“You’ll do,” she said with a mischievous half-smile. “I just have one question though.”
“Ma’am?” he said, teasing her while trying to stave off the electric current that her flagrant assessment produced.
“You married?”
He gave her a quick wink. “No.”
CHAPTER 6
NO MATTER HOW one prepared oneself, there was simply no getting used to going through all the security checks and documentation required in the private charter area with the amounts of equipment and firearms they had to carry. An interminable flight was ahead of them with refueling stops in London, then Cairo, and then eventually they’d get to Baghdad some seventeen-plus hours later. From there, they’d practically be living on a plane and moving around the Middle East.
The small talk with staff was wearing her nerves thin— right now she didn’t want to talk to the band members or backup singers, didn’t want to chitchat with the stylists, or dish the dirt with her personal assistant, Megan. In all, she had a full crew of audio techs, lighting techs, dancers, set designers, photogs, plus a band that, when adding everyone together and not including security, amounted to a forty-person entourage . . . and all she could think about was Zachary Mitchell.
Her mind wouldn’t turn off; there were so many things about him that she wanted to know. She’d just learned that he was Delta Force, which completely explained how he handled himself in the parking lot. It also explained the way he used the words “sir” and “ma’am” as though the words themselves were sentence punctuation. From his outburst she’d learned that he was also from the ‘hood and wasn’t born with a silver spoon in his mouth, which she now understood was that indefinable thing that gave him a little swagger that was oh so sexy.
After last night, she knew she needed to know more, experience more; she wanted the whole package and was looking forward to unwrapping it a little bit at a time. There were things to learn like what was his family like, what did he believe in . . . he wasn’t married, but were there kids or someone special?
Right now she felt like being lost in her own thoughts, lost in the conversation they’d begun last night before everything went wrong, lost in his arms that had brought her a little comfort and a little piece of home . . . but Zachary Mitchell was seated with the other security guys— so she sat alone.
The huge, comfortable leather seat threatened to swallow her up as she kicked off her shoes and allowed the deep pile carpet
to massage her feet. Megan brought her a chilled glass of champagne and a legal pad.
“You look like you’re in an artistic frame of mind,” Megan said with a wink, her corkscrew rust-colored locks bouncing as she spoke.
“You know me,” Anita said with a smile, accepting both offered items with deep appreciation.
“There’s some fruit, good stuff for lunch and dinner . . . shrimp, the works. They stowed everything you like— just signal when you want some company or something to eat.”
“Thanks, lady,” Anita said, allowing her gaze to inadvertently drift toward Zachary Mitchell.
Megan glanced at him from the corner of her eye and then leaned in. “Who the heck is he?”
Anita smiled and shrugged. “He came with the security contract.”
Megan slid into the seat next to Anita and leaned in to whisper. Her melodious island accent was filled with mischief. “Are you serious? The stylists have been buzzing ever since he did the walk-through, and if you’ve laid claim on him, you’re gonna have to stab every woman in your backup section— maybe even a few of the guys.”
“Tell ‘em I’ll cut ‘em,” Anita said, laughing.
“And I so don’t blame you,” Megan said, her gaze now riveted to Zachary. “Want me to tell him to come over?”
“No, no,” Anita said quickly. “I don’t want him to think . . . uhm . . .”
“Listen to you,” Megan said giggling quietly. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you sound like this over some man, not even Jonathan.”
The mention of Jonathan stole Anita’s smile.
“I didn’t mean to go there,” Megan whispered, her smile quickly vanishing. “Aw, lady— sore spot, I’m so sorry . . . I was just glad to see that somebody sparked your interest.”
“I’m just being silly,” Anita said. “Lemme work it out on paper.”
Megan nodded, kissed her forehead, and stood. “Call me if you want anything, all right?”
“I’ve got bottled water, grapes, bubbly, paper . . . a pen, what else will I need for the next seventeen hours?”
Megan smiled. “You so don’t want me to answer that.”
Anita shooed Megan away with a wave of her hand, laughing quietly to herself. It would have been nice to have Zachary Mitchell sitting beside her, talking about anything, everything, just sharing the long ride . . . sharing his life. But that would cause a whole big to-do on the plane, rampant speculation, and a bunch of crap that she didn’t have the stomach for right now.