“And you’re not a newcomer to it?” she asked in surprise.
“My family has owned an art gallery in New Orleans for over a hundred years.”
“Did you work in the business to have learned so much about the art world?”
He winced. “Not entirely. I-” He paused, embarrassed. “-majored in art history in college.”
She stared. “How in the world did you end up-” Aware of other ears nearby, she finished circumspectly, “-in our line of work?”
“Easy. Art history majors don’t get the hot chicks.”
She laughed, startled. “You got into the biz to pick up women? And how’s that working out for you?”
His gaze took on a heat that stole her breath away. “So far so good, if I had to make an initial assessment.”
“Oh, really?” she asked lightly, butterflies flitting in her stomach. “What makes you think that?”
He tipped the wineglass in his hand slightly in her direction. “The lady’s wearing a sexy dress for me. I’d say that’s an excellent start.”
She shrugged. “It’s just what happened to be in my gear bag.”
“You haul around sexy little numbers like that in your work gear?” he blurted.
She nodded casually, studying the remnants of her meal. No sense telling him she had several other dresses to choose from and this one had been the sexiest of the bunch. His ego was already big enough. She glanced up to find him staring at her in open consternation.
“What?” she demanded.
“What exactly do you ladies do in your line of work?”
“The same thing you do. Why?”
“Is that all you do?”
She laid her fork down very gently. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”
“Neither do I,” he replied grimly.
She leaned forward and spoke with quietly intensity. “I’ll say this once and once only. The Medusas have never been asked to nor have they done anything remotely like what you’re thinking in the execution of their job. Understood?”
“Loud and clear, darlin’. And may I say, I’m relieved to hear it. I’d hate to have to ask you to choose between me and your work.”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, once we’re officially together, I’m not going to be a fan of sharing you with anyone else, particularly some hostile target you’ve been ordered to romance.”
“Jeff. We are not together. Not that I’d personally be comfortable romancing a hostile anyway, but that would be my decision to make-not yours. My job. My career. My decision.”
He looked pained. “I never thought I’d end up with a career woman, especially a military one. I wasn’t planning on facing these sorts of issues.”
“Gee. I’m sorry to have fouled up your grand plan for a nineteenth-century marriage-or did you have something more fourteenth century in mind?”
He grinned. “I have to say, now that I’ve found you, I’m surprisingly okay with you having a career. Even the one you have.”
She rolled her eyes. “Thanks so much for giving me permission to do my job.”
His grin widened unrepentantly.
Now that he’d found her? He said that like he’d been looking for her. Those pesky butterflies were knocking around her stomach again. “For what it’s worth, most of the men who’ve gotten involved with my teammates seem to have struggled initially to accept the danger we place ourselves in.”
He frowned. “What sorts of ops do you run?”
Thankfully, the wind had picked up, pushing the waves more noisily onto the beach. With one eye trained on the nearest tents, she replied, “Exactly the same kind you do. Only exception: The missions are profiled to include less heavy lifting and fewer long-distance ingresses and egresses. We’re the first to admit that we can’t begin to match the strength and stamina of a male team. Our job is to work around that limitation.”
He blinked, looking startled at the admission.
“For example, my sniper rig is modified to weigh less than a standard model. I sacrifice some range on my shots, but it’s a trade-off. Pass out of exhaustion trying to hump in the weapon to a target, or work my way in for a closer shot and actually make the kill.”
“So you’re a short-range specialist, then?”
She nodded. “I don’t do half bad with a long-range rig. But if I’m hauling my own gear to the kill zone, I usually go short. If I were as big and strong as some of my teammates, I might consider doing more long-range work, though.”
“It’s daunting to consider women stronger than you. I felt you take me down this afternoon. You’re no wimp, honey.”
“Nah, I’m the little, quick one on the team. Python and Sidewinder are a lot stronger than I am.”
“How many of you are there?”
“Six, plus one prospect in training.”
“Any plans to expand the team?”
“You’d have to take that up with General Wittenauer or the president. We’d like to expand the program, though. We’ve been talking about how to recruit and train more women and the sorts of skills sets we’d look for.”
“Like what?”
She smiled. “Well, a big, strong sniper for one. More linguists with a broader range of languages. And-” she broke off. Jeff probably wasn’t ready to hear the next idea they’d been tossing around.
“And what?” he prompted.
“Nothing.”
His gaze narrowed. “And a few high-priced call girls with a penchant for guns, perchance?”
She jolted. How had he picked that thought out of her brain? She schooled her face to perfect stillness. “An interesting idea. What do you think of it?”
He frowned. “My knee-jerk reaction is to hate the idea of asking women, regardless of previous experience, to use their bodies to do my job.”
“And your reaction after you give it some thought?”
He shrugged. “I can see the usefulness of a…skill set…like that. It could certainly open some avenues of intelligence collection that the Special Forces have not traditionally had access to.”
“But it would be controversial.”
He snorted. “As if the idea of women running around in the Special Forces killing people and blowing stuff up isn’t?”
“Well, there is that.”
They traded smiles.
He murmured, “I gotta confess, I’m having a little trouble wrapping my brain around the whole idea of women operatives. Had I not seen you do what you did today, I’d be highly skeptical.”
“And now you’re only moderately skeptical?”
“My shoulder still aches from where you twisted it, my thumb is sore from when you dropped me the second time, and my ego’s definitely bruised. When pain’s involved, I’m a quick learner.”
Hidoshi used to say she would never become a great warrior because she spent all her time trying to avoid getting hit and not attacking. But she’d learned. She could take pain with the best of them now.
She commented. “Lots of male operators get cranky when they first find out about us. They forget we’re all playing for the same team. That we uphold and defend the same Constitution and fight for the same values.” She looked him squarely in the eye. “You’re not going to make that mistake, are you?”
He sighed. “Honestly, I had about as Neanderthal a reaction to the idea of female operators as the next guy.” He looked up at her and grinned. “But then you planted me on my butt. Twice. I guess I’d have to say I’m convinced.”
“I didn’t really hurt you, did I? I was trying not to.”
He grinned ruefully. “I’d hate to see you go at it when you really mean someone harm. Nah, I’m not hurt. Nothing that won’t recover. Except maybe my ego. Sometime I want to go one-on-one with you on a mat…when I’m prepared for you to jump me.”
She grinned impishly. “It won’t help. I’ll still win.”
He laughed. “Oh, really? Care to place a small wager on that?”
Finally. A natural response to her that he might give to one of his male counterparts. She smiled. “Anytime, any place, big guy. Name your bet.”