“No cuddling for me, either.” I push the image away. The longing lingers, but I don’t bother to examine what it means.
“I didn’t think you were,” Isabelle says.
“There are plenty of cushions. We can build a barricade in case you have the urge to cuddle me while we’re sleeping.”I wink at her, and she laughs.
“You really don’t have to worry about that, but if it makes you feel safer, I have no issues creating The Great Wall of Cushions.” Chuckling, she walks to the sliding patio window. “I can’t believe how amazing the view is.”
She swivels back to me as I open the envelope Rachel gave us. “We’re not actually attending the group session this afternoon, are we?”
“That’sexactlywhat we’re going to do. It’s part of our cover. You heard what Virginia and Rachel said. Those sessions are part of the reason married couples stay here. If we don’t go, it might draw unwanted attention to us because they’ll wonder why we aren’t there.” I remove the message from the envelope and read it.
“And if we decide to pass on Bernard’s request for help, then we no longer have to worry about our cover—beyond claiming we’re married?”
“I guess.” But the chance of Isabelle passing on the opportunity to prove herself to Liam is as likely to happen as me sprouting Pegasus wings in the next thirty seconds.
All I can hope for is that Liam comes to his senses and orders us home.
“It just sounds so boring,” she says. “Let me guess, we’ll be wasting time playing bingo, or some other lame game.”
“It could be worse.”
A wry smile curves on her luscious lips. “You mean like being shot at?”
“Exactly. The worst that will happen is we’ll be bored and waste an hour or so there. But despite what the phrase claims, no one has ever actually died of boredom.”
She releases an if-you-say-so sigh. “All right. We do the group session, then hope Bernard hurries up and makes contact with us.”
“You won’t be a very good operative if you’re going to be so impatient.”
For some bizarre reason, she brightens. “That’s the first step, admitting that I’m an operative. Now I just have to prove to you that I’m as good an operative as you…or maybe even better.”
“Dream on, sweetheart. You’ll never be a better operative than me.”
Isabelle practically dances over to me and kisses me on the cheek. “We’ll see. I bet by the end of the trip, you’ll be singing a different tune.”
Somehow, I doubt that.
10
Isabelle
I stepout of the bathroom, dressed in my favorite swimsuit: a zebra-print string bikini with pushup bra. But instead of black and white, the pattern is black and light pink.
It’s designed to be sexy.
It’s not designed to participate in some boring group activity that probably involves bingo or lawn bowling. But like Jayden said, boring or not, I don’t have a choice about participating if we plan to maintain our cover of being a married couple.
Jayden is on the balcony, dressed in his swim trunks. His light-brown skin glows warmly in the midafternoon sun. There’s no missing his sinewed muscles, the result of his on-the-job physical training.
Nor can you miss the various scars on his body. Mementos from his time with the SEALs and his missions with Liam’s team.
A sudden urge to kiss each one shoots through me. To pay homage to the risks he’s taken to secure the rights and freedoms for the countries he fought for, for the people he was protecting.
I grab my cover-up from the bed and slip it on. “You ready to get this over with?”
Jayden steps back inside and flashes me a cocky smile. “Don’t sound too excited. You wouldn’t want to give anyone the impression you can’t wait to participate.”
I dignify his comment by sticking my tongue out at him.
