Navy Seal Bodyguard. Tawny Weber
Holy bananas.
So many thoughts bounced through Mia’s brain. Images of all the children who’d be helped by a new hospital. The thought of the benefits of health care for thousands. And, hoo baby, multiple events, wow, the benefits to her business. If Mia had a contract like that, after Lorraine Perkins was done doing backflips, she’d hand over the Winter Ball on a golden platter. Carte blanche. No nagging, no micromanaging, no peering over Mia’s shoulder, no deep sighs over preferring to keep the job in-house.
“What does he need? I should meet with him. Do I call him directly, or is that something I set up with you?” Mia flipped to a fresh page in her notebook. “Do you know if he has preferences already in place? Is he open to suggestions? Will you handle carrying through the arrangements once the plans are made, or will that be my responsibility? Knowing that ahead of time will help with my bid.”
“Bid?” Jessica waved that away with a flick of her baby-doll-pink fingernails. “You don’t have to bid, Mia. The job is already yours.”
“Mine? Just like that?”
“Oh, but he’s not looking at any other event planners. The job’s yours if you want it. I mean, you’ll have to create an outline of your plans for Alcosta’s approval, of course, and adhere to his wishes and rules. And there is a wee little time crunch involved. But after the way I’ve talked you up, I’m sure you’ll get the contract.”
Oh. My.
Mia bit back the urge to get up and dance.
Twenty million. A children’s hospital. A half dozen events. All hers.
While Jessica organized her files.
Mia’s urge to dance froze.
Before she could voice her concerns, Jessica made a show of grimacing.
“Um, look. It’s no big deal,” Jessica said, her tone making it clear that it was actually a huge deal. “But I sort of put myself on the line here. You know, promised all sorts of great things about your work. That you’d take the job. That you’d do fabulous. That you were the best in the business. Stuff like that. So I’m counting on you. I’d hate for Alcosta to start thinking he can’t trust my judgment.”
Mia blinked, the weight of Jessica’s words coating her doubts with a hefty layer of guilt.
“I’ll get a hold of Alcosta and let him know how excited you are.” Jessica grabbed her cell phone and started typing. “You get a proposal together. I’ll set up the meeting. Just leave me a list of what you need done.”
And with that, Mia was alone in the kitchen with her gorgeous view and the opportunity of a lifetime. Then she glanced down with a sigh at a nagging text from her mother.
By the time Mia had finished reading message eight of nine, she was sure of two things.
One, she was definitely going after the Alcosta job.
And two, no matter how old she was, her parents were going to drive her crazy.
* * *
His mother was driving him crazy.
A woman he’d dated a grand total of three time was stalking him.
His career was over.
A year ago, Spencer Lloyd had been on top of the world. Cryptographer, lieutenant and Navy SEAL, he’d known no other way to live but to the fullest.
One bomb explosion later, his vision was impaired just enough to put him out of the SEALs, his career was over and he was living life on the edge.
The edge of sanity, that was.
Getting out of hot spots used to be Spence Lloyd’s forte.
The hotter, the better.
He’d once spent three weeks as a well-tortured guest of terrorists before engineering an escape for himself and six others, leading the way on a leg broken in four places.
He’d parachuted through heavy gunfire to take out enemy munitions before they destroyed a small city.
He’d helped rescue a kidnapped politician from a high-level prison, taking out multiple targets in the process.
Lieutenant Spencer Lloyd, former Navy SEAL and all-round fearless guy, had faced it all with confidence and equanimity.
But now, sitting in his superior officer’s office on the Coronado Naval Base for what was quite likely the last time, Spence wondered what he’d got himself into.
“Could you repeat that order, sir?”
A scowl between his bushy brows, Admiral Theodore Cade said, “Lieutenant, I need your help with my daughter.”
Yeah. That’s what Spence thought he’d said.
“Sir, you’re aware that I’m in the middle of out-processing.”
Leaving the military. Ending life as he knew—and loved—it. The Navy might accept an officer with compromised vision, but the SEALs could not. Better to leave with his dignity and his trident intact, he’d decided, than to be demoted off the team.
“The fact that you’re transitioning into civilian life is the reason you’ve been chosen for this mission, Lloyd.”
This must be a personal issue rather than a military issue, Spence realized.
“I’m breaking protocol by informing you of the benefits before I give you the details of this mission.”
“Sir, I have no expectation of benefits or recompense for a favor.”
“Which is why I’m making the offer. That, and because your talents, skills and expertise make you the right man for the job.”
His abilities as a SEAL? As a cryptographer? Spence banished the questions from his head. He’d know soon enough, so forming any ideas beforehand would be a waste of time and energy.
“It’s come to my attention that the position you’re taking upon your release from the Navy is not as opportune as it seemed.”
That was one way to put it. A huge disappointment would be another. There weren’t a bevy of challenging jobs here in the San Diego area that called for the skills of a former SEAL. And obviously Cade knew that already.
“In light of that, and in return for the personal favor I’ll detail, I’m offering you an opportunity, a shot at a future where you utilize the talents and training the finest military experience in the world taught you. An opportunity to employ those skills in civilian life.”
Was he going to sprinkle it with fairy dust and throw in a unicorn that did dishes, too?
“How?” Spence managed.
“A former SEAL of my acquaintance has started a premier security firm. This firm consists exclusively of former Special Ops personnel and handles the types of cases that require military expertise but the government finds itself unable to be involved with.”
Spence had a sudden vision of that dishwashing unicorn doing his laundry, too.
“It sounds like an excellent opportunity,” he said. “It also sounds, as you said yourself, exclusive. To offer that level of service, Special Ops won’t be enough. It’ll require a handpicked team.”
A handpicked team he’d do anything but kill to be a part of. Spence had experienced the sensations often enough before ops and missions to recognize the tingle down his spine, the tightness in his gut. Excitement. Anticipation. And a bone-deep surety that this was something he’d kick ass at.
“I am serving as a liaison between the military, the government and the head of the newly established Aegis Security. As such, my recommendation will carry weight.”
In other words, Cade was his golden ticket to the civilian career of his dreams.
“What do you need me to do?”
Spence