doubles were visible on the polished white marble below, and the kaleidoscope of portraits made him feel as if he were the target of countless accusing avian and human gazes.
After answering a call, the well-endowed receptionist rose and escorted him along a wide hallway. Though in the Middle East, she showed off her tanned legs in a pencil skirt that reached no more than a few inches past her bountiful hips. He passed a bank of cubicles and several heavy wooden doors before reaching the end.
Stepping around the brunette, he entered a spacious office. Floor-to-ceiling windows formed the exterior corner, showing off a stunning view of a sandy coastline and the Arabian Sea. Mahogany panels lined the interior walls. A massive Persian carpet framed a seating area containing a sleek leather sofa, two arm chairs, and a glass coffee table. On the opposite end sat an oversized teak desk sandwiched between two rolling ergonomic mesh chairs. The combination of modern and traditional should clash, but they combined to make a stunning backdrop for the woman who’d always taken his breath away.
Brennan continued to stare at the horizon as he entered. Unable to peel his gaze from her profile, he tried to tease apart the bag of mixed feelings that sucker-punched him when he saw her. She wasn’t the girl he remembered.
Instead of a messy ponytail, she’d tamed her sleek blonde locks into an intricate bun. Gold tinted her once porcelain complexion. He knew she abhorred makeup, but her emerald eyes were accentuated by layered colors and framed with gray liner. Mascara turned her already thick lashes into dark fans. Coral gloss coated her full lips, matching the swath of color brushed over her high cheekbones
Tall black pumps with bright red soles encased her small feet. A sleeveless red dress molded over her body and ended several inches above her knees. Toned muscle and a slight tan gave her slender arms and legs a healthy appearance. Black pearls circled her neck and drew attention to her pert breasts.
“Major Reed, I presume. My name is Dan Khan.”
Karl had been so distracted he only now noticed the suited man seated behind the desk. A flash of temper flared as he matched the masculine decor with the room’s other occupant. His wife never acted without reason. Not inviting him to her office had been a conscious snub.
Being in Delta had trained him to make snap assessments from a single glance. Though of predominantly Anglo-Indian descent, the man’s features contained a smorgasbord of other ethnicities. While he sported a dandified suit jacket and expensive shoes, his alert gaze and agile build suggested a military or paramilitary background. His neutral accent had a touch of British, with hints of American.
Striding forward, he shook hands with the room’s owner. His own skin was darker by half a shade, and they were about the same height. Their palms were rough and covered in near identical calluses. Whoever this man was, he knew how to hold a weapon and fired it often.
Karl turned to his wife. “I need to speak with you in private.”
She continued to peer through the glass.
He stepped toward her. “Now.”
Her cheeks dimpled. “I forgot how bossy you are.”
“Bree, two minutes alone—”
“No.” She swiveled around, an over-bright smile on her face. “Hello to you too, Karl. What have you been up to these past two years? How was your flight?”
He drew in a frustrated breath. “Do you really care?”
“Nope, but I learned how to make polite conversation since we last met.”
A chortling cough came from Dan’s direction. Karl ignored it. “Your life’s in—“
“You look like crap,” she observed, her neutral tone belied by the wrinkles on her forehead and the furrow between her brows. “Did you come straight from the airport?”
“I’m fine.” He reached for her shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. A rush of comfort followed the contact, unknotting his muscles and allowing him to breathe
After answering a call, the well-endowed receptionist rose and escorted him along a wide hallway. Though in the Middle East, she showed off her tanned legs in a pencil skirt that reached no more than a few inches past her bountiful hips. He passed a bank of cubicles and several heavy wooden doors before reaching the end.
Stepping around the brunette, he entered a spacious office. Floor-to-ceiling windows formed the exterior corner, showing off a stunning view of a sandy coastline and the Arabian Sea. Mahogany panels lined the interior walls. A massive Persian carpet framed a seating area containing a sleek leather sofa, two arm chairs, and a glass coffee table. On the opposite end sat an oversized teak desk sandwiched between two rolling ergonomic mesh chairs. The combination of modern and traditional should clash, but they combined to make a stunning backdrop for the woman who’d always taken his breath away.
Brennan continued to stare at the horizon as he entered. Unable to peel his gaze from her profile, he tried to tease apart the bag of mixed feelings that sucker-punched him when he saw her. She wasn’t the girl he remembered.
Instead of a messy ponytail, she’d tamed her sleek blonde locks into an intricate bun. Gold tinted her once porcelain complexion. He knew she abhorred makeup, but her emerald eyes were accentuated by layered colors and framed with gray liner. Mascara turned her already thick lashes into dark fans. Coral gloss coated her full lips, matching the swath of color brushed over her high cheekbones
Tall black pumps with bright red soles encased her small feet. A sleeveless red dress molded over her body and ended several inches above her knees. Toned muscle and a slight tan gave her slender arms and legs a healthy appearance. Black pearls circled her neck and drew attention to her pert breasts.
“Major Reed, I presume. My name is Dan Khan.”
Karl had been so distracted he only now noticed the suited man seated behind the desk. A flash of temper flared as he matched the masculine decor with the room’s other occupant. His wife never acted without reason. Not inviting him to her office had been a conscious snub.
Being in Delta had trained him to make snap assessments from a single glance. Though of predominantly Anglo-Indian descent, the man’s features contained a smorgasbord of other ethnicities. While he sported a dandified suit jacket and expensive shoes, his alert gaze and agile build suggested a military or paramilitary background. His neutral accent had a touch of British, with hints of American.
Striding forward, he shook hands with the room’s owner. His own skin was darker by half a shade, and they were about the same height. Their palms were rough and covered in near identical calluses. Whoever this man was, he knew how to hold a weapon and fired it often.
Karl turned to his wife. “I need to speak with you in private.”
She continued to peer through the glass.
He stepped toward her. “Now.”
Her cheeks dimpled. “I forgot how bossy you are.”
“Bree, two minutes alone—”
“No.” She swiveled around, an over-bright smile on her face. “Hello to you too, Karl. What have you been up to these past two years? How was your flight?”
He drew in a frustrated breath. “Do you really care?”
“Nope, but I learned how to make polite conversation since we last met.”
A chortling cough came from Dan’s direction. Karl ignored it. “Your life’s in—“
“You look like crap,” she observed, her neutral tone belied by the wrinkles on her forehead and the furrow between her brows. “Did you come straight from the airport?”
“I’m fine.” He reached for her shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. A rush of comfort followed the contact, unknotting his muscles and allowing him to breathe
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