pleasure that sent him sailing into the stratosphere. Sex with Lace had been the glue in their relationship.
But now he needed more to get her back into his life. He needed to give her a safe haven where she could raise her daughter without either of them harboring the fear of someone tossing a firebomb into their car or shooting at them on the street.
Until Ace got back to him with more intel, he would try to glean as much information as possible around her compound. Good thing he was fluent in French.
She pointed to the wooden crates and neatly stacked boxes by a table topped with glass jars filled with jam. “Help me get these ready for packing. Each wood box can hold four containers of jam. Seal them with the staple gun.”
As she picked up the gun, he gently took it from her. “I know how to handle one of these. I’m the weapons expert, remember?”
“Yeah, Mr. Weapons Expert. I remember how you spent a whole weekend trying to fix the gate and the first time you used the nail gun you ended up in the ER with a nail sticking out of your hand.”
He laughed. “It almost ended up in my ass. That would have been special.”
A ripple of sensual appreciation passed over her face as she glanced at his bottom. “A real shame to hurt that part of your body,” she murmured.
Pleased he still had that effect on her, he loaded up the staple gun.
They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes. Lacey wiped the sweat off her brow.
“Most of the jam goes across the country to restaurants, but I’m shipping a box to Mom as she and Dad love the stuff.” She pointed to the box he worked on. “Set that one aside. I’m going to ship it via air freight.”
Her face fell and her lower lip wobbled a little. “I was planning to hand-carry them when I took Fleur with me back home as a welcome home gift. Now I don’t know when I’ll get her home.”
He knew she was fighting emotions. Knew how she tried to hide it, because she’d always tried to be brave in the past, but that little wobble in her pretty mouth gave it away.
Jarrett set down the staple gun, making sure to switch it off. He put his hands on her shoulders, feeling delicate bone beneath the soft skin. Lace wasn’t frail, but she had a soft heart and it had to kill her to be put into this position.
“Hey,” he said gently. “Everything’s going to be all right, Lace. Have faith.”
Have faith in me. I won’t let you down. Have faith in the job I do. It comes first. But I’ll always be there for you .
In the end he wasn’t there when she truly needed him. Jarrett gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze, fighting the urge to kiss her senseless as he had in the past. Kiss her and lead her into the bedroom where he’d made all her woes fall away.
When the last staple secured the last box of jam, they stacked them inside the shed, making certain to set apart the four jars destined for sending to Lacey’s father. Tomorrow a truck would collect the crates to distribute to restaurants.
After they stacked the boxes, she wiped off the sweat from her glistening forehead with the back of one hand. “Thanks. You really helped. Now I have one less chore.”
He brushed off his jeans. Lacey gave him a friendly smile as she pointed to her soaked shirt.
“How do you do it, Jarrett? You never break a sweat. Not even that day when you nailed your hand. Do you even have sweat glands?”
Oh yeah, he had plenty of times on ops. Down range, he sweated quite a bit, waiting in hiding for the moment to move in and take down the enemy. Sweating profusely while sitting in a plane at 30,000, waiting to do a HALO jump.
Sweating as he waited in a courtroom for the judge to declare the divorce final...
But he’d never let on, because he was tough. A man’s man who never showed his emotions. Emotions killed you in the field; they slipped beneath your collar and taunted you, distracting you from the mission, the target...
Had to steer this disturbing thread of
But now he needed more to get her back into his life. He needed to give her a safe haven where she could raise her daughter without either of them harboring the fear of someone tossing a firebomb into their car or shooting at them on the street.
Until Ace got back to him with more intel, he would try to glean as much information as possible around her compound. Good thing he was fluent in French.
She pointed to the wooden crates and neatly stacked boxes by a table topped with glass jars filled with jam. “Help me get these ready for packing. Each wood box can hold four containers of jam. Seal them with the staple gun.”
As she picked up the gun, he gently took it from her. “I know how to handle one of these. I’m the weapons expert, remember?”
“Yeah, Mr. Weapons Expert. I remember how you spent a whole weekend trying to fix the gate and the first time you used the nail gun you ended up in the ER with a nail sticking out of your hand.”
He laughed. “It almost ended up in my ass. That would have been special.”
A ripple of sensual appreciation passed over her face as she glanced at his bottom. “A real shame to hurt that part of your body,” she murmured.
Pleased he still had that effect on her, he loaded up the staple gun.
They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes. Lacey wiped the sweat off her brow.
“Most of the jam goes across the country to restaurants, but I’m shipping a box to Mom as she and Dad love the stuff.” She pointed to the box he worked on. “Set that one aside. I’m going to ship it via air freight.”
Her face fell and her lower lip wobbled a little. “I was planning to hand-carry them when I took Fleur with me back home as a welcome home gift. Now I don’t know when I’ll get her home.”
He knew she was fighting emotions. Knew how she tried to hide it, because she’d always tried to be brave in the past, but that little wobble in her pretty mouth gave it away.
Jarrett set down the staple gun, making sure to switch it off. He put his hands on her shoulders, feeling delicate bone beneath the soft skin. Lace wasn’t frail, but she had a soft heart and it had to kill her to be put into this position.
“Hey,” he said gently. “Everything’s going to be all right, Lace. Have faith.”
Have faith in me. I won’t let you down. Have faith in the job I do. It comes first. But I’ll always be there for you .
In the end he wasn’t there when she truly needed him. Jarrett gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze, fighting the urge to kiss her senseless as he had in the past. Kiss her and lead her into the bedroom where he’d made all her woes fall away.
When the last staple secured the last box of jam, they stacked them inside the shed, making certain to set apart the four jars destined for sending to Lacey’s father. Tomorrow a truck would collect the crates to distribute to restaurants.
After they stacked the boxes, she wiped off the sweat from her glistening forehead with the back of one hand. “Thanks. You really helped. Now I have one less chore.”
He brushed off his jeans. Lacey gave him a friendly smile as she pointed to her soaked shirt.
“How do you do it, Jarrett? You never break a sweat. Not even that day when you nailed your hand. Do you even have sweat glands?”
Oh yeah, he had plenty of times on ops. Down range, he sweated quite a bit, waiting in hiding for the moment to move in and take down the enemy. Sweating profusely while sitting in a plane at 30,000, waiting to do a HALO jump.
Sweating as he waited in a courtroom for the judge to declare the divorce final...
But he’d never let on, because he was tough. A man’s man who never showed his emotions. Emotions killed you in the field; they slipped beneath your collar and taunted you, distracting you from the mission, the target...
Had to steer this disturbing thread of
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