recruitment.
Matt Coleman was a computer genius. Trey Williams was a language expert. Jimmy Gordon was a sharpshooter with the ability to blend in anywhere. Jack Gordon had choirboy looks and charm, but lethal hands that could snap a man’s neck with the flick of a wrist. Bull had his sheer size, on top of being an explosives expert.
But BB was the superior swimmer and deep-sea diver on the team. He sincerely hoped he wasn’t already signed up for any damn triathlon, although he wouldn’t mind going to Hawaii.
He wondered what the woman had to do with all of this. She had sat there in complete silence while he read.
Taking a minute, he glanced at her now. She was cute. No, he couldn’t exactly say that.
Cute was a good word to describe cheerleaders and prom queens. This woman was beautiful, with cool, sophisticated, self-assured, polished good looks.
Her brown hair was pulled back in a severe bun in the back. The fluorescent lights added red highlights to the top of her head. He’d like to see that hair down. He bet she’d look smoking hot then.
She was probably a few years older than him, but that didn’t stop him from glancing at the rest of her. Short skirt, high heels, and tight little tank top exposing some nice cleavage beneath the jacket. Warm brown eyes, with obvious intelligence behind them.
Nothing wrong with a woman who could make a business suit look that sexy.
Then he remembered the commander. He glanced up.
“Sir, I still don’t understand.”
“Dalton. You’ve read the da…article?”
“Yes, sir.” BB could tell the commander was editing his usually more than colorful language because of the female guest in the office.
“Well, I am so very happy to be the one to inform you that you have been selected as the special ops recruiting poster boy.” The sarcasm practically dripped from each word the commander spoke.
He opened his eyes wide. “Poster boy, sir?”
The commander laughed. He was so obviously not happy with Central Command. “Yeah.
I’ll let Ms. Katherine Jorgenson here have the honor of explaining it.
By the way, she’s your ‘handler’.” The commander actually used air-quotes.
Handler . BB’d had handlers before, people dedicated to making sure that the ‘talent’ was happy, glorified babysitters, really. That had been in another life, another time.
He’d left that life far behind. He turned to her now, wondering if there was any way to get out of this.
Ms. Jorgenson extended her hand to him in a very business-like manner. She raised a brow.
“May I call you William?”
Not even his mother called him William. “At home they call me Billy Bob, but the guys here call me BB, ma’am.”
She seemed to wince, but then nodded. “BB, then. Please, feel free to call me Katie rather than ma’am, since we’ll be spending a lot of time together.”
Spending a lot of time together . Really? Well, that wouldn’t be a hardship. Maybe this gig had an upside, after all.
Katie continued. “When hired, I did extensive research from the military personnel database…”
BB interrupted her. “Um, excuse me.” Then he swung to look at the commander. “I thought the special ops personnel database was confidential?”
The commander snorted, but let Miss Jorgenson—Katie—continue.
“Don’t worry. I’ve been checked front, back and sideways by the FBI and Homeland Security. I’ve done marketing campaigns for the sitting president as well as other high profile government personalities I’m not at liberty to name. I’ve been retained by Uncle Sam to develop a recruiting campaign focusing on the glamour of the special ops units.”
Now it was BB’s turn to snort. Glamour. Yeah, right.
Maybe he’d take her on his next twenty-mile run and see how glamorous she thought it was with a ninety-pound pack strapped to her back.
His not-so-high opinion of her idea didn’t escape her.
“It’s a whole new world out there, BB. The military needs to change with
Matt Coleman was a computer genius. Trey Williams was a language expert. Jimmy Gordon was a sharpshooter with the ability to blend in anywhere. Jack Gordon had choirboy looks and charm, but lethal hands that could snap a man’s neck with the flick of a wrist. Bull had his sheer size, on top of being an explosives expert.
But BB was the superior swimmer and deep-sea diver on the team. He sincerely hoped he wasn’t already signed up for any damn triathlon, although he wouldn’t mind going to Hawaii.
He wondered what the woman had to do with all of this. She had sat there in complete silence while he read.
Taking a minute, he glanced at her now. She was cute. No, he couldn’t exactly say that.
Cute was a good word to describe cheerleaders and prom queens. This woman was beautiful, with cool, sophisticated, self-assured, polished good looks.
Her brown hair was pulled back in a severe bun in the back. The fluorescent lights added red highlights to the top of her head. He’d like to see that hair down. He bet she’d look smoking hot then.
She was probably a few years older than him, but that didn’t stop him from glancing at the rest of her. Short skirt, high heels, and tight little tank top exposing some nice cleavage beneath the jacket. Warm brown eyes, with obvious intelligence behind them.
Nothing wrong with a woman who could make a business suit look that sexy.
Then he remembered the commander. He glanced up.
“Sir, I still don’t understand.”
“Dalton. You’ve read the da…article?”
“Yes, sir.” BB could tell the commander was editing his usually more than colorful language because of the female guest in the office.
“Well, I am so very happy to be the one to inform you that you have been selected as the special ops recruiting poster boy.” The sarcasm practically dripped from each word the commander spoke.
He opened his eyes wide. “Poster boy, sir?”
The commander laughed. He was so obviously not happy with Central Command. “Yeah.
I’ll let Ms. Katherine Jorgenson here have the honor of explaining it.
By the way, she’s your ‘handler’.” The commander actually used air-quotes.
Handler . BB’d had handlers before, people dedicated to making sure that the ‘talent’ was happy, glorified babysitters, really. That had been in another life, another time.
He’d left that life far behind. He turned to her now, wondering if there was any way to get out of this.
Ms. Jorgenson extended her hand to him in a very business-like manner. She raised a brow.
“May I call you William?”
Not even his mother called him William. “At home they call me Billy Bob, but the guys here call me BB, ma’am.”
She seemed to wince, but then nodded. “BB, then. Please, feel free to call me Katie rather than ma’am, since we’ll be spending a lot of time together.”
Spending a lot of time together . Really? Well, that wouldn’t be a hardship. Maybe this gig had an upside, after all.
Katie continued. “When hired, I did extensive research from the military personnel database…”
BB interrupted her. “Um, excuse me.” Then he swung to look at the commander. “I thought the special ops personnel database was confidential?”
The commander snorted, but let Miss Jorgenson—Katie—continue.
“Don’t worry. I’ve been checked front, back and sideways by the FBI and Homeland Security. I’ve done marketing campaigns for the sitting president as well as other high profile government personalities I’m not at liberty to name. I’ve been retained by Uncle Sam to develop a recruiting campaign focusing on the glamour of the special ops units.”
Now it was BB’s turn to snort. Glamour. Yeah, right.
Maybe he’d take her on his next twenty-mile run and see how glamorous she thought it was with a ninety-pound pack strapped to her back.
His not-so-high opinion of her idea didn’t escape her.
“It’s a whole new world out there, BB. The military needs to change with
Similar Books
