Chapter 4 #5
Nick took a deep breath and sat back in his seat, the picture of someone who’d eaten well and was stretching a little.
He looked out to sea as if enjoying the view—which was spectacular—and thought of a village in Afghanistan after the Taliban had gone through.
Nothing was left alive, not even the dogs and the chickens and goats.
The ground had been soaked with blood. Then he thought of Ahmed.
Everyone had been fond of him, he’d been so bright and friendly.
He thought of his last glimpse of Ahmed, just before some fuckhead in another building blew him up. That small face looking so sad…
He had a lot of getting-rid-of-wood memories but those two were top of the line and they worked.
He’d got himself under control.
He poured another half-glass for Parker.
She wasn’t driving so she could indulge.
“Speaking of your books, I never told you how much I enjoyed The Smiling People. As soon as I saw the documentary, I ordered the book on my tablet and read it in a couple of days. It was amazing. You write beautifully. I honestly don’t know which I enjoyed more, the documentary or the book. ”
Parker sipped and a blush rose to her cheeks. She had remained indifferent to compliments to her beauty but compliments to her work made her blush. Oh God, he slipped a little deeper into infatuation. She had nothing of the coyness of a beautiful woman.
He’d dated good-looking women, and there was usually a background hum of how’m I doing? going on. Am I beautiful enough? Are you paying me enough attention? If I tilt my head just so, you can admire my profile. Your last compliment was half an hour ago, I need another one. Quick.
All that.
But nothing like that with Parker, who was by a factor of ten the most beautiful woman he’d ever been out with or even seen.
She didn’t want or need compliments on her looks.
But she did appreciate compliments on her work.
And rightly. What he’d read and seen represented hours and days and months and years of very hard work.
Like a SEAL who didn’t need compliments on his physique.
It was earned, fought for. It was what a SEAL could do that was important, not what he looked like.
“Thanks for that.” She looked down at the tabletop. She was self-assured, but at that moment she looked a little shy. “I appreciate it.”
“No need to thank me. You earned it. You could tell that there was a ton of research behind it, but it was thoroughly readable. Do you have a list of future books in your head?”
She looked at him carefully as if judging whether he really wanted an answer. Yeah, he really did.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“Absolutely sure.”
“Okay. After Apocalypse Then, I was thinking of writing about Justinian’s Plague. Don’t know if you’ve ever heard of it.”
He frowned. “Well, me not having heard about something historic isn’t a sign of anything but my ignorance. But no, never heard of it.”
“Don’t worry. Not too many people have. And yet, it was the first world-wide pandemic that we know of.
Some scholars say it was the first outbreak of bubonic plague, though some think it was smallpox.
It is estimated to have killed something like fifty million people, about twenty-five percent of the world population. This would be around 550 AD.”
“Fascinating.” Nick stared. “That sounds really timely. And it would sell tons. This is fun. Anything else up your sleeve?”
She blew out a breath. “The Ninth Legion.”
“Wait. I know that one. It disappeared, right?”
She nodded, “Over five thousand men. Gone. In a military culture that tracked the number of bread rolls. An absolute mystery.”
“Wasn’t it in England when it was lost?”
“That’s the theory. They crossed Hadrian’s Wall into Caledonia—what is now known as Scotland. Where resistance to Rome was fierce. Nobody really knows what happened, though there are a lot of theories. You were a military man, right?”
“For twelve years, yeah. Six years as a Navy SEAL.”
“So maybe I’ll use you as a military consultant. You’ll understand military weaponry and tactics better than I ever could. I’ll credit you in the acknowledgements.”
He grinned. “Oh man, yeah. Count me in. That would be great.” The whole idea tickled him.
Being a consultant for a book on one of the great historical military mysteries.
Getting named in the book. “My mom will be delighted that I got my name in a book. She thinks I am a barbarian. She’s not wrong. ”
“No, no. You’re not a barbarian. Far from it.”
Parker covered his hand with hers. Her hand was soft and warm, and he never wanted her to lift it. He was listening to her words, but they came from far away. His hand buzzed where she touched it, like a mild electric shock.
Without even thinking about it, he covered her hand with his and the buzz increased. He looked at their two hands, hers slim and elegant, long fingered. A pianist’s hand. His hands looked like blunt instruments of war.
Not too far from the truth.
That buzz was stronger now.
She said something, and he couldn’t hear the words. All he could see was those amazing eyes and those luscious lips moving.
Finally, she smiled and withdrew her hand. He missed it. Some crazy connection was broken and the world rushed back in.
“—like?”
“What?”
Maybe Parker was used to men zoning out on her because she simply repeated what she’d said. “I said, what would you like? They’re all good.”
What was she—oh. The waiter had arrived while he’d been spaced out and had slid a big hand-painted oval platter full of desserts on the table.
Fuck. If this had been like most of the places he’d been stationed, someone could have slid a platter of grenades before him, and he wouldn’t have noticed.
Parker was messing with his head. And she wasn’t doing it on purpose, wasn’t even aware of it.
She was smiling at him, serving fork in hand, over a platter of what looked like an amazing array of incredible desserts. One looked like a tan mushroom. Or a very strange dick.
“What’s that?” Nick asked.
Her smile broadened and she cut the mushroom into one large piece, the other much smaller. “It’s a baba.” The larger piece was deposited on his dessert plate. “Try it, you’ll like it.”
She watched as he put a bit in his mouth and laughed. “There you go. Great, isn’t it?”
It was a delicate cake soaked in alcohol. “Rum?”
“Good for you. Yes, it’s called a Baba a rum, a local specialty. Do you like it?”
It was amazing. Nick finished his portion in a couple of bites, hoping no cop stopped him as he drove home because there was enough rum in it to fell a horse.
“And now this.” Parker put a triangular shaped pastry made of a billion layers folded over each other on his plate.
“I know this one, they were at the hotel breakfast buffet this morning. But I was in a hurry and didn’t try it.”
“Now’s your moment,” she smiled, and he cut a slice of the fragrant, crumbly pastry. “That’s called a sfogliatella, which means many-layered.”
“Mm.” Nick was too busy chewing to answer. It was almost better than the Baba, filled with a fragrant creamy filling. It was gone in an instant. Then he looked at her plate, frowning. “I’m not eating another bite until you have something.”
Parker laughed. “Yes, mom. Sorry. I was busy watching you.”
“Glad to be a source of entertainment. But watch me while eating something. You’re a writer. You can do two things at the same time.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, amused, and bit into her much smaller piece of Baba. When she’d finished it, she cut out a large piece of a small pie. “Here, try this.”
He did and his eyes widened.
“Yep.” She smiled. “That’s pastiera. Made of wheat berries. Very good.”
It was. But there was a problem. “You’re not eating any. That’s not good.”
She sighed. “Much as I’d love to, there simply isn’t room. And besides, I am familiar with all of these sweets. The fun is watching you eat them for the first time.” She loaded something else on his plate. A pretty pale-yellow mound. She pointed to it.
“I obey,” he said, though even he was starting to be full. But man…the mound was creamy and lemony and delicious. He grinned, hoping the icing wasn’t stuck to his teeth.
Parker smiled back at him. “That’s called Delizia al limone. Lemon delight.”
“In the military, there’s a saying that’s used a lot. Do the hard thing.” He dug in. “Look at me. Doing the hard thing.”
She laughed and Nick held his breath for a moment. She laughed like she seemed to do everything. Wholeheartedly and without pretense. That long white throat tipped back, eyes closed.
Her eyes opened unexpectedly, and she found him staring at her. He was so busted, so he just kept staring.
Her eyebrows lifted in an unspoken question.
“You should laugh more often,” he said.
Parker sighed. “You don’t know me well enough to know if I laugh often or not, though I have been told I am too serious. Sorry.”
She’d taken it as criticism and the last thing Nick wanted was for her to feel he disapproved of her. He liked everything about her.
“No, I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. I really do apologize.”
“It was a stupid thing to say. If for no other reason, because a lot of women have to hear men tell them to smile more often. It’s tedious. But I forgive you, because you did make me laugh.”
“It’s not a laughing world.”
“No,” she agreed. “It’s not. Which is why it’s so great to be light-hearted every once in a while.”
“Yeah.” God knows he hadn’t had many light-hearted moments these past years.
And—though she presumably hadn’t been in war zones—Nick had a flash of insight into this stunning, mysterious beauty.