Three years ago, Stacie Vandercoy was stuck undercover in Iraq for six months with Jeff “Rock Star” Lennon, the arrogant SEAL who thought he was God’s gift to women. But he couldn’t have her. Fraternization is against the rules. When they were both captured, he proved he couldn’t be trusted with State secrets. She didn’t like or respect the man, but her professionalism had allowed her to work with him recently in Cancun. Thankfully, he hadn’t been in the next bedroom, or walking around shirtless, or singing love songs accompanied by his guitar, tempting her, like he had in Iraq. Now they are required to work together in Norfolk, Virginia. Again. Can she still resist him? Does she have to?
Jeff Lennon had been forced to do things he didn’t like as a Navy SEAL, and as an agent for the terrorist division of Homeland Security’s Border Patrol. For years, his only real regret has been what he’d had to do to Stacie back in Iraq. He’s been given another chance to make amends and prove he’s not the man she believes him to be. Then, maybe, he can claim her heart, body and soul. In the meantime, he has to stop a terrorist attack somewhere in the Norfolk area, during Fleet Week.
Even the agency’s psychologist isn’t sure Stacie can pull off pretending to be Jeff’s wife. What lengths will Stacie and Jeff go to assure the mission’s success? And what will they both lose in the process?
I do a lot of research for every book and this novella was no different. Macho Marine actually came up with the action black moment and figured out how the terrorists could do it. Above is the USS George Bush and below are five, nuclear-powered aircraft carriers docked at Naval Station Norfolk in December 2015. The picture doesn't show all the dozens of other ships that accompany them when they go out for months at a time.
“What’s up with all the facial hair?” Zane pointed out Jeff’s full beard and moustache. “If I’d seen you walking around Fleet Week I would have tracked you.”
“Hey, that’s profiling,” Jeff retorted.
Zane laughed. “That’s my job. You look like a fucking terrorist.”
At that, Jeff smiled. “Good. That’s my new job.”
Below is an areal photograph of the Hampton Roads tunnel which allows the ships pictured above to easily exit the harbor.
What the hell was the agency shrink doing there? She’d find out soon enough, but this wasn’t exactly a good sign.
Stacie called out so as to be heard from behind the closed door, “One minute, please.” Staying in character, she threw on her abaya and naqib, then opened the door.
“Good for you, Stacie. Glad to see you in that outfit.” The mid-forties rocket blew in, taking Stacie’s attention with her. She started to close the door, but a strong hand pushed it fully open.
Stacie looked up into hazel eyes she knew all too well.
She was thankful for the naqib and thick veil she wore. She closed her mouth before she started to drool.
Jeff stood inches from her. Even through the new cloth she wore over her face, she could smell him. That spicy, clean, and all-man scent that was uniquely his, she’d be able to find him blindfolded in a crowded football stadium.
His bright white teeth split the neatly-trimmed, dark brown beard and moustache when he smiled. “Hi, honey, I’m home.”