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“Greek place called Nerai. On East 54th.”
“Cool. Hang tight, be there in a bit.”
Before Murph could say anymore, the call ended. Great. The last thing he wanted to do was sit around this place lusting after the last woman on planet Earth he should ever want, but it looked like he was stuck. He visited the men’s room, splashed cold water on his face, straightened his hair, and basically wasted as much time as humanly possible before heading back to the table with the women. Unfortunately, Mel and Shayma were still there and still talking. At least they’d had food delivered. His stomach growled and he realized he’d not eaten since the night before.
He took his seat again and Mel passed him a plate. “We weren’t sure what you liked so we ordered a bunch of different appetizers. There’s tiger shrimp cocktail, spinach pies, and crispy calamari. Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” He reached for a spinach pie at the same time Shayma did and their fingers brushed. Tiny sparks of awareness jolted up his arm from the contact and he pulled away fast. “Sorry.”
“No, no. Go ahead.” Shayma gave him a shy smile, that pretty pink color rising in her cheeks again. Apparently, he’d not been the only one who’d felt that jolt. Mel, of course, sat across from them, watching their interaction with interest.
“So,” Mel said, nibbling on a piece of calamari. “You’re not dating anyone right now, are you Murphy?”
He nearly choked on his bite of spinach pie and hurriedly gulped water to avoid embarrassing himself. “Why?”
“Just wondering.” Mel gave him an innocent smile. “Shayma’s here through the holidays and she’s alone too. I thought it might be nice if you two spent some time together, kept each other company.”
“I’m working this afternoon,” Murphy said, swallowing a lump of tiger shrimp, though it could’ve been cement, for all he tasted it. He gave Shayma a quick glance. “Sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. Mel and I have plans today anyway. We’re going wedding dress shopping for her.” She shrugged and sighed. “I believe she was talking about later, like tonight or tomorrow.”
Murphy knew damned well exactly what Mel was talking about and he didn’t appreciate it one bit. Just because she and Daveed had hooked up and were full of pink hearts and rainbows for each other didn’t mean the rest of the world had to join in. Bah humbug was right. Maybe old Scrooge wasn’t such a bad guy after all. He grunted caveman-style in reply, then shoved the rest of his shrimp in his mouth and washed it down with another gulp of water. He was going to float away pretty soon if he didn’t get a handle on himself. Normally he kept his emotions under a tight lid, safely tucked away deep inside where they belonged. But there was something about Shayma that seemed to bring out the beast in him, and not in a good way either. Seemed all it took was one flick of those pretty brown eyes of hers his way and his hormones switched into the red-zone.
With more effort than he cared to admit, Murph forced his attention away from the tantalizing, totally confounding woman across from him and back to Mel’s incessant chatter. He didn’t know wedding dresses from work clothes, nor did he really want to either.
“I honestly have no idea what to get,” Mel said, admiring the sparkling engagement ring on her left hand for the umpteenth time. Murph would bet that rock cost his pal Daveed a pretty penny. Not that the guy couldn’t afford it. He was frigging Middle East royalty after all, due to inherit the sheikhdom of Al Dar Nasrani from his father one day. And yeah, there’d been a bit of turbulence following Daveed’s sudden breakup with Shayma in favor of America’s Favorite Socialite Mel, but apparently that had all been smoothed over, at least according to what Daveed had told him yesterday.
“Why don’t we start at Bergdorf’s?” Shayma suggested. “Then we can branch out from there.”
“Yikes. That’s all designer though.” Mel frowned. “Daveed’s still rich, but I really want to learn how to live on a budget. I’ve kept my job at MAC too, so I can earn my keep.” She tossed her napkin down and grabbed her impossibly tiny purse off the table. “I need to hit the ladies’. Be right back.”
Like the rest of us humans, Murphy wanted to add, but refrained as he watched Mel walk away. Mel’s parents had forgiven her too, after they’d discovered Daveed would be the proud ruler of an entire island someday. Ugh. Murph shook his head and sat back. He wasn’t usually so pessimistic about everything. Had to be the holidays getting him in such a dour mood. All their excessive cheerfulness and emphasis on family always made him painfully aware of what he didn’t have.
He glanced up to find Shayma watching him again, her gaze far too perceptive for his comfort. Then she shocked the hell out of him by saying, “I know what you’re doing.”
Brows knitted, he scowled. “Huh?”
“Working with the guys. You need to find your sister, before the people who took her hurt her.”
Yep. That about summed it up. And also had him pushing to his feet. Sitting here snacking on overly-priced seafood wouldn’t help find Aileen. “I need to go.”
“Violence won’t solve things. That’s why I stopped you out on the sidewalk. You can’t go beating up everyone you think is responsible for your sister’s disappearance and expect anyone to talk to you or want to help.” Shayma crossed her arms, highlighting those perfect breasts of hers, and not for the first time Murphy wondered why the hell Daveed hadn’t married her. Yeah, Shayma could be a bit nosy, as evidenced by this lunch, but she was downright, stunningly beautiful. She sort of reminded him of that actress, the one from Israel everyone was talking about from the new superhero movie—except even more gorgeous, if that were possible. If Murph had a gal like Shayma waiting for him at home, he’d never leave the house. Hell, he’d never leave the bed, for fuck’s sake.
She leaned closer, near enough for him to catch a hint of her spicy, sweet perfume mixed with warm, clean woman and shit if his cock didn’t twitch. He shifted in his seat to hide his growing arousal. Not acceptable. No way. He just needed to get laid. It had been too long. That was all.
“Mel told me your sister was doing a story on a clean energy firm—EnKor—and that you think they know something about what happened to her,” Shayma said, her low whisper brushing over him like
crushed velvet. His skin tingled and his throat constricted and Murphy knew right then and there that he was in more danger from this woman than he’d ever been in from deadly snipers out in the Afghan deserts. “I can help you with that.”
It took Murph a second to realize she was talking about Aileen’s disappearance and not his rapidly hardening cock. Grateful for the change of topic, he sat forward. “You know about EnKor? Tell me.”
“Must be nice to take leisurely lunches anytime you like,” Heath said as he plopped down into the empty chair at the table beside Murphy. “Where’s Mel?”
“Bathroom,” Murph said, scrubbing his hand through his hair, thankful the napkin in his lap hid the evidence of his still persistent arousal. Damn. He’d been so distracted by Shayma that he hadn’t even noticed his buddies come into the restaurant. As a trained SEAL, used to being in the roughest, toughest hotspots around the world, such lapses were unacceptable. Such lapses would get a man killed. “I was just getting ready to head back to my post and see if I got another chance to nab one of those EnKor bastards for questioning.”
“I told him I have a better idea,” Shayma said, giving Daveed a quick nod of greeting as Mel returned from the restroom. “My father is minister of energy in Al Dar Nasrani. Chances are good he can get us in to talk with them. If you’d like, I can call him when I get to my hotel room later and ask him to set something up for us.”
“There is no ‘us’,” Murph said, giving her a stern look. “This mission is for me and the guys to handle. Thanks, but no thanks on the help. We got it.”
