Striker had been trained to fight and rescue, to do whatever was necessary for his country’s best interest. No doubt his grandfather had counted on that when devising his will.
“Sir, I feel compelled to point out that I know nothing whatsoever about the oil business or about business in general,” Striker said.
“That doesn’t matter,” General Hyett replied. “All you have to do is show up and stand guard for two months, then you can return to your regular duties. Isn’t that right, ma’am? You said that would meet the terms of the will.”
“That’s right.”
“Good. Then it’s agreed,” the general stated. “Look on this as just another mission, Captain. I’m sure you’ll complete it as successfully as you have all the others.”
Striker nodded curtly. He knew when he was beaten. “Thank you, sir.”
“You and Ms. Bradley may use the conference room next door to work out the details,” Commander Jenks told Striker. “That will be all. Dismissed.”
Striker saluted before doing a precise about-face and heading for the door, which he held open for Kate. It wasn’t until they were alone in the conference room that he displayed some of his pent-up frustration and anger.
“You and Hank had this all worked out, didn’t you?” he growled.
“For your information, I told Hank that this wasn’t a good idea,” Kate replied in that highfalutin voice of hers.
“Bravo for you.”
“He didn’t listen to me.”
“That’s a pity.”
“Look, I’m no happier about this state of affairs than you are.”
“And why is that?”
“I’ve got better things to do with my time than deal with stubborn Marines who have a chip on their shoulder.”
The woman clearly had an attitude problem. He knew why he was upset—he felt like his grandfather was still trying to control him even from beyond the grave. In addition, Striker had never done well dealing with the world of the rich and privileged.
He had his reasons, going all the way back to his time on Hank’s Westwind Ranch. That had been his mom’s idea. Hank had convinced her during one of their rare phone conversations that “the boys” should have a choice, should see what they were missing. Hank could have suggested having them work the rigs out in the oil fields, but instead he’d been wily enough to suggest they visit the ranch.
Striker wondered if his mom had ever been afraid her sons might be wooed over to the dark side by the wealth and the power visible at Westwind. Or if she’d trusted them to stand by the ethics and values she’d instilled in them from birth.
Sure, money had been tight when he’d been growing up. But there had never been a lack of respect, love or laughter in their household.
The same could not be said about the domain of Hank and his “child” King Oil. In Hank’s world, he was absolute ruler. If you weren’t with him, then you were against him.
Which is why Striker had been so sure Hank had written him off. That and the fact that the old man had vowed to disown him the last time he’d seen him, after the disastrous nineteenth birthday party Hank had thrown for Striker. In fact, Hank had shouted the words, tossing the threat at him as if throwing hand grenades. His face had been taut with rage, his oversized fists clenched.
Not the picture of the loving grandfather. But there had been other moments, when Hank had taught Striker how to bait a hook and taken him fishing, that had given Striker hope that there might have been a bond forged between them.
He’d never know now….
Striker turned off the memories and refocused his attention on Kate.
The bottom line was that this lady lawyer, with her fancy ways and arrogant assumptions that he’d obediently fall in with his grandfather’s plans, represented that wealthy lifestyle—the one that Striker had so painfully collided with that summer.
Oh, yeah, he had plenty of reasons to be upset.
But he didn’t know why she had eyed him so disapprovingly, calling him a stubborn Marine. Her voice had a new edge to it, an edge that got him wondering what her story was.
“How many Marines have you dealt with?” he asked.
“Not many,” she admitted. “But I know your type.”
“Really? And what type might that be, ma’am?” he drawled, noticing for the first time how lush her mouth was.
“The type that takes pleasure in living on the edge. The type that never feels more alive than when you’re risking your life.”
“Is that a crime?”
Kate wanted to answer that it should be. But that would mean revealing too much about her inner feelings, so she bit her tongue and stayed silent instead.
“How long were you Hank’s attorney?” he demanded.
“Why do you care?” she countered.
“Just answer the question.”
“Two years. Before that my father had been his attorney for a number of years. But my father had a heart attack and was required to cut back his workload, so I took over several of his clients, including Mr. King.”
Striker wondered what she was thinking, wondered what was going on behind those cool blue eyes of hers. He preferred doing that to dealing with his own torn emotions—the unexpected grief at knowing he was never going to make peace with his grandfather, the conflicting resentment toward the old man for manipulating him even from the grave.
He had to view this entire mess as if it were just another special op. Get in, accomplish the mission, get out.
But none of his missions had ever tugged at his emotions this way.
Sure, he’d been affected by some of the things he’d seen over the years. But you packaged it up, put it on the shelf and got on with the job.
Good advice. He needed to do that here.
Striker had a feeling that would not be easy in this case.
Not that Marines were into easy. No, difficult was their specialty. A good Marine loves a challenge. And Kate was certainly a challenge.
Under other circumstances he might even have enjoyed flirting with her. If she hadn’t acted so icy and above him.
“I made our return travel arrangements before I left Texas,” she said. “We’re booked on a flight to San Antonio tonight.”
Okay, this was another thing that aggravated him about her. “Sure of yourself, aren’t you.”
Kate wished that was the case, but it wasn’t. Not at all. Striker could disrupt her normal calmness with remarkable ease. Which was why she’d wrapped her Ice Queen mantle around herself for protection. Who wouldn’t be rattled by coming face-to-face with the man who’d been the source of so many of her secret sexual fantasies, forbidden fantasies.
But there was more to it than that. So much more…
The bottom line was that Kate hadn’t anticipated this…thing…this physical thing that seemed to exist between them.
Just passing by him when he’d held the door open for her had made her heart beat twice as fast. Sitting at the large conference table with him now made