Page 24 of Emerald

“You do that anyway.” He laughs.This is true.

“When does she arrive?”

“Tomorrow morning. I’ll send you the flight details,” Brooks tells me.

“Fine, I’ll pick her up. How long is she going to be here?” I ask. Wondering how long this stranger is going to be invading my space.

“I don’t know, however long it takes.”

“So, indefinitely, then?” I ask, raising my voice.

“Maybe. We need to find this girl whether she’s dead or alive. It might take a while to get the information and whatnot,” he explains.

“You know I don’t like women in my space. They usually only stay for the night and that’s it. This is pushing the friendship,” I tell him.

“I’m using my favor,” he states.

“Fucking fine,” I say with a grumble. “Warn her my house, my rules, okay? I like my privacy.”

“She’s aware, don’t worry.” He chuckles.Fucking bastard.

“If that’s all the bullshit you need from me. Goodnight. I have a woman to fuck before I kick her out.” I hang up the phone to the sound of Brooks laughing.

Ellie Clarksaysthe homemade sign as I stand and wait for Sophie’s sister to arrive at Cancun Airport. I have no idea what the hell she looks like. Brooks told me it would be a surprise. I think the fucker is having way too much fun torturing me over this and I don’t appreciate it. The doors to the arrivals open, and the floodgates of tourists pile out into the tropical heat, all excited about whatever adventure they have been planning for years. Everything stops when I see the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen step out. She’s dressed in tight jeans showing offher long legs, a white tee that molds to her perfect breasts, and trainers. She has big, dark glasses covering her eyes, so I can’t see what color they are. Her blonde hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, which is perfect for wrapping around your wrist. Her luscious lips are painted in the perfect shade of pink, the same color as a woman’s nipples. Perfection. If I wasn’t waiting for Sophie’s sister, I would be certainly making my way over to this goddess and introducing myself to her.

I don’t do so bad for myself. I’m tall at 6 foot 5 inches and still work out like I did in the SEALs, so every inch of me is cut. You never know living down south when something might go wrong, so I’m always prepared. My skin is tanned, I have a six to an eight-pack depending on the number of beers I’ve drunk. My light brown hair is buzzed short, it’s cooler. Maybe I could have shaved, I’ve got a bit of stubble, but I’ve gotten out of bed early for this stranger, so you’re going to get what you get. I’m still young at thirty-seven. I don’t smoke, I eat well except I drink, and I like women, a lot of them. Can’t be perfect all the time.

I watch as this goddess gets closer, her face scanning the crowd. Of course, someone like her is meeting someone. She probably has a rich sugar daddy or a football player boyfriend. She then turns and zeroes in on me. Dammit, it could have been my lucky day with this girl, but I’m waiting for whoever the hell this Ellie Clark is.Wasn’t our time, sugar.

Then she walks over to where I’m standing and stops. She lifts her dark glasses and shows off her bright blue eyes. Gorgeous.

“Hi, I’m Ellie Clark, you must be Nash Madden,” she says, holding out her hand for me. She has the faintest twang of an accent to her English, but I’m not sure what it is. Sophie’s Australian, so that must be it.

Wait a minute, this woman is Sophie’s sister? Why the hell have I never seen her in any of the photos she had lying around when we were all out in the Middle East together?

“You’re Nash, Brooks’ friend, aren’t you?” she asks, her brows pulled together, wondering why the hell I’m mute.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m Nash,” I say, taking her outstretched hand and shaking it.

“Great, well, that’s me and this is my luggage,” she states, showing off her suitcase and carry-on bag.

“Right, let me get that for you,” I say, forgetting my manners.

She gives me a bright smile as I take her luggage for her.

“We’re just outside. It’s about a ten-minute walk to the parking lot.”

She falls into step beside me as we navigate our way through the crowds and head over to the car.

“You’re Sophie’s sister? I’ve never seen your picture before,” I ask her.

“I’m adopted,” she states.

A frown forms on my face. “Really? Sophie never had any pictures of you when we were in the Middle East. Was it after that?” She does look younger than Sophie so it’s possible.

“You ask a lot of questions?” she says, turning to me as those blue eyes look me up and down, assessing me.

Good one, Nash, interrogating the beautiful woman within five minutes of meeting her.

---