“You’re Lee Venzi?” he blurted out.
Everyone turned to stare at me, alerted by the tone of his voice, so I was the only one who saw his expression turn to something darker, almost hateful – before he controlled his features and looked away.
My heart lurched uncomfortably. He looked like he really hated me. I hadn’t expected that, although I suppose I couldn’t blame him. It must have been a difficult time for him after I’d left. Even so, to have such a residue of dislike after so long… I began to feel a little sick.
I took a deep breath and tried to focus on my notes.
Marc nudged me to attract my attention.
“You know that guy? Mr. Sullen-but-beautiful?”
“Yes, we’ve met,” I said, dryly.
“Hmm, I think there’s a story there, Venzi. Care to share?”
“Some other time.”
He eyed me narrowly, but I twitched a small smile and returned my waning attention to the talk.
Unwillingly, I glanced at Sebastian, but he was staring out of the window, a faraway expression on his face. I wondered if he was remembering, as I was, how we’d met, and our brief but stormy summer of love. Or lust. Depending on your point of view.
Even as I tried to bat away the images, they filled my mind. Even now I remembered the intensity of our lovemaking; the way we could never get enough of each other – his hands, his lips, his tongue sweeping across my body.
As the lieutenant continued to lecture us on precautions against carjacking and criminal attacks, shatterproof windows and tracking devices, I was devoured by a series of increasingly erotic images that brought a warm flush of color to my cheeks.
“Because most attacks occur on reaching home,” the lieutenant droned on, “always ensure that you can drive straight into your garage or compound, and secure the door or gate behind you.”
Liz looked bored, utterly clueless as to the helter-skelter of emotions that disturbed the equilibrium of my mind. She began to whisper an amusing tale to me, the gist of which was that she’d ended up ramming her car into the garage wall not once but twice, during a posting in Cairo, doing exactly what the lieutenant was suggesting. Her sotto voce comment was more voce than sotto, and caused several titters among the rest of the journalists.
The young lieutenant looked annoyed at Liz’s too-loud interruption to his lecture.
“This is serious, madam. What I tell you today may save your life.”
Uh-oh. Wrong thing to say to Miss Ticking-timebomb.
She inflated like the turkey float on the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade.
“Listen, sunshine, you may think you’re something special with a weapon of mass destruction dangling between your legs, but let me tell you a thing or two: I’ve been to the frontline of every war since Uganda in 1979, before you were bloody well born.” She started ticking them off on her fingers. “Angola, Croatia, Rwanda, Bosnia, Iraq, Kuwait, Afghanistan… bloody hell, places you’ve never even heard of. And this woman,” she pointed her chin at me, “has been in more hot spots than you’ve had hot dates.”
I could have predicted Liz’s response, although I didn’t agree with her: to me the next assignment was always like the first – and experienced correspondents were just as likely to get hurt as the newbies.
The lieutenant’s ears turned red, and he looked flustered. I thought I detected a small smile on Sebastian’s lips, but it immediately disappeared, so I couldn’t be sure.
Major Parsons stepped in to retrieve the situation and the poor lieutenant was allowed to continue.
Several times, during the rest of the lecture, I felt Sebastian’s eyes on me, but every time I looked up, he’d glance away with a sneer on his beautiful face.