By lunchtime, I’d worked up enough courage to speak to him. But Sebastian, it seemed, had other ideas. He disappeared out of the door before I had the chance to utter a single syllable. I sighed: it looked like he wanted to avoid me.
Marc, however, more than usually sensitive to the emotions of others, was on the trail of a story.
“Come on, Lee, spill your beans. How do you know our Chief Hunter?”
“And how come you didn’t say you know him,” said Liz, sounding annoyed.
“It was a long time ago,” I said, trying to sound casual, and failing miserably.
“And?”
“And nothing,” I insisted.
“Oh, come on, Lee!” said Liz, accusingly. “You get me to tell you all the scandal I know about our mysterious Chief Hunter, and you don’t even mention that you already know him. You’re holding out, I can tell.”
“Yes, chérie,” agreed Marc with a smile, “I, too, think you are keeping secrets.”
They knew me so well. Plus, they were journalists, which made them the nosiest people on the planet.
“I met him when I lived in California,” I said at last. “When I was married.”
“Ah,” said Liz, knowingly. “Fair enough, Lee.”
They both knew I was divorced and didn’t like to talk about my marriage. Thankfully, they didn’t ask any further questions.
I spent an uncomfortable lunch hour wondering what to say to him. What could I say? Sorry about that – I hope I didn’t ruin your life – how are you?
In any event, I didn’t have to say anything because Sebastian didn’t return after lunch. His departure wasn’t commented on by his British colleagues, and they stoically ignored his absence.
The afternoon session continued with little to inform or interest those of us who had sat through these lectures several times before. The only bit I was really interested in came on day two and covered questions specific to Kabul and, to a lesser extent, Kandahar.
I wondered why Sebastian hadn’t come back. Surely it couldn’t have anything to do with me? That would just be ridiculous.
When we were finally dismissed for the day, Liz wandered off to catch up with some sources, or so she said. I suspected these were more sauces – and of the alcoholic type. Marc muttered something about a prior engagement and I was left to my own, tangled thoughts.
Irritated with myself and perplexed by Sebastian’s behavior, I spent a dreary evening in my room. I amused myself by writing long emails to Alice and Jenna. I didn’t bother writing more than a few words to Nicole: I knew she only read the first and last paragraphs, unless the messages were from a guy.
I thought that I was at least tired enough to manage a reasonable amount of sleep, but my dreams were haunted by a memory of sea-green eyes, golden skin and naked flesh.
I was rudely awoken shortly after dawn, by an orgasm ripping through me. My back arched and my legs were rigid as I rode out the waves of sensation.
I sat up gasping, shocked at the way my body had betrayed me.
What the hell was that? An orgasm in my sleep?! That definitely hadn’t happened before.
I staggered into the shower, trying to wash away the memories that continued to torment me.
The second day of the training began much like the first, except Sebastian’s continuing coldness towards me became apparent to the others.
“The beautiful Chief Hunter is staring at you again, Lee,” said Marc, unnecessarily. “He does not look happy with you.”
Sadly, I had to agree.
Today the lectures had started off with how to spot a minefield. Dead animals were a big clue, but it was also looking out for areas avoided by locals, particularly if the surrounding area was turned to agriculture, where anything overgrown stood out. Pieces of waxed packaging were something to look out for, too – explosives often came wrapped in them.
And then, for the language section of our training, we were in Sebastian’s capable hands – something of which I’d once had considerable experience.
“Yes,” said Liz, agreeing with Marc’s assessment, “young Chief Hunter narrows his eyes every time he looks at you.”