When the server told them he’d bring back the perfect red wine to accompany their meal, Harley decided she’d have to take his word for that, since she knew less about wine than she did about being a werewolf. After the man poured it into their glasses and waited while they tasted it, she had to admit the fruity wine was delicious.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” she said to Sawyer as the server left. At his questioning look, she added, “I overheard Weatherford talking to you and your team before we left the hotel.”
She hadn’t been eavesdropping, but she was a werewolf, so hearing other people’s conversations without meaning to came with the territory. Sawyer’s boss had been outside the conference room with the rest of the team when they’d walked out and said he needed to speak to Sawyer, so she’d wandered down to the far end of the hallway to wait for him.
Sawyer nodded, his blue eyes clouding. “Thanks. Silas was a good man.”
According to Weatherford, Sawyer’s former teammate, Silas Thompson, was killed early that morning while on a mission. MI6 didn’t have many details yet and sounded like they were still trying to figure out what happened. All they knew for sure was that someone slit his throat. Sawyer and his team had all seemed to take the news hard.
“Something tells me this isn’t the first time work has brought you to Paris,” she said, partly because she was genuinely curious, but also because she felt badly for reminding Sawyer about his fallen teammate.
As Sawyer shook his head, Harley couldn’t help but notice once again how handsome he was. Who knew she had a thing for British guys? Or was she so attracted to him because he was a werewolf?
“I’ve been here half a dozen times or more with my team, but this is the first time I’ve ever gone out to see the sights,” he said. “The missions we go on are all about getting in and getting out. I’ve traveled all around the world and seen almost none of it.”
Harley grimaced. “That sounds downright depressing.”
Sawyer shrugged his broad shoulders. “Can’t disagree with you there. I love my job and being with my team makes everything worthwhile, but sometimes, it seems like I’m missing something.”
She understood that. The need to find whatever was missing from her life was the reason she’d taken McKay up on his offer to join STAT after she’d spent most of her time avoiding hanging around anyone for more than a couple weeks.
“Maybe you simply need a vacation,” she suggested.
“Vacation?” He let out a husky laugh. “What’s that?”
She smiled at him over the rim of her wineglass. “I hear ya. I haven’t worked for STAT long enough to even earn any vacation time yet. Check back when I do and I’ll let you know if I’m the vacation type.”
Their server showed up to prepare their Caesar salad table side, then left, but not before placing a basket of crunchy, freshly baked bread. Harley had to fight the urge to moan at the first taste of tangy dressing that covered the assortment of greens. She’d had Caesar salad many times, but this was the best she’d ever eaten.
“You’ve only worked for STAT a little while, yet you’ve been a werewolf for eight years?” Sawyer asked after most of his salad was gone and he’d slowed his pace a little. “How did that happen?”
Harley tried to keep her fork moving so Sawyer wouldn’t realize she was floundering for something to say. Well, something to say that wouldn’t reveal how totally screwed up her life had been the past eight years.
“It’s…complicated.”
“Complicated stories are the best kind.” The corners of his mouth tipped up a little before he sipped his wine. “But for the sake of conversation, let’s start with something simple. How did you become a werewolf?”
Every trace of air left her lungs and she felt a tingle in her gums and fingertips as her aforementioned inner werewolf tried to make an appearance. But that was silly. That stuff didn’t happen to her. She’d never been able to shift into her wolf form, partially or otherwise.
Thankfully, their server interrupted before she could say anything. He smiled when he saw they’d both demolished their salads and the basket of bread. Taking the plates away, he used one of those fancy metal spatula things to scrape up the crumbs from the linen tablecloth, then two assistants swooped in with their main course, the steaks still sizzling and the aromas savory enough to make even Harley’s nose sit up and beg. The slim fries looked mouthwatering and she barely stopped herself from asking for a bottle of ketchup before their server left. They probably didn’t have ketchup in a place like this.
Harley focused on her dinner, hoping Sawyer would forget what they’d been talking about. Perfectly cooked, the spicy beef melted in her mouth. When she finally glanced up, it was to see him regarding her with a raised eyebrow, and she knew she was out of luck.
“Well?” he prompted when she still didn’t say anything.
“Isn’t asking how I became a werewolf kind of personal?” She speared another piece of beef with her fork. “It’s like asking a woman how old she is.”
“It can’t be that personal since you had no problem revealing your age at the drop of a hat earlier,” Sawyer countered in that devastating accent of his, humor filling his tone.
She picked up a well-seasoned french fry and nibbled on it. Mmm. French fries in France really did taste better. “If it isn’t a big deal, why don’t you go first and tell me how you became a werewolf?”
He chuckled. “Seriously? That’s how this is going to go? You’ll show me yours if I show you mine?”
She laughed, unable to help herself. Just like that, she relaxed.
“I’d already been working covert operations with the British SAS for six years when MI6 approached me.” He cut into his fillet and casually chewed the first bite. Werewolves had sharp teeth, even in fully human form, and the morsel disappeared quickly. “It wasn’t that big of a career change, and who wouldn’t want to be an agent for MI6? I jumped at the offer.”
“How long did you work for them before going through your change?” she asked, taking a bite of her own steak.
Going through the change was the safe phrase werewolves used to describe going through the incredibly horrible event that would kill a normal person, but in their cases, it flipped the switch on a gene and turned them into something totally different.
His mouth edged up. “If you don’t count the training, barely two months. I was with my team in Odessa on what was supposed to be a minor surveillance job. We thought there’d be a low probability of hostile contact because our intel said they were a group of wannabe terrorists, led by some Ukrainian oil magnate named Yegor Shevchenko. This guy and his brother were pissed off about something and were looking to buy weapons to stage their first attack.