Operation Green Card Page 5

  Fuck it, straight guys were not supposed to kiss like that. Not other guys anyway. And they were sure as hell not supposed to be that unconcerned about being kissed by mistake. There’d been no outrage from Jason, no posturing, just a mild surprise. As if their lips had met fleetingly by an accident quickly corrected, when it had been nothing of the sort.

  Jason had answered that kiss as if he’d meant it, had gotten lips, tongue, teeth, and hands involved in that kiss that had rocked Arkady to the bottom of his boots. What if they hadn’t been interrupted by Jason’s buddies? What then?

  They walked in complete silence until Jason stopped in front of a small house with an ancient Toyota Camry sitting in front of the garage. He made a sweeping gesture at the somewhat overgrown front yard. “This is me.”

  Arkady wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but this wasn’t it. He needed to get used to America catching him by surprise. Apparently single men in their twenties owned their own houses in this country.

  He became suddenly aware of Jason watching him, and shrugged his musings off. “Is this where you invite me in for a drink?” he asked deadpan.

  Jason grinned. “You read my mind. Do you want to come in for a drink?” He gave Arkady a conspiratorial wink that sent a rush of heat through Arkady’s body.

  Fuck, he wanted to kiss this guy again. Jesus, fuck, he needed to get a grip. Fast. No matter how well Jason had dealt with that accidental kiss, there’d be a limit to his tolerance. And Arkady really didn’t want to get on the bad side of a guy who looked like he could throw him all the way back to Russia with one hand tied behind his back. He lowered his head, as much in assent as to hide his face from those perceptive eyes. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  After unlocking the front door, Jason flicked a switch on the inside, silhouetting the two of them in the wide-open doorway for long moment, before reaching around Arkady and pulling the door closed behind him. All part of the grand plan, presumably.

  The hallway was short and very tight, especially with someone of Jason’s bulk taking up most of the space and emanating the kind of body heat Arkady could feel through his shirt. Not making eye contact seemed like a seriously good idea right now, so he ended up studying the broken orange and brown linoleum under his feet. There was a tinkle of keys and then finally breathing room.

  “Are you coming?” Jason asked over his shoulder.

  Arkady followed him into a large room with a rough wood floor. A line down the middle indicated where a wall had been torn out. The remaining walls needed painting. A couch, armchair, low table, and TV unit with a large flat-screen TV were the only furniture. All relatively new, solid, no frills. The curtains covering the windows were the exact opposite: Clean, but yellow with age and decidedly frilly.

  “This your parents’ house?”

  “Grandparents’.”

  Suddenly the whole jumbled look made sense.

  “You’re renovating.”

  “I was. Started when I first got back from rehab. Mostly because I was bored to tears and in danger of self-pity.”

  That last one didn’t seem likely for the man Arkady was slowly getting to know. He was about to say so, when Jason continued. “I guess I was trying to, I dunno, make it my own? Make it a place where I . . .” He stalled, took a breath as if to start again, then shrugged. “Anyway, I got a job, needed more money, picked up more shifts.” He indicated the wall behind him, the upper half of which had been taken out, creating a large opening into the kitchen. A board provided a sort of breakfast bar between the two rooms, but the sides and top needed finishing. “Not worth it.”

  Not worth what? Finishing? Worrying about finishing? Arkady followed him into the kitchen. “What do you need the money for? You don’t seem to lead an expensive life.” It felt rude, asking that, but he really needed to know.

  Jason tapped a photograph of a toddler with pigtails and dimples that had been tacked to the fridge door with a magnet. “This is Lily, my daughter. I’m working on her college fund. Now it turns out she’s gifted and needs to go to a special school too.” It was said with a comical mix of pride and desperation, but Arkady didn’t think it was funny to Jason.

  “You’re married, then? Divorced?”

  Jason shook his head. “We were never married, Lily’s mom and I.” He stared into space, maybe at a memory.

  Something, a certain wistfulness in his expression, made Arkady ask, “Is she the one that got away? Her mom?”

  A half smile flickered across Jason’s face that was downright painful to watch. “Maybe. She made me feel like I belonged somewhere.” Then he shook himself. “Water under the bridge. She’s happily married now to one of the nicest guys I know.”

  Just like with the kiss earlier, there was no anger, no resentment in his voice. He seemed to be graced with infinite patience and capacity for understanding.

  Suddenly Arkady felt a lot better about Tasha’s crazy plan of importing him into a foreign country and marrying him to a stranger. “You are so not like Russian men.”

  A little crease appeared between Jason’s brows. “Sorry?”

  “No, don’t be. I like it. It’s very relaxing.”

  He got a doubtful look, but Jason didn’t pursue the matter. “Do you want a beer?” he asked instead, opening the fridge without waiting for a reply.

  “Sure.”

  Beer took up the whole bottom shelf of the fridge. The rest was scantily stocked with bread, mayo, cheese, ham, and half a head of lettuce. Arkady recognized sandwich territory when he saw it.

  Jason apparently followed his train of thought and grinned. “I suck at cooking. You?”

  “I’m the king of instant noodles,” Arkady offered.

  Jason laughed. “Great. We’re fucked.”

  They took their beers over to the sofa, where Jason sat with one knee up facing Arkady. “We need to talk this through. Have a solid plan that puts us on the same page when we’re asked.”

  “About what exactly?”

  “Feelings, romance, crap like that.”

  “A staunch believer in romance, are you?”

  Jason huffed.

  It wasn’t crap, though. And the completely unreasonable desire to show Jason, prove to him that romance wasn’t crap was strong. Jet lag probably. He was such a mess.

  Good thing that Jason at least was about as excitable as a rock. One of them needed to keep a cool head.

  With an exaggerated gesture, Arkady pointed at himself. “Well, I’m hopelessly romantic. Want to lay out your grand plan for me? I might be able to embellish the details.” When you can’t win, laugh about yourself.

  “Okay. Here it is. Operation Green Card. Listen closely.”

  “Should we write this down?” Arkady was having a hard time switching back to serious mode.

  But apparently Jason didn’t notice. “No. If we do get a visit from immigration, I don’t want to have to worry about every scrap of paper ever written in this house. Except in here,” He moved his index finger back and forth between his and Arkady’s head. “We’re a couple. The story is: instant chemistry.”

  Arkady swallowed but didn’t interrupt. There was nothing he could have said, anyway, but he sure wouldn’t have to lie about the instant-chemistry thing.

  “The story is: we start seeing each other, we fall in love, we marry.” Jason’s finger tapped the table on every one of those points. “Maybe we marry a bit faster than we would’ve done if your visa didn’t run out, but that’s all there’s to it; nothing to see here, moving on.” His eyes were intense, focused. “Think of it as an acting role you have to play pretty much 24/7. The more you live the story, the less likely you are to be caught in a lie.”

  Arkady leaned back. “You sound like an undercover cop.”

  That drew a laugh from Jason. “Close. Airborne Pathfinders, personnel recovery. Flying under the radar was a good way to stay alive.”

  “Personnel recovery. As in extracting soldiers from behind enemy lines?”

 
Jason nodded, then pointed his bottle at the window. “Wonder if I should take the curtains down to give the neighbors a better view. Never liked them anyway. The curtains. The neighbors are decent.”

  Arkady blinked at the sudden change in topic. “Er, you want to bring your acting ambitions indoors as well?”

  “Yeah, that might be a bit more than we can handle.”

  Clearly the topic of Jason’s military career was closed, but Arkady didn’t feel like letting it go. He needed to know this man, partly for the pretense, partly for his own safety. And then there was that niggling little voice that just wanted to see how far Jason could be pushed. Nobody could be that cool forever, could they?

  “Is that how you lost your leg? During personnel recovery?”

  Jason gaped at him with such shock and misery on his face that Arkady was almost sorry he’d asked.

  “How’d— Am I—” With a visible effort, Jason collected himself and took a swig of beer. He nearly choked on it, then let out a rush of air in what sounded like a desperate attempt at laughter. He leaned back into his couch corner and stretched the fingers of his free hand. Trying to relax, Arkady thought.

  “I guess I was hoping it wouldn’t be that obvious,” Jason finally said. “What gave me away?”

  “Nothing. Tasha told me.”

  “And how did she— Oh. When she barged in on me in front of Krueger’s office? I think he mentioned it?”

  “I have no idea. I assumed it was common knowledge.” It would take some serious determination to hide a missing leg from people who saw him every day.

  “No.” The little sun marks in the corners of Jason’s eyes tightened. “It isn’t. And I’d like to keep it that way.”

  Yup, determination, all right. Even if his uniform presumably didn’t include shorts. Arkady decided he’d pushed far enough for one night, nodded, and kept his mouth shut. He was doing a lot of that lately.

  After a minute of silence, Jason continued on his own. “It was a recovery mission that didn’t go according to plan. We completed the mission.” He paused, then said with emphasis, “I’ve never not completed a mission.”

  Arkady wasn’t sure if that was a general point of pride, or meant to reassure him as far as Operation Green Card was concerned.

  “But the price for that one was way higher than I’d bargained for. I should’ve insisted on g—” His gaze, which had been far away, focused abruptly and he shrugged. “So yeah . . .”

  “I would never have known if Tasha hadn’t mentioned it,” Arkady said, trying to make up for kicking a now-obvious sore spot.

  He didn’t get an answer. So much for trying to make the guy feel better. Time to get back to the original topic.

  “So, the plan is what? Have some public dates?” What he really wanted to ask was whether that would involve any more public kissing, but it hadn’t been Jason who’d started that, had it? Next time Arkady would know better where to draw the pretend line. Acting, my ass. Well, he’d better brush up on techniques for stage kisses.

  “Yeah,” Jason said. “Spend some time together. Make it look like we’re hitting it off.”

  “Romantic walks on the beach?” Jason rolled his eyes, which made Arkady laugh. “Hey, you’re the one who suggested we live the role. Your romantic streak needs some polishing. What better practice?”

  His answer was an exasperated stare, then Jason stretched and got up. “You keep thinking up those romantic schemes. I need to go to bed. Alarm rings at 4 a.m.” He pointed at the couch. “It pulls out. Bed stuff’s in the box. Bathroom’s upstairs; use whatever you need. Towels in the linen closet on the landing. Any questions?”

  Arkady had a quip about room service on the tip of his tongue, but swallowed it. Things were complicated enough for now, and Jason did look tired.

  “I’m good. Go, get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  After Jason had gone upstairs, Arkady busied himself with making his bed, listening to the sounds of steps upstairs, creaking doors and running water, until there was nothing but silence. He slipped under the blankets, but he wasn’t the least bit sleepy. Definitely jet-lagged. He was also alone and curious. Fuck courtesy—this might be the best opportunity he’d get to find out a little more about Jason Cooley. He got up and started opening cabinets, beginning with the one under the TV. Two shelves packed with DVDs were meticulously sorted into fitness videos, documentaries, movies. Half of them Arkady had never heard of, but he recognized the titles of certain action movies and . . . rom-coms. “I’ll be damned.” Arkady pulled out a copy of Moonstruck and looked up the stairs with a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Not the romantic kind, huh? You big fat liar, you’re so busted.”

  He didn’t find any books, just a handful of hunting magazines. Only one small drawer of CDs: some metal, some pop—Dido, Beyoncé, Jewel, one hard-rock Christmas mix. Not exactly an extensive collection, but then the guy didn’t spend much time away from work. He probably had music on his phone. Unless he didn’t listen to music. Was that even a thing?

  The kitchen cabinets were equally bare. Apart from scant cleaning paraphernalia under the sink, the cabinets harbored protein powder, a half-empty box of Cap’n Crunch, assorted dishes, a bag of oatmeal, and cutlery and gadgets in a couple of drawers.

  Arkady stood in the middle of the kitchen, nonplussed and slightly sad at the lack of anything that revealed passion, or joy, or personal connections. His gaze strayed to the door of the fridge and got stuck on the picture of the little girl. Except for that. She had Jason’s eyes, and his clear, penetrating gaze. Arkady hadn’t found any toys, but she most likely had a room upstairs for when she came to visit. A weekend-a-month arrangement? Jason had sounded like he was on good terms with his ex, so it seemed likely.

  Since he was already prowling, Arkady decided to have a look at the basement as well. The main room held a very decent gym, a washer/dryer combo, a shelf with tools next to the water heater. A door in the back led to the furnace. Everything tidy and reasonably clean. No secrets, no skeletons. If there was anything worthwhile left to be discovered about Cooley, it was either upstairs or nothing tangible.

  He woke to the soft gurgle of the coffee maker and the smell of fresh brew. The world beyond the windows was still pitch-black, the kitchen only illuminated by a weak light above the stove.

  Jason moved around the kitchen as silently as a ghost. From his position on the couch, Arkady only saw Jason’s head and shoulders above the breakfast bar. Bare, powerful shoulders that flexed and relaxed hypnotically as Jason ghosted to the fridge. He was briefly outlined against its light, then the fridge door closed with a soft thwack, and Arkady shook himself out of his trance. Jason’s movements suggested crutches, but how did that not make a noise?

  But then Jason crossed from the kitchen to the hallway, and Arkady realized that he’d used the counters like crutches, just as he was now using the banisters on either side of the stairs. And the things that was doing to his shoulder and back muscles left Arkady’s mouth dry. The fact that he was wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs didn’t help. Jason disappeared upstairs out of his line of sight before Arkady registered that he hadn’t been wearing a prosthesis, and that his left leg ended below the knee. The sound of a shower trickled down the stairs, and Arkady sat up. The glowing digits of a clock under the TV read 04:14. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

  With a groan he sank back down on his pillow, but the more he tried to ignore the susurration of running water, the more his bladder screamed for relief.

  The water stopped. Arkady sat up and pulled on his T-shirt. He waited for the clacking of the doors, bathroom, bedroom, before racing up the steps two at a time.

  The soft click of the door to his left on the upper landing barely registered in his brain before he barreled into a still water-beaded, hard chest. Jason’s hand shot out to the banister to steady himself, the other arm closed around Arkady to keep him from sprawling back down the stairs. Body heat, the smel
l of soap, two heartbeats thudding chest to chest. And a pair of hazel eyes so close that they were slightly out of focus. Noses almost touching, lips . . .

  Jason let him go and gave him space. Droplets ran down the poster child of a six-pack and into the top of a towel slung around a solid ass and hips. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you,” Jason rumbled. His voice almost an octave deeper than normal.

  “I need to—” Arkady started at the same time as Jason said, “Forgot my—”

  They both stopped, then Jason gestured at the bathroom door. “Go ahead.”

  With the closed door between them, Arkady was able to breathe again. He had to lean nearly horizontally over the toilet in order to relieve himself. Christ. He tried to remember if Jason had looked down, because that boner would have been embarrassingly obvious covered by nothing but briefs and a T-shirt. He was making a complete and utter fool of himself over a straight guy. A straight guy he was going to marry. Who insisted on pretending they were falling for each other. Arkady almost laughed. Was Jason ever in for a surprise at how well Arkady could act.

  He washed his hands and caught his own eyes in the mirror. Fuck. He was fucked. He spared a fond thought for the grizzled, shot-up vet image he’d had of Jason when Tasha had first told him of her plan, then braced himself to face his downfall.

  But when he opened the door, there was no sign of Jason.

  He went back to the living room to get dressed and fold up his bed things back into the couch.

  This time when Jason came downstairs, he was in a dark-gray uniform with a company logo on the shoulder and his name tag on his chest. Nothing in his gait even hinted at the fact that he was missing a leg. He swept one of his penetrating gazes across Arkady and the neatly made-up couch, then went into the kitchen. “There’s coffee if you want. Me. I can’t eat this early, but you’re welcome to whatever I have.”