Free Blue Skies by Adrianne Byrd Page B

“Serious” Garrett’s angelic face continued to smile from across the room. He’d always considered her a natural beauty, but he definitely had a soft spot for this pussycat version.
    He reached for his drink again.
    “I thought you were going over,” Weasel chuckled.
    Jett shot him an evil glare.
    One of the women in their circle brushed her body against Jett and cooed in his ear. “There’s nothing over there that you can get right here.”
    His gaze swept over the provocative woman, but she no longer looked as alluring as when he first offered to buy her a drink. Her makeup was too thick—her eyes too hard. Jett smiled but his eyes glanced across the room again against his will.
    The humiliation he’d endure the last few days still held a bitter taste in his mouth, but he was more than disturbed about the attention Sydney drew as time ticked along. In five minutes, she looked as if she was holding her court with fools and jesters trying to get as close as possible.
    Finally, he shook his head and then drained the rest of his drink. “I knew she was nothing but a big tease.”
    “Yeah,” Weasel agreed—also ignoring the bevy of beauties surrounding them.
    Jett flashed him another narrowed glare.
    “What?” Weasel shrugged. “I’m in the pool, too.”
    The pool. How could he have forgotten about that damn thing?
    Jett’s arm candy grew impatient. “How about we head out the dance floor and you can watch me drop it like it’s hot?”
    It was on the tip of Jett’s tongue to refuse the offer when he suddenly came back to his senses. Sydney was not the girl for him. She was the competition. He smiled at the woman on his arm and stood from his chair. “Let’s see what you got.”
     
     
    Sydney wanted to head back to the base. Just as she suspected she stuck out like a sore thumb and she was growing tired of warding off offers to dance and apparently the only real sin in Las Vegas was not drinking alcohol.
    “You got a boyfriend?” the latest nameless jock inquired, leaning close—a little too close—in Sydney’s personal space. At least he was cute...in a Boris Kodjoe way.
    She hitched one shoulder and pretended that she wasn’t flattered by all the attention she was getting. In truth, her ego couldn’t get much bigger. One thing for sure, it was a stark contrast to her Academy days.
    However, whatever flattery she felt vanished when her new hunk gave Bobby “Octopus Arms” Blalock a run for his title. Every time she peeled a hand from a breast, hip, and once her butt there seemed to three more strategically placed somewhere else.
    After ten minutes of this foolishness, Sydney was at the end of her rope.
    “C’mon,” the man cooed, clamping a firm hand on her breast again. “Don’t you know whatever happens in Las Vegas stays in Las Vegas?” The jerk had back her into a corner.
    Maj. Maxwell’s warning rang in Sydney’s head while she tried, this time unsuccessfully, to remove his hand. “I’m a high-stakes roller. Anything you want I can get. In fact, why don’t we go to my suite where we can have some real fun?” the man said.
    “I don’t think so.” She shoved at his chest, but apparently he thought she was playing hard to get.
    “C’mon. You didn’t come dressed like that just to hold up the wall.”
    The comment delivered a sharp blow to Sydney’s pride. “What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?” The ridiculousness of her question struck her the moment the words were out of her mouth.
    He erased what little distance remained between them. Meanwhile, the man’s stubborn hand gave a painful squeeze to her breast. “I can’t believe a woman as beautiful as you don’t have an official fan club.”
    That’s it. It’s time to take him down.
    “She does.” A surprising, but unmistakable baritone spoke from behind them. “I’m the president.”
    Sydney jumped and swiveled around to Jett’s handsome features glaring down at the man at her side.
    “I think you