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you, and I don’t want anything more than for you to unzip me. That zipper can be tricky.”
    Ben gripped the tab and pulled the tab down. Hell, it was long, traveling all the way down her back to the base of her spine and the uppermost curve of her bottom.
    His pulse slammed through his veins the lower he went and the more of her smooth, dark skin peeked through the opening spreading wider across her back. When his fingers reached the bottom of the zipper, his knuckles skimmed the curve of her ass, and the tattoo of a brightly-colored bird that appeared to be consumed by flames.
    A moan rose up his throat, and he swallowed hard to keep it from getting out. He pulled back his hand like he’d touched a hot iron.
    “Thank you.” Yasmin stepped away, clutching the front of the dress to her bosom. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to sleep on the sofa.”
    A shoulder lifted and dropped. “Slept on worse.”
    “Soon as I’m done in the shower, you can have it.” Yasmin nodded toward the door.
    He grunted. “By the way, I like the phoenix tattoo.” He kept his tone deadpan, while he fought to keep from smiling.
    She frowned. “You weren’t supposed to be looking.”
    He shrugged. “It’s second nature for a SEAL to notice everything.”
    “Well, just pretend you never saw it.”
    “Sorry, that’s not possible. Now that I know what’s there, I can’t unsee it, nor do I want to. The artist did a great job.” He opened the door and winked. “But, he had an excellent canvas to work on.” He ducked outside before the bar of soap she grabbed hit him in the head. The door closed in time for the soap to bounce off the wood panel.
    With a chuckle, he crossed through the bedroom to the living area. After wandering around casually, pretending to study the layout of the apartment while actually looking for more hidden cameras or well-placed listening devices, Ben ended up standing in front of the huge windows.
    The lights of London glowed brightly. From this location, he could see the Tower of London, the Tower Bridge, and the Big Ben clock on the north tower of the palace of Westminster. The River Thames reflected the city lights and the moon in its slow, steady path toward the sea.
    Ben would have loved visiting the city on vacation, hitting all of the tourist stops to learn more about the history of London and England. He struggled with looking at the serene city without thinking about what would happen if a deadly virus or disease spread across the world. All of the beautiful architecture of past centuries wouldn’t help keep the creators’ descendants alive. The only way to stop the threat was to nip it in the bud. Contain the weapons before they could be unleashed.
    “It’s all yours,” a voice said from across the room.
    Ben turned to find Yasmin dressed in a sheer, pale coral baby-doll nightgown and matching robe. The garment left little to the imagination. A hard swallow did nothing to move air past the constriction in his throat. No amount of breathing exercises would loosen the tightening in his groin. Damned woman.
    “What?” She rubbed her hand across her face. “Do I have something on my nose?”
    “No. Not at all.” He hurried past her, practically running through the bedroom to the bathroom beyond.
    Yasmin’s laughter followed him.
    Ben slammed the door and turned to find candles lighting the room, filling the air with the scent of flowers. Holy hell, what was she trying to do? Ben went around to each of the flickering flames and snuffed them out with a quick puff of air. Then he stripped out of his clothing, stepped into the walk-in shower and turned on the cold water, letting it run over his heated skin. One minute went by. Then two. Five passed, and he was still as hot as he’d been when he’d ducked beneath the spray. An image of Yasmin in that frilly nightgown had seared a permanent impression in his mind that refused to be washed away with cold water.
    Working around Yasmin would be