Hot SEAL, Bachelor Party: A Brotherhood Protectors Crossover Novel (SEALs in Paradise)

by Elle James

  “I won’t press charges, if you promise to leave McP’s and the surrounding parking lot immediately,” Jacob said. “If you don’t, I’ll go with this nice police officer and you to the station and file a complaint. That should keep you tied up through the rest of the evening and into tomorrow. For that matter, I might do that anyway to be sure you’ll miss the wedding on Saturday.”

  Her forehead wrinkled, and her eyes narrowed to slits.

  Jacob could practically see the cogs of her brain churning as she mulled over her options.

  “Fine,” she finally said. “I’ll leave.” She looked past Jacob to where Hawk stood with his friends. “But this isn’t over. I will never give up on you. We have something. I know it. You couldn’t have made love like you did and just walk away.”

  “That was months ago. Before I met my fiancée. And I’d had too much alcohol. I don’t even remember it, other than the fact you followed me around for weeks.”

  “I only followed you to tell you that I love you and want to be with you.” Her eyes filled with tears. “We had a connection.”

  “No,” he said. “We didn’t because I didn’t.” Hawk shook his head. “Give it up, Camila. I’m not the one for you.”

  “Come on.” The cop gripped her arm and guided her toward the exit.

  No sooner had she left through the front entrance than the rear door burst open, and a huge fake wedding cake rolled onto the patio to the lyrics of Pour Some Sugar on Me.

  A roar of approval came from the guys, and they clapped in time to the music.

  “All right,” C-Note yelled. “Bring on the stripper!”

  “Yeah, baby,” Ringer shouted. “About time we got some action.”

  “I call dibs on the first lap dance,” Viking called out.

  With Camila out of their hair, Jacob focused his attention on the entertainment, wary but ready to relax a little. He waited for the woman to pop out of the cake.

  And waited…

  Two minutes into the song, the stripper still hadn’t come through.

  The men chanted, “Come out! Come out!”

  Jacob frowned. When the stripper still hadn’t made it out, he started toward the cake, concerned that she had suffered a fall, suffocated or injured herself and bled out. About the time he reached the cake, the stripper punched a hole in the top with a tight fist and widened the hole before she stood, wearing a white hat like the Navy SEALs wore when they were in their full, dress whites. She had long blond hair, and her face was covered in a thick layer of makeup, her eyes surrounded by blue and pink eyeshadow and thick, fake lashes. Her lips were a bright red. Some of the lipstick had smeared on her rise through the top of the cake, and her blond hair was slightly cockeyed.

  She pulled the hair back in place and smiled. “Hey, boys! I’m Candy.” Then she reached back inside the cake with one hand and fumbled with something. The other hand followed while the music blared on. Her smile morphed into a concentrated scowl as she worked on whatever was inside the cake that wasn’t working according to plan.

  Finally, she looked up, caught his glance and gave a crooked grin. Something about her face was familiar, even with all the makeup covering her skin and eyelids. “I can’t get out,” she said quietly, where only he could hear. “The door is jammed.”

  “Can you get up to the top of the cake?” Jacob asked.

  She frowned and braced her hands on the rim of the top layer. “I think so.” Pulling herself up, she sat her bottom on the edge. “Now, what?”

  Jacob studied the contraption. “Climb down the layers like a staircase.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible. It’s a wire frame covered in papier mâché.”

  “Can you reach my shoulders?” Jacob asked.

  Candy bit her bottom lip, smearing red lipstick across her teeth. “Maybe.”

  Jacob leaned as close to the cake as he could.

  The stripper laid her hands on his shoulder. “I’m losing balance,” she said, her body tipping toward him.

  As she fell toward him, he caught her around her waist and swung her out of the cake. Her momentum sent him stumbling backward. Jacob struggled to keep his feet under him but couldn’t. Falling backward, he let go of her waist, but not in time to brace for impact. He crashed to the floor, landing flat on his back. If the impact with the floor hadn’t knocked the air from his lungs, the stripper landing on top of him finished the job.

  He lay still for a moment, unable to draw in a breath.

  The guys roared with laughter, not realizing he couldn’t breathe, and were absolutely no help. Their attention was riveted to the woman splayed across his body, pushing to a sitting position, straddling his waist, her bottom connecting with his groin.

  The song ended, and the next one that played was Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy.

  “Ride him, baby,” Hawk called out.

  “That’s right. Save a horse, ride a cowboy,” Ringer said.

  “Lucky bastard,” Viking groused.

  “That should be me,” Cowboy said.

  The woman on top of him struggled to keep upright. When she saw that the men were watching, she looked around, her eyes wide. A moment later, she rocked her hips and raised her hand like a bronc rider.

  One of the men recovered her hat and slipped it into her hand. She held it high and rode Jacob in time to the beat of the music.

  Finally able to catch his breath, Jacob started to sit up.

  A firm hand on his chest pushed him back to the ground. “Take one for the team,” Candy said. “It’s you or the groom, and I have strict instructions not to touch the groom.”

  Lying back on the floor, he played along. Since she was already in position to entertain, it might as well be him. The others would get too rowdy and demand lap dances of their own.

  As she rocked over his crotch, another problem arose, making him more aware and uncomfortable with each move. He gritted his teeth in an effort to keep from embarrassing himself in front of his buddies. He feared that would be an impossibility. When the stripper got up, it would obvious to his friends how he felt about being ridden.

  Candy clutched his shirt like the rope around a bronc and leaned back. “Am I hurting you, big boy?”

  “No,” he said through clenched teeth when in fact she was hurting him a lot. The effort to contain his arousal was becoming more painful by the moment. At this rate, he’d go back to his hotel room blue-balled.

  “Hey, save some of that for the rest of us,” Tuck said and waved a five-dollar bill at the woman. “And I’ve got more where this came from.”

  Ringer yanked a twenty out of his wallet and held it up triumphantly. “Don’t go for the small stuff. Mine’s bigger.”

  C-Note snorted and pulled a one-hundred-dollar bill out of his pocket. “Skip the kids. What you need is a real man.”

  The song ended, the stripper rose to her feet, and reached out a hand to Jacob.

  He ignored it, rolled to his side and jumped up, afraid his reaction to the “ride” would set off a round of razzing from his friends.

  Thankfully, their attention was fully glued to Candy. The next song started, and the men all clapped in time to I Kissed A Girl.

  Candy swayed back and forth, snapping her fingers.

  “Dance,” Tuck encouraged.

  “Show us what you’ve got,” Ringer said.

  “Whatcha hiding beneath that shirt?” Cowboy asked.

  Viking gripped her around the waist and lifted her to the top of the table. “There. Now we can see you.”

  Jacob started forward, ready to defend the stripper from the men getting too familiar with her.

  Viking stepped back and smiled. “Go ahead. Dance.”

  Candy swayed, got her balance and stepped side to side. Sadly, she wasn’t that good at dancing. Not like the usual strippers.

  Again, something about her niggled at the back of Jacob’s mind. He felt like he knew her. But the name Candy wasn’t ringing a bell. He studied her as she moved from side
to side, rocking her hips back and forth. It wasn’t the hips or the dancing he remembered.

  His gaze traveled up her body.

  Nor was it the narrow waist and swell of her breasts.

  He took in her hair and face.

  The blond hair wasn’t right and kept slipping sideways a bit, like a wig. If she wasn’t a blond, what color was her hair?

  “You’re a stripper,” Ringer said. “Take it off.”

  “Yeah, take it off,” Tuck echoed.

  Candy’s hands went to the knot of her shirt at her midriff, fumbling to untie it. When she finally had it loose, she shrugged out of the shirt, swung it over her head and tossed it at C-Note.

  The men whooped and laughed when it landed on the man’s head.

  C-Note pulled it down to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Oh, yeah. One hundred percent female.” He stuffed the shirt in his pocket and clapped his hands. “More!”

  “More!” the others repeated.

  Candy’s moss green eyes narrowed.

  In that moment, it came to him. Candy was the little wedding planner he’d met earlier. Jacob straightened. What the hell was she doing as a stripper?

  Chapter 3

  Casey had never in her life performed in front of a crowd, had never worn a bikini at the beach, and had never had so many men staring at her like wolves ready for their next meal. It was at once terrifying and exhilarating.

  Her body was on fire from her ride on the poor man who’d helped her out of the cake. And, if she wasn’t mistaken, he was just as affected as she was. Her gaze went to the hard ridge behind the fly of his jeans.

  Heat traveled up her neck into her cheeks.

  Oh, yeah. She’d gotten him that far, all by pretending to ride him like a horse. Or, as the song went, a cowboy. Now that she was on a table in front of them, she was at her most vulnerable. She’d never been a good dancer. Dressed as a stripper, she would be expected to bump and grind with overly exaggerated hip movements and, maybe, touching her toes to give them a view of her rounded bottom. Hell, she didn’t have the body to pull this off. Her hips were too broad, and her thighs touched. Not to mention, her breasts were overflowing the tiny white bathing suit bra she’d worn beneath the midriff shirt.

  Casey twitched her hips back and forth the way she thought strippers would. Gripping the Velcro tabs on the sides of her shorts, she hesitated. Beneath the shorts was nothing more than a G-string up the crease of her butt cheeks with a tiny triangle of material covering her front.

  She dropped her hands to her sides and shook her head. No. She couldn’t do it.

  “Take it off!” the men yelled as one.

  She caught Jacob’s stare.

  He shook his head. “Don’t do it, Candy,” he said softly.

  The guys didn’t seem to hear him.

  One started the chant, “Take it off!” The others joined in. “Take it off!”

  She was supposed to be a stripper. In order to do it right, she had to take it off.

  Again, Jacob shook his head.

  Casey’s eyes narrowed. Did he think she wouldn’t, just because he’d told her not to?

  Her gaze swept the small crowd of rowdy men, smiling, laughing and nudging each other with their elbows to get closer to her and the table she danced on. What did she have to lose? They thought she was the blond-haired stripper named Candy. When they saw her the next day, she’d be back to her usual brown-haired, neatly prim and proper wedding planner, Casey. The two women were so diametrically opposed, they’d never guess. Her fingers found the tabs. Her gaze met Jacob’s, and she yanked the shorts off her hips and swung them around her head. Aiming for him, she let loose.

  Jacob’s hand shot up into the air and caught the shorts in his fist.

  Casey lifted her chin, swallowing her pride and turned her back to him and the men, showing her ass in the G-string. Then she bent to touch her toes giving them what they’d come for and thanking her lucky stars that she’d chosen that morning to shave her legs all the way up to her hoo-hah.

  Fingers touched her bottom as bills were tucked into her G-string, startling her into straightening too fast. Unsteady as she was on the platform heels, she wobbled, teetered and tumbled toward the ground.

  Arms reached out to catch her. She fell hard against a black T-shirt, her face smashed into a rock-hard chest. When she glanced up to see who’d caught her, she was glad to see it was her cake rescuer, Jacob.

  Changing her voice to sound like a Candy, she said, “My hero.” She batted her heavily lashed eyelids.

  Jacob stared down into her eyes. “Those shoes are killers.”

  She gave him what she hoped was a coquettish smile. “You like them?”

  “No.” His gaze shifted from her eyes to the other side of the patio in the direction of the bar and the front entrance. His brow furrowed. “Damn.” He set her on her feet. “Gotta go. I’m sure the guys will take good care of you.” He hurried past her, breaking into a jog.

  Casey looked from Jacob to the men and back. Without him to catch her when she fell, she felt exposed and vulnerable. When the men started toward her with money in their hands, Casey turned and ran after Jacob.

  “Hey, babe,” Ringer called out. “Where ya going?”

  “Don’t leave yet.” C-Note waved his one-hundred-dollar bill. “I got money burning in my hand.”

  Casey called over her shoulder. “Keep it.” She ran after Jacob and caught his arm. “Did I offend you?”

  He looked down briefly. “No, but the groom is leaving. I’m his designated driver.”

  Her eyes rounded. “Of course. Go.” Then she frowned. “Wait. How much have you had to drink?”

  “One beer,” he said, still moving and picking up speed.

  She shook her head and ran faster, the heels making it more difficult. “I’ll drive.”

  “No way,” Jacob said over his shoulder.

  “I was paid to make sure the groom got back to his hotel safely,” she said. “Give me a minute to get dressed, and I’ll drive you two in my vehicle.”

  “I haven’t had enough to impair my driving.”

  She met his gaze, her eyes narrowing. “I’m driving.” Casey hurried ahead to catch up with Hawk as he waved down a taxi pulling up to the curb.

  “Hawk,” Casey called out. “Wait. I’ll drive you to the hotel.”

  With his hand on the open door of the taxi, Hawk paused and glanced over his shoulder, his brow furrowing when he saw her running toward him.

  Casey leaned into the open passenger window of the cab and handed the driver one of the twenties she’d plucked from her G-string. “I’ve got this. Go get a burger.”

  The taxi driver grinned, his gaze going straight to her cleavage. “I might just stay for the show.”

  She gave him one of her eat-shit-and-die glares and jerked her thumb. “Get going.”

  Hawk backed away a step, swaying slightly. “I might have had a few too many, but I’m not too drunk to know that I’m not getting into any vehicle with you. I promised Kalea I wouldn’t touch the stripper. I’m keeping that promise.”

  “Glad to hear it. She’ll be impressed.” Casey pulled her key fob out of her bra and clicked the unlock button on her SUV. “I’m driving. You can sit in the back seat. If you’re worried Kalea will find out, you can tell her I’m going to the hotel with this guy.” She tilted her head toward Jacob.

  “Is that so?” Hawk’s lips spread into a wide grin, and he clapped a hand onto Jacob’s shoulder. “Good for you, man. I didn’t think you were going to let me out of your sight long enough to enjoy the evening.”

  “And I’m not going to let you out of my sight until you’re tucked into your own bed in your hotel room,” Jacob said.

  Thankfully, he didn’t deny Casey’s claim that he was taking her back to his hotel room. “I’m driving,” she said. “My SUV is over there.”

  “I have my own vehicle.”

  “Play it safe. Even if you haven’t had much to drink, I’d rathe
r you didn’t end up in jail when you have a wedding to attend on Saturday.” She drew in a breath and let it out. “Casey tasked me with making sure the groom and groomsmen got back to the hotel to sleep off whatever mischief they might have gotten into. Please, let me do my job.” Again, she tried batting her lashes, a skill she’d never quite mastered. Something big and wispy fell into her eye, making her blink uncontrollably.

  Jacob reached out and plucked the offensive item from her cheek. He lifted her hand and laid one of her fake eyelashes in her palm. “You can drive after you remove the other one.”

  She stared down at her lash, her cheeks burning. Then with a quick movement, she ripped the other lash off, wincing when the glue held on a little longer than she expected. “There,” she said and lifted her chin toward Jacob.

  “That’s better.” He nodded toward the SUV. “Lead the way. And oh,” he held out the shorts she’d flung at him, “you might want to put this on. If we are pulled over, we wouldn’t want our driver charged with indecent exposure.”

  She grabbed the shorts and covered her naked butt with them, pinching the Velcro into place. “Now, can we go?”

  Jacob glanced at Hawk. “You all right with letting Candy drive?”

  “As long as she’s better at driving than she is at dancing,” Hawk said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” Casey said. “Follow me.”

  “Gladly,” Hawk said.

  Jacob frowned.

  “What?” Hawk held up his hand. “Kalea said I couldn’t touch. She didn’t say anything about looking.”

  Casey shook her head and marched as best she could in the platform heels to her SUV. She removed the shoes before climbing in behind the steering wheel. No use risking a wreck because she wasn’t wearing the proper foot gear. Thankfully, she’d stored all her clothes in the trunk and wouldn’t have to return to the bar to get anything. She was afraid that if she left the two men alone, they’d leave without her. She wanted to make absolutely sure the groom made it to his hotel room okay before she let him out of her sight. Her promise to the bride, her best friend, hinged on her making this wedding perfect.