Table of Contents
Melting Ice
Copyright
Trademarks Acknowledgement
Dedication
PRAISE FOR AUTHOR
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
About the Author
Also Available
Thank you for purchasing this Wild Rose Press, Inc. publication.
Melting Ice
by
Nicole Austin
SEALs On Fire Series
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Melting Ice
COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Nicole Austin
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Diana Carlile
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com
Publishing History
First Scarlet Rose Edition, January 2013
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-768-7
Published in the United States of America
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author of this work of fiction
acknowledges the following trademarks:
Batman: DC Comics Warner Communications Inc.
iPhone: Apple Inc.
Jeep: Daimler Chrysler
Lifestyles of the Rich And Famous: TELEREP, Inc.
Popsicle: Lipton Investments, Inc.
Dedication
For Candy and Jackie. I miss you so much,
think of you every day and hope the two of you
are together, getting into trouble.
PRAISE FOR AUTHOR
Nicole Austin
AND HER BOOKS
“As always, Ms. Austin creates complex characters whose passion leaps of the pages.”
~Miranda, Joyfully Reviewed
“Ms. Austin stokes the flames of desire for her characters as well as her readers, and the inevitable explosion leaves everyone burning for more.”
~Lototy, Coffee Time Romance
Chapter One
ICE: Key West
As Syndra Banks read the brief text her body went haywire. Her pulse raced, chest grew tight, stomach flip-flopped and a wave of cold sweat raced from her head all the way down to her toes. But then Ice always had a profound physical and emotional effect on her.
First up was the inevitable rush of excitement, the thrill of knowing he was all right, had survived another dangerous mission, and wanted to see her. Then the anger and irritation set in. After not hearing from him for seven long months, he sent a text summoning her, assuming she’d drop everything and run to him. Then again, she always did.
She ached to do just that—see him, touch him, kiss him. Get naked with him.
He’d warned her from the beginning. Ice hadn’t sugar-coated anything. He’d been upfront, told her in that cold and concise way of his exactly what being with him meant, the sacrifices required. Very limited contact, little or no notice of when he’d be available to see her, no details of where he was or what he did.
“The only easy day was yesterday,” Ice had stated. The SEALs motto. “There’s nothing easy about loving a SEAL.”
Therein lay the problem. She’d done the most stupid thing imaginable, traveled straight down the road to heartbreak. Regardless of countless warnings issued by her head, Syn’s heart had gone and fallen ass-over-teakettle for a Navy frogman who went by the rather apropos call name of Ice. A sharpshooter who killed with cold precision.
And once again, Ice had managed to shoot her carefully orchestrated plans to hell, not with his rifle, but a few swift keystrokes.
A chirping sound alerted her to a new email message. An encrypted message that could only be opened with a special program Ice’s buddy remotely uploaded to her laptop. Top secret code the general public didn’t even know existed. Without opening the message, she knew it contained the address where he’d be staying while the team was on standby. Writing the information down was a big no-no. She’d have to memorize it quickly because within sixty seconds of opening the email there would be no trace of it left on her computer or any server. Same went for the text, which had already disappeared.
Syn closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “I can’t do this anymore,” she informed her laptop.
She had to end their pseudo relationship, make a clean break, sever all ties with the sexy, dangerous man she loved because he couldn’t be what she needed. No more endless days spent worrying, dying to be held in his arms, to hear his gruff voice whisper in her ear. Next month she’d be thirty-four, and her time for having babies was running out. She wanted a husband, a real family, a couple of kids and a dog. Things she’d never have with Ice. Not that she had any other candidates waiting in the wings. She refused to look before first ending it with him.
This meant Ice had once again turned her life upside down. She’d have to rearrange her schedule to go see him, make love one last time, then end it and get her life moving forward.
With a heavy sigh, Syn called out to her assistant, “Karen, reschedule the Miami shoot. Push everything back a week.”
“God dammit! That fucker’s timing is impeccable. He does this shit on purpose. I know he does.”
Karen did have a point. Ice going on standby did coincide with quite a few of her scheduled cover model shoots. He’d let her know in no uncertain terms how much he disliked her working for an erotic book publisher, snapping pictures of hot young guys in various states of undress. In turn, she’d made it clear that being with her a handful of days once or twice a year gave him no say in how she paid the bills. They’d agreed to disagree on the subject.
Surely the timing was coincidence. How could Ice possibly know her schedule or keep track of her while on deployment? Then again, he did have connections with some super scary techno types. A shudder raced through her as goose bumps rose on her skin and Syn cast a surreptitious gaze around the office. Did he have someone watching her?
Nah! She shook off the crazy idea.
Since their heated argument over work, she’d had several new clients contract her services out of the blue, keeping her schedule booked. A prestigious interior design firm, an exclusive private music school, and even a pet shelter. She chose not to dwell on the fact that the women who ran the businesses all had husbands, brothers, or fathers in the military. Another coincidence? She wasn’t sure she believed in things happening by chance.
Syn shook her head. There were too many odd occurrences piling up to discount. This had been the first opportunity she had in months to squeeze in time for the hunks, which was what pissed Karen off. Her assistant looked forward to flirting up the models. Karen’s continual muttered complaints, however, were getting on Syn’s last nerve.
“Can the bitching and make it happen.”
“Seriously? I don’t get how some terrifying terrorist hasn’t managed to slit the jerk’s throat yet.”
Syn tried to ignore Karen’s all too familiar grumblings. Her childhood friend-turned-assistant had never met Ice but held a huge grudge over his uncanny ability to turn their schedule, along with Syn’s heart, upside down.
“Do you have any idea how hard
it is to change dates on city permits? Dealing with bureaucratic red tape is so not part of a fluffer’s job description?”
Covering her laughter with a cough, Syn debated the idiocy of having hired her snarky friend when the workload had become overwhelming. Interacting with the handsome steroid-laden models had thrust Karen’s hormones into overdrive. She lived for each and every chance to get close to them. Good thing she’d never met the gorgeous men of SEAL team Arapahoe. Poor girl would be blown away. Syn hardly managed to form a coherent sentence when surrounded by the whole team and chalked it up to an overdose of testosterone short-circuiting her brain.
“Give it a rest already. For the final time, I am not shooting porn and misting the models with water does not make you a fluffer.” She bit back a smile, refusing to reveal her amusement.
“Does too,” Karen stubbornly insisted under her breath. “I so totally fluff those studs up. And as if you are such a high and mighty professional. Ha! You shoot people for a living then take them into dark rooms and blow them up.”
Rather similar to Ice’s job.
Okay, that one was too funny to hold back her laughter. “I’m not paying you to provide comedic relief. Get to work.”
Karen might complain while doing it, but she’d efficiently get the job done. Syn ignored the rest of her friend’s ranting and instead focused on how she wanted to handle the situation with Ice. Picking up her iPhone, she entered the passcode, tapped the screen a few times, and soon stared into his breathtaking blue eyes.
He had no idea she’d snapped the candid picture, yet another no-no when it came to Ice. The man had serious issues about having his picture taken. Syn hadn’t been able to resist the urge to capture the somewhat grainy contraband image she cherished above her perfect studio photos. She’d caught a rare unguarded moment in time. His rough-hewn features were relaxed, harsh angles softened by a few days beard growth, sensual lips curled with the slightest hint of a smile. His heavy-lidded eyes were free of the shadows often clouding over the blue and were instead filled with intense hunger as he casually observed her.
Gazing at the picture had gotten her through many long, lonely nights and gave her the sense of connecting with him when thousands of miles separated them. Silly, but the photo was her personal crack, an addiction she refused to give up. There was no twelve-step program for getting over Ice.
Being with him in person, looking into his calm, cool eyes, and saying the words to end their eight year relationship was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever done.
****
Watching the antics of idiot civilians dressed-to-entice as they vied for notice in the noisy and crowded bar briefly amused Master Chief Sam Westervelt, but nothing distracted his attention from each new person entering the door. The team had arrived in Key West only a few hours ago and already everyone was out letting off some steam. While he appeared relaxed, if somewhat detached from the Friday night debauchery surrounding him, he was ever aware and alert. That’s how he got his code name—Ice.
Hell, even in a bar he limited his exposure, positioning himself where he had a clear view of his surroundings. He knew the placement of every window and door with predetermined escape routes should anything go down. Off duty and his hands still itched for the weight and shape of his rifle as he mentally picked out the choice vantage points, calculating distances and angles of trajectory. Had he been outside, he’d have estimated the wind speed and factored it into the process.
So without turning his head, Ice knew the moment she walked through the door. He sensed the distance closing between them, judging the remaining space by the increasing strength of the tingling in his spine. They’d been apart for months, yet his awareness of her was instant and complete, crackling in the very air. While inside his head every instinct screamed for him to take action, outwardly he remained a placid, unreadable surface.
He hadn’t been sure she’d come. Not after witnessing the pain piercing her expressive green eyes the last time they got together and the team got recalled less than twenty-four hours later. She hated his lifestyle, the endless months alone not knowing if he was dead or alive. He couldn’t blame her. Being with a SEAL was not an easy life.
The team all knew Syn and catching sight of her, Jagger tipped his beer slightly in Ice’s direction in a silent show of support. He shared a close bond with all his brothers, none more so than Jagger, the only other soul who knew what Syn’s arrival did to him. Inside, he trembled with the unadulterated joy of a five year old with a bright balloon on a string in one hand and an all-day sucker in the other.
She moved with innate sexual grace, her curvy body gliding along the path that opened up before her, thick waves of mahogany hair swaying around her face and cascading over those lush breasts. Every man in the room was aware of Syn walking by, casting appreciative glances her way and mourning the lack of attention they got in return as her gaze never deviated from a single-minded focus point.
Trip muttered, “Lucky bastard.”
Ice agreed. He was one hell of a lucky bastard. If things went his way, before long he would have everything he’d ever wanted. He just had to toe the line a little longer.
Swiveling on his barstool, Ice almost swallowed his tongue when he got a good look at her. Most of the women in the place wore thin stretchy material that barely covered their asses and left half their breasts exposed. In contrast, Syn’s dress covered from shoulder to just above the knee, leaving only her tanned arms and lower legs bare.
Oh, what a dress. It consisted of an ivory sheath covered by yarn sewn in intricate patterns. He remembered his grandmother using hooks to make circles she put on tables and stuff. Um…it might be called crochet, but he could be wrong. Not that the name mattered when the ivory material demurely draped Syn’s voluptuous body. The dress accentuated her curves and hinted at all the magnificent treasures he’d find as he slowly slid it over her soft skin.
His girl didn’t need torturous high heels to show off those mile-long legs either. She wore sexy, strappy flat sandals, no jewelry, and minimal makeup. The result was a relaxed and natural beauty that heated his blood and had saliva pooling in his mouth.
“Ice,” she acknowledged in a chilly tone. Her gaze swept over the few Arapahoe team members in the bar, nodding a curt greeting to each man.
Uh oh. Was she still mad over their disagreement about the male bimbo cover models with the fake steroid muscles? Or was something else bothering his normally sweet-tempered girl?
Only time would tell. Syn didn’t give up her secrets easily or quickly.
He stood, offered her the stool, his gut tightening as the hem of her dress drifted higher on her thighs when she crossed her legs. Damn, he wanted to leave now. Right now.
To hell with social niceties, he wanted to take Syn someplace private and spend the night wrapped around her closer than the sultry dress. Wring a dozen orgasms out of her until her voice turned raspy from crying out in pleasure. Wrap his fingers in that thick, dark hair and pull her head back, bearing her neck to his mouth. Slam into her tight, wet pussy from behind, each punishing thrust of his hips cushioned by her full, heart-shaped ass.
She probably wouldn’t be happy if he simply picked her up, put her over his shoulder, and made a beeline for the door. But he’d sure be happy. A lot happier than he was at the moment since he had no idea what to say. Not that he ever said much.
“How’s work?” Lame. “And that nympho assistant of yours?” Oh yeah, smooth. Really smooth.
Syn arched her brow, and a slight smile teased the corners of her sweet lips. “Karen’s fine. Sends her love. Says she hopes a terrorist shoots your balls off.”
A growl rumbled through his chest and vibrated low in his throat. He knew they were friends—didn’t understand why—but one of these days… Perhaps his recent training in interrogation techniques would be useful after all. Ice wisely kept quiet the homicidal thoughts of all the ways he’d enjoy torturing the annoying woman. Karen was fiercely loyal and
protective of Syn, earning his grudging acceptance.
“You want a drink, Syn,” Jagger asked, making Ice roll his eyes. He’d been trained to be still, silent, stealthy and lethal. Charming people wasn’t in his nature or skill set.
“No thanks, Jagger.”
“How about a dance, beautiful?” Trip recanted and held up his hands in surrender when Ice’s hard stare locked on the idiot. “Umm…maybe another time.”
Syn swiveled on the stool, her legs brushing his thighs as she placed a hand on his arm and tugged until he leaned closer. “Can we get out of here,” she whispered as if reading his mind.
Visions danced in his head of taking her to the luxury waterfront estate a movie star friend of Dagger’s let them borrow. All the blood left his upper body as he pictured stretching out over top of Syn on the massive four-poster bed in his room.
Or better yet, he’d love to get her naked in the glass and marble enclosed shower with hot water pouring over her satiny skin from the eight showerheads. Soap up his hands and glide them over all those seductive hills and valleys. Pin her to the wall, wrap her long legs around his hips, and fuck until he couldn’t stand upright anymore.
And the spectacular pool. He wanted to take her for a moonlight swim in the cool waters of the free-form pool that curved around behind the house. Then they could stroke their way to the dark, private grotto for a dip in the hot tub.
Fuck yeah!
Syn’s hand flexed, fingers tightening on his arm. “We need to talk.”
All calm, cool, and collected, she uttered the four simple yet most powerful words in the English language. Words capable of striking fear in the heart of the fiercest male warrior. He suddenly felt like an awkward fourteen-year-old on the first day at a new school. His balls shriveled and his dick deflated. Ice heard an engine sputter then the heavy whining descent of a plane going into a death roll, plummeting straight for the ground, followed by an Earth-jarring impact as his arousal crashed and burned on the beach. Hell, he hadn’t even worked his way up to imagining having sex on the beach before she’d shot him down in flames.
Melting Ice (SEALs On Fire) Page 1
