by Tawny Weber
He frowned, realizing that it’d been over fourteen months since he’d last had boots on the ground on a mission. And that was way too long. It was time to get back to basics.
That’d help him reconnect to his roots, and help shore up any flagging morale among the team. They’d up their training, too. Time to intensify a few things, including their skills in cryptology.
Lansky was his best tech guy, but the rest of the team needed to up their expertise. Poseidon operated under the belief that every man should be able to do every job, no matter what his rating. So they’d all bone up on their computer skills.
Torres, Rengel and Powers had the most training in intelligence. Given the investigation, it was unlikely that anyone in the intelligence community would offer the rest of the team training. But Nic could tap those three to give the rest of them a refresher.
Except he didn’t have three, he reminded himself as his heart gave a heavy thud in chest. He was down to two. Just as the team was down to eleven.
Because they’d lost Powers.
Rubbing his hand over his suddenly aching eyes, Nic tried to push aside the emotion. The minute he returned to duty, the team was embarking on the biggest mission of their careers. The one to save their reputations and take down a covert enemy. He couldn’t lead that mission if he was wallowing in grief.
And maybe a few of them should take some additional law courses. Louden, for sure, maybe Danby and Prescott, too. They had the analytical skill set to see the nuances that could help if this all went south.
Trouble was coming.
Trouble that could take down the team. That could destroy a decade of hard work. It’d damage the reputations of good men who’d devoted their lives to their country. If they failed, a treasonous mastermind would continue undeterred in their destruction of everything men like Nic and his team fought to protect.
Which meant they couldn’t lose.
He never lost.
With one last glance at the moon riding over the sea, Nic rubbed his hand over his vacation goatee and headed back inside.
Damn.
Looked like he had the beginning of a solid battle plan.
As usual, Cree was right. All Nic needed was a little time, a little distance, and he’d get his head together. He’d use the rest of this week to map out his strategy, to think through the steps and to consider every obstacle and counterstrategy.
As Nic crossed to the bed, he noted the woman sprawled over his sheets. Her dark hair spiked around her face, the sharp angles softened in sleep. The sapphire comforter covered but didn’t disguise her petite curves, her lush breasts rising temptingly over the crisp linen. Even as his body stirred, he wondered how much credit she deserved for his mental breakthrough.
A gorgeous woman, intriguing conversation and the hottest sex he’d ever had in his life. Yeah, that might be the perfect combination for a sweet breakthrough.
Which meant he’d need to put all of his energies this week into ensuring it happened again and again. And again.
Nic grinned, wondering if someday he’d look back and credit sex with Darby as a key turning point in saving his career. He slid back between the sheets, wrapping himself around her soft warmth. As she curled into him, her scent surrounding him like a sensual fog, he finally felt sleep beckon.
Before he drifted off, he thought of what was at stake. Of the years of work, of focus and, dammit, yes, of brilliance that’d made Poseidon the best. The god of the sea.
He’d be damned if anything was going to tear that down. As long as one man was still devoted to Team Poseidon, Nic knew he’d be right there, leading the charge.
CHAPTER FOUR
DARBY FELT AS if she’d dropped into some sort of alternate universe. The kind where mornings started with alcohol-infused frozen drinks, fresh fruit and malasadas.
Where breakfast was served on the patio of a cozy bungalow overlooking the ocean, with the sun already warming her skin, which was bare but for a vivid purple bikini and a wrap in the bleeding colors of sunset.
Where her body still buzzed from a night of amazing sex, aching in places she hadn’t realized could ache. Her thighs still quivered whenever she moved her legs, inciting a tingling sort of heat.
“You okay?”
“Of course,” Darby said, her smile fluttering. “Just enjoying breakfast.”
And the view.
Although she didn’t mean the white sands and blue water, although they were stunning in the morning light. Nope, what fascinated her was the gorgeous man sitting across the table.
His hypnotic eyes were shielded by dark sunglasses, and the sun glinted off the inky black of his hair, casting a gilded glow over the sharp angles of his cheekbones. Like her, he was dressed for swimming in navy trunks and a matching T-shirt that molded itself over tempting muscles.
Muscles she’d explored, enjoyed, embraced over and over last night. Biceps almost as thick as her thigh and ripped shoulders broad enough to hold on to no matter how wild the ride. And his skin. Hot silk over rigid strength.
Grabbing her frozen breakfast cocktail, Darby sucked up a long drink of juice to wet her suddenly dry mouth. But the icy drink did nothing to cool the fire in her belly. Her body still tingled from the remnants of their shower sex-induced orgasms, and all she wanted was to go again.
How could she be this obsessed?
She’d only known the man for twelve hours.
It was just sex, she assured herself. Desire.
That wasn’t anything to worry about.
“Another malasada?”
“I should say no,” Darby said even as she reached for another sugar-coated ball of fried dough. “But I can’t. These are delicious. Better than any donut holes I’ve had before.”
“They’re my favorites,” Dominic admitted, studying one before popping it into his mouth. “When I was a kid, Avo Celia used to make malasadas whenever I’d visit because she knew I loved them. Just like this, covered in cinnamon sugar. My uncle gave the chef his mom’s recipe, so it’s always a little bit of nostalgia when I’m here.”
“It must be great to have that sort of family tradition,” she said, liking how his face softened as he talked about them.
What was that like, having a treat-making grandmother? Darby’s mom’s parents had died before she was born, and her dad’s hadn’t had much interest in their son, let alone his progeny. Both were only children, which meant there hadn’t been any aunts or uncles to fill that family role. No family, no family treats. Something Darby had never regretted until just now. Because, damn, it would have been amazing to grow up with a family tradition of delicious fried dough balls.
“Did you have a favorite meal growing up? You know, like a birthday dinner or holiday brunch?” Dominic asked, looking like he actually cared.
The idea sent a thrill of delight through her, making Darby wish she could say yes.
“I forgot about my last birthday until it was two days passed,” Darby admitted with a self-deprecating sort of laugh. “But when I remembered, I hit Starbucks for an iced smoked butterscotch latte. It wasn’t a tradition but it was damn good.”
“You forgot about your birthday? As in, you were so deep in work that you didn’t realize what day it was and skipped right by it?” Dominic popped a slice of mango into his mouth and shook his head. “I’ve been away, on...on jobs, traveling, that kind of thing, on my birthday, but I always make damn sure I at least knock back a Scotch to toast another year.”
“Every year?” Not sure why that impressed her, Darby ran her fingers through her still-damp-from-the-shower hair, widening her eyes as it fell in spikes around her face. “Do you do that blowing-out-the-candle thing, too?”
“You’re telling me you don’t even blow out candles?”
“So?” The look on his face made
Darby want to squirm. “My family was never big on the whole party or candles thing. I think the last time was maybe my seventeenth birthday when my brother got me a cupcake.”
“A single cupcake?”
“The frosting had a flower on it,” Darby said, wondering why she felt the need to apologize.
“And the rest of your family?”
“I don’t have much of a family. No aunts or uncles, my grandparents died before I was born.” She rolled the remaining malasada around on her plate. No delicious family recipes handed down, no real traditions. She dusted the sugar from her fingers and shrugged. “My parents divorced when I was five, then my dad died. So mostly it was just my mom, brother and I.”
“Were you close?”
“No.”
Sure, her mom and brother had been close. So close that her mom hadn’t had much room—or need—for her. But with five years between her and Danny, he’d had his own life. His own interests. Still, he’d cared enough to make a fuss about her birthday once. But he’d left her. He’d joined the Navy, decided he had something stupid to prove. And died.
Her mouth trembled as she tried to keep her smile in place. Not because she was upset or hurting. Hell, no. She’d spent almost a decade teaching herself not to wallow in grief. But she’d forgotten how nice it’d always been when Danny fussed about her birthday.
“Seriously.” Darby shrugged off the dragging sadness and returned to their earlier topic. “Don’t you think candles are on par with kids beating on piñatas or scary clowns making balloon dogs?”
“I think every year we mark off should be noted in a special way. You think we should stop celebrating life when we hit a certain age?”
“You make it sound as if you like getting older.”
“Don’t you think it beats the hell out of the alternative?” Dominic considered another malasada, rolling it between his fingers a few times before tossing it into his mouth. “I like to think that someday, I’ll be blowing out eighty or ninety candles on a big ol’ cake covered in chocolate frosting.”
“Chocolate?”
“I do love me some chocolate.”
“Mmm, chocolate,” she murmured. Darby didn’t know if it was the way he said it or if it was her oversexed imagination, but she had the sudden image of Dominic laid out on the bed covered in frosting so she could nibble and lick her way up his body, then back down again. “I have a sudden craving for a taste.”
“Maybe I’ll ask the chef to whip up a bowl of my favorite,” he suggested in a husky tone.
Darby knew what he was asking.
This was supposed to be a friendly morning-after breakfast. A friendly, mature way to end a very intense night of hot sex so it didn’t seem like a cheap one-night stand.
The way it was now, Darby could get up, grab the bag she’d brought back after a quick trip to her hotel room between bouts five and six and, with a friendly kiss on the cheek, end her vacation fling.
The door was wide-open, a neon sign flashing overhead a guarantee of no regrets or recriminations on either side. But only if she walked through that door in the next half hour.
If she stayed, if she agreed to chocolate frosting, she was making a commitment. The kind that said, yes, she’d be spending more of her vacation with this man. That instead of enjoying her next seven days at the resort alone, wallowing in doing anything and everything she wanted by herself, she’d spend at least some of that time with him.
The only commitment Darby was willing to make in life was to her career. That was the only thing she had control of, the only place she had any guarantee that her hard work, devotion and emotional investment would give any sort of return.
Unlike relationships, her career didn’t make unreasonable demands. Unlike friendships, her career didn’t let her down. Unlike family, her career didn’t break her heart.
Yet, as she stared at his compelling face across the breakfast table, she was tempted. And, hey, this was vacation. In normal life, she didn’t have random sex. She wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of gal.
Yet, here she was, having a vacation fling.
Sitting across the table from the man she’d had random sex with, contemplating the wisdom of extending one wild night into a weeklong frosting fest.
All she could do was shake her head.
“Well, I have to say this sure beats my normal morning routine.” She scooped up a spoonful of fruit, reveling in the burst of flavor from the fresh pineapple. “Why not see if we can beat my usual evening routine by enjoying a little chocolate frosting. Maybe you could pull some strings and get cupcakes to go with that frosting.”
“You want cupcakes, I’m your man. What’s your favorite flavor?” His smile flashed, and was so damn sexy that Darby almost squirmed in her seat. “We’ll combine mine and yours.”
Oh, how many images that brought to mind. Darby pressed her hand against the butterflies doing the tango in her belly. When had she become totally obsessed with sex?
She wanted to think all she felt for him was a physical attraction. Sure, maybe there was an energy between them, and she liked the way he talked. And yes, she liked the way he seemed to appreciate her strength, how he seemed to admire individuality. And there was something powerful about the intensity that seemed as much a part of him as his sexy smile.
Her gaze scanned the man across from her, noting the way the sun glinted of his muscles, how his smile seemed to reflect that light.
And suddenly she didn’t care. It didn’t matter why. She wasn’t worried about where it was going or what she was feeling.
She was on vacation.
She was simply going to enjoy it. Every delicious second of it.
“Chocolate,” Darby admitted. “Chocolate goes great with chocolate.”
* * *
“CHOCOLATE-CHOCOLATE, HMM? That sounds delicious.”
Intrigued, Nic watched the play of emotions chasing each other across Darby’s face. The woman was a study of conflicting emotions. Sweet one second, edgy the next. She spoke of that birthday cupcake with a hint of joy, then dismissed it with a voice that spoke of heartbreak. She enjoyed the meal with gusto, from fried dough to champagne-laced fruit juice, yet seemed satisfied to celebrate her belated birthday with a generic latte.
“Tell me more about these birthdays of yours.”
“What’s to tell? A year passes, age increases. Sometimes increase brings privileges, sometimes it brings wrinkles. And every once in a while, it includes candles, wishes and presents.”
From her tone, it was just that matter-of-fact. Nic wondered what had happened to make her that way. Was it simply a lack of sentiment or was it something more?
“What about holidays? Do you have a favorite?”
“Holidays?” Her eyes widened behind the big round lenses of her sunglasses. “You want to know my favorite holiday?”
“Sure. C’mon. We’ve put jobs, careers and personal-life details off-limits, right? So let’s talk generics. What’s your favorite holiday?”
“President’s Day.”
“Seriously?” Nic grinned.
“Seriously. It’s the one time of year that everyone in the country is equally enthusiastic about anything to do with political figures.”
Now that was a great point. Well argued, clever and devoid of any partisan inflection. Nic’s brows arched as he tucked away that fact.
“Favorite vacation spot?”
Darby waved her hand to indicate the beach.
Hanalei was his favorite, too, so Nic couldn’t fault her taste.
“Favorite pastime?”
“Work.”
“Work is your favorite pastime?”
“What can I say? I love my job.” She shrugged, the move making her breasts shift temptingly in that snug purple swimsuit. Yeah, beachsi
de vacations in Hanalei were definitely his favorite.
“Me, too,” he admitted, totally feeling her. What he did, his career as a SEAL, as a team leader, a Navy Lieutenant Commander? That’s who he was. “I suppose it’s important to love what you do, to do what you love.”
“Even if it takes over your life to the point that you forget your birthday until two days later?” she teased.
Sure. But as involved as Nic was in his career, he’d never missed a birthday. Or rather, his friends—his team, his family—had never missed it. One year on a mission deep in the mountains of Afghanistan, he’d hunkered down in a cave, blowing out a match stuck in a MRE while the men of Poseidon sang an X-rated birthday ditty.
Did that speak to his ties to his team being too tight? Nic pondered that for the brief second it deserved, then dismissed it as ridiculous. Which left Darby’s ties being, well, nonexistent? Didn’t she have family? Friends who remembered? Who celebrated with her? For her?
A part of him—a part he barely recognized—was tempted to reach over and pull her into his arms for a hug. A hug?
What the hell? Nic mentally cringed.
Time to lighten things up, he decided.
“Favorite song?”
“‘All Summer Long.’”
“Kid Rock’s mash-up of Warren Zevon and Lynyrd Skynyrd.” He nodded when Darby inclined her head. “Nice.”
“How about you?” she asked, sipping the last of her drink with a slurp. “What’s your favorite movie?”
“The Hurt Locker.”
“Hmm, intense military flick starring hottie Jeremy Renner. Nice,” she returned with a smile, pushing her cleaned breakfast dish aside and leaning her elbows on the table to lean toward him. “Favorite color?”
“Purple.”
Obviously picking up the humor in his tone, Darby arched her brows. But to her credit, she didn’t ask. Instead, she kept the game going. “How about your favorite treat?”
You.
But just in case his taste for her was a fluke, he went with his second favorite since he’d enjoyed it a lot more often.
