by Zoe York
He checked her pockets, and she was grateful she hadn’t brought any tools of her father’s trade. She tried to ignore how good his fingers felt as he slid them into first her front pockets, then her back ones. He took his time. How screwed up was it that she was trying to desperately remember every touch, every moment of a body search?
Her gut twisted, and she wanted to cry out, to yell at him and tell him he’d got it wrong, but he wouldn’t listen. He’d made that crystal clear.
He dropped to his knees behind her. Her legs were bare, but that didn’t stop him from running his hands up and down them.
“You scraped your knee,” he muttered.
“From a tree-climbing adventure,” she lied.
“Climbing into the house, more likely.”
She stared stonily at the wall.
He rose behind her and tugged on her braid. “You are a damned ninny, you know that?”
The words didn’t process properly. Her brain spun, trying to make sense of what was happening, as his lips brushed against the back of her neck.
“We need to have a serious talk about trust and communication, gorgeous.” He reached between her and the wall, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“What?”
“Hey, Brayden. My dad’s back in town and it looks like he managed to find the statue at Villa Sucre. This is awkward, hey? What should I do?” He pressed his cheek against her hair and sighed. “I don’t know what I would have said, because you’re right, that is awkward. But I’d have believed you.”
“But you said…” Her heart hammered against her chest. “I pissed you off.”
“Because I couldn’t find you. Because I was worried.”
“Oh.”
“How much of our conversation did you hear downstairs?” He brushed his lips against the curve of her ear.
“A-all of it.”
“Did you hear the part where I said love made me stupid?”
“Y-yes.”
“Was that clear what I meant?”
Yes, but she wanted to hear it again. Not through a floor grate. “No.”
He turned her around and cupped her face in his hands. “I love you. I’m sorry if that’s more than you wanted, but it’s what you get. Me, always, no matter what, even if your dad has a past that’s kind of complicated. Even if the stuff that swirls around us is weird, this right here has always felt right for me. From the first night.”
He leaned in and kissed her, softly at first, then more intently. He kissed her until she rose up on her tiptoes and met him stroke for stroke.
“I love you,” he whispered again. “And I’m so damn glad you’re okay.”
“I love you, too,” she said right back, her voice hitching. “And I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “We’ll get there. Don’t worry about it.”
From downstairs, they heard the kitchen door open and close. She made a grimacing face. “Speaking of apologies…I probably owe Will a couple.”
“We’ll worry about that tomorrow. He’s not big on people being nice to him, anyway.”
“Oh, good. That’ll make the fact that Daphne hates him way less stressful.”
Brayden laughed and gathered her in his arms. “Come here.”
TWENTY
THE BRIDE OPTED NOT TO THROW HER BOUQUET.
She’d cried when Daphne and Arielle gave it to her, and promised to keep it forever as a keepsake. Two dozen flowers, each unique and hand-crafted out of words and love and paper. It was the kind of unique touch that Arielle wanted for her own wedding, maybe.
Kind of crazy to think about that, but then she just had to look at Brayden, impossibly handsome in a linen suit, and it didn’t seem crazy in the least.
The men had all gone to Sunshine Bay and come back with matching outfits that suited the tropical setting perfectly.
The women, on the other hand, all wore something different. Cara’s dress ended mid-calf, so she could be barefoot on the beach. White lace, a swirling skirt that flowed like the ocean in the background.
Daphne and Arielle had raided their own closets, and ended up trading clothes for the occasion. Daphne wore Arielle’s favorite turquoise sundress, and Arielle discovered the most perfect coral dress in Daphne’s collection.
“You never wear this,” Arielle said.
“Because my legs never look that good in it,” Daphne teased. “Brayden will swallow his tongue when he sees you.”
He did indeed.
Now they were looking at each other across the verandah at Villa Sucre. The ceremony had been beautiful, and the catered meal was incredible, but she was ready to be alone with her man.
Weddings had never turned her on before. She needed to warn Daphne, because there was definitely something in the water.
“Don’t you think it’s about time you introduce me to your young man?” her father asked, coming up behind her.
She took a deep breath. “You’ve met Brayden, Dad.”
“Right. The awkward conversation where I had to explain how Will’s grandfather gave me that statue, and your mother always thought I’d stolen it. That was a lot of fun.”
“Dad…”
“But now I’m your father, you’re my little girl, and he wants to court you. So the power is on the other foot, so to speak.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not your little girl anymore, and there is no power, anywhere.”
“Does he make you happy?”
“Very.”
“Good.”
“You sticking around Petite Ciotat for a while?” She already knew the answer was no, but she was glad he’d come for this, anyway.
“I’ll be back for your wedding, mon bébé.”
She just laughed. “Okay. You’ll be waiting a while.”
But when Brayden finally whisked her away, his arm firmly wrapped around her waist, he leaned in and whispered, “That was good fun, right?”
She tipped her face to look at him. “The wedding?”
He nodded.
“Yeah. It was beautiful.”
He smiled, and it reached all the way to his eyes. “Thank you for being my date.”
“Always.”
“That’s the plan.”
“Brayden?”
“Yes?”
“I have a confession to make.”
He grinned at her. “Yeah?”
“I stole something from the wedding.”
“Oh?”
There were two pieces of traditional wedding fruit cake in her purse. She lifted her chin defiantly. “You can’t make me talk.”
“We’ll see about that, gorgeous.” He leaned and gave her a menacing look that made her panties wet. “Now are you going to get in the car willingly, or do I need to cuff you?”
~
Keep reading in the ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights series… Anne Marsh’s Her One Best SEAL, is now available! Turn the page for a list of titles in this collection.
And have you read Mick and Cara’s story? If not, go back and discover Ruined by the SEAL!
And coming soon… CHERISHED BY THE SEAL.. Be sure you’re on my newsletter (www.smarturl.it/ZoeYorkNewsletter) to get a heads-up when Logan Dwyer’s book comes out:
A hot bride, an island honeymoon, and a suitcase full of bikinis. So what if he’s not the groom?
Navy SEAL Logan Dwyer has been Victoria Fletcher’s best friend since second grade, and has had a hopeless, secret crush on her for at least half his life. But Tori deserves a man that can be there for her whenever she needs it.
Not a warrior. Not a guy who spends more time in jungles and war zones than at home.
But when she’s left at the altar, and decides to salvage her honeymoon if someone can go with her…Logan can’t help but volunteer.
Seven days on the Caribbean island of Miralinda. Seven hot, unexpected nights.
One week to figure out if this is just a rebound fling, or if the only woman he’s ever loved might just
see him as something more than her safe, sexy and willing best friend.
ASSIGNMENT: CARIBBEAN NIGHTS
Duchess Island by Kat Cantrell
Commanding Her SEAL
Claiming Her SEAL
Revealing Her SEAL
Redeeming Her SEAL
Protecting Her SEAL
Miralinda Island by Zoe York
Ruined by the SEAL
Bound by the SEAL
Cherished by the SEAL
Bought by the SEAL
Angel Cay by Anne Marsh
Sweet for a SEAL
Her One Best SEAL
The Trouble with SEALs
Still Her SEAL
Visit us at Navy SEAL Romance and never miss a story in the ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights series!
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ZOE YORK
Zoe York lives in London, Ontario with her young family. An author of more than twenty sexy small town and military romances, she is a fan of heroes that could be swoon-worthy in real life, and heroines that could be her best friends. She's currently chugging Americanos, wiping sticky fingers, and dreaming of heroes in and out of uniform.
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