He stepped closer. “Knots.”
“What?”
“My nickname isn’t ‘champ.’ It’s Knots. That’s what my SEAL buddies call me.”
Realization dawned. “I get it. Clever. Knots, as in nautical miles, right?”
He closed the distance between them. One hand came to rest on the curve of her hip. With the other, he reached around and took hold of her braid. He gave it a pull, forcing her to raise her chin to meet his heated gaze.
“As in rope.” Oh. “I have you to thank, actually, since my proficiency in tying knots started with you.”
Holy crackers. Heat crept into her face.
“You’re so damn pretty when you blush like that.” He released her braid and cupped the side of her face. His thumb stroked across her cheek. “You’re thinking about it right now, aren’t you?” He groaned. “All those times I used your scarves to—”
Brooke pressed two fingers across his lips. The visions swimming around in her head were enough to make her panties uncomfortably damp. If she had to listen to him describe what they’d done together, she might combust.
“You should call Grace and explain the situation to her before she tells your mom,” Brooke said to get them back on track. “I’m going to assume from our conversation the other night that you haven’t introduced a woman to your family before. I would hate for them to get the wrong idea and then be disappointed when they learn the truth.”
Asher let her go with a sigh. “You’d be right about that. I’ve never brought a girl home, not even when I was in high school. But, don’t worry about it. I’ll handle Gracie, and if need be, my mom. They have enough to distract them today. Gracie probably won’t even remember what was said.”
“What are they doing today?”
He shook his head. “Later. Tell me about the dinner Meeks mentioned. What’s the story?”
Brooke wondered if those distractions were the reason he came to see her last night. She made a mental note to circle back to that topic.
“Come on. I need to drop my stuff off in the room before we head out. I’ll explain on the way. We do still have plans today, right?”
“Yep. By the way, that dress is sexy as all get out. I love the way it hugs your curves.”
His husky tone made her shiver. Brooke glanced down at her blue and white tie-dyed sundress, pleased that he liked what he saw and wasn’t afraid to let her know. The least she could do was remind him that they were on the same page.
“Play your cards right, Knots, and my dress won’t be the only thing hugging my curves.”
9
The day had been perfect. Too perfect. As in his-chest-was-tight-while-he-waited-for-the bubble-to-burst perfect.
Asher had chartered a boat for the afternoon. They explored the various islands, had a picnic lunch with their guide aboard the boat, and then snorkeled until the sun began to set. By the time they headed back to the hotel to get ready for dinner, Asher had started to rethink his reasons for avoiding the water outside of work.
Being with Brooke made him feel lighter somehow. Less jaded, more willing to try anything if it meant seeing her smile or hearing her laugh. It was crazy. They fucked every day for a month, didn’t see each other for eight years, and he’d only just seen her again three days ago. Three days. Apparently that was all the time it took, because if he was half in love with her before, he was well on his way to finishing the job now.
He didn’t know how to stop the runaway train that was headed right for them.
So, there he was, freshly showered and dressed in his favorite dress shirt and slacks, standing outside Brooke’s door, ready to take her for a romantic dinner. And he was fucking nervous.
Asher pumped his fists, working blood into his shaking fingers. The nerves freaked him the hell out. He’d faced enemies in battle with less activity in his gut. So, why did the idea of taking one gorgeous, tiny woman to dinner feel so … significant?
You’re being an idiot. People don’t fall in love in three days. It feels significant because you’ve been hard for her all day. You and your dick both know the wait will soon be over.
Right. Okay. What he was feeling had nothing to do with significance. It was anticipation. Nothing more. He could work with that.
Work on knocking on the door, dumbass.
“I can hear you shuffling around out there. Are you planning to knock anytime soon?” Brooke’s voice drifted through the door. “I’m hungry.”
The sound of her voice calmed him. It also made seeing her an urgent matter. He rapped a knuckle against the door. “Open up, gorgeous. Dinner awaits.”
The door flew open and it took him a second to speak. Her sun-drenched hair was down, framing her like a goddamn halo. She wore another sundress, this one a silvery blue that shimmered in the light and set off her ever-deepening tan. The dress fit tightly around her breasts and waist, only to flare out into a skirt that barely reached her mid-thigh. And her shoes … Asher groaned. Strappy white sandals. They were ultra-feminine, delicate-looking with a long thin heel that made her bare legs look miles long.
Christ Almighty. He wanted to fuck her in nothing but those shoes.
“Ash?”
When he opened his mouth, the words that came out didn’t seem enough. “You are stunning.”
Brooke crossed her ankles, fanned out her skirt, and gave him an adorable, playful curtsy. “Thank you. And don’t you look handsome.”
She reached out to smooth the front of his shirt, a growing habit she seemed to enjoy. Instinctively, he leaned in, not only accepting her touch, but encouraging her to continue.
She trailed a fingernail over his buttons, one by one. “How many dress shirts did you pack?” she asked with a sly smile.
How was he supposed to come up with a number with her hands on him? If she kept with the petting, they’d never make it to dinner. “I dunno. Five or six, I guess.”
Her smile grew. “Don’t most men pack shorts and T-shirts when they go on vacation?”
“I wouldn’t know what other men pack.” He flattened her wandering hand against his chest, right over his heart.
It occurred to him how little they actually knew about each other. So far, they’d kept the conversation light. No deep diving into each other’s thoughts and lives. It was his standard MO. He met, he seduced, he fucked, he said goodbye. No muss, no fuss. With one exception: Brooke. She was different. She made him want to be different.
He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, loving the feel of the silky smooth waves against his fingers. “Some fun facts about me, Brooke. I love good bourbon and nice clothes.” His SEAL buddies loved to give him shit about both. “I’m more comfortable wearing slacks than wearing jeans that cut off my circulation. My junk needs room to breathe.”
At the mention of his cock, Brooke’s gaze dipped as if to see for herself. He died a little when she licked her lips. Fuck him, there was no way he could handle her checking him out so blatantly when they had to go.
He put a knuckle under her chin and lifted her gaze back to his. “As I was saying.” He cleared the gravel from his throat. “I prefer slacks. I like shirts with buttons, long-sleeved and short. You should know that I also packed a suit.” Which, as it turns out, had been a good decision. He didn’t have his dress uniform. If his mom insisted on going through with the wedding, at least he wouldn’t look like a total tool for the photos.
“But don’t worry,” Asher went on to reassure her. “I brought several T-shirts and pairs of board shorts for swimming. I even brought a pair of jeans and an old pair of sweats that I wear sometimes while I’m chilling on the couch.”
“Are you saying you’re not always this neat and clean?”
Asher laughed and pulled her into his arms. He breathed her in, and God, she smelled amazing. Her coconut scent went straight to his head. “You saw me last night, right? After my run? There wasn’t anything neat or clean about me then.”
He brought his face close, his lips grazing h
er ear. “But, I’d be happy to remind you of how dirty I can get.” In truth, he would love nothing more than to strip her down and taste every inch of her body, but that would have to wait. Brooke’s client had arranged dinner for them and Asher would be damned if they were going to insult the man or jeopardize her work reputation by showing up late.
He nipped the outer edge of Brooke’s ear, growling in satisfaction at her sharp intake of breath. “But, not right now. We’ve got to go, sweetheart.”
He felt her feather-light whisper against the hollow of his throat. “Later, then.”
“Later.” If he tasted her lips, they’d never get out of there, so he kissed her forehead instead, sealing the promise of things to come.
Gregory had arranged for everything. A staff member met them outside the lobby and drove them over to the new resort in a four-seater golf cart. When the driver skirted around the buildings and headed for the beach, Brooke leaned forward.
“Are you sure this is the way?” She thought they would be eating in one of the new restaurant spaces.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s just over there.” The driver pointed to an area of the beach that seemed to be glowing.
“Wow.” Asher whistled low as the spot came into view. “Isn’t that something?”
Brooke couldn’t believe the beauty of it. Ground level torches lit a pathway toward a cabana, much like the one where Asher had kissed her, only smaller. More intimate.
Brooke went into work mode, mentally cataloguing every detail.
Surrounded by a square of taller torches than the ones used on the path, the cabana’s sheer curtains were pulled back to reveal a table, two chairs, and the vast expanse of the ocean as a backdrop.
There was no music to discourage conversation, just the rolling shush of the ocean as it moved. There was no other activity going on to distract the couple—them, for tonight—from each other.
There were two employees dressed in black and white uniforms standing to the left of the path, and Brooke wondered if they would hang around or make themselves scarce once their meal had been served.
Guess she was about to find out.
Asher helped her out of the golf cart. Once she was standing, he glanced down at her feet with a cringe. “I hate to ask this, but can you walk across the sand in those shoes?”
“Why do you hate to ask that?”
He lowered his voice. “Because from the moment I saw you tonight, I’ve had this fantasy running through my head, and it involves you wearing those shoes.”
“That’s funny.” She ran a hand down his chest, tracing over the ridges of his washboard abs. She couldn’t get enough of his heat and sculpted lines. “I’ve had a fantasy running, too. Mine involves you wearing this shirt, only its buttons are scattered all over the bedroom floor.”
Asher tilted his head skyward and growl-groaned toward the stars. “You’re killing me, Brooke. Get them off.”
She imagined him using that phrase back in the room. Get them off, Brooke. Get those fucking panties off right now.
How long had it been since a man had been so desperate to have her that he made such demands? Brooke shivered. Too long.
“Are you cold?”
“No.” Brooke couldn’t look at him. She was sure her thoughts were written all over her face, but they had to at least get through dinner. “I’m good.”
Using Asher’s forearm for balance, Brooke slipped out of the sandals. Asher took them from her and ushered her down the torch-lit path.
Once they were seated, a waiter appeared with a bottle of champagne.
“I’m not much for bubbly. Do you have any bourbon?” Asher asked.
“Of course, sir. Blanton’s Gold is—”
“Hell, yeah,” Asher interrupted. “That’s perfect. I’d lost hope of finding a decent bottle on this island.”
The waiter smiled, conspiratorially. “You haven’t been looking in the right place. Would you like me to send a bottle to your room?”
“That would be great, thank you. I’m in Suite 8245.”
He’d had all day to share that information with her and he hadn’t. They hadn’t traded cell numbers either.
Because this isn’t a date and you aren’t a couple. You’re going to bang each other’s brains out for a few days and then walk away. Just like last time.
She’d been hurt the last time. The sad truth was she’d take the hurt again to be with him, even for a few days. She was older and wiser than she’d been before. Heartache and pain wouldn’t break her. The pain of being left behind never broke her.
“Very good, sir. Consider it done. For you, miss?” The waiter held the bottle of champagne for her to inspect.
“No, thank you. I had a sparkling mint and lime iced tea the other day. Can I get that here?”
“You don’t want champagne?” Asher asked. “How about a glass of wine?”
“I’m not drinking tonight.” She sent him a meaningful glance hidden behind a sweet-as-pie smile. “Stone-cold, I believe were the words you used.”
“She’ll take the tea,” Asher told the waiter, his gaze never leaving hers. Once the man left to fetch their drinks, his lids lowered to slits. “I’m keeping track, starting now.”
“Keeping track of what?”
“How many times you tempt me tonight. Remember—payback.”
As much as she liked the sound of that, she wanted them both to be able to enjoy the meal. Technically, she was working. It wouldn’t do her much good if she lost all the details in an Asher-induced lust-filled haze.
“All right. You win. I’ll behave.”
“You behaving is not a win for me, baby.”
The waiter returned with their drinks. Another waiter immediately delivered a tray piled with cold shrimp and cubed lobster tails, along with small ramekins of clarified butter and a variety of other sauces for the shrimp.
They hadn’t been given a menu, but it was kind of exciting, being served like royalty.
Small plates were placed in front of them and they dug in.
“Have you given any more thought to what you might do when your contract expires?”
Asher hesitated in the process of chewing a piece of shrimp. She watched as he swallowed then washed the food down with bourbon. The man even made eating sexy.
“Things are a little crazy right now. Lots of guys are getting out, retiring. It’s hard to see my brothers being so content and happy without thinking about what-ifs for myself.”
He stabbed a piece of lobster and dunked it in the butter.
“The thing is, being a SEAL is the only thing I know how to do, and I love my job. But sometimes I wonder…” He shook his head as if to erase whatever he was about to say. He brought the seafood to his lips, but spoke before it disappeared into his mouth. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll probably re-up.”
An overwhelming sadness made it hard for Brooke to breathe. She knew what renewing his contract meant for Asher. It meant more one-night-stands, coming home to an empty apartment, never having love in his life. All because the stubborn ass couldn’t see any other way.
His words also confirmed that these next few days were all she would have with him, so she’d better make them count.
“You have to follow your heart. If being a SEAL is what you love, then that’s what you should do.” And because she suspected what he’d been wondering about, she added, “You shouldn’t have to sacrifice having a life outside the military, Ash. Any woman worthy of a man like you would never ask you to quit. She would be proud of the man you are and not try to change you.”
“My mom is getting married. That’s what this whole trip was about, although I didn’t know until last night. She tricked me into taking leave, knowing I wouldn’t want them traveling alone, because she couldn’t imagine getting married without her kids by her side. Those were her words, by the way. Not mine.”
Startled by the abrupt change in topic, Brooke floundered. “W-what?”
Asher dropped his fork on the t
able and sat back. “My mom is getting married. Here. This weekend.”
A wedding? On the island? In a few days?
Brooke’s creative brain took over her rational one. Using original—not stock—photos for the pitch would go a long way to completing her vision for the new campaign. It would add a personal touch she thought Gregory would appreciate. She would need to get permission from Asher’s mom, which meant interacting with the woman. It also meant attending the wedding, which felt awkward and manipulative considering Asher hadn’t invited her. She’d definitely need to discuss her thoughts with him first.
“That’s exciting news.” Although his expression said otherwise. “Do you get along well with the man she’s marrying?”
Brooke knew from experience that wasn’t always the case. The first guy her mom married after her dad left had been a total dick. The second guy had been a little better, but not much. The third guy Brooke had actually liked, and he seemed to like her as well. Brooke secretly believed that was the reason her mom kicked him out. Her mom didn’t like sharing attention, even with her daughter.
She hoped Asher’s situation was different.
“I get along with him fine.”
“But, you’re still not happy.”
“He’s my commanding officer.”
“Oh.” She was beginning to see why he wasn’t more excited. If he didn’t believe he could have a relationship because of his job, he would definitely feel the same way about his commanding officer.
“Yeah. Oh.”
His gaze darted with obvious annoyance to the waiter who came to deliver their meal. Asher sat back, and Brooke did the same, giving the waiter room to remove their appetizer plates and replace them with dinner.
She and Asher both declined needing anything further and the waiter disappeared into the night.
Brooke stared at the plate. The perfectly seared steak, scallops, and green beans made her mouth water, but she didn’t make any attempt to reach for the steak knife.
This conversation could go one of two ways. She could get onboard his unhappy train and commiserate, or she could dig deeper and potentially spoil the rest of their evening.
Hot SEAL, Bourbon Neat (SEALs in Paradise) Page 9
