Hot SEAL, Bourbon Neat (SEALs in Paradise)

by Parker Kincade

  “You didn’t seem happy she was there. You were scowling at her during the ceremony.”

  “I was not scowling at her.” Was he? He remembered the sun was bright, so he had to squint to make out the freckles he loved so much. “I was just looking at her.”

  Gracie snorted. “Whatever. You were scowling. And then you introduced her to everyone as Brooke.”

  Asher got up and went to the bar, where he poured a liberal amount of Blanton’s into a glass. He drank down the shot and poured another. “So? That’s her name. How did you expect me to introduce her?”

  “A guy who’s with a woman would usually introduce her as his girlfriend.”

  Yeah, and that guy should sac up and have the important discussion with his woman so he could actually claim the right to that title.

  “We haven’t had the whole exclusivity discussion yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Jesus, you’re pushy.” He tossed her the remote. “Put on a movie. I’m done with this discussion.”

  “I’m just saying, I can’t speak for Brooke, but most women like to be acknowledged. If I were dating a guy and he acted like I was some random person in his life instead of his girlfriend, I’d be pissed. I might even break up with him.”

  Asher swallowed another gulp of bourbon. He’d been so far up in his own head today that he hadn’t even realized how Brooke might read into his behavior. And he’d let her walk back to her suite alone. He was dying to go with her, but he knew if he did, he’d never leave and she wouldn’t get her work done.

  At least they had another week together on the island. After her meeting was over tomorrow, he’d take her somewhere they could talk and he would lay his cards on the table.

  This time, he was going all in.

  14

  Brooke’s cell phone woke her with a start. She knew where they stood now, but she couldn’t keep her stupid heart from fluttering at the thought that it could be Asher calling. Of course, then she remembered they hadn’t traded cell numbers. There hadn’t been any need. They were in a tropical paradise. Neither one of them had carried their phones while they were exploring the islands. Not to mention they’d spent pretty much every minute together, so she’d forgotten to ask for his number.

  Not that you’ll need it now.

  Brooke rubbed the sleep from her eyes and glanced at the caller ID. She groaned out loud.

  Sandra Davenport, the display read.

  Damn it all. Her boss was the last person she needed to talk to this morning. She was exhausted from lack of sleep, she hadn’t had her tea yet, and her mood was for shit.

  Sandra hadn’t bothered her all week, a fact that would normally have concerned her had she not been distracted. A radio-silent Sandra was never a good thing.

  “Hello?” Brooke sat up straighter and smoothed down her hair as if the woman was standing in front of her instead of thousands of miles away.

  “Are you still asleep? Need I remind you that you are not on vacation? You’re supposed to be working.”

  Sandra’s voice had the effect of nails on a chalkboard, causing a shudder to race down Brooke’s spine. The time on the bedside table indicated it was nine in the morning. Her meeting with Gregory wasn’t until ten-thirty.

  “I have been working. I finished the preliminary proposal for the campaign last night,” Brooke told her. “I have a meeting with Mr. Meeks later this morning to pitch my ideas and I know he’s going to love them. There’s nothing to worry about.” Brooke had put her heart and soul into selling the couples angle for the resort. Literally. “Everything is under control, Sandra.”

  “Everything is not under control. I haven’t seen this so-called pitch, and in light of recent events, I’m not sure I trust you to handle this account.”

  “Recent events?” What was she talking about?

  “Give me your suite number.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I’m in the lobby and the desk won’t give me your suite number. I want to see what you’ve done before you take it to the client. I am your boss, in case you’ve forgotten. I’m responsible for you. Give me your suite number.”

  Brooke rattled off the numbers as if her mouth was on autopilot. Sandra was there? That couldn’t be good.

  “I’ll be right over,” Sandra snipped and the line went dead.

  Brooke tossed her phone onto the mattress and bolted for the bathroom. Her hair was stiff from day-old hairspray, but there was no time for a shower. She didn’t even bother with a brush. She piled the curls she’d created for the wedding yesterday into a ponytail and slipped a wide headband around her head. She quickly brushed her teeth with one hand while she raced around the bedroom, pulling clothes and underthings out of drawers.

  By the time Sandra knocked on the door, Brooke was dressed, but nowhere near ready.

  Everything is going to be fine. You’re good at your job, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.

  Brooke plastered a smile on her face and opened the door.

  “Sandra,” she said as the woman pushed past her and into the room. “I didn’t know you were coming. When did you get in?”

  Sandra Davenport was a shrew in every sense of the word. She was in her early forties. Small in stature with hair the color of, well, a shrew. Her nose was bladed and long, far too small for her round face. Her wide set eyes were made bigger by thick, horn-rimmed glasses. Her lips had a permanent curve to the south, as if she had no reason to smile. Ever. And she dressed like someone twice her age, all paisley prints and cardigans.

  “It’s not your business to know what I’m doing, but I arrived yesterday afternoon.” Sandra’s face scrunched as she scrutinized Brooke from head to toe. “You look terrible. Are you hungover? Your eyes are all puffy and red.”

  Because I was up most of the night working, and when I wasn’t doing that, I was trying to come to terms with where things are with Asher, which is nowhere, you annoying, nosey bitch.

  “I’m not hungover, Sandra. As you stated, I’m here to work, not play.”

  Sandra sniffed. “Yes, well. That’s not what I hear.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I’ve been talking with the client. Imagine my surprise to learn there wasn’t one, but two incidents here at the resort involving you and some man Mr. Meeks claimed to be your boyfriend.”

  She should’ve known Sandra would find out about what happened with Brett. “Neither of those incidents were my fault. There was a young man who was harassing me. Both times he got out of line.”

  “Yes, well, I’m sure you can understand our concern. You represent the Woodson Bellamy Agency and it doesn’t look good for the company when one of its employees can’t stay out of trouble. And when you’re on the client’s dime, no less.”

  Sandra glanced over to where Brooke’s company-issued laptop sat on the table. “You say you’re ready for the pitch?”

  “Yes.”

  Brooke forced her feet to stay put as Sandra went to the table. Sandra bent down, her hand working the mouse as she apparently flipped through the slides Brooke had stayed up half the night creating. After what felt like hours, Sandra pushed the laptop closed and gathered it close to her chest.

  “I’ll take this,” she said.

  Brooke’s heart stopped. “Wait. What are you doing? I need that for my meeting.”

  “You won’t be attending the meeting.”

  “I have to attend. It’s my pitch. Those are my ideas. You can’t—”

  “I can and I will. As of right now, I am taking over the account. And in light of your recent behavior, I have the support of the agency’s partners, so don’t bother fighting me on this.”

  Her recent … oh the nerve of this woman. Brooke picked up her phone. She wasn’t taking Sandra’s word for it. Not this time. “If you have their support, then you won’t mind if I call to verify?”

  “By all means. Then you can personally explain how you’ve been spending your time this week.” Sandra�
�s smile was one of pure satisfaction. “Oh, that’s right. I know what you’ve been doing on company time. Mr. Meeks tells me you and your male companion were having quite a time on the islands. Romantic dinners, private boat tours, lounging on the beach. He remarked what a lovely couple the two of you make.”

  “I can explain if you’ll only—”

  “I expect we will see more of this boyfriend of yours? Will he pop into the office to take you to lunch? Attend the agency Christmas party?”

  “Gregory—Mr. Meeks—wanted to focus on promoting the new couples resort that will open next year.” Brooke said, proud of herself for remaining calm. “Since he brought me here to experience the resort firsthand anyway, he thought it would be beneficial for me to do so as part of a couple.”

  “So, you went down to the beach and picked the first man you saw?”

  “No. I’ve known Asher for years.” Just saying his name made her heart hurt. “Running into him was a complete coincidence. He’s here on vacation with his family.” And she really needed to stop talking. “It’s kind of a long story.”

  “I’m not interested in hearing any stories.” Sandra crossed her arms. “Is this man your boyfriend or not? A simple yes or no will clear up this whole matter.”

  Would it? It seemed either way she answered, Sandra would find fault. And there was nothing simple when it came to her relationship with Asher.

  If Sandra had shown up a day earlier, Brooke would’ve said yes, without a doubt, Asher Dillon was indeed her boyfriend. He had been for the last week, in every sense of the word. A day earlier and Brooke would’ve taken Sandra to meet him, confident she would take one look at them together and realize the truth.

  That they were in love.

  But, that wasn’t the truth, was it? Asher wasn’t in love. He wasn’t her boyfriend. Not now, not ever. He was with her because of proximity, and because of the outstanding sex they had together.

  She was his vacation hook-up.

  “No. No, he’s not.”

  Sandra nodded and Brooke wanted to slap the arrogant smile from her face.

  “So, you purposely deceived the client.”

  “It was nothing more than a misunderstanding.”

  “That you did nothing to rectify. Is that correct?”

  Brooke gave in to the sigh ready to let loose in her throat. “I’ll admit, I should have explained the situation, but I still don’t see what the big deal is. No one was hurt. The client wanted me to experience the couples side of things, and I did.” Then she created a kick ass campaign that it appeared she was going to lose.

  “The big deal is you misrepresented yourself to a client and got yourself a nice little vacation out of the deal.” She snorted with disgust. “Obviously, Brooke, I can’t have an advertising executive on my team who lies to her clients to gain favor. How am I ever supposed to trust you now?”

  Brooke’s hold on her temper broke. “I’ve worked my ass off for Woodson Bellamy for close to nine years. My work should stand on its own. I’ve created some of the most successful advertising campaigns the agency has ever produced.”

  Sandra’s brow went up. “Did you?” she asked, and Brooke knew she was screwed. The higher-ups only knew what Sandra wanted them to know.

  Brooke had let it happen. She hadn’t fought for herself or her work because she hadn’t wanted to rock the boat. She was so afraid of losing her steady income that she’d allowed this woman to walk all over her. And all for naught, apparently. She knew what was coming and braced herself for the impact.

  Sandra raised her chin. “This should not come as a shock, but you’re fired. Effective immediately. Pack your things, Brooke. I’ve booked you a seat on the morning flight out. It leaves in less than an hour. I’ve already called you a cab.”

  Direct. Hit.

  Asher lifted the fork full of pancakes to his mouth as he watched Gregory Meeks and a woman he didn’t recognize walk into the restaurant. He shoved in the bite, then checked his watch. Ten-fifteen. Gregory’s meeting with Brooke was at ten-thirty. He wasn’t sure where they were meeting, but he didn’t want to intrude if they were meeting there. Brooke needed to know he respected her space, as much as he’d love to watch her work.

  He couldn’t wait to see her. His bed felt empty and cold last night without her next to him. They had a lot of shit to work out. He wasn’t naive or stupid. It wasn’t going to be easy. He was entering completely new territory. He was bound to fuck some shit up, but for the first time in his life, he looked forward to the challenge.

  He finished his breakfast and stood to leave. The woman with Meeks had a laptop open on the table. As he walked by, Asher recognized the people in the photo on the screen.

  What the hell?

  Before he knew what he was doing, Asher walked over.

  “Hey, Meeks,” he greeted.

  Gregory’s gaze shifted from him to the woman and back, looking uncomfortable as hell.

  “Sorry to interrupt. I couldn’t help but notice that picture—”

  The woman slammed the laptop closed. “I’m sorry. That’s proprietary information.”

  “If that picture is of who I think it is, then you’re damn right.” The woman’s uppity tone got under his skin. Asher ignored her protests as he reached over, spun the laptop to face him and opened the screen. There, in the center, was one of the full-page advertisements Brooke had created featuring his mom and Joel at their wedding.

  “Where did you get that? Where’s Brooke?” This was the biggest opportunity of her career. There was no way she would’ve missed it.

  “We are in the middle of a meeting,” the woman said.

  Asher continued to ignore her. He addressed Meeks instead. “You wanna tell me why this woman is here pitching Brooke’s hard work, instead of Brooke herself?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the woman said. “This campaign wasn’t created by any one person. It was created by the Woodson Bellamy Agency.”

  Asher crossed his arms. “And you are?”

  “I’m Sandra Davenport, senior advertising executive.”

  “Well, Ms. Davenport, I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that what you just said is a load of bullshit. Brooke Ramsey created that ad all on her own, because I watched her do it.”

  “Ms. Davenport,” Meeks cut in. “This is Brooke’s boyfriend. The man I was telling you about. Asher Dillon.”

  Sandra smirked. “Boyfriend, huh? That’s not what Brooke said.”

  Asher ground his teeth. Oh, he knew who the woman was. She was Brooke’s boss. The one who had it out for Brooke.

  “Where is she?”

  “I’d say by now she’s well on her way back to San Diego.”

  Asher couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.

  Brooke was gone? Why the fuck would she just leave?

  “What did you do?” he practically snarled. If Sandra had been a man, she’d be spitting teeth right about now.

  “I had to let her go. I did what was best for the client and my company.”

  Asher cursed. Loudly. He dropped his knuckles against the table and leaned in. “Let me be very clear. Those photos belong to me and my family. We do not give our consent to you or your agency to use the photos. If you do use them, we won’t hesitate to sue you for copyright infringement. It might also interest you to know the man in those photographs is Navy SEAL Commander Joel Taylor. Trust me when I say you do not want to piss him off.

  “And as for you,” Asher didn’t even try to hide his disgust as he looked down his nose at Sandra. “You better enjoy your job while you have it, because I just made it my personal mission to see you removed from your position.”

  He didn’t know if the top brass at the company would listen to what he had to say, but he damn sure was going to set up a meeting and let them know the kind of person they had managing their employees.

  Asher turned to leave. He made it to the lobby before his knees gave out and he had to sit down on one of the oversi
zed lounge chairs they had there.

  He dropped his head into his hands. What the fuck was he supposed to do now?

  Brooke was gone.

  “This was not my doing.” Asher’s head snapped up at Gregory’s voice. “I hated to hear what happened. I assure you, I quite enjoyed Ms. Ramsey.”

  A growl emanated from Asher’s throat. “Not what I need to hear right now, Meeks.”

  “Then how about this. I am fully aware of who did the work on our campaign. From what I’ve seen so far, Ms. Ramsey captured my vision for the new area perfectly. The unfortunate truth of the matter is we signed a contract with the Woodson Bellamy Agency for this resort.”

  “You do what you have to do, Meeks, but I meant what I said in there. If I see one ad featuring my parents, or any other photograph Brooke took while on this island, we will take action to stop it.”

  Gregory nodded. “I understand that, but you didn’t let me finish. We signed a contract for the resort here in Grand Turks.”

  “Yeah, I heard you the first time. What’s your point?”

  “The point is Ms. Ramsey is very talented and we have five other resorts not under contract.” Meeks handed Asher his card. “When you see her, please tell her to give me a call.”

  As Meeks walked away, Asher reached in his pocket for his phone when it hit him like a battering ram.

  Motherfucker. He didn’t have her goddamn phone number.

  He squeezed the phone in his fist. It was either that or throw the fucking thing across the lobby, which might make him feel better, but wouldn’t help him in the least.

  He was going to need his phone to find her. When he did, he would make sure she understood he was in this for the long haul. And then, he’d make goddamn sure she never ran from him again.

  15

  Ten days later

  Brooke was a cliché. She hadn’t left her apartment, gotten dressed, or eaten anything except peanut butter from the jar, ramen noodles, and ice cream, since that’s all she had readily available after cleaning out her fridge before she left for Grand Turks.