by Monroe, Jill
“This kind of reminds me of mom,” Hailey said.
“I was thinking the same thing. How many times did we talk about boys, and dates with our hands in this sink?”
“Lots.” She smiled at the happy memory.
“So, he was a good kisser?” Rachel asked.
God save her, yes. “Stop,” she said in exasperation, then swatted her sister with the towel anyway.
AFTER A CHECKING ON the Ensign and a quick debrief, Nate Peterson headed to the weight room. He worked to mask the usually slight limp to his leg, more pronounced after the arduous training swim and carrying the injured man’s weight up onto the beach.
He willed the pain away.
He’d dealt with worse. Fought with worse. Soon, the wicked scar wrapping around his thigh would be the only evidence he’d ever been hurt. His leg injury might prevent him from running, but it couldn’t stop him from strength training. Nothing would stop him from returning to SEAL condition and taking his rightful place in The Teams when he was called.
Nate may have been looking for an escape from his old man, but fate had looked out for him that day when he was in the Navy recruiter’s office at the age of eighteen.
He wasn’t half way through basic when Nate realized he’d found a home. The Navy provided rules and discipline, something he’d never experienced growing up. His father may have laughed, but Nate actually excelled when there was a level of expectation. He wasn’t a benchmark kind of guy. If there was a challenge, Nate didn’t just want to meet it, he wanted to surpass it.
With the SEALs being the most highly regarded and trained of all the Special Forces, Nate knew that Trident would one day be his. He wouldn’t let something like an injury prevent him from doing what he was supposed to do.
He adjusted the weight for the reps to work his upper body. Almost every base he’d been assigned housed a weight room. Different locales, different climates, different languages…this room with its benches, mirrors and weights, was like coming home. Working out was as much a part of his normal routine as shaving or eating. Only the physical therapy exercises were new. The movements, which would return the tone and flexibility to his muscles, he kept to himself and performed away from the eyes of others.
Nate controlled his breathing as he lifted and lowered his arms. Muscle memory took over, and his mind began to wander. To telling eyes, and soft warm lips.
What the hell had that been on the beach? With familiar discipline, he’d kept his thoughts squarely on his tasks and his men. But now…now he allowed himself to remember. And think of her. Of the flowery scent of her mixed with the ocean breeze. Or the way she felt, soft and warm against him.
His thoughts quickly turned to another kind of workout all together. Finding the zipper on the back of her dress, and drawing it down. Sliding those slender, tantalizing straps off the smooth skin of her shoulders, and letting her clothes fall to the sand at their feet.
Why had she kissed him?
Who the hell cared?
Nate heard footsteps in the hallway. His few moments alone were almost over.
“It looked to me like she just pulled him over and kissed him.”
Yeah, that’s exactly how it happened.
“He didn’t handle the attack so well,” another trainee said as they entered the weight room.
The hell he hadn’t.
“If she’d had a knife stuffed in her purse, he’d have been a goner.”
She didn ’t have a purse. Just a thin, thin dress.
“Maybe it’s new Navy protocol.” The three men laughed. At his expense. He knew they were only blowing off steam. SQT was just as mentally demanding as Hell Week was physically demanding. But he’d lose their respect if he didn’t call them on it. He realized now he’d made a mistake out there in the water.
Nate lowered the weight and it clanged. Three gazes whipped his way. Followed quickly by three alarmed faces. He met each man eye to eye. His message was clear.
“We didn’t know you were here, Instructor.”
“Obviously,” he replied.
The three stood together, uneasy, but not letting one man take the heat. Whatever Nate had to dish out at them they’d take together. The Teams would do well with soldiers such as these. Like him, they’d had a tough afternoon in the water, and he was impressed by their drive to hit the weight room instead of their bunks.
One day he might be fighting alongside them. They’d learned what he needed them to know.
“It’s always preferable to make nice with the locals,” he told them honestly, then turned, letting these guys off the hook. Yeah, he was a SEAL, “instructor” didn’t sit well with him.
Relieved releases of breath made him smile as he left the room. He liked the men he was teaching; he just didn’t want to be teaching them. Nate knew he could better serve the Navy and do what he was meant to do out of the classroom. He rubbed at the muscles above his knee. Soon. He’d be out of here soon.
Besides, none of them had the sexiest woman in San Diego wrap her warm body against them and plant the kind of hot kisses a man usually thought about on long, arduous hikes out in the dessert. In fact, with their training, the men hadn’t talked to the fairer sex in awhile. However, he wasn’t in training. Nothing was holding him back.
Being laid up in Southern California hadn’t been his idea, but like any tactical move, he planned to take advantage of it. He had the whole night ahead of him, and it was no secret SEALs worked best when the sun went down. And he knew just where to find her. Hailey of the Sutherland Hotel.
She was a woman worth missing a party for.
Hoo ya.
HAILEY COULDN’T NAP LONG. Luckily, her sister’s work on their Web site had yielded a booking for the evening, and she needed to be up and ready to help them check in. Like most B&Bs, the Sutherland served a delicious breakfast, but it had become a tradition to serve a light spinach and basil quiche in the afternoon for guests weary from travel and reluctant to fend for food in a strange city. Just one of the small touches that built a hotel’s reputation. Something the management company hadn’t understood.
The guest doorbell rang. The poor thing still sounded rusty. Wiping her hands on the apron protecting her clothes from the food prep, she quickly made her way to the door. Opening it wide, she almost wanted to slam it shut as quickly as she could.
It was him. The SEAL she’d kissed on the beach a few hours ago. Well, of course it was him. She’d just stood there in the kitchen dissing fate and fate obviously didn’t like it. Her payback was a gorgeous man at her doorstep while she looked horrible. Then the nerves kicked in and her heart turned all fluttery.
“I don’t normally walk around wearing this,” she managed, thinking it might work to draw his attention away from the blue and white checked bib-style apron monstrosity. The baby doll blue dyed bias tape was even fraying around the edges.
Yet if someone were keeping track of the absolute stupidest things to tell a man, that would probably make the Top Ten. Why hadn’t he said anything?
His eyes crinkled in the corners, he almost smiled, and it was almost a little too much. Whatever. He hadn’t been invited; anyway, it was his own fault he saw her with her hair lazily knotted on the top of her head with a pencil she’d found in the kitchen. It’s just, why did he have to look so good?
Fate.
His hair, thick with water the last time she saw him, hadn’t revealed its true color brown, with a few strands turned copper, probably from his days under the California sun. But those gray eyes of his, the color of steel were the same, and they burned into her right now.
Yeah…it was still there. That heat, that unyielding attraction that lay between them even before she kissed him, only grew now. Now that he was here in her home looking big and sexy and so, so kissable.
She didn’t need to worry about the stupid apron, apparently he was thinking about that kiss they’d shared, too. The intensity of his eyes as they met hers told her what was on his mind. Her skin
heated, and she felt a flush in her cheeks. His gaze dropped to her lips and she found herself holding her breath.
Her sister charged through the door that led to the laundry, singing a Prince song. Rachel fumbled awkwardly to a stop when she saw them both. “Oh, my God, you’re the…you know, the SEAL.”
“I am,” he said with a nod. Hailey wished she could read his expression. Right now it was agonizingly neutral.
Her sister had never been subtle. Today she was perfecting her art of embarrassingly stating the obvious.
“But you can call me Nate rather than the SEAL.”
Rachel laughed. “Kind of sounds like you should be balancing something on the end of your nose.”
Hailey felt sick to her stomach.
“I’m just kidding. Come in, come in,” invited Rachel. “Not sure why Hailey still has you outside,” she said, flashing her sister a confused look as she rushed to the door. “Welcome to The Sutherland. I’m Rachel, and of course you already know who Hailey is and how she tastes. Can I get you a mojito?”
“A what?” he asked.
Man, he had one sexy voice, Hailey thought. He may have only spoken a few words to her, but that rich baritone was hard to forget. And she’d be strangling her sister later.
“A mojito. Rum, lime, sugar and mint. I’m trying out some recipes. Nothing?” she asked as she ushered him inside and shut the door.
The SEAL shook his head. Actually, to Hailey he gained points by not knowing what the drink was. The three of them stood in the foyer, looking at one another. No one said a thing. If she’d thought her apron remark had been awkward…
“Oh, my gosh,” Rachel exclaimed, her voice overly bright. “Would you look at the time? It’s like, wow, late. Gotta run.”
And being extremely obvious in the process. Actually, Hailey wanted her sister and Nate out of here. Okay, not really.
Since Nate was staring at her, Hailey forced herself not to roll her eyes at her sister’s comment. Although Hailey had a feeling this man didn’t miss much. Rachel had always accused her of becoming like The Terminator when it came to men. She’d automatically run through a list of options and choose which would best annihilate a man’s sense of wanting to stay single.
A woman didn’t get asked for her hand in marriage without knowing a few things.
With the emo guys, it was music. The brainy type always had a sweet spot for all things techno and gadgety. Her experience didn’t run along military lines, but…
She flashed him a small smile. “If you don’t mind, I need to finish up a few things in the kitchen. You do like homemade chocolate chip cookies, right?”
He swallowed.
Got him in one.
Hailey suppressed a groan. It could have been so simple: hear what he had to say, turn down anything if he offered, then send him on his way. Male isolation back in full force. But no, she had to let her curiosity take over, and try to find out his weakness.
Back to the bookstore tomorrow. Surely there was something new on impulse control.
And anyway, the fact that he fell so easily to a little cookie manipulation wasn’t even sporting. Most men loved anything they didn’t have to cook. This man was probably used to that dried powdery stuff you added water to for a meal. Fun on a Girl Scout backyard campout in the third grade, but it’d probably lost its appeal sometime around adulthood.
“I may have some leftover lasagna, too. Actually you’d be doing me a favor by eating it. Leftovers never taste the same to me, and with all the fresh ingredients in the sauce, it would be a shame to leave it wrapped up in the refrigerator.” She may have heard him groan.
He silently followed her down the side corridor to the kitchen.
“This is some contrast from the lobby,” he said.
She nodded, noting the modern appliances and bright efficient lighting. They’d maintained the Victorian feel of the lobby and foyer that reflected The Sutherland’s origin. It still needed a bit more TLC, but she was pretty sure her mother would be pleased. “We take the breakfast part seriously here at The Sutherland B&B, so we needed a good working kitchen. Was that a yes to the lasagna?”
He nodded, and she dished out a healthy serving and graced the side of the plate with buttered garlic bread. “This was my grandmother’s recipe,” she said, and she handed him a fork and napkin embroidered with an S.
His eyes closed in appreciation at the first bite. Thank you grandma. A man with a full stomach was always easier to deal with. He attacked his food like she assumed he handled life, with focus and determination. He ate while she gathered the ingredients for the cookies. With the former men in her life she would have felt obligated to keep up some kind of running conversation. And despite the fact that her thoughts drifted to that kiss he’d ramped up the heat on more than she cared to admit, she was sticking to her no-men plan, and giving herself a break.
It didn’t matter that this guy had an amazing body as evidenced by his skintight wetsuit.
Nope, it wasn’t important that he had the most firm, kissable lips she’d ever seen.
And the fact that he had heroic tendencies to throw on top of all that other good stuff, just to ensure she went a little weak in the knees, meant nothing. Hailey was all about self-improvement, and home improvement, if she counted The Sutherland. Men didn’t factor into either one of those goals. In fact, men usually interfered with a woman’s path to emotional growth.
Hmm, that basecamp food must have been worse than she imagined because he was already done by the time she was rolling little balls of dough. Hailey saved a small amount in the bowl.
“I have a weakness for raw cookie dough. Do you?” she asked.
He nodded and once again she was struck by how handsome he was. He wore just a plain blue polo shirt matched with a pair of khaki shorts, but she enjoyed observing the strength of his bare arms. Tightly muscled, he didn’t have the bulky shape of a body builder, just pure, broad-shouldered strength. It was intimidating.
And thrilling. She was sorely tempted to run her finger along the lines of muscles roping his arms. But those kinds of thoughts led women to playing hide and seek in the sheets.
Hailey pushed the bowl of dough between them, and they both reached inside at the same time, brushing hands. His fingers caught hers, stroked the back of her hand.
“Thank you, Hailey.”
She glanced up, way up, and met his eyes. Steely and completely focused on her. The way he said her name, slowing it down in the middle with a hint of something Midwestern was sexy as hell. And then he smiled and she began to wonder if there was an expiration date on her Fate Delivery Card. Like could she kiss him again right now?
“How long have you been a Navy SEAL?” she asked, ready now to fill the air between them with rambling instead of heat.
“Six years,” he told her, the smile fading from his lips. “Why’d you kiss me, Hailey?” he asked her quietly. If he hadn’t tacked on her name at the end of his question, she could have responded in some glib, flippant way. But how he said her name drew her gaze to his.
“Because I wanted to.” And it was true. From the second Nate emerged from the water she hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him. His power, confidence and the non-aggrandizing way he took care of his buddy intrigued her.
Fiancé Failure Number Two would have been all about pointing to himself. “Hey, look what I just did. I saved that dude’s life.”
Yet Nate had calmly taken care of business and when it was over, he was ready to hit the water again.
His gaze settled on her mouth, and she could almost feel the heat of his lips. Just lean toward him. That’s all she’d have to do, and those lips would be hers once more. No more remembering or imagining a second and a third kiss with him.
But she wouldn’t. This was not the right time in her life to be canoodling with men who dropped out of helicopters for a living. When she did start dating, it would be with someone utterly stable. Like an accountant or insurance agent.
&nb
sp; The timer dinged announcing that the cookies were ready. Saved by the bell. Oh, no, this time she saved herself. Hailey pushed off and away from the counter. Grabbing potholders, she swung open the oven door and pulled out the cookie sheet.
“Glass of milk?” she asked, as she slid the cookies over to the cooling rack.
“Is there any other way to eat cookies?”
With a laugh she opened the refrigerator door. “No, there’s not.” She poured the glasses of milk and served them two cookies each. As she’d done since she was a child, Hailey tore her cookie, loving the way the melted chocolate chip strung between the two halves.
Nate had already wolfed both his cookies down. “Would you like another?” she asked.
He raised an eyebrow. “What kind of question is that?”
So she served him two more cookies.
The mood had lightened between them.
“Why’d you kiss me? Tell me the real reason this time.”
The man knew how to ruin a cookie moment. Suddenly she was back on that beach, feeling his lips take over the kiss she’d started.
“Have you ever heard of Fate Delivery Cards? No, I can see that you haven’t. Actually, I have them right here.” Hailey walked to the desk in the corner of the kitchen where she and her sister planned the meals for the week for The Sutherland. After grabbing the cards, she handed the packet to Nate.
“Don’t wait on fate, jump start your life today.” He read off the front of the package. “I always thought you made your own fate.”
“Oh, me, too. I just went along with it because it was a party game.” Said the woman with fifteen thousand self-help books. “But are you brave enough to take a card?”
“And your card said what? To kiss me?”
She nodded. “Kiss the first man I saw.”
“Lucky me,” he said, and her breath hitched at the sensual tone of his voice.
“Technically, the hurt guy was the first one I saw, but I didn’t think it fair to kiss a defenseless man.”
Something flared dark in Nate’s eyes. “Feel free to kiss me whenever I’m defenseless.”
