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Night Maneuvers

Page 2

by Tawny Weber


  Lila blinked, either at the compliment or over Bryanna remembering her name.

  “Thanks. I like yours, too. I suppose you get compared to a fortune-teller all the time with those long, dark curls.”

  “Usually when I ask someone to cross my palm with silver,” Bryanna said, waving one hand mysteriously over the other with a wicked smile. “You must love working here. It looks like a shopping spree at Hunks R Us in Navy uniforms.”

  She waited for the other woman’s laughter to fade before leaning closer.

  “I hear the bar counts a lot of SEALs among its clientele. I’d think that’d make this a great place to work. You must have some fun stories, hmm?” Elbow on the table, Bryanna planted her chin on her fist and gave the waitress her patented “sharesies” smile. The one that invited whoever she was talking with to spill everything to her welcoming ears.

  Whether she was well trained or simply disinclined to gossip, Lila only offered a shrug.

  “Can I bring you anything else?” She tapped a laminated anchor-shaped menu on the middle of the table. “The red-pepper hummus is seriously delish, or if you’re in the mood for something heavier, the sliders are good tonight.”

  “Hmm, I’m meeting someone, so it’d probably be smarter to wait and see what their preference is.” Bryanna glanced at her watch, then at the menu, then shrugged. Ordering would give her another chance to chat with Lila. She was sure that, sooner or later, she could convince the woman to share a story or three. “But he’s late, so why not? Let’s do the hummus. And another of these fabulous lemonades.”

  “Five minutes,” Lila promised with a smile before hurrying off.

  After a brief thought as to whether her appointment would actually be here by then, Bryanna leaned back in her chair to enjoy the view and the music.

  And saw him.

  Wow.

  Just... Wow.

  Bryanna pursed her lips and blew out a long, slow whistle of appreciation. The man was gorgeous. Tall, dark and handsome didn’t do justice to the power of his looks, the strength of his build or the intensity of his expression.

  Simple jeans and a tee did nothing to detract from his power. She was sure he’d command the same attention in a three-piece suit or a Navy uniform. That he was Navy went without saying. From his shorn hair to the way he carried himself, he shouted military. Powerful military.

  Was this Chief Petty Officer Ward? she wondered.

  Oh please, oh please, oh please, let it be, she chanted under her breath. Her imagination soared at the idea of spending time with this man. Anything from interviewing him to licking her way over his body to having his baby appealed at the moment.

  Bryanna was a firm believer in love at first sight. So much so that she’d spent most of her adult life hoping to experience it. As a deep sigh of longing swelled in her chest, all she could think was wow, this would be the perfect guy to experience it with.

  With every step he took, the man got better looking. As he drew closer, Bryanna searched. But she couldn’t see a single flaw to keep her lust in check.

  Yowza.

  His short, spiked hair was the color of polished oak and his skin a dusky gold, as if he’d spent the weekend on the beach. His body... Oh, his body. Broad shoulders were hugged close by the soft blue cotton of his long-sleeved tee. The shirt molded to a muscular chest, tapering down his slender waist to tuck into jeans draped over tight hips and strong thighs. The glint of a chain around his neck and the smooth leather of his watchband finished the look.

  She suddenly felt overdressed in her black pencil skirt with its ruffled hem and high slit at the calf and her white silk blouse. But when she’d picked out her outfit, she’d been thinking about business. Not about finding her perfect man.

  Mr. Perfect, or Officer Perfect in this case, tapped the waitress on the shoulder. Her stomach did a little dance of delight when Lila gestured toward Bryanna, then it slid into her toes as the man smiled his thanks. Oh, God. What a smile. His entire face lit up.

  Despite sudden, rarely felt nerves, Bryanna got to her feet as he headed her way.

  She could see the interest in his eyes, hot admiration that made her want to preen with delight. More, it made her want to reciprocate. She’d like to skim her hand over those biceps, to squeeze tight and find out if they were as hard, as solid as they appeared. Was his skin warm or cool? Smooth or work-roughened? There were so many questions running through her head that she had to take a second to sort them out.

  Some, the sexy ones that involved wondering how he looked naked, she set aside.

  For now.

  Others, a multitude of others that revolved around her assignment, her career, her goal, those she forced herself to bring front and center. It helped to picture her uncle’s face, that formidable glare of his heavy with expectations. With that, and a deep breath, she was ready.

  Thankfully, Bryanna prided herself on her ability to multitask. So she figured she might find a way to pull a few of those sexier thoughts to the forefront while she worked through the rest. If she found the right opportunity.

  In the meantime, she had a job to do.

  “Ms. Radisson?”

  “Hi, yes. I’m Bryanna. Bryanna Radisson. You must be Aaron, right? Chief Petty Officer Ward? We’re going to talk about all things Navy, SEALs and Poseidon, right?”

  His smile didn’t shift, and she could still see the interest in his eyes. But something in his expression told her that he didn’t want to talk about any of those things. Not because he’d rather discuss the two of them getting naked together—although she was pretty sure he’d be happy to converse about that at length. But because he didn’t want anything to do with her project.

  Why? Bryanna’s easy smile slipped a little. Didn’t he think she was qualified?

  People tended to judge her by her beauty, sultry and exotic, and her personality, bubbly and outgoing. It was rare that anybody bothered to look beyond the sexy packaging or friendly chatter to realize that she was also savvy, smart and ambitious.

  Bryanna never bothered wasting time blaming them. Why, when she could use their shortsightedness to her advantage? Not that she figured it’d be an issue with this man, she decided, her smile widening as she slid her hand into his.

  Her breath caught in her chest, hot and tight. Need coiled in her belly with edgy fingers, wanting more, desiring satisfaction. If he could stir this much heat with simply a touch of their hands, what would happen if they got closer? Nakeder?

  Bryanna felt her smile turn sultry as she gave him a flirtatious once-over.

  “You are Aaron Ward, right? I admire—”

  “Chief Petty Officer, or simply Chief Ward, actually,” he interrupted in a deep voice that did justice to that deliciously broad chest. “That’s my rating, or rank if that’s easier. In the Navy, we’re addressed by our rank.”

  Oh. It wasn’t the words, so much as the tone that sent a spiral of disappointment curling through Bryanna’s belly. He was one of those. Well, she’d dealt with misogynistic chauvinists plenty of times before. Especially in the Navy. Sometimes she wondered if it was an enlistment requirement. It was probably too much to believe that such a gorgeous face and mouthwatering build would come with an open mind, too.

  No big deal. She was here to gather information that’d help her write her article, Bryanna reminded herself. Not to score a hunky new hottie for her very own boy toy.

  With that firmly in the forefront of her mind, she set aside her disappointment and slipped her hand from his, putting a little distance between her and temptation. Sitting again, she smoothed the snug fabric of her skirt over her knees and offered him the smile she used for pushy salespeople and head-patting repairmen. The one that oozed ice-cold pity.

  “Hmm, chief petty officer, did you say? That’d be an E-7 rating, one of the higher ranks an
enlisted man can achieve in the Navy, right? Until they instituted the senior chief and master chief ranks in the late ’50s, of course.” She sipped her frozen lemonade and arched one brow. “Added to that, you’re a SEAL, which affords you the rating of Special Warfare Operator. Assigned to Coronado Naval Base, you serve primarily with SEAL Team 7, which is comprised of six platoons and is deployed worldwide.”

  “You did your homework.” He pulled out the chair opposite hers and sat. But instead of looking impressed, or cowed—which had been her real goal—he smiled. And sent that spiral of heat swirling through Bryanna’s belly again.

  Ignore it, she told herself. Pretend he’s cross-eyed, pockmarked and sin-ugly.

  “No, that wasn’t homework, that was simple knowledge,” she corrected precisely. “A basic understanding of Naval ratings, duty assignments and deployment structure should be a necessary component of the position as a public affairs specialist, don’t you think?”

  “I agree. Unfortunately, those basic qualifications don’t always make the cut when it comes to some things.” Before she could take offense, he smiled and leaned one elbow on the table. “I’m glad to see that’s not true in your case. So, Ms. Bryanna Radisson. Why don’t you tell me all about yourself?”

  Uh-oh. Bryanna blinked as the full wattage of his smile flashed. Like the sun, it was warm and inviting, with just a hint of danger.

  Heroic, sexy and charming?

  If the man had a brain, she was in serious trouble.

  CHAPTER THREE

  WITH HER TUMBLE of curls and those fringed doe eyes, Aaron figured the brunette could be taken for cute. But the wicked arch of her brows, those razor-sharp cheekbones and lips that rested in a sultry pout shifted cute into damned sexy.

  From what he could see, her body matched the promise of that.

  Damn, she was one hell of a package.

  Aaron had thought he’d use calm persuasion, a little charm and maybe even resort to flirtation if he had to. He’d planned to use facts and numbers, duty and allegiance, the safety of the troops and, if that failed, intimidation.

  Charm wasn’t something he had to call on very often, but like any of the rest of the weapons in his arsenal, he knew how to use it when necessary. And it seemed to be necessary right now.

  Aaron had expected smart, although he’d hoped for not. He’d figured she’d be pushy and arrogant, while complacent would have been easier. He’d been ready for a certain amount of self-interested zeal, while a civic-minded openness would have been welcome.

  What he hadn’t prepared for was hot.

  Hot, sexy and appealing.

  Bryanna Radisson was all of that and more.

  After an hour, he knew her to be smart, charming, savvy and clever with the quips. Another hour of sidestepping her subtle attempts to lead the conversation to the military and he realized she had a good-natured dedication to duty that he admired almost as much as he did the sexy sweep of her lashes over those huge dark eyes. She had an exotic look she tried to contain with ladylike clothes but those wild curls and lush curves spoke to him louder than her sedate outfit.

  He knew they were here for a specific reason, but as Lila brought drink after drink, hummus then sliders followed by a molten cake, Aaron continuously shifted the conversation. Finding out as much as he could about her while keeping her off balance, he figured. What he found was an intriguing amount of common ground with an enticing woman he wanted to know better.

  A woman he wanted. A great deal.

  “C’mon, Aaron, let’s talk Navy.” Bryanna leaned forward, her smile washing a hint of delight over him. “You’re a member of Poseidon, a decorated SEAL. I have facts and details, but I’d really like the human factor so I can craft the perfect presentation. I’ll put into words and images the romance and power of your calling.”

  “I’d rather hear more about living in Hawaii. I served there for a few months when I first joined the Navy. Have you lived there your entire life?”

  Bryanna huffed a little breath, but smiled her resignation at his subject change.

  “I lived there since I was ten, and love it. I’m a little homesick already, to be honest. I’m sure I’ll feel more settled once I find a place and all my stuff arrives. Car, clothes, that sort of thing. We can talk more about that, compare our Hawaiian adventures and you can tell me the best places to visit here in Southern California. Later. After we finish this business,” she chided in a tone of gentle stubbornness.

  As clear as footsteps in wet sand, Aaron could see his missteps, his mistakes. Time to switch tactics.

  He knew that he should go for intimidation. He should pull out the facts, lay out the truths of why the work the SEALs did, why their training, their methodology, their strategies needed to remain classified. Not only were men’s lives on the line, but the safety of their nation, of other nations, depended on their work being kept top secret.

  But he couldn’t quite bring himself to get ugly with Bryanna. He wanted her to see his better side. He wanted to laugh with her. To enjoy her. Damned if he didn’t want to get naked and see how well they fit together. And that wasn’t going to happen if he went on the offensive.

  “Want to dance?”

  “We’re supposed to be discussing the talents of the Special Forces,” she reminded him.

  “Dancing might be one of my talents,” he pointed out with a teasing smile. “You want to find out?”

  “Mmm, okay.” Her smile widened, dark eyes sparkling with anticipation. “I have to admit, I’d like to see if you’ve got moves.”

  “But?” he asked, giving voice to her unspoken word.

  “But, much as I’d enjoy finding out if our rhythms match, I’m a little concerned with your reluctance to discuss your work with Poseidon.”

  But not angry, he noted, starting to enjoy himself. Most women he knew leaned toward pissed when they thought a guy was coming at them with an ulterior motive. But Bryanna simply appeared amused.

  “We’ve talked for a good two hours. How do you call that reluctance?”

  “We talked about music. We talked about movies and traveling and our mutual love affair with NASCAR,” she said, tiptoeing her fingers over the back of his hand. “We’ve talked about your dedication to fitness and various foods that aid in building muscle. We’ve even discussed the myriad of Navy bases over the world. But you seem uncomfortable discussing Poseidon.”

  Aaron wasn’t a stupid man. While her tone had been friendly and her easy smile hadn’t changed, he was a SEAL. Expertly trained to recognize traps, extensively skilled at maneuvering around them, exquisitely adept at strategizing his way toward his goal. And his goal was to distract her from the idea of writing about Poseidon until Savino could convince the admiral to deem their team off-limits.

  So he knew better than offering a simple answer.

  Instead, he angled his head to the side, gave her a considering look, then shrugged.

  “I can’t think of any reason to be uncomfortable. This is a great bar, the food and drinks are good, the band decent. You’ve got a job you’re planning to do, I have an assignment I’m going to conclude.” Granted, his assignment was to keep her off their backs and dim as to the reality of Poseidon. But she didn’t know that. “So...? You know how to dance? I’m up for showing you a few steps if you don’t.”

  “You’ll show me...”

  “A few steps. I’m a damned good dancer.”

  Those big brown eyes held his for a long heartbeat, then Bryanna angled her head toward the dance floor.

  “Let’s see if I can keep up with you.”

  “Excellent.” He pushed to his feet, held out one hand.

  Those sultry eyes slid from his toward his hand, then back again. He liked the sassy way she arched one brow, as if asking what the hell he thought he was doing. He figured the
y’d both find out, eventually.

  “Finally,” he said as her fingers slipped into his. “I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you all night.”

  Her laugh rolled over him as her hand tightened around his. As he led her through the crowd to the postage-stamp excuse of a dance floor, he appreciated that the strength in her grip belied her fragile slenderness. Good. He’d do his duty either way, but he’d feel kinda bad about rolling over a delicate blossom.

  He’d still do it, of course.

  But, yeah, he’d feel bad.

  He caught the gleam of calculation in her eyes as she shifted into his arms. Despite the high heels she wore, she was a tiny thing, her profusion of dark curls barely reaching his shoulder.

  Enjoying the way the crowd buffeted their bodies closer together, Aaron released her hand to shift both of his to her hips. Their moves matched, their beat in sync with each other as they smoothly slid into the dance.

  Nice.

  Very nice.

  The band shifted into a reasonable version of “Patience,” giving Aaron his next maneuver. He slid his hands up those hips and skimmed his fingers lightly along her slender waist to pull her closer.

  Warm. She radiated heat. The kind that tingled and tempted. The kind that reached inside him and touched in a way he hadn’t expected. A way he wasn’t sure how he wanted to handle. Yet.

  “You are good,” she commented. The interest in her eyes was vivid and strong.

  “I get even better.”

  “Is that a fact?” Her hips rubbed against his now, sliding, teasing. Her breasts were warm against his chest, pressing and tempting with every step.

  “That, sweetheart, is a promise.”

  Her smile turned as slumberous as the gleam of desire in her eyes.

  Guess he’d found the perfect way to distract her from their little interrogation-slash-interview.

  It wasn’t tidy, and some might not consider it honorable. But he had his orders.

  Aaron always followed orders. Even when they didn’t sit comfortably with his moral center. His call sign wasn’t Bulldog because of his pretty face. He’d earned that nickname through sheer, stubborn persistence and a refusal to ever give up.

 

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