Teasing Her Seal (Uniformly Hot!)

by Anne Marsh

  “Yeah.” Mason curled his hands around her upper arms. Gently, as if he knew just how badly he could hurt her and he was being extra careful. Or maybe she was imagining things. She stared at the door, debating.

  “You know what the Hippocratic Oath is?”

  Mason stared down at her, eyes hooded. “I’m aware of it.”

  “That oath means you need to step aside and let me do my job. Whatever’s wrong with Gray, I can fix him.”

  “Maybe.” Mason looked thoughtful. That had to be a good sign, right? Because the man was almost as impassive as Gray. When he stepped aside, she made a beeline for Gray’s door, throwing it open without knocking.

  The door bounced off someone large and immovable. A second later a hard male body slammed her up against the wall and pinned her in place. Dimly she registered that she’d have bruises tomorrow, but adrenaline spiked, her body amping her up for fight or flight. Heart pounding, she fought to breathe, her fingers scrabbled at the powerful forearm across her throat. When that didn’t work, she kicked out, and the man immediately immobilized her legs with one of his own.

  “Levi. Put her down,” someone snapped. Ashley’s voice, but what would her new girlfriend be doing in Gray’s room?

  Levi dropped her feet to the ground and removed his forearm from her throat. He looked dubious, but at least breathing was now a possibility. She sucked in air for a moment, concentrating on not having a heart attack, and then shoved him out of the way. He let her. They both knew that, but it felt good.

  “Explain.” She snapped the one-word order to Ashley, but she was already moving toward the two men standing by the sink. The room was crowded with too many people for the limited space. She counted Ashley. The Neanderthal who’d pinned her. A second man. And Gray. Oh, my God. Gray.

  Shirtless, Gray strangled the porcelain rim of the sink with his fingers. Blood streaked the bowl and his side. The unfamiliar man crouched beside him, the contents of a medic’s kit strewn across the bed. Her instincts—and possibly her heart—demanded she rush across the room and pull him close. Wrap him up in her arms and promise everything was going to be okay.

  Not helpful.

  Drawing on years of training, she forced herself to perform a quick visual assessment of the wound while she leaned over the sink, soaping up because clearly Gray needed a doctor and not a girlfriend. From here, she could see a long, bloody crease in his side, but without an obvious entrance or exit wound. There was also no visible powder stippling, no telltale spray of gunpowder residue around the injury. He’d likely been fully clothed when he’d been shot, with more than one layer between him and the bullet. He was upright, indicating he’d walked to the room.

  “Tell me what we’ve got.” She grabbed his wrist, checking his pulse while she waited for Gray’s answer. His heart rate was elevated, but that was to be expected.

  “Go back to your room,” he gritted out.

  She ignored him. Typical male. Either he’d injured himself doing something stupid or—more likely, from the looks of his audience—something illegal and dangerous. He didn’t want her to witness this? Too bad.

  She performed a more detailed head-to-toe assessment. Since his pants had no visible tears, his injuries were likely limited to the one bullet wound. It could have been worse than what looked to be a bad graze. She grabbed the paper towel Ashley held out and dried her hands off.

  “I’m a doctor. Switch,” she ordered.

  The guy performing first aid hesitated. “Sam Nale. Combat medic.”

  She almost snarled at him, but then her training took over. This wasn’t Gray. It was a gunshot victim.

  “Step out and let me take over.” Switching places with the medic, she got her first closer look at the injury. “Bullet creased the left side. Close range. Do you have a local anesthetic?”

  Sam nodded. “I’ve got a regional.”

  “Shoot him up and I’ll finish cleaning it out before I stitch it up.”

  “No drugs,” Gray gritted out. “This is—”

  “Don’t say it’s just a scratch,” she said. “Because try walking around with an open wound in the tropics and see what happens. I guarantee you won’t enjoy it.”

  He shut up, then Ashley snorted. “He’s a guy. You can cut his leg off and he’ll still say he’s fine.”

  She probed the injury carefully. “Do you know the make of gun?”

  “Why?” Levi leaned in, watching her more closely than a first-time dad at a birth as she began to irrigate the wound. Gray’s breath hissed through his teeth and she laid a gentle, calming hand on his back.

  “Professional curiosity? It could also be because I’m weighing the odds of the bullet having fragmented. In which case, I’m going to have to do some digging to make sure we’re completely clean here.”

  Ashley exchanged looks with Levi. Clearly deciding how much to share, but that was okay. Sutures, she decided, finally satisfied the raw crease in Gray’s side was as clean as she could get it. He also needed a course of antibiotics.

  “A semiautomatic.” Gray didn’t flinch as she set the first stitch.

  She whistled. “That’s not standard resort wear.”

  “Nope.” He didn’t volunteer any more information, though.

  “You might as well tell her,” Ashley said from the bed.

  “Or we can assume that I’ve already correctly guessed you’re not a masseuse.” She taped the dressing over the wound site.

  “It’s not all I am.”

  Objectively, she’d known the moment she walked into his room that he’d been keeping secrets. Apparently, practice didn’t make the familiar, sick sense of betrayal any easier to swallow, though. Harlan had tried various excuses for his infidelity. Eventually, he’d settled on the it was just a fantasy story. On the one hand, Gray didn’t owe her anything. She hadn’t needed to know that the US Military was at work on Fantasy Island. On the other hand, she’d had every right to know that her lover wasn’t who she thought he was.

  “Don’t split hairs with me.”

  “I’m also SEAL Lieutenant Commander Gray Jackson.”

  Part of her, the part that wasn’t busy being Doctor Laney Parker, realized she hadn’t known his last name. She’d had sex with this man without knowing his name. She wasn’t sure what that said about her, but that was something to worry about later. When he wasn’t bleeding. “You’re here on an operation.” It explained a lot.

  “I can’t tell you the details.”

  “Then give me the big picture.” Surely he owed her that much for the patch job.

  “We got word that Fantasy Island was expecting a particular guest. A guest that Uncle Sam has an interest in.”

  “Will that guest be checking in today?”

  He eyed her. “Not anymore.”

  “Should I be expecting additional patients?”

  He shook his head and straightened up. Slowly. His color wasn’t ideal, but it had improved. “As soon as the weather clears, we’ll get you off the island.”

  Figured. He left or she left. That was the story of her life.

  “Am I in danger?” Risking her life would be stupid.

  He exhaled harshly. “Not if you take orders and stay put.”

  “Fun times for me.”

  “As soon as the weather clears, we can get you off the island.”

  “Offer noted.” But she wasn’t sure she wanted to leave. “Keep the wound clean and dry. No swimming, no strenuous activity, so keep covert assaults to the minimum. After twenty-four hours, you can remove the bandage and wash the area with soap and water.” She leveled him with a look. “Spread an antibiotic ointment over the site and reapply the bandage. I’m also putting you on a course of oral antibiotics.”

  “Yes, Doctor.” This time his voice held a thread of amusement. The bastard was feeling better. “But that’s a pass on the painkillers.”

  Of course. Because he was Superman and impervious to pain.

  Knowing he was a rough-and-tough SEAL exp
lained his dominant side, but it also meant she’d never been in charge of their relationship. He’d been in control from day one, both in bed and out. The smart part of her demanded an immediate evacuation of the island—her fiancé had certainly taught her the dangers of men who wouldn’t open up and share—but another part of her wanted more. More Gray, more pleasure and a chance to explore the darker side of passion...

  Sam rose to his feet, packing up his kit and disposing of the used gauze in a plastic bag. “Take it easy, okay? You don’t have to save the world singlehandedly this morning. It can wait until tomorrow or next week.”

  Naturally, Gray didn’t say anything. He was Mr. Stoic, keeping his feelings to himself. She got that he was no fan of opening up, but she needed words from him.

  “Here’s a hint,” she said in a clipped voice. “We’re having a conversation. I say something. You say something. It works like tennis or ping-pong.”

  “Or tossing a live hand grenade back and forth,” Levi added helpfully.

  Gray cursed. “There are things I can’t talk about.”

  No kidding. “If you tell me this is one of those things, I might scream.”

  “Fair warning.” He looked around the room at their audience. “Out.”

  Her nipples tightened at the command in his voice as everyone else jumped to obey. Staying professional with this man was impossible.

  “I expected details,” Ashley said, brushing past her and making for the door.

  “Only if I’m still talking to you.”

  Ashley clearly had a double life, too, and Laney wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

  “Point taken.” The other woman patted her on the arm. “But we’re friends, so I’m holding out hope for a conversation later today.”

  Levi paused, hand on the door. “Sorry about the chokehold.”

  “No worries.” She’d send him the therapy bills.

  Levi, Mason and Gray had some kind of unspoken guy exchange among the three of them involving pointed looks and head nods. Whatever. Levi and Mason left, leaving her alone with Gray. Finally. She snapped off her gloves and tossed them in the trash.

  “Is this the part where you tell me you have to kill me if I talk?”

  He gave her The Look. Too bad. She wasn’t backing down on this one. God. How could she have been so stupid? She might not have the best track record with men, but she knew Gray wouldn’t hurt her. Of course, she was also rethinking what she knew about him. He was a soldier and a covert operative. He did things—secret, really important things—where people got hurt. Staying pissed off at him was petty. She could admit that to herself, because it was also personal. She’d always been good at imagining an intimate connection where there was none. Case in point: Harlan.

  “No. This is the part where I say thank you.” He reached out and brushed the hair off her cheek. The desire rising up in her was both unexpected and irritating. He’d lied to her. She was unofficially his doctor. Either was a good reason to give him the cold shoulder, but her body apparently had other plans. Before she could give in to the urge to nuzzle the big hand cupping her cheek, she stepped away from him—not that she had much space to go far because the room was too damned small—and scrubbed her hands in the sink again.

  Naturally, he followed her. “You’re not into thank-yous?”

  Tired of his games, she whirled and thrust a hand against his chest. “Back it up and answer one question for me. Was the sex just another lie?”

  * * *

  TERRIFIC. LANEY PARKER was pissed as hell. It was kind of cute, although he was beyond certain that he’d lose his balls if he told her that. He also owed her big-time for sewing him up. Sam did his best, but a field medic was no match for a skilled trauma surgeon. So he was definitely telling her thank you, whether she liked it or not. And apparently, thanking her included answering her questions.

  He braced his palm on the wall beside her head. Not because he was going for the sexy but because, damn it, he was feeling lightheaded and he needed the support. If he passed out and landed on her, he’d either squash her flat or make more work for her. “I should say thank you for the sex, too.”

  “Answer me.” She poked him in the chest again. “Was Mr. Big, Bad Biker SEAL taking undercover to a whole new level?”

  “The sex was not an act.”

  “Uncle Sam doesn’t hire his boys out?”

  Hell, no. He would have thought that was obvious, but the answer clearly mattered to her. “I wanted to have sex with you.”

  Wait. That didn’t sound right.

  She dug her finger into his chest again. He was going to have permanent divots there.

  “You told me you worked here. You let me proposition you.”

  Definitely pissed off. But from the get-go, he’d made it clear he wasn’t a nice guy. And, hell, she’d seemed to enjoy it, at least in bed. Unfortunately, when he leaned in a little more, he staggered and she busted him.

  “Sit.” She pointed to the bed. “Before you fall over and I have to patch something else up.”

  He sat. Guess he could take orders, after all.

  “Is that what you do on all of your undercover missions? Hook up with the locals?”

  “Do I need a lawyer?” he asked, his lips quirking.

  “As in anything you say can and will be used against you?”

  “A heads-up would be appreciated, yeah.”

  She sank onto the bed beside him. “Fair warning. I’ve been known to hold a grudge, and it’s been one hell of a day.”

  He knew that feeling. He had a twin bed, a sink and his duffel bag underneath the bed. He needed a shower, a change of clothes and about forty-eight hours of shut-eye because he was running on empty and his side hurt like a bitch. Still, he was shocked by the uncharacteristic need to pull her down on the bed with him, to wrap himself around her and just sleep.

  “So. About our fantasy...”

  Our. “Yeah? What about it?”

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  Oh, boy. What was it with this need she had to post-mortem everything?

  “Of course.” That was the only right answer and they both knew it. That it happened to be true was a bonus. “You did, too.”

  His words weren’t a question. He’d been there. He’d felt her coming, squeezing his dick as she called his name. So he could tell she’d enjoyed herself in the moment. Afterward, though, well, that might have been a different story. He knew all about sex and regrets. And he knew another thing, too. She didn’t want to hear about the emptiness inside him, the way he used sex to fill that void. Bottom line? He was a guy attracted to a gorgeous woman with some really hot secret desires.

  And because he’d not only bled all over her but lied to her about who he was and why he was on Fantasy Island, he’d be lucky if she shared any more of those desires with him. Although he wanted her to. Badly. Because Laney Parker was fast becoming his very own fantasy.

  “I thought we were getting to know each other,” she said in a hurt tone, then stood up, heading for the door. She didn’t wait for his answer before stepping outside and closing the door behind her. But then it hadn’t really been a question, had it? He wasn’t the man she’d thought he was.

  10

  WHEN LANEY SLIPPED out of the room, blinking back angry tears, she found Ashley waiting in the hall. There was no visible sign of Mason, although she suspected he hadn’t gone far. His absence was too bad—part of her still wanted to kick the man—hard—for letting her walk into Gray’s room blind. Her back hurt from Levi’s up-against-the-wall routine.

  Ashley fell into step beside her. “I’ll walk you back to your bungalow.”

  “Afraid I’ll get lost?” She’d thought she and Ashley were on their way to becoming friends, but apparently, she’d misread the situation. Whoever this woman was, Laney was willing to bet she hadn’t won her tickets to Fantasy Island in a radio contest.

  The bigger question was, who was Gray to her? He’d said he was a lieutenant commande
r and a US Navy SEAL. He’d been injured—in the line of duty—and the other people in the room had to be his team members or people in the know.

  “Are you a SEAL, too?”

  Ashley made a face. “No girls allowed on the boys’ team.”

  “Then I’m guessing you’re some other branch of the military.”

  “Close.” Ashley followed her when she started up the path. “I’m DEA.”

  Wow. Not what she was thinking. It was really none of her business who Ashley worked for, except that she had led her to believe that Ashley was just another resort guest. Or maybe she was being oversensitive.

  “Does Madeline know?”

  Ashley shook her head. “And I’d appreciate it if you kept it that way. The fewer people who know, the better.”

  Honestly, she didn’t know anyone who would believe her. Even Madeline was going to demand proof.

  “You set me up with Gray. Was that part of the cover story?”

  She didn’t enjoy feeling stupid. Or gullible. In fact, both of those unpleasant emotions ranked at the top of her feelings-to-avoid-at-all-costs list. Gray had been her rebound man, a fun treat for herself. Sure, she hadn’t been looking for something permanent, but somehow she’d expected honesty. Maybe Gray was just really, really good at covert ops, because she’d believed him when he’d said he wanted her.

  So, okay, she’d fallen just a little bit for him.

  Ashley jammed her hands into her pockets. It was hard to imagine her as some kind of cutthroat DEA agent when Laney looked at the Daisy Dukes and pink flip-flops, but her fierce intelligence and ability to think on her feet? She had to respect that. She would have made a fantastic trauma surgeon.

  “I’m going to be blunt, okay?”

  Right. As if Ashley had ever been anything but. “You’ve been holding back on me?”

  “Only about my job description.” Ashley strode up the path, flip-flops snapping against her heels. “Here’s the thing. I like you. I like Gray. He’s uptight and closed off and his idea of a fun time seems to involve motorcycles, biker bars and any fight that ends with broken beer bottles, but he’s a great guy. You were looking for a rebound guy for some no-holds-barred sex, and I thought the two of you would be good for each other.”