“Wait a minute. I thought SEALs were stationed in California and Virginia?”
“We pop up in a lot of unexpected places,” he said.
“I’ll bet you do. And how will you pull this off?” she asked.
“How will we pull this off, is the bigger question? Because your parents think I’m your significant other, and you didn’t tell them I’m not.”
“You went along with it.”
“You seemed a little desperate.”
“Why are you doing this?” Why wasn’t he letting go of her hand?
“I want to know what happens at the end.”
He obviously wasn’t aware that the fantasy was always better than the reality. The problem was that the two had, moments ago, collided head-on, and she was caught inside the wave, while he’d aced her with a total 360, leaving her nowhere to bail.
In a surfer’s world that signaled a potential wipe-out. It was definitely time to kick out of this man’s wave. “You go home, and I have to tell my parents you’re not my boyfriend.” She took her hand back from his and immediately missed the contact.
“I’m nobody’s boyfriend, Carly. But I wasn’t talking about after dessert. I was talking about the end of this fantasy.” Hunt smiled a wide, wicked grin and winked, then he sauntered past her into the house. “I hope you made my favorite, honey,” he said loudly. “Because I’m in the mood for some sugar.”
3
SUGAR HAD BEEN THE first thing on his mind, too. Maybe that could finally put some of the pieces of this puzzle together.
Maybe he could get Carly to reveal more of her fantasy, although he’d finished it off a dozen different ways in his mind already.It had been a long drive, and the steady hum of the bike vibrating between his legs made the highway one long pre-orgasmic stretch.
Now, he forced himself to tamp down the enthusiastic buzz as he sat across the table from Sheila and Carl Winters. He’d recognized their names immediately when he’d seen them on the list. They were upper high society in the small Vero Beach community, always making the papers for one thing or another.
Carly Winters was one interesting lady even without the fax. And, from the strained look on her face, he had to guess that the erotic fax thing wouldn’t go over well with this set.
How he’d suddenly become the long-lost boyfriend was anybody’s guess.
“So Hunt, are you a Marine?”
He fought the urge to yell, hell no, and instead said calmly, “No, ma’am. I’m a Navy SEAL.”
“Would you mind my asking what a SEAL is?”
He smiled at Sheila Winters, because at least that answer was easy. “We’re part of the Special Operations division. SEAL is an acronym for sea, air and land. Although we’re primarily known for our water ability we can pretty much handle any assignment, regardless of the terrain. We’re Navy and we work in small teams.”
“So you’ve probably traveled all over the world.”
To crapholes you haven’t even dreamed of visiting. “Yes, ma’am, although I can’t say much more than that. All of our missions are classified.”
“Well, is how you and Carly met classified information?” Sheila asked him, a tiny smile on her face. From behind her parents, Carly smirked at him as she brought the coconut cake to the table in the center of the large kitchen.
He raised his eyebrows and she jumped in hurriedly. “At the beach. We met at the beach.”
Safe enough answer. Safer than the truth, and he could work with it.
“Was it at one of her competitions?” Carl Winters asked.
“Oh, Carl, please. Do we have to discuss that? I’m so happy she’s not doing that surfing thing anymore. I was always so worried about her.”
He’d seen two longboards propped up outside the house. And suddenly, he remembered where he’d seen Carly Winters. The local paper had run a lengthy article on her a few months back when he’d been in town for training and when she’d retired her pro-surfing status.
Wow. “Unfortunately, I didn’t get to see her in action,” he said, watching the blush spread across her cheeks again. He could think of a lot better ways to make her blush.
“She had a good career,” Carl said. “I have some old tapes I could lend you that show her competing.”
“That’d be great. From what I hear, she was amazing to watch.”
Carly threw him a strange look, somewhere between appreciation and pain. He pictured her in a bikini, riding the hell out of a wave along the swells of the ocean. Had to be a thing of beauty.
A SEAL and a surfer. There were worse combinations, and this particular one could prove to be a hell of a ride.
“She was a wonderful surfer,” Carl agreed.
Sheila changed the subject with a wave of her hand to her husband. “So, how long have you two been seeing each other?”
“Six months,” Hunt answered, figuring a nice, even number was the way to go. Besides, if he’d guessed wrong, it would be okay. Guys were supposed to screw up stuff like anniversaries and birthdays.
“So you met before she moved back here, then.”
Ah, screwed that one up. Still, he nodded, mind firmly set in interrogation mode. They didn’t need to know he wasn’t permanently stationed around here.
“Yes. He was training in Hawaii,” Carly said. And that made sense. Surfing. Hawaii.
“And you’ve been traveling, Carolyn tells us,” Sheila Winters continued.
Sounds about right…. “Yes. I’ve been overseas, so I’m looking forward to spending more time with Carly.” Where was this stuff coming from? Maybe he had an acting career after his SEAL stint?
“And he’s back just in time for the wedding,” Carly added.
Whoa. Wedding? Hell, he’d do anything for his country, and obviously a lot to help out and help himself to a beautiful stranger, but no how, no way was he getting roped into marriage. Suddenly, the kitchen shrank to the size of a cell and a strong survival urge kicked in. He was telling himself to get out, hit the open road and rock on.
Although the thought of tossing the surfer over his shoulder, before giving her parents the peace out, didn’t seem too bad.
THE WEDDING QUESTION HAD stopped him cold. Nice to know the thought of commitment could bring even a tough-guy, Navy SEAL to his knees.
Carly should’ve let him choke, but she needed him. This had gone too far, and she didn’t want to look like a bigger fool than she already was. “You remember, I told you my sister’s getting married, right?” She gave him a look with a raise of her eyebrows as she slid the plate in front of him. “The wedding’s in two weeks.”“Right. I must’ve forgotten,” he said, and took a bite of the cake.
“I’m sure you had many other things on your mind while you were away.” Her mother took a demure sip of coffee and pushed her cake away after only a cursory bite.
This was a way for Carly to get her parents off her back. She could show up at the wedding alone, claim a last minute breakup. By then, it would be too late to pair her with Evan, and hopefully, he’d have his own date.
“There’s a party we’re throwing next week, and then there’s the rehearsal dinner, too. I need to tell the chef if we’re expecting another person, you understand,” her mother explained.
This wasn’t happening. There wasn’t enough coconut therapy in the world to help Carly now.
“Yes, I do.” Hunt finished his piece of cake and slung an arm around her shoulders. His closeness was comforting, like a protective shield. “I’m actually on partial duty for the next month, so my schedule’s pretty light.”
And it was getting worse by the second, like a complete train wreck she couldn’t do a thing to stop. Like it was happening in somebody else’s life, not hers, and she’d wake up to find out this was all a strange dream. A strange dream that included a dark blond, green-eyed, handsome man, who made her toes curl every time she looked at him.
She crossed her arms in front of her and he looked at her as if he could read her mind.
&nb
sp; Then again, he didn’t need to. She’d written it all out on paper.
“So you’re coming to the wedding, then?” her mother repeated.
“Wouldn’t miss it. I don’t like disappointing Carly,” Hunt said, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
She could imagine what was going through her mother’s mind right now. Organizing a charity event for the military was one thing, but having her eldest daughter bring a Navy SEAL to a family wedding was quite another, especially when said daughter was supposed to have her hand spoken for.
It almost made up for the fact that later on, Carly would have to explain this whole thing to Hunt. She was going to owe him big-time, and she had a sneaking suspicion about what he’d want for payment.
“Sheila, we should go and leave these kids alone. I’m sure they don’t want us hanging around.” Her father stood to leave and Hunt stood as well.
“Please don’t leave on my account.”
“We’ve got a drive ahead of us back to Vero,” her mother said. “We’ll see you both on the sixteenth for the party.”
They’d see her there, but she and Hunt would be long broken up by then, because this was a big mistake. Or maybe they’d be visiting her in a military prison reserved for erotic-fantasy writers. Either way, she was screwed.
She walked her parents to the door.
“Dinner was lovely, Carolyn. And Hunt seems like a very nice young man.” Her mother gave her a quick peck on the cheek and Carly wondered if Hunt had ever been called a very nice young man. “You will have to let Evan know about your change of plans. Perhaps he’ll realize he’s got to work a little harder to get through to you.”
Useless to argue. Obviously, Hunt’s powers of mind control only worked during direct contact. “I’ll talk to Evan. And I’ll see you guys next week.” Carly gave a quick wave as they got into their car and backed out of the driveway.
When she returned she found Hunt comfortably ensconced on her sofa, flipping through a surfing magazine. He’d kicked off his flip-flops, which didn’t look as if they belonged to any official Navy uniform, and his cell phone and beeper were strewn on her coffee table. He’d also cut himself a second piece of coconut cake and poured another cup of coffee. He appeared to be camping out for a while.
Meaning it was time for her to decide how far to take this situation. “Look, I don’t know why you did what you did—”
“Think they bought it?” he interrupted, and she found herself staring at him again. He was so handsome. Quickly, a dozen different fantasies, all involving Hunt and his uniform and a nice hot game of “Yes, ma’am” seemed like a great way to pass the night.
But it was a fantasy that had gotten her into this particular mess to start with. “Yes, they did buy it. Now, I’ll have to think up some excuse as to why you won’t be attending any Winters family functions. What were you thinking?”
“You started it. You were the one who sent me the fantasy.”
“I didn’t send you any fantasy. I told you, it was a mistake.” A giant, horrifically embarrassing mistake.
“I like a woman who knows what she wants.” His voice dropped an octave as his gaze swept over her. “And you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.”
“Are you going to turn that document in?”
“No, I’m not,” he replied, and she breathed a sigh of relief as he handed it to her, along with the guest lists.
“Well, thanks. And thanks for trying to help tonight. I didn’t mean to pull you into this.”
“Looks like you owe me,” he told her, watching her with that I’ve-got-plans-for-you gaze.
“The cake wasn’t enough?”
“Not nearly enough.” He’d abandoned the coffee as he stood, stretched and stared at her appreciatively. On any other guy, it would’ve been obscene. On him, it made her want to take off her clothes. Or better yet, let him take them off. Slowly.
“We just met, Hunt. I don’t even know you,” she said, as more of a reminder to herself than anything.
“I’m an open book,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, and Carly thought about asking him to reveal one of his fantasies, so that they’d be on a level playing field. “It’s not like we had a date or anything,” she continued, realizing he didn’t need any more ammunition than what he already had on her. He didn’t seem the type who’d have any problem spilling his fantasies. Fantasies involving his removing that T-shirt and letting her check out what she was sure was the best chest she’d ever seen, which probably had a light dusting of blond hair leading down to his…
“You don’t seem like a woman who’d get caught up in conventions. And I am invited to the wedding.” He grinned, and she wondered if this man could indeed read minds.
Carly narrowed her eyes. “And what’s in this for you?”
“I already told you. I want to know how the fantasy ends.” Hunt moved closer, and she wanted to walk away, to tell him to go right out her front door and not come back, but she couldn’t. Her feet remained rooted in place as he stood inches from her, and tension crackled the air between them.
What was in that coconut cake? Aphrodisiac therapy. Coconut covered SEAL.
She needed to get a grip.
But the memory of what she’d written was almost too much to bear, and the thought of putting it to practice, and putting Hunt to the test, was making her hot.
His scent reminded her of the beach in the early morning, so full of promise, hinting of sunshine and ideal waves. It was her favorite smell and a longing echoed inside of her. It would be so easy to kiss him, to make her fantasy come true. There was nothing stopping her from stripping off her clothes and having Hunt press his body against hers, letting him take her against the couch, or on the floor, or anywhere else he wanted to.
It would be the easiest thing.
He remained close to her, his lips parted in a seductive smile before he spoke. “Are you going to tell me how it ends? Or do you want me to show you first how I’d finish it?”
4
HE DIDN’T WAIT TO HEAR her answer before he brought his mouth down on hers. It was a slow, warm kiss that threatened to turn into something molten. Hunt’s hands were in her hair. Carly’s hands were fisted against his chest, unsure if they were there to pull him closer or push him away.
She had an open invitation to show him how she’d end it, any way she wanted. Who could pass that up?Choosing the road less taken, Carly knew she’d regret it one way or another. She pulled back, breaking the kiss without finesse.
His smile was wider than it had been before. His green eyes slightly more golden, and his thick blond hair begged for her to thread her hands in it. She knew taking him to bed was the only right thing to do. “I think you need to leave, Hunt,” she said.
“I don’t think you mean that.”
Of course she didn’t, but it had taken every ounce of strength to stop and still have a coherent thought. He tasted like coconut. He tasted delicious and he kissed her the way someone who knew how to kiss should. He should teach courses in kissing, because that’s how good it was. Over the falls paled in comparison.
She didn’t need any more distractions.
He stepped back and released her, but made no move to leave. “So tell me again why a professional surfer girl is faxing erotic fantasies to strangers.”
“Former pro surfer girl,” she corrected. “And I told you. I was helping out a friend.”
“Right, a friend. So where did this idea for the fax come from, anyway?”
She thought for a second about not telling him, and then figured he might as well know the whole truth rather than continue thinking she was plain crazy.
Carly dug out the magazine from the pile next to her couch and handed it to him. He read for a minute in silence and she got a chance to stare at him a little more. Because there was something about this man in uniform that made her tingle.
“So you needed to spice up your sex life?” he asked finally.
“I told you, it wasn’t
for me. My friend needed to spice up hers. I was giving her a start with the fantasy.”
“And how did things work out for your friend?”
“I’ll find out in the morning,” she said, smiling.
“Candy Valentine’s a good name, but it sounds like a stripper. Is that part of your fantasy?”
“I’m sure it’s part of yours.”
“Oh, yeah. That would work.” He eyed the matching decorative columns that ran, floor to ceiling, in her living room.
Oh boy.
“These are really cool,” he said. He’d moved into an alcove, scanning the pictures she’d hung there. Most of them were photos of her having just come off a ride, and a few boasted her on the covers of some surfing magazines, one of them a national publication. She’d debated not hanging them up at all, but hoped having that daily public reminder would inspire her to get better. Fixed. Something.
Seeing a therapist was the next step. She didn’t want it to have to come to that. Admitting the problem had been hard enough.
Admitting the problem to her parents was something she didn’t plan on doing, period. And really, she could easily back out of her mother’s upcoming charity event by citing pain. There were plenty of other surfers and body boarders participating. Some recognizable names were giving their time to raise money for spinal cord injury research. But she’d booked herself as one of the attractions because her pride wouldn’t let her do otherwise. She still held out more than a spark of hope that she could give an impromptu, two-minute ride on a longboard, and influence some girl the way she’d been influenced so many years ago. And now, two weeks and counting, she couldn’t make it mid-beach, never mind into the water. She had her strength back, and enough flexibility to let her give a decent ride.
“Where’d you learn to surf?” Hunt asked, pulling her from her reverie. She realized she been fisting her hands so tightly that her nails had left marks in her palms. She straightened her hands and rubbed them against each other as she spoke.
Coming Undone Page 3
