by Lynn Cooper
Honeybun Hottie
Lynn Cooper
Copyright © 2015 Lynn Cooper
All rights reserved.
You’re going to be fine. Trust me.
—Sean Warrington
ANOTHER SCHOOL YEAR HAD come to a close, and Blythe Dalton was more than ready for summer break. She loved being a counselor at Langston High School located in the heart of Langston, South Carolina. But she longed for those lazy, sweet days of vacation. The luxury of reading past midnight then sleeping until noon. Carefree hours of relaxing by the pool, watching movies or doing absolutely nothing at all. Yep, her plans were made with a singular goal in mind—peace and quiet that could only come from being alone. No screaming teenagers, no hectic schedules, and definitely no blind dates. Just her, a stack of books, plenty of DVD’s and a large pitcher of margaritas.
In the spirit of no time like the present, Blythe kicked back in her chaise lounge with a book in one hand and a honeybun in the other. The first bite of the delectable pastry made her moan aloud. When the sweet, sugary glaze coated her lips, it was a slice of heaven on earth. The soft, cinnamon-laced dough tickled her tongue, melting in her mouth, bringing her taste buds pleasure of an orgasmic magnitude. Lost in the rich textures and flavor of her favorite dessert, she barely heard her cell phone ring.
Peeking at the caller ID, she couldn’t help but smile. It was Shelly Matthews. She and Blythe had been best friends since the third grade. When they both landed jobs in the same school district, they were ecstatic. Shelly was the art teacher at Langston Middle School. It was only a quarter of a mile from the high school, so she and Blythe had lunch together every day.
Both of them were twenty-eight years old and single, but that didn’t stop Shelly from playing matchmaker. She had made it her personal mission to find the perfect man for her best friend. So far all of her efforts had been disastrous. Blythe had been extremely patient and had even found Shelly’s modern-day rendition of The Dating Game to be amusing. But now she was tired of playing and needed a break. Knowing she was going to get one made her smile. Shelly would be in Mississippi for a long-awaited family reunion, and Blythe was going to enjoy the solitude of a stress-free staycation—as in stay at home.
The second she flipped her phone open, Shelly’s bubbly voice burst forth. “Whatcha doing?”
“Rocking my vacation like a boss. You heard me. I’m laid back in my lounger, reading, eating the freshest, gooiest honeybun ever! How’s the reunion going?”
“Going, going, gone. The Matthews are not a peaceful people. My mom and her sisters decided now would be a great time to reignite a decade-old family feud. The spark led to name-calling and hair-pulling. After a good snoot full, my dad and his brothers ended the evening in fisticuffs. So, long story short, I’m headed your way.”
Blythe let her head fall forward in defeat. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend time with her bestie. It was more like she had already wrapped her head around being alone. And quite frankly, the idea appealed to her even more than she had previously realized.
“Sure. What’s your estimated time of arrival, my lady? I’ve got an ice-cold pitcher of Margaritas in the fridge, and I can throw some burgers on the grill.”
“Actually, I was hoping we could grab a bite on the road. Pack your bags, girlie. You and I are headed to Lake Hartwell.”
Blythe groaned, shaking her head into the phone. “Wait a dib-dab minute. I’m not going anywhere. This is my staycation, and I am staying right here poolside.”
She could hear Shelly huffing and puffing on the other end of the line. Her friend wasn’t going to give up, but Blythe wasn’t going to give in either.
“If it’s water you’re after, there’s plenty in the lake. P-l-e-a-s-e don’t say no! Come with me, Bly. I can’t spend two weeks at summer camp without you.”
“I’m not just saying no, I’m saying hell-to-the no! Have you lost your mind, Shelly? Why would I trade the crystal-blue, clear-chlorinated water of my pool for an algae-covered, mosquito-infested lake?”
“You know why. I didn’t want to pull the I-saved-your-life card, but you’ve left me no choice, Miss Dalton.”
Blythe rolled her eyes. Anytime she was determined to say no to Shelly, and anytime Shelly was determined to get her way, it always came back to their infamous walk to the library. They had just graduated from the sixth-grade and were feeling their pre-teen oats. So, when Shelly’s absent-minded Aunt Patsy didn’t show up to drive them downtown, the two girls decided to walk.
With their shoulders held back proudly, they had traversed the sidewalk through the middle of town. As they were getting ready to cross the street, a squirrel dashed in front of them, causing Blythe to trip. Consequently, she stumbled into the path of an oncoming car. A second before she would have been struck, Shelly lunged forward and shoved Blythe to safety. In the process, Shelly twisted her ankle so badly, it snapped her fibula. She spent eight weeks with her foot in a cast.
“Shelly, I’m pretty sure I’ve made that incident up to you about a cajillion times over the years. I’d say we’re even now.”
“We will be after this one last thing. I promise. Please, Blythe—pretty please with pancake syrup on top.”
“Oh, for land’s sake, alright. But this is it Shelly! We’re square. Got it?”
Shelly’s high-pitched squeals of excitement had most assuredly cracked Blythe’s cochlea. True, she was seeking a summer of quietness, but not in the form of deafness.
“Got it. You want regret this, Bly. I have it on good authority from Sean that our cabin by the lake is primo. We are going to have so much fun!”
“Hold the phone. Sean? As in Corporal Warrington? The arrogant, testosterone-oozing marine you set me up with three months ago?”
Blythe tore off another bite of honeybun with her teeth, ferociously chewing it like a lion ripping into a gazelle. Shelly could be so damn maddening at times. Especially when she meddled in another person’s love life—or lack of one.
“First, Sean is a sergeant now. Second, he really needs us, Bly. He’s short-staffed and will have to cancel Camp Semper Fi’s first session of the season if we don’t come through for him. It’ll be great. I promise. Besides, I’ve already signed us up. You’re his counselor, and I’m the arts and crafts coordinator. Yay!”
“No. No yay. I’m not going to be his anything, because I’m not going.” The last thing Blythe wanted was to see the tall, dark and ruggedly handsome marine—the hotter than Haiti’s hunk who had left her splayed out in the mud, speechless and mortified.
“You’ve already agreed. No takesies backsies.”
Blythe squeezed the remainder of her pastry so hard it squished between her fingers, which made her even madder. There was nothing so devastating as the destruction of delicious doughy goodness.
“Fine. I’m nothing if not a woman of my word. But write this down in your notebook, and then write it down again, sister—we are even!”
KNIFING HIS FINGERS THROUGH his thick, black hair for the umpteenth time, Sergeant Sean Warrington continued pacing the length of the dock in front of his cabin. Despite the worst case of nerves he’d ever had, the hypnotic ripples of Lake Hartwell succeeded in bringing him a modicum of tranquility. But it was a peace that would be short-lived. Once he laid eyes on her again, all bets of serenity, maybe even civility were off.
His chest swelled with pride as he looked out over the scenic expanse. This place was his. Bought and paid for with the blood, sweat and tears he had shed on dangerous foreign soils. He was the finest SOCS—Special Operations Capabilities Specialist in the United States Marine Corps. So fine, in fact, that the biggest, baddest terrorist in all of ISI
S—Ahsan Kahlaf—had put a bounty on Sean’s head. Kahlaf had sent one his top-secret operatives to the United States three months ago to take Sean out. The attempt on his life happened the very evening he had gone on the best date in the history of dates with the sexiest, most breathtaking woman in the whole world.
That night seemed like a lifetime ago. Since then, he had let his crewcut grow out. Still, there was no mistaking him for a civilian; his daily attire was a traditional Marine Corps combat utility uniform, minus any of the accoutrements. Here at Camp Semper Fi everyone knew Sean was in charge. There was no need for rank insignias, medals of valor or any other symbols representing his strength, power and authority. Only he wasn’t feeling so strong, powerful or authoritative at the moment. His stomach was literally tied in knots. His bulging, hard-as-concrete thigh muscles trembled, making him lock his knees in an effort to steady them.
Knowing the beautiful Blythe Dalton would be arriving any minute made him more skittish than navigating a hundred minefields ever had. It also made him horny enough to rip the bark off every hardwood in a five-mile radius with his teeth. How many times had he thought about her, dreamed about her, craved her company in the last three months? Too damn many to count.
Sean’s drive and ambition throughout his twenty-year military career had taken every minute of his time and energy, leaving him none for a social life. When Shelly, his childhood neighbor and friend, had asked him to take her bestie on a blind date, he had jumped at the chance to spend an evening with a voluptuous, curvy woman. And a damn fine evening it was, too. He and Blythe had dined at a quaint little Italian restaurant, lingering over a delicious meal and a bottle of wine. The dinner conversation had been comfortable, light and easy. She had laughed at his jokes while he basked in the beauty of her smile. The lilt of her sweet, sexy voice had stirred desires deep inside him. Ones long lain dormant, tamped down by the stress and pressure of one dicey special ops mission after another.
The memory of that magical evening played in his head like forlorn notes of an old remembered song.
Their date had been the social highlight of his life. After finishing a succulent meal of antipasto salad, veal Parmesan and fresh bread slathered with butter, they had leisurely walked hand-in-hand down the cobblestone streets of Langston. Silently, they took in the majestic, historic homes that had been standing since the Civil War. Dusk began to settle. A soft rain fell, but neither minded as they rounded the corner to turn down a dimly-lit side street.
The seductive, sepia-toned sky reflected in Blythe’s big brown eyes had mesmerized him, drawing him deeper into her sensual orbit. Pulling her behind a gigantic oak out of the sight of any onlookers, he had pressed her back against the trunk before nudging her lips apart with his tongue. The sweet torture of that unhurried kiss, and the taste of her delicious lips rocked him to his core.
When he had opened his eyes to look into hers, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. It was then he caught sight of the ISIS operative. A skilled assassin dressed in all black with only one intention—to kill Sergeant Sean Warrington and anyone else who happened to be in the way.
ON EITHER SIDE OF the arched entrance to Camp Semper Fi stood two male marines—a cute blond and an intense-looking, dark-haired soldier decked out in Dress Blues. Long-sleeved, midnight-blue coats trimmed in red, hugged their massive, muscular chests and shoulders. The white, webbed belts with gold buckles cinched around tapered waists accentuated their fine physiques. Sky-blue slacks with a blood-red stripe running down the outer leg drew the female eye to bulging, masculine thighs. Black shoes buffed to a shine, white gloves and a cover cap completed the proud marines’ ensembles.
Blythe’s hands suddenly grew sweaty as Shelly slowed the car and lowered the driver’s window. At the mere thought of crossing paths with Sergeant Sean Warrington, a swarm of butterflies took up residence in Blythe’s stomach. She thought she could handle seeing him again, but the erratic palpitations of her heart said otherwise.
Concentrating on the sound of Shelly’s voice, Blythe tried to calm her breathing.
“Good morning, officer.”
The blond soldier tipped his cap. “Morning, ma’am. What brings you to Camp Semper Fi?”
Out of her peripheral, Blythe could see Shelly batting her eyelashes profusely. Her best friend had always had a thing for a man in uniform, but what woman with a pulse didn’t?
“We’re here at Sergeant Warrington’s behest. I’m the arts and crafts coordinator, and my friend here is the camp counselor.”
Just the sound of his name made Blythe hyperventilate. For a few seconds, she toyed with the idea of jumping out of the car and fleeing. God help her, she wanted to run and she wanted to stay.
But that was a ridiculous, conflicted notion. After all, she was a full-grown woman and could get through two weeks of summer camp standing on her head. Besides, the camp was located on thirty sprawling acres of wooded land. Avoiding Sean in all of this wide-open space would be easy peasy.
According to the brochure, Lake Hartwell was the centerpiece of this wide-stretching wilderness. Hiking trails forked off in all directions, leading to various breathtaking sights. To the east, there were beautiful waterfalls. To the west, the majestic Blue Ridge Mountains. To the south were botanical gardens. To the north were bright green meadows—a clearing of trees where nightly campfires were held. Given the vastness before her, she probably wouldn’t even run into Sean at all.
The dark-haired marine handed the blond one a clipboard, drawing Blythe’s attention. Then he addressed Shelly.
“Ma’am, I’ll need you and your friend’s full names and picture IDs.”
Blythe’s stomach fell to her feet. In all the packing and rushing around, she had grabbed her suitcases but not her purse. Crap! Without her driver’s license, the soldier would probably summon Sean to confirm her identity. It was obvious these men took their job of securing the camp seriously. They weren’t going to take Blythe’s word. So much for complete avoidance.
THE SCREECH OF THE two-way radio jerked Sean back to the present. It was just as well; thoughts of Blythe had given him a raging tension headache and a Herculean hard-on. He needed something to distract him. Soon enough she—the ultimate distraction—would be right here in front of him. Given what had happened on their date, he was more than a little concerned about her reaction to seeing him again. Would she give him the time of day, much less a chance to explain his terrible behavior that night? He wouldn’t blame her if she came out swinging. He deserved anything she threw at him.
“Do you copy, Sergeant?”
Sean winced at the high-pitched sound of Private Chad Kean’s voice. He was a new recruit, a baby-faced blond still cutting his teeth.
“What’s the problem, Private?”
“Well, sir there are two women here at the gate.”
“Sounds like a pleasure, not a problem, soldier.” Only Sean had a feeling one of those women might be giving him a fit before the day was out.
“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir. It’s just that one of them doesn’t have any form of identification on her. Allowing her onto the grounds without a picture ID breaks your security protocols, sir.”
Releasing the button on the radio to keep Kean from hearing, Sean took a deep breath then blew it out hard.
“Describe this woman to me, Private.”
Sean grinned when the young man cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Uh, she—she’s got some real nice curves on her, sir. Long, wavy chestnut-brown hair that hits the top of her tits. Big chocolatey brown eyes and one of the worst tempers I’ve ever seen.”
Blythe Dalton for sure. His grin turned to a frown. “What’s got her so worked up?”
“I’m afraid that would be me, sir.”
“What the hell did you do?”
“I ordered Private Falk to search her suitcases. She has three! Combined with no ID, it gave me pause. For all I know, she could be trying to smuggle in an arsenal of weapons. The other woman—Shelly Matthew
s—only has one duffle. I hope I didn’t overstep, sir, but you positioned me at the entrance for a reason. To keep Camp Semper Fi safe, sir. And that’s what I aim to do.”
“Cease the search until I get there, Private.”
“Copy that.”
THE NOSTRILS OF BLYTHE’S cute button nose flared furiously. With her hands firmly planted on her hips, she whirled around to Shelly who was barely stifling laughter.
“There’s nothing funny about being humiliated, Shelly!” she screamed, holding out her hand. “Give me the damn keys to the car. I’m outta here!”
Shelly shook her head. “I’m sorry Bly, but watching a sexy soldier sift through your sensible, white-cotton granny panties is a little funny.”
“Oh, yeah? We’ll see how frigging hilarious you think it is when he tears into your duffle and starts thumbing through your thongs. Why anyone would wear butt floss, I’ll never know.”
Shelly rolled her eyes. “Because panty lines are not hot. Besides, you never know what might happen to you at summer camp,” she said, winking at the marine who was inspecting yet another pair of Blythe’s gigantic undies.
Her face burned red. Lord if the damn thing didn’t look like a surrender flag flying on the breeze. Maybe she should lay off the honeybuns for a while.
“Nothing’s going to happen to me Shelly because I’m leaving.”
Suddenly, the two soldiers making up the meet-greet-and-search-through-her-personal-belongings team jumped to attention. Blythe could hear their heels click together and their stiffened hands snapping out salutes.
“Nobody’s going anywhere. Private Kean, you failed to follow my orders. Private Falk is still searching this woman’s suitcase.”
Blythe felt lightheaded. The roar of blood in her ears was overwhelming. But it wasn’t loud enough to drown out Sean Warrington’s panty-melting, heart-throbbing baritone. Following the sultry sound, she turned around slowly. A small gasp escaped her full lips. Damn! He was even sexier than she remembered.
“Looks like one of my men has himself a fetish,” he said, holding her in a heat-filled gaze that made her gulp for air. Relief flooded her when he turned his attention to the trembling soldier still holding her underwear.
