To Tempt a SEAL

by Sara Jane Stone

“I’m having potatoes,” she said, her voice low as if divulging a dirty secret as she spooned home fries onto her plate.

  “And biscuits,” he said, his mouth close to her ear. “Don’t forget those. Or the bacon.”

  She glanced longingly at the biscuits. “Those are made with real butter. And they’re packed with flaky, melt-in-your-mouth carbs.”

  “How about I take two and you can have one off my plate? That way the calories don’t count,” he said, recalling a fling with a woman who’d had a strong aversion to carbs. But only when they touched her plate. Everyone else’s food was fair game. Of course he’d tried that trick with Natalie once and she’d told him that if he ate off her plate she’d slap his hand away.

  “No.” She reached for the biscuits. “I want my own.”

  He followed her through the rest of the buffet, watching as she turned her face away from curious glances and smiled at the few people who made eye contact. The look in her eyes was reminiscent of an apology. He swore her reaction to the stares was more instinctual than intentional.

  It happened again as they wound their way through the tables, but this time for a different reason. A man in an “I’m in Love With Love” T-shirt looked at Lucia, and she smiled. Except lover boy wasn’t focused on her face. The man’s gaze lingered on her chest.

  Cade shook his head. No wonder she had trouble trusting his desire for her, not when she was accustomed to people treating her like an object, not a person. No concern for who she was. What she wanted. How she felt.

  He moved to her side and blocked the guy’s view. He wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her to a two-top against the wall. His actions screamed mine, mine, mine to anyone glancing their way.

  “What’s on your Post-it note list for today?” he asked once they were seated.

  She looked at him over the top of her biscuit. “I’ve been dreaming about a lounge chair by the pool, my book, and a strawberry daiquiri with an umbrella in it.”

  He could picture her in a bikini that barely contained her breasts and her mouth wrapped around a straw. “Do you like fruity cocktails more or less than chocolate?”

  “More.” She took a bite and closed her eyes. “I’ve stayed away from daiquiris, piña coladas, chocolatinis, and oh, God, biscuits for the past six months. I’ve been trying to be good—”

  “Not today.” He reached for his ice water. “Vegas isn’t the place for good. Trust me.”

  “And what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?”

  “Not the memories.” Six months from now, he had a feeling that when he closed his eyes, he’d see her mouth. The memory of her lips wrapped around a berry—or hell, his dick—would follow him halfway around the world.

  And he hoped she’d recall every touch, every kiss and remember how it felt to be cherished, her body worshipped for hours. In his eyes, a few cuts didn’t rob her of the beauty she’d been born with.

  But it had stolen her confidence. Watching her walk through a room filled with strangers without her mask, he had a feeling there were moments when she wanted to disappear.

  “I’m not going to forget last night,” she said, her voice firm.

  “Or today. I’m going to make your dream come true at one of the best pools in Vegas,” he said, the pieces of a plan quickly falling into place.

  She raised an eyebrow. “What makes it the best?”

  “There’s a beach with real sand,” he said. “I have a friend who handles the cabana reservations. He should be able to hook us up without having to slip past security.”

  “What about your father? Isn’t he expecting you?”

  “We talked about getting together later, but he’ll understand if I need to rework the schedule.” He focused on layering his biscuit with eggs and bacon. “My dad was in the Navy. A SEAL. And believe me, he always made the most out of his downtime. He loves Vegas and everything this city has to offer.”

  Ball games, camping trips, and even the occasional concert at one of the Vegas hotels—his dad treated leave like one big celebration. His mother had enjoyed their adventures in the moment, but Cade knew it had made it that much worse when he left again. Everyday life dulled in comparison. And the fear that his dad might not make it back had loomed over them month after month.

  “So you’re following in your father’s footsteps?”

  Hell, I hope not.

  When Cade looked to the future, he saw battles fought overseas, not shouting matches at the kitchen table about why serving in the teams trumped damn near everything else.

  “Your dad must have really loved his job,” she added. “For you to want to join the Navy, too.”

  “He did,” Cade admitted. “He carried the honor on his sleeve. After my parents split, I had to see what it was about. So I joined.”

  “Did you figure it out?” she asked.

  “No,” he said, biting into his biscuit.

  Enlisting in the Navy had changed his life. But he’d never been able to pinpoint why his father had risked his marriage to serve. After his first year, he’d stopped looking for reasons. He’d chalked his mother’s request for a divorce up to the fact that the realities of military life took a larger toll on the family members back home than most people realized.

  “Then why stay?” she said.

  “I learned why I love serving my country.” He set his self-made breakfast sandwich on his plate and focused on Lucia. “It took a while. At first I just wanted to be the best. But even before I joined the SEAL teams, I knew what I was doing was important. Maybe not my day to day, especially in basic training. But I was surrounded by guys my age who were ready and willing to risk their lives to protect people.”

  “When you put it like that, everything’s dwarfed in comparison,” she said softy. “You’d inspire anyone to join up.”

  He laughed. “Especially when you’re seventeen and fresh out of high school. Before I left Vegas, my idea of freedom revolved around taking my parents’ car for a night, or sneaking out of the house to fool around with a girl. But now I’ve been to places where most of the freedoms I took for granted as a kid, they don’t exist.”

  “It changed you,” she said.

  He nodded. “I woke up to the fact that I wasn’t in the Navy for myself or for my dad. I fought to join the SEAL teams because serving is the right thing to do. Even if at the end of the day, it just means some punk gets to fool around with a girl in the backseat of a car. At least they get a chance to be kids.”

  “Wow,” she said.

  “Yeah.” He glanced at her. “I bet you’re regretting asking that question.”

  “No.” She looked him straight in the eyes. This time she didn’t turn the injured side of her face to the shadows or dip her cheek to her shoulder. “I go to work at the hospital every day because helping kids who have seen the worst of what life has to offer, giving them a chance to find their way back the same way someone helped me—it’s the right thing to do. I can’t erase their pasts. But I can give them a paintbrush. I can offer a creative outlet that tells them their voice matters.”

  “I’m so damn glad someone gave that to you.” He stared across the table and focused on her as he pushed the images of war out of his head.

  He’d seen shit that made his skin crawl. Kids carrying guns. Young girls wearing suicide bombs. But he couldn’t let those memories stop him from living his life or doing his job. The best way to fight it was to focus on the present—and the woman he could protect from all the hurtful glances.

  Sometimes when he was in the line of duty, it was hard to remind himself that while he couldn’t change the world, he could make a small difference in the lives he touched. That’s what he would do for Lucia. Maybe he couldn’t transform her life, but he would offer her the kind of life she deserved for this weekend. He would make sure she felt cherished. Desired. Valued.

  “It sounds like there’s a lot of you in your art,” he added.

  “Some of the pieces.” She picked up the last bit of
biscuit. “I’ve done a few paintings for restaurants or corporate offices. Painting as a form of therapy is rewarding. But so is earning a paycheck. Without the added income, I couldn’t afford designer shoes.”

  “Your shoes were pretty damn close to a work of art in my book,” Cade said, dropping his voice low. “But I would love to see your paintings someday. Not the ones you make for others. The ones you paint for yourself.”

  “Maybe.” The corner of her mouth offered a hint of a smile. “But first I need another biscuit.”

  “Done.” He pushed back from the table and paused beside her chair. He locked away the haunting images his job had left behind. Today, he needed to focus on Lucia. Maybe this weekend, they could be each other’s escape. “And I’ll get you something sweet while I’m there just to watch you moan with pleasure.”

  Lucia stole a glance at Cade’s perfect butt and allowed the delirium of the moment to sink in. She’d just sent her very own Navy SEAL to fetch her a biscuit. She mentally ticked off the list of times this man could have walked away from her—after the club, when her mask had fallen off, before they fell asleep in each other’s arms—but he’d stayed.

  Her cell phone buzzed, drawing her attention away from his perfect backside. She found her phone in her purse, nestled beside her crumpled Post-it. She scanned the text message on the screen.

  Need to know you’re okay.

  She smiled. How many text messages had she received over the years from her sister that began with those words? It drove her sister crazy that she couldn’t take down Lucia’s demons. But her sister always checked in. And if Lucia needed her, she knew her sister would find a way to help.

  How was last night? The opening? Tell me you didn’t go through with the plan.

  She glanced at Cade as he surveyed a table littered with breakfast pastries. She’d had that perfect male specimen tied up beneath her last night. Looking at him now, her plan seemed like the best idea she’d ever had. With a laugh, Lucia turned back to her phone and started typing.

  I’m so much better than okay, Nat. Don’t worry. I went ahead with it and met someone.

  Her reply came back within seconds. One word.

  DETAILS.

  She chuckled and texted back:

  He’s a SEAL! Six feet tall, a wall of muscle, and a voice designed to melt a girl’s panties.

  “How do you feel about doughnuts?” Cade’s deep, sensuous voice teased her senses as he approached the table.

  “We were friendly until I accused a Boston cream of forcing me to need Spanx. So now we try to steer clear of each other,” she said as he set a plate piled with doughnuts of all shapes and sizes on their table. Chocolate glazed. Vanilla and sprinkles. Powdered sugar. “I should probably keep it that way if I want to wear the dress I brought for tonight.”

  “I won’t try to convince you.” He pulled the plate closer. “Now tell me more about this dress.”

  She laughed, a giddy feeling rising up in her chest. He said those words as if he had every intention of sticking around to see her wear it. “It’s the most unusual shade of blue. I’ve never seen such a vibrant color.”

  “Blue. Got it,” he said. “And the neckline?”

  “Low,” she admitted. “But it’s the back that might lead to trouble.”

  His gaze sharpened. “What kind of trouble are we talking about?”

  The familiar sound of a phone beeping to indicate a new text interrupted. And they both reached for their cells.

  “I asked my dad to suggest a time to get together,” he explained, scanning the screen and setting his cell on the table. “I should hear back from him soon.”

  “It was my sister.” She set her phone aside to read the message later. “I texted her earlier, letting her know I was alive and okay.”

  His hand froze over the plate of doughnuts. “Did you tell her about me?”

  She nodded. “It’s not every day you meet a man who makes your fantasies come true.”

  “She knows about your Post-it list?” He sat back in his chair and picked up a chocolate glazed doughnut.

  “Not the list, but—”

  The beep sounded again. She leaned forward and scanned the two screens side by side. It was for Cade. And she didn’t try to read it. But one word caught her eye.

  DICK.

  All caps.

  “Um, I don’t think this is from your father.” She held out the phone before she was tempted to scan the screen and find out who’d sent the message.

  He took the phone, his brow furrowed, and read the one-word message. “It’s from a friend, reminding me that I should have called.”

  She smiled, leaning forward, offering a glimpse down her shirt as she reached for her coffee. “Take your time. The doughnuts and I will be waiting.”

  His gaze dropped to her cleavage before returning to her face. “I’ll be back. You can count on it. And then I’m taking you to the beach.”

  He stood, his cell pressed to his ear as he headed for the exit. After he disappeared into the hotel hallway, she picked up her cell and read her sister’s text.

  Did the SEAL talk you out of your panties?!

  The memories from last night swirled in her mind. But she’d known from the moment he’d looked at her and called her gorgeous in that deep baritone that she would hand over her underwear. And the longer he stayed, the more she wanted to believe he meant what he said.

  Yes, she typed. And I plan to hand them over again tonight.

  Chapter Nine

  Cade paced up and down the brightly colored carpet, the phone pressed to his ear. The wild pattern was giving him a headache—or hell, maybe it was the fact that in a few rings, he would get the shit verbally kicked out of him by his best friend.

  He glanced through the latticework separating the buffet from the rest of the casino. Head cocked to one side, Lucia contemplated the last doughnut before picking it up and sinking her teeth into it. She quickly returned it to the plate as her tongue ran over her lips, wiping them clean.

  Fuck me, I want her again. Right here, in the middle of the damn restaurant, pressed up against the wall—

  “Damn you, Cade!” his best friend yelled into the phone.

  “Nat—”

  “How could you? I sent you to watch my shy little sister in a place where she’s completely out of her element…and you sleep with her?”

  “I’ll give you shy, but your sister can hold her own just about anywhere,” he said. “And she’s a knockout. She doesn’t see it, possibly because her own sister looks at her and sees an overweight woman with scars on her face that she feels the need to hide behind a damn mask.”

  “Did you sleep with her before or after you found out what happened?”

  He could hear her stacking glasses in the background, and he had a feeling she was close to hurling one against the wall.

  “I’m not giving you the details,” he said. “But I’ll tell you this. When I found out, I couldn’t walk away from her. I couldn’t let her believe even for a second that the scars on her face made a difference in how I saw her.”

  “How do you think she’s going to feel when she learns that I sent you to the party to watch over her?” she snapped.

  “She’s not going to find out.” He stopped in the middle of the carpet and squared his shoulders. “She’s leaving tomorrow. Until then, I plan to show her around town. After she’s gone, she never needs to know I’m your friend.”

  “What if she comes to visit me here? Everyone here knows you’re the closest thing I have to family around here. Hell, we have a dog together.”

  “I didn’t get the sense you were that close to Lucia. You’ve never once gone to see her in Tennessee. And she’s never flown out to see you.”

  “We text and email,” she said.

  “But you’ve never mentioned my name.”

  “We’ve grown apart over the years. After some of the stuff that happened, it was just easier to live our lives. But I’m still the person she c
alls. When it matters, I’m there for her,” she said, her voice trembling.

  He had witnessed his petite friend stand up to drunken sailors twice her size. Nothing shook her—except the past. It was part of the reason they’d become friends. They both knew what it was like to hold grudges for the way the past shaped the future. And they both knew what it was like to have someone walk away from you repeatedly.

  He leaned his shoulder against the wall. “Why didn’t you tell me how bad it was for you when you were a kid?”

  “I didn’t have it nearly as bad as Lucia,” she said softly. “No one ever laid a hand on me.”

  “You could have told me,” he said.

  “I didn’t want you to walk up to Lucia at a party and offer her pity. She’s had enough of that. She’d just walk away. She was looking for someone to make her feel pretty. I thought you could charm her without losing your clothes, seeing as you promised and all.”

  “Things got out of hand.” There was this list… “And I’m sorry,” he added. “For going back on my word.”

  “Don’t do it again, and maybe Mufasa and I will forgive you.” The Great Pyrenees barked in the background.

  “Hey, don’t bring our dog into this,” he said, wondering for the hundredth time why he’d let her name their dog after a Lion King character.

  “Fine. But from this point forward, the clothes stay on. I don’t want you to get her hopes up. Because I swear, if you leave her wanting more, if you break her heart—”

  “I won’t. She was clear from the beginning. One wild Vegas weekend. This ends when she gets on the plane.”

  “The part where you talk her out of her panties ends now,” she insisted. “The clothes stay on until she heads home.”

  He stole another glance at Lucia as she licked the last of the powdered sugar off her lips. Men were staring, but it didn’t have a damn thing to do with her scars. He’d bet they were wondering what she would feel like under their touch, how she would respond to a kiss.

  He knew. And he wanted to learn so much more.

  “Cade?”

  “I need to go,” he said. “I’ve left her at the table too long. Take care of Mufasa, and I’ll see you when I get back.”