The Navy SEAL's Rescue

by Jo Leigh

  How do you save a hero?

  Workaholic Cricket Shaw is a darn good lawyer—until a controversial case compromises both her ethics and her career. A long weekend in Temptation Bay, Rhode Island, for her high school reunion is the perfect escape. Sand between her toes, the sun on her skin...and a ruggedly mysterious former navy SEAL.

  Except Wyatt Covack is much more than Cricket ever imagined. He’s still tormented by the lives he was responsible for and lost. The connection between them seems to take on a life of its own, a current that resists all logic. But the only way Cricket can save her SEAL is by letting go of the life she’s fought for...

  “Where to?”

  Wyatt and Cricket stood midway between the elevators and the outdoor deck.

  “My suite?”

  “Sure?”

  She nodded.

  He kissed her lightly, quickly. “I need to get that wine.”

  She held him even as he tried to make a break for it. “That’s what room service is for.”

  “Is that all?”

  “For now,” she said, pulling him along until she could hit the button to go up. His arm slid just above her waist, his fingers gliding on her bare skin.

  She shivered at the feeling, and when she opened her eyes, he was staring at her with so much longing it stole her breath away...

  Dear Reader,

  After writing over sixtysomething books for Harlequin, here it is, my very first Superromance. I have to say, it’s been a total joy to write. I loved delving so deeply into the relationships, fell madly in love with Wyatt, wanted to be just like Cricket, and I absolutely want to move to Temptation Bay...this week, please?

  I got so involved in this story that I dreamed about these characters, thought about them at inconvenient times (while watching a movie—that I actually liked) and now that I’m not writing it anymore, I miss them like crazy. I keep calling my dog Baby Girl, have made myself a lobster roll because I couldn’t bear not to and, well...I truly do hope you enjoy Wyatt and Cricket’s story.

  All my best,

  Jo Leigh

  JO LEIGH

  The Navy SEAL’s Rescue

  Jo Leigh is from Los Angeles and always thought she’d end up living in Manhattan. So how did she end up in Utah in a tiny town with a terrible internet connection, being bossed around by a houseful of rescued cats and dogs? What the heck, she says, predictability is boring. Jo has written more than sixty novels for Harlequin. Find her on Twitter, @jo_leigh.

  Books by Jo Leigh

  HARLEQUIN BLAZE

  NYC Bachelors

  Tempted in the City

  Daring in the City

  It’s Trading Men!

  Choose Me

  Have Me

  Want Me

  Seduce Me

  Dare Me

  Intrigue Me

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles by Jo Leigh.

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  To my editor, Birgit Davis-Todd.

  We’ve been partners in this journey since 1997, and we’ve worked on Temptations, Blazes, Intrigues, special series, online reads and now Superromance. She’s been my advocate, my sounding board and my trusted advisor, which makes me the luckiest Harlequin writer ever!

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Excerpt from A Stranger in the Cove by Rachel Brimble

  Chapter One

  “MS. SHAW, YOUR weekly delivery is here. Should I send Arnold to your office?”

  At the sound of Felicity’s voice coming from the intercom Jessica looked up from her laptop. Ignoring her assistant’s blatant attempt to get a rise out of her, she said, “I believe you still have tip money in the envelope I left with you.”

  “I do. So would you prefer he leave the flowers with me?”

  Jessica sighed. “Please.” A headache threatened from reading briefs most of the day and she wasn’t in the mood for her assistant’s teasing. Not just that, but encouraging Arnold in any way wasn’t a good idea. Ever since he’d become Jessica’s regular deliveryman, he’d had a crush on her. If you could call it that—the guy had to be in his late twenties. It hadn’t turned into anything...it wasn’t as if he was stalking her. But six months of trying to engage with her was too long.

  A few minutes later she heard a light knock at her door.

  “Come in, Felicity.” Jessica stood and moved last week’s flowers off the corner of her desk.

  The door opened and the young woman entered, holding a glass vase filled with cheery yellow daffodils and pale green chrysanthemums. Huh. Interesting choice for the middle of June in Chicago. It did the trick, though, and boosted Jessica’s spirits.

  “Sorry about earlier,” Felicity said, setting down the bouquet. “I shouldn’t have been joking around today of all days.”

  “Why? Because I had only four hours sleep last night and I’m cross-eyed from reading briefs? Or did something happen that I don’t know about?”

  “No.” Felicity smoothed her blue skirt. It was unusual to see her without a blazer. She tended to mimic Jessica in her manner of dress and hairstyles: conservative suits, hair pulled back in a neat twist or upswept. The staff often referred to her as mini-Jessica, only Felicity was a blonde and Jessica had dark hair. “It’s been raining steadily since this morning. You’re usually in a funk on gloomy days.”

  “Am I?”

  “Maybe subdued is a better description.” Felicity shrugged. “I’ve always assumed it made you a little homesick.”

  Jessica supposed that was partly true, although the weather in Rhode Island could get cold and nasty in the winter. Still, the pleasure of growing up with sand between her toes, the sun’s warmth on her skin and the tangy smell of salt in the air wasn’t something one could easily forget.

  And her dad of course... Ronny still lived in the old beach shack they’d shared for ten months out of each year until she’d left for college. As long as the surf was up he was out there on his board, along with his groupies who worshipped him. To pay the bills he gave surfing lessons to tourists or took groups out on fishing charters. But only when he absolutely had to. He was a true free spirit, her dad. For him, there was no place on earth that could top Temptation Bay. Some days she tended to agree with him.

  The moment she sat down, her gaze caught on the wastebasket under her desk, where just this morning she’d dropped the invitation to her fifteen-year high school reunion. She regretted making the decision not to attend the event. She’d vacillated for over a month about whether or not to go. Most of the girls she’d hung out with at Roger
Williams Prep had gone off to college, then moved on just as she had, and she would’ve loved to see them. Catch up on what everyone was doing with their lives. But in the end her workload had made the decision for her.

  Her career ran her life. Not that she was complaining. Being recruited by a prestigious firm like Burrell, Scoffield and Schultz right out of law school had been crazy lucky as well as a personal victory.

  “So...” Felicity nodded at the flowers Jessica had moved to the credenza. “Are you going to take those home? They still look fresh and pretty.”

  Jessica laughed. How many times had they done this dance? “Take them,” she said.

  “Excellent.” Felicity scooped up the vase quickly. “By the way, still no card.”

  Jessica already knew that, and the tiny amused satisfaction she got out of keeping the secret that she sent the flowers to herself wasn’t a big deal. In fact, the truth was so much more mundane—she loved getting flowers so it was a treat she indulged in. When the office staff assumed she had an admirer, she’d let them.

  Felicity shook her head on the way to the door. “You’d think just knowing you have a secret admirer would be enough to discourage poor Arnold.”

  “Hey, about that...” Jessica picked up her mug, then remembered she’d thought about getting a refill an hour ago. “Don’t tease him anymore.” She held up a hand at the first sign of protest. “I know you don’t do it openly, but I don’t want this thing with him escalating.”

  Felicity nodded thoughtfully. “May I get you some coffee? I can make a fresh pot.”

  “Thanks, but I need to move.” She arched her back and glanced at the time. “Oh, great, I missed lunch.”

  “I have some yogurt in the fridge.”

  “No thanks.” Stretching her neck from side to side, Jessica followed her assistant out of the office and headed for the break room. She hadn’t actually felt hungry until she realized she hadn’t eaten. If she could manage to leave at a decent hour—anytime before seven would do—she’d pick up dinner from Max’s Take Out.

  The whole floor seemed quieter than usual. Which was saying a lot. At least now she’d acclimated to the atmosphere at the firm. Being one of the top fifty law practices in the country, the attitudes and mores of the senior partners were still nestled in the stuffy long ago. Which included not rubbing elbows with the lowly associates.

  At first she’d been put off. After all, she’d graduated third in her class at Yale. She was a damn good contract lawyer. Despite her skill and commitment, moving up in the firm was a slow and opaque process. But all in all, she liked it here. Everything was very...tidy. Organized and compartmentalized.

  “Hey, Jessica.”

  Grant Herbert, who was a junior partner and quite a few rungs above her on the ladder, called out from his office, and while he wasn’t actually her boss, she often worked on projects for him. Grant was a friend. Sometimes a little more than that. And he had an amazing office with a window view of Lake Michigan. While it wasn’t the Atlantic Ocean, it made her think of home.

  In fact, her gaze was drawn instantly to the glorious reds and oranges of the late afternoon sun, fighting to make it through the dark clouds coming in from the lake. She let out a breath, and felt her mood lift just looking at it.

  “Someday, you’re going to come in here and look at me the way you look out that window.”

  She smiled, knowing he understood that at work, it was all work, and nothing more.

  “You wanted to talk to me?”

  “I was about to call you,” he said, leaning back in his leather chair, looking a little too handsome with his shirtsleeves rolled up on his toned arms. His dark hair could have been longer, but at least the top was at the stage where she could tell he’d been running his fingers through it. “You working late?”

  “I was hoping to leave before seven.”

  “How about we order in some sushi? I’d like to talk to you about Burbidge.”

  “Has something happened?”

  He nodded. “And it’s a doozy. You want your regular?”

  “Sure. Anything else going on? It’s too quiet around here.”

  “Big meeting upstairs.”

  “Ah.” She should’ve guessed. The top floor was occupied by the senior partners and two conference rooms that looked more like penthouses. “I’m surprised you aren’t up there.”

  “I was.” Looking grim, he rubbed a hand over his face. “How long before you finish up?”

  “An hour?”

  “Good. I’ll have Gretchen order the sushi now before she goes home.”

  Jessica hurried back to her office, her curiosity flying high. Their client, Alan Burbidge, was one of their biggest assets. His billable hours made up a large percentage of the firm’s income. He dealt primarily in real estate, although he owned over a dozen companies, from manufacturing to insurance to media outlets. A good deal of Jessica’s workload consisted of reviewing contracts and cases for Burbidge, her current focus on a lawsuit that was pending over a violation of Title II of the Hart-Scott-Rodino Antitrust Improvements Act of 1976. It was interesting, and had led her to a great many precedents for both sides. But it was hard to believe anything could be a doozy about this particular case.

  Yet Grant had looked worried, even though he didn’t rattle easily. So something was definitely brewing. Having landed Burbidge’s subsidiary accounts had put Grant on the fast track to senior partner.

  After forty minutes she called it quits, too jumpy to stay focused. She quickly cleared her desk and headed back to Grant’s office. The scent of soy sauce and vinegar hit her before she stepped inside his office, making her stomach rumble.

  “Hope you don’t mind but I need to take a few bites,” she said, grabbing her bento box before she sat across from him. “I haven’t eaten today and I’m starving. So, what’s this all about?”

  Instead of answering her, he got up and closed his door. Unusual. When he took his seat, he opened both bottles of Kirin beer. “Burbidge Jr. has done it again.”

  Jessica moaned. “Oh, God. What this time?”

  Grant’s expression told her this wasn’t just another DUI. “He’s been accused of rape.”

  She set down her dragon roll. “No. Please tell me Burbidge doesn’t want us to make this disappear.”

  “He does. And he’s adamant about it. Threatened to walk away from the firm if we don’t provide a winning defense.”

  “I’m surprised he isn’t demanding we get the charges dropped.”

  “Oh, that’s his first preference.”

  Losing his business would be a huge price to pay, but letting a rapist off the hook, especially one with money, happened far too often. To be any part of that kind of travesty was unconscionable. “I don’t know how I feel about this. I mean, the poor girl—”

  “He’s still entitled to a defense.”

  “Do you—does anyone know if he actually did it?” She studied Grant’s face, but couldn’t read him. “Personally, I think the kid is narcissistic and stupid enough to admit it if not brag about it...at least to his daddy’s attorneys.”

  Grant shrugged. “If it’s at all possible there’s DNA evidence, he’ll claim it was consensual. I’m not a defense attorney, but that’s how I’d advise him.”

  A chill ran down her spine. “You were, though. Early on.”

  “Yeah, for about a year after I passed the bar. That’s it.”

  “Who’s being assigned as lead counsel? David Crawford?” Jessica didn’t care for the newest senior partner, mostly due to his reputation for being ruthless. But with his win record, he seemed the logical choice.

  “Look, Burbidge isn’t being entirely rational at the moment. He seems more concerned that Sanford is going to be branded as a rapist.”

  Jessica searched Grant’s eyes, wondering if he’d purposely ignored her question, whi
ch wasn’t like him. “Great. That means he’ll do anything to avoid a trial. Has he suggested paying off the victim yet?”

  “I understand this is a sensitive topic. Just don’t forget we’re still his attorneys. It’s not our job to pass judgment. Innocent until proven guilty, remember?”

  “Not having to work with rapists is one reason I never wanted to be a criminal attorney. And we both know he’s got the wherewithal to manipulate anything that can be bought.”

  “There’s no wiggling out of that. Two witnesses have come forward. Money alone won’t let him walk.”

  “So, what then?”

  “Burbidge is handpicking a legal team that he thinks can pull this off.”

  “Wait. You mean, personally? He’s choosing who’ll be—”

  Grant nodded. “I told you he isn’t being rational.”

  “You’ve known him for a long time. Can’t you reason with him?”

  Grant set his beer down and leaned forward. “He wants both me and you as co-counsel.”

  Jessica lurched back in her chair. “That’s not funny.”

  “It’s not a joke. He specifically asked for you.”

  “What part of me not being a criminal attorney doesn’t he understand?”

  “I’m not one, either. But he trusts me. And he insists on you.”

  “Well, you’ll just have to work harder to get him to see he’s being an idiot.”

  Grant’s temper bled through, but only for a second. “Naturally we won’t tackle this alone. Crawford will be lead in every way that counts. And Lister and Ulrich are joining the team.”

  Jessica stared at the man she thought she knew. Did he really think she’d want any part in this? “Why on earth would Alan Burbidge ask for me? I’ve hardly had any personal interaction with him. But I have dealt with Sanford Burbidge a number of times, as you know. What I haven’t mentioned is that twice he’s bordered on inappropriate.”

  “Well, damn.” Grant stared blankly past her for a long while, then he leaned forward, his elbows on his shiny teak desk. “Alan thinks you’ve got the right stuff to handle a jury. Possibly because Sanford put a bug in his ear, but that’s immaterial because he’s already hired Roger Eastman—arguably the best jury consultant in Chicago—and they came back with a profile that fits you to a T.”