The Navy SEAL's Rescue

by Jo Leigh

  Jade grinned wide. “I’m going to open a perfumery. Nothing huge, but I’ll be making personalized scents. Tailoring them to people’s chemistry. I’ve already set up a website, even though I can’t start yet, not until I’m out of contract, which won’t be for another five months. And I have a partner. She’s a professor from Berkeley and she’s financing the whole thing, because God knows I’m still in debt up to my eyeballs, but she thinks we can really do a lot with this. Kind of like what they’re doing now with DNA. Getting saliva samples from people via the mail, then I do my magic, and give them a scent that’s unique to their body chemistry. I’m wearing one of mine right now.”

  “You smell delicious,” Harlow said, leaning in for another sniff. “I noticed when we hugged.”

  “I know,” Cricket added. “I noticed, too. But it’s not the same as last night, and I told you how amazing that was. Are they both yours?”

  Jade nodded.

  “I’ll spit on whatever you want,” Harlow said. “Please.”

  “Good. I’ll send you all kits. You can be guinea pigs for my questionnaires.”

  Cricket held up her almost empty glass. “To new adventures and tremendous success. Jade, you’ll kill it. You’ll absolutely kill it.”

  “I’m glad you think so,” Jade said, clicking her glass with the others, “because I’m totally going to ask you for help drawing up the legal stuff.”

  “Of course.”

  “You’ll be paid, don’t worry about that.”

  “I’d do it anyway. You know that.”

  They drank, and then Jade leaned in, her eyes shining with mischief. “Did you guys see Winnie this morning? What the hell has she done with her hair?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Harlow shuddered. “She looks like Billy Idol. I mean, with her coloring, those platinum spikes? Honestly, what in the world?”

  “God, she was such a bitch,” Jade said. “Thought she was all that, so I made a point of looking at her current bio. She’s divorced, two kids, ex-husband’s in insurance. She lives in Nebraska. Remember how she was going to take New York by storm?”

  “She used to call me a grotesque giraffe,” Harlow said. “When she couldn’t even make the cheerleading squad.”

  “Better than telling me every single day that I stunk like fish,” Jade said. “I mean, every day? Waving her hand in front of her face when I’d walk by. God, I hate her.”

  “Now this is like old times,” Ginny said. “Remember Tommy Zico? That pervert? Is he here? I didn’t see his name...”

  “I bet he’s in jail.” Harlow shook her head. “At least he should be.”

  “Well, how about that?” Ginny said. “Cricket. Check out who’s at the activity board.”

  Jade followed Harlow’s gaze and said, “I’ll take him to go, please.”

  Cricket turned around. It was Wyatt. Looking even scruffier than he had last night. Wearing a sweat-stained T-shirt over running shorts, his stubble darker, his hair a mess, and she felt her insides melt.

  “Wait a minute,” Jade said. “Cricket? He’s so not your type.”

  “You don’t even know what my type is.”

  “Uh, corporate. Silk neckties. Penthouse apartment. Drives a Porsche.”

  “Stop it.” Cricket flushed, although not about Jade’s comment, even though she’d almost described Grant to a T. “I’m versatile.”

  “You sure?” Harlow said. “Maybe we could Rochambeau for him? I’ll be paper, you can be rock.”

  Cricket polished off her drink and dropped her napkin on the table. “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

  “Why, you hogging him all for yourself?”

  “Very possibly.” She tugged her dress down, then headed over to him.

  * * *

  WYATT THOUGHT ABOUT what kind of special he could offer, but gave up the idea when he saw there would be dancing after the dinner. That gave him only an hour window before the law made him lock up. Besides, it was a dumb idea. These people didn’t care about specials.

  “See anything interesting?”

  He jerked at the voice, recognizing it instantly. Cricket was standing a little to his right. “Hey. I didn’t even notice you here.”

  “I could tell. It’s okay. I was with my friends. Gossiping. It was great. We all still hate the same people.”

  He laughed as he followed her gaze to a table of women, who were all staring straight at him. Three of them waved. One of them gave him a thumbs-up. Embarrassed, he looked back at the board as he realized he hadn’t thought this through. Hoping to see Cricket was one thing, but he smelled and looked like hell. Thank God he’d brushed his teeth. Nodding at the board, making sure his arms stayed by his sides, he said, “You guys actually have a party tomorrow at the yacht club. How rich are you people?”

  “Shut up,” she said, laughing. “It wasn’t my idea. And I doubt I’d be welcome.”

  “I think you’d be welcome anywhere.”

  “Oh, my, you aren’t from here. There’s definitely a caste system coming out of our prep school.” She lifted her brows at his slow smile. “Don’t get me wrong, it was a very good school and helped get me into Yale, but I wasn’t actually part of the ‘it’ crowd.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “No,” he said, “Actually, I don’t like to be that way. I had damn good friends who were well-heeled and loaded.”

  “I know. Me, too. Although not that many from those years. It was pretty awful for us fish people.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She sighed. “I grew up on the south side of the tracks. Surely you’re aware of the tension.”

  “I didn’t know where you were from, but yeah.”

  She stepped in closer. Brave. “I was sorry I had to leave last night. My friend had arrived, and I’d promised to meet her. We ended up having a late meal and talking until the wee hours.”

  “I understand. I was up late, too.” He almost told her why, but that was Sabrina’s business, so he left it.

  “I like Sam’s Sugar Shack, but I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be to run the place.”

  “Something tells me you’re one of the people who don’t think it’s an institution and should be preserved like Mount Vernon.”

  She laughed again, and oddly that sound made him itch to touch her skin. Especially in that strappy dress. She clearly worked out. Her arms, which weren’t normally a thing he thought about much, were nicely toned. He’d already noticed her legs. Stellar. And the rest of her was pretty sweet, as well. He wasn’t one of those men who insisted on huge breasts. He liked all kinds, and Cricket’s looked just fine.

  “I don’t know. If your trade is mostly local, I suppose the decor is perfect.”

  “Even if politically incorrect...”

  She smiled. “I’m staying out of that discussion.”

  “Actually, with the hotel so near, I’ve considered making it a little nicer. Still a dive bar, though. Just fewer piñatas and bikini tops.”

  “What a party you could have taking those piñatas down.”

  “Now that’s an idea. Ah, on second thought, I’d be worried about the contents. If it’s candy, who knows how old it is. I’d hate to kill everyone. That might be bad for business.”

  “Might be, yeah.”

  “So, the dinner tonight. Sounds fancy. A professional DJ? From New York? What, there aren’t any in Rhode Island?”

  “They probably weren’t prestigious enough. I told you.”

  “Prep school.”

  “Right,” she said. “Speaking of, um, if you don’t have to work tonight, would you have any interest in being my date for this fancy dinner? I promise no rubber chickens. In fact, the food is known to be exceptional.”

  Well, that was a shocker. Hell, he didn’t know what to say.


  “You’d have to change, though.”

  “But this is my formal running gear.”

  “Rules are rules.”

  “We’re not talking tuxes, are we?”

  “Some of the more clueless people will be in them, but the people you’d be hanging out with won’t. It’s not formal, honestly. And with dancing, it gets hot, so you wouldn’t want to wear, say, wool.”

  “No sheepskin then.”

  “No.”

  He looked at the schedule. “It starts at seven.”

  “I probably won’t go down till seven thirty.”

  “Ends at...”

  “Midnight.” She smiled, and it was a little flirty. “Or whenever you want to leave.”

  “You have anything going on before this shindig?”

  She shook her head. “Or after.”

  Interesting. “Well, sure. I can make it. And I promise not to embarrass you with my attire. I’ll even shave.”

  “Don’t on my account.”

  That surprised him. “Seriously?”

  She blushed just a bit. “Whatever makes you comfortable. That’s great. Although be prepared. We’re all gossips and we are merciless. On the plus side, most of the people we’ll be talking about don’t live here.”

  “Too bad. Gossip is a hobby of mine. Why do you think I bought a bar? You know how people open up to us bartenders.”

  “I don’t believe a word of it.” Her gaze caught on something behind him, and her smile vanished. “Grant? What on earth are you doing here?”

  Chapter Seven

  LOOKING PALE AND overdressed in his gray suit, Grant smiled at her as if he were meeting her for a lunch date. She really wasn’t ready to see him, and to surprise her like this?

  Wyatt stepped a little to his left, his arm brushing hers. She didn’t move, just stared at Grant. “What’s going on?”

  “You invited me. Tonight’s dinner dance?”

  “What? Are you—?” Cricket darted a glance at Wyatt, and saw him tense. “Wyatt, this is Grant Herbert,” she said, struggling to keep a smile in place. “He’s a colleague of mine. This is Wyatt.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Wyatt said, his expression neutral. “I’d shake your hand but I’ve just come back from a run...”

  Barely sparing him a glance, Grant just nodded. The self-absorbed prick.

  Wyatt didn’t smile until he turned to Cricket. “Rain check?”

  She hesitated, knowing there was no way in hell she’d be going anywhere with Grant. But the situation was awkward enough. “Absolutely.”

  Wyatt nodded and headed toward the beach exit.

  She looked at Grant just in time to see him check out Wyatt and dismiss him. It didn’t make her feel any more welcoming. “Now, tell me again. Why are you here?”

  “We talked about it. You wanted me to come.”

  “Months ago, when I got the invitation.”

  “I got jealous, thinking of you out here in the sand and sun.”

  “Well, you’re certainly dressed for it.”

  His laugh didn’t make it to his eyes. “How about we get a drink? I sure could use one.” He glanced over at the crowded lobby bar. “Someplace quiet. I had a crying baby to deal with on my flight.”

  She thought about the minibar in her suite, but she didn’t want him getting too comfortable. “The Waverly bar should do.”

  He made a face. “Will reunion people be swarming the place? I don’t want to be continually interrupted,” he said, then caught her glare and changed his tune. “I want to be able to loosen up. I’m looking forward to tonight. We’ve never been dancing.”

  “No, we haven’t. Come on.” As she led him across the lobby bar, she realized she’d automatically become Jessica the moment she’d caught sight of him. Something about this impromptu visit wasn’t sitting right. Why hadn’t he called her? About the case, about coming here? Grant wasn’t big on surprises. Giving or getting.

  As they walked toward the restaurant bar, she glanced at the girls’ table, and they were staring as if they’d never seen a man before. Jade was shaking her head, clearly preferring Wyatt’s scruff. Harlow grinned and Ginny, well, she seemed awfully amused.

  Making sure Grant couldn’t see, she widened her eyes at them and dropped her jaw, a Cricket move if there ever was one, but she quickly reverted to Jessica as they walked around the corner. Grant led her to the last two seats at the bar, and put his bag by his feet. He sighed as he smiled at her. “This resort is great. I imagine you hung out here a lot growing up.”

  “Not really, no.”

  “The cab driver told me all about the alleged hidden treasure buried somewhere on the coast. From the view I had flying in, I could see how rocky it is, but the bay looks protected. Pity I can’t stay longer. I’d have enjoyed doing the tourist bit, especially with you as my guide.”

  “The resort is probably the place you’d like best.”

  The bartender took their orders: she ordered a soda, and of course he got his extra dry martini with three olives.

  After they were served and she took a sip, she decided the small talk was far too awkward. “So, anything new on the Burbidge case? I’ve checked my email, but haven’t seen anything.”

  “Look, Jess...”

  He’d never called her Jess. And any sentence that began with Look, wasn’t going to be good.

  “There’s no way I can keep you out of this without tanking your career. If anything, Burbidge is even more determined to have you. Ulrich is adamant as well, and frankly, we’ve already discussed the repercussions of you bowing out.”

  It was all she could do not to throw her drink in his face. The fury rose up from her gut in a white rage. He couldn’t have tried very hard, since it had been only two days since their talk. She doubted he tried at all. “You knew all along, didn’t you? Before I even left Chicago.”

  He leaned back a little, which was smart, because she was spitting mad.

  “You just figured I’d eventually cave, and that would suit you just fine. No risk involved. Hell, that’s why you offered the company money to fly me out here, to soften me up. But this was always more about saving your own neck, not mine.”

  “That’s not true. You know damn well Burbidge is pressuring the partners. They can’t afford to have anything go wrong on this case. Surely you’ve thought about this while you’ve been gone.” Pausing, he studied her closely. “Honestly, you can’t be this naive. We don’t get to pick and choose our cases.”

  “I can’t believe you lied to my face when you said you had my back.”

  He looked away, but not soon enough for her to miss the anger that flashed in his eyes. After a deep breath, a couple of sips of his drink and another sigh, he looked at her. “I do have your back.” His tone was gentle, as if he was trying to coax a feral cat into a box. Then he reached over, and put his hand on top of hers.

  She whipped it out from under him, and he jerked so hard he nearly spilled his olives.

  “Look, I know you’re upset, but come on, let’s try to have a nice time at this dinner thing. I’d love to meet your friends, and I’ve wanted to take you dancing for a long time. We can talk again in the morning.”

  Cricket knew no matter what he said, she wasn’t going to change her mind. Maybe she didn’t belong at such a prestigious firm. The ACLU could use a good contract lawyer, right? That would probably suit her better, and it wasn’t as if she needed the Chicago lifestyle. The idea of giving up everything made her stomach clench. She’d worked so damn hard...

  “I don’t think so.” She slid off her stool and looked at him. “If you haven’t made a room reservation, you might want to head back to the airport. The resort and every other place in town is booked for the weekend.”

  “Jessica. You’re being irrational. What are you going to do with lousy ref
erences? You think anyone who’s anyone will hire you?”

  “My father’s ill, and I need to make sure he gets some medical care. I’m not sure when I’ll be back. It shouldn’t be a problem, though,” she added, just to let him know she wasn’t going down without a fight. “I have a lot of vacation days accrued.”

  “Jesus, Jessica, don’t do this—”

  “Goodbye, Grant.” Walking away in her best Jessica style, stiff back, head high, wishing she was wearing something else, she made her way out of the bar, straight into the elevator and pushed the button to her floor. As soon as the door closed and she was alone, she let it all drop: Jessica, her career and especially Grant. It felt tangibly lighter being Cricket. Although the last thing in the world she wanted to do was go to the damn dinner dance. Having her last hopes dashed to pieces was exhausting. She wanted to sleep for a week.

  The walk to her suite was slow, and took all her failing energy. She didn’t even bother to take off her shoes before she landed on the bed and closed her eyes.

  Unfortunately, her plan to nap went to hell. Her friends would all be at the dinner. On the one hand, ditching them would feel like a betrayal, and besides, she loved those whack job friends of hers. On the other, they’d all have questions. Then again, because it was a big event, she could probably get away with promising to tell them all the grisly details tomorrow.

  Besides, she’d brought a knockout dress for tonight. Grant would have peed his hand-tailored slacks. But screw him, screw Burbidge, screw the partners...all of them could go straight to hell.

  She had just enough time to wash the day off her before she could put on her chic, very expensive, sleeveless cocktail dress. It was gold and white, and hugged her body to its best advantage.

  The shower was an elixir, especially wiping off her makeup. But when she sat down at the vanity, she knew tonight would be a challenge.

  Of course, she was late. It wasn’t until Jade texted her that she realized they were all waiting for her inside the banquet room. At least she wasn’t the only straggler. She made her way to their table, wondering if it was Ginny’s turn to get drinks, because there were two empty seats.