The Navy SEAL's Rescue

by Jo Leigh

  * * *

  CRICKET HAD LEARNED about the resort’s hidden gem a couple of years ago, though she’d never been. She hadn’t known anyone who had, but it sounded so charming it was on her bucket list.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Wyatt said, his expression equal parts surprise and amusement as they walked slowly down the aisle of puzzles, each one handcrafted. “Hand-cut puzzles for two, made of cherrywood. They look complicated.”

  She nodded. “They’re devilishly difficult because some pieces can fit in more than one space. Oh, and they have a wine service with some pretty nice selections.”

  “So we’ll be here all night?”

  “No. We can leave whenever, and they’ll save our puzzle for us to come back to later, if we want. Or we can try one of their Tidbits, which are only fifty pieces.”

  “I’ll follow your lead,” he said, taking her hand. “Since this is your surprise.”

  His warm firm grip had her rethinking the evening, but then she saw the host coming to take them to their table and she decided to stick with the plan. For the time being, anyway. He led them past some plush banquettes and family-sized tables to a separate alcove set aside for couples. There, he gestured to a love seat at the far table, nearly private, as all the tables to their right were empty.

  The puzzle she’d reserved was already spread out on the beautiful teak table, the box showing the completed prize set on a frame next to it at the far edge.

  “Treasure Trove,” Wyatt said. “I’m sensing a theme here.”

  “We can select another one if you’d like.”

  “No, this is fine.”

  “May I send over the sommelier?” the host inquired.

  “Yes, please,” she said.

  Once they were alone, Wyatt leaned in. “A sommelier just for the puzzles?”

  “There’s also one for the spa, and for the deck.” Cricket picked up the list that had been left on the table for them.

  She chose a glass of Chablis while Wyatt ordered a Merlot. They sat close to each other, their hips and shoulders touching. It was the easiest thing to lean on him, to kiss him when he found the right puzzle piece. Easier still was the way his hand rested on her knee as he searched the table, his thumb petting her with light, swift strokes.

  When she successfully added to the Treasure Trove, he turned so his mouth was near her ear and then he talked like a pirate in a low, gravelly voice. “You’ll never get my booty.”

  She laughed so loudly several people turned to look at them, as if she’d just slammed a book down in a library. That didn’t stop her, though.

  The hand on her knee went to the small of her back, and his lips pressed against her neck. She felt more than heard his laughter, and while she tried to call him out on his blatant cowardice, he stalled her silent with a lick and a nibble where neck met shoulder.

  When he finally sat up again, she met his highly pleased gaze.

  “Think that was slick, huh?”

  “Aye,” he said. “Matey.”

  “Is this going to continue all night?”

  He blinked. “I know a very good way of shutting me up.”

  “Do you now? Matey.”

  He looked at the barely started puzzle. “How set are you on finishing this thing?”

  “Not very. But we haven’t even gotten our wine yet.”

  “I’ll buy you a bottle.”

  “We’ll see,” she said, as she picked up half of a doubloon bit and connected it to its other half.

  He immediately put his mouth to her ear. “Shiver me timbers. Please.”

  She did it again. Laughed too loud. Leaned too close. Closed her eyes when at the first touch of his lips on her neck.

  At some point, he sat up and they stared at each other, grinning. His eyes were so full of mischief it was all she could do not to grab his hand and run for her room. Just as Wyatt squeezed her knee, the waiter showed up with their wine.

  She thanked him, took a sip and forced herself to search for the next piece of the puzzle. She realized it wasn’t working when she tried fitting the same sword into the same pirate’s hand three times. In a row. She needed another distraction.

  “So,” she said, no longer whispering, “do you like fishing?”

  Wyatt somehow did a completely still double take. “I’m not big on fishing, no. I tend to get my seafood at the dock.”

  “Good,” she said, and while she meant to continue this lively discussion, Wyatt took her hand in his, then moved it to his thigh. High up on his thigh. She felt his heat through his chinos. “Yeah, I think the puzzle can wait.”

  “Amen to that.” Wyatt pulled some bills from his pocket and laid them on the table.

  “No, this is my—”

  He caught her hand and pulled her to her feet. They abandoned the puzzle and their wine without so much as a backward glance as the two of them darted out from their love seat and hurried past the other tables.

  As soon as they made it to the lobby Wyatt asked, “Where to?”

  “Is that a joke?”

  “Does it help that I have all my fingers crossed?”

  “So, Ronny’s it is, then.”

  The way his eyes widened in absolute horror made her laugh.

  “Fine. If you’re going to be that way, I suppose we could go to my suite,” she said, and shivered as his expression changed. He was staring at her with so much longing her stolen breath got in the elevator way before she did.

  Chapter Twelve

  THE SUITE WAS exceptionally large. Done in tones of blue, white and polished wood, the living room had a fireplace, a roomy couch, a couple of wing chairs and a bank of windows that showcased the vast blue water of the Atlantic. “Pretty swanky,” Wyatt said. “How many suites do they have?”

  “No idea. Everything else was sold out. Now I’m just sorry that I didn’t let the firm pay for the damn thing. Grant had offered. Maybe I’ll turn it in as an expense anyway, since they’re already planning to can me if I stand my ground. Quite possibly if I don’t. You know, not being a team player and all.”

  He pulled her into his arms and looked into her gorgeous brown eyes. “The only time it makes sense to play for the team is when the team has earned your loyalty.”

  “I shouldn’t have brought it up.” She ran her hands up his back. “Let’s not talk about unpleasant things when there are so many enticing discussions we could be having.”

  “For instance...?”

  “Wine. I’m going to order a bottle. Anything you want to add to it?”

  He kissed her lightly, briefly brushing his lips against hers. “I’d like to say for the record that I’ve been thinking about you since I woke up this morning. I would have been fine if we hadn’t ended up here, but I’m glad we did.”

  “I would have been disappointed as all get-out if you hadn’t joined me. I’ve been dying to see those abs the waitresses are always mooning over.”

  “That’s it? You just want me for my abs?”

  “Don’t know. I haven’t seen them yet.”

  Wyatt grinned and slid his hands lower down her back, stopping short of her nice round bottom. She felt good and smelled good, which was having a predictable effect on his body. “You mean to check out all the optional equipment before you let me return the favor?”

  “I’m pretty sure what came standard is going to be fantastic.”

  “Quite the sweet-talker, aren’t you?”

  Cricket bubbled up with laughter. “Actually, no. I must’ve come up with that by accident.”

  Wyatt laughed with her. For so long he’d felt like an engine running on fumes, but not when he was with Cricket. A smile, a brief touch, a sassy quip, it didn’t take much to fire up something inside him.

  He probably should just get the ball rolling since his erection
was getting a little out of hand. “Now, wine. You have bottled water, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “And other necessities? I brought a couple condoms, but if there’s anything you’d care to add to the festivities, that would be A-okay with me.”

  “Wow, hadn’t thought beyond the basics.” She kissed him on the lips, but just as he was getting ready to take that to the next level, she broke away, and backed up straight into the bedroom.

  Which was large. The centerpiece was a four-poster, king-size bed. On one side was another fireplace and sliding glass doors that led to a balcony. On the other side was what looked to be one hell of a bathroom. He caught a glimpse of a large tub, which he’d make sure to remember. Later. After he had her all to himself in that bed.

  It took a moment to fold down the soft fancy sheets and turn on the overhead fan, which set the perfect breeze swirling around them. He removed his sports jacket as he listened to her order the wine, then unbuttoned his shirt. Belatedly, it occurred to him that they should’ve waited to call room service...later, in an hour or so. He sure as hell wasn’t going to feel like getting out of bed to answer the door.

  Although they could still delay the order. Before he could make the suggestion, she’d hung up the phone.

  She watched him shrug out of his shirt. “Holy mother-of-pearl, I’m totally keeping my clothes on. You’ll just have to get creative and work around it.”

  “Like hell you will.” He probably sounded like a caveman, but he hadn’t wanted a woman this much in a while. “Come on, take off that bra-top thing.”

  “Bra-top thing?” Evidently Cricket thought that was funny.

  “Now would be a good time.”

  “Is that right?” Her grin was a quarter shy and three-quarters wicked. It slackened when she noticed the ugly scar on his chest, but came right back.

  “How else can I kiss every inch of you?”

  Her gaze lifted and her mouth opened, but she didn’t speak at first, then said, “Well, I guess there’s no arguing with that.”

  “Nope.” He moved closer to her. “Just in case I can be of assistance.”

  “Let’s make sure you can get those chinos off without hurting yourself.”

  He looked down at the insistent bulge. “I’m pretty good with my hands. I think I’ll manage.”

  After reaching behind her back, she did that thing women did that always drove him a little nuts. He could tell she was undoing the strap, but only by the movement of her elbows. It shouldn’t have been hot at all. Then the top fluttered to the floor.

  Meaning to unfasten his button, his hand stilled completely. “Aren’t you a stunner,” he said, his voice lowered as his libido rose.

  Blushing, she motioned for him to hurry. “I was thinking,” she said, slipping off her sandals, and swaying just enough to make him want to moan. “We should postpone the wine.”

  “I agree. I meant to say something.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I was a little distracted.”

  “Oh. Then you’re forgiven.”

  “Thanks.” He slowed himself down as he unzipped his fly. “You need me to help you with that skirt?”

  “Nope. Although, I wouldn’t put up a fuss. Only after you’ve disrobed.”

  “I’m at your service, ma’am.”

  “I’m not old enough to be a ma’am.”

  “It’s got nothing to do with age, all to do with respect.”

  Her face changed. It wasn’t obvious like her grin or her sexy little pout. This was something new. A moment of clarity, he guessed. If he was wrong, he honestly didn’t want to know. Some things were meant to be unspoken.

  After dropping his chinos, he stepped out of them and folded them the way he’d been trained. His clothes had been set on a tufted bench at the base of the bed. Everything except for his boxer briefs.

  “Daniel Craig just dropped two spots,” Cricket said, giving him a leisurely once-over. Twice. “I’m used to guys with gym bodies. I’m not talking about weight lifters, either. I mean guys who take care of themselves and look good.” She finally met his eyes. “Not that I’ve dated a wide range...”

  Admittedly, Wyatt had started to wonder.

  “But you, sir, are a damn fine-looking man.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Wyatt said, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Quit stalling.”

  She let out a soft laugh. “I’m not.”

  This time when her gaze drew to the scar, he said, “Afghanistan,” and thankfully, she just nodded.

  He stepped closer to her as he lowered his briefs, using his thumbs. There was an adjustment made, then things moved smoothly down and down. When his underwear hit his feet, he stepped out of them, and reached with both his hands underneath Cricket’s skirt. Which he then proceeded to raise, little by little, letting his palms brush the silky skin that was slowly being revealed.

  “Oh.” Her voice caught on a gasp. “There went Matt Damon.”

  He’d reached the swell of her hips, and yet he managed through great determination to not rip the damn skirt off and throw her on the bed. He kept going, until he reached a pair of skimpy pink panties that matched her budded pink nipples. He could feel the heat from her body, smell the sweet scent of her skin. It was driving him crazy.

  “I have a confession to make,” he said, purposely moving his gaze to her eyes. And if he’d slowed down at her chest area, well, that couldn’t be helped.

  “What’s that?”

  “I have no idea what to do with this much skirt now that I’ve gotten it up here.”

  Her laughter was the perfect note. It set the tone, as if everything else hadn’t, for an evening that he wanted to savor.

  When she pushed down the whole thing, including those little panties, he thanked the stars that he’d somehow gotten his luck back. Now, if he could only hold on to it for the night, he’d be in heaven.

  * * *

  IT HAD TO be a dream, Cricket decided, even as she ran a hand across his muscled shoulders and down his broad, hard chest. Wyatt couldn’t be for real. For God’s sake the man actually listened. If she were to give him a quiz, she’d bet the farm that he’d be able to repeat everything she’d ever told him. Granted, she’d known him for only a few days, but that didn’t matter. Most of the guys she knew back in Chicago would’ve used the time to talk about every little detail that made them God’s gift to the universe.

  Even the way he touched her was a revelation. Slow, gentle hands, purposeful and thrilling, the long, deep kisses, while paying close attention to what she liked, what she craved and what she wanted to do more than once—which was just about everything. Wyatt had very clever hands. Among other things.

  This man was so different, and so...mysterious. She wanted to know much more than she did, and she wanted him to want to tell her.

  Then again, maybe it would be a mistake to learn more about him. Because, God, he was perfect. And she would be leaving soon, so why risk tarnishing her impression?

  No way was Cricket going to linger on that thought, not when he slid down, under the covers, leaving a damp trail between her breasts with his tongue.

  Closing her eyes, she clutched at his hair.

  Perhaps too hard.

  “You okay?” he asked, lifting his head from about halfway down the mattress.

  She nodded, unwilling to sit up until her heartbeat had eased away from the panic zone. No clue where that had come from. Was it the thought of leaving Temptation Bay? Of not having a job to return to?

  “Good. There are miles to go before we sleep.”

  “Miles, huh?”

  He gave her a crooked grin. “I sure hope so. Fair warning, you’ve already taken me past my old record.”

  “Twice is...well, two and a half times is your record? I don’t believe it.”

  “F
ine. My record after I turned thirty. Happy now?”

  “Wait. What was the record when you were in your twenties?”

  He just smiled and went back to pleasuring her until she was a shivering mass of need.

  * * *

  SOMETHING WAS RINGING. Her phone? Or was it a dream? But that couldn’t be because Cricket had nodded out for only about two minutes, five tops. Probably her phone. Thankfully, it stopped before she’d even opened her eyes.

  * * *

  “CRICKET?”

  That was Wyatt’s husky voice.

  “Huh?”

  “That’s your phone,” he murmured, his face buried against the side of her neck. He slowly moved the arm he’d thrown over her while they’d slept, but she caught it and held him firmly in place.

  She snuggled closer and he lightly squeezed her bare ass. “It’ll go away. Honest. Go back to sleep.” She breathed out a yawn, and that was it.

  * * *

  “CRICKET?”

  This time, she managed to lift her head a little. No way was she opening her eyes, but at least she’d made an effort. “Huh?”

  “Your cell keeps going off. I think it might be important.”

  “Important?” Her head dropped again. Damn telemarketers. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “It’s six forty-five.”

  “A.M.?” She opened one eye to a slit. Sunlight was sneaking in through the gap between the drapes.

  “It’s still ringing. If you tell me where it is, I’ll go get it for you.”

  “You sure it isn’t yours?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Dammit. If it’s a telemarketer, I’ll—” It dawned on her that it was probably Grant.

  It would be like him to call early and wake her. The bastard. She would’ve preferred a telemarketer.

  Wyatt was next to her, under the covers, his hair wild on the white pillow, his scruff darker. Their legs were tangled together, and neither made a move to break apart. “Want me to get it?” he asked, and started to pull away.

  The room faced west, and was far too bright. Her cell was in the other room, by her purse because no one was supposed to call her. At least not at this ungodly hour.