Cruisin' for a SEAL

by Sharon Hamilton

  Kyle was walking hand in hand with Christy.

  Nah, he’s got to have the same radar I have.

  One of the buses backfired as it headed up the hill after spilling its content of tourists. His group’s immediate reaction was to cover the women because the echo sounded like gunfire. As the men straightened their muscular frames, Mark saw Sophia standing amidst a cluster of adults. After temporarily lowering a yellow sign with the number 5 on it, she extended her arm up and stood straight, like a beacon for the confused tourists who had scattered into the courtyard.

  Their eyes met. He felt his delicious attraction to her, the need to protect her, go to her and give comfort and aid. And of course, more, if he was totally honest.

  Kyle brought the group into a cooperative artisan studio while Mark headed straight for Sophia. He checked with his LPO before they could disappear through the doorway of the shop, and all he saw was Kyle’s three-finger salute.

  Frantic Italian was being spoken all around him, but everything faded as he came upon her, giving her a hug. “You okay?” he asked before he could let her go. She wasn’t squirming, but God, the urge to kiss her was overwhelming.

  “Happens all the time. I’ve got the jitters, I guess, just like everyone else,” she said in a whisper back at him. “Thanks.” Then she leaned in close to his ear. “Tonight?”

  He nodded. She held up her hands, making five on one hand and three on the other. Eight.

  Mark stepped backwards to follow Kyle and the rest of his group, and motioned with one hand and a single digit. Six.

  She frowned as her group of tourists charged him, headed for the shop opening as well. She held her hands up again, and shrugged. Eight.

  He blew her a kiss and nodded, disappearing inside before her enthusiastic group overran him.

  Mark slipped around the corner just inside, behind a display of hanging tablecloths. As Sophia crossed the threshold, he pulled her arm, yanking her into the private space beneath the bright yellow and white, hand-embroidered tablecloths. Amid lace and fresh linen smell, he claimed her lips, holding her tight against his package. He was rewarded with the little whimper he now dreamed about just about every waking second of the day.

  “Baby, we gotta get you fired. I can’t handle this,” he said as his hands roamed over her ass, as he felt the delicious juncture between her legs press against the ridge of his erection. Sophia’s sighs and smooth skin were adding fuel to the fire that was ignited because this was something they were not supposed to do, but couldn’t help themselves. She giggled as he quickly reached inside the back of her pants and squeezed the flesh of her butt cheeks.

  “Marko, Marko, il mio amore, ho bisogno del tuo tocco così tanto che non lo sopporto.” she whispered.

  “Don’t know what you said, sweetheart, but liking that you used that word amore—that one I recognize, at least.”

  “Marko, Marko,” she said breathlessly into his mouth, “I am consumed by you.”

  “Well that I love, too. You’re best in English, but I’ll take whatever you can dish out, baby.” He hugged her close, kissing the side of her neck, loving the feel of her urgency for him. He usually found himself holding some woman off, usually felt smothered. With Sophia, he wanted it all. Wanted even more. Being wrapped up in white linen and flowers didn’t temper his libido. Her tiny growl like a small bear cub was such a turn-on, he couldn’t focus on anything else.

  Until Kyle pulled back the tablecloths and exposed them.

  “Gezuz. Fuckin. Christ.” he barked, “Just get a room, would ya?”

  Sophia’s eyes widened as she pulled her hand from the front of Mark’s pants and held her own up, since Mark had unbuttoned her top two buttons.

  Mark wasn’t sure what to say. He was embarrassed for Sophia. Several of her charges were peering at her above Kyle’s shoulder, with nods of approval.

  “Don’t think you two realized you were not nearly as under cover as you thought.” He pointed down to their feet. Mark could see that even though most their bodies were hidden, anyone could have seen them from just below their knees to their tennis shoes. His insides smiled at the thought that he hadn’t noticed something he would have had eagle eyes for in the arena. Her proximity was changing him, and he actually liked it.

  “All right, kiddies. Just didn’t want you guys to properly embarrass yourselves. My job is done,” Kyle said, grinning and throwing Sophia his blue charm. He let the tablecloths fall back around them.

  “I guess we better wait for 8 o’clock, then, baby?”

  “I think so. But I won’t be thinking of anything else but what you’re going to do to me in that little boat at eight.”

  “Count on it.”

  MARK WATCHED HER thread her way through the rows of leather purses, through displays of necklaces and lace shawls. Her little smiles thrilled him. She was sighing as she talked to people, a blush on her cheeks. She’d scan the room, looking for him, and he’d hide, only to pop out when she least expected it. He’d walk in front of her, trying to cut through a line, and brush against her, leaning down to whisper, “Excuse me, darlin’,” in front of her group, who seemed to be enjoying it as much as he was.

  He’d not felt this preoccupied by a woman in his entire life. Just being goofy, playing little tricks on her, finding any excuse to get his fingers on a sensitive body part of hers in some totally inappropriate but hidden way, was so much fun he didn’t want to join his group on the bus when Kyle signaled him.

  “Remember what Moshe said, Mark.”

  “I don’t fuckin’ care,” he said. The rest of their group had mounted the bus steps. “I’m in love with her, man.”

  “Sure you are. Who wouldn’t be,” Kyle said.

  “Fuck you, Kyle. It isn’t like that.” He was looking for Sophia’s group, since their bus had also arrived.

  “Come on, you sick puppy. Maybe I can get some beers into you at lunch and then you’ll wise up.”

  Mark frowned. “Like when you met Christy? That kind of wise? You fuckin’ almost forgot to pull your cord one time, I’m told.”

  “That’d never happen and you know it,” Kyle said as he patted Mark on the shoulder. “You’re gonna need your strength, so let’s hit the road.”

  Mark did as instructed. As they pulled out of the parking lot, he waved to Sophia, just before he saw Roberto come barreling out of a private taxi and head straight for her.

  “Wait! Wait!” he called out to the driver, who stopped. He began to run down the aisle, Kyle right after him, trying to restrain him.

  “No you don’t. You stay right here.”

  “That Brazilian dick just drove up in his taxi. Not leaving her alone with him.”

  Kyle shrugged his shoulders, resigned to letting him go. “We’re waiting, then,” but he turned to face a sea of groans. “Okay, I guess we’re not.”

  Mark ran toward Sophia. Roberto had hold of her wrist and, just as he had done in the dance demonstration, had twisted it back painfully.

  There was only one course of action, and Mark knew it wasn’t smart at all. The Brazilian immediately crouched for the blow he thought he was going to get. At the last minute, Mark landed a kick to the dancer’s knees and watched as he nearly collapsed on the cobblestones. But the guy was like a cat, pushing off with his hands and righting himself, throwing Mark a roundhouse kick that sent him back into a flowerbed.

  “Stop it!” Sophia shouted. Several tour bus drivers stood by watching stoically. No way would there be assistance coming from any of those rotund gentlemen. A shopkeeper was on her cell phone. Mark figured she was calling the local police, and he didn’t want anything to do with them.

  “You leave her alone,” Mark said as he righted himself. Roberto had a wild, almost feral look in his dazed eyes. His grin and squint were pure evil. “She’s not yours to abuse and play with. Especially now,” Mark added.

  The wide smile he got back would have been sickeningly sweet, if it hadn’t been for the hatred shooting from th
e dancer’s eyes. “She is not yours.”

  Like hell she’s not. I own every cell in her body, and that’s the way she wants it, you cretin.

  Mark backed up, trying to look compliant in case the police were just around the corner. He didn’t mind that he looked weak to the emboldened Brazilian, who was still going to come after him. Sore loser didn’t even begin to describe the man. Deranged was closer.

  The sound of the two-toned police or emergency vehicle pierced the sunny late morning. Roberto rubbed his palms on his designer jeans and sneered at Mark, who still stood in the flowerbed. Sophia was distraught.

  The shopkeeper ran to meet the little blue and white car, and entered into a heated discussion. The two police got out slowly and sauntered over to Roberto, who didn’t appear to notice them, his glare was so focused on Mark.

  Although Mark wasn’t sure, it appeared the shopkeeper had told them Mark had come to Sophia’s aid. He decided it was safe to walk over to her, but she met him halfway and flew into his arms.

  The signs of a budding love and a third wheel were probably obvious to the police, who took Roberto away in the car without handcuffing him. The diabolical laser look he shot from the rear window as he was being driven off would have been exciting, if it didn’t mean more problems for them all aboard the cruise ship.

  “What was he so pissed off about?” Mark asked her.

  “I was supposed to help him this afternoon. But the tour won’t get back in time. I left him a message, because I knew he wouldn’t let me go.”

  “He can’t do that, baby. He doesn’t own you.”

  She wept into his chest. “He scares me, Mark. He really scares me now.”

  “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but maybe it’s about time you called your fiancé and told him what is going on.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why? Sweetheart, maybe he could help.”

  “He’ll know. Matheus will know. He’ll dig it out of me.”

  And there he was. He was fucked in so many ways. He knew this was the woman who could rock his world, not a replacement for Sophie, but her Italian twin, the fun-loving woman who would bring him back alive.

  Although it was confusing, he loved the being totally at the mercy of this little woman. The urge to protect, keep safe, and claim her for himself alone was clouding his judgment. Yet he willingly went there. He’d fallen for her so easily it made him dizzy. Some common sense drained into him as his little head settled down for a nice nap.

  So, even though it wasn’t wise, he had to ask her. “Just when were you going to tell Matheus? Or is that not in your plan, Sophia?”

  Her confused look broke his heart.

  Just great. She hasn’t gotten to that part yet.

  So was it going to be like this? She hadn’t made up her mind. She needed him, but was it in the right kind of way? And, once again, had he jumped in and fallen for a woman he couldn’t have? One he’d met too late and she’d died on him. And this one, with her whole life deliciously ahead of her, achingly alive and so full of the spirit of life itself, a life that was something he wanted to be a part of in some way, this one had made a different choice. Who was he to question that choice? Make her come to a decision for him, when she hadn’t convinced herself?

  The sad look she gave him was just as hard as watching her die in front of him like Sophie.

  “Ah, I get it. You’re going to use the cruise to make up your mind. I mean, why tell him about us if you might still want to marry him when we get to Rio, that what you’re saying?”

  “No, Mark. That isn’t it.”

  “Then what is it, Sophia? ’Cause I gotta know.” He held her delicate pointed chin with his thumb and two forefingers. Her warm brown eyes were moist with the early signs of some serious tears. She was filled with the lust for him, he could see that. Hell, he could almost smell it. But she was on overwhelm, confused.

  And that wasn’t any good for him. Not that it stopped his heart from wanting to reach out from his chest and pull her to him. Not that it was going to soothe the ache he felt, once again, not being able to have something he so desperately believed was right on so many levels.

  “I need a little time to think. This has all happened so fast for me, Mark.”

  “Me too, baby.” Anything else he would say would be just bullshit. Like, “Oh it’s okay, take as much time as you want. I don’t want you until you can commit a hundred percent. No sense getting involved if it isn’t going to go anywhere.”

  Those were the lies he would have said, if he’d not cared so much for her, and for himself. If he couldn’t be honest, he’d say nothing. She was going to have to come to him, because he didn’t like the man he’d be to take her away from someone else. He’d told himself she’d made the choice already.

  You fuckin’ miscalculated.

  He realized how his timing sucked. Finally free from having to worry about Roberto, so they could spend the entire night together, anywhere they wanted, not just on the little boat, now he couldn’t do that because it would be wrong.

  He thought about her all the way back to town as he rode in Roberto’s taxi, even having to bear the humiliation of paying for the Brazilian’s ride up the mountain, as well as his ride down.

  Yeah. Your timing sucked big time. And now you’re going to go back to the ship and gamble too much, ogle someone’s ugly daughter or be the fantasy come true for some older woman sitting at the bar.

  There was nothing honorable about the way heartache felt.

  Or about the way it could be medicated.

  But he was going to give it the college try.

  AT PORT, HE found the Moroccans lined up in front the glass picture windows of a port agent set up to handle requests from the crew. A bank of phones was on one wall, occupied two and three deep with people of every nationality. Bundles were being shipped home, mail retrieved. The Moroccans carried a box so heavy that required two of them to manage, and after they went out the doors without seeing him, they headed for the belly of the ship.

  Mark wanted to know what was in that box and why it was so heavy. He knew it wasn’t costumes or an instrument.

  One of them tripped on the gangway’s bottom rung and the box landed on one corner. The tall one was shouting so much he drew lots of attention. When he saw Mark watching them, he shut up and bent his shoulder and all his attention to the task at hand. The three of them worked as one crab-like unit, doing something in unison they all clearly felt was important.

  That worried Mark the most. He would have to tell Kyle about it and see if Moshe could take a look inside that package. Just in case something was about to go down. He had that sixth sense.

  Maybe it was good Sophia wouldn’t be wrapping her thighs around his waist tonight. Maybe he needed to think, too.

  Chapter 22

  ‡

  MAKSYM WAS RESTLESS and didn’t like the news he’d received today, delivered in clipped Russian, even though the Moroccan knew how much he hated it and could speak almost perfect English.

  The Wolf had delivered a package to the shipping station at Tenerife, and Maksym was told to arrange that the dancers, or whatever the hell they were, be allowed off ship to claim it.

  He’d had conversations with the Wolf back in Genoa, and then again in Savona. But since the ship had left port, not a word from him, except through the Moroccan mob. He wondered where the guy had found these yo-yos. He didn’t doubt that they could fight and fight hard. But did they fight smart?

  The answer to that question was a resounding no.

  So why, then, would the Wolf put his trust and faith in them, and not in him, an experienced Ukrainian naval officer. Who was now third or fourth in line to run a cruise ship, of course. But no matter, he still was plenty busy being responsible for more people than these skinny terrorists would meet in a whole lifetime. He’d been a war hero, for chrissakes. He had medals, even though he couldn’t show them off now. He’d given them to his girls as a parting
gift, the only thing, other than his DNA, that he could leave them. Before they left his left forever.

  Helena had come into his life at just the right moment. He’d been morose and spending time at bars in Prague, where he enjoyed the flow of the city, where he could get drunk every night and not be hated. He liked to take his medicine down at little dives by the river, since being close to any waterway was soothing for him, and so he wouldn’t make a spectacle of himself at some expensive restaurant in the old town square. He liked the city before they painted all the buildings yellow and bright rose. The Russian period. And, of course, the waterfront girls were more grateful. A little bit of money went a long way for a weary seaman away from home and family, such as himself.

  That had been a mistake. He’d fallen in love with a dancer, Eniko. Her long, shapely form was a thing of beauty. He watched her and, for a bit, didn’t worry about what his wife was doing late at night, working for the Russian Embassy. The girls were safe. He was making good money. And he needed a little release.

  Eniko had first fucked him in a farmer’s field after one of her gigs. He drove her there, and she didn’t ask. She gave the best head he’d ever experienced, but her hot, lithe body made him hard again almost instantly and they fucked like rabbits so hard, his knees had bloodied.

  She was a fun girl with simple needs. He must have looked to her like a knight in shining armor. He’d forgotten to tell her about the wife and kids, and when he came home one day and found her sitting in his living room, across from his wife, he knew he’d seriously messed his life, or what was left of it. He suspected it would cost him his family, and it did.

  Of course, what he didn’t know at the time was that his wife was already banging the diplomat and making her exit plans. He’d lost his wife that day, he’d thought, because of his own stupidity. Truth was, he’d lost her nearly six months earlier. All he managed to do that day was break Eniko’s heart, too. The sweet little dancer who naively thought she would surprise him. She deserved way more than she got. Way more.