A SEAL's Secret

by Tawny Weber

  Prefer? Livi frowned. Nobody had ever asked her that. Pauline had taken her higher. But Derrick had taken responsibility for launching her. She wondered where she factored into their calculations.

  Since saying that would sound whiny, she just shrugged.

  “You’re doing a different workout than the one you showed me, though, aren’t you?” she asked instead, figuring changing the subject completely was much better than tiptoeing around what wouldn’t be said.

  Mitch’s frown made her wonder if she’d have been better off tiptoeing.

  “Why would you say I’m doing a different workout than the one I gave you?”

  “I was just making conversation.” Brows tight, Livi shrugged. “I didn’t mean to suggest anything.”

  And she really hadn’t meant to irritate him. Especially since her pancakes were now cold and his chest looked so hot. She’d been starting to have a few ideas for a breakfast substitute. Maybe her shyness wasn’t a drawback, Livi mulled with a sigh. Maybe it was a warning that she’d be better off keeping her mouth shut most of the time.

  He barely shifted, just setting his elbows on either side of his all-but-licked-clean plate. His expression was mild, his eyes calm. But her stomach clenched tightly, because Livi felt as if he’d pulled on battle gear.

  “I didn’t think you were making a negative suggestion,” he said, his smile friendly. How did he do that? She knew he was upset, or at the very least, disturbed. Yet he managed to look upbeat and calm. It was freaky.

  “I’m just curious why you’d think I’m not following the workout.”

  “I wasn’t implying that you’re not working out,” she said quickly, waving her hand in the air. “You’re in great shape. It’s obvious that you work out regularly.”

  Neither her words nor her big, cheesy smile had any effect on him. The pleasant smile stayed, the calm interest in his eyes didn’t flicker. And he still had that intense, I-know-thousands-of-ways-of-making-you-talk vibe going on.

  Livi shoved her hand through her sleep-tousled hair and tried to figure out at which exact point this morning had taken a sharp turn toward hell.

  But she couldn’t think with Mitch staring at her like that.

  “Your muscles are structured differently,” she said, the words rushing out to bounce between them. “The workout you outlined, the one you talked about—it’s well-balanced and hits all the muscle groups hard. But a part of the series focuses more deeply on the lats than on the biceps.”

  Mitch shook his head. He’d lost the laser look and now just seemed confused.

  “If you’d been doing that particular workout, your lats, your upper back, would be tighter. Don’t get me wrong,” she said quickly, her eyes huge as she waved one hand to shoo aside any offense he might take. “You’re in incredible condition. But if you’d been working your upper back that intensively, you wouldn’t be so stiff, since the muscles wouldn’t have mended completely.”

  “You’re saying I’m too stiff?”

  Livi peered at him, trying to decide if that was a double entendre.

  “Not too stiff. Simply healed,” she said carefully. “That program you showed me included a lot of emphasis on weighted pull-ups, often using another man’s bodyweight. That sort of giant-set routine would mean you were consistently pushing your lat muscles past the point of fatigue and giving them very little time to heal. Or harden. Yours are solid, but I noticed last night that your thigh muscles are tense.”

  “Did you?” he murmured, his wicked grin offering its own double entendre.

  Livi’s lips twitched, but she didn’t smile. Instead, she leaned forward, her hands fisted in her lap. She wasn’t sure why, but it was suddenly vital he understood that she knew what she was doing. That he respected that her career was about more than teaching sexy women how to fold a dollar bill with their butt cheeks.

  “I’m guessing you’ve shifted your workout program to be something that puts a lot of stress on your glutes and hamstrings. Probably intervals that focus on climbing and running on the beach, if I had to guess.”

  His smile spread, slow and pleased. Mitch pushed away from the table, this time not giving her a chance to move her hand before he grabbed it. He pulled her to her feet and right into his arms.

  “Damn, you’re good. I’ve worked with some top fitness pros in my day, but you could kick all their asses,” he told her, right before he lifted her into his arms and took her mouth.

  He’d just swept her off her feet. Literally. Livi melted at the romance of it, even as her pride sang a little at his words. His tongue swept over hers then, and everything—romance, pride, worry—all faded into a hazy glow of passion.

  * * *

  HOW THE HELL had she made it seem so easy?

  Mitch glared at the pot of funky-looking milk, tilting it this way then that and watching the top layer ripple like thin plastic.

  That couldn’t be good.

  He glanced at the waiting mug, its chocolate shavings already heaped in and ready, then at the milk scum, and debated. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. He wouldn’t give it to Livi, of course, but he could try it himself, just to see. He might have even come up with a new delicacy.

  Chocolate milk-scum surprise.

  He dipped his finger in the still scalding hot liquid then and gingerly tasted it.

  The surprise would be keeping it down, he decided with a grimace before dumping it in the sink and starting over. Clean pot, fresh milk... What else?

  He tried to remember what Livi had done when she’d made it, but the details were hazed by all the lusty memories. Or more likely, because he’d been more focused on what she’d said—or hadn’t said—about the holidays than he had in learning the nuances of not ruining milk.

  He was pretty sure she’d had a spoon, though.

  Mitch grabbed one, this time putting the heat on medium-low instead of high. Stirring the cold milk—maybe that helped keep it from getting gross as it heated—he thought back to Livi’s description of her holiday.

  She’d said her ex had left the previous Christmas, but she’d spent the one before in Vail. Had he been with her? Livi wasn’t the brag-about-one-man-while-with-another type, but he’d still come away with the impression that she’d been alone.

  Who the hell left their wife alone on Christmas?

  Sure, it happened a lot in the military, but only when a guy was on assignment. A guy would have to be a major douche to leave his pretty young wife hanging alone on the ski slopes for the holidays.

  Then again, he’d ended their marriage the next year at the holidays, so maybe he was closer to a captain douche than a major.

  Grinning a little at his lame joke, Mitch watched the milk start to form tiny bubbles around the edges of the pot.

  He had no problem hating the guy on principle, but he had a feeling that once he started digging, he’d find plenty of other reasons to hate him just fine.

  Starting with putting that look of doubt in Livi’s eyes.

  Not the shyness. Mitch recognized that for what it was now. Even though they’d spent the last week inside her apartment, mostly naked, just the two of them delighting in the pleasures of each other’s bodies...

  Mitch frowned. What had he been thinking about again?

  Oh, yeah.

  Livi was shy.

  He knew her tells now. She put on a bright smile, a little too bright, when she was nervous. She had amazing control of her body language—he didn’t know if that was because of her vocation or her time in front of the camera—so she’d look perfectly relaxed and at ease. But her fingers always gave her away. Flexing and moving if she thought they were hidden, clenched tight if she couldn’t tuck them away.

  Those videos—hell, the eight-month cross-country tour she’d done to promote the videos—those must have been hel
l for her. She’d brushed it off when he’d said as much, calling it a learning experience that had had more benefits than shortcomings.

  She’d said it was her new manager who’d put her front and center in those videos. Call it a hunch, but Mitch was pretty sure her ex had had some role in that, too.

  That she was better off without him went without saying.

  Still, Mitch wouldn’t mind if she had a few things to say. There were details he’d like to know. Things he was curious about.

  He’d watched a lot of marriages fall apart, had always figured it was as much an occupational hazard as, well, being shot at. Yeah, it was a risk, but the results could be mitigated with a little forethought.

  A solid marriage? It could be done.

  He’d seen it done.

  And if it could be done in the military, it could damned well be done by a civilian with a classy wife like Livi.

  Not that he was thinking crazy thoughts like marriage. Not in the he-was-ready-to-do-it sense. More like...curious musings about how it worked. Nothing wrong with curiosity.

  Mitch tested the milk with his finger again and pulled a satisfied face. Not bad this time.

  He poured it over the chocolate shavings then stirred, careful not to slop it over the edges of Livi’s pretty purple mugs. He wondered if she realized her entire apartment was decorated in ocean hues. Calm, soothing ocean hues. He wouldn’t mind adding a little of her other moods, sharp cobalt and the edgy white of the storm-swept seas. Would Livi go for that? He had a gorgeous glass dish he’d picked up in Corfu years ago because it had reminded him of lightning on the water. Maybe he’d send it to her for Christmas.

  Mitch grabbed a can from the refrigerator and gave it a good shake, then popped the lid and added a hefty spray of white foam to the top of one of the mugs. Figuring he’d keep her company, he added it to the second one, too.

  He grabbed a couple of the candy canes he’d picked up in his store run. He looked at the whipped-cream-heaped mugs, then at the cellophane-wrapped candy, and weighed his options. Going with the easiest route, he simply crushed them in his fist, poured the peppermint dust into his other palm and threw away the wrapper.

  No wonder his mom had gone the “toss a cup of water in the microwave then stir in brown powder” route.

  Some things were worth the extra work.

  He tried his hand at fancy, sprinkling the crushed candy cane over the whipped cream in a heart shape. He tilted his head to the side and frowned. It looked like Texas. He sprinkled a little more to fill it in and called that one his.

  And went a little slower doing the next one.

  Some people were worth the extra effort.

  “Are you having fun?”

  Mitch didn’t start. His pulse barely changed. But damn, she’d surprised him.

  He glanced over his shoulder, a warm smile spreading at the sight of Livi. Her hair was a sleep-rumpled curtain of gold, falling over her robe like the sun against the ocean. The silk fabric skimmed, cupped and accented, reminding him of the perfection beneath.

  “I made you a treat,” he said, lifting both mugs and turning to offer her one.

  “I thought I smelled chocolate,” she said with a sleepy laugh as she took hers. Her eyes went soft and her mouth rounded in a soft O before she pressed trembling lips together and gave him a tremulous look.

  Mitch cringed. She had that look women got before they burst into tears and claimed they were happy. He didn’t care what they called them—tears were tears and they sucked.

  “You’re so sweet,” she said after a moment. Thankfully she said it in a tone with plenty of happy but no tears in evidence.

  “You haven’t tasted it yet,” he warned. Then, because that’s the kind of guy he was, he took the first sip to make sure it wasn’t dangerous to her palate. Hot, sweet and just a little crunchy. Maybe he should have stirred the chocolate longer? Still, it wasn’t bad.

  “It’s wonderful,” Livi told him, running her tongue over her upper lip to catch all the whipped cream. “You’re wonderful.”

  “No arguing with that,” Mitch decided, gesturing to the living room. Once they were settled on the couch, Livi’s long legs crossed over his lap, he took another drink and initiated maneuvers. Let Operation Information commence. “I’m not sure this is what you meant by peppermint in your chocolate, though.”

  “It’s fabulous.” Her eyes locked on his. Livi speared her tongue through the white cream and candy bits and curled it into her mouth. Damn, she had a good tongue. Getting hot and hard, especially with her feet rubbing against his thighs and climbing higher by the second, Mitch accepted the challenge. She had a way of fogging his brain, but he wanted information. This was a good time to test whether he could work through the fog.

  “I know it’s not topped with that home-whipped cream you talked about, but is it at least close to what you remembered?” he prompted. All he needed was the opening. As soon as she gave it to him, he’d be able to find out everything he wanted.

  Livi didn’t give him the opening. She didn’t even respond. Her face a study of conflicts—surprise, delight, worry and frustration—she deprived his lap of her feet, set her mug on the table and got up to cross the room.

  “When did you get this?” she asked quietly, her back to him.

  Mitch didn’t have to see around her to know what she was looking at. He’d set the little potted pine on her dining table before he’d started the hot chocolate.

  “When I got the canned whipped cream and candy canes.” Mitch got to his feet, but didn’t cross the room.

  Unlike her tongue trick telling him how she’d felt about those, he couldn’t read how she felt about the tree. He’d thought she’d love it. He’d actually been anticipating a little wild thank-you sex.

  He heard her take a deep breath and decided to kiss that anticipation goodbye.

  Then she turned to face him.

  Mitch had faced a lot of things in his life, and he always faced them head-on. He specialized in danger, reveled in finding ways to overcome odds. He was the best for a reason... He was trained to be.

  In that moment, for the first time in his life, Mitch knew what it was like to want to turn tail and run.

  “Thank you.” She stepped forward, arms coming up as if to launch herself at him.

  “Uh.” He held up one hand out to stop her. “You don’t come near me if you’re doing that. You wanna have sex, I’m your man. You want to fight and argue, I’ll step right up. You need to get advice, to talk, to have someone killed, I can arrange that. But you cannot and will not cry on me.”

  “But you are so sweet,” she said, adding a few extra syllables to the last word because she was trying to catch her breath.

  The couch pressed against the back of his calves, reminding him that jumping over it and running would be truly pathetic.

  “Livi, can you imagine having to get on stage in front of a few thousand people and give a speech? Totally unprepared, out of the blue, on a subject you don’t know?”

  Her tears stopped, but her breath didn’t even out. If anything, it got shakier. Eyes wide in horror and her skin going chalky against the tear tracks, she shuddered.

  “That’s how I feel seeing you cry,” he said quietly.

  “Ah.” She glanced at the tree again and stared at the floor for a few moments before meeting his eyes. When she did, hers were clear, her smile was calm and, other than the faint sheen of damp on her cheeks, her demeanor was completely tear-free. “Sorry. I’ve never had anyone get me a tree before, so it took me by surprise.”

  And there it was.

  His opening.

  Relaxing, ready to move on with the mission, Mitch settled back on the couch. Then he saw the bottom part of her robe fluttering, her fingers clenching and unclenching the fabric behind her back.


  She was doing the same thing she did with her shyness.

  Suppressing it, hiding it. Probably suffering for it.

  “C’mere,” Mitch said with a sigh, getting to his feet again. When she shook her head, he simply crooked his finger.

  Livi pressed her lips together, glanced over her shoulder at the tree and flew into his arms with a sob. Mitch’s gut clenched, but he ignored it as he ran soothing hands over her back.

  She cried silently. Hot, wet tears soaked his shoulder. Other than her breath, and the fingers clutching, unclutching, then clutching his back again, she barely moved.

  But he felt as if she were falling apart.

  Over the tiny Christmas tree? Or something else?

  Whatever it was, she only cried for a minute or two, thank God. Then she pulled it all back in with a deep breath.

  “I thought tears freaked you out,” she said, giving him a questioning look through damp eyes.

  Mitch pressed her face back to his chest. It wasn’t as bad if he didn’t have to see the tears. At least, that’s what he was going to tell himself.

  “That’s no reason for you to hide your reaction. You’ve got a right to feel whatever you feel. Why should you pretend otherwise? I’m a big boy, I’ll deal.”

  This time when Livi looked at him, it was to give him a frown.

  “But now I know it bothers you, I just won’t cry over things.”

  “You mean you’ll put my comfort over your own feelings? That’d make me a total ass with major control issues,” Mitch said with a dismissive laugh. “Babe, you embrace whatever you’re feeling. Good or bad, it should be up to you to feel it and decide if you want to go with it or not. That’s nobody else’s call.”

  Mitch was ready to give himself a nice pat on the back for that little pep talk in spite of his tear phobia. Then he caught the look in her eyes.

  A baffled sort of pain, as if she didn’t understand his words. Or, he realized with a sigh, couldn’t quite let herself believe them.

  Looked like he didn’t need to hate her ex on principle alone. He had a thousand reasons, all of them right there in her pained expression.