“So you came to respect each other over time,” Brittany said.
“Nah,” Wes said. “It wasn’t as gradual as that. We started looking at each other differently on day three of Hell Week. The instructors were riding us, trying to get us to quit. They targeted the pair of us as losers and were trying to weed us out from the real men who were going to make it to the end. So they’re screaming at us, and Bobby’s getting angrier and angrier, and I just kind of turn to him and say, ‘Are you quitting?’ And he says, ‘Hell no.’ And I say, ‘Well, then stop listening to them. They’re the losers. Just shut them out. Turn the effin’ volume down in your head. Because I’m not quitting either, man. They could hold a gun to my head, and I still won’t ring that bell.’ There’s a bell, you know, that you have to ring when you quit. It’s a major deal, like there’s a little ‘I quit’ ceremony. You really have to want to quit to go through with it. But a lot of guys do quit.
“Anyway, Bobby looked at me and I looked at him, and again, I knew he saw the same thing in my eyes that I saw in his. We weren’t going to quit. I suddenly recognized that in him—the fact that he was in for the duration. And right then, all of sudden, like whoosh, I was freaking glad—like, thank you Mary mother of God—that he was my swim buddy. Because other guys’ buddies were dropping out left and right, and they were suddenly on their own, or getting teamed up with someone else who’d been quit on. And quitting is contagious, you know.”
“Yeah,” Brittany said, finishing her second beer. “I do know.”
He took the bottle from her and rinsed it in the sink. “So we made it through Hell Week and Phase One of training, but we were still kind of tiptoeing around each other when I got the call from Colleen—about Ethan. That’s when Bobby and I became real friends. He didn’t need to go home with me. I didn’t ask him to, but he gave me all this B.S. about how swim buddies had to stick together, yada, yada, yada, and he wouldn’t let me get on that plane alone.
“I was damn glad he was there. And we’ve been tight ever since. You want another beer, babe?”
Brittany laughed. “Are you willing to carry me to bed?”
Wes laughed, too. Yes. Yes, he was willing. He looked at her, and she was looking back at him, still smiling. But he couldn’t for the life of him figure out if she was actually flirting or just making another completely innocent suggestion. “After only three beers? What kind of wimp are you?”
“The kind of wimp who rarely drinks more than one or two beers in the course of a week.” She pointed to his cargo shorts. “You’re ringing.”
He was, indeed. He took out his cell phone and flipped it open. “Skelly.”
“Wes, it’s Amber. I’m sorry to bother you so late.”
He glanced at the clock above the stove. It was barely even 2200. “It’s not late. What’s up?”
“I’ve been getting these really weird phone calls all night,” she told him. Her voice sounded very young and small over the phone. She was either seriously frightened. Or a good actress. Hmmm. “It’s as if someone’s calling and then hanging up. And I heard this scary noise from outside, like a loud thump.”
“Call the police,” he told her. “Do it right now.”
“I did,” Amber said. “They came out, but they didn’t see anyone or anything and… So they left. But then I heard the noise again. I’m not going to call the police again. They already think I’m a flake.”
Brittany was watching him, curiosity in her eyes.
“Will you come over?” Amber begged. “I just… I would feel much better if you came and checked out the yard and—”
“All right,” he said. “I’m on my way.” He’d caved, mostly so he wouldn’t be tempted to stay and open that third beer for Brittany—so he wouldn’t have to carry her to her bed.
God, he really wanted to carry her to her bed.
Hoo-boy.
“Thank you, thank you,” Amber was saying as he shut the phone on her.
“She heard a scary noise,” Wes told Brittany.
Who laughed. “Yeah, right. Twenty bucks says when you get there, she answers the door in a negligee, saying ‘Save me! Save me!’”
He grinned. “Do women still wear negligees? I thought most women liked wearing big T-shirts to bed.”
“I don’t know about most women,” Britt said. “But I happen to have a few negligees at the bottom of my lingerie drawer.”
Oh, my God. “Really?” Crap, his voice actually cracked, like he was seventeen again.
“In the event of an emergency,” she said, her smile widening. “That’s what my mother said when I was throwing out my entire life after I split up with Quentin. ‘Keep a few, Britt—in the event of an emer gency.’ Like what? Aliens invade, time to go put on a sexy nightgown?”
“Well, as far as I’m concerned, it sure as hell couldn’t hurt.”
“I should have thrown them away,” Brittany said. “I’m not the planned seduction type. It’s just…it’s too weird.”
What was she telling him?
“I mean, what does a guy think,” she added, “when he comes over and a woman’s wearing something like that?”
“He thinks hooray,” Wes said.
“Yeah, but what if he’s not into her? Amber’s been giving you signals left and right, and because you’re still hung up on Lana, you’re certainly not leaping for joy.”
“It’s not so much that I’m still hung up on Lana,” he said, desperately trying to figure out what Britt was really saying to him. “Because, you know, I’ve been hung up on her for years and I’ve had, uh…relationships with women during that time. It’s more that… I don’t know. I guess Amber’s not my type.”
Brittany blew out a burst of disbelieving laughter. “Are you kidding? She would dance naked on a table without blinking. She’s exactly your type.”
His mouth was dry and he had to moisten his lips before he spoke. “You know, I think I was probably wrong about what kind of woman my type really is.” You’re my type. Jesus, he was too chicken to say it.
“You better get going,” she told him. “Amber’s waiting.”
“Come with me,” he blurted.
She laughed. “Yeah, she’d like that.”
“Seriously.” He didn’t want his evening with Brittany to end like this. And maybe his lack of interest would finally get through to Amber if she saw him again with Britt. “Every time I talk to Amber I mention my fiancée. I think maybe she needs a visual reminder.”
“Or maybe she’s been talking to her sister who knows you don’t really have a fiancée.”
That stopped him short. God, he hadn’t thought that far ahead, but sure, if Amber talked to Lana, she might mention Wes’s “fiancée.” Would Lana even care? Maybe not. Probably not. She hadn’t mentioned it last night when Wes called her. Jesus, she probably didn’t care at all.
For some weird reason, that didn’t make him feel desperate or frustrated or hurt—only strangely wistful.
It was weird. For so long, he’d been carrying this hope that when Lana found out about Wizard’s cheating ways she’d leave him and come running into Wes’s open arms. He’d had this fantasy that Lana secretly loved him, too, but that she was staying away from him because she was a good, honest woman, honoring her wedding vows.
But she’d known about Wizard for some time now. Wes’s fantasy was nothing but a silly, childish fairy tale. And they lived happily ever after.
Yeah, sure.
“Look, just come with me,” he told Brittany now. “Help me out here. Please?”
“I love a man who cooks dinner, cleans up afterwards and says please.” She stood up. “Give me two minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”
CHAPTER NINE
SSURE ENOUGH, AMBER answered her door wearing clothes that left very little to the imagination. Gauzy white pants that were nearly transparent over red thong panties. A halter top made of red silk that was so sheer, she might as well have come to the door topless.
“Thank Go
d you’re here,” she said. And then she saw Brittany. “Oh.”
“Hi,” Britt said.
“Amber, you met Brittany at your party.” Wes draped a casual arm around Britt’s shoulders.
“Sure,” Amber said. “The nurse. Right. Come on in. I certainly didn’t mean to drag you all the way out here, Brittany.”
But she did mean to drag Wes. And his giant… flashlight.
“It’s no trouble,” Britt lied. “We were just about to go for a walk on the beach, you know, before going to bed.” She smiled at Wes as she said that—let Amber think whatever she wanted to think. He grinned back at her, his hand warm at her waist now as they went into Amber’s house. “This isn’t that much of a detour.”
“Well, thanks so much for coming,” Amber lied, too.
“You really should think about full-time security,” Brittany told her. “I’m sure there are even female bodyguards—if you don’t want a bunch of guys with no necks hanging around, watching your every move.”
Wes was holding her hand now and playing with her fingers, as if he couldn’t bear not to touch her—as if they really were going to go home and go to bed together. As if he couldn’t wait.
Brittany had to work hard to keep her pulse from racing. This wasn’t real.
“Where were you when you first heard the noise?” he asked Amber.
“In my TV room,” she said as she led the way to the back of the house, her perfect buttocks glowing like a beacon beneath those sheer pants. Brittany was tempted to take Wes’s flashlight and shine it on her buns. It was hard to look anywhere else, but Wes was watching Britt and smiling. Probably at the expression on her face.
“Actually, I offered Wes a job as head of my security,” Amber turned slightly to say to Britt. “Maybe you can help talk him into it. I’m sure you’d prefer it if he were in L.A. full-time, instead of down in San Diego.”
He’d put his arm around Brittany again, and his fingers slipped up beneath the edge of her T-shirt, warm and slightly rough against her bare skin.
“Oh, I’d never ask him to leave the SEALs,” Britt said. Her voice sounded breathless. “Absolutely not.”
Wes was doing a really good job of looking at her as if he couldn’t think of much else besides getting her home and into bed. He had such heat in his eyes. And his smile had vanished as he continued to stroke the curve of her waist.
Maybe he’d picked up on the hints Britt had dropped at dinner—especially that comment about him having to carry her to bed. She couldn’t believe it when that came out of her mouth.
But after a day at the hospital, filled with such suffering and pain, she didn’t want to spend the night alone. She wanted comfort. She wanted to lose herself in full-body contact with this man whom she’d come to like so much in such a short amount of time.
And he either wanted that, too, or he was a better actor than Amber Tierney could ever hope to be.
“You can’t be a SEAL forever,” Amber said. “My sister’s married to a SEAL, and she’s told me it’s just a matter of time before he gets too old to go running around in the jungle or whatever it is that he does, saving the world. She said it’s a young man’s game.”
“She’s right,” Wes said. “Eventually, I’ll get too old to keep up with the new guys, but I’m not there yet.”
Brittany gently extracted herself from his grasp. “When Wes retires from the Navy, he’s coming back to L.A. He’s quite a talented actor.”
“What?” Wes said with a laugh.
“You are,” Britt told him.
He was looking at her as if she were completely crazy.
“Okay, here’s where I was sitting,” Amber interrupted them. “Right there on the sofa. And the noise seemed to come from that direction.” She pointed toward the patio. “It sounded like, I don’t know, like maybe someone was throwing something against the side of the house.”
“Or climbing up the outside? Did you get the windows on the third floor hooked into your alarm system yet?” Wes asked.
“No,” Amber answered. “That’ll happen next Thursday. Do you really think—”
“No,” Wes said. “I don’t. But to be absolutely safe, you should pack a bag and stay in a hotel tonight. And tomorrow get your manager working on hiring a security team. You know, it’s actually pretty amazing that you’ve gotten by for this long without one.”
Amber didn’t look happy. “Are you sure I can’t talk you into staying here tonight?” She looked at Brittany. “Both of you. I have plenty of room.”
“There’s no way one person could keep you safe in a house this size,” Wes said. “I mean, sure, I could do it if we all camped out in one room, but… Britt’s son is away for the weekend, and I’ve got to be honest—we had other plans for tonight.”
Amber nodded, definitely subdued. “All right. I’ll go get a bag. Make yourself comfortable. There’s wine in the kitchen fridge. I’ll only be about ten minutes.”
“Thanks, but we’ll walk you up,” Wes told her. “We’ll wait just outside your room. This is a big house, and I don’t want to scare you unnecessarily, but until you get the third-floor windows wired, you’re really not safe here. I’m sorry I didn’t make that more clear to you the other day.”
Amber really had heard a noise outside. She really was scared. Because if she wasn’t, now was the time when she’d reassure them that she’d be fine and send them on their way. But she turned slightly pale, and her eyes got even bigger.
No, this wasn’t just a ploy to get Wes over here. At least not completely.
They followed her upstairs and, after Wes checked out Amber’s flowery bedroom to make sure that no one was hiding inside, they waited for her in the hall.
“I think she’s finally catching on,” Wes said to Britt in a low voice. “Thanks for coming out here with me.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. “Do you really think she’s in danger?”
“She’s famous. And there are a lot of crazy people out there. Some of them—not all of them, but some—know how to climb and could get into a third-floor window,” he said. “Do I think she’s in danger tonight? No. But we could sit around and talk about it for a couple of hours. And then she could call again at 0300, after she hears another noise. At which point, I’ll come back here and help her get checked into a hotel room. I figured I’d skip the drama and go directly to the thrilling conclusion—one in which it’s possible for me to get a good night’s sleep. Or at least to have an uninterrupted evening.”
Wes was looking at her again with that molten lava look in his eyes. Except this time Amber wasn’t around to see it.
He had a wonderful smile, but even when he wasn’t grinning his mouth was still beautiful, with lips that were almost delicate and quite gracefully shaped.
Oh, God, Brittany was staring at his mouth, as if she wanted him to kiss her. She looked up into his eyes instead.
Oh, God, she did want him to kiss her.
He smiled very slightly. “You want to help me make sure she never hits on me again?” he murmured.
Now he was the one who was gazing at her mouth.
“Okay,” Britt told him, hypnotized. “How?”
“Kiss me,” he said. “And then when she’s packed and ready, she’ll come out of her room and find us in a liplock. That should take care of any last lingering doubts.”
“She said she’d be at least ten minutes,” Brittany said. It was a stupid thing to say, considering how badly she wanted him to kiss her.
Wes smiled. “I can endure it if you can.”
She laughed, and he did it.
He kissed her.
Lightly at first. Gently. Sweetly. His lips were so soft and warm as he brushed them across hers.
Britt felt herself sway toward him, and then, God, he was holding her in his arms.
“Oh, man,” he breathed, and kissed her again, more completely this time, covering her mouth with his.
And oh. My. God.
She melted.
<
br /> It was a kiss for the world record books—Most Romantic Kiss of All Time. Or at least it would be if it had been real.
Who would’ve thought that rough and tough U.S. Navy SEAL Chief Wes Skelly—a man with a reputation for salty language and a total lack of tact, a man who was known for speaking before thinking, for knee-jerk reactions, for bursts of temper and lack of restraint—would be able to kiss so beautifully, so worshipfully, so utterly sensitively, and completely tenderly?
God, if he could kiss like this, making love to him would be…it would be too perfect. Her head would explode. Bang. Complete overload of all of her systems. She would simply cease to exist.
Oh, but she wanted to risk it. She wanted to try it and see.
Except, this kiss was just a show for Amber Tierney. And Amber wasn’t likely to show up in Brittany’s apartment. Although maybe Britt could use that as an excuse. Hey, Wes, just in case Amber decides to come over, maybe you should sleep in my bed tonight. And just in case she happens to come into the room, we should probably make love, you know, all night long. You know, just in case, and just to make it clear that you’re not interested in her.
Uh, yeah.
“Hi, this is Amber.” Wes lifted his head to glance toward the bedroom, but Amber was only talking on the telephone, and he quickly returned his attention to Brittany.
“You’re completely killing me,” he whispered before he lowered his head and kissed her again.
Was she really? God, she hoped so, because he was killing her, too.
Kissing Wes for these past few minutes had been better than her entire years-long sex life with her ex-husband.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. She brushed her hips against him, and…oh, boy.
He stopped kissing her, pulling back to look at her, and at first she thought she’d gone too far. Yes, he was obviously aroused, but maybe he didn’t want her to know that, or to acknowledge it or…
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