A SEAL's Desire (Uniformly Hot!)

by Tawny Weber

  He called up his vast array of skills, not as a SEAL, but as a man who’d had a lot of women and always left them satisfied with goodbye.

  A friendly but distant smile.

  Body language open but detached.

  And his tone pleasant but just removed enough to indicate disinterest.

  “Realizations and heartbreaks can keep a person busy, I suppose.” He let his lips quirk toward a smile. “And you do look tempting enough for me to want to climb into that bed and hear all about it. But I’ve got to head out, sweetheart. I’ve got a plane to catch.”

  Self-preservation kept him from blinking at the lie, or at the hurt that flashed across her face.

  “You’re leaving? Now? Before we talk?”

  He knew Sammi. All it’d take was keeping the wall between them and she’d give up. So Laramie made sure his apology came off like a shrug.

  “Sorry. But like I told you the other night, we’re pretty much done.”

  “Why?”

  The question was, why wasn’t she giving up? This was too damned hard for him to keep it up for long.

  “Because ending it is the right thing to do. I was temporary,” he reminded her, pretending that didn’t eat at his gut. “For a good time, call. Remember?”

  “That’s not what it was,” she protested quietly, her face melting into a frown and that bottom lip jutting out just enough to nibble on.

  “Sammi Jo, you came after me for one thing. Help finding your fiancé.”

  “In the beginning, yes. Because you were the only one who could help me.” She shifted into a sitting position, the move tightening the sheet against her breast and making Laramie wonder if she was trying to kill him. “But you know I’ve had feelings for you since that first day. You know I want you. What we have, Laramie, it’s amazing. I don’t want to lose that.”

  “So you’re saying, what?” He gave her a narrow look. “You’re getting married next week, but you want to have a little fun each year when I come to town? Or realize what a loser your fiancé was and decide to dump him? I guess Barclay’s a pretty easygoing guy, he won’t mind you working for him after you’ve ditched his son.”

  As if.

  “Actually I ditched his son the night before last,” Sammi said with a toss of her head. Her hair bounced on those bare shoulders, tempting Laramie to say screw the right thing and bury his face there. “And since I quit my job, I don’t think it matters if Mr. Barclay is easygoing about it or not.”

  “You’re not marrying Barclay?” he repeated, needing to hear it again.

  “No.”

  “And you quit your job, so you no longer have any commitments that necessitate you living in Jerrick?”

  She shook her head, a smile starting to play over her lips.

  Everything inside him was dancing and screaming like a happy schoolboy. Except Laramie had never been a happy schoolboy, so he didn’t quite trust it.

  “What are your plans, then? Have you figured out the rest of your life?”

  “What do you want me to do with it?” Her words were halfway between teasing and serious. Throw in the fluttering eyelashes and the sweet smile, and Laramie was a goner.

  Stand strong, he ordered himself. He’d faced Hell Week. He’d fought terrorists. He could hold out against Sammi Jo’s cuteness when their future was in the balance.

  He hoped.

  Calling up all of his training, Laramie took his cowboy hat off and set it on the dresser. He subtly came to attention. Shoulders back, chin high. And gave her a direct stare. “What are you going to do, Sammi Jo?”

  The flirty bravado left her face, leaving her expression pale and unsure. But Laramie couldn’t make this part easy for her.

  He’d give her the world if he could.

  But he had to hear her say she wanted it first.

  “I have a decent amount of money saved up. I can’t live on it for long, but it’ll get me started.” She stopped, taking a deep breath that damn near killed Laramie’s resolve because it tipped that sheet into the danger zone. “I’m moving to California. I’ve talked with Lark, who wants to carry my cards in her gallery. She suggested a few more places for me to try, including a bookstore and a couple of publishing houses.”

  She’d talked to Lark? When? Why hadn’t anyone told him? Without realizing it, Laramie shifted from attention to at ease, relaxing his shoulders and crossing his arms over his chest.

  One hand tucking that sheet between her breasts, Sammi pushed the other through her hair as if she were trying to loosen her thoughts.

  “Those realizations I had today? One of them was that I have a bad habit of giving up. I’m great at planning and working toward a goal, but when push comes to shove, I can’t seem to step up.” She wet her lips, her eyes on the sheet now instead of on him. “I didn’t much like realizing that, but it’s the truth. I did it with the inn, working my butt off chasing after the manager position. But each time I was blown off, I didn’t push, I never let on that I was disappointed. I just tried to jump a little higher.”

  “Sammi—”

  “No, please. Let me get it all out at once.”

  Hating to see her beat up on herself but figuring she must have a reason for it, Laramie gestured that she go ahead.

  “I did the same with my art. I am good. I studied business and marketing in college with the thought in the back of my mind that I’d manage the inn to pay Mr. Barclay back, but that I’d do my art on the side so when I was ready, I could shift to art full-time. But a few setbacks, a few derogatory comments, and I set it aside. I didn’t push, I didn’t question that those comments were true. I simply gave up.”

  “And now?”

  “And now, you.” She met his gaze again, hers direct and strong. “I would have let you push me away. It was the easier route, after all. Oh, I wasn’t going to marry Sterling. Not after his little dramafest. But I’d have let you go, because it seemed like what you wanted. But I’m done with taking the easy route.”

  “Are you, now?” Laramie’s smile was slow, wide and heading toward satisfied.

  “Yes, I am. I’m moving to San Diego. I’m not looking for a handout or for you to support me or anything. I’ve already called in a few favors and have a couple of interviews lined up.” She took a deep breath. “Because even though you took it back, I’m taking you up on that invitation. I’m coming with you.”

  It was all he could do to keep his grin at bay.

  “What exactly is it that you want, Sammi Jo?”

  “I want you.”

  “Why?” And there it was. The last wall he was putting between them. Even as he set it in place, a part of him didn’t expect her to give up.

  “Why?” She gave him an adorable scowl. “Why else. Because I love you.”

  Damn. She really did love him. Other than his mother, he’d never had anyone love him enough to fight for him—not even through his own walls.

  Pleasure surged, joy flared. All of a sudden, Laramie felt incredible.

  His eyes locked on Sammi’s, he unsnapped his shirt and shrugged it off.

  “What are you doing?” Her words were somewhere between confused at his stripping and frustrated that he hadn’t responded to her declaration.

  “What does it look like?” He arched his brow and unbuckled his belt. “I’m giving you what you want.”

  Hurt flashed in her eyes, quickly replaced by appreciation as he shucked his pants. Sammi shifted from the center of the bed to one side, patting the mattress next to her. Tossing the rest of his clothes aside, Laramie joined her.

  Then, because he figured he’d been teased enough, he whipped the sheet out from between them and sent it sailing across the room.

  “It was in the way,” he explained when she gave a gasping laugh.

  Her laughter settled into a warm smile as Sammi lay back against the pillow and held out her arms. She was a dream come true. A dream he hadn’t even realized he was hiding deep in his heart. His gaze moved over her lush curves, the si
ght of those pouting coral nipples flipping him from burgeoning hardness to freaking concrete. His fingers itched to touch. His mouth watered for the taste of her. Even his dick was getting in on the demands, needing to plunge into those dewy, soft russet curls between her thighs and find release.

  But Laramie had to settle a few other things first.

  “You forgot to ask me what I wanted,” he said, his mouth hovering over hers. Close enough to tempt but not quite to touch.

  “What do you want?” She punctuated the question by reaching between their bodies to trail her fingers in a teasing pattern down his belly.

  “You.” He shifted back just a little so she could see how serious he was. “I want you with me in California. I want you with me wherever I’m deployed. I want to get a place off base and build a life together.”

  He took her eyes widening with delight as a good sign, so continued.

  “I want to show you the beach and swim in the oceans together. I want to take you around the world, to experience it all by your side.” This time he was the one to take a deep breath. Then he powered through. “I love you, Sammi Jo.”

  He’d never said that to a woman other than his mom. So he didn’t know how to take Sammi’s gasp. A seed of worry danced down his spine. He wanted to believe the tears trickling down her face were a good thing, but for all his expertise with women, he wasn’t sure.

  “I love you, too,” she said with a watery laugh. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

  Her words sent a shaft of emotion through Laramie so strong, so hard, that he had to close his eyes against the intensity. Needing to mitigate that power, he forced himself to give her an easy look.

  “In the spirit of full disclosure, I could get assigned to some really lousy posts. I don’t expect you to follow along. I want you to find where you’re happiest and settle there.”

  “Christian, I love you.” She pressed her hands against his cheeks, holding his face while she stared into his eyes. The intimacy of her look was even more powerful than her words. “And I will follow you wherever I am allowed. If that means California or Virginia or Kandahar, I’ll be there. You asked me what I want.”

  He nodded because he was too stunned for words.

  “I want to live my life with you. I want to spend as much of it by your side as I can. I want to make a home for you that will always be waiting. A home that’s easy to pack up and move.” She gave him a smile brimming with joy and excitement. “I’ve lived my entire life in one place. I think it’d be fun to see how many places we can spend the rest of it.”

  Everything. He’d stepped back, unwilling to force her to choose. And she’d stepped forward, to give him everything. She was giving him the dreams he’d been afraid of dreaming.

  “I’ll make you happy,” he promised, finally letting himself touch her, his fingers whisper soft as they trailed over her cheek.

  “We’ll make each other happy,” she promised.

  “Forever.” His mouth brushed hers, echoing the promise. “We’ve got forever together.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from TURNING UP THE HEAT by Tanya Michaels.

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  Turning Up the Heat

  by Tanya Michaels

  1

  “I DON’T KNOW which is the bigger betrayal—that you called my boss behind my back, or that you did it first thing in the morning.” Phoebe Mars shoved her hair out of her face to make sure her roommate got the full effect of her glare.

  Completely unapologetic, Gwen sat on the edge of the queen bed and handed her the cordless phone. “I’m allowed to call him. I knew him first, remember?”

  True. After Gwen had introduced her to James Falk last year, he’d joked for months about stealing Phoebe away from her pastry-chef job to design signature desserts for All the Right Notes, a tapas bar that featured live music and wine tastings. He’d been stunned when she’d actually taken him up on it three weeks ago—although, not as stunned as she’d been by what had happened after she’d changed jobs.

  She cleared her throat, trying to sound awake and articulate. “Hello?”

  An exuberant person, James didn’t waste time on small talk. “Why didn’t you tell me it was one of your closest friend’s birthdays?” he demanded. “I insist you take the night off and go to the party!”

  Gwendolyn Yeager, you are a dead woman. Gwen knew perfectly well why Phoebe didn’t want to attend that party. “But Saturday night is our busiest,” she protested, “and—”

  “Honey, I adore you—almost as much as the customers adore your desserts—but we survived for months without you. We’ll survive this one night. After what you’ve been through, you deserve some fun.”

  He meant her broken heart. Perhaps Gwen had neglected to mention that Phoebe’s ex would also be at the party. Seeing him would be the opposite of fun. It had been ten days, but the breakup still felt more like a bad dream than reality.

  She wasn’t ready to face him. “How about I come in for a couple of hours but don’t work my full shift?” The offer was only partially motivated by cowardice. James was a dream to work for and she didn’t want to let him down.

  “Not a chance. Gwen requested prep time to help you get ready. You are going to walk into that party at your most fabulous and show that ex of yours what he’s missing.”

  Ah. So James did know. They ambushed me.

  “Gotta run,” James said, “but Steve and I want to hear all the details tomorrow!” The line went dead.

  Dropping the phone on the pale blue comforter, Phoebe turned to her roommate. “I hate you.”

  “I can live with that.”

  “And I’m getting a dead bolt for my bedroom door,” she proclaimed.

  “We’ll pick one up while we’re out. Now you go shower while I make coffee. We have a big day of shopping ahead of us.”

  “Ugh.” Phoebe flopped backward, pulling her pillow over her face. She loved shopping for recipe ingredients and kitchen supplies, but she doubted Gwen was taking her to look at infrared candy thermometers.

  Gwen poked her in the shoulder. “You remember how determined you were in high school that you were going to tutor me into passing the geometry final? That’s how determined I am now. As far as I’m concerned, how a woman looks when she runs into her ex for the first time is tied in importance with how a bride looks on her wedding day.”

  Weddings—the end result of getting engaged. Behind the pil
low, Phoebe’s eyes watered. In hindsight, it was hilarious how wrong she’d been about her last date with Cam.

  Painfully, agonizingly hilarious.

  In addition to being lovers for two years, she and Chef Cameron Pala had been colleagues, working together at Piri, the newest Atlanta hotspot. Last month, Cam had begun hinting that if they were ever going to move in together or get married, maybe it would be healthier for their relationship if they didn’t also work together. So she’d taken the job at All the Right Notes. After she’d been there a few days, Cam had taken her for a walk in Piedmont Park, where they’d met. When he’d reached for her hand, his expression unusually somber, she’d actually believed...

  Gwen lifted the corner of the pillow. “In retrospect, it was insensitive of me to mention brides, but you don’t really want to get married, Pheeb. You’re only twenty-five. Settle down in your thirties. Our twenties are the perfect time for wild, sexy adventures!”

  The corner of Phoebe’s mouth twitched. Gwen had held a similar philosophy during their teenage years. “We have to live life to the fullest before we turn into boring adults, Pheeb,” she’d said. Her friend had been an audacious blonde bombshell since high school; she’d also been a sanity-saving counterbalance to Phoebe’s bitter mother.

  Grateful for years of Gwen’s friendship, Phoebe sat up, pledging her cooperation. “All right. Make me fabulous.” If anyone could, it was Gwen Yeager, professional makeup artist. She worked on a television show that was shot outside Atlanta and occasionally freelanced for movies that filmed in the area.

  “Yes!” With a triumphant smile, Gwen scrambled off the bed. “I can’t wait to find you the perfect dress. As relieved as I was when you finally stopped wearing baggy cargo pants—”

  “They were considered fashionable when we were in high school.”

  “—you still hide your bod in those long-sleeved, double-breasted jackets.”

  “All chefs wear them!”

  “Not tonight.” Gwen’s blue eyes lit with glee. “Tonight, you are a Gwen Yeager creation. Cameron will fall to his knees and beg you to take him back.”