Sexy SEAL Box Set: A SEAL's SeductionA SEAL's SurrenderA SEAL's SalvationA SEAL's Kiss

by Tawny Weber

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he snapped.

  “I’d hoped that in moving back we could heal our relationship. If not come to love and enjoy one another, at least reach a respectful camaraderie,” she informed them in the same smooth, distant cadence she’d used delivering her dissertation at the age of twenty-two. “Unfortunately, in the handful of hours we’ve spent in each other’s company I’ve come to realize that would be impossible.”

  “You’re being dramatic,” Margaret said with a sigh, topping her orange juice off with more champagne.

  “No, Mother, I’m being practical.” Alexia bent down to pick up her purse, then faced her father. “You’ve made it clear that I’ll never be good enough to meet your standards.”

  “You mean you won’t try to meet them.”

  “Since that would require that I date men you choose, regardless of my feelings about them, and that I change my career to suit your preferences, then no. I won’t.”

  “If you walk out that door, you’re finished with this family.” The admiral’s voice was as emotionless as if he’d just recited the weather forecast. Of course, he probably figured the weather was more cooperative than his eldest child.

  For the first time since she’d walked into her parents’ house that morning, Alexia smiled. “That’s the last thing you said to me when I graduated college and moved to New York.”

  She didn’t wait for a response. There was no point.

  * * *

  THREE HOURS, FOUR IBUPROFEN and a cold compress later, Alexia lay on her couch practicing meditative breathing. The now-lukewarm cloth across her eyes dimmed the light while the soothing sounds of her relaxation tape played through her earbuds.

  Suddenly, someone pressed a hand against her arm.

  She screamed. Heart racing, she jackknifed. The damp terry cloth went flying one way, her iPod the other.

  “Calm down,” Michael said, both hands raised as if to prove he was unarmed. “It’s just me.”

  “What’re you doing here?” She eyed the cloth now hanging off the rosewood table, but didn’t have the energy to move it. Instead, she dropped back to her pillow and tossed her forearm over her eyes.

  “I heard you had brunch with the parents. So I brought ice cream.”

  Alexia shifted her arm just enough to peer out. Michael shook the white bag as proof.

  “Your favorite. Double-chocolate caramel with almonds.” He waited until she was upright before handing it to her. “The spoon’s in the bag.”

  Chocolate might not fix everything, but it sure made suffering through it a lot easier, Alexia decided as she opened her treat.

  “I can’t believe I thought it would be different. How stupid is that?” She dug into the carton, pressing hard to fill her spoon.

  “You aren’t stupid. Most people have decent relationships with their parents. You probably just forgot that yours aren’t human.”

  Alexia’s lips twitched. Then she sighed, staring at the spoonful of chocolate for a few seconds before gulping it down. It was delicious, but didn’t soothe the way it should.

  “Besides, it’s not the admiral and his Mrs. that has you all tweaked out.”

  “Well, aren’t you the king of perception,” she muttered.

  “Queen, actually.” Michael grinned. “And to prove it, I’ll continue my brilliant assessment.”

  Alexia curled her feet under her and gestured with the spoon for him to have a go at it.

  “You’re upset about the hottie from the beach, right?”

  Alexia gave a jerk of her shoulder, pouting into the carton instead of meeting her brother’s gaze.

  “You had fun with him?”

  “Do hours and hours of mind-blowing sex count as fun?”

  “They do in my book.”

  “Then sure. We had fun. But that’s all it was. Fun.”

  “And what’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing.” Getting up because the chocolate was starting to hurt her stomach, not because she wanted to avoid any aspect of this fabulous conversation, Alexia headed into the kitchen. “Water?”

  “Sure. While you get it, you can tell me what you were hoping for from Blake.”

  Honesty.

  Openness.

  Forty or so more orgasms.

  A chance to build a relationship.

  “Nothing,” she said, pulling two bottles from the fridge and letting the cool air chill the heat on her cheeks. She’d never been a good liar.

  “Well, then you got exactly what you wanted,” Michael decided when she handed him his water. “Too bad he didn’t get what he wanted.”

  Sure he had. On the beach. In his truck. On her bed. In her shower. Hell, right there on her dining-room table. He wasn’t a shy, retiring sort of guy. If he’d wanted anything more than that, he’d have said so.

  A bitter weight settled in her stomach.

  “How would you know what he wanted?”

  “After you left last night he found me.”

  Alexia’s feet dropped to the floor. Wide-eyed, she peered at her brother, trying to see what he wasn’t saying.

  “And?”

  “And you’re awfully interested for a woman who wants nothing from him.”

  “Why’d he find you?” she pressed, ignoring the dig.

  “To ask what it’d take to get you to talk to him again.” Michael crossed one slender ankle over his khaki-clad knee and sipped his water, then arched one elegant brow. “So? What’ll it take?”

  “For him to change careers. To get amnesia and forget he served with Father. To learn the importance of open, honest communication.”

  “He’s not going to change careers. He’s a SEAL, he’s totally dedicated. Would you change careers for a relationship? I think not,” Michael said reasonably. She peered at him, wondering if he’d been hiding in the kitchen during brunch.

  “Then we have no chance of being together,” Alexia stated, getting to her feet to pace. “Because me dating a solider, a SEAL, at that, well, it’d be like you dating a woman.”

  “Eww.” Michael grimaced. “No need to be gross.”

  “But you get what I mean, right?” She stopped in front of her brother and dropped down to sit on the coffee table. “It’s not like it’s a bad thing for someone else. I’m not dissing the military itself, or the idea of someone else dating soldiers.”

  “It’s just not your thing.”

  “Exactly,” she said, grateful that he understood.

  “Except Blake? He is your thing,” Michael pointed out gently. “You had fun with him. You connected. Great sex? That’s not just physical. Once or twice, sure. But days on end? That’s a connection, Alexia. Sometimes a once-in-a-lifetime kind of connection. Are you willing to let your prejudices stand in the way of that?”

  She sighed. Dropping her gaze to her hands, she watched her fingers twist together. Remembered how they’d looked against Blake’s tanned skin, smoothing, touching. Caressing.

  It’d been incredible.

  Could she risk it? He was the kind of guy who’d demand everything. She’d already experienced that firsthand when it came to sex. Physically, there was no holding back with Blake. He gave one hundred percent and demanded just as much in return.

  But she needed more than just physical.

  Only a week ago, she’d wanted sex, had thought it was the most important aspect of a relationship. She’d wanted something that’d make her feel like a woman, sexual and strong and satisfied. And she’d got it.

  But the bottom line was that he was a soldier. Not just military, in service to his country. But an elite fighting machine, specifically trained and totally focused on dangerous missions. Someone who’d always put country, squad and his career before anyone else in his life.

  Men like that were exceptional. Special. And even though she hadn’t realized it, that was part of what made Blake so incredible. So maybe she could live with that.

  But another part of his job was keeping secrets. She’d
never know what he did, where he went. She’d always come second, not just to the mission, but to the classified information that made up eighty percent of his life. By nature, military men kept part of themselves closed off. Private.

  That, she couldn’t accept.

  “Give it a chance, Alexia,” Michael said, almost pleading. “At least talk to him.”

  “Is he paying you?” she asked suspiciously, giving her brother a narrow look.

  “I just...” He glanced at his hands, then shrugged and gave her a sad smile. “I just want to see you happy. If you’re happy, you’ll stick around.”

  Alexia reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’ll stick around anyway, silly.”

  “No.” Michael shook his head. “After all this, you’re going to convince yourself that dating Dr. Darling is the right thing to do. Within a year you’ll realize how much you hate it, working together will be a nightmare, and you’ll quit and move away to escape the misery of it all.”

  She started to laugh, then realized he was right. That’s exactly what she’d do. Wrinkling her nose, Alexia asked, “When’d you get so smart?”

  “I’ve always been smart. You just weren’t listening.”

  “I missed you,” Alexia said quietly, reaching out to take his hand. “I don’t want to be that far away again. So how about this. You don’t push me on dating Blake, and I’ll promise not to date Edward. That way you won’t drive me crazy, making me wish for what I can’t have, and I won’t ruin my career and run away.”

  “If that’s the best I can get, I’ll take it,” her brother said resignedly. “But I still think you should give the Sexy SEAL a chance.”

  She’d already fallen half in love with him just based on their physical connection. If she gave him a chance—gave them a chance—the rest of the fall would be as easy as breathing.

  And she couldn’t—wouldn’t—let herself fall in love with a man she couldn’t communicate with. One who kept part of himself under lock and key.

  “I can’t,” she decided quietly, wishing it didn’t hurt so much. They’d known each other less than a week. She shouldn’t feel as if someone was tearing part of her heart in two. “Because my prejudices would ruin the relationship in the end anyway.”

  8

  Eight Months Later

  “DUDE, YOU’VE TURNED into a total downer.”

  Cade’s words echoed through the empty barracks in Quatar. The rest of the squad was off celebrating their return from Syria. Blake had turned down their invite to join in, wanting to sleep and decompress first.

  “Sorry I’m not living up to your entertainment standards,” Blake muttered, not bothering to open his eyes.

  “You’re mooning. Get over her already.”

  “I’m sleeping. As in resting up after a three-week recon.”

  Cade’s sigh was a work of art. Loud, drawn out and filled with enough exasperation to fuel an obnoxious teenager for a week.

  Blake almost smiled. But he still didn’t open his eyes. He wanted to sleep. Sleep and work were great. In between the two? Not so great.

  Not that he was mooning. That’d be stupid. And Blake didn’t waste his time with stupid.

  “You need to get over her.”

  “Over who?”

  The silence was glorious.

  If only it’d last.

  “It’s been months. You’re so hung up that you barely do anything anymore. Missions, the gym, the dojo, the range. That’s your life. You’re a cliché, man.”

  Sad, but true.

  Michael had been right. After slamming the door in his face, Alexia hadn’t talked to him again. Blake had called. He’d gone by her place. He’d done everything but tattle to her daddy.

  Finally, he’d given up.

  He wasn’t going to waste his time on a woman who couldn’t get past her father issues.

  “I’m not a cliché. I’m not mooning and I haven’t been a monk.” There. He’d defended himself against all of Cade’s accusations. Maybe now he could get some sleep.

  “You’re not putting anything into it, either. Sex with random strangers just to relieve the pressure isn’t your thing.”

  “Don’t you have a lovelorn column to write?” Blake snapped, sick of thinking about Alexia and totally pissed that Cade wouldn’t let it go.

  “‘Dear Lovelorn LC, I’ve fallen for the girl I can’t have and now can’t get over her. How do I heal my broken heart?’”

  It might have been funny if it wasn’t way too close to the truth.

  “Sullivan, you’re a pain in my ass.”

  “Landon!”

  Thank God. An interruption Cade couldn’t ignore.

  “Sir?” Blake sprang to his feet, coming to attention despite the fact that he was off duty, in his boxers and, seriously, trying to sleep.

  “New orders. Report to the captain.”

  * * *

  EYES FOCUSED on the silver eagle gracing the plaque of the United States Navy, Blake stood at attention. The brass behind the desk ignored his presence, multitasking paperwork and a phone call instead.

  Shoulders firm, chin high, senses alert, Blake knew his face didn’t betray any irritation at waiting, even though it’d been ten minutes already. Nor did any of the questions he had on his mind show in his expression.

  He wasn’t wondering why he had been pulled from his assignment and ordered back to the Coronado Naval Base without the rest of his team.

  Nor was he curious about why this meeting was deemed classified.

  Both of those were pretty much Standard Operating Procedure.

  The question burning in his gut was why the hell he was reporting directly to Rear Admiral Lane.

  Plenty of orders had come down from Lane, but they went through the chain of command. Blake had never had a face-to-face with the rear admiral. He hadn’t even seen the guy in person since Admiral Pierce’s retirement party last September.

  Anger fisted tight in his gut, the same as it always did at the memory of that night.

  As he had so many times in the past, he reminded himself that it was stupid to get worked up over a woman he’d barely known. The only reason Alexia was still intriguing was because he hadn’t got to spend enough time with her for the shine to wear off. Great sex, a body that haunted his dreams and a personality that had almost convinced him there was such a thing as relationships outside of bed... Nothing to obsess over.

  He’d slept with plenty of women in the past few months, enough to wipe away the memory of that wild encounter. He wasn’t a sentimental guy, nor was he the kind who fanatically crushed on some long-forgotten—or supposed-to-be-forgotten—chick.

  Nope. No reason to be angry.

  No point in remembering the exact texture of her lips, the scent of her hair in the moonlight or the feel of her soft curves pressed into his chest. It was ridiculous to wish he could see her, just one more time, poised naked above him, waiting to ride them both to the heights and depths of passion. The last thing he needed in his life was the distraction of wondering how she was liking her new job, whether she’d adjusted to life in San Diego or if she still missed New York. If she’d unpacked everything and if she’d got to the beach yet this year.

  With the same discipline he used to push his body to its limits, to train with the elite and to succeed in missions that most would deem impossible, Blake shoved the memory—and all its accompanying emotional tension—out of his mind.

  Better to focus on wondering why the hell he was here.

  More for distraction than because he figured he’d find an answer, he started running through a mental list of all the known conflicts that might require a one-man mission.

  He hadn’t come up with a single idea by the time the rear admiral wound up his phone call.

  “Landon,” Lane acknowledged when he hung up the receiver.

  Already at attention, Blake shifted all of his focus—physical and mental—to his commanding officer.

  “Sir.”

  “You were
recently in Syria.”

  Since it was a statement, not a question, Blake didn’t respond. Still staring at the eagle, he was aware his mind raced. The last mission had been a success. The team had even received a thumbs-up from the commander in chief on a job well done. Where was this going?

  “In the last year, you’ve spent six months deployed in the Middle East, completed seventy-two missions and earned yourself three commendations.”

  That sounded about right. The rear admiral wasn’t looking for confirmation, though.

  “You have a reputation as a strong team player. A man who understands orders but can think on his feet.”

  What SEAL didn’t?

  “You’ve proven that you’re a stickler for the rules of engagement, and will follow them to the letter.”

  It was all Blake could do not to roll his eyes.

  Any guy on the team could be standing here. None of this commentary was unique to Blake’s career. So where was the old guy going with it? He wasn’t evaluating Blake’s service history to fill conversation gaps. It was some kind of test.

  One, Blake figured, that he’d already won—or lost, depending on the perspective—given that he was standing here.

  But what was at stake?

  “While your service record shows an affinity for teamwork and leadership, your C-Sort indicates a leaning toward autonomy and self-reliance. That suggests that you work well alone, possibly even better than you do on a team.”

  His C-Sort? The admiral had dug all the way back to Blake’s initial psych screening for this assignment. What the hell was going on?

  For the first time since he’d walked in, Blake stared at the rear admiral. Frowning, he processed the furrow in the older man’s brow, the cold sheen in his narrowed eyes.

  Whatever was going down, it was big.

  “Am I being removed from my team?”

  “Temporarily reassigned.”

  With a quick jerk of his chin, Blake acknowledged the new assignment and waited for further orders. And, hopefully, clarification.

  The rear admiral looked out the window for a few seconds, as if sorting through which information he wanted to share. Then, his lips compressed almost white, he met Blake’s gaze again. He straightened, hands clasped behind his back, took a deep breath then spoke.