Tempted by a SEAL

by Cat Johnson

  “You don’t even have time for coffee?” She realized she didn’t know if he had coffee, but amazingly enough he did have a coffee maker. She’d seen it on the counter.

  He shook his head as he stood. “No time.”

  That answer saddened her. “Okay. I guess I’ll, uh . . . ”

  What? Talk to him later? See him around their parents’ house at Christmas? She didn’t know the answer to that. Maybe he’d supply it.

  Lydia left the sentence open ended but Mack didn’t fill in the blank. Instead he leaned in and while cupping her face with warm large palms, kissed her long and deep.

  When he broke the kiss he stood and with a much too brief glance at her, breathless in the bed, said, “Bye.”

  After a small lift of his lips into a smile, he turned and strode out the door.

  She heard the apartment door slam seconds after that.

  He was gone. And she was there, alone, in his apartment naked beneath his comforter.

  Mack had to be the oddest man she’d ever met. This whole situation seemed extremely strange for a weekend fling—if indeed that’s what this was. Not that she had much to compare to as far as men or flings went.

  Time to get dressed and head back to school, less for her classes and more for Marissa’s opinion. On Mack. On his leaving. On pretty much everything that had happened the past two days.

  CHAPTER 13

  The sun was up but not by much as Mack pulled his bike into the parking spot. He saw Rocky parking his truck a few spots away.

  After pulling off his helmet, Mack lifted his chin in Rocky’s direction as the man ambled close. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Rocky returned the greeting as they turned as one toward the building. “So, what do you think we’re getting called in about? The hostage situation in Mali?”

  Mack blew out a breath. “Who the hell knows? It could be anything.”

  Turkey shooting a Russian bomber out of the sky. Russia bombing Syria. Terrorist attacks on civilian targets in Paris, Mali, Egypt, to name a few, and that was all just in the past couple of weeks.

  ISIS. Al-Assad. Peshmerga. France. Russia. Turkey. NATO. Mack was barely able to keep up with all the players and what was happening publicly in the world lately.

  Add in everything happening around the globe behind the scenes, the stuff the press didn’t know about so they couldn’t splash it all over the media, and it added up to a clusterfuck worthy of Hollywood, only it was real.

  There was no way Mack could be sure why his team had been called into a meeting hours earlier than he’d planned on being back on base any more than he knew where they’d be sent or why.

  It would be pointless to even venture a guess. Whatever it was had to be important to yank the whole team in on a one-hour recall, just when he’d been hoping to spend the morning with Lydia.

  Rocky drew in a deep breath and let it out. “I guess we’ll know soon enough.”

  “Guess we will.” Mack made a rote response but his mind was elsewhere.

  His thoughts were on the expression on Lydia’s face as he told her he had to leave early. At the odd way she looked at him when he said she should lock up when she left. On how he’d felt when he’d kissed her before they’d said goodbye.

  He never invited women to spend the night, and now he was leaving this one alone in his apartment. What the hell was that about?

  In his defense, she was family now, technically. It wasn’t odd to leave family alone at his place.

  There was nothing normal about this situation. He couldn’t expect to feel the same as he usually did with women. That need to escape. Detach. Not let things get too serious.

  Their parents were married. Couldn’t get much more serious than that, short of marrying her himself.

  Banishing that insane, and thankfully fleeting thought from his mind, he grabbed the door Rocky held open for him and entered the building.

  Like a switch had been flipped, his mind turned to work, his feet taking him without need for thought in the direction of the meeting room.

  He’d changed teams but the nature of the job was still the same. Find the bad guys. Take them out. Repeat.

  Simple.

  Mack liked simple. As he pulled out a chair and took a seat to wait for the big revelation, he hoped he’d get it today with whatever command had in store for them.

  Within moments, the unit was assembled.

  Grant Milton, once again acting as the team’s commander after a hiatus in training, walked in and directly to the projector.

  The photo of a man flashed onto the wall screen.

  “Belgian-born French national Salah Abdeslam. Though probably not the mastermind behind the Paris attacks he was most definitely involved. His fingerprints were found in the vehicle that we believe dropped off two of the bombers. Another car he rented was discovered with three AK-47s in the trunk. Photos have surfaced of him purchasing ten detonators, in addition to batteries, at a store days before the Paris attacks. Our newest intel places him currently in Syria . . .”

  With that one sentence spoken by his commander, Mack was ready to venture an answer to Rocky’s question.

  If he wasn’t completely off base, his next stop would be Syria. Or more accurately, a location along the Syrian border. Possibly Turkey or Iraq. Maybe Jordan. Someplace close so they could get in and out quickly.

  But a DEVGRU team being sent in to track down a suspect who was on the run? That seemed odd.

  Yes, they’d gone in to get Bin Laden, but that was after the CIA spent a very long time gathering proof to confirm exactly where he was holed up.

  Unless there was intel the commander hadn’t revealed yet, Mack wasn’t sure why they were being sent in at this time.

  “. . . which will provide the perfect cover for us to be in the region.”

  After that addition, the command’s intent couldn’t be more clear. The suspect being in Syria was an excuse.

  No doubt catching the bastard was important, for international relations and morale, but that was only one part of their mission. They’d really be there to monitor what their allies were doing, not only against ISIS, but also against each other.

  The commander went over some more details, concluding with the real information Mack had been waiting for. They’d be going wheels up in two hours, giving him just enough time to get his kit together, grab some food, and—thanks to his recent guilt over not making family a priority—call his dad.

  That last item on his short to-do list gave Mack pause. He didn’t usually call home before a mission. Too many questions he wasn’t allowed to answer. Besides the fact that his father’s line wasn’t secure.

  He didn’t really think the phones were being monitored, but that they could be was treading a dangerous line for operational security. The bad guys didn’t need to know where his unit was going or why, just that there were troops on the move.

  There was another reason he was most likely—unless he talked himself out of it—going to call his dad. Mack didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he couldn’t deny it, he cared about what Lydia thought of him.

  He didn’t want her to think he’d spent two nights with her, only to disappear without a word.

  Worrying about hurting her feelings. Concern about her opinion of him. That was all shit he didn’t need on his mind when his team was headed to frigging Syria where there were multiple factions working against them.

  This was why he didn’t date. This was why he shouldn’t have invited her into his place.

  This was why he should do what a lot of the other guys did and stick to the pros for any physical needs or just have one-night stands with nameless women. Meanwhile, thanks to his father’s marriage, Lydia was anything but nameless.

  Next to him, Rocky laughed. “Something wrong, Mack?”

  “Why do you ask that?”

  “Because that was one of the more creative curses I’ve heard come out of you.”

  “Was it?” Mack had left the meeting room
deep in thought. Apparently he’d been mumbling to himself loud enough for Rocky to notice.

  “Oh, yeah. It was almost worthy of the Cassidy brothers and you know they’re southern so they’ve got a lock on creative cussing as Brody puts it.”

  Mack had to laugh at that. “I just got some shit happening at home.”

  “At home, huh. There a new lady in your life I don’t know about?”

  That elicited a snort as Mack tried to determine the answer to Rocky’s question.

  “No . . . Maybe.” He ran his hand over his face. “Christ. It’s too complicated to get into now.”

  Rocky grinned. “Complicated. Sounds interesting. I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

  He rolled his eyes. Problems or not, talking about his personal life with his teammates was the last thing Mack intended to do. “I gotta make a quick call.”

  “All righty. Say hi to her for me.”

  Mack shook his head and walked away without comment, not willing to give Rocky the satisfaction of an answer.

  He pulled his cell out of his pocket as he turned down the hallway toward the equipment room. After hitting send he pressed the phone to his ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Dad. Hey, it’s me.”

  “James. Hello.” The surprise in his father’s tone was obvious.

  Okay, maybe that was justified. His calls home lately had been few and far between. He was a good SEAL but he was a shit son, he supposed. He wasn’t sure it was possible to be good at both.

  “What’s up?” his father asked.

  “Not much. Thanks for brunch yesterday. It was, uh, fun.”

  “Good. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Laurie and I will have to wrangle you and Liddy together and do it again real soon.”

  Liddy. Who was likely still in his bed where he’d done things to her no mother or father would be happy knowing about.

  Mack tried to not choke on that knowledge as he pretended everything was normal. That Lydia was just a new acquaintance he’d met at brunch. A girl who also happened to be his stepsister. “Uh, yeah. That’d be good. But let me call you before you make any plans. Okay?”

  “Why?” There had been a brief hesitation before his father’s guarded question.

  “It looks like I might have to go out of town again.”

  “When?”

  “Soon.” Ninety or so minutes to wheels up qualified as soon. “I’m not sure for how long. You know they never give us firm dates.”

  “Yeah, I know.” His father sighed. “I really wish you’d let me tell at least Laurie. She wouldn’t tell a soul. Son, I swear to you.”

  “I’ve been rethinking that and you’re right. Laurie and Lydia should know.”

  “Really? Oh, thank God. I’ve hated keeping this secret.”

  “I know, Dad, but listen. I’d like to be the one to tell them. I’ll do it as soon as I’m home. I promise. But I’d really like it to come from me.”

  His father laughed. “Don’t trust me?”

  “I trust you. Just let me do it. Hold on a little longer. Please.”

  “Okay.”

  “Good. Thanks. So I gotta get going but I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

  Again, there was an ominous pause. “All right. Stay safe.”

  “I’ll do my best. Uh, give my best to Laurie and Lydia for me. K?”

  “I will.”

  “Thanks.” Mack disconnected the call and sighed.

  He didn’t like withholding half the details of his life from everyone except his teammates any more than his father did.

  Unfortunately that was the reality of this life. He could only hope Lydia understood when he finally did tell her.

  CHAPTER 14

  Lydia pushed through the doorway of her apartment barely juggling her overnight bag, her purse and the extra large cup of coffee she’d picked up on the drive.

  She had to pee like a racehorse, hence the reason she’d stopped drinking the coffee half way through the drive and had to carry it now.

  Dumping the bag on the floor, she glanced up to see Marissa in the kitchen.

  “You’re finally home. I was worried you wouldn’t make it back in time for your class.”

  “Not too worried. Why didn’t you answer your phone when I called?” Lydia put her purse and the coffee on the counter.

  “I was in the shower.”

  “For over an hour?” She asked the question as she made a beeline toward the bathroom.

  “Well, no. Not the whole time.”

  Lydia shook her head as she cleared through the bathroom door and flipped up the lid. For once, she had a tale to tell about a man and she wasn’t about to let Marissa’s story get in the way of it.

  She leaned forward from her perch on the toilet. “Don’t go anywhere. I want to talk to you.”

  “If you think I’d leave before I hear all about this new guy of yours, you’re nuts. Want me to warm up your coffee in the microwave?”

  Lydia wasn’t so certain he was her guy but she was very sure about the coffee. “Yes, please.”

  She was exhausted. Being up half the night will do that to a girl, but it was worth it. She could take a nap later.

  Now, she needed to shower and get dressed for class, but more importantly, she needed to talk to Marissa and drink that coffee.

  If there was a breakfast of some sort in her future, even better.

  “We have anything to eat?” Lydia called as she washed her hands in the bathroom sink.

  “Leftover pizza. Want me to reheat it?”

  “Sure. Thanks.” It was better than nothing.

  By the time Lydia made it back to the kitchen, her coffee was steaming in her favorite mug, and the toaster oven was aglow as it warmed a slice of pizza.

  She lifted the mug and took a deep whiff of the brew. “You’re the best roommate ever.”

  “Remember that when you see that I might have mistakenly put your sweater I borrowed in the dryer.” Marissa cringed.

  “That’s all right. It looked better on you.” And it had probably shrunk so small it would no doubt only fit Marissa now and not Lydia anymore anyway.

  After taking a bracing swallow of caffeine, Lydia drew in a breath and gathered her thoughts in preparation to begin her story. The one about a man she’d just met, whom she’d spent two nights with, who also happened to be technically related to her now. A man who didn’t own much, but didn’t seem to lack for anything either. A seemingly private man who kept things close to the vest, but also had no problem leaving her completely alone in his apartment.

  James MacIntyre was certainly a puzzle, but hopefully if Lydia and Marissa put their heads together, it was one they could solve.

  Marissa pulled the pizza out of the toaster oven with two fingertips and dropped it onto a paper towel. She slid it toward Lydia and then reached for a bottle of water. “Okay. Eat and then spill.”

  Luckily for them both, Lydia was confident she could multitask and do both—eat and talk.

  After chewing and swallowing a bite of pizza she washed it down with a slurp of coffee and launched into the long sordid tale of Mack.

  She tried to run quickly through their meeting at the bar, and then the shock of the parental brunch but kept having to stop for Marissa’s comments and questions. Lydia couldn’t blame her roommate for interrupting. It was a pretty insane story.

  She skipped over the more intimate details—what had happened in the kitchen being one of them—but didn’t leave out any details about the man himself. He was such a conundrum she needed all the help reading him she could get.

  Lydia finally wrapped up the story with how he’d kissed her and left with not much more than a goodbye.

  Wide-eyed, Marissa asked, “That’s it? Did you give him your number?”

  “No.”

  “Did you get his?”

  “No.” Every question added another regret to Lydia’s list.

  “Oh my God. We talked about this on the phone after the first night wi
th him. That’s like Hooking Up 101. You have to exchange numbers.” Marissa sighed. “I guess it’s not that bad though. I mean you are related to him.”

  “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

  She laughed. “It is pretty crazy. But it probably explains a lot. Why he trusted you in his place alone. Why he didn’t ask for your number. He figures he can get to you anytime through your parents.”

  “I guess.” Lydia wasn’t sure she was on board with Marissa’s assessment.

  Not getting her number or giving her his could also be Mack’s way of keeping his distance.

  Maybe he figured he’d try to avoid any contact except when they had to run into each other at their parents’ house. Then he’d just grin and bear it.

  But he had invited her back to his place last night and he didn’t have to do that.

  Men were exhausting. Her limited experience had saved her from that knowledge until today but she was getting a full dose of it now.

  “So, military, huh? Did he leave this morning in a uniform?”

  Lydia frowned. “No. He didn’t. What does that mean? Was he lying?”

  “No. Not necessarily. Maybe he keeps his uniform in like a locker or something.” Marissa’s eyes opened wide and she sucked in a breath. “Oh, my God. What if he doesn’t wear a uniform because he’s undercover. You know, like covert operations or something.”

  Lydia rolled her eyes. “His father said he was in the Navy and Mack himself said he was just a sailor. He’s not some sort of super secret special operations kind of guy.”

  “Well, of course he would lie. He can’t go around telling people. Not even his dad. Remember when we binge-watched all five seasons of Covert Affairs and the star couldn’t even tell her sister what she really did?”

  “That series was about the CIA, not the Navy.”

  Her eyes wide as saucers, Marissa sucked in a breath. “What if he’s a Navy SEAL?”

  Lydia let out a snort. “As much as I’d love to tell everyone I scooped a SEAL at a bar and spent two nights in bed with him, I really don’t think he is.”

  Though he certainly was fit enough to be a SEAL. All those hard, lean muscles. And he’d proven he was pretty fit in the cardiovascular area a couple of times during the weekend, as well.