A SEALs Promise Jennifer Lowery-EPUB

by Lowery, Jennifer

  No wonder Mr. Steele didn’t hesitate to rescue them that day. Honor and duty were part of him. “Thank you for your service to our country. And for saving mine and my dad’s lives.”

  He bowed his head in acceptance.

  “Can I ask what your intentions are, Mr. Steele? Because this spa is my life and I don’t intend to give it up without a fight.”

  ****

  Intrigued by this incredibly gorgeous redhead with sea green eyes that seemed to look right through him, Brogan quirked a brow. Straight to the point. He liked that. And, willing to fight for what she wanted. Qualities he admired. Her no-nonsense attitude appealed to him more than he expected. Crazy she thought he’d want any part of this spa. It may be worth a fortune, but he didn’t need the money and he sure as hell didn’t need another job. He was happy with his life the way it was. Loved being a SEAL. Had no intentions of being anything else. Even if what he’d seen of the spa so far were the complete opposite of his initial beliefs. It wasn’t girly or pink or frilly. More natural, healing. Not that it mattered. He still wanted no part of it.

  “I’m not here to take anything away from you, Miss Sullivan. I prefer to handle my affairs in person so I came to square this away.”

  She leaned back in her chair, wariness in her eyes. “What are your intentions with your fifty-percent? My father left strict instructions that you aren’t to sell or give away your half.”

  “I’m aware of that. Let me be honest with you. I have no room in my career to run a spa. I know nothing about them and have no desire to be part of this in any way. Consider me your silent partner.”

  Those sexy green eyes searched his face. For truth? She’d learn quick enough that he never said anything he didn’t mean.

  “All right,” she said after a few moments. “How can I be sure that won’t change?”

  “I give you my word.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I prefer something in writing.”

  He should have been offended by that. Instead he stifled a smile. She had grit and damn if he wasn’t drawn to it. “You have my word, Miss Sullivan. That’s better than any piece of paper I can give you.”

  Her lips turned down in thought. Brogan couldn’t stop staring at them. Perfect, kissable.

  Dammit.

  Forcing his eyes off her lips he focused on the pencil holder on her desk. It had been nine months since he’d been with a woman, but that didn’t excuse his lust for her. He wasn’t like some of the other guys on the team who sought out female companionship the instant they were INCONUS. He much preferred solitude in the rustic cabin he owned in the Sierra Nevada’s. Detoxing with the quiet and peace of the mountains kept him together. Women were good, too, but he didn’t care for casual hookups. They served a purpose, but he didn’t like loving and leaving a trail of them in his wake. On the other hand, he wasn’t interested in a relationship. Although, seeing three of his teammates happily married and making it work made him wonder if he could have that someday.

  “Well, it seems we’ve reached an agreement,” Myranda said, interrupting his thoughts. “I accept your word.” She rose from her chair. Tall for a woman, probably 5’7 or 8”, slender with the perfect hint of curves beneath her power suit.

  He rose also.

  “Let me make this perfectly clear. This spa is my life and I don’t plan to change that.”

  They shook hands. Hers smooth and slender against his rough callused one. He swore there wasn’t a wrinkle or blemish on her. He’d never seen skin so clear and beautiful. She didn’t overdo it with makeup either. Although she wore it, the natural look suited her.

  “Understood,” he said.

  She glanced at her watch. “It’s nearly dinnertime. Have you booked a hotel for the night?”

  He’d pretty much thrown his stuff in his Jeep and drove straight here. “No.”

  “You can stay in one of the cabins. Maybe take a tour of the grounds to see what you’ve inherited. I can have Hallie set that up for you.”

  As reluctant as she’d seemed to have him here, her offer surprised him. He’d planned on hitting the road once he talked with her. Maybe getting a hotel halfway through. Honestly, he just wanted to be back home. In his cabin. Surrounded by mountains, trees and peace. Getting to know this place wasn’t high on his list. He meant it when he said he’d be a silent partner.

  Before he could decline her offer she picked up the phone and spoke to her assistant. Seconds later she hung up and turned to him.

  “We are fully booked for the next three weeks. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have offered without checking the schedule.”

  “Not a problem. I planned on driving back tonight anyway.”

  “At least let me offer you a meal and a tour. It’s the least I can do for your generosity.”

  Generosity? Not wanting any part of running this place wasn’t generosity. He’d much rather let her do things her way.

  He supposed he could stay for dinner before hitting the road. It was one hell of a drive. “Sounds good.”

  Her face brightened. “Good. I’ll show you the grounds first. Would you prefer to walk or ride?”

  He’d ridden enough on the trip over. “Walk.”

  “Let me change my shoes first.”

  He watched her go to the closet, slip off her heels and exchange them for a pair of colorful running shoes. They clashed with her navy and tan outfit, but somehow worked, too. The heels had accented her long, shapely legs. The sneakers made her seem more relaxed.

  “Ready?” she asked once she’d tied the laces.

  He motioned for her to lead the way and followed her into the reception area. He had to admit, the room held a certain appeal. Muted browns and neutrals with blue accents. Not overdone or overstated.

  Jesus, if his buddies could read his thoughts they’d take him out back and kick his ass a few times. Then once more for good measure. A SEAL in a spa. And noticing the freaking colors. Unnatural.

  Myranda led the way outside. Thick humidity instantly hit him. Hadn’t seemed so heavy when he arrived. He glanced up at the sky. No longer blue and sunny, but dark and threatening. In the distance he saw an even darker line that stretched clear across the sky.

  “Feels like rain,” Myranda commented as they took a path around the spa.

  Brogan kept an eye on the dark skies as they walked through orchards, heavy forest that housed rustic looking cabins and around to a small, private lake. The area was nice. Definitely one with nature out here.

  “That’s my house,” Myranda said, pointing to a modest white house with blue trim and a private drive. It sat on the far side of the lake, bordered by trees.

  He could see the appeal of the place. Myranda had a good thing going here.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  Myranda glanced at the sky. “We better get back. I don’t like the look of that storm front. Mind if we cut this short?”

  Sensing her urgency, Brogan nodded. He didn’t like the look of it either.

  Chapter Three

  They took a back entrance to the spa, passing an indoor pool and multiple rooms. A middle-aged woman came out of one of the rooms, wrapped in a white robe, her face flushed. She took one look at Brogan, frowned, and hurried down the hall.

  Probably thinking the same thing as he was. A SEAL in a spa. Wrong. Just wrong.

  Myranda glanced over her shoulder at him. “You might be bad for business.”

  He couldn’t tell if she was joking or serious. Either way, he agreed. People didn’t tend to get comfortable around him. His buddies claimed he scowled too much. Didn’t put others at ease like a medic should. The way he saw it, if someone needed him there wasn’t any time for niceties. Lives were on the line and he tended to get shit done.

  “Myranda. Thank goodness you’re back.”

  Myranda’s young assistant approached them at a brisk walk, iPad in hand. Pretty, blonde, petite. Not nearly as captivating as her boss, but attractive.

  In a low voice, Hallie said, “
We have a problem.”

  Myranda kept walking, head bowed as she spoke to her assistant. “What problem?”

  “We’re under a severe storm warning for the next two days. The news channels are reporting possible tornadoes.”

  Tornado? That’s something he’d never witnessed before. With the amount of trees and windows around the place a tornado would be a bad thing.

  “Do you have a storm shelter?” he asked as they entered Myranda’s office. He closed the door behind him so no one overheard their conversation. The last thing they needed were panicked guests.

  Myranda rubbed her forehead. “No. Not technically.”

  He quirked a brow. “Technically, what do you have?”

  “Treatment rooms without windows,” Hallie answered quickly. “We can fit most of our guests in the rooms.”

  “Most of them?”

  Hallie nodded.

  Myranda said, “The possibility of a tornado is very slim. We might see some bad weather, but probably not a tornado.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Hallie asked.

  “Warn the staff. Implement our storm protocol. Don’t panic the guests.”

  “On it.” With a nod and a small smile toward him, Hallie left the room.

  “You might want to book your hotel before the storm hits. The creek at the entrance sometimes floods the bridge with high rains.”

  Brogan watched Myranda walk to the windows behind her desk and peer out. To most she’d appear unruffled by the pending storm. But he saw the tiny worry lines on her forehead. He may be a silent partner, but that didn’t mean he’d leave her to deal with a possible train wreck alone.

  “Do you have an office with a couch I sleep on?”

  She turned, a hint of wariness mixed in with her surprise. “What are you offering, Mr. Steele?”

  “Brogan. The drive from California was a long one. Thought maybe I’d catch a few hours of sleep before I hit the road again.”

  “Oh. Well, I don’t have anywhere for you to sleep here.” She paused, studying him. “I have a guest bedroom at my house you could use for the night.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “Let me finish up a few things here first then I’ll get you settled.”

  Again, she studied him. Nearly made him bristle. That never happened. Usually he was the one making people uncomfortable.

  “You seem to be favoring your left shoulder.”

  How the hell did she know that? He knew he hadn’t done anything to raise her suspicions. “Long drive.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “No, that’s not it. Did you injure yourself recently?”

  “No.” He couldn’t give her any details about the training exercise. Refused to admit he’d landed wrong on a jump he’d done hundreds of times.

  Those keen light green eyes continued to analyze him for another few seconds before she walked behind her desk and sat down. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  “I’m going to get my bags and close up my Jeep.”

  She nodded, already typing on her computer.

  Brogan left the office and walked outside. Warm, humid air immediately hit him. Made his clothes stick to him like a second skin. The sky had darkened drastically, casting an odd green tint.

  He continued to the parking lot where he secured his Jeep in case of rain and hefted his bag out of the back. Tossing the duffle over his shoulder, he locked up his vehicle and went back inside. Myranda was just coming out of her office, still wearing sneakers, a leather bag over her shoulder. He wondered if she always took work home with her.

  “We can take the back entrance,” she said, leading the way.

  They took a path through the trees and around the lake until they reached her one-story bungalow. The lawn and landscaping were immaculate. Much like the woman herself. Organized, efficient, and stunningly beautiful. He felt he could stare at her for hours, trying to unwrap her layers.

  Myranda unlocked the door and he followed her inside the foyer. She slipped out of her shoes and he did the same.

  “The guest room is this way.” She led him down a hallway, past a bathroom and to a small bedroom. Very much like her spa it carried a relaxing ambiance. Neutral colors with a hint of blue and green.

  “You get settled. I’ll go start dinner.”

  She disappeared down the hall. Brogan set his bag on the floor next to the door. Didn’t take much for him to settle somewhere. Hell, anytime he had a bed to sleep in he was happy.

  Following the sounds of pots and pans, he found Myranda standing at the counter cutting watermelon into chunks. Next to her wooden cutting board sat a bowl of strawberries and other assorted berries. On her other side sat a salad bowl filled with greens.

  She glanced up when he walked in. “Oh, hey. That was fast. All I have to do is grill some chicken and dinner will be ready.”

  “I can do the grilling. Where’s your grill?”

  “Out back on the patio.” With her knife she pointed over her shoulder toward the dining room where he saw sliding glass doors leading outside. “Thank you. The chicken is already seasoned in the fridge. And there is a clean platter there on the counter for when it’s done.”

  Carrying the platters, one filled with delicious looking chicken breasts, out to the patio Brogan wondered why this felt so comfortable. Maybe he was overtired, but the simple task of grilling and sitting to a peaceful dinner with a beautiful woman sounded like heaven.

  From the patio he heard the waves lapping gently against the grassy shoreline. Thunder rumbled slow and lazy in the distance.

  A stainless steel gas grill sat along the railing, sparkling clean. With a shake of his head, he fired it up. An array of grilling utensils hung off the side, along with a mitt that looked like it would stop any fire from reaching his skin.

  The thought brought back images of a car on fire, flames licking at his arm as he pulled Myranda from the car. The fear he wouldn’t get her out in time.

  Shaking away the memories, he picked up the tongs and started placing chicken on the grill. He’d managed to save Myranda and her dad that day, but not without a few scars of his own.

  ****

  Myranda set the knife on the cutting board with a sigh of frustration. What was wrong with her? She didn’t get nervous around people. Dealing with people was part of her job description. One she’d managed to do with ease. Until now.

  Until she met Brogan Steele.

  A Navy SEAL.

  With a body made for sin.

  The humidity had dampened his t-shirt, making it cling to a rock solid chest and rippled abs she tried not to be affected by, but couldn’t get out of her head. Knowing she’d been held against the muscular chest and carried by those powerful arms but couldn’t remember it only made it worse. This dreamy man saved her life and now, given her the best gift imaginable by remaining a silent partner. To say he was completely the opposite of what she’d expected would be the understatement of the century. The intensity that rolled off him in waves didn’t intimidate her. Instead it made her hot all over.

  Disgusted by her inappropriate thoughts, she picked up the knife and continued to slice fruit. This time willing the sexy SEAL out of her head so she could concentrate. Good thing he wasn’t sticking around because she’d never get any work done.

  Once she got the fruit sliced she tossed it in a serving bowl and set it on the table. She’d made some strawberry vinaigrette yesterday so she grabbed that out of the fridge and set it on the table too. Then she set two plates, wine glasses and water glasses.

  For a moment her heart squeezed tight. Usually the second plate would be reserved for her dad.

  With a sigh, she returned to the counter to finish the salad. She wished she’d made some rolls or baked potatoes to go with dinner. Then again, it had been planned for just her and she stayed away from carbs as much as possible. Brogan seemed like a man who had a hearty appetite and she was feeding him fruits and veggies.

  Nothing she could do about it now. Unless
she served him hummus and whole grain crackers.

  Sprinkling feta cheese and dried cranberries over the mix of romaine, spinach and sliced strawberries she gave a mental shrug. He’d just have to eat extra portions to fill up.

  Although, she did have a stash of salted caramel gelato in the freezer. The one vice she allowed herself on especially stressful days. No one had to know she’d gone through at least six containers since her father passed.

  “Chicken is done.”

  At Brogan’s announcement, she turned to see him striding into the room, both platters in hand. The dirty one he put in the sink, the other he set on the table.

  “Smells wonderful,” she said, carrying the salad over to set next to the chicken.

  “My mouth is watering.”

  A tingle rushed up her spine at his words. Brushing it off, she asked, “Would you like a glass of wine with dinner?”

  “Sure.”

  Hmmm…she’d figured him to be a beer kind of man. Rugged men like Brogan should drink beer, shouldn’t they? God, it hadn’t been that long since she dated.

  That little voice in her head reminded her this wasn’t a date and Brogan was no ordinary man. He was her business partner.

  “Take a seat. I’ll get the wine.”

  “No. You sit. You did all the work. I’ll get it.”

  With a nod she sat down. “The bottle is on the counter.”

  While he opened the bottle, she put servings of salad on their plates and topped it with chicken she quickly sliced. She’d just scooped the watermelon and berries into bowls when Brogan returned with the wine and poured it into their glasses.

  He sat across from her and looked at his plate. “This looks delicious. Are those dried cranberries?”

  “They are.” Unsure if he was pleased or not she waited for his response. The man made it very difficult to read him.

  “And feta cheese?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded. “Looks good.”

  Her shoulders relaxed slightly. “The vinaigrette goes over the salad. I hope you like fresh fruit.”

  “I like just about everything.”