Mad Max disappeared out the door, and after a moment, Shea followed. SEALs…so damn secretive. She exited the building and headed for her car. He was right. She would have to find the internal discipline to stop staring at the man or there would be more speculation neither of them could afford or wanted.
She reached into her bag to pull out her keys and headed for her car parked just outside the door in the parking lot reserved for the building.
“Hold up?” She heard the loud call and turned to find Sinclair jogging toward her, soaking wet and caked with sand.
“You ducking out on me again?”
She gave him the once over. Damn, he still looked good wet, sandy…naked. She mentally slapped herself hard, but she couldn’t keep her thoughts in line. She held her position, watching him come toward her. She’d had a difficult time leaving him. That was until she reminded herself who she was and what she still needed to accomplish…without any relationship baggage, or sharing for that matter. She wanted to keep it all to herself. It was too personal to talk about even to her brother. She should have been able to walk away from him without a backward glance, without saying goodbye. But here he was, walking toward her with that loose-hipped saunter of his, smiling that full-of-hell smile. Determined not to let him see how his arrival had affected her, she said, her tone dry, “You looked like you were pretty busy following orders.”
He grinned showing white teeth and that wicked smile she hadn’t forgotten, tipping his head to one side. What the heck was wrong with her?
She leaned against her car, working hard at not letting him matter at all.
He aligned his body next to hers. “Nothing too taxing. Just a refreshing dip in the ocean and a nice roll on the beach.”
“I once had a dog who enjoyed that. How are you at catching a frisbee?”
He laughed softly, the glint in his eyes turning into a wicked gleam. “Competent. But the burning question is: How are you on belly rubs?”
Amusement flickered through her. He was a tantalizing tease. “Competent,” she said.
He grinned at her and braced his hand on the roof of the car, holding her gaze with the kind of amused familiarity that made her insides churn. “I had a good time before you ditched me. I wouldn’t protest if you wanted to use me again.”
She gave him a long, level look. “You were a good time,” she said, unable to stop the soft grin on her face.
“How good?”
She gave him another look of mild rebuke. “If you want to go fishing, Sinclair, there’s a whole ocean right over there.” She gestured loosely in the direction of the vast Pacific. The waves so close she could hear them crashing against the shore.
His gaze fixed on her, he continued to grin at her, the glint in his dark blue eyes intensifying. There was something different about his face, a little leaner, maybe, the smooth skin around his eyes showing a few fine lines. He held her gaze, the expression in his eyes softening, becoming a little warmer, a little more intimate. The kind of look a man gave a woman he had thoroughly enjoyed and wanted to do again. God help her.
“You are a sassy, beautiful woman, Shea Palmer.”
Something in his tone, something in his eyes, set off a tingling in every nerve ending, fluttering in her chest making her feel like a girl, a woman. It almost hurt how good it felt. He was a game changer, and he didn’t even know the score.
He leaned in, and she leaned back. “No way, sandman.”
He nodded and pushed off the car, and she felt a moment’s disappointment that he hadn’t put up more of a fight. He walked to the edge of the building and picked up a hose. Without hesitation, he turned it on and lifted the end up over his head washing off most of the sand on his face. The white T-shirt molded to his chest and upper arms and she got lost in the memory of how it was to touch all that sleek hard muscle.
He dropped the hose, turned it off and walked back to her. He didn’t touch her, but she could feel the heat from his body, and she braced herself and closed her eyes, sensations washing through her, making her body tighten and hum. He was too close, but she had to admit she couldn’t argue.
He watched her intently, and she had no doubt that he was going to be a formidable warrior. “How about you put me out of my misery then and come to our class-up party on Gator Beach at eighteen hundred? Might be a rare photo op for you. Good time to interview us guys before we get the mother of all beat downs.”
Striving to keep her voice normal, she lifted her chin. “Are you sure you want me to have all that variety to choose from?”
He dropped his head, his voice husky when he spoke. “There wasn’t anyone else in my class you were looking at during that briefing. I’m pretty confident it’ll be me going home with you.”
His tone set off such a reaction in her that she needed the car for support. She closed her eyes, trying to corral her feelings. Her eyes popped open when she felt his fingers against her skin. He turned her face toward him, his expression unsmiling, his eyes dark and intent.
“Come on, Shea,” he said, his voice whiskey soft, “I’ll let you teach me some new tricks.”
Held transfixed by the intimacy of his touch, and his playful attitude, she stared at him, her insides balling up into resistance and resignation.
Feeling as if she was drowning, drugged by sensation, he tipped her face up and slowly lowered his head, and Shea made a helpless sound, her eyes drifting shut. Exerting pressure on her jaw, he opened her mouth, then covered it in a wet, deep, cajoling kiss that drove every ounce of strength out of her body and made her knees weak. She reached for his shoulder, the soggy cloth dampening her palm as she slid her fingers against his soft skin, into his wet hair.
He worked his mouth hungrily against hers as if it had been much too long since he’d done this. Shea couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. All she could do was hang on and ride out the thousand sensations exploding in her. “Damn, babe, you taste so good,” he whispered, breaking the kiss. “I’ll see you tonight?”
Stroking his nape, she had to say no. Every reason that she should nip this in the bud rising up in her like the tide. It would be too much of a distraction, a disaster, they couldn’t make it work, and it could compromise her case, her job, her sanity, her empty heart, her revenge. No. It was too stupid.
“Yes,” she said, like a complete and utter moron. “I’ll come.”
“I’ve got to go,” he murmured and stepped away from her.
“Wait,” she called. “What is your first name?”
“I’ll tell you at the party tonight,” he said that wicked grin and his handsome face disappearing behind the building.
5
Showered, dressed in civvies, and lightly fatigued after all the clean-up required after BO and preparation to move to the new four-man barracks, Hemingway walked onto Gator Beach’s picnic area located a half block from the Special Warfare barracks. The new barracks were located directly on the beach with a clear view of the ocean. Hemingway couldn’t get enough of the view. If this had been a residential area, the prices for any type of dwelling would be up into the millions.
His new room was more spacious than the barracks at BUD/S Prep, where they had forty-eight men in a room and the only personal space was the rack or bed. Four to a room with a shared bathroom between every two rooms was sheer luxury. At least he wouldn’t be doing sit-ups in the middle of the night because some joker he didn’t even know didn’t make his bed.