Hot SEAL, Alaskan Nights (SEALs in Paradise)

by Cynthia D'Alba

  “Sorry, SEAL. I decided if I was marrying into the Van der Hayden family, I had to get my license like everyone else.”

  Levi laughed and took one of the rear seats. “Do you mean Bob finally gave in and got a license? That’ll make Nancy happy.”

  “Oh no. Not Bob,” his mother said. “He and I are a bonded set. We will land in an emergency, but the rest of you can do the driving.”

  “Flying, Mom,” Macy said.

  “Whatever.”

  As they flew home, Mom asked about his plans. He had hoped to talk with his parents alone about this, but she’d asked.

  “You know how much I love living here, right? And love you guys, right?”

  His mom nodded but she frowned, too.

  “I love Bailey, Mom. I want to marry her.”

  “Your dad and I adore Bailey. We figured she was in your life to stay.”

  “Yeah, dummy,” Macy said. “Even Lydia knows that, don’t you, sweetheart?” she cooed to her baby.

  Levi chuckled at Macy. The hard-nosed lawyer from his dad’s office was completely wrapped around the tiny fingers of her daughter. She looked happy, and he was thrilled for her and Doug.

  “But,” he continued, “she lives in Texas. I’ve been there some, and it’s not bad. It’s not Alaska, but if she’s there, I have to be there, too. I hope you understand.”

  His mother patted his check. “Of course, we understand. When you find the one, well, that’s it, isn’t it? What’s life if you have to be without the one you love? I know that if your father had insisted on living somewhere other than Alaska, I would have gone too. That’s just the way it is.”

  “Of course, she’d have bitched at me until we came back,” his dad said.

  His mom punched his dad’s shoulder. Levi and Macy laughed.

  “I was the smart one,” Macy said. “I found me an Alaskan man.”

  “I thought I found me an Alaskan woman,” Doug said.

  “You all are making me gag,” Levi joked, but then he turned serious. “I’ll come home as often as we can. I called when I left Coronado, but she didn’t answer. I left a message that I was coming home for a couple of weeks, and then I’d head to Texas.”

  His mother patted his knee. “It’ll all work out.”

  His dad let Doug land the plane on Beluga Lake and idle the craft to the family dock. His brothers met them as they had twelve months ago and secured the plane. After hugs and insults, they all trooped to the house.

  Delicious aromas filled the house as he entered. His stomach growled a complaint that it hadn’t been fed in hours. One of the things he wouldn’t miss about being a SEAL was eating MREs. Basic nutrition with basic taste.

  The nieces and nephews were their usual loud, rambunctious selves. Patrick, Jr. was well over six-feet now at fifteen, and his voice had dropped. Levi shook his head at all he’d missed, and sadly, at all he would miss in the future.

  But his decision was firm. He had no life without Bailey.

  “I’m starved,” he announced. “When do we eat?”

  “Now,” shouted five young voices.

  His mother began herding the grandchildren into the kitchen and stopped. She turned to Levi. “I totally forgot. You got a package from Texas. I left it in your room.”

  “I’ll get it after dinner,” he said. “Probably a new cowboy hat from Bailey’s dad.”

  “Go get it now,” she said. “I’m dying of curiosity to see what it is.”

  “Fine,” he groused and stomped up the stairs to his old room.

  He opened the door and stopped dead in his tracks. Stretched out on his bed was Bailey, wearing only high heels and a smile.

  “You might want to close that door unless sex education for the younger Van der Haydens is on the agenda.”

  His heart thudded in his chest as he slammed and locked the door. “Damn, woman. You look good.”

  She held out her arms, and two long strides later, he was enfolded in her embrace.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” he said.

  “Surprise!”

  “How long can you stay?” He kissed her deeply. “I have missed you so much.” He kissed her again.

  After nibbles and licks and deep tongue kisses, he pulled back. “How long are you here for?”

  “Oh, I’d say at least fifty years.”

  His heart fired like an AK-47. “Say that again.”

  “Fifty years minimum, if that’s okay with you.”

  He hugged her tightly until she laughed in protest.

  “I can’t breathe, Levi.”

  “You’re staying?” he asked, afraid to dream what he’d thought was an impossible dream.

  “I’m here to stay. Bought into Braverman’s practice, so yeah, here to stay.”

  “I bought our house from my friend’s parents.” He thought he’d surprise her too. “I’d thought, living in Texas, we’d be able to use it as a vacation home.”

  She smiled. “I know. I bought new furniture for it. Your mom helped.”

  “That woman never could keep a secret, until today.”

  She laughed.

  Levi snapped his fingers. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  He ran downstairs and grabbed his duffle. “Um, not hungry. Don’t wait on me.”

  His dad waved and the rest of the table snickered into their plates. Oh, there’d be revenge, he vowed. Every one of them had known Bailey was here, but hadn’t even hinted.

  He raced back upstairs, flew through the door, slammed it again and dropped his duffle.

  Bailey propped her head up on one hand. “Well, this is getting interesting.”

  He rifled through the interior until he pulled a box from the bottom. “This is for you,” he announced.

  She waved “gimme me” fingers.

  “Not yet. You have to pass the quiz first.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Quiz? Is this a hard quiz?”

  He opened the box to show her a two-carat, oval diamond ring. “Here’s the only question on the quiz. Will you marry me?”

  She laughed and launched herself at him. “Easiest quiz ever. Of course, I’ll marry you.”

  He slipped the ring on her finger. She held her hand out and watched the diamond sparkle.

  “The good thing about Alaskan Nights in the summer,” she said, “is that I can see this.”

  She kissed him.

  “But,” she continued, “the best thing about Alaskan nights is you and me together.”

  “Forever,” he said.

  About the Author

  Photo by Annie Ray

  New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Cynthia D’Alba was born and raised in a small Arkansas town. After being gone for a number of years, she’s thrilled to be making her home back in Arkansas living on the banks of an eight-thousand acre lake.

  When she’s not reading or writing or plotting, she’s doorman for her spoiled border collie, cook, housekeeper and chief bottle washer for her husband and slave to a noisy, messy parrot. She loves to chat online with friends and fans.

  Send snail mail to: Cynthia D’Alba PO Box 2116 Hot Springs, AR 71914

  Or better yet! She would love for you to take her newsletter. She promises not to spam you, not to fill your inbox with advertising, and not to sell your name and email address to anyone. Check her website for a link to her newsletter.

  www.cynthiadalba.com

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  cynthiadalba@gmail.com

  Keep reading for excerpts from other

  SEALs of Paradise books.

  Hot SEAL, Col Beer

  A Diamond Lakes, TX/SEALs in Paradise Novel

  An ex-Navy SEAL agrees to play fake lover for the Maid of Honor at a destination wedding only to discover that what happens on a Caribbean Island can sometimes follow you home.

  Nicholas Falcone, aka Nikko, aka Falcon, is five months out from active SEAL duty, putting his pre-service accounting degree to use while going
to law school at night. He’d love to take a vacation between semesters, but every buck is earmarked for his education. When a fellow accountant approaches him about his sister needing an escort for a destination wedding, Nikko jumps at the idea. With the wedding families footing the bill, what does he have to lose?

  Surgeon Dr. Jennifer Pierce is still stinging from a broken engagement. Going to a destination wedding at the Sand Castle Resort in the Caribbean would be great if only her ex-fiancé and his new wife weren’t also attending. Her options are to find a date or not go, but not going isn’t really an option. That means letting her brother set her up with a guy from his accounting office…Heaven forbid. When did accountants start looking like this?

  ** Cold Beer ** is part of the Diamond Lakes, Texas Series and Sand Castle Resort series. Each book can be read as a stand-alone. They do not have cliffhanger endings.

  **Hot SEAL, Cold Beer** is also in the “SEALs in Paradise” connected series. Each book in the multi-author branded SEALs in Paradise series can be read stand-alone, and individual books do not have to be read in any particular order.

  Copyright © 2018 Cynthia D’Alba

  All rights reserved — Riante, Inc.

  If there was one thing Dr. Jennifer Pierce hated, it was not being in control. She’d rather tell people what to do than be told. She despised surprises and was much more comfortable in situations where she had all the information. And, most importantly, she maintained a firm discipline over all emotions, especially her own.

  However, right now, she was as nervous as a first-year med student holding a scalpel in surgery, and that irritated her, which only amped up her anxiety.

  She agitated the martini shaker violently, the ice clanging against the stainless-steel container like a hail storm. After pouring the dry martini into a glass, she took a long, steadying sip.

  Yeah, that didn’t help her nerves.

  On the other hand, the stiff drink didn’t hurt, either.

  With a resigned sigh, she walked to the living room and sat to await Nicholas Falcone. Her brother, Robert, had suggested Falcone as her potential date for a fast-approaching destination wedding. She loved her twin brother and trusted him...mostly. Because historically, the men he believed perfect for her had been so far off the mark as to be not even in the same book, much less on the same page. But she was between a rock and a slab of granite.

  All she knew about this Falcone guy was he worked at McKenzie, Gladwell and Associates with her brother and had been a Navy SEAL. Weren’t they called jarheads? Hell, she didn’t know. She took another gulp of the cold vodka. What she knew about the military wouldn’t fill a shot glass.

  She’d give her brother credit for one thing. If Falcone’s online photo was anywhere accurate, Nicholas Falcone looked the part she needed him to play. When Robert had called her to tell her about his solution to her dateless dilemma, she’d pulled up her brother’s accounting firm on the internet to look at the staff photos and had been pleasantly surprised. The picture had been of a gorgeous guy with a neatly trimmed beard, a sexy smile, and mischievous eyes. Man, she hoped he could carry on a decent conversation and not grunt answers to everything.

  Her doorbell pealed, and her heart jumped in response. Pressing her hand over her quaking stomach, she drew in a calming breath, not that a calming breath had ever helped. So she took the next best option to deep breathing and finished off her martini.

  Carrying her empty glass with her, she opened the door and looked at her potential blind date. Her brain hiccuped or maybe quit functioning altogether. He didn’t look at all like she’d expected and prepared for. In person, he was…more. A whole lot more. With his chiseled cheeks and sharp chin, he was a million times more attractive in real life. His green eyes—a billion times more beautiful than that black-and-white photo showed—held an amused twinkle that coordinated handsomely with his amused smile. And his body? Dear lord. Broad shoulders pulled a white, oxford shirt tightly across them. Long sleeves rolled to mid-forearm exposed thick, ropey muscles that bunched and flexed when he extended his hand.

  “Dr. Pierce. I’m Nikko Falcone.”

  Hot SEAL, Black Coffee

  A Dallas Debutante/SEALs in Paradise Novel

  Dealing with a sexy ex-girlfriend, a jewel heist, and a murder-for-hire can make an ex-SEAL bodyguard a tad cranky.

  Trevor Mason accepts what should be a simple job…protect the jewels his ex-girlfriend will wear to a breast cancer fundraiser. As founder and owner of Eye Spy International, he should send one of his guys, but he needs to get his ex out of his system and this is the perfect opportunity to remind himself that she is a spoiled, rich debutante who dumped him with a Dear John letter during his SEAL training.

  Respected breast cancer doctor Dr. Risa McCool hates being in the limelight for her personal life. Her life’s work is breast cancer treatment and research, which she’d rather be known for than for her carefree, partying debutante years. She agrees to be the chairperson for the annual breast cancer fundraiser even though it means doing publicity appearances and interviews, all while wearing the famous pink Breast Cancer Diamond for each public event. The multi-million dollar value of the pink stone requires an armed bodyguard at all times.

  Past attractions flame, proving to be a distraction to the serious reality of the situation. When Risa and the millions in diamonds go missing, nothing will stop Trevor from bringing her home, with or without the jewels.

  Copyright © 2018 Cynthia D’Alba

  All rights reserved — Riante, Inc.

  At two-thirty Monday afternoon, Dr. Risa McCool’s world shifted on its axis. He was back. She wasn’t ready. But then, would she ever be ready?

  Four hours passed before she was able to disengage from work and go home. As she pulled under the portico of her high-rise building and the condo valet hurried out to park her eight-year-old sedan, her stomach roiled at the realization that Trevor Mason—high school and college boyfriend and almost fiancé—would be waiting for her in her condo, or at least should be. She pressed a shaking hand to her abdomen and inhaled a deep, calming breath. It didn’t work. There was still a slight quiver to her hands as she grabbed her purse and briefcase from the passenger seat.

  She paused to look in the mirror. A tired brunette looked back at her. Dark circles under her eyes. Limp hair pulled into a ponytail at the back of her head. Pale lips. Paler cheeks. Not one of her better looks.

  Would he be the same? Tall with sun-kissed hair and mesmerizing azure-blue eyes?

  Tall, sure. That was a given.

  Eye color would have to be the same, but his sun-bleached hair? His muscular physique? In high school and college, he’d played on the offense for their high school and college football teams, but she had never really understood what he did. Sometimes he ran and sometimes he hit other guys. What she remembered were strong arms and a wide chest. Would those be the same?

  Almost fifteen years had passed since she’d last seen him. He hadn’t come back for their tenth nor their fifteenth high school reunions. The explanation for his absences involved SEAL missions to who knew where. Risa had wondered if she’d ever see him again, whether he’d make it through all his deployments and secret ops.

  Well, he had and now she had to work with him.

  She took a deep breath and slid from the car.

  “Good Evening, Dr. McCool,” the valet said.

  “Evening, John. Do you know if my guest arrived?”

  “Yes, ma’am. About four hours ago.”

  “Do you know if the groceries were delivered?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Cleaning service has also been in.”

  “Thank you. Have a nice evening.”

  “You, too.”

  She acknowledged the guard on duty at the desk with a nod and continued to the private residents-only elevator that opened to a back-door entrance to her condo. After putting her key in the slot, she pressed the button for the forty-first floor and then leaned against the wall for the ride.
<
br />   Her anxiety at seeing Trevor climbed as the elevator dinged past each floor. It was possible, even probable, that she had made a mistake following her mother’s advice to employ his company. She was required to have a bodyguard for every public event since the announcement of the pink Breast Cancer Diamond. Her insurance company insisted on it. The jewelry designer demanded it. And worse, her mother was adamant on a guard. How did one say no to her mother?

  Plus, as head of the Dallas Area Breast Cancer Research Center, she’d been tasked with wearing that gaudy necklace with a pink diamond big enough to choke a horse for the annual fundraising gala. The damn thing was worth close to fifteen or twenty million and was heavy as hell. Who’d want it?

  The elevator dinged one last time and the doors slid open. She stepped into a small vestibule and let herself into her place expecting to see Trevor.

  Only, she didn’t.

  Instead there was music—jazz to be specific. She followed the sounds of Stan Getz to her balcony, her heart in her throat.

  A man sat in a recliner facing the night lights of Dallas, a highball in one hand, a cigar in the other.

  “I’m glad to see you stock the good bourbon,” he said, lifting the glass, but not turning to face her. “And my brand, too. Should I be impressed?”

  Her jaw clenched. Their fights had always been about money—what she had and what he didn’t.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Are you impressed?”

  He took a drag off the cigar and chased the smoke down his throat with a gulp of hundred-dollar bourbon. “Naw. You can afford it.”

  “Are you going to look at me or will my first conversation with you in fifteen years be with the back of your head?”

  After stabbing out the cigar, he finished his drink, sat it on the tile floor, and rose. Lord, he was still as towering and overwhelming as she remembered him. At five-feet-ten-inches, Risa was tall, but Trevor’s height made her feel positively petite. As he turned, every muscle in her body tensed as she stood unsure whether she was preparing to fight him, flee from him or fuck him.