SEAL Next Door

by Paige Tyler

  Her friend didn’t look so sure. Poppy completely understood why. Nyla had been there when Poppy had gotten involved with that stupid SEAL in the first place. They’d been arguing about what men looked for in a woman and Poppy had said something about how men only wanted a bimbo with all looks and no brains. A silly bet was made and the next thing Poppy knew, she was sleeping with a SEAL who had no idea who she really was. It had started as a joke and ended abruptly when Poppy realized she’d be stuck playing a role forever. Not that she’d wanted it to work. There’d been nothing between them except physical attraction. But still, finding out she was right and that he was more interested in her boobs than her brains had been depressing as hell. Enough that she’d swore off anyone in a Navy uniform.

  “Like I said, Sam is different.” Poppy sipped her coffee. “Hell, we initially bonded over the mathematical properties of a Rubik’s Cube. He’s not bothered or intimidated by the fact that I’m smart. If he was, he wouldn’t have asked me out on a date.”

  Nyla did a little happy dance right there in her chair, her dark, wavy hair bouncing. “Yes! And honey, if a guy can appreciate a woman who’s both beautiful and intelligent, then he isn’t just different—he’s special.”

  Poppy smiled. “You’re right. Sam is definitely special.”

  Nyla reached out and picked up a thick folder off the stack on the table in front of them and handed it to Poppy. “Well, now that we have the important stuff out of the way, I suppose we should get to work.”

  Opening the folder, Poppy took out the handful of the eight by ten matte photos inside, then spread them out on the table in front of her. The pics had been taken at long range with a telephoto lens in a low-light setting. The camera must have been insanely good, because even with the dim surroundings, she was able to make out most of the details. Not that it helped. She turned the pictures this way and that, trying to figure out what she was looking at.

  “Okay, I’ll play along,” Poppy said, flipping from picture to picture a few more times before reaching for the next folder and finding more of the same. “What am I looking at?”

  “You tell me,” Nyla said. “All I can confirm is that these pictures were taken by a covert DOD team a few nights ago somewhere in the Indonesian Archipelago. Two heavily armed groups met on the beach in what’s being described as an initial negotiation. One group offered the technical drawings while the other brought a pouch containing one or more cut and polished diamonds.”

  “Heavily armed groups?” Poppy mused, now looking up from the second group of pictures that looked very similar to the first. “I assume you’re talking about terrorists?”

  “Probably,” Nyla admitted. “Though it’s not out of the question that the group offering the drawings had state backing. What state? I have no idea. That’s where you come in. What the hell are in these drawings?”

  As Poppy spread the photos out on the big conference room table, she realized that some of them were multiple pictures taken of the same section of drawing, each from slightly different angles and at various exposure settings. She picked out the best view of each section of the drawing, discarding the rest, then she started organizing the photos on the table, putting them together like a big jigsaw puzzle. It didn’t take long to figure out what she was looking at once she had the pieces lined up right.

  “It’s a nuclear warhead,” she said. “More precisely, a North Korean warhead. Or the detailed technical plans for one anyway. Right down to the warhead serial number.”

  Nyla groaned. “I was worried you were going to say something like that.” Sighing, she got to her feet. “While you keep going through the pictures, I’m going to tell our boss that it looks like someone is trying to sell a nuclear weapon to a bunch of terrorists. I have no doubt they’ll be thrilled.”

  Poppy gave her a frown. “You don’t think these terrorists would actually nuke somebody if they get their hands on this thing, do you?”

  “I can’t imagine why you’d buy one if you weren’t going to use it,” Nyla said. “Luckily, it’s not our job to figure out how to stop something like this. We simply evaluate the threat and tell them if this thing will work.”

  On that cheery note, Nyla left to tell the powers that be, leaving Poppy alone with the photos and the job of figuring out if they were actually the plans for a functional nuclear weapon or an elaborate fake. But she didn’t mind. Nuclear weapons—especially foreign nuclear weapons—were her specialty.

  It was almost enough to make her laugh. All those years in college, taking math, physics, and engineering courses, only to become an expert on foreign nukes working for an organization with no name, never being able to tell a soul outside the walls of The Cave.

  Not that anyone would have believed it if she told them. As far as the world was concerned, Poppy was simply a college professor.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “I thought we were going to have dinner,” Poppy said curiously as Sam pulled his pickup off Hill Street and started south along the narrow boulevard that ran above the cliffs overlooking the ocean.

  Sam glanced over at Poppy beside him in the passenger seat. He thought she’d been devastatingly beautiful last night when she’d been casually dressed to go jogging. But now, wearing a yellow off-the-shoulder sun dress and just the slightest bit of makeup, she was so stunning it was hard to keep his eyes on the road.

  Which could be dangerous considering it was about a fifty-foot drop to the beach if he suddenly veered too far to the right.

  “We’re going to dinner, but I thought we’d do something a little different,” he said, turning into a parking lot near the corner of Sunset Cliffs Boulevard and Ladera Street. “You up for a little adventure?”

  Poppy expression was curious even as she nodded. “Always.”

  Grinning, Sam hopped out of the truck and walked around to open her door, offering her a hand as she slipped out. The hem of her sun dress rode up a little as she slid off the seat, exposing a length of long, toned thigh, but he forced himself to keep his eyes locked on her smile, refusing to be that guy.

  Poppy was quiet as he led her along the walkways that meandered through the Sunset Cliffs Natural Park, but he could tell she wanted to ask what they were doing there. He only prayed his plan for the evening worked out right. He wanted to impress her, but with less than twelve hours’ notice, he hadn’t had a lot of time to come up with something.

  When they walked around the corner in the walkway and came out onto a grassy bluff overlooking the ocean dotted with surfers, Sam heard Poppy gasp.

  Maybe he’d pulled this off after all.

  While Poppy stood there beaming, Sam wondered what part of the scene she liked more—the visual of the sun slowly sinking toward the blue horizon or the charming little table full of picnic food. But either way, the look on her face told him he’d hit the ball out of the park.

  As he guided her over to the small table set on the colorful beach blanket surrounded by throw pillows, he took in the trays of meat, cheese, and fresh fruit, as well as the covered tray of bite-sized pieces of cheesecake and brownies.

  The red-haired woman waiting for them smiled. “You’re right on time! We just finished setting up your picnic and the sun won’t be going down for about an hour, so you two will have plenty of time to talk. Enjoy!”

  Before Sam had a chance to thank the woman from the picnic company, she and her assistant were off, both smiling at the look on Poppy’s face. They probably got that a lot. When it came to romantic gestures, picnics on a cliff overlooking the ocean had to be at the top of the list.

  Poppy looked at him, her face incredulous. “How did you set all this up so fast? Not that I’m complaining, of course, but you know you didn’t have to do anything this expensive for a first date, right?”

  Sam tried to figure out if he should take a seat across from her so he could look at her, or beside her so they could both have a view of the ocean. The decision was ultimately taken out of his hands when Poppy sat down facing
the water and immediately motioned for him to sit beside her.

  “I know, but I wanted to do something special—and different,” he said as he joined her. “The picnic company handled everything, including the permit to set up in the park, and it wasn’t all that expensive. Even if it was, I still would have done it. You’re worth it.”

  The smile Poppy gave him made Sam want to pump his fist in the air and shout SCORE! but he controlled himself. He had to keep his cool, calm exterior. So instead, he flipped open the cooler beside him and took out the small cans of flavored sparkling water. He didn’t normally drink the stuff, but that’s what came with the meal, so he’d make do.

  “To first dates,” he said after filling the fancy copper cups and offering his up in a toast. “And hopefully many more to come.”

  She clinked her cup against his, then took a sip. Sam wasn’t sure how long he sat there mesmerized by her beautiful pursed lips before he forced himself to take a drink.

  “How was work today?” she asked as they added meat, cheese, fruit, and crackers to their wooden plates. “You mentioned last night that you had to be in stupid-early this morning.”

  Sam chuckled at the memory, wishing he hadn’t needed to say those words because he’d wanted more than anything to spend time with her. But unfortunately, duty really had been calling.

  “It wasn’t too bad,” he said. “They had us in early for PT—physical training—followed by hours of equipment maintenance and cleaning. That’s what you do in the Navy when the people in charge don’t have anything better for you to do. Even with the gloves I was wearing, it still took forever to get the smell of solvent out of my skin.”

  Of course, Sam didn’t mention that the reason they had nothing to do was because they were all waiting around to hear about the outcome of that surveillance op in Indonesia. It had been days since that mission and there hadn’t been a peep out of the CIA. In theory, they were supposed to get a briefing about it tomorrow morning, but he’d believe that when it happened.

  Sam also didn’t tell her that the equipment he and his Teammates spent the day cleaning were carbines and submachine guns. That would have tipped Poppy off that he was something much different than a machinist mate. He hated lying, but he’d created this fake role and now he had to play it—or lose any chance with Poppy.

  “How about you?” he asked, biting into some kind of spicy meat that he couldn’t name, but still liked all the same. “What’s the day-to-day life of a math professor at San Diego Mesa College like?”

  Poppy had mentioned where she worked last night over pizza, along with a few details on her teaching credentials. He’d been fascinated to hear that she had her doctorate, but at that moment she seemed surprised he remembered where she taught.

  “What?” He grinned. “You didn’t think I’d remember?”

  She shrugged, nibbling on a piece of cheese. “Actually, yeah. Most of the guys I’ve dated weren’t particularly interested in what I taught, much less where. But to answer your question, today was pretty standard. I didn’t have any classes to teach, but did look over a few papers. The rest of the time I was buried in a research project I’m involved in. It was interesting, but dry.”

  At they ate, they chatted for a while about their respective days. Sam got the feeling that teaching was a relatively small part of what she did on a regular basis. He guessed that came with the doctorate degree. He’d heard professors at that level had to constantly do research and publish papers to maintain their standing in their field.

  “There was something you mentioned last night that got me thinking,” he said. “About your doctorate degree. Please don’t think I’m trying to call you out or anything, but doesn’t it take a long time to get a PhD? I mean, you look like you’re about my age. Aren’t most people close to thirty by the time they get to where you are?”

  Poppy froze, the cup of flavored water halfway to her mouth, turning to look at him. For a moment, he thought for sure he’d insulted her or something, but then her shoulders relaxed.

  “Do you know that you’re the first and only guy who has ever asked me that?” she said softly. “The first guy to ever make the connection and add up the numbers in your head. I’m not sure if that says more about you or the men I’ve been dating.”

  There might have been some question marks in that little diatribe, but something told him that Poppy didn’t expect an answer. So instead, he sat there and waited. He’d learned that from his dad.

  “When women want your opinion, they’ll ask for it. Until then, keep your thoughts to yourself.”

  “I was always insanely good at math and science,” she continued. “Even when I was a little kid. I have no idea why. My parents aren’t academics. Dad is an auto mechanic and Mom is a loan specialist at a mortgage company. The most I can say is that they always encouraged me to read. And when I started showing an interest in advanced studies at school, they urged me to pursue them.”

  “When you say a little kid, how old are we talking about?” Sam asked. “Twelve, thirteen?”

  She laughed, eating a big lush strawberry, the juice staining her lips an even darker pink than they already were. “I finished high school before I turned sixteen, had my bachelor’s from UC Berkeley by nineteen, and a PhD before I turned twenty-three. So, yeah, I started young.”

  Whoa.

  Sam ate a little more cheese, then a few olives and grapes, thinking about what she’d told him. Poppy must have taken his silence for something different than what it was, because she stopped eating to regard him with an expression halfway between disappointed and accepting.

  “It’s really not that big of a deal,” Poppy said, and he got the feeling she was sorry she’d ever mentioned anything about her education. “I have a couple degrees. There’s nothing special about that.”

  Before his eyes, Poppy was almost shrinking in on herself, her shoulders sagging, gaze trained on the small table, like she was ashamed of what she’d accomplished and how smart she was. Had the other men she’d dated made her feel that way?

  “It seems pretty special to me,” he said, slipping his fingers under her chin and gently turning her face his way. “In fact, it’s impressive as hell. And you should never let anyone tell you any different. I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been going to college when you were so much younger than everyone else there. I don’t think I would have been able to do it myself.”

  The expression on Poppy’s face was so full of hope and gratitude that it was like watching the sun come up. “Thanks,” she said. “Nobody’s ever said anything like that to me or even took the time to consider the situation from my perspective.”

  Sam picked up a strawberry and held it up to her lips. “Well, most people are stupid. So, there’s that.”

  She laughed and bit into the piece of fruit, a little dribble of juice running across her bottom lip and down her chin. She quickly wiped it away with her finger, giving him an embarrassed smile. Damn, he wanted to kiss her so badly right now.

  But he didn’t want to rush this thing with her. She was too special for that.

  As the sun crept closer to the horizon, Poppy told him about reading college texts on math and science while eating lunch in middle school and living at home with her parents during her bachelor’s program while her college classmates lived in the dorms or apartments off campus.

  “Don’t get me wrong. It isn’t like I was socially awkward or anything like that guy from The Big Bang Theory,” Poppy said when Sam asked about making friends with people older than her. “But when you’re under the legal drinking age for the majority of your university experience and are smarter than people in your class older than you are, it can be difficult to connect with people.”

  “I can see that,” he said. “Did you get to party at least a little bit in college, or did you spend all of your time studying?”

  “I dated some, but not until I was pursuing my doctorate,” she said. “It wasn’t difficult finding guys who’d
ask me out since the program I was in was mostly made up of men, but I never clicked with any of them.”

  He grinned. “Well, their loss is my gain.”

  She blushed, the color rivaling that of the sunset. Both were equally mesmerizing. Sam had lived in San Diego his entire live and would never get tired of the ocean views, but sharing it with Poppy made it feel like he was experiencing it for the first time all over again.

  It was almost completely dark by the time the people from the picnic place arrived to clean up. Sam thanked them again and gave them a big tip, saying he and Poppy had a wonderful time.

  “Dinner was perfect,” she said as they walked to his pickup.

  “I’m glad you liked it.” Sam grinned, mentally patting himself on the back. “I thought we might do something else, too, if you’re up for it.”

  She flashed him a smile so bright that it lit up the early evening darkness. “Definitely. What do you have in mind?”

  * * * * *

  Sam’s steps were perfectly in sync with Poppy’s as they walked up to the second floor of their apartment building. He had one arm draped across her shoulders and she had one of hers wrapped tightly around his waist. She’d been huddled close like that since the middle of the haunted ghost tour they’d gone on after dinner. He wasn’t sure if Poppy had truly been scared by all the spooky stories their guide told, but he preferred to think she was using it as an excuse to get close to him.

  “I can’t believe I’ve lived here my entire life and have never done a ghost tour,” she said when they reached her door. “That was incredible! Though if I come banging on your door in the middle of the night because I can’t sleep, you have no one to blame but yourself.”

  He chuckled as Poppy unlocked the door and led him inside. “I’ve available for late night support anytime you need me, which makes having me right across the hallway very convenient.”