Wet N Wild Navy SEALs

by Tawny Weber

  “You sure?”

  No. Kiss it and make it better. Not just the lump on her head, but the whole out-of-control situation. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “What was it you wanted to ask me?”

  A last roll of toilet paper bounced off her head and hit the floor. There was an apologetic glint in his blue eyes as he covered his smile.

  “Where’s the ladies’ room?”

  1300 Monday

  NAVAL SPECIAL WARFARE CENTER,

  Coronado, CA

  Hair damp from his recent run, Marc strode toward his office. Dry cleaning in one hand, deli lunch in the other, he dropped the sack to his desk and continued through the paneled door to his private locker room.

  RHIP. Rank Has Its Privilege. A far cry from his enlisted days. But then not everyone took the hard road. Some like Lieutenant Chapel with her Academy appointment and privileged background had it made.

  At eighteen he’d been too eager to be his own man to stay put and too impatient for college. His grades were another matter.

  And of course there was his family situation.

  Not to mention his record full of criminal misdemeanors. Joyriding—in a borrowed car at fifteen. Shoplifting—a can of spray paint. Vandalism—because the spray paint was too tempting. Underage drinking—his share of a six-pack with the guys. And a B&E that almost landed him in jail when he was really only climbing out of Carol’s bedroom window.

  The judge had given him a choice. The Navy had seemed like the right one at the time.

  Streetwise and with a chip on his shoulder, boot camp was a breeze. SEALs struck him as a challenge worth meeting. Then Seaman Miller came face to face with the Toad. SEAL instructor, Captain Tad Prince.

  Hanging his uniforms in the first of four oversize lockers, he picked up his laundry from the bottom. He sniffed a T-shirt just to make sure it was dirty.

  “Whew.” No question there.

  He tossed it and a couple of stray socks to the rack along the opposite wall. Complete with Navy issue cotton sheets and wool blanket it often served as his bed during the long hours of indoctrinating trainees. A chair at the foot was the only other piece of furniture in the room.

  His home away from home. Hell, it was home from predawn to post dusk five days a week and more often than not on weekends. He’d come this far just to prove himself to the one man he’d never been able to impress.

  A Toad who took perverse pleasure in knocking that chip off his shoulder every day for twenty-one weeks. A Toad who’d proved that at nineteen, Seaman Miller was a far cry from a man.

  It was the Toad who’d dared him to do more. To be more. Marc scoffed at the distant memory. Night school and a little Brasso could turn even the toughest street thug into an officer.

  But apparently not a gentleman.

  His behavior toward Lieutenant Chapel was reprehensible at best, felonious at worst, definitely beneath a Naval officer.

  What was it about the woman that made him forget all he’d learned? Her father? Her ambition?

  Whatever it was, she was fast becoming his obsession.

  Marc grabbed his shaving kit. As an afterthought he turned to the door that led to the passageway. Opening it, he turned around the hand-printed sign that read Ladies’ Room. Funny he’d never noticed the whole damn building didn’t have one.

  He headed to the shower. Stripping, he cranked up the warm spray and stepped beneath it. He soaped his body and lathered his hair. What had he been thinking when he’d reached out and touched spun gold?

  That it was as soft as silk.

  “You weren’t thinking, Miller. That’s the problem.” He closed his eyes against the sting of shampoo. He couldn’t help himself. There was something about her that sent the blood rushing from his brain to below his belt.

  Was he finally becoming the thing he despised most?

  God help him.

  During his inspection of her he’d felt a surge of power that had nothing to do with rank and position. And everything to do with control. He was powerful. And he held her powerless. Marc turned up the cold water until the icy spray pelted away the image and all he remembered was that damn briefcase she’d dropped on his foot.

  He grinned. She was a tough cookie.

  Cookies crumbled.

  Why did he feel this overpowering need to break her or take her?

  He wasn’t a misogynist. He didn’t hate women.

  He didn’t hate her.

  He didn’t even hate her father….

  “Commander?” He’d recognize that voice anywhere. Had it only been five days since he’d met her?

  “Damn!” He wasn’t in the habit of closing the door adjoining his office. There’d been no need for privacy, until now. Grabbing a towel, he wrapped it around his waist.

  His office door was wide open, and she stood on the threshold.

  “Back here, Lieutenant.” He ran a hand over his dripping hair. Two hundred and twenty soaking wet pounds in nothing but a towel and dog tags. He’d teach her to knock.

  “Perry wasn’t at his desk. The door was...” She stopped mid-explanation and midstride, shielding her gaze with a stack of manila folders.

  “I thought every Midshipman learned to knock his first week at the Academy.”

  “I knocked. You didn’t hear me.”

  He stared at her until she peeked over the folders.

  “I’ll wait outside.”

  “That would be a good idea.”

  Red-faced, she gripped the door handle and pulled it toward her.

  “They usually faint,” he teased, when it was almost shut.

  She poked her head back in. “Get real. I have two brothers.” She looked him over in what could only be considered a very un-sisterly fashion.

  “Go before I decide to drop my towel.”

  She bowed out gracefully, leaving him so hot and bothered, he forgot he’d taken a cold shower. Where was his resolve?

  It was painfully obvious he had to get himself under control.

  Hell Week was a cakewalk compared to this. Marc dressed in his woodland cammies. He left the uniform shirt on the hanger in favor of the puke-green T-shirt worn underneath. He took his time lacing his combat boots.

  “Enter,” he called when he finished, closing the locker room door behind him.

  Tabitha stopped just inside his office, hugging the stack of folders. The blush was still in evidence, giving her that “girl next door” look. It contrasted with the uniform. And most of all with her sassy tongue.

  “Approach the desk, Lieutenant. I don’t feel like shouting across the room.” Sitting, he pulled a Tootsie Pop from his stash. He didn’t offer her one. They were all his and he hoarded his stash jealously.

  She laid the stack of open file folders on his desk. “These need your signature, Commander.”

  “What—?”

  “That pile of paperwork you dumped on me this morning.”

  Rolling the grape-flavored sucker over his tongue, he skimmed the first one as she explained what it was and pointed to a brightly flagged signature block with her neatly trimmed and buffed fingernails.

  As she went through the similarly marked stack, he found himself paying more attention to her manicured hands than to what he was signing. While making love, would she rake her nails across a man’s back? Or dig them into his flesh? Maybe she wasn’t a scratcher, but a biter. Or maybe she drove a man crazy with her hands kneading his buttocks. Or running feather-light caresses down his spine.

  He wanted to know. He needed to know.

  He didn’t have a preference. As long as they were her hands and his backside.

  “Commander?”

  “Huh?”

  She tapped the signature block on the letter and he lowered the suspended pen to scribble his name.

  “I was reading,” he muttered.

  She’d pared down what had to be a week’s worth of paperwork to one neat pile that dwindled to nothing in a matter of minutes. He noticed mailing envelopes with s
ome and base routing envelopes with others.

  “This is a supply request. For my new chair,” she explained as he signed that form, too.

  “Of course,” he said, feeling magnanimous in even giving her a chair.

  “And these are worksheets for enlisted evals. They don’t need your signature until finished form. E-5s are due at the end of the month. I put them on top. Underneath is a typed schedule showing when the rest are due.”

  She pushed aside the pile when he was done and set two stacks of note cards in front of him. “These are invitations that require an RSVP. And these are the ones you’ve already missed. I sent your regrets and flowers to the hostesses. I paid with my credit card. I’m assuming you’ll reimburse me when the bill comes.”

  He removed the sucker from his mouth. “Of course,” he said, meeting her gaze. Her generosity surprised him, considering how demanding she could be when she wanted something. It made him feel stingy.

  Why should he begrudge her a damn chair? It was only government issued office furniture. It didn’t mean she was going to become a permanent fixture at SEAL training HQ.

  But the chair would be.

  He should request an impact study. From the moment she’d walked in the door things had changed. When she left things would never be the same.

  At least not for him.

  Tabitha looked away and Marc realized he’d been staring. Recovering, he stuck the Tootsie Pop back in his mouth and picked up a gilt-edged invitation from the pile that still required answers.

  “You should go,” she said. “It’s from the base Commanding Officer’s wife. This Saturday. Their residence. Black tie. The Captain made the cut. He’s on the short list for promotion to Admiral. There’ll be a lot of brass there to check him out. Admiral Gromley will be there. It’s good PR. And good for your career.”

  How did she know all that? It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her to go with him. But that would be totally inappropriate.

  No dancing. And no anything else.

  “Shall I let the CO’s wife know you’ll be there?”

  He nodded, committing himself in the process. Then he touched another invitation and she shook her head. They went through the rest of the stack that way.

  “I’ll send your regrets to the others. And don’t forget to take your formal dress uniform to the cleaners. I don’t do personal errands.”

  As if he couldn’t handle picking up his own uniforms. He’d been doing it for years. Just because his In box was a mess didn’t mean his life was.

  “Is that all?” he asked in his most dismissive tone.

  “Well,” she cleared her throat, “I’d like to leave early Friday to attend my brother’s graduation.”

  “Have you memorized those manuals?” Resentment underlined his words. He couldn’t help it. She was good at her job and he didn’t want her to be.

  Even if it made his a hell of a lot easier.

  Too bad she couldn’t help him out on his other projects. She had one of her own to worry about and all the extra work he could pile on her.

  She leveled a reproachful glare at him. “You gave me until Friday. But I did get far enough to know Miller Regs doesn’t cover hemlines. Or whims.”

  “I still gave you an order.’’ He waved the sucker. “I’ll think about graduation.”

  She heaved a sigh. “Can I be frank with you, Commander?”

  “No. But you can be Tabitha.”

  “Funny.”

  “Spill your guts,” he invited, chewing the chocolate center.

  Bracing her hands on his desk, she leaned forward. “If you think tucking me into an obscure little closet and piling a mountain of paperwork on me will make me forget why I’m really here you’re mistaken.”

  That’s exactly what he’d hoped.

  She straightened, crossing her arms. “While I’m happy to help, I’m doing it only to free up your time. So you’ll have no excuse not to spend it with me.”

  “Pretty speech, Lieutenant.” He tossed the sucker stick to the trash. “If you want to find out what SEALs are all about be here tomorrow at 0500. And not a minute later.”

  “All right,” she said, accepting his challenge. “Will that be all, Commander? I have tapes to review and manuals to memorize.”

  “For the record, I’m not impressed.”

  “Yes, you are. And you’re dying to know how I got through all that paperwork.” She smiled. “I sorted. And delegated. Your yeoman has a stack of typing on his desk this big.” She pinched an inch of air. “And a stack of filing this big.” She doubled her pinch.

  Delegating or not, she’d worked straight through lunch. On impulse he picked up the deli sack and handed it to her. “Turkey on whole wheat, mustard, lettuce and tomato. There’s cola or bottled water.” He moved to the small refrigerator to dig out her preference.

  Giving her the bottled water, his fingers barely brushed hers, but it was enough, and not enough. He wanted more.

  “Thanks. But you didn’t have to.” She gripped the bottle of water and offered one of her demure smiles that meant she was up to something. “Can I have a Tootsie Pop?”

  “No, you may not. Dismissed, Lieutenant!”

  Before I start licking your tootsies and work my way up from there.

  Inflating his cheeks, Marc listened to her high heels fading down the passageway. Someone had put her up to that. Probably told her never to ask and that he didn’t share. He expelled his breath in a huff, then grabbed another sucker.

  “Holy shit!” Perry's exclamation drew his attention to the open door. The yeoman stormed in waving a Post-it note. “The Lieutenant—’”

  “Posted pink sticky notes all over my office,” Hugh finished, pushing his way past Perry.

  “She left me a stack of typing,” Perry added to his complaint. “How am I supposed to get through all that by the end of the day?”

  A sharp rap sounded on his open door interrupting further tirades. A group of non-rates in dungaree work uniforms hesitated outside his office.

  “Excuse me, sirs,” a timid seaman found the nerve to speak up. “The Officer of the Day sent us over. You requested a work detail? Something about cleaning an office?”

  Marc hid his surprise. He hadn’t ordered a cleaning detail. But he could guess who had. “That would be down the hall on the right. Lieutenant Chapel. You can’t miss her.”

  “What’s with her?” Hugh demanded.

  “She left me a stack of filing this big.” Perry exaggerated, spreading his arms. At least Marc credited the yeoman with exaggeration and Tabitha with telling the truth.

  Wasn’t she something? Marc started laughing. Though he doubted Hugh and Perry found anything comical about the situation, he didn’t stop until his side ached and tears streamed from his eyes.

  “Get used to it, Preach. She’s in your chain of command now.”

  “What about mine?” Hugh demanded.

  “’Fraid so.”

  “I’m the Training Officer. She’s TDY. What’s her title?”

  Marc made one up. “Protocol. We’re all going to learn how to conduct ourselves like gentlemen.” He knew he, at least, needed to. And just as soon as he got a chance he’d unearth those workbooks on sexual harassment in the workplace and brush up on the rules.

  Hugh rolled his eyes.

  “She’s a D.C. paper pusher.” He should have realized that before. A pile of paper wasn’t going to scare her off. “Get used to it. Things will settle down in a few days.”

  His stomach grumbled, reminding him he’d given away his lunch and candy wasn’t going to fill him up. On Monday nights he had a regular commitment at the base Recreation Center that didn’t leave time for dinner. “Preach, if you’re flying, I’m buying.” He pulled out his wallet and handed over a twenty. “Burgers for three.”

  “Can I borrow your car?” Perry asked sheepishly.

  “Hell no!” No one drove his Viper.

  “Hey, just thought since you were in such a genero
us mood...” Perry shrugged. “It’s a little hard to carry drinks on my hog.”

  “Here.” Hugh fished out his keys. “It’s a rental, be careful. The dark blue Cutlass.” Hugh plopped down on the couch when the petty officer left. “Man, at least the women I know leave love notes, not training schedules.”

  “Your car still in the shop?” Marc asked, leaning back in his desk chair.

  “Yup. Another week at least. The garage is behind.”

  “Any particular reason you were hanging around the BOQ Friday night when you live off base?”

  “What’s with the third degree?” Hugh snapped. “I should be asking you the same question.”

  “I asked first.”

  “Watching your back.” Hugh stood and moved toward the door. “You can thank me later.”

  Chapter 8

  0359 Tuesday

  BACHELOR OFFICERS’ QUARTERS

  Coronado, CA

  A hand clamped over her mouth, holding back her scream while pushing her against the pillow. Through a sleep-clouded haze of interrupted dreams, Tabby stared at the shadowed image of a man dressed in black from hood to boots.

  He stood over her to the right of her bed. Her heart pounded, echoing the terror inside her head. What was going on?

  She struggled. But her efforts met with firm resistance.

  He put his finger to his obscured lips. “Shh.” His eyes sparkled in the moonlight. She recognized those eyes, blue in the daylight.

  But not morning-glory-blue.

  She couldn’t quite place them. But she bet they belonged to a SEAL.

  It only took a moment for Tabby to assess the danger. The unidentified man had her at a disadvantage. But her hands and legs were still free.

  A calm settled over her. She could handle this. She hit his wrist with the flat of her palm. With her other arm, she blocked him from grabbing her again and followed through with a blow to his rib cage.

  “Ugh!” he grunted, jumping back.

  She sprang to her feet in the middle of her bed. Breathing heavily, she held off the intruder with an aggressive stance.

  Shadows moved along the wall behind him, heading toward the window. One...two...three others. The arrogant Night Crawler blew her a kiss and followed the rest, leaving her confused.