Wet N Wild Navy SEALs

by Tawny Weber

  Chapter 4

  Mondays were rarely fun, but Trina had special reasons to dread this particular one. She’d tried to deck Perry Carlson, who was only the senior aide to a man who was as revered as James Smithson, the benefactor whose money created the Smithsonian Institution. Then she’d left the party with a man who was a potential source for an oral history and was friends with a potential future senator and for all she knew was buddies with her boss’s husband, who just so happened to be the US Attorney General.

  Life in DC wasn’t for the faint of heart. Or poorly connected.

  She was on the receiving end of more than a few curious stares as she entered the office, but she ignored them all. She’d told Cressida the details last night but didn’t plan to tell anyone else anything.

  Of course, the day didn’t get any easier when the bouquet of roses arrived.

  They worked on a closed military base, which had been the location of a terrifying mass-shooting event. Security was tight on a slow day, and flower delivery was low priority but required high security. She was called to the walk-in gate, where she had to show ID and explain a gift she hadn’t known was coming.

  The flowers, two dozen red roses, had been searched. Stems were broken. Buds crushed.

  It wasn’t pretty.

  But still, they smelled nice.

  The card said simply: I’m sorry. –Keith

  A second bouquet triggered the same rigmarole. But security was twice as freaked out, because the basket was a massive floral arrangement. From a different guy. Who was also apologizing. She had no idea what the bright summer flowers would have looked like before they searched the hard foam sponge that was supposed to hold the arrangement together, but they fared even worse than the roses.

  And security snickered when they asked why Perry Carlson was also apologizing to her. Only one of the marines even pretended the curiosity was part of the job.

  Fed up with the questions and leers, Trina snapped. “He’s apologizing because I took a swing at him at a party. And he had it coming.”

  The marines laughed as if her claim was the most absurd thing they’d ever heard, and she took her flowers and returned to her office.

  Then security called to tell her flowers from Derrick Vole had arrived. On the card, he apologized for not realizing she was Dr. Trina Sorensen, and he hoped she’d still be willing to help him arrange a photo op for his boss. He included his phone number and begged her to call him.

  That was when Trina’s headache began.

  “I’m having the crappiest day,” she said as she flopped into a seat at a table with Mara, Cressida, and Erica in the cafeteria at noon. “Please, someone, show me a kitten video.”

  “I don’t have kittens, but the beast file cabinet will be moved out of your cubicle this afternoon,” Cressida said. “Mara got approval to let me catalogue it.”

  Trina smiled faintly. This was good news. The armored file cabinet took up far too much space, and she’d been saddled with it since she’d started working for the Navy two years ago. The cabinet had been moved from cubicle to cubicle since as long as anyone at NHHC could remember—and some of the historians had been here since the Carter administration—always housed with the newest historian in the group. As far as anyone knew, it had been classified as top secret sometime after World War II and promptly forgotten. It was anyone’s guess when the keys were lost or what was in it.

  Mara had declared one of her goals while interim director would be to see the file cabinet opened and the contents catalogued, and it was on the list of tasks for Cressida to complete during her internship. But good old Walt Fryer had taken issue, insisting Cressida didn’t have the proper clearance. Mara had to appeal to the top brass, who concurred with her opinion that the “intelligence” the file cabinet contained was likely to be blueprints of German U-boats or something else laughably out-of-date.

  “Maintenance is going to drill out the locks today,” Mara said.

  “We should start an office pool over what’s inside,” Erica said. “I’m hoping for papers from Area 51.”

  Mara scoffed. “No way. The air force would never let the Navy have anything that useful.” She fixed Trina with a knowing smile. “So, Trina, much as I love the flowers you gave me, I think you should know I’m married.”

  Erica snorted. “Yeah, so what is the deal with the SEAL?”

  Trina rubbed her temples. “You didn’t just say that.”

  Erica shrugged. “Unintentional rhyme. But I still want details.”

  “There’s no deal. No details.”

  “For what it’s worth, Alec says great things about Keith,” Mara ventured. “He really respects the guy.”

  “Alec can go to hell. His friend’s an ass.”

  Erica sat back in her chair and studied Trina. “I’m thinking Treen didn’t get laid last night. What do you think, Mara?”

  “If she did, it was awful,” Mara replied. “So which is it? Did you drink too much to enjoy the show, or did he have trouble?” She grinned. “That could explain the roses.”

  Trina nearly spewed her drink. She sort of felt like she should defend Keith’s manhood, but decided against it. “He pissed me off before things could get really interesting, and I left.”

  “Shit. No wonder you’re so pissy today,” Erica said. “Sweetie, next time, use him for sex, then leave. Because you are no fun today.”

  She winked at Trina, who couldn’t help it and laughed. Then Trina grimaced. “There won’t be a next time.” She stirred her bowl of stew and wondered why she’d ordered such a heavy meal when she wasn’t hungry. “He lied to me.”

  Her friends all bristled in outraged solidarity, making her feel a tad guilty because she supposed he hadn’t lied so much as he’d played her.

  But that still pissed her off. She should have known. She should have questioned him immediately. But she’d glommed on to the excuse he gave her to leave the party and ended up feeling like a fool.

  “Well, Senior Chief Hatcher is a vast improvement over Perry Carlson,” Erica said, filling the silent void. “Please tell me you are done with that infatuation.”

  Trina felt her cheeks flush. She hated being obvious. “Perry Carlson is a vapid pig. He believes I was a token hire. Because, you know, they just give away PhDs in military history to women. As if I didn’t have to work twice as hard to get into the program, let alone finish it. And the Navy, they are so known for their eagerness to hire a woman to work in one of their many, many penis-only departments.”

  “You need a night out,” Mara said. “Dancing, or just drinking?”

  “Drinking,” Trina answered. “Lots and lots of drinking.” She glared at the three women: one married, one engaged, the last with a boyfriend who was crazy about her. “And no men.”

  Chapter 5

  Keith sat in his Cruiser in a parking lot outside Trina’s office building and tapped the steering wheel as he debated his next step. He needed to do something big. A grand gesture that would win him another shot with her. He had a feeling the roses hadn’t cut it.

  Since he couldn’t give her the one thing she wanted, what could he do?

  The thing he wasn’t ready to do was give up and let her go, although that should top his list of options. Something about her had gotten under his skin. Maybe it was the way she stood her ground or the way she called him on his bullshit. All he knew was that if he gave up now, he might be stuck with a lifetime of wondering what if. He already had one regret to haunt him. He didn’t need to add another one.

  His meeting with Rav had been long, informative, and opened a door Keith had never thought would be open to him. If Rav were elected to the Senate, he’d have to hand off the running of Raptor—stepping out completely to avoid Senate ethics violations, because Raptor held government contracts. He’d been searching internally for a replacement, but problems with the Alaska compound meant the best candidate for taking over was needed there for the foreseeable future.

  Rav had decided to
recruit elsewhere, and he wanted Keith to take over as CEO.

  The thought was…mind-blowing.

  He was no dummy, but he’d attended all of one week of college. Hell, a big part of him felt Trina, with her PhD, was way out of his league. He knew the Navy. He knew strategy, combat, his M110 rifle, his Sig Sauer P226, and he knew what he’d read over the years to make up for his lack of schooling. He could handle the military training aspect of Raptor, no problem, but budgets, financial reports, all the crap that came with being a CEO?

  He’d be in over his head. Big-time.

  The job was a natural fit for Rav. He grew up with money and had an undergrad degree from freaking Harvard. Harvard Law had accepted Rav, but he’d shocked his family by choosing the army instead.

  Rav had shown Keith balance sheets, real numbers. It was astonishing how much money Raptor was worth—or rather, would be worth, when the Alaska compound resumed operation—and he was ready to hand over the company to Keith.

  Keith wasn’t like Rav. His only economics class had been in high school, and while he’d survived calculus, he’d only taken the class so he could spend time with the cute, shy girl who’d tutored after school in the cafeteria.

  He’d always had a thing for brainy chicks.

  But back in his office, Rav had shot down his objections. “You’ll have a staff of people who do understand the financials to break it down for you. You’ll be up to speed in no time.”

  Then Rav had leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and said, “Here’s the deal, Keith—and the reason I want you more than some MBA from an Ivy League school—I don’t care if Raptor makes money, I just need it to not lose money. My goal for the business is to give military personnel extensive combat training that could save their lives. After some soul-searching, I’ve decided to close the nonlethal weapons development lab. Given the former CEO’s proclivities, I couldn’t trust the developers or the field test results. I decided to keep the private security division open, because it keeps my operatives fit mentally and physically, and their experiences in that sector can be applied at the training ground. I will never take Raptor public, because then I’m beholden to shareholders and profit, and I couldn’t make these types of decisions.

  “But here’s my problem, if I’m elected, I can’t play any role in the company at all. I need to have blind trust that the person running the company will share my philosophy, and hope for the best. Blind trust isn’t easy for me, but I know you. And I know you can relate to what I’m trying to do here. And I know I can trust you. Think about my offer. No need to answer today or this week, but I’d like Curt to get started on the vetting process, if you’ll consent to that scrutiny.”

  Keith had agreed to the intensive background check—well aware that this would be the equivalent of a CIA screening and wouldn’t be surprised to find a proctologist on his doorstep when he got home—and promised to think about the job. Now he sat outside Trina’s office, feeling a little elated, and, if he were being honest, a lot scared. Rav’s offer was more than he’d ever dreamed. An opportunity he’d never expected.

  That this career path would make his dad pop a vessel was jelly inside a powdered-sugar donut.

  Deep down, he wanted to share his excitement—and even his fear—with someone, and the insane notion of that person being Trina wouldn’t let him go.

  He’d been on dates since leaving Norfolk and moving to DC when he’d left the Navy, but no one had triggered more than passing interest until Trina. But then, none of the others had brazenly invaded his home and didn’t flinch in the face of his overbearing, dickish manner. And what kind of woman kept her cool when a guy made a rude comment about her body, but then took a swing because the guy had called Keith a pussy?

  And shit, while he was at it, what about that kiss? Christ. Sweet, hot. She’d filled his arms perfectly and had felt like heaven as she straddled him. Her tight dress had ridden up and revealed she wore a thong underneath, and he’d been in the process of sliding his hands down her back to cup that sexy ass when she’d remembered their deal and halted forward progress.

  He’d barely been able to sleep last night after the way she’d ground against him, and damn but now he was sporting wood. No way could he face her in this state. He ran through the unsexiest things he could think of, forcing all thoughts of Trina from his mind.

  Decent again, he climbed from his rig. He entered her building and made his way toward her cubicle. He found her hunched over a stack of papers, a pen stuck in her bun and a red pen in her hand. She looked freaking adorable, full-on sexy librarian with her slanted glasses high on her nose, a demure pale top, and dark slacks.

  Intent on her work, she hadn’t noticed him, and he took the moment to examine her workspace. Books, papers, and notebooks were stacked three feet high from the floor. Her desk was littered with papers, pens, sticky notepads, books, and assorted debris.

  This was his first glimpse into Trina’s world, and he grinned to realize the woman was a slob. Huh. He’d never really given it much thought but supposed he’d always assumed brainy-librarian types were neat freaks.

  He didn’t see the roses, but there really wasn’t a place for her to put them. He cleared his throat softly in the quiet room, and she glanced up.

  Her eyes widened, then narrowed with anger. No telltale flash of heat or other hopeful sign. Just anger. Damn. He’d harbored a faint hope this would be easy. No such luck.

  She dropped her pen into an open book and snapped it closed. “What are you doing here?”

  “That’ll crack the spine,” he couldn’t help but say. Yeah, so maybe he was a bit OCD. He shook his head. “I’m here to see you.”

  “How did you get on base?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve served in the Navy my entire adult life. I have ID.”

  She stood. “Follow me.” She led him down the narrow aisle between cubicles. At the end of the corridor, she turned. She glanced through a window into one room, then shook her head and kept walking. Keith saw the room was occupied as he passed the window.

  Trina paused in front of an open office door, then leaned in. “Mara? Can I use your office for a second? The conference room is busy.” She glared over her shoulder at Keith, then stepped into the room, pulling him inside so Mara could see him.

  Mara startled, and Keith was fairly certain she suppressed a smile. “Sure,” she said and left the room, closing the door behind her.

  The moment they were alone, Trina whirled to face him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? I work here. Unless you’re here to talk about something related to my work, you are not welcome.”

  “I considered going to your apartment, but I followed you home last night to make sure you were safe, not to find out where you live, and figured if I used the information in that way, you might think I’m creepy.” He frowned, seeing two dozen rather beat-up red roses on a credenza. “Are those the roses I sent?”

  She nodded.

  “What happened to them?”

  “Security searched them.”

  He couldn’t help it and shook his head and laughed. “Shit. I can’t even send you a decent apology.”

  “The roses came out better than the flower arrangement from Perry.”

  Keith stiffened. “He sent you flowers?” His hand curled into a fist. What if she forgave that bastard?

  “They’re in Erica’s office. Cressida has flowers from one of Alec’s employees in the conservation lab.”

  He frowned. Another guy? He’d have to talk to Alec about that to see if it was something worth worrying about. He took a step toward her. “I’m sorry, Trina. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have told you that you could ask about Somalia. I was deceptive, and I knew it. I didn’t want you to go back to the party—and not for my sake, but for yours. Honestly, I figured staying would be awkward for you.” He sighed. “Is there anything I can do to convince you to give me another chance?”

  She was silent for a moment, giving him hope, then said, “I don’t t
hink so.”

  He ignored her response and continued his pitch. “Dinner? I—” He hesitated, then decided what the hell. May as well go full-on pathetic. “I received a job offer today, and I’m in the mood to celebrate. Maybe it’s crazy, but for some reason I want to celebrate with you.”

  She held his gaze, and he could see he’d gotten to her. Her hazel eyes clouded and her lips tightened as she considered his words. Finally, she said, “Congratulations on the job offer, I hope it’s a good fit and wish you the best of luck.” She walked past him toward the closed door.

  “Trina—”

  She stopped, her back ramrod straight. He stepped up behind her, took in her warm, sultry scent.

  “Thanks for the roses,” she said, then opened the door and stepped into the hall.

  Trina was shaking by the time she reached her cubicle. What had she done? Was she a fool for walking away from him, or had she just dodged a bullet?

  All she knew was she felt nauseated. Like she’d made a huge mistake. But every time she thought about how he’d played her, she felt like such a fool. It was hard to let go of that. Hard to believe he wasn’t secretly laughing at her. That he wouldn’t mislead her again.

  And yet, dammit, he stirred something in her. Kissing him had been insanely amazing. She’d been wound so tight after that, she couldn’t sleep. And the way he’d followed her home, to ensure she was safe had been…wonderful, really.

  She picked up the report she’d been working on, but there was no way she could focus on edits right now. She reached over to place it on the blasted file cabinet and was so distracted it took her a moment to realize the cabinet wasn’t there. Finally.