Wet N Wild Navy SEALs

by Tawny Weber

  “I didn’t like the answers.”

  “You are going to help me.”

  He couldn’t deny it. “Tell me more about your sister.”

  “I have a picture.” She reached down and pulled her cell phone from her purse. Scrolling across the screen, she stopped on a photo and handed the phone to him.

  He saw the resemblance immediately. And the difference. Nicole Whitlock was a beauty. Blond and green-eyed, with a come-hither smile made even more seductive by the startling innocence in her eyes, she had the kind of face that started wars, made millions, or simply drove every male within range crazy.

  “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

  Surprised, he looked up at the woman sitting across from him. He had the strongest urge to lie, but somehow he knew she wouldn’t believe him if he did. He had a feeling Jessie knew only too well the differences between her sister and herself. “Yes, she’s lovely.”

  He handed the phone back to her, and she dropped it into her purse. “We had different mothers. Mine died when I was five, and my father married Nicole’s mother a couple of years later.” She shifted her gaze to examine the glass in her hands, gently rolling it between her palms. “I was ten when Nicole was born.”

  Cooper hesitated. She didn’t need any more questions tonight, but a woman’s life was in jeopardy, and the more information he had, the better his chances were of finding her alive. “What happened to your father and stepmother, Jessie?”

  “They died in a boat accident years later.” Sighing, she set the snifter down on the end table and, leaning back against the couch, closed her eyes. “Nicole was nine and the authorities wanted to put her into foster care. Jacob stopped them. He and Father had been friends since they were boys. So Jacob pulled some strings or called in favors.” She shrugged. “I don’t know, really, what he did. But he ended up with custody of Nicole and moved us both into his home. Up until then, we’d had a normal sibling relationship. Then suddenly, at nineteen, I became Nicole’s mother.”

  Jessie paused for a few minutes before adding, “She’s never been very strong. Someone has always looked after her, taken care of things for her. At first it was our parents. Then me. Now it’s Robert.” She lifted her head and looked at Cooper, tears brimming in her eyes. “If she’s alive, you have to find her. She doesn’t have the faintest idea how to make it on her own.”

  He met her gaze, and the last of his resistance slipped away. Something about her tugged at him, awakening a part of his soul he’d put to rest years ago. She needed his help, and he couldn’t deny her—no matter what it did to him in the end. Only his firm grip on the arms of his chair kept him from going to her even now, from closing the small space between them and pulling her into his arms. To comfort her, he assured himself. Only to comfort her.

  She was the first to turn away. Rising a little too quickly from the couch, she stumbled, and he stood to steady her. Almost instantly, she backed away, pulling her arm from his grasp.

  “Is there somewhere I can get cleaned up?” she asked.

  For a moment, he couldn’t answer but watched as she rubbed absently at the spot where he’d touched her. Finally, he dragged his gaze back to her face. “Take the master bedroom for the night. You’ll find everything you need, including a robe you can use.”

  She nodded and turned away, disappearing into the other room. When she was gone, Cooper retrieved his brandy and swallowed the last of it.

  His touch had shaken her.

  Almost as much as it had shaken him. And though he knew better than to think it meant anything, he also knew he would never convince her of that. He’d been through this before. He knew how a woman could temporarily feel something for a man who helped her. How she might even think she was in love. He called it the knight-in-shining-armor syndrome. The only problem was it never lasted. And when it was all over, he would be the one left behind.

  Jessie stared at the face in the mirror, hardly recognizing herself. She bore little resemblance to the woman who’d left her hotel room early this morning. Her too-wide eyes, her pale skin, and the grim tension around her mouth made her look like a refugee from a war zone. And that’s exactly how she felt.

  She turned her back on the image and peeled off her clothes. Running the water as hot as she could possibly stand, she stepped into the shower. For several long minutes, she stood with her head thrown back, letting the steaming liquid slide over her body.

  What was she doing here?

  She was in an ocean-side condominium with a man she’d met a little over twelve hours ago. An inherently dangerous man, she reminded herself. A man who sent shivers of heat through her with the slightest touch. A man whose mere presence made her forget her priorities. She should walk—no, run—as far and as fast as she could from Sam Cooper.

  But she needed him.

  He could find Nicole. And wasn’t that why she’d come to him to begin with? To find her sister? Somehow she needed to keep that thought foremost in her mind. Nicole. She was here for Nicole. And whatever crazy feelings Sam Cooper aroused in her, Jessie would just have to ignore them. She could do it, too. As long as he didn’t touch her again.

  She stayed in the shower until the water ran cold, then towel-dried her hair and wrapped herself in a large terry-cloth robe she found in the closet. With one final glance in the mirror, she decided she looked better. And with her priorities once again straight in her head, she felt better as well.

  Back in the living room, she was drawn by the smell of cooking food. Evidently, Cooper had all sorts of hidden skills. Then she walked into the kitchen, and he turned and smiled, reminding her of the beach boy she’d caught a brief glimpse of at the waterside bar earlier today. And her resolve to remain unaffected by him nearly crumbled once again.

  “Just in time,” he said as he scooped globs of what looked like scrambled egg onto two plates. “Have a seat.”

  “It smells wonderful.” She hadn’t even thought about food since the quick burger she’d grabbed at lunchtime. Suddenly she was very hungry.

  “I figured you could use something to eat.” He set a plate in front of her on the table as Jessie took in the carefully set table, the placemats, the flatware arranged just so. “It’s supposed to be an omelet,” he said. “But I never could get the hang of folding them. Coffee?”

  “Thank you,” she answered, though she barely managed to get the words past the lump in her throat.

  He didn’t seem to notice. “I’m afraid the food supply is rather limited. Eggs are the only perishable item I keep on hand.” He retrieved the coffeepot, filled a mug, and set it in front of her. “I’ll stock up tomorrow.”

  Jessie sat, unable to touch her food as Cooper took a seat across the table from her. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done something so nice for her, the last time someone had seen to her needs or fixed her a meal. It was the final straw in a day filled with too many burdens. The tears she’d been holding back for hours slipped out.

  Before she could stop them or him, Cooper was beside her, pulling her up and into his arms. Strong, protective arms that cradled her against a chest made to hold a woman. And it only made things worse. Her sobs came faster and harder, wetting his shirt, burning her eyes and cheeks. And he just stood there, holding her, murmuring nonsensical words she couldn’t hear above her own misery.

  It all came out—her fear for Nicole, her embarrassment at being arrested, her total confusion over being followed, then hidden away in an unfamiliar place by a disturbing man. It all came out while she was held gently in the strongest arms she’d ever known.

  When her tears finally subsided, he lowered his head and covered her lips with his. She melted into his kiss, his soft, gentle, reassuring kiss. And she knew she was lost.

  Robert Whitlock hated to be kept waiting.

  By anybody. And especially by a man who called himself “Colonel,” though he had no affiliation to any military organization Robert knew of. However, stupidity had never been one of his fail
ings. So he kept his annoyance to himself as the Colonel strode into the room and sat behind his sleek, utilitarian desk.

  “You haven’t found her,” he stated without preamble.

  Robert shifted uncomfortably under the other man’s scrutiny. “No, Colonel. Not yet.”

  “You know what this means.”

  “I just need a little more time.” Robert scooted forward in his chair. “I have my people working on it.”

  “I hear her sister is in town.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And she’s hooked up with Sam Cooper.”

  “Yes, but he’s nothing.” Robert tugged at his collar. Did the man have to keep it so damn hot in here? “A local P.I. My people can handle him.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” The Colonel pulled a plain manila folder from his desk drawer, turned it, and shoved it across the surface at Robert. Then he leaned back, rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and folded his hands against his hard, flat stomach. “Go ahead.” He nodded toward the file. “Open it.”

  Robert hesitated, then picked up the file and opened it. Inside was a classified government personnel file for Samuel G. Cooper.

  “He joined the Navy SEALs at nineteen,” the Colonel said, as if Robert couldn’t read the record for himself. “Young for a SEAL, but there have been younger. After six years of exemplary service, he left the Navy and was immediately recruited by the FBI. Or maybe”—he shrugged—“it was the other way around.”

  “So he was a Fed?”

  “I’d be more concerned about his SEAL training if I were you, but the combination . . .” The Colonel came forward to lean his forearms on the desk. “He earned quite a reputation for himself within the Bureau while working on a special task force. Locating missing children.”

  Robert cursed silently. All he needed was an ex-federal agent checking up on things.

  “I can’t get much information on why he left the Bureau,” the Colonel continued. “It seems he has friends in high places who have sealed his file. But the word is he left because of a woman.”

  Robert couldn’t believe it. When had things become so complicated? He was a respected judge, for God’s sake. A wealthy man. Yet his whole world was unraveling around him. All because that stupid bitch had come nosing around looking for Nicole.

  “What do you want me to do?” he asked.

  “Recruit him.” The Colonel smiled, a cold, deadly smile. “Cooper went private when he left the Bureau. He still locates misplaced persons. Seems he has a knack for it. Now he does it for whoever has the money to pay his rather exorbitant fees.”

  “But then why Jessie? She’s got nothing.”

  The Colonel shrugged. “Maybe he, too, has a weakness for a pretty face.”

  Robert flushed, but before he could defend himself, the Colonel continued. “Cooper’s good at what he does.”

  “We’ll take care of him,” Robert blurted out.

  “Don’t be a fool. We’ll use him. He’ll find your errant wife for us.”

  “And if he does?”

  “When he does,”—the Colonel settled back in his chair once again and grinned, sending a surge of revulsion through Robert’s system— “my men will take care of all three of them. Your wife, her sister, and Sam Cooper.”

  Chapter 4

  Kissing Jessie Burkett wasn’t the smartest move Cooper had ever made. Yet he couldn’t seem to separate his mouth from hers. The softness of her lips held him, drawing him in with a sweetness and need that stirred his protective instincts. He didn’t want this, didn’t need this. But she was more temptation than any man could resist.

  She sighed and settled closer against him, and he knew he had to end this now or give up more of himself than he dared. He broke the kiss but didn’t release her. Not yet. Even though having her slim body next to his was almost as tempting as her lips.

  “This isn’t a good idea,” he said.

  “I know.” Her words came out in a breathy whisper, rough and smooth all at once, like the feel of work-toughened hands on silk. Then she looked up at him, her big, dark eyes telling him more than he wanted to know about how the kiss had affected her.

  He took a quick backward step away from her. From those eyes. From that voice. “Look,” he said, more harshly than he’d intended. “Don’t get the wrong idea.”

  Her eyes cleared, and she lifted her chin. “And what idea is that?”

  “That this means anything.” No, that didn’t come out right. “I was just . . .” What the hell had he meant?

  She crossed her arms and met his gaze head-on. “You were just what?”

  “You were crying.” Damn. He planted his hands on his hips and glanced around the small kitchen before turning back to her. “You looked like you needed . . .”

  “Someone to comfort me?” She sounded calm enough, but her eyes sent their own signal. If looks could kill, he’d be missing a limb or two by now.

  “Yeah.” He was sinking. Fast. “You’ve had a rough day, and I figured you needed a shoulder to cry on.”

  “And someone to kiss me and make it all better?”

  “Look,” he said, holding up his hands defensively, “let’s just forget this ever happened.”

  She took a step toward him. “You want to know what I think?”

  He didn’t. But he figured she planned to tell him anyway.

  “I think—” she moved in closer “—that you have one hell of an ego. It was nothing. A kiss. And hardly worth writing home about.” With that, she spun on her heel and strode out of the kitchen.

  “What about your food?” he called after her.

  “You eat it. After all, you’re eating for two. You and your ego.” The bedroom door slammed behind her, and he heard the distinctive click of the lock sliding into place.

  After a moment, he walked over to the table and sank into a chair. He picked up a fork and stared at the eggs he no longer wanted. All right, so he’d made a colossal ass of himself. It hadn’t been the first time and probably wouldn’t be the last—at least not where a woman was concerned.

  He’d known Jessie was trouble the first time he’d seen her. He should have listened to his instincts and stayed as far away from her as possible. After all, she’d been right. It was just a kiss.

  Then how come he felt like he’d just stepped off a cliff without a parachute?

  The smell of coffee woke her.

  She lay there for a moment, disoriented, trying to remember where she was. Then the previous day’s events returned in full force. All of it. Her flight from Chicago. Her unsuccessful attempts to hire someone to help find Nicole. Breaking into the house. Her arrest. Robert Whitlock and his infuriating smile. The white Camaro following them through the streets of Fort Lauderdale. Sam Cooper. And his kiss.

  She barely suppressed a moan, embarrassment washing her face in heat. How could she have been so stupid as to let him kiss her? She’d come here seeking help to find her sister, not to fall in lust with a sexy private investigator with an ego the size of the Caribbean. Especially when he’d made it clear that he thought of her as a love-starved old maid who’d thrown herself into the arms of the first man who offered her a little kindness. Rolling onto her stomach, she pulled the pillow over her head. She didn’t know how she was going to face him this morning.

  Then she tossed the pillow aside.

  This was crazy. It was just a stupid kiss and she wasn’t going to let it distract her from her purpose. She was in Florida to find her sister, and the hell with Sam Cooper, his kiss, and his arrogance.

  Climbing out of bed, she pulled on her jeans.

  So she’d let Cooper kiss her last night. What was the big deal? She hadn’t been herself. She’d been exhausted and frightened for her sister. The important thing was finding Nicole. As he’d suggested, she would just forget about the kiss and remember her reason for being here.

  As she slipped on her long-sleeved blouse, she wished she had something cooler to wear. She’d almost suffocated in these
clothes yesterday. It hadn’t occurred to her when she left Chicago that it would be hot here this early in the year. She’d brought one pair of shorts, but they were back at her hotel.

  By the time she finished dressing, she’d convinced herself that facing Cooper wouldn’t be a problem. That was until she saw him.

  Lounging against the kitchen counter with his hair still damp from a shower, wearing light cotton slacks and a shirt he hadn’t bothered to button, he looked entirely too sexy for comfort. For a moment, she forgot her earlier resolve as she remembered how good it had felt to be held against that chest.

  “Morning,” he said, his voice bringing her back to her senses.

  Nicole, Jessie reminded herself. Remember Nicole. “Is there more of that?” she asked, nodding toward his coffee.

  “Help yourself.” He shifted sideways to reveal a full pot behind him. “Cups are in the cabinet.”

  He remained where he was, close, too close, watching her as she got a cup and walked over to the coffeepot. He smelled of soap and aftershave, and she had to concentrate on keeping her hands steady and her thoughts on the coffee.

  “Have you been up long?” she asked, trying for casual conversation. Safe conversation.

  “A couple of hours.”

  “Trouble sleeping?” She glanced at him and realized her mistake. He would think she was referring to the kiss. His eyes reflected his amusement. “I mean . . .” She hesitated, backpedaling as fast as she could.

  “I’m an early riser. And I had a few calls to make.”

  A morning person. Great! She retreated to the small kitchen table, clutching her cup of coffee with both hands. She took her first sip and closed her eyes for a moment to fully savor it. Caffeine. There really was nothing quite like it. And she would need it to deal with this man.

  “Want something to eat?” he asked. “You must be hungry.”

  She was, but wouldn’t have admitted it to him for the world. Not after she’d refused to eat last night. “Just coffee, thanks.”

  He turned to refill his own cup and then joined her at the table. She took another fortifying swallow and asked, “So, where do we start looking for Nicole?”