SEALs of Summer: Military Romance Superbundle - Navy SEAL Style

by Sharon Hamilton

  “I have to go,” he said.

  While his father worked his way through the goodbye spiel, Tye watched Katie extricate herself from the car. His eyes went straight to her shoes and he could feel himself smiling. Kade hadn’t mentioned the thing she had for ridiculously feminine shoes. Maybe it was a new thing and the other man hadn’t known.

  He liked that even better, pretending he had a piece of Katie that had been off-limits to Kade.

  *

  “You’re starting with an easy one.” Hands on her hips, Katie pouted at him. Deliberately. He recognized the look. She’d play him for all she was worth and then she’d reel him in. The catch would be sweet, but he’d be dancing to her tune. Had it worked on Kade?

  “I told you before, no machine guns.” He tapped the end of her nose. “It’s Segway or nothing today.”

  He’d borrowed the Segway from a local police unit where a former SEAL team member was working and the x2 looked pretty bad-ass with oversized treaded tires and plenty of black. There was also an add-on bumper, so no worries if she dumped the Patroller.

  Joey, however, looked like he might not let go of the fender frame. He’d volunteered to help Tye unload the Patroller from the back of Tye’s pickup and Tye was fairly certain it was lust on first sight on Joey’s part.

  “That’s a sweet ride. Are you keeping it all summer?” Yeah. That was naked longing in the other jumper’s voice.

  “Long enough,” he said. “You can ride it later.”

  The get lost was plenty clear in his voice. Katie got the first ride, no matter how many covetous looks the other smoke jumpers tossed her way. He’d share his toys later. Joey finally ambled off with one last lustful look at the Segway and Katie watched him go.

  “He could have taken it out for a spin.”

  “Ladies first.”

  She shot him a grin. “Joey would tell you I’m no lady.”

  He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t answering that. “So, sharks, huh?” he deflected.

  Her smile lit him up inside and made him want to do whatever it took to earn a repeat. Huh. He ran through a few quick memories, but he couldn’t remember ever feeling like that before. He’d earned winning times on a course. Medals. And kill counts. Smiles, however, were foreign territory.

  She ran a finger down the handlebar. “I like fish. I love the ocean.”

  Uninvited, his imagination immediately transplanted her into the middle of the Indian Ocean. Surrounded by fifteen-foot sharks. He didn’t think that was what she had in mind. Of course, his next mental image—of her in a shark cage with the toothy bastards swimming around her and knocking into the bars—wasn’t much better. Cage diving was safer than what the SEALs got up to, but it was also no afternoon snorkel with stingrays. Fortunately, there were plenty of other items on Kade’s bucket list.

  And ecoparks. He was fairly certain there was at least one ecopark in Mexico where you wadded into a pen up to your knees and, boom, there were the sharks. That might be safe enough, plus he’d get to see her in a bikini.

  “Swimming with sharks is pretty hard to do when you’re landlocked.”

  “I’m up for a field trip.”

  “Not today,” he said, because he wasn’t. He had commitments to the jump team and he wasn’t ready to leave Strong anyhow. Being in Strong felt right, the place strangely peaceful, with a side of smoking hot. Both literally and figuratively, he thought, running his gaze over Katie.

  “Do I pass inspection?”

  And…there was another land mine and a question with no right answer. Her white sundress was going to drive him crazy long before they finished the ride. The dress was made out of some kind of floaty fabric with thin ribbons crisscrossing her shoulders. Little white buttons marched down the front, making him wonder if they were decorative—or functional. Flicking them open one by one would be the best kind of Christmas present.

  The shoes, however, were a different kind of problem.

  She stuck out a foot for said inspection, presenting a red leather boot with appliqués of white moons and yellow stars. More buttons marched up the side. Apparently, Katie had a thing for buttons. Unfortunately, the sexy heel was only part of the problem. The boots also stopped two inches south of her knees. Her dress started three north of her knees. He wanted to wrap his hands around her bare legs and explore.

  “You can’t ride in those boots,” he decided. “You’ll fall off.”

  She eyed the Segway’s platform. “I’ve been standing for years, Tye. I’m not going to fall off.”

  While she stared at the Segway, he stared at her legs. Falling off was the least of his worries. She was Kade’s fiancée, for Christ’s sake. He had no business looking at her and imagining those red boots wrapped around his waist, the heels digging into the small of his back as he took her on a very different kind of ride. The problem was, he couldn’t seem to turn off the fantasies where Katie was concerned.

  “Show me how to ride this thing,” she ordered and parts of him—southern, unruly parts—wanted to do just that.

  “Don’t you own a pair of sneakers?”

  She turned her head and looked at him. Laughter crinkled the corner of her eyes. “Don’t you own anything besides those steel-toes?”

  “What’s wrong with my boots?”

  “You own just one pair of shoes. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  He had a pair of hiking boots. And he was fairly certain he also had a pair of sneakers. Somewhere.

  “Two,” he said. “I own two pairs of shoes. Possibly three, but I’d need to confirm the whereabouts of the third.”

  She stepped closer, the frothy material of her skirt brushing his thighs. “That’s seriously sub-standard.”

  “What do I need more for?” He narrowed his eyes. “How many pairs do you have?”

  And why had he noticed her shoes anyhow? Because they demanded attention, he decided virtuously.

  She waved a hand. “I honestly have no idea.”

  “Guess.”

  She chewed on her lower lip, clearly considering a resounding no.

  “Or I’m not letting you on the Segway,” he said. “Joey can have the first ride after all.”

  “All of my shoes?” she asked. “Or just the ones I made?”

  “You make your own shoes?” Maybe that explained the collection.

  “I made these.” She wiggled her foot at him and her skirt spilled back higher. Jesus. Both the shoes and the legs were gorgeous.

  “I picked mine up from the PX.” He shrugged, playing it casual. “They get the job done.”

  From the pained look on her face, shoes weren’t a function in her world. Negative. They were a calling along the lines of a religious vocation. He made a mental note not to damage any of her footwear.

  “I’ve always had a thing for shoes.” She shrugged. “From the moment I got my first Barbie and realized you could buy cards and cards of these little plastic pumps. Barbie had shoes for every outfit. Learning how to make them was a better way to feed the addiction.”

  “I thought Barbie was a feminist nightmare.”

  “She was fun, although the shoes were a killer. I’d pop them on my fingers and walk them around.”

  O-kay. And he’d been making weapons out of anything he could get his hands on when he was that age.

  “Do I get to ride?”

  “Yeah,” he said, giving in because he was being an ornery bastard and he knew it. It wasn’t her fault—much—that her shoes redefined come fuck me shoes. His problem. Not hers.

  “But let’s review the safety protocols and how-tos, okay?”

  “Maraveilleux,” she said and he figured swimming with the sharks was safe because, damn, her French accent needed work. Lots and lots of work. She wasn’t checking learn French off Kade’s bucket list any time soon.

  “Shift your weight forward to go straight; lean backward to go backwards; squeeze the handle left or right. It’s pretty basic.”

  “Got it.” She hopped onto the plat
form, clearly itching to get started.

  Yeah. Time to rain on her parade somehow. He stepped up behind her, putting his arms around her and covering her hands on the grip.

  “Scoot forward,” he demanded, pressing against her back. And her legs and her ass… There were advantages to sharing a Segway built for one.

  “I thought I got to drive,” she groused.

  “Not this time,” he said, although he’d seen her Kia and the answer was really not a chance in hell. He had to return this thing in one piece.

  *

  She should get to drive. After all, it was her bucket list—or, rather, Kade’s. And Kade was her sort-of fiancé. They slowly moved down the runway, the Segway rolling smoothly over the asphalt as Tye drove like a little old grandma.

  “Some speed would be good.”

  He didn’t take his eyes off the runway. “You want to go faster?”

  “There’s no faster about it,” she grumbled. “We’d have to actually be going fast first.”

  He chuckled. “You’ve got a thing for speed, don’t you?”

  No. She just didn’t have a thing for slow. Life had a habit of passing by unless she reached out and grabbed it with both hands. She’d learned that the hard way. She eyed the speed setting.

  “This is turtle mode.”

  “Uh-huh,” he agreed. “Enjoy the scenery.”

  The problem was, this scenery was all too familiar. They’d started close to the Donovans’ big metal hangar and now they were putting down the runway, past a DC-13 and a chopper. She’d seen these planes before. She’d seen this tarmac. Riding a Segway was supposed to be exciting. Different. Something more than this slow, sedate glide. When they hit the halfway mark on the runway, she wiggled herself into position by his side. She liked doing this better with him. Otherwise, it felt too much like he was driving.

  Which he was.

  Darn alpha male.

  She leaned back against Tye, feeling the tension in his hard body. Since she was apparently just along for the glide at the moment, she looked up at his face. And… merde. He had his eyes focused on the horizon, a SEAL on a mission. This was supposed to be fun. Kade had always had plenty of fun and lots of laughs. There wasn’t a bar where the man wasn’t welcome and no one he couldn’t win over. Tye looked like he was planning on storming an insurgent stronghold at the end of the runway.

  That needed to change. Tye needed to have some fun. She slid her hands out from underneath his and slapped her palms over his fingers. There. Now she had a shot at being in control. “My turn.”

  He hesitated, his fingers tensing beneath hers. Then he let go. Not happily, she knew, and probably not for long, but she’d take it. She promptly adjusted the speed setting, because this beginning mode wasn’t what she wanted. Not, she thought, that “standard” was much better. Apparently the makers of Segway were anti-speed too. There wasn’t a “fast,” “furious,” or “go, baby, go” setting anywhere to be seen. The Segway picked up speed, though, and she’d bet they were going all of twelve miles an hour.

  They hit a bump. Okay. She steered them straight through a pothole. That was the truth, plain and simple. Tye’s arm snaked around her waist and he cursed. Not in French. Nope. She understood what he said perfectly well.

  “Eyes on the road,” Mr. Grim Reaper demanded in her ear.

  “You always play by the rules?”

  “When my team’s safety is at stake? Absolutely.” His jaw tightened and he wrested control of the Segway from him.

  “I don’t like playing by the rules,” she informed him, turning to face him.

  “You do today.” He steered them left, making a tidy circuit of the landing strip behind the jump hangar. Katie counted two more planes parked on the runway and a half dozen pick-up trucks fanned out in a semi-circle. The place was peaceful and quiet. Boring.

  Then he stopped fast and that move threw her against his chest, because she hadn’t been holding on. Nope. She’d been letting go big time.

  She finger walked up his chest. “Penalty on the play.”

  He eyed her. “That’s the worst sports metaphor I’ve ever heard.”

  “Suck it up.” She nudged his sunglasses up.

  Danger, danger, Will Robinson. Tye had old eyes, like she’d thought the first time she’d seen him, but there was something else there now, something she couldn’t help but respond to. Heat. For her, Katie Lawson. She’d never been a femme fatale. Despite her man problem at the bar that had made Kade pony up his faux fiancé services, guys tended to see her as the fun friend. The girl they played with on the softball team and chatted up while they went after girls like Laura and Abbie. Tye, however, looked at her like he could eat her up.

  And she liked it.

  Which was so, so bad of her.

  Instead of turning around or getting off the Segway or doing any one of a dozen practical things, she slid her hands up his arms. His shoulders were as hard and powerful as the rest of him as he brought the Segway to a gentle halt. Good. Causing an accident wasn’t on her bucket list.

  “I’ve got worse metaphors,” she promised and his lips quirked.

  “Can’t wait for the show-and-tell.” He stood there, less than an inch of space between them and that slightly amused look curling his mouth. Her whole body was shrieking oui, oui, oui while her head countered with C’est impossible!

  “First base,” she whispered and, when he ducked his head to catch her words, she kissed him. Which was all his fault, she decided. He looked so hungry, what else was she supposed to do?

  Her mouth pressed against his, her lips slightly parted so she could catch his lower lip between hers. A soft, sipping kiss, just tasting him the slightest bit because he was probably—okay, definitely—off-limits and at no point had she asked him if this kissing business was okay. But he tasted perfect. She ran her tongue over his bottom lip just to make certain. Yup.

  He tasted perfect.

  “Katie—” Her name on his lips was part need, but mostly protest.

  *

  Tye jumped off the Segway so fast he ass-planted. Smooth.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “A kiss.” She glared at him, all no shit, Sherlock perched on the borrowed Segway.

  “That’s not on the list,” he accused.

  “Having a ménage is.” Damned if she didn’t look hopeful. Or something. He wasn’t sure what that something was, but he was in trouble here.

  “I can count to three, angel. There are two people here.”

  He wanted to leap back on that Segway. Or pull her down to the ground with him, get her underneath him and—

  He wrestled his rebellious thoughts under control. “I thought you wanted to wait until Kade comes home to tackle the ménage to do.”

  Right. Kade. He needed to be remembering his man down and not how Katie’s breasts had felt pressed up against his own chest.

  “You think I’m a nice girl.” She hopped off the Segway and crouched beside him, stabbing a finger into his chest accusingly.

  Yeah. He did.

  “You’re wrong.”

  He really, really wished he were.

  She chewed on her lower lip and he wondered if Kade had told her that little gesture was her tell and betrayed her every time she started fudging the truth. “About Kade and I—”

  “Save it,” he said, standing up. “I don’t want to hear the details. Consider that kiss practice, for when Kade comes home.”

  He wished his return trip to the hangar was a victory march, but the ride was more of a strategic retreat. Katie’s belief in Kade’s coming home was contagious, it really was, but like catching a killer cold or that H1N1 swine flu. It wasn’t healthy. He couldn’t afford to think that way.

  After all, no one knew better than he did that Kade was gone for good.

  Chapter Seven

  ‡

  The flames licked over the tree canopy, creating a column of smoke visible for miles. Tye knew this, because he had a ringside seat
for the fire’s next move. The jump team had hunkered down in their safety zone to wait out the fire currently parting around them like the Red Sea. Today’s safety zone was a previously-burned area which meant he was pretty much sitting on a pile of charcoal while the flames roared left and right. His present situation made Khost and the Afghan countryside actually look like a safe bet. The team had jumped in yesterday afternoon and then spent the night knocking down the flames. That had been good, hard work. There were no nightmares when he didn’t sleep. It was perfect.

  A tanker chugged overhead, dropping a load of pink retardant onto the flames. Pink rain, Tye thought. It was an absolute Dr. Seuss moment. Fortunately, today’s exit plan didn’t involve a pack-out. Instead, the team was waiting for a chopper pick up. Thank God, because Tye didn’t see anything remotely resembling either a trail or flat terrain.

  “We should have brought hot dogs.” Evan Donovan was a big guy, a broad-shouldered man who looked like he played defense for a football team. He was also a man on a mission as he tugged his protective gloves off and dug into an MRE he’d fished out of his pack.

  “Do you ever think about anything besides your stomach?” Rio punched his brother in the shoulder in easy camaraderie.

  Tye liked the Donovan brothers. They were good guys and all former military.

  Evan chewed, then swallowed. “That fire gets any closer and we’re going home minus a few parts.”

  Tye eyeballed the fire, but the Donovans seemed unconcerned. The other jumpers sprawled on their packs, feet up and asses planted. Joey was asleep. Jesus. If the Donovans weren’t worried, however, Tye was good. Mostly.

  “Mandatory break time,” Jack said, when Tye raised an eyebrow and looked his way. “Mother nature wants to make sure we get our state-mandated ten minute time out.”

  “No worries.” Tye pushed his helmet back, swiping at his forehead. He was pretty sure he’d just redistributed the black from the ash.

  “Good.” Jack eyed him. “Sometimes, the new guys worry.”

  “No idea why.” Tye watched the wall of flame sweeping past them. The flames’ roar approximated that of a freight train, drowning out the sound of the guys shifting. He took a drink from his canteen. Their picnic spot was uncomfortably hot, but pulling off his Nomex now was an unacceptable risk. He flexed his gloved hands. Nope. The gloves stayed on. Just in case.