SEALs of Summer: Military Romance Superbundle - Navy SEAL Style

by Sharon Hamilton

  “I just got out of the military,” Mason explained to Mrs. Morales.

  Her eyes lit up. “Come over later for dinner. I’ll feed you tamales. It’s what I do for my nephew whenever he comes home. He’s a pilot.”

  “That sounds terrific,” Mason said to her, and Regan relaxed a little. The sensible side of her nature told her it was ridiculous to invite a man she didn’t know into her apartment. But Mrs. Morales had seen them together and if anything happened she’d call the police. She opened the door and ushered him in, remembering too late the state of the tiny space.

  “Sorry about the mess,” she said. “I still haven’t figured out where to put everything.”

  “No problem,” he said, taking in the bed, the piled boxes in the corner, the crammed shelves.

  “So… were you ever actually in Afghanistan?” she asked, clasping her hands together nervously. She couldn’t believe Mason was standing here in the flesh—here in New York.

  “Yes, I was,” he assured her. “I was supposed to fly out later, but things changed at the last minute. I guess they got tired of me.”

  “But… why are you here? I thought you would go straight to Montana after you were discharged.”

  He took her hand. “Because,” he said, pulling her closer slowly, this time giving her a chance to pull away, “I couldn’t wait one more day to see you.” He bent down to kiss her and despite her best intentions, Regan found herself tilting her head to kiss him back. He started gently, but soon the intensity of his kiss grew. He slid his arms around her and pulled her tight against his body. Her hands went of their own volition around his neck. She liked the prickly sensation of his buzz cut under her fingers and loved the feeling of his hands low on her waist. She didn’t know how she could have fallen so fast for a man who’d been halfway around the world just a short time ago, but she had.

  “Regan,” he said when they pulled apart. “God, you’re more beautiful than I thought.”

  Suddenly shy, she pulled away and crossed to the kitchen. “Would you like a drink of something? Water? Pop? I don’t have any beer.”

  “Water’s fine,” he said, following her. “I haven’t scared you, have I? Showing up like this?”

  She poured the glass of water. Handed it to him, then leaned back against the counter. “Actually, you have.”

  Mason stilled. “That’s not my intention.”

  “I know, and it’s really good to see you. Really good. The thing is,” she paused, searching for the right words. “Something like this can’t work out. Us—meeting online. Swapping e-mails, texting, Skyping… that’s not the way the world works. What?”

  Mason was chuckling. “Actually, it’s exactly the way the world works. Do you know how many times in history something similar has happened? What about the mail order brides who helped settle the west? They established relationships through the written word, just like we did. They exchanged photos and descriptions of themselves. What we’re doing is much easier. All they had were letters. We had Skype. So a computer screen separated us when we talked, so what? We still saw each other’s faces. We saw each other’s reactions. We know each other just as well as the average couple who meets at a party or bar do when they have their first real date.”

  “I guess so,” Regan said. She wanted to be convinced. She just didn’t want to be stupid.

  “Can we at least spend the afternoon together? Have dinner with Mrs. Morales? She can be our chaperone.”

  “Okay,” Regan said, not giving herself a chance to think it through. “The Morales seem to eat around six. We have several hours until then.” Her skin heated as she thought of intimate ways they could pass those hours. That would be far from a wise choice. Still, she wondered what it would be like to explore the body of this handsome man. What would his skin feel like under her hands? What would he do to her? How would he feel inside of her?

  She looked away, but Mason must have read her mind again, because he came closer, rested his hands on her hips and said, “I want to kiss you again. You all right with that?”

  She nodded. She was more than all right with that. When Mason cupped her face in his hands, she tilted her chin up willingly to meet him halfway. Her heart beat strong and fast as their mouths met. This time he pulled her in closer, asking for more—demanding it. She met him with equal passion and longing, sliding her hands up over his chest. He was so big, so strong. She’d never met a man quite like this before, his muscles hard as steel underneath her fingertips. She felt small, fragile, overwhelmed by the tenderness with which he touched her. She had the feeling he was enjoying his exploration of her—that he was okay with taking it slow. At least for now.

  When he pulled back there was a look in his eyes that took her breath away.

  He wanted her. And she wanted him right back.

  “We’d better get out of here before I overstep my common sense,” Mason said. “How about a walk? I could use one to stretch my legs.”

  “That sounds good,” she said gratefully. “Do you want to sight-see or head over to Central Park?”

  “Central Park sounds good,” he said. “I don’t suppose you have a football or Frisbee or something?”

  She brightened. “Actually, I do.”

  Chapter Eleven

  ‡

  Mason took her hand as they left her building, and Regan didn’t pull away. It was a short ride to the Park and then they joined the other sunshine-seekers out for a stroll on this beautiful April day. Every time she was brave enough to slide a sideways glance Mason’s way, she found him looking back at her. His gaze was direct, but not intimidating. She had a feeling he was trying to figure her out in the same way she was trying to understand him. His hand was rough and calloused, his fingers dwarfing hers. It felt right and natural to hold hands with him, though—as if they’d always done this. Did that mean that she’d found someone special? Regan hoped so.

  But what if she had? What could it possibly mean? He was going to live in Montana, and she was due to get pregnant in just under a month. Their lives couldn’t possibly line up. What would a cowboy want with New York? And what would she want with life on a ranch? The very idea was ridiculous. She’d be as out of place there as diamonds on a pig. As lonely as she’d been in these past few months, wouldn’t she be lonelier in Montana—on a ranch in the middle of nowhere?

  Mason interrupted this dark train of thought when he stooped to pick something up from the pavement—a very battered, very dusty stuffed dinosaur, she realized. He scanned the area and honed in on a woman pushing a stroller ahead of them.

  “Be back in a minute.” He jogged up to the young mother striding down the path in black yoga pants and a lime green jacket. Regan watched her look up in alarm at his approach, take in the dinosaur in his hands and visibly relax. Mason bent down and handed the dinosaur to the toddler in the stroller, who lit up at the sight of his toy and grabbed it with both hands. Both Mason and the mother laughed at his delighted reaction. Regan was close enough to hear her thank him profusely for returning the toy.

  “Say thank you to the nice man,” she told her son.

  “Thank you!” the boy yelled enthusiastically.

  Regan let out a long breath, melting at Mason’s answering smile for the little boy. He was kind. Considerate. Thoughtful.

  A real man.

  As he turned, caught sight of her and brightened like the boy when he saw his dinosaur, Regan’s heart soared. This man liked her. Liked her.

  She had the feeling her whole life was about to change.

  Maybe Montana wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  When they arrived at a relatively empty patch of grass, Regan recognized the mistake she had made. Playing Frisbee meant that Mason was standing far away from her. They could chat while they sent the dayglo orange disc back and forth, but they couldn’t touch.

  She wanted to touch. But she wanted to keep things light, too.

  After sending the disc back and forth a few times, and participating in so
me stilted conversation, she remembered a game she used to play with her sister when they were young. She leaped up to grab Mason’s latest throw and trotted over to him. Taking his hand she tugged him toward a wooded area.

  “You want to play Frisbee in the woods?” he asked. “I don’t think that’s going to work so well.”

  “I want to play target Frisbee.”

  “What’s that?”

  They came to a stop about twenty feet from the trees. Regan pointed to a dangling branch that must have been damaged in a winter storm. “Ten points says I’ll hit that.” She aimed, flicked her wrist and sent the disc on a rather wobbly trajectory that just managed to hit the tip of the dangling branch. “Ten points!” She went to retrieve the Frisbee. “Your turn.”

  “I’ve never heard of this game.”

  “Are you kidding? Everyone’s heard of target Frisbee. It’s super big in the military!”

  Mason snorted at her fake earnest tone. “I don’t think so.” But he pointed to a slightly higher branch. “Fifteen points says I hit that.” He nailed it.

  Regan was impressed, but she wasn’t going to show it. “Anyone could hit that.” She grabbed the Frisbee from him when he brought it back and pointed to a branch angling away from them. “Twenty points for that one.”

  “Give it here—I’ll make that shot.”

  She elbowed him aside. “Wait your turn, sailor. I’ll show you how it’s done.” She was glad to see that Mason could take some kidding around. If he was stiff and formal she wouldn’t have liked him at all. She wanted grownup things—marriage, a family—but she didn’t want to have to act like a grownup all the time. Life was way too short for that.

  Besides, if memory from her teenage years served, sometimes horsing around with a guy you liked could lead to some interesting consequences.

  She flung the Frisbee as hard as she could, but this time her shot was wildly off. Mason laughed out loud, then ducked away when she went after him. She gave chase until he stopped short and she smacked into him. Mason reacted so fast she didn’t know how she ended up in his arms or pinned on the ground beneath him, but there she was flat on her back, and there he was above her. And if she wasn’t mistaken, he was going to kiss her again.

  She wasn’t mistaken at all.

  When he pulled her to her feet a few minutes later, she felt dizzy. “What was that for?”

  “You missed a shot. You had to take your penalty.” He tugged her along to go retrieve the Frisbee and that’s how they played the rest of the game, taking wilder and wilder shots, racking up points for making them, racking up soul-searing kisses when they missed and holding hands each time they retrieved the Frisbee. An hour later, Regan ached with the desire to get even closer to him.

  When was the last time she’d had such simple fun? When was the last time she’d been with such a sexy, confident man? Her last boyfriend would have had to make every shot just to prove how competent he was. It would have never occurred to him that it could be fun to lose.

  By the time they headed home, their arms around each other’s waists, Regan felt like she’d known Mason for months, not hours. It felt so right to touch him, to talk to him—to lean against him, and even to kiss him. She found herself telling him all about coming to New York, longing for the excitement she thought city life would bring, and how it hadn’t ended up being all it was cracked up to be.

  “What’s the best part?” Mason asked her as they walked down the cracked sidewalk to her apartment building.

  “The architecture,” she said without hesitation. “I’m a sucker for architecture—especially older buildings.”

  “What’s the worst part?”

  “The loneliness.”

  His arm tightened around her waist. “You’re not alone anymore.”

  *

  Mason was grateful to have dinner with the Morales. If they’d had dinner by themselves at some romantic restaurant, he probably would have proposed. Regan was all he’d hoped she’d be and more—beautiful, smart, funny, silly. He’d worried some about coming to meet her so soon after coming home. The truth was, it wasn’t easy to transition from military to civilian life. At times during the last few weeks he’d felt off-balance, like his reactions weren’t in sync with reality. He’d listened to his counselor about what to expect upon reentering society, like coming home from a tour of duty but ten times worse. He’d been prepared to watch his temper and excuse himself if he felt he was veering off course. Since Central Park was a crowded place, he’d cautioned himself that it might not suit him. That maybe it would all be too much.

  Regan’s game had distracted him from anything else, though and he’d had fun today, plain and simple. What a relief to find he wasn’t a ticking time bomb of emotions. Maybe he was better off than most because he had something to look forward to. The return of his family’s ranch. The rebuilding of his family’s livelihood.

  And Regan. Sweet, beautiful Regan.

  If he was alone with her, he didn’t know how he’d contain himself, so it was a good thing that the Morales family would keep him on track. Regan told him she had gotten to know Annamaria because of the Morales’ new baby, Santiago. He was the sweetest infant she’d ever seen and when Annamaria let her hold him she never wanted to give him back.

  Mason’s heart had warmed to hear how she talked about the baby. Regan was a woman who was ready for love, marriage and family. He now thought he was ready, too. When Heloise’s letter had come, the idea of rushing into such an arrangement had stopped him in his tracks, but after today he found that nothing seemed more enticing. Love with Regan. Marriage with Regan. Making babies with her.

  Best not to think about that last one right now, however. Mason shifted as they stood in the hall outside the Morales’ apartment. The door opened and a stocky, black haired, middle-aged man beamed at them.

  “Regan! Come in! Dinner’s almost ready.”

  “Hi Antonio. This is my friend, Mason Hall. Mason, this is Antonio Morales.”

  He shook hands with the man, accepted his offer of a beer and allowed himself to be led to the living room while Regan joined Annamaria in the kitchen. A minute later she was back.

  “She won’t let me help.” Instead, she went to pick up Santiago from his play pen and sat next to Mason, snuggling the infant in her arms. Santiago gurgled and laughed when she propped him on her lap and rubbed her nose against his. Watching Regan bend over the infant, Mason felt his heart shift in a funny way. He leaned closer, wishing he could put his arm around her shoulders.

  “Do you want to hold him?”

  Mason hesitated. Hold the baby? He’d never done that before. “I don’t know how.”

  “It’s easy.” She smiled up at him and transferred Santiago carefully into his arms. Mason held his breath, afraid to hurt the little mite, but the baby wiggled with happiness and wrapped his tiny hand around Mason’s thumb.

  “He’s a strong little guy,” he said. Santiago watched him with big, brown eyes.

  “Very strong,” Antonio agreed with the calm assurance of a proud father.

  Regan was watching him too with something like hunger in her eyes. He remembered what she’d said about wanting children. Did he look as good to her holding Santiago as she had looked to him? He sat back with a smile. He’d hold the baby until dinner, in that case.

  *

  If Mason had been sexy before, now he was irresistible. The juxtaposition of the baby’s tiny body snuggled into his large biceps made Regan tingle all over with desire. Suddenly she didn’t care about being sensible. She didn’t care about anything except getting closer to Mason. She wanted to be tucked as closely to him as the baby in his arms.

  Regan struggled to keep her mind off what would happen after dinner. Mason hadn’t mentioned a hotel, and she didn’t even know how long he planned to stay. Would he expect to sleep over?

  Did she want him to?

  The answer was a resounding yes—she did want him to. And at the same time she wanted to be smart
. While her body ached to be closer to Mason, she was beginning to think he could be much more than a fling—more than a boyfriend, even. Of course, Mason had been clear since day one he was looking for a wife, but she’d never been clear that she’d been looking for a husband.

  Now she thought she might be. And she thought she might have found him.

  After they’d eaten and done the dishes, they returned to Regan’s apartment with a healthy plateful of leftovers for when they got hungry later, as Annamaria put it. Regan slid it into her refrigerator and joined Mason on the bed.

  He tugged her closer. “Regan, I’m going to ask you something and I want you to keep an open mind about it.”

  She tensed, wondering if he was going to ask to stay the night. She still didn’t have an answer, although her body knew exactly what it wanted to do.

  “You don’t have a job and as far as I can tell you don’t have any other obligations right now. It’s early in the month and you’ve paid your rent.”

  Regan wondered where this was going. So far, he was right, but what did that have to do with spending the night?

  “Come home with me.” He squeezed her hand. “Come to Crescent Hall for the rest of May. If you hate it, or hate me I’ll fly you home and pay for next month’s rent, since I’ll have kept you from working. If you like it and like me,” he smiled down at her, “I’ll help you move the rest of your things out to Montana. What do you say?”

  All the reasons to say no crowded into her mind at once. She didn’t know him. He could be a serial killer. She would get behind on starting her business. She might miss her artificial insemination appointment. No—she thought for a moment—she could arrange things so she’d be back for that.

  If things didn’t work out with Mason.

  Shouldn’t she give old-fashioned love and romance one last try? Here was a man who wanted the same things she did—marriage, a family. She hadn’t set out to be a single mother. That had been her fall-back plan.

  Maybe Mason represented the dream.

  “Yes,” she said.