Her SEAL
Page 1
Her SEAL
A Bad Boy Military Romance
Tara Wylde
Holly Hart
Red Cape Romance
Contents
Her SEAL
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
36. Epilogue
Stay in touch!
Kiss, Don’t Tell
1. Prologue - Kim
2. Kim
3. Nate
4. Kim
5. Nate
6. Nate
7. Kim
8. Kim
9. Nate
10. Kim
11. Nate
12. Kim
13. Nate
14. Kim
15. Kim
16. Kim
17. Nate
18. Kim
19. Nate
20. Nate
21. Kim
22. Kim
23. Nate
24. Kim
25. Nate
26. Kim
27. Nate
28. Kim
29. Nate
30. Kim
31. Epilogue - Kim
Faking It
1. Penny
2. Penny
3. Penny
4. Charlie
5. Penny
6. Charlie
7. Penny
8. Penny
9. Charlie
10. Penny
11. Charlie
12. Penny
13. Penny
14. Charlie
15. Penny
16. Charlie
17. Penny
18. Penny
19. Charlie
20. Penny
21. Charlie
22. Penny
23. Charlie
24. Penny
25. Charlie
26. Penny
27. Charlie
Epilogue - Penny
Faking It Extra Content!
1. Extended Epilogue
2. Deleted Kinky Scene
Also by Holly Hart
Stay in touch!
Part One
Her SEAL
Chapter One
TINA
This can’t be happening.
Not now. I did not spend the last five years working my butt off just so that Xander Freaking Tate could waltz back into my life and throw me totally off my game.
This is supposed to be my time to shine and Xander is supposed to be safely tucked away in my past. Forever. Hopefully with rocks and ropes holding him down.
But instead, here he is. Right in the middle of my hotel suite, wrapped in thick muscle and Navy tattoos, and shooting me that smug little grin. The one that always made me want to smack him.
Oh, admit it – that grin always made you want to jump him back in high school. And that was before he developed this Adonis body.
But I never did. I’ve never jumped anyone. I’m on the verge of superstardom, and yet I’ve never even slept with a man.
Let alone a man like him.
Stop it, girl! Focus!
I think I actually shake my head a little at the thought. I hope my nerves didn’t show. That would be incredibly awkward.
The tour starts in three days and I need to be on my game. I’ve worked so hard and sacrificed so much for this. I am not going to lose everything now.
Carol Ridley, the statuesque vice-president of publicity for StarPower Records, is oblivious to the scene that’s playing out in front of her. She lays a carefully manicured hand on Xander’s rippling back and guides him farther into the living room of my sumptuous penthouse suite in the Beverly Wilshire.
Closer to me.
“Tina Quinn,” she says with a smile. “I’d like you to meet your new boyfriend—”
“Xander Tate,” I finish for her, managing to keep my voice even.
I don’t want him to think that I’m anything other than bored by his sudden reappearance in my life. That I’m even remotely interested in what’s underneath that impossibly tight t-shirt and jeans. That I’m anything less than totally in control of this situation.
I’m so not in control of any of it.
Carol arches an eyebrow, her way of expressing complete shock. Next to her, Jason Lane is frowning at Xander.
Jason has been my manager and agent ever since we were teens, him talking our way into New Orleans nightclubs so that I could sing my heart out on their stages for zero compensation. He’s been against this crazy idea ever since Carol suggested it, and I doubt he’s any happier about it now that Xander has shown up.
But Carol Ridley is the money, and the money makes the rules.
“I’m obviously missing something here,” she says drily. I like Carol a lot – she’s not only the major brains behind this tour, but the person who was solely responsible for my big break. Still, she’s very intimidating with her Donna Karan suit and her Harvard accent.
The last thing I can afford to do is piss her off.
Meanwhile, Xander crosses his arms and cocks his head at me, that smug grin still sitting on his face like a twisted little snake. After all this time, I can still read his expression like a book: "are you going to tell her, or should I?”
Jason saves me the trouble. “We all went to high school together,” he says with a biting smile of his own. “Christina and I lost track of Tate after he flunked out.”
“Tina,” Carol corrects him automatically. “I’ve told you – Christina Quinn Kennedy is gone. The name on all our merchandise is Tina Quinn, and that's what we're sticking with.”
I blush a bit at that. After years of answering to “Chris,” I suddenly have to start listening for “Tina.” But Carol says research shows certain audiences don’t respond favorably to “gender-neutral” names, so Tina it is.
“I joined the Navy,” Xander drawls, speaking for the first time since he entered the suite. He turns to face Jason. “Some of us thought serving our country was important.”
We all know this, of course; Jason was just being a jerk. He’s been my best friend since we were tadpoles, but he always hated Xander. In high school I never knew why. But I came around to his way of thinking when Xander stopped responding to my emails a few months after he enlisted.
Bastard. I bet I was the last thing on your mind when you were out chasing women on shore leave.
Although I suppose in one way I should thank Xander for what he did. If it wasn’t for him dropping me like a hot potato, I probably wouldn’t have thrown myself into my music so completely. I channeled all those feelings of hurt and rejection into song, and all that anger into energy.
In all the time we’ve been separated, I never found time for another man. I focused only on my music and building my career. I never wanted to be put in that situation again.
And now here he is, reappearing like a bad penny right when I’m on the verge of my big tour. It’s like skating along and suddenly fall
ing through a hole in the ice into the freezing lake.
“Well, then,” says Carol, clapping her hands together. “Let’s take full advantage of this coincidence and dispense with the formalities. Since we all know each other and why we’re here – let’s go over the plan.”
She turns to Xander.
“I trust that you’re fully prepared to perform your duties to the letter of our contract.”
Xander looks me dead in the eye. “Oh, I’m ready to perform,” he purrs.
And – despite my best efforts – a tingle of anticipation runs right through me.
Chapter Two
XANDER
This can’t be happening.
I’m standing in a suite in the Beverly Wilshire looking at Christina Kennedy — I mean Tina Quinn. I’d better not piss off the woman controlling my hundred thousand dollar paycheck, after all. And my God, has Chris – Tina – grown up.
When I left for the Navy six years ago, she was just a little slip of a thing, maybe ninety pounds soaking wet. She filled out a pair of jeans like a rake. I remember running my hands over her body while we played seven minutes in heaven in the closet at Jackie Bedford’s party and wondering where her ass had disappeared to.
This gal, though.
Her rear end is filling out those cut-off jeans like an upside-down heart, and if the boobs under that plaid shirt push any harder, one of those buttons is gonna pop right off and hit me right in the eye.
I have to seriously fight the urge to pinch myself. I mean, a month ago I was manning the door at Heaven’s Gate nightclub in Studio City. I was barely able to make rent on a shitty little one-bedroom in East Hollywood, let alone put gas in the truck I bought off a corner lot when I first got to town. And the truck…
Hell, it sounds like Gabriel’s trumpet and smells like an oil refinery.
Yet somehow now I’ve found myself in Beverly Hills, about to start a job that’s going to pay me more for three weeks work than I made in two years in the Navy.
And if that’s not enough, I’m staring at an all-grown-up Chris—I mean Tina—and trying to keep my restless dick from turning my jeans into a circus tent.
And she’s looking at me like I’m something she scraped off the bottom of her shoe at the dog park.
I don’t blame her.
We were in each other’s pockets all through senior year, even though we never went all the way. She was from one of what we called the “proper families” in New Orleans.
Me? Not so much. I grew up in a shotgun shack on Warrington Drive, and my daddy’s idea of showing affection was waiting until we were home to thump me instead of doing it in public.
It wasn’t a surprise to anyone that I enlisted on my eighteenth birthday. Daddy made it clear early on that he wasn’t paying for my keep any longer than he legally had to. It was easy to be sore about it back then, but I realize now, even after all the shit that’s happened since, joining up was the best decision I could have made.
That doesn’t help right now, though, looking into Tina’s eyes and seeing the naked anger there. I know I hurt her when I cut off contact.
The fact that I didn’t have a choice doesn’t make that any easier to think about right now. See, when you join the SEALs—the U.S. Navy’s Sea, Air and Land special forces—they expect you to be discreet and keep your trap shut.
And trust me, a lot of the things I did in those years, you don’t want to hear about anyway. I barely let myself think about it. The dreams are enough torment for one lifetime.
But none of that pain seems to matter. Not right now. Because right now, all I can think about is what’s going on underneath Tina’s clothes.
Carol Ridley gives me the kind of look my mama used to before she passed, and I straighten up, trying to will the blood out of my crotch. This is serious business, and Ms. Ridley is definitely a serious lady.
“Sorry, ma’am,” I say. “I mean, I’m ready to fulfill my duties. To the letter.”
“Good,” she says. “Because this requires someone with sharp senses and intuition. I’ve dealt with these kinds of situations before and they’re no laughing matter.”
“No, ma’am.” I can tell by her expression that she likes being called “ma’am.” She obviously hasn’t spent much time around Southern men.
Jason Lane looks like he’s chewing on a lemon. His Brooks Brothers suit cost more than I made last month. Hell, his haircut alone probably cost more than my monthly food budget. He was always an insufferable prick, but I’m starting to sense that he’s been called up to the asshole major leagues since the last time I saw him.
Still, I can always console myself that while I spent the last few years honing my body into the perfect weapon, Jason…
Didn’t.
“I still think you’re overreacting,” he says to Carol. “I mean, so someone left love notes backstage at a few shows. What’s the big deal? It means Tina already has some diehard fans. That’s good news, is it not?”
Is it not? Seriously, what kind of Louisiana man talks like that? I don’t trust this prick an inch further than I can throw him.
“I agree,” says Tina. “With respect, I think this whole idea just isn’t worth the time and effort.” She flashes a scowl in my direction. “Or the money.”
She’s not wrong there. A hundred grand to pretend to be Tina’s boyfriend for a few weeks and scare off some stalker is flat-out ridiculous. But since I’m the one whose name is gonna be on the check, I feel like I’d better throw in my two cents here.
Carol beats me to the punch.
“We’ve been over this, Jason,” she says. She’s got a way of talking that makes you feel like you’re in the principal’s office.
“Because of the nature of the situation, Lloyd’s of London refused to insure the tour unless we provide round-the-clock protection for Tina. According to our experts, those weren’t just ‘love notes,’ they were disturbing expressions of possessiveness. And more importantly, they were left in secured areas backstage, which means whoever left them there was somehow able to circumvent our existing security. This isn’t just about money, it’s about Tina’s safety. I would’ve thought –” he hikes her eyebrow up, “that would have been your primary concern?”
Jason seems mad enough to spit, but he keeps his mouth shut. Carol isn’t finished.
“And we are not going to kick off Tina’s debut tour with a visible security detail around her 24/7,” she says. “It would make her appear aloof to her audience, and that is the exact opposite of what this tour needs to be about. Tina’s innocent, she’s the girl next door. She’s had the album, the breakout single, and now she needs to meet her fans up close and personal to seal the deal. If she’s seen as being uppity or spoiled, or anything less than utterly genuine and charming, she is dead in the water.
“And more importantly,” Carol says with a curled lip, “there goes my investment. Besides, I know I don’t need to tell you how many careers have been ruined overnight by a single photo or video making the rounds on social media.”
She turns towards me. “Enter Xander,” she says. I’d rather enter Tina, I think, and slap myself internally. Smarten up, boy.
“We have an extraordinary confluence of circumstances here, people. Xander’s obviously capable of protecting you, Tina. The video I saw showed that much very well. And thanks to recent events, he’s famous in his own right. It’s perfect. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Chapter Three
XANDER
I stand at attention, like I’m back on deck during a pernickety inspection, and rock from foot to foot. I’m still not used to all this attention.
I still can’t get over the fact that millions of people around the world have watched me on YouTube. Long story short: one night a few weeks ago, a half-dozen rich frat boys were drunkenly grabbing women on the dance floor of Heaven’s Gate and I had to bounce them out.
They weren’t too pleased with that, so they decided they were gonna teach me a lesson in the parking lot.
Now, in order to qualify for the SEALs, you have to be able to do fifty push-ups in two minutes, fifty sit-ups in two minutes, ten pull-ups in two minutes, plus swim five hundred yards and run a mile and a half in damn near record time—and that’s all before you even begin your training.
Nine out of ten sailors wash out long before they finish.
So going up against a college rowing team? Well – let’s just say they were… outgunned.
Anyway, a crowd gathered round us while we were having our fun, and one of them filmed the whole thing on their phone. Next thing I know, Bouncer Single-Handedly Beats Down Six Guys is all over social media and people are high-fiving me as they walk into the club.
It was kinda cool, sure, but I couldn’t help feeling a bit unreal about people congratulating me for beating up frat boys.
I mean, I spent five years with a team of elite fighters, infiltrating some of the most inhospitable environments on the planet, taking on people who could make those frat boys piss their shorts with a single look, and what do I get appreciated for? A bar fight with some drunks.
It’s crazy.
“I never actually watched the video,” Tina says.
Jason flashes a sarcastic grin. “You really should,” he says. “He’s a shoe-in for Best Performance by an Ape in a Parking Lot at this year’s Oscars.”
I smile back, teeth bared. Keep pushing it, buddy.
“You’ve made your opinion abundantly clear, Jason,” Carol says. “Now let me make something absolutely clear. Your opinion has no bearing on this. If you don’t like it, the door can hit you on the ass on the way out.” She glares at him, simmering with cool anger. “Or we can take a seat and go over things.”
He folds his arms across his chest and keeps his mouth shut. I drop him a wink just to be a bastard. Tina sits on one end of the wide, low-backed sofa, so I plunk down at the other.
“Might as well get used to sitting together,” I say, running a hand along the rich suede. “I guess we’ll be doing a lot of it…”
Tina doesn’t look too impressed, but Carol says: “He’s right. Public appearances start tomorrow, so you need to be comfortable with each other. That shouldn’t be too hard, since you all know each other already.”