Her SEAL

by Tara Wylde

  She faces me.

  “Is it safe to say you know what makes Tina tick?”

  I have to grin. I can’t help it.

  Tina just blushes and looks down, shielding her eyes. At anywhere and anything, in fact, except me. She looks like she’s wishing for a sinkhole to open up in front of her and swallow her whole.

  “If Xander can pull himself together for long enough,” she says, wincing, “I for sure will be able to handle it. We’re from the same place and know the same people, we even know the names of each other’s family members. It shouldn’t be hard at all.”

  Oh, it’s plenty hard, I think, and mentally slap myself again.

  “Perfect,” says Carol. “We’re kicking off the media tour tomorrow. We’ll lunch with Paula Merriwether from Teen People at 71Above. Then coffee at Verve with Lisa Chaney from Vogue and finally dinner at Toca Madera with Janelle Thompson from Billboard.”

  I recognize at least some of those restaurants and realize I can’t afford to eat at any of them. Until now, anyway. My stomach growls with anticipation. First Tina, then a series of Michelin star restaurants. The more I hear, the more this gig sounds perfect.

  “All right,” says Tina. “What about the morning?”

  “Morning’s set aside to get you dolled up and ready for your photos, superstar.”

  “All right,” Tina says, cocking a thumb at my end of the sofa. “And what about him?”

  “I could loan him one of my suits,” Jason offers half-heartedly.

  Carol shakes her head, obviously annoyed. “He’d split the seams in the chest and arms, dear. Besides, I’d say he’s pretty much perfect as is, wouldn’t you?”

  I don’t know about perfect, but this is definitely as good as I get. My wardrobe consists of t-shirts and jeans, and my hair’s short as a tick hound’s coat, so there’s not much you can do with it. I wear a black suit when I’m bouncing, but for the rest of the time, what you see is what you get.

  I’m a simple man, with simple pleasures.

  “I don’t think it matters what I wear,” I say. “It’s not like anybody’s gonna be looking at me if Tina’s anywhere in the room.”

  I’m just telling the truth, but suddenly Tina is staring at me and I’m locked in place by those dreamy aquamarine eyes of hers. It makes me think of the first time I kissed her, laying in the bed of my daddy’s pickup under the stars, out by the mangroves in the middle of nowhere.

  I thought she was hypnotizing me then. I feel the same way now.

  “Perfect!” Carol barks, and the moment is gone.

  “That’s exactly the kind of thing I want you to say in the interviews you. Otherwise, just… keep quiet and stand off to the side. Hold Tina’s hand if the cameras move in your direction. Otherwise, just be near her. After all, the story is about her. You, my dear, are window dressing. Very expensive window dressing, but window dressing nonetheless.”

  I shrug. None of that stuff matters to me. “As long as the check don’t bounce, I’ll do whatever you tell me.”

  “What if I tell you to go throw yourself into the ocean?” Tina says with a smug grin of her own. Carol essentially just said Tina’s in charge, and she’s rubbing my nose in it.

  “Well then,” I say, standing up and throwing my one-time girlfriend a cocky grin. “I guess I’d have to hop to it.”

  I strip off my t-shirt and toss it on the sofa, then use my right hand to start unbuckling my belt.

  Chapter Four

  TINA

  Xander’s shirt is off so fast that I barely have time to blink before my eyes are sprinting over the thick blue lines of the tattoos covering the slabs of his biceps and shoulders.

  The biggest tattoo is a gorgeous stylized anchor and chain in deep, rich blue that practically jumps off his skin. Before I even know what’s happening, I can feel sudden dampness in my panties.

  Dammit!

  This is just like high school all over again. Every time I think I’ve got the upper hand on Xander, he has to take things up a notch. Just like that line about no one paying attention to him, just me. It’s so like him.

  “At ease, sailor,” I hear Carol say. She’s smiling, though, so she obviously thinks he’s charming. Argh! At least he does as he’s told and puts his shirt back on. Poor Jason looks even angrier, if that’s possible. I can’t blame him; Xander always upstaged him when we were kids.

  And much as I hate to admit it, that’s what always attracted me to Xander. It’s what still makes me want to run my hands up that washboard belly and stroke his chest hair and play with his nipples and—

  Get a grip!

  Xander sits back down on the sofa. I get up. I don’t want to be sitting next to him right now.

  “So we know what the plan is for tomorrow,” I say, just to fill the maddeningly empty silence. “What about the rest of the tour?”

  Carol pulls a tablet from her purse and touches it with her stylus. “We’ve got media every day until Sunday, and shows every evening until the end of the month,” she says.

  “You’ll have mornings to yourselves for the most part. Afternoons are for interviews and sound checks, naps if you like. Then the shows and after parties. Otherwise we play it by ear.”

  Xander raises a hand as if we were still in school. “And me?” he asks.

  “In public, you’ll be by Tina’s side. Behind closed doors, you’ll have mornings off, so you can work out and beat up people, or whatever it is you do for fun. At the shows, you’ll have the run of the place. I trust with your training and experience that you’ll be able to spot and eliminate any potential threats?”

  Jason cocks an eyebrow. “Training and experience?” he scoffs. “He beat up a few drunks. How does that qualify him as a security professional?”

  Carol and Xander share a glance and her expression turns serious. “That’s not your business, Jason, it’s mine. Xander has free rein, period.”

  Jason fixes his gaze on the floor and shakes his head in bitter resignation. “I guess I’ve been told,” he says, not bothering to hide the anger in his tone.

  For the first time since he walked into the room, Xander actually looks serious. The smug little half-grin is gone and his eyes are stony. He leans forward on the sofa and props his elbows on his knees.

  “For what it’s worth, I know what I’m doing,” he says directly to me.

  “Ms. Ridley and I had a long discussion before I agreed to this gig and I wouldn’t have taken the job if I didn’t think I had what it takes to do it. Besides, you know me. You know I mean what I say.”

  The worst part of it all is, he’s right. I do know him. If Xander says he'll do something, he’ll do it, no matter what it takes.

  “All right,” I sigh. “I guess the sooner we start, the sooner we can get it over with.”

  Carol glances back and forth between us. “Why do I get the feeling there’s something missing here?” she says, clear suspicion in that Harvard voice. “Just how well do you two know each other?”

  I stay silent for a moment before deciding it won’t do any good to lie. “We dated,” I mutter. “It wasn’t serious.”

  I don’t like lying to Carol, the woman who plucked me from nowhere and gave me the career I’ve always wanted – but what good would it do anyone if she knew the truth?

  Xander’s face is unreadable. “Yeah,” he agrees. “It wasn’t serious.”

  Carol looks at the two of us again and shakes her head.

  “Whatever, kids. I don’t really care, as long as we all live up to our obligations.” She glances at the platinum Movado watch on her wrist.

  “And I have places to be. I’ll be in outside the lobby in the StarPower limo at precisely 11 o’clock tomorrow morning. I want you there and waiting at 10:45. Clear?”

  “Clear,” I say.

  “Clear,” Xander says.

  Now that I’ve finally accepted the situation, the excitement is starting to creep back in. I’m starting a ten-city tour tomorrow! I’m going to be interviewe
d in Billboard magazine!

  This is everything I’ve wanted since, well…

  Since Xander left me.

  He picks up the faded duffle he tossed unceremoniously on the floor when he came in and heads to my bedroom. My pulse quickens, but I can’t honestly say whether it’s anger, shock or excitement.

  “Hold it, buster!” I bark. “Uh-uh. That ain’t happening.”

  Carol sidles up to me and lays a perfectly manicured hand on my shoulder. “Sorry,” she says, and I can hear sympathy in her voice.

  “I’m afraid it is happening.”

  Chapter Five

  TINA

  “You’re not serious,” I say.

  It’s a statement, not a question. I respect Carol, but there’s no way in hell I’m sharing a bed with Xander Tate, the Hundred Thousand Dollar Gigolo. I don’t care what my other lips might be telling me, it is not going to happen.

  “Settle down,” Carol coos. “He’s just putting his things away. He’ll sleep in the other bedroom.”

  “Why can’t he keep his goshdarn stuff in his own room?” I snap. And there it goes, all my years of work trying to get the Cajun out of my voice. And, of course, this makes Xander grin.

  Asshole, I think sourly.

  “Think about it,” he says. “This hotel’s full of staff that are walking in and out all the time. If they see me in a completely separate room, you can bet the rumors will start to fly. We’re just covering all our bases.”

  He throws me an insouciant smile. “You know what they say – loose lips sink ships.”

  Carol nods. “And I know from experience that hotel staffers are among the biggest paid source for tabloids and gossip bloggers. Remember what happened with you-know-who and the threesome?”

  I do know who, and I definitely remember the fallout from that particular affair. She was a rising star with a major studio that produced TV shows, movies and music for kids.

  When it came out that she’d engaged in a cocaine-fueled romp with her boyfriend and another girl, the company dropped her like the wrong end of a branding iron. I have no idea where she is now, but I do know it’s not on my TV screen or my radio.

  “That all came from the cleaning staff,” says Carol. “There were pictures on a phone left on a nightstand, and things just snowballed from there. It’s also a reminder to tip generously.”

  I grimace, and let out a heavy sigh. I want to shout, want to argue, want to raise all hell – but I know it’s no use.

  This is maddening, but Carol is probably the smartest person I know, so I need to just accept it and move on.

  Besides, I owe her everything.

  I glance over at Jason, who shrugs and shoots me back a resigned look. A throbbing tic on his jaw gives away his true feelings on the subject.

  But there's nothing we can do about it. It’s going to be what it’s going to be. And I need to remember that this is my big moment, the culmination of years of work and sacrifice. I went without sleep for this. I went without sex for this. I went without sanity for this.

  I need this.

  Xander Tate is a distraction, nothing more. And distractions can – must – be ignored.

  Maybe if I tell myself that enough times, I’ll actually believe it.

  “Okay,” I mutter, spinning on my heel and heading for my bedroom without another look back. “Have it your way.”

  Xander follows me in. I do my best not to stare at the muscles rippling under his shirt like bridge cables wrapped in cheesecloth. He reaches to open one of the drawers in my dresser.

  “Nuh-uh,” I say from the doorway, pointing towards the standing wardrobe in the en suite bathroom. “That’s yours. The rest is mine.”

  He smiles. “Beats a foot locker on an infiltration submarine any day,” he says. “I’ll take it.”

  As I watch him unpack, I can’t help but ask myself: Has he really grown up? This man has all the smartass charm of the boy I loved, but he’s changed, too. Became somehow serious.

  Carol obviously sees something in him. Does that mean I should, too?

  Looking at Xander now, I wonder what happened to me in the years since he left for the Navy. Have I changed, as well?

  I mean, of course singing has been my dream since before I could talk. It’s all I ever wanted to do, and my parents always encouraged me to pursue my dreams. But after Xander broke off contact, it’s like I just forgot about men. I guess it was a decision made partly out of anger and partly out of sadness.

  Other than a couple of failed – disastrous – attempts by friends to fix me up, I haven’t even been on a date in almost six years.

  God, that makes me sound like such a loser…

  I’ve never been to bed with a man. Never been touched, barely been kissed. I know that’s not some sort of failure or anything, but I can’t help feeling like I’ve missed out on something important. And now that Xander is back in my life, so close I could reach out and stroke his thick, hard biceps, I can’t help but picture that…

  Us.

  Together?

  After all, maybe there is more to life than just singing and making it big.

  Truthfully, I’ve “made it” already – this tour is huge, and it'll set me up for years. It sounds crazy, but I’ll probably never have to work again – if I don’t want to, anyway. I’m not sure I’m sort of famous now, and by the end of the tour I may very well be a household name. At least that’s the goal, and I have every confidence in Carol’s ability to make it happen.

  But then what? Are fame and fortune supposed to be ends in and of themselves? I never spent much time thinking about it, but suddenly it seems to be the only thing I can focus on.

  What good does it do me to have millions of fans if I don’t even have someone to hold me in bed after the show is over and everyone has gone home?

  Before I even know what’s going on, Xander is behind me. I feel his hot breath on my neck, flowing down my skin under the collar of my shirt.

  I jump like I’ve been touched by a live wire.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” he says quietly in my ear. He used to do that when we were kids, just whisper softly right next to me, so close that it didn’t even matter what the words were, all I cared about was his breath making my hair stand on end.

  “Get out of here,” I choke. I can’t deal with him so close. It’s bringing up memories I’m not prepared to sift through. “Your stuff can be in here, but you can’t.”

  “Technically it’s not time for bed yet,” he whispers. “It’s still daylight out.”

  I can’t seem to catch my breath, or even screw up the will to turn around and face him. My body is on fire, sparks flying like lightning crackling into dry brush.

  Then Xander’s hands are on my hips, pushing down on the waistband of my cut-off jeans. Then I feel the stiffness under his jeans pressing urgently against my butt.

  Then, all the memories of nights in the bed of that old pick-up truck flood my mind and it’s like I’m back in Jackie Bedford’s closet, both of us swept up in the moment, in the heat of each other.

  Chapter Six

  XANDER

  I don’t know how I ended up here.

  One second I’m about to walk out of the bedroom, the next I’m grinding up against Christina’s backside, breathing down her neck and running my hands over her hips. It’s like a magnetic force grabbed my cock and pulled me towards her.

  As I reach upwards from her waist, I can feel her pushing back into me, wedging my hard-on between the cheeks of her ass. It’s so different from the days in my daddy’s truck bed, before she blossomed into this goddess whose breasts I’m caressing and whose perfect ass is making my cock strain painfully against my jeans.

  Neither of us says a word as my palms slide along the soft cotton of her plaid shirt, flattening against her belly and pressing upwards to cup her breasts. They used to be tiny teacups years ago, but now they’re full and soft, filling my palms to overflowing.

  I’m panting in her ear now
like a dog in the sun as she braces her palms against the wall and presses harder against cock. I have the bizarre urge to pick her up and carry her into the bedroom’s walk-in closet for seven real minutes in heaven.

  Although right now, I seriously doubt I could last seven minutes. Maybe not even seven seconds.

  We still haven’t spoken yet—with our mouths, anyway. It’s like we’re under a spell – like we were never apart from one another. I don’t dare say a word, in case I bring this moment of perfection crashing down around me, like a mirror shattering in a dream.

  Our bodies touch like old friends catching up after years apart.

  Tina wriggles from my grip and spins to face me. Suddenly her hands are under my t-shirt, her fingernails tracing little circles around my nipples. She stares into my eyes, her mouth open, her hot breath mixing with mine, one hand moving south towards the bulge under my jeans.

  “Room service is here!” Carol calls from the living room.

  Suddenly the world comes crashing back in on us. Tina’s eyes go wide and she gulps in air like a deep sea diver. The hand that was roaming towards my crotch is now pushing me away from her.

  “Be right out!” she yelps, voice high and shocked.

  Tina squeezes her eyes shut, and runs her fingers through her hair. She looks on the verge of panic, as if she’s talking to herself, and asking what the hell happened.

  I feel exactly the same way.

  Tina’s eyes flicker open. But she doesn’t look at me. It’s like her gaze will fall on anything – as long as it’s not in my direction.

  She quickly fastens the buttons that had come loose on her shirt before heading out the door. The only evidence that anything at all happened between us is the painful sensation of my cock bending against my fly.

  I take a few deep breaths, willing the blood back out of it, before I step out into the living room myself. I've crawled through miles of shit and mud in filthy damn wetlands, ignoring trench foot and the mosquitoes going to town on my skin for God and country – and all without a word of complaint.