SEAL My Love: A SEAL Brotherhood Novel

by Sharon Hamilton

  Fredo shrugged. He pointed to Kate’s sister. He kissed his fingers at his lips and then pointed again at Gretchen.

  Trace wiggled his eyebrows. A Team Guy’s sister was one thing, but a SEAL wife’s sister could cause a whole lot of heartache in numerous families, so it was watched very carefully. Fredo was giving his thumbs up. It was the go-ahead, not that Trace really needed it, to proceed.

  “You know her?” Trace whispered.

  Fredo nodded. He gave Trace the A-OK. “Golden,” he mouthed. He added, swinging his arms as if holding a baby, “Three children.”

  Trace frowned. Then he gave an exaggerated shudder.

  Fredo shook his head in disagreement. He showed three levels with his hands, indicating the three different heights, or ages, of Gretchen’s girls. He also winked and kissed his fingers again, indicating they were nice girls.

  Trace shrugged. He couldn’t see himself dating a mother of three. He hoped there’d be some variety once they got to their place. Dating the novelist was totally out of the question, but that’s what everyone was expecting, including the writer herself.

  Way to step in it, Trace.

  So far, things were not as uncomplicated as he’d hoped. But there were six days to go.

  When the van turned left off the two-lane meandering highway and headed into the hills sparsely dotted with multi-million dollar homes, Trace could see that the venue they’d chosen was prime. Each house they passed became more estate-like, the gates got fancier, and the humidity and heat lessened the higher they climbed. Finally, they drove onto a lava rock driveway leading to an iron gate adorned with pineapple patterns. The shapes looked like pieces of a metal quilt. Their driver punched in numbers on the keypad outside, and the gate slid across the lava rock, which became part of a circular driveway in front of a plantation-style, pale yellow home. Though the structure was square with second story gables, the size of it made the second story dwarf in comparison. An even more generous wraparound deck nearly twenty feet deep was decorated with wooden gingerbread railings also with pineapple cut-out motif. Double glass doors were etched in a lacy pineapple design as well.

  The air was cool with a slight breeze, yet the sun was shining without a cloud in the bright, azure sky. Below, green hills rolled amongst rows of plantings, farm animals, and occasional horses, which seemed out of place. Farthest away was the warm expanse of cream-colored beach and blue breakwater. The horizon was marred with several large hotel complexes and two spectacular golf courses. Trace knew that most tourists were housed below, near the golfing, shopping, and beach, but the old Hawaiians with money would seek the privacy and beauty of their hillside estates. It nearly took his breath away.

  “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” Gretchen whispered as she appeared to his left.

  “Nope. I don’t think I have. Isn’t what I was expecting to see here in Hawaii. Like how it must have looked a hundred years ago, if you could cut out the hotels,” he answered.

  “Oh. My. God,” Linda exclaimed as she clasped her hands together. “This is the perfect setting for my next novel! The Hawaiian Princess and the Navy SEAL. Can’t you just feel the romance budding? I see sex in an awesome master bedroom, which this place surely has, sex on a grandmother’s Hawaiian quilt spread under a papaya tree, and sex on the sun-kissed beach. Can’t you, Gretchen?”

  Trace was amused by her outspoken and overtly sexual expressions, but he could see she’d embarrassed Gretchen, whose cheeks had turned a blotchy hot pink.

  “She’s a little ahead of herself, I’d say,” whispered Trace to ease Gretchen’s tension. “I mean, they’ve not met yet in her book, right? Has she even started it?”

  Gretchen giggled and shook her head no. “But I understand her method is to start with the sex scene and then work her way forward and back from that big event.” She gave him a dazed look and rolled her eyes, as well as her shoulders. “But I don’t write books, and I’ve got zero imagination.”

  Trace knew she was wrong just by the way she said it.

  “What time of the day is the sex at the beach?” Trace asked. He held his breath and let her struggle, but finally, she gave him a thoughtful answer.

  “She’d say at sunset, a bright orange sunset. But for me, close to midnight with the black sky and all the stars on display. Maybe some ukulele music and an old Hawaiian woman singing in the background.”

  Trace was taken aback. It was the same vision he’d had. Without the Ukulele music.

  “Ms. Sanders, I’d say you have a very good imagination,” he whispered in her ear, squeezed her upper arm, and pushed past her to retrieve luggage from the van where the others were.

  Gretchen was going to say something back to him but had gotten snagged by Linda Gray. He heard them discussing something as he put distance between them—well, Linda discussing and Gretchen listening. He turned his head around just enough to see Gretchen watching him walk away.

  Now that was a good sign and way more to his liking.

  Chapter 4

  Gretchen avoided Trace’s eyes, but she could tell he watched her every chance he had. She’d not had that much attention since the TV reporters who hounded her after her husband’s very public display of indecency. In that case, the heartless reporters even ramped it up when she was with her daughters. Clover had ran after one of them, but, thank goodness, didn’t catch up with the cameraman, or they’d have had a lawsuit for sure.

  Even that landed on the tabloid TV show, and her ex had the gall to call Gretchen up and ream her about not getting better control of their girls.

  What an asshole.

  The tabloids never got wind of Tony’s real dark side. They were more interested in the sexcapades.

  This kind of attention focused on her made her nipples knot, made her knees wobble a little, made her want to run her fingers through her hair and reposition her clip, leaving a wisp or two of curls lapping down the back of her neck because it made her feel wanted and desired. She knew her cheeks were flushed, and her panties were in a constant state of wet and cool, depending on if she was sitting or standing on the porch, hanging on to the pale yellow wooden pillar and marveling at the view below. She knew wood, especially painted wood, was not the way of the islands now. This house had obviously been built during the old plantation days when the monarchy was in its glory. The old Queen was gone now for nearly a hundred years, but her legacy of grace, of raising beautiful tropical flowers, and her love of singing and watching the young dancers swing their hips and call to each other with their graceful arms and hands was legendary. She herself had once been a beauty and had been an expert Polynesian dancer.

  Maybe there was something to what Linda said, because the story of the Hawaiian princess and the Navy SEAL started fanning the flames of her heart, making the hairs on the back of her neck desire to be kissed.

  She could tell he was staring at her and that he knew she was aware of it, too. She gave him a smile and did not dare look for his reaction. All she could do was fan herself with the folder she was holding and then take down and re-clip her hair again, for the tenth time in the past hour as they had been setting things up in the house.

  They’d given her a room with Linda, one of the smaller ones, with twin beds. But she loved the privacy and the little marble-topped writing desk in front of the gabled window perfect for writing love letters, or romance novels. The flush of cool, ocean breeze was something she was looking forward to inhaling all night long as she slept.

  Trace stood at the doorway and, of course, like a gentleman, would not come into the room without an invitation. She could imagine herself as the island princess and he a pirate sea captain, not daring to touch her for fear of losing his life. The tension was there, just the same in this century as it could have been way back over a hundred years ago.

  “I think I’ve just found a prettier view. Too bad you can’t see it,” he said casually, in a near-whisper. But she heard every word.

  Turning, she snickered at
his lack of uniform, no hat tucked under his arm because he wore flip flops and shorts that came just to the tops of his knees. His well-developed calf muscles were covered with dark hair. His white V-neck tee shirt was so bright she nearly needed shades, and he had a pair of sunglasses tucked into the bottom of the V. His day-old stubble was distracting, as was the drip of sweat that trickled from under his chin and down between his collarbone to parts unknown. Part of the tee shirt had stuck to his chest and abdomen below.

  He uncrossed his arms and angled his head, waiting for a response. “You think I look funny?”

  She gave him a graceful smile worthy of an island princess of great lineage. “No, Trace. I was thinking about—”

  “How nice it would be to go down to the beach,” Linda interrupted, pushing the big, hulking SEAL aside. “Are you game, or do my stories of sex on the white sand make you itch?” She wiggled her eyebrows, oblivious to the scene she’d just crashed. “I’m in the mood for an umbrella drink and some bare bodies to gaze at.” She opened her red suitcase up and pulled out a red beach bag. “I’m changing into my bikini now,” she said as she removed her top and revealed a red bra with pink lipstick kisses on it.

  Trace was out of there so fast Gretchen wasn’t sure he even got a glimpse of the bra.

  “You like?” Linda fondled the satin cups of her bra.

  Gretchen laughed. “You’re the only person I know who matches her luggage with her underwear. Very clever.”

  “You have no idea, dear. I had to hunt and hunt. But thank God for Amazon. Now they show me everything pink and red with hearts and kisses.”

  Gretchen watched through the window as another van pulled up to the front porch and several people piled out. Trace greeted several of the guys and was introduced to a pair of very cute twenty-somethings, and instantly, she was disappointed seeing his wide smile and ready hug.

  Linda peered over her shoulder.

  “Oh, Gretchen. Here I was jealous of you, since you’ve obviously attracted Trace’s attention. And now we both have competition from those little sweet tarts.”

  Gretchen looked away from the window and walked to her bed. “No worries. I’m looking for a super rich investment mogul who owns his own island and only likes women over thirty.”

  “Good idea, Gretchen. SEAL’s don’t make that much, but I understand the sex is worth it.” She examined her clothes, trying to pick out a combination. Most everything in her suitcase was red.

  Gretchen was slightly irritated. “Is everything about sex with you?”

  “Yup. Sex sells.” She held up a red and pink flowered sarong and examined herself in the mirror, holding the fabric under her chin. “You like this on me?”

  “How do you feel wearing it?”

  “Positively like a cougar waiting to pounce. But the answer to your question is, yes, maybe. It’s called the law of attraction.” Her beautiful brown eyes sparkled. Gretchen knew she was about to get a lesson she hadn’t asked for.

  “So let’s have it,” Gretchen urged as she sat on the bed, rummaging through her own clothes.

  “Everything is sales. We are selling each other right now.”

  “Come again?” She was seriously concerned for Linda’s state of mind.

  “We don’t know each other very well. Just met today, right?”

  “Yes. On the plane.”

  “Exactly. Tyler and Kate met on the plane. They fell in love on that plane that day, remember?”

  Gretchen frowned. “Linda, I hope you haven’t gotten the wrong message here.”

  “Oh, silly. I love women, but not in bed. But I love getting silly drunk with my women friends. Just the best thing in the world. The funny banter and gossip. I can tell you and I could do a serious drunk together and wind up feeling like we’ve been sisters our whole lives.”

  “You are close to Kate that way now?”

  “No, silly. She has the baby, she has Tyler, and she’s not the same as me temperament-wise. Now, Tyler? If he wasn’t my brother, OMG, OMG, he would be so much fun. And we did have fun in high school. He helped fix me up big time.”

  “Not the other way around?”

  “He never liked any of my slutty friends.” She gave Gretchen a smirk. “His loss, if you ask me. Those girls would have treated him fine and worshiped the ground he walked on, too. But he fixed me up with tamer guys, and I got what I could out of them. I mean, drop dead gorgeous gentlemen, you know. Wouldn’t touch me until they thought it was right. Nice guys. Oh man, I bolloxed them up something good.”

  “Bolloxed?”

  “Messed with their brains. You know, stroked their ego, and then I just stroked them. I loved blowing their minds.”

  “And they never called you back.”

  Linda dropped another piece of lingerie and stared back at Gretchen. “Sadly, no. How did you know that?”

  “Because I don’t think men like to be chased. They like to do the hunting.”

  “But so do I.”

  “Then hunt for something else. Don’t hunt a man. At least, if I did it, it wouldn’t work. You have to just be there, and you hope that they get the message. Nice guys are worth it.”

  “I have no patience. But you see, that’s why we’re going to be great friends. You can teach me a lot about men. Have you had a lot of them?”

  Gretchen looked at her hands folded in her lap. She would have to tell Linda the truth.

  “I only had sex with one man, and I married him.”

  “Gretchen!” Linda ran over to the bed, pulled her up to standing position, and gave her a big hug. “You poor thing! Starved, absolutely starved! That’s so unfair, sweetie.” She touched Gretchen’s chin and looked at her sorrowfully. “My heart is breaking for you, Gretchen.” She actually produced tears, which Gretchen thought was miraculous.

  Grabbing Linda’s hands, which still held her, and pushing her away slightly, Gretchen regained her composure back. “I’ve been raising three beautiful daughters. I’ve had boyfriends, and we’ve done some things, you know, but no sex. I just don’t want to have sex with someone I couldn’t marry. I know it’s crazy, but that’s the way I was brought up. Or, at least, that’s the way I thought I was.”

  Linda stepped back. “There’s a story there,” she said, pointing to Gretchen.

  “Oh yes, there really is. Sometime when we’re having those umbrella drinks, I’ll tell you the tale my mother told me about the time Tyler and Kate decided to get married.”

  “Spill.”

  “I’m not going to right now. But Kate and I have different fathers.”

  “So your mother slept around.”

  “Linda, I’ll tell you when I’m ready.” Gretchen was getting irritated with her again. “But no, it wasn’t anything like that. If you could get your mind out of the gutter, you might actually learn there are some really decent and cool love stories out there, and they’re way more about love than sex.”

  Linda’s eyes widened in surprise.

  Gretchen made a beeline for the hallway so she could hit the restroom before she erupted into tears and ran smack into Trace Bennett’s chest.

  “Hold on there, darlin’” he said in that low growl while his deep blue eyes made her heart flutter. “I had no idea you wanted to dance so bad. You need to wait until I get my dancin’ shoes on. These don’t move.”

  She looked down at his toes, and they both watched him wiggle them. But during the show, he’d slipped his arms around her waist and her palms had spread out on his wet tee shirt. Her lips were close to his Adam’s apple and the dark scruffiness of his jawline. And they were so very close to his lips… if she’d just raise her chin up, which she did. He whispered something soft, and she didn’t dare listen because her spine had gone all tingly. If she wasn’t imagining things, something was taking firm shape between them as he pressed her to him until their thighs touched through fabric.

  “You smell like heaven, Gretchen. Like a starlit night on a beach.”

  “I didn’t think s
tars smelled like anything,” she said as she waited and let him angle down toward her mouth. She was hungry for him, but just before he could cover her lips, the hallway filled with chatty newcomers.

  “Well, I can see some people are deep into their vacation already,” said Ollie. He was overflowing with suitcases, and he dropped one, which was quickly picked up by one of the twenty-somethings accompanying him.

  Gretchen immediately pulled away, and she and Trace left a wide gap for the entourage to pass. The “twins” gave her a smile that hinted at warmth but was laced with something else. Ollie gave her a wink and sashayed between them all, one case above his head.

  Trace had his hands in his shorts, checking out his wiggling toes. When their eyes finally connected, Gretchen saw the fire was still there, and her pulse quickened. When he gave her a lopsided smile and rubbed his chin, she nearly fainted.

  More people were coming up the stairs. Trace gracefully hopped across the hallway to stand next to Gretchen. He bent down and whispered, “To be continued, my dear.”

  She watched him maneuver around suitcase-carrying, well-built men and young women as he made his way down the stairs. Gretchen retreated to the bedroom, closed the door, leaned against it, and closed her eyes.

  “Well done.”

  She’d forgotten Linda was still in the room. With her breathing ragged and embarrassment stabbing her stomach lining with little pitchforks, she felt exposed and without defenses.

  “You’ve got it bad, sweetie.”

  She knew Linda was right. But she had to attempt to show she was casual about the whole thing—if she could. “Just not used to the guy flirting with me before I’m ready. I’m way out of practice.” She saw Linda nodding in response. Gretchen was proud of herself. Her comment was nearly one hundred percent truthful.

  “He’s a babe magnet, all right. I’ll grant you that. I’m going to honor your territory.”

  “Linda, no need for that. I’m a big girl. Just rusty.” Then she stopped herself. “Actually, that was a fib. I never was any good at it.”