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Hot SEALs: Guard Dog (Kindle Worlds) (Stone Hard SEALs Book 3)

Page 11

by Sabrina York


  Mason snorted a laugh, but he didn’t make Lola move. Instead, he took Pansy’s hand and held it, stroked her palm, there in the darkness.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “Me? Fine.”

  “Really? You looked pensive tonight. Are you worried about Bowles?”

  “No.” Steven had barely crossed her mind. “I was thinking about us.”

  “Mmm. My favorite topic.”

  She chuckled. “Mine too. I just couldn’t help wondering…”

  “What.”

  “How we…fit.”

  His thumb stilled. “How we fit?” He leaned up and stared down at her. “You’re questioning how we fit?”

  Good lord, there was such anguish in his tone. She cupped his cheek. “You don’t like my lifestyle. You said so.”

  He seemed to pale. “Pansy, sweetheart, a relationship is compromise. Making things work. If we want to make it work, we will.”

  “Are you sure? Are you sure you wouldn’t hate it? All the parties and the crowds and the schmoozing?”

  “I could tolerate…some of it.”

  A grudging admission, but it lightened her mood. “Some of it?”

  “Sure. Especially if we…negotiate terms.”

  A ribbon of lust scuttled through her at his tone. “Terms?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “What kind of terms?”

  “Come here and I’ll show you.”

  He did move the dog then; she was not pleased to be dumped on the carpet.

  But she knew better than to hop back on the bed. There was far too much negotiating going on.

  Pansy spent the next few days surrounded by friends, buffeted with laughter and falling deeper and deeper in love with a tall, handsome ex-SEAL. By the time the day of the vote rolled around she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

  She was certain he felt the same.

  They just had one more hurdle to cross.

  She knew she’d done her best to convince their major shareholders to vote with her against Steven’s proposal, but she worried that, as news of her untimely death leaked out, some of them might have changed their minds. And if they were voting by proxy, she could already have lost them.

  Though she wanted to contact them to tell them she was okay, Mason advised against it. The last thing they wanted was for Steven to know she was still alive. At least until the DA had made a decision.

  There had been no news yet.

  Her palms were damp as they drove to the Bella Coronado hotel where the meeting would take place. She sat in the back, dressed to the nines in full Pansy Hightower kit. Lola, tucked in her purse, wore a matching outfit. Pansy was sandwiched between Dane and Mason, which made her feel very small indeed. Eli and Sander sat in the front, discussing the parameters of the ballroom, where they would be posted and how and when Pansy should appear.

  But she wasn’t paying attention.

  Her mind was spinning

  This was it. The moment of truth. This was the day she either won her mother’s company back…or lost everything. Who was she without FlyTower? What would she be? Could she—

  “Pansy? Sweetheart? We’re here.”

  Her head snapped up. Lola yipped as she squeezed her purse a little too tightly.

  “Sweetheart? Are you okay”

  “Yes.” She patted her hair. “I’m fine.”

  “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” A lame attempt to calm her nerves, but much appreciated.

  The car pulled up into the arched drive of the hotel and a cluster of photographers glanced up. When four huge men wearing suits and dark glasses stepped out, they straightened, and when Pansy emerged, with Lola tucked in her trademark purse, they went wild. Flashbulbs popped and camera shutters whirred. Their bellowed questions floated around her.

  Silent and serene—and surrounded by her guardian angels—she made her way up the steps and into the plush lobby.

  Heads turned—she was used to it.

  Several people gushed, “Ohmygod, I thought she was dead,” and she tried not to smile.

  As a unit, they headed to the ballroom where the FlyTower Inc. Annual Meeting was being held. Her escort fell behind her as Pansy pushed through the door.

  Steven was on the stage, in the middle of an impassioned plea—some gobbledygook about a more leveraged platform for reaching the masses. And then he saw her. He lost his train of thought, babbled a little.

  The microphone screeched.

  Noting his stare, the assemblage turned.

  Murmurs rose.

  Pansy threw back her shoulders and marched down the center aisle to the stage, aware of the sight they must have made, she and her warriors. As she made her way up the stairs, Steven rediscovered his senses.

  “I…why… Pansy. Darling. I’m…so happy you are not dead.”

  He actually sounded sincere, but the fury in his eyes was sincere too. She was glad to have Mason at her side.

  When Steven glanced at him, he blanched. He went paler still as he noticed the other men with her.

  “Are you, Steven?” she asked, loudly enough for all to hear. “Are you happy?”

  “Yes, of course.” He stepped closer, presumably to hug her, and found himself facing a wall. Mason’s chest.

  A growl resonated across the stage and Steven stepped back.

  “I, ah, I was just telling the shareholders about your mother’s dearest wish.”

  “And what was that?”

  He forced his features into a pleasant arrangement, though she did not find it pleasant in the least. “Why, to reach new markets.”

  “Are you talking about your plan? Your plan to cheapen our product? To target lower-end markets?”

  “To expand our reach…”

  “That was not my mother’s vision.” She turned to the audience. “You all knew her. You knew what her intention was when she started this company. It was not selling to big-box stores and bargain basements. FlyTower is a high-end, quality brand that is affordable for young professionals and seniors alike. We are classy, trendy and elegant.” She glared at Steven. “Not cheap. Keep that in mind when you vote.”

  He lowered the mic. “Pansy, can we talk? In private?”

  “No.” This, from Mason. A snarl.

  Steven glared at him, but only for a second. He turned back to her and fixed a charming smile on his face. “Pansy, darling—”

  Another snarl.

  “I just want to explain.”

  “Explain what? Why you tried to have me killed?”

  A gasp rounded the room.

  Steven reared back and clutched at his pearls—or he would have, had he been wearing any. His expression was one of wounded outrage. “I most certainly did not.”

  She shook her finger at him. “Yes you did.”

  A bustle at the door captured her attention and she glanced that way as a coterie of police officers pushed into the boardroom, accompanied by an exquisitely dressed woman in a Dior business suit; she was someone Pansy recognized, but couldn’t place.

  And then it hit her. She’d seen this woman on the news. She was the District Attorney. A cadre of news reporters with cameras swarmed behind her.

  Her voice rang out as she marched toward the stage. “Steven Bowles, you are under arrest.”

  Steven eeped. “Under arrest?”

  “For the murder of Marla Hightower and the attempted murder of Pansy Hightower.”

  A hush rippled through the audience. Knowing her stockholders, they were lapping this drama up like cream.

  “I didn’t kill anyone!”

  She shouldn’t have been watching the crowd. She should have been paying attention the threat in the room. The one and only threat.

  With no warning, Steven grabbed her. She cried out in surprise and revulsion—who wouldn’t, he was revolting—and then fought against him. The advancing officers and Mason’s team all pulled their weapons.
Steven tightened his hold on her and yanked her before him, using her as a human shield.

  To her horror, he wrapped a hand around her neck and pressed his thumb against her windpipe.

  “Back away, or I’ll kill her. I swear.” His grip was tight, his body damp with sweat. Panic trilled in his voice.

  She shot a look at Mason. He was furious. She’d never seen so ferocious a man. His muscles were tight, his cheek bunched. His pulse throbbed in a vein on his forehead.

  His weapon, held in two hands, tracked Steven’s every move as he pulled her across the stage, toward the curtains that marked the fire exit.

  “Back away!” His scream was manic, panicked. His hold tightened.

  Pain shot through her as his fingers gouged her. She clutched at his hands, scrabbled and scratched, fighting for breath, he pressed harder. Her lungs ached. Her vision began to dim.

  She could not allow herself to pass out. If she did, she might never wake up again. Steven had nothing to lose at this point. He would kill her if her could. She fought for consciousness.

  But she feared she couldn’t hold out much longer—

  A low growl rippled from her bag, then a yip and then a snarling, snapping sound. Steven released a high-pitched squeal—and he released her.

  Thank God!

  Pansy collapsed to her knees gasping for breath, only barely aware of a rush of movement. First, Mason whipping by in a blur. His fist slamming into Steven’s face. Steven crumpling. Then an army of uniforms surrounding them.

  Steven was wailing still, howling and caterwauling. Something that sounded like, “She bit me. That bitch bit me.”

  She hadn’t. Had she? It really wasn’t her style after all. But her mind was fuzzy, her senses dulled. Nothing made any sense.

  Mason knelt before her and cupped her cheek. “Are you all right? Sweetheart, are you all right?”

  “Did I bite him?” she asked.

  She didn’t remember biting him, but he kept yelling it, so she must have.

  Mason chuckled. Kissed her. “Lola did.”

  Pansy blinked. “Lola bit him?”

  “Yeah. I think she got his nipple.”

  “Oh. She leaned back and peeped into her purse to find Lola licking her chops. “Good girl.”

  “She is. She is a good girl,” Mason said, petting the dog.

  And Lola, for once, let him.

  Mason leaned back on the pillows and stared out the floor-to-ceiling widow of the Princess Suite of the Bella Coronado Hotel, staring at the dawn dancing over the Pacific. It was such a fucking relief to have it all over.

  To have Pansy in his arms. To have Steven in jail. To have Lola spending the night with Lily and Ryder.

  It had been an amazing night. They’d made love over and over again. Then they’d ordered room service, one of everything—except condoms—and done it again. They’d christened the shower, the sofa, the balcony.

  Yeah. It was amazing.

  It was what he wanted. For now. Forever.

  Pansy stirred and he glanced at her, his gaze captured by her beauty.

  She’d let him tie her up—really tie her up—and she’d enjoyed it. She’d insisted they try it again and soon, but frankly, he was wiped.

  “How are you doing?” she asked, reaching beneath the covers with a grin. She found him. Discovered his depleted condition. A lip pushed out in a pout.

  He laughed and kissed her. “You drained me.”

  “How disappointing.”

  He growled at her. “Behave.”

  She wiggled against him. “I am behaving.” Then her teasing look faded, replaced with one that made his heart soften, made his soul ache. “Mason Steele?”

  “Yes, Pansy Hightower?”

  “What are we going to do tomorrow?”

  It wasn’t the real question and they both knew it. It was all the other tomorrows in question.

  “What would you like to do?”

  “Be with you.”

  He kissed her. “I want to be with you too.”

  “Would you come home with me? Stay with me? Live with me?”

  He forced a laugh and an outraged look. “Are you asking me to move in with you Miss Hightower?”

  She nodded. “Mmm hmm.”

  “I’m not that kind of man. I don’t just shack up with random women.”

  “I am hardly random.” She sniffed. “I am exceptional.”

  “Yes. You are. But my mother would roll over in her grave if I moved in with you.”

  “Oh, but she wouldn’t have any problems with this?” She fluttered her fingers at the absolutely ravaged bedsheets.

  “She would never have seen this,” he chortled.

  But her expression gave him pause. “Seriously? You won’t move in with me?”

  “No. I won’t.”

  She flinched.

  “Not until we’re married.”

  She sat bolt upright. “Married?”

  Her horror took him aback. Surely that was what they’d been talking about, wasn’t it? And then he realized why she was so dismayed. His heart lurched. “Don’t worry. We’ll have a pre-nup, sweetheart. I’m not marrying you for your money.”

  She blinked. “Money? What?”

  His brow quirked. “Isn’t that what you were worried about?”

  “Hell no. A marriage is a marriage. We share everything. I was just thinking about how long it will take to plan a wedding.”

  A slow grin rose on his face. “Plan a wedding? About five minutes.”

  She gaped at him.

  He held up a hand and ticked off his fingers. “Get on a plane to Vegas. Rent a car. Get a license…and get married in the Drive Through Chapel. Easy as pie.”

  She crossed her arms; his attention snagged on her breasts. Beautiful, they were. “I am not getting married in a drive through chapel. We will have a large wedding with caterers and flowers and a gorgeous wedding dresses studded with diamonds and pearls—“

  “Dresses? How many do you need?”

  She shot him a grin. “Two. One for me and one for Lola.”

  “She’s coming to the wedding?”

  “She’s the Maid of Honor.” She tapped her lip. “I think she needs a tiara.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” She shot him a grin. “But Lola’s dress will have to be eggshell, I think.”

  “Um… eggshell?”

  “Of course. Lola never wears white after Labor Day, silly.”

  He wasn’t sure if she was teasing him or not, so he just frowned and said, “I like the drive through wedding idea better.”

  She growled and pushed him back down on the bed. He allowed it because he liked the feel of her breasts against him, and he loved her kiss and he loved her.

  “I am not getting married in a car,” she said through a very distracting kiss.

  And she most certainly did not.

  Lola looked stunning.

  In her tiara.

  The End

  Read about Catherine’s exotic Hong Kong adventure in the next installment of Hot SEALs: Stone Hard SEALs

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy to scorching romance. Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests.

  For more information, or to connect with Sabrina, visit SabrinaYork.Com

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  Books by Sabrina York

  CONTEMPORARY

  Stand Alone

  Heartbreak on a Stick (Contemporary Rom
ance)

  Stone Hard SEALs (Action-Packed Military Romance Duet)

  Tryst Island Series—Steamy Contemporary Romance

  Rebound Book 1

  Dragonfly Kisses Book 2

  Smoking Holt Book 3

  Heart of Ash Book 4

  Devlin’s Dare Book 5

  Parker’s Passion Book 6

  Wired Series—Steamy Contemporary Romance

  Adam’s Obsession Book 1

  Tristan’s Temptation Book 2

  Making Over Maris (FemDom) Book 2

  REGENCY

  Untamed Highlanders!

  Hannah and the Highlander Book 1

  Susana and the Scot Book 2

  Lana and the Laird Book 3

  Noble Passions Series—Steamy Regency

  Folly Book 1

  Dark Fancy Book 2

  Dark Duke Book 3

  Brigand Book 4

  Defiant Book 5

  FANTASY

  Lust Eternal

  COLLECTIONS

  Come Hell or High Water—12 Alarm Cowboys

  Lithium’s Rescue (Elite Metal Ghosts)

  Sterling’s Seduction (Elite Metal Collection)

  Tarnished Honor (The Incomparables: Heroes of Waterloo)

  The Real McCoy—in the Cowboy 12 Pack

  Whipped—in the WTRAFSOG Collection #8

  SHORT STORIES AND NOVELLAS

  Laird of her Heart—First Story in the Dundragon Highlander Time Travel Trilogy—Coming Soon

  Pool Man

  Extreme Couponing (Erotic Contemporary/BDSM)

  Fierce (One Night Stand, Decadent Publishing)

  Pushing Her Buttons (Erotic Contemporary/BDSM)

  Man Hungry (Erotic Contemporary)

  Rising Green (Erotic Horror)

  Snow Angels (Calendar Men Series from Decadent Publishing)

  Training Tess (Erotic Contemporary/BDSM)

  Trickery (Erotic Contemporary with Magical Elements)

  Check out all the Hot SEAL Kindle World Launch Authors!

  SEALed Fate (A Deep Six Security/Hot SEALs Crossover) by Becky McGraw

 

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