The worst thing about the guy, as Devon remembered, is that he automatically thought any girl would fall down on her knees and beg him to do the nasty with him. Devon had been so bold as to ask him one time about suicides increasing in the military from a documentary she’d seen. His answer was, “Not the SEALs. Hell, why would we deprive the ladies of some fun? We’re God’s gift to the female population.”
He’d given her that big goofy smile, overly confident and irritating as heck. In Sonoma County, she never ran across such bravado and just sheer braggadocios.
It had turned her stomach. She’d rolled her eyes and when she looked back at him he had the nerve to wink!
But later, she had a hard time putting the sight of his hard body and muscular arms, easily twice the size of anyone else she knew, out of her mind. And yes, she did dream about him that night. That kind of pissed her off.
All that was when she was twenty and completely inexperienced. Hell, she still was a virgin at twenty-five, a secret she guarded with her life.
No, sexual confidence wasn’t something she’d had a chance to develop, but she’d make damned sure, if Sophie forced her to talk to him about his sister’s estate, Mr. Nicholas Dunn would never know that little factoid.
She’d become a successful realtor and made enough to support herself with a decent lifestyle. She’d mentored under Sophie originally. But Sophie gave up her career in real estate to go into the nursery business. Devon became the professional, while Sophie got her hands dirty tending to a failing business. They remained best friends.
She parked her Lexus a distance away from the rock-spraying beast of a vehicle Nick was probably driving, and secretly hoped he’d not be there.
Her luck wasn’t that good.
He still sucked all the air out of the room. He was standing at Sophie’s little sink washing dishes. And he was singing, rocking his hips from side to side. Was this the song from Flashdance?
“I’m a maniac—“
She couldn’t resist breaking in.
“Well, look at you, so domestic?” She crossed her arms, tilted her head and enjoyed the surprised expression coming from this normally self-composed brute. He hit the water faucet with his fist to slam it shut and dried his hands. Then he slowly perused the length of her body, leaving no part unexplored. His emerald green eyes were blazing.
Still the same cocky son of a bitch. Devon knew he didn’t care if he got caught ogling her, so confident was he that a rejection wasn’t anywhere in his future.
He leaned his butt against the tiled countertop. Then he threw down the towel and mirrored Devon’s stance with crossed arms. “Been awhile, Dev.”
“Devon.”
“Right. Still don’t like me, do you?”
“You’re a good judge of character,” she answered. “I’ll give you that.”
“You’re just as scrappy as Sophie told me you’d be.” He smiled as if his approval mattered to her.
“I’ll just leave you to your work, then.”
“Oh the dishes are done. I was going to sweep the floor and then wash all the windows. But you go ahead and do all that computer stuff you realtors do. Way beyond me.”
In a huff, Devon sat down at the plank tabletop and opened up her computer. She set the manila folders she’d brought to the side, stacked on top of each other. She crossed her legs and ran her fingers through the hair at the back of her scalp, took a deep breath and logged on to the internet, doing a property search. She tried to focus.
The soft sweeping sound of Sophie’s broom brushing against the cool concrete floor of the shop was distracting. Didn’t help much that Nick wrestled the handle with such force, he could almost break it. His forearms were nearly as big as her thighs. His shoulders moved with sinewy grace underneath smooth tanned skin. His mop of blond hair went in all directions. He tickled her ankles as he extended the broom under the table and swept the area around her.
“Does that bother you?” he asked. He’d leaned his chin on the end of the broomstick.
“As in, were you trying to?”
“Nope. It was an honest question.” The sparkle in his eyes made him out to be a liar. Devon knew there wasn’t anything honest about him, except for the way his animal magnetism was making her lose her focus.
“You want some coffee, Devon?” he asked.
“Wow. You clean the dishes, sweep the floor, and you make coffee? The Navy must have trained you well. What did they do get some of the senior wives to come in and give you pointers?”
“I don’t need any pointers.”
In spite of herself, she blushed. Damn.
He turned, fired up the coffee grinder and started a fresh pot, all with his back to her. He had a variety of Celtic crosses and symbols poking up above the collar of his T-shirt. She could see discoloration from beneath the white cotton fabric, showing dark tats stains on his shoulders and upper arms. One long stream of tats looking like footprints of a three-legged toad was inked on his right inside forearm. She studied the enormous V of his upper torso leading to the small waist, his deltoids and lats so tight they looked like they’d hurt. In spite of herself, she wondered what they would feel like—
He caught her staring as he turned around and stealthily crossed the room with two mugs of the hot black coffee. Placing one next to her computer, within arms reach, he took a seat right across from her.
“I dare you to say there’s a better cup of coffee anywhere.” His deep green eyes were almost iridescent.
She sipped the steamy liquid and shrugged, going back to ignoring him. She continued to search the computer lists she had opened. Nick slurped his coffee. She could feel his eyes still focused on her.
She didn’t care how long he stared. She wasn’t going to return the gaze. Didn’t the guy have any shame? Or, maybe this is how he chose to process the pain he must be feeling with Sophie’s illness. Either way, it was making her feel like she was spinning out of control.
She frowned, consulted her yellow-lined tablet and kept tapping on the keys. Her red nail polish matched her red suit, but now she wished she’d worn black.
One of her heels fell off and plopped to the ground because her legs were crossed. She briefly looked up at him, only to see the wiggle of his eyebrows, and the unspoken offer to crawl under the table and place the patent leather pump back on her foot. That would mean he’d have to touch her calf as he adjusted the shoe. He’d hold her ankle with both his dinner plate hands, and his fingers—
Feeling very much like an insect impaled with a pin in a collection box, she inhaled loudly, stuffed her foot into her errant shoe, and picked up the pace of her typing.
He watched her silently.
The room was beginning to heat up. The late fall weather pattern was growing hot, which meant some long sweaty nights with the crickets chirping madly, since Sophie’s house didn’t have air conditioning. Neither did the nursery. She sighed, blowing air up to her bangs.
“You should have worn something sleeveless.”
“What do you care what I wear?”
“I just wanted you to be comfortable.”
“Oh really? Is that why you sit there and make an obnoxious ass of yourself while you watch me work? You think that’s some kind of fun?”
“I enjoy watching beautiful women.”
“Really? Women who don’t know you? Women who don’t care in the slightest anything about you? Sounds like a rather pathetic way to spend a few minutes.”
“Not from over here.”
She shot up to her feet. “Enough. Nick. Go outside. Make yourself useful. I’m sure there are some weeds to pull or some walkways to rake.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He took his mug and swaggered outside into the afternoon sunlight. She found herself still gasping for air at the sight of him making his way lazily across the parking lot.
Devon’s heart rate was thumping wildly. A bead of sweat trickled down between her breasts.
Whatever it was she’d dreamt
about five years ago was still there. Lurking. Waiting to pounce.
Chapter 3
Nick sipped his coffee and looked out over the tattered nursery. Dark green cloth covered the nursery’s frame, letting only bits of light through. Nick found it depressing, as if a negative pall had fallen over the place. He couldn’t honestly understand what Sophie saw in it, except for the location—those beautiful hills beyond. He’d hiked Bennett Peak ever since he could remember. Those were happy days.
He continued to look for something that would explain why Sophie loved it so much. The state of disrepair would certainly telegraph to anyone that the nursery was a financial failure. He thought it was odd that now she was finally going to do the right thing, now that she was dying.
Sis, you should have done it sooner. You could have had a life.
But he knew that line of thinking was off-purpose. It wouldn’t help him navigate the shoals of his own feelings where the deaths of his parents lay stuck upon the shore. Sophie had been his lifeline whenever he felt morose or defeated in spirit. No matter where he went, his sister was always the one he came home to, and now he would be completely alone.
Better buck up and get used to it. You can’t afford distractions. Distractions get you killed. Make you do stupid things.
He walked under the shade, brushing the tops of green and red lettuce starts with the tips of his fingers. He looked at chrysanthemums getting ready to burst forth in fall colors of burgundy, gold and yellow. Fruit trees were beginning to lose their leaves. Rose leaves were yellowed and the roses sparse, crumbling in his fingers as he touched them.
He turned to face the opened doorway of the nursery office, and could barely make out Devon’s red suit glowing from the shadows inside. Something about her brought out the worst in him. He had to admit, he’d been a complete dick. Yes, she had caught him in a lighter moment, washing dishes, and singing, no less, trying to get his mind off his sister’s illness and her future demise, but damn, she had to go rub his nose in it. He definitely was off his game when it came to women these days. And this one had him questioning his own abilities.
The pea gravel walkways crunched under the weight of his canvas slip-ons. Several plant flats were dried and wilted already, and Nick concluded Sophie had not done her morning watering. He found the overhead sprayer turned on the water and gave a good soak to the lettuces and the cole crops of broccoli, cauliflower and cabbage first, then went down the rows of other vegetables, annual flowers and some groundcover flats. The air was warming up, so he removed his shirt and worked in his cargo pants.
Next he watered the roses and several fruit trees that looked nearly dead.
He found the musty smell of the wet soil oddly pleasant. After spending months in sandy places overseas, wishing for a swimming pool or long hot, private bath, he enjoyed the sight and smell of the green vegetation before him, covered in droplets of life-giving water.
He turned around and found Devon leaning against the doorframe of the office, arms crossed, eyeing him. He returned to his watering and let her look. He wasn’t embarrassed this time. He told himself to ignore her completely and not try to read anything into the little gesture.
Women are dangerous.
Devon watched at the manly specimen before her. Now he was not only sucking the air out of the room, but he had managed to suck the air out of the whole valley. His huge tanned shoulders and muscled arms hoisted the hose and showered water over everything. He took his time. He was meticulous, filling every dry spot with moisture. She could only imagine what kind of exquisite care a man like this could give a woman, if he were of the mind to. If she’d let him.
He was clearly not the man she’d expected, washing dishes and brewing coffee. And now he was tending the dying garden of her best friend. She wished she could help her friend in much the same way. But those days were gone and those words of regret and apology had been spoken, and now it was the end of things. End of their relationship. With Sophie gone, Devon realized she’d have no one.
He’d been smiling when he turned around and caught her watching him. He’d told her he liked watching her too, but of course she’d rejected him, and the idea. But now, just the way he turned back to his work the light dancing through the fine water mist in the greenhouse, watching this hunk of a guy tend to his sister’s heart project, the thought he might like to watch her seemed just fine.
Sighing, she removed her jacket, unbuttoning each button slowly as she watched him. He was extra attentive to the flora. Devon guessed he didn’t really care if she watched him or not. Or, maybe he just didn’t notice.
She laid the red jacket over a wire table. Her white shell underneath was damp from the heat. She blew down her front, holding the thin material between her thumb and forefinger, fluttering it, sending little waves of cool air to her face and then walked outside in his direction.
She felt like she was a moth to the flame. He was the first man she’d ever met that literally pulled her in his direction. The hissing of the silver droplets of water mesmerized her. Watching the cords of muscles flex and extend under his smooth flesh made the tats seem like cartoon characters that had come to life. It also made her want to touch him.
She was within four feet of him when he turned quickly and sprayed her with water. She jumped, looking down at the way her shell clung to her skin, revealing her white lace bra underneath. Then she saw her favorite pair of red patent leather shoes covered in droplets of water. She was headed straight for anger, having felt he surely did the maneuver on purpose. But he stopped her.
He’d released the hose, but it was still spraying everywhere, including getting her with a second wave.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were there.” He was searching for a towel or something to dry her off and found a dirty rag. She got her heels unstuck from the muddy gravel ground and backed up with her hands out in front of her.
“No. Stay away. I’m fine.”
Like hell she was? Her favorite shoes were ruined, her hair and chest-soaking wet. She must have looked like a drowned rat. He’d humiliated her. And now he was going to try to make some lame excuse it was an accident?
Mister Masterful. Bull shit.
She didn’t trust his pained expression. This overly-confident-testosterone-stuffed-performance-enhanced-self-proclaimed superhero was mean to women. That was a fact. He didn’t play fair. And here, she’d been about to apologize to him for being such a cold bitch. She would never utter an I’m sorry in his presence.
Ever.
She nearly made it across the driveway to the office when Sophie arrived in her Subaru station wagon. But she wasn’t driving. Some guy with arms almost as big as Nick’s was at the wheel. Sophie slowly got out of the car on the passenger side, and leaned against it. She was out of breath and very pale.
But she smiled that little wicked smile she used to do when she was well. The smile that told Devon they were about to have an adventure, or get into trouble, or do something they’d laugh about for years.
“I see you’ve begun to play with my brother. Don’t try to take him down. He’s bigger.”
Nick was having trouble turning off the water in the nursery. The faucet handle had dropped to the ground. Water spewed everywhere. He swore as the hose seemed to have a mind of its own and began to walk like a cobra, drenching him and everything around him. He finally found a wrench and shut off the valve, hanging the limp hose on the overhead spray rig. He emerged soaking wet, shaking his head.
The other guy was having a hard time containing himself. He began to howl, doubling over.
“You shut the fuck up,” Nick said, pointing his index finger at him.
The other guy was really enjoying this. “Leave you alone with a woman, and what do you do? Make a damned fool of yourself.”
Nick glared at him.
“Never thought I’d see the day when a hose would get the better of you.”
Devon’s anger subsided a bit as she saw how her attacker be th
e brunt of so much laughter. She almost could enjoy watching it, seeing how embarrassed he was. Some small revenge.
Devon carefully helped Sophie into the house without getting her too wet, while the two men stood outside. She could hear Nick trying to explain himself. Every other word was damn, fuck or freaking.
“So, you two are alone for an hour, and you immediately get into a water fight. Just like when we were kids.”
“No, Sophie. It wasn’t like that. He—”
“He likes you. Can’t you see that?”
“What? He just sprayed me with water.”
Sophie sighed and sat on a chair at the table, but her dark purple lips were involuntarily smiling. “Don’t you remember grammar school? There was this one Sunday at church. My friend and I were swinging in the yard between services. These two boys we liked pelted us with plums. Stained our dresses and made us cry. We ran in to tell our teacher who laughed and said, “Don’t you know that’s all boys know how to do at this age? This means they like you.”
It was good to see Sophie laugh. It had been awhile. Devon dared a quick glance out to the parking lot as Nick was wicking away water on his chest with a rag. She still couldn’t keep her eyes off him.
Sophie had followed her gaze. “Give him a chance. He’s the best thing since the Fourth of July.” With a wink she put her palm to Devon’s cheek. “Just a chance. Let him show you what he’s really made of.”
Before she could respond to her best friend, the two men entered the room.
“Ah, Devon,” Sophie began, “want you to meet Nick’s friend, Marc Beale. He’s also one of the guys from SEAL Team 3,” Sophie motioned to Marc, who stepped forward, bowed his head slightly.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“Ma’am?” Devon sputtered. Nick’s presence was flustering her.
Everyone backed up a step. Sophie rose to get a glass of water at the sink. Devon realized she’d perhaps been a tad loud. But her mouth was running like a wild horse and she was powerless to stop it.
SEAL the Deal Page 2