SEAL Encounter (SEAL Brotherhood)

by Hamilton, Sharon

  Kyle was uncomfortable talking about his buddy’s sex life. Probably because Kyle himself didn’t have one to speak of. Not that he hadn’t tried.

  “Nah.” Armando stared out the window and hardened his jaw. Kyle could see the disgust in his face. His comment had hit a nerve.

  “Hey, I’m sorry, man,” Kyle offered.

  Tell me, Armani. Give it up.

  Wincing, Armando peeled his eyes off the window opening and with detachment, took a slip of paper from his back pocket, unfolded it and placed it on the bed. “Here’s the address, Lanny. You should stop by tomorrow after our ProDev briefing. Give me time to get the place in order. I got an extra bedroom and you’re welcome to stay over. Anytime.”

  Kyle noted it wasn’t a clear offer to rent him a room. So, he’d be looking for an apartment with Fredo or, maybe he’d get his own place. Cooper lived at the beach in an RV. That wasn’t Kyle’s scene. “Thanks, Armani. Again, don’t want to intrude.”

  “No worries. I like being all domestic with you, Chief Petty Officer Lansdowne.”

  “You starting to like men now? You know I don’t go that way.”

  “I know. Thought perhaps I could help out in the female department. Being a Latin Lover has its advantages.”

  “Fuck you,” Kyle said as he punched Armando in the upper arm. “I found a peach in the airport in San Francisco. She was on our plane.”

  “So she’s here, in San Diego?”

  Kyle nodded. “Should have seen those legs.”

  Armando whistled. “Surprised Cooper didn’t get to her first.”

  “He was thinking about it.”

  “Not a good idea to take a girl your LPO has been eyeballing.”

  They looked at each other for a few seconds before Kyle jumped in. “So, you got plans for tonight?” he asked. Kyle noticed some of Armando’s darkness was gone.

  “Some liquid refreshment and some mindless sex. You?”

  “I was thinking the same thing.” Kyle worried he’d hit another cart full of bags, or walk into a door or something stupid. And get laughed at. He didn’t want to get laughed at.

  He wanted to get fucked.

  “What do you say we head over across,” Armando pointed to downtown San Diego, “and get us some coeds. Or perhaps nice girls who work at an office or something. Or maybe the goddess with the long legs. I’m tired of these Frog Hogs here. We can get a couple of rooms.”

  “Sounds good to me, man.” Kyle looked around his quarters that had taken him five minutes to set up. He doubted they had put anyone in here with him.

  But it probably wouldn’t make a lick of difference.

  Chapter 3

  Kyle and Armando walked down through the Gaslight district, peering into storefronts—ones they’d never frequent on their meager military salary. Several were beginning to close. The aromas of trendy Italian restaurants and steak houses made Kyle hungry. Just a week ago he and Cooper were in Afghanistan, patching up an 18-year-old kid who took a shot to the upper thigh, shattering his femur. He was going to surely lose his leg. And now Kyle was here. Looking for a woman with legs he would dream about for nights.

  Armando headed inside a bar and grill filling up with the usual weeknight crowd. Kyle found a table outside and took a seat while Armando made a trip to the head.

  He’s probably scoping out the merchandise.

  He thought maybe he should call Edie, a girl he spent time with on occasion. Edie wasn’t a very good talker, and that suited him just fine. She was a good kisser, and though not particularly exciting, she was clean and always willing. If he closed his eyes, she would become anyone he imagined. He didn’t like high maintenance girls. He considered himself easy going, as long as they liked lots of sex.

  But tonight he wanted something more. His thoughts drifted back to the blonde at the airport. He recalled the creamy texture of her upper thigh as she stepped into the waiting town car. Those legs were something else. Her neck and shoulders were smooth and begging to be kissed. Worshiped even. He knew how they would feel under his palms.

  Before the car took off, he had leaned forward, and thought perhaps she might look up at him through the blackened window, but she never turned his way. Her side profile revealed red pouty lips as she stared straight ahead. Those lips gave him an instant hard-on.

  He was getting another one right now just thinking about her.

  He fantasized about seeing her face and a whole lot more, spending an evening with her. Where would he take her? His room at the barracks?

  Hell no. All his worldly possessions tucked away in a Formica-topped dresser? Views of the inlet with bars on them?

  The beach used to be a nice place for him. But now, memories of running, balancing rubber boats on his head for so many days he had a bald spot that took a year to heal. No way would he take her anywhere near there. Kyle wondered how Cooper could stand to live at the beach in his souped up RV. Then again, Cooper was known for his toys, inventions and surveillance gadgets. When he wasn’t entertaining a lady, he was having the time of his life tinkering.

  The babemobile.

  Well, it worked for Cooper. Good for him. This lady wouldn’t want to go work out at Gunny’s Gym, a place smelling like rust and sweat. Frequented mostly by the SEAL community, both retired and active. He’d never seen a woman in there once. No way could he trust the guys that hung out there, either.

  Most likely she’d want a nice ride on the bay in one of those rentals that would cost him a month’s pay. Hearts and flowers. Music. Expensive lingerie…

  “Where’d you sail off to, Lansdowne?” Armando sat down in front of Kyle with a scowl.

  “No where.” It was the truth. Where the fuck was he going, after all?

  “Kyle, you sure you’re in the mood for this? The pickings are a little slim, but still decent for a Wednesday.” Armando followed that statement with a blazing smile, revealing all his perfect white teeth.

  “I’m good.” Kyle was relieved Armando had lightened up a bit. “I just…”

  “Hold on a sec.” Armando stood and answered a buzz on his cell, in Spanish. Kyle listened to a heated discussion, followed by some choice swear words he’d heard when they’d been stuck in some situation overseas. Rarely here in the good old U.S. of A.

  Something’s definitely wrong.

  Armando ended the call and shook his head. “Can’t even get back one day without all the drama.”

  “Family stuff, Armani?”

  “Not to worry, chief. But I’m going to have to bale on you.”

  “Now?” Kyle asked.

  “Well, I can drop you back at base, if you want, or…”

  “No, I’ll find a ride,” Kyle answered.

  “Yeah, I know you can. Just wondering if you will.” Armando leaned into him and whispered. “A man goes crazy if he doesn’t get enough, know what I’m sayin?”

  Kyle smirked. He’d told himself the same thing many times over.

  “Don’t have to go with the ring and the chocolates, man. What about Daisy, or Edie?”

  “I’m good. No worries. You just go take care of business.” Kyle frowned. “Call if I can help out in any way. And Armani,” he said as he stood up, “Keep your ass out of trouble, hear? I’ll see you tomorrow at ProDev.”

  He watched Armando weave himself through the crowd outside milling around the sidewalk, and then disappear into the early evening. A sudden chill fell over him with the premonition it might be the last time he’d see Armando.

  Alone again.

  “You want something to drink?” A young fresh face batted her big blue eyes, surprising Kyle. She held a round tray with a couple of empty glasses. He needed to get out of there.

  “I think I’m leaving,” Kyle said as he slipped her two dollars, and left.

  He scanned the faces and bodies in the crowd as he walked along the sidewalk. No one looked familiar.

  Good.

  No one he wanted to meet, either.

  Bad.

&nbs
p; Did he have some anti-girl bubble that followed him around lately? Women had always been nuts around him when he was younger. Tonight, no one looked twice.

  He put his hands in his jeans, and looked down at his canvas shoes with the tire retread soles. When he looked up, he saw her.

  She had come out of a high-end grocery store, bearing two packages. He was sure it was she, even though all he could see was her profile. Through her bulky sweatshirt he could see she was even bigger on top than he’d imagined at the airport. He fell in behind her to follow at a distance, hoping to get a glimpse of her face.

  He’d recognize that shapely rear and long legs anywhere. Those beautiful thighs were encapsulated in some worn jeans. The way she walked was confident, unmistakably her own style. Like a model. Her blonde hair was piled on top of her head. All mess-up and just-fucked looking. He liked that look.

  So, she cooks.

  He liked that, too. He followed her for a block, checking store windows, hoping to see a reflection of her face. Would be just his luck if this shapely goddess had a horse face. But he ruled it out as extremely unlikely as quickly as he thought about it. She didn’t have to be a real beauty, but somehow he knew she was. She had attracted a lot of attention at the airport, and she had a chauffeured driver and handsome companion.

  Nah, he knew she’d be a knockout, if he could just look at her, engage in a little conversation he’d be happy.

  A couple of Navy regulars rounded the corner in front of her and bumped right into the lady. Kyle sped up to come to her aid. She stepped quickly back, not losing her balance and avoided their fumbling apologies, complete with attempts to touch her. The guys were practically falling over themselves, fawning and apologizing.

  Yeah, she’s a looker. No question.

  Half disappointed he didn’t have to go into rescue mode, he glared at the trio as he passed by. When he looked back down the street, she was gone.

  Damn!

  Christy punched the stainless steel button for the twenty-second floor as the doors closed. She undid her hair, fluffed it up and repositioned the plastic clip securely. Though alone in the elevator, she couldn’t get over the sensation she was being followed. Like everywhere she went there were eyes on her.

  Unlocking the front door, she entered, shifting the packages with one thigh, and then setting them on the kitchen counter. She flipped on her satellite radio program and listened to a dreamy Celtic instrumental piece, while she stowed her basics—enough for three days exactly.

  Her cell phone rang.

  “Christy, this is Carl Simms from Patterson Realty.”

  “Hi there.”

  “I’ve started on the numbers you’ve asked me for. Thanks for leaving the key, by the way.”

  “No problem. So, what do you think it will sell for?” Christy asked.

  “Well, I usually do that in person. But I was thinking about your situation. We haven’t met, but you mentioned over the phone you were getting ready to start selling real estate in San Francisco.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, have you considered moving here to San Diego instead? Great place for young singles. I’d be happy to show you the ropes. We have a very productive office. Small. Not an agent factory.”

  “Well, I think I’ve pretty much made up my mind.” Christy felt her resolve wiggle as she said this.

  “I understand. Still, I’d like to invite you to our office meeting tomorrow at nine. Afterwards, we can meet and, if you’re still interested in selling, we can go over the paperwork. And the numbers.”

  “Office meeting?” she asked.

  “We go over new listings, recent sales. You’ll get a feel for what happens during a typical week, get to meet some of the other agents here.”

  “Well…”

  “Look, just consider it, okay? If I see you here at nine, I’ll introduce you. If not, come by at ten for our appointment. How does that sound?”

  “I’ll think about it, Mr. Simms. No promises.”

  “No promises. Bye.”

  But Christy knew right away she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to this place that had captivated her mother so. Until the mystery of why she felt she belonged here was revealed, she wasn’t in a hurry to return to San Francisco.

  She knew she’d be at the meeting tomorrow. And she also knew that her life would never be the same.

  The End

  If you would like to read how this story continues, you may purchase the full length novel Accidental SEAL by clicking this link:Accidental SEAL.

  Christy Nelson embarks on her new career in Real Estate by holding her first open house. Entering the wrong house, by accident, she finds the nude sleeping body of a young man.

  Navy SEAL Kyle Lansdowne, on a mission to find his AWOL Team buddy, is staying at his buddy’s home while investigating the disappearance. When someone breaks in, he takes protective measures. He doesn’t expect to find that a beautiful young woman is responsible for his teammate’s abduction.

  What starts out as a meeting by accident becomes a hot affair neither one is ready for. Kyle is conflicted about getting Christy involved in his mission, but his hand is forced when he learns the same San Diego gang responsible for his teammate’s abduction has kidnapped her.

  Battling a cadre of dirty law enforcements hell-bent on getting military equipment, especially state-of-the-art firepower, Kyle is forced to admit that he would die to protect her.

  Excerpt, Accidental SEAL:

  Chapter 1

  Christy Nelson worked to keep her breakfast down when Wayne Sommerville came lurking around her cubicle. He’d pestered her every day since she’d been introduced as the newest agent at the Patterson Realty sales meeting three days ago. His soft, flabby torso was repulsive, and those distinctive hair plugs, installed at an angle on Wayne’s shiny salmon-colored forehead, were distracting. Her gaze followed rows of black dots receding into his dyed-black hair. A life-sized version of Mr. King’s Chuckie.

  Wayne winked at her again, and her blood turned to ice.

  His horse teeth and foul breath could raise the dead. He’d made it clear he wanted to mentor her, but she suspected he had more in mind than real estate contracts and short sales. He was persistent, though. She’d give him that.

  He draped his bulky frame against the back of her chair. She wanted to duck for cover. The eerie need to protect her neck put her radar on high alert as she visualized violence and fangs.

  “I’ve coached quite a few of the new agents over the years.” Wayne’s look lasted too long—hungry and inappropriate. Christy didn’t trust one single hair plug.

  “Well,” she said, resisting the urge to escape, “I do need a good open house.

  Now, why did I say that?

  “I’ve got the perfect one! Great little short sale.” Wayne launched into his routine, oblivious to the fact she’d become dizzy from the smell of the garlic fries he’d apparently had for lunch. “The house is a little rough around the edges, but in a super neighborhood. The sellers are about to lose it.” He threw her a mock frown. She could see him singing a hymn, asking for money on TV.

  Perhaps a second career.

  “No sign on the lawn yet and it’s not even on the computer,” he continued. “You can snatch all those buyers for yourself.” He leaned in and whispered like it was a national secret. “And I could help you with the paperwork. You know, show you how it’s done.”

  Male alert. If he touches me, he’ll get a knee to his groin. She swung her chair to angle for quick action.

  He stepped back just in time. She exhaled, grateful for the distance.

  “Doing short sales is a real art,” he added with a frown, stiffening. His shiny suit fit like one of those unfortunate animals in a teddy bear factory, stuffed into its fur. The silver glint of the fabric reminded her of fish scales.

  Run, Christy, run. You could be the one who got away…

  She had never in her life paid a favor with sex and wasn’t about to start. She would hold hi
s new listing open, but only if she could do it without owing him.

  Besides, she had to do something to drum up business. Her move to San Diego marked the beginning of her new professional career as a Realtor. Being the top salesperson at Madame M’s lingerie boutique on Maiden Lane in San Francisco had only barely paid the bills. She’d loved Madame and had thrived as a sales clerk, but had recognized the time for a real career and had trained in Real Estate, then moved to San Diego after her mother had passed on and left her condo to Christy.

  Though she’d been was comfortable selling to the rich and powerful of the City by the Bay, Wayne, even if he was half the success he claimed he was, made her nervous.

  This is a very bad idea. Just say no.

  “Fine.” It sounded like it came from the cubicle next to her.

  But then she spotted Wayne’s dimples and canines.

  Oh. My. God. I’ve just said yes.

  Christy’s red Honda looked like a wet cherry lollipop, shined and polished to perfection. Cute and shiny on the outside, but hot and sweltering on the inside. Sitting in the cramped front seat, she stopped and squinted to make out house numbers, comparing them to the address Wayne had minutely scribbled on the back of his business card. Then she found it.

  The house appeared nicer than he’d described. The advertised price, he said, was the lowest in the neighborhood, going back ten years. Hopefully she’d pick up a young couple out looking for their first home, complete with good credit and a wad of cash from Mommy and Daddy. Wouldn’t it be great to make a sale on her very first day on the job?

  She parked in the driveway, popped the trunk, and brought out three sandwich signs with the Patterson Realty logo, on loan from Wayne. He was out with his family today. She hoped the Somervilles didn’t stop by since she’d feel uncomfortable looking into the eyes of Wayne’s wife, a woman he probably cheated on and would again, if he got the chance. One of Christy’s other rules: no married men. She wasn’t about to change that, either.

  A perfumed late spring breeze blew softly against her face and neck, sending a thrill up her spine. The air ripened with possibility. This was her favorite time of year.