Navy SEAL Seduction

by Bonnie Vanak

  The woman was gradually beginning to open up. Lacey made a point of checking on her frequently, for although Marie was slower at cutting the fruit than the other women, she had determination and willingness to learn.

  Lacey beckoned to Collette, who was supervising another woman. Her manager approached, her clipboard in hand and the ever-present yellow pencil she used to write notes.

  “Why is Marie sitting by herself at the juicing table?” Lacey asked in French.

  Collette shrugged. “She is nervous. I put her at a table by herself because she makes the others nervous, as well, and they are slower to produce.”

  “Put her back with the others. I don’t want her isolated, even if they slow down. She needs to socialize and be with other women.”

  “We need to increase production since we lost the jam to the fire.” With her pencil, Collette pointed to the piles of fruit. “And what about the orders you were supposed to fill?”

  The restaurants had paid in advance for her product, but Lacey had already thought of that. “Use the crates I have stored in the guesthouse pantry. There’s enough.”

  Surprise flicked in the other woman’s eyes. “I did not know you have extras.”

  “Now you do. I always have backup in case an order needs to be expedited.”

  Collette nodded, but her gaze kept flicking to Jarrett. Tap, tap, tap. The pencil hit her clipboard with increasing intensity.

  Jarrett moved away, making his way through the shop.

  “He should not be here. He makes the women nervous, as well,” Collette murmured.

  The other women gave her ex quick glances, but in those looks she didn’t see fear, only curiosity.

  “They’re not afraid of him. And there is nothing to fear. Jarrett is a good man,” she told her manager.

  Lacey headed for Jarrett, who reached Marie. She jumped up with a little cry and spilled the tub of mango juice.

  “Oh no, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Marie wailed, righting the tub with hands that shook badly. “It’s going to go all over the place!”

  “Easy,” Jarrett said in French. “It was an accident. My fault. I startled you.”

  Tugging his shirt over his head with one hand, he mopped up the spilled mango juice. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Miss Lacey will be so upset.” Her breathing rapid and her pulse jumping, Marie wrung her hands. The fear in the woman’s eyes broke Lacey’s heart.

  She touched Marie’s arm. “Miss Lacey is not upset. Accidents happen. As long as you’re all right. You okay?”

  “Yes, Miss Lacey.” Marie sat, her hands still trembling.

  “Miss Collette is going to put you back with the other women cutting fruit.”

  “I’m not as fast as they are,” Marie whispered. “I am too slow.”

  “I was slow once. But sometimes slow is good, because it allows you to learn. The important thing is to not give up,” Jarrett told Marie.

  She gave him a grateful look. “Thank you.”

  Collette rushed over. “Marie, go sit next to Paulette. She will show you how to select the fruit for canning.”

  The woman left, murmuring apologies all over again. Collette’s pencil beat hard against the clipboard.

  “I could have handled the spill,” Collette said in English.

  “I’m sure you could have, but it wasn’t necessary, since I was closer. And I’m the one who startled her,” Jarrett said.

  Her ex was polite, but his tone frosty. And Collette’s dislike of Jarrett seemed obvious. Was it because Collette resented a man taking charge?

  She studied her manager. Collette never had an attitude problem. She had always been friendly and respectful, if not direct. But sometimes power, even a position of managing others, went to your head.

  With a little nod, Collette headed toward her office.

  Jarrett sighed as he held out the stained T-shirt. “Hope you have a laundry around here.”

  “Leave it here. One of the women will wash it better than I ever could.” Desire curled through her body as she studied his naked chest. “We have to find you a new shirt. ASAP.”

  His gaze gleamed. “What’s the hurry? I’m enjoying how you keep staring at me.”

  Heat suffused her face as they walked to her house. In the kitchen Jarrett opened the refrigerator as if he lived there, removed two bottles of water and handed her one. He opened his and took several long gulps.

  Lacey uncapped hers and drank, amused to see beads of sweat on his forehead. Maybe she was sweating because he was damn fine to look at, but he was, as well.

  “Look at you, tough guy. I made you perspire.”

  He rolled the cold bottle over his forehead and didn’t return her smile. “I’ve been in combat and faced tough sitches before, Lace. But seeing the look on Marie’s face, damn. What happened to her?”

  “Her boyfriend beat her up. And then he enjoyed using her to put out his cigarettes. Did you see the burns on her arm? I’m trying to make her feel comfortable and safe, and let her gain some confidence. She sorely needs it.”

  Everything she worked so hard for here on the compound was directed for these women. But it still scraped her raw, knowing what they had suffered.

  “That kind of thing makes me mad as hell. You’re doing a good job here. You’re giving them hope for a better tomorrow.”

  His quiet praise and his intensity jolted her. Jarrett had always been intense, but this was a different side he’d seldom shown. “I’m trying with what little I have. It isn’t enough.”

  “You’re doing more than what most people would, Lace.” He finished the water and braced his hands on the counter, staring at the cabinets. “There’s a lot of evil in this world. Sometimes I wish I had been able to do more.”

  She could almost see the images dancing about in his mind of the nasty things he’d seen, and what he’d been forced to confront. She put a gentle hand on his arm.

  “There are evil people in this world. And the good ones, like you, Jarrett. Every time I turn on the news and see how evil people are, I close my eyes and remember the ones like you who sacrifice all to keep us safe.”

  “I was gone a lot. I shortchanged you on our marriage.” He turned and looked at her. Lacey’s throat closed up. She drank more water and began tearing the label off her bottle.

  “I wasn’t shortchanged on our marriage. I knew I had to share you with the Navy. And the Navy is a demanding mistress. Maybe if I’d had something like this NGO, I could have hung in there after I lost the baby. The baby was my purpose, this tiny little life I carried inside me. My purpose was protecting her, keeping her thriving and alive. And I failed.”

  He put his hand on her wrist, staying her from peeling off the rest of the label. “I’m sorry I let you down when I left you. I was always focusing on the job and when I was home, I failed to focus on you.”

  Words she’d longed to hear years ago after she’d miscarried. But she’d grown, and knew he wasn’t solely to blame. “We let each other down, Jarrett. We lost each other along the way.”

  Silence draped between them for a moment as he turned around to stare out the kitchen window. She allowed herself to look her fill of Jarrett.

  Jarrett was a big guy, tall and intimidating when you first met him. Every inch of him gleamed with muscle and sinew. Her hungry gaze wandered up his spine to the twin muscles dividing his back and her heart jerked to a halt.

  She gently traced the three silvery scars with a finger. They looked like bullet wounds.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “I survived.”

  “Where?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I spent a month Stateside at the Walter Reed hospital.”

  “Did anyone look after you?”

  A shrug. “My buddies looked after me, and my CO stopped in to visit when he could.”

  No girlfriend. Jarrett would have mentioned it.

  Lacey’s stomach tightened. She hadn’t been there for him when he recovered, hadn’t been there to hold
his hand at the hospital, to make him laugh about the lousy food or encourage him when he got restless and wanted to go home because he hated being sick.

  Her exploring fingers went to the blue ink swirling around his broad right shoulder. The intricate pattern of curlicues intrigued her. This, too, was new.

  “Where did you get this?”

  His troubled green gaze met hers. “After a tour of Afghanistan, I headed to Singapore for R&R. Ink shop a buddy recommended. I wanted flames. But he made it too pretty.”

  The design was beautiful and elegant. “Why flames?”

  Jarrett turned around, a hank of dark hair spilling into his face. “Because I wanted a reminder of the hell I’d been through.”

  “The hell of all the missions you served?”

  “The hell of how I felt after you left me, Lace, and the divorce came through.” His mouth tensed. “And maybe a reminder, as well, of the hell I’d put you through all those times I left you.”

  They’d both been there and back. “Hell is a two-way street, Jarrett. You’re not solely to blame.”

  He rubbed a knuckle along her cheek, and the touch, combined with the tenderness in his eyes, made her toes curl. Not mere lust, it was something deeper and more lasting. Connection.

  Lacey turned. They’d had connection before, but that bond broke. “I need a shower. I’ll meet you downstairs in fifteen and give you directions on where to drive Fleur. She’s going to a friend’s house after school. She and Sally have a playdate.”

  “Lace,” he said quietly. “Don’t be afraid of me. Of us.”

  But she’d had too much fear, too many disappointments, to erase them. She ran upstairs.

  Glad she had her own private bathroom, Lacey stripped and headed for the boxlike shower. She twisted the spigot to full blast, not caring that she was wasting precious water. Lacey scrubbed her body and soaped her hair. Tears ran down her cheeks, mingling with the water.

  No one ever heard you cry in the shower.

  When she stepped out of the bathroom, something swung from the spinning ceiling fan. Her bra. A grudging laugh fled her. Trust her ex to do something to make her laugh and chase away the brooding intensity of remembering their past.

  Lacey snatched it and dressed in a floral skirt and a white peasant blouse and slipped her bare feet into sandals.

  Jarrett waited on the landing outside her room, a smug grin on his face. His dark hair damp, he wore a pair of clean navy blue cargo shorts and a button-down white shirt slightly open at the throat. He looked sexy and impish and her heart skipped a beat.

  “Same old prank, Adler. Can’t think of anything original?”

  “It worked to get your attention all those times when we were married.” Heat glinted his gaze. “You look very pretty, Lace.”

  He leaned closer, his gaze growing intent. She lifted her face. When he pressed his lips against hers, she slid her arms around his neck.

  He maneuvered her backward, into her bedroom. Lacey felt the backs of her knees connect with the mattress and fell onto the bed, still kissing him. Jarrett levered himself atop her, tunneling his fingers through her hair.

  “You smell so damn good,” he murmured, nibbling at her neck. “Like fresh apples and flowers.”

  His palm skimmed up her body, cupped her breast. Lacey moaned as he began to knead her breast. She felt hot and hungry and needy.

  A door opened downstairs. Instantly, he moved off her, his gaze sharpened. “Stay here.”

  The old Jarrett, wary and alert. Then a voice called out. “Miss Lacey? You home? I’m back from the market and I’m going to start dinner.”

  She threw a hand over her forehead and sighed. Jarrett relaxed and shot her a wry grin.

  “Lousy timing,” he murmured.

  Tell me about it. She glanced at the bedside clock. “You’d better go. Fleur’s school lets out soon.”

  Jarrett trailed a finger down her cheek, making her shiver. “Rain check.”

  Rain check? How about a snowy day in hell check because letting her libido take control was a bad idea. Sex with Jarrett had always been great, incredible, mind-blowing, but it also had been a way for them to bond and connect.

  She didn’t want or need to bond with her ex-husband. He wasn’t a one-night stand who would satisfy her body’s sexual needs.

  He was a man who could break her heart all over again if she let him get close enough.

  CHAPTER 9

  As a SEAL, Jarrett never underestimated the power of training for an op. Or being prepared with the right weaponry. SEALs constantly trained and trained for missions, and their gear was integral to success. But in this sitch, faced with protecting his ex-wife and her daughter, and the deep gut feeling that things could blow and get worse, he needed to be better prepared.

  And armed.

  After he dropped Fleur off at her friend’s house, making sure to meet and greet Sally’s mom, and size up the house and their security—much better than Lacey’s, complete with a very large German shepherd dog and lots of security cameras—he asked Ace to bring over a gift basket.

  The kind of gift basket one did not order through a florist.

  Two hours later Ace drove into the compound in his slick black SUV with the blackened windows. He parked and climbed out.

  Grinning, Jarrett stuck out a palm. “My man.”

  He clapped him on the back, grateful his friend could help him out. Kyle “Ace” Taylor was shorter than him, standing only five feet, ten inches. He wore one of his typical Hawaiian shirts and tan cargo shorts, and his dark blond hair was wavy and streaked, making him look like a surfer. Ace had an athletic, wiry strength like a tightly coiled spring. With his deep blue eyes and movie-star looks, he seemed too pretty to be a warrior.

  Until you saw those baby blues narrow as Ace went for the kill. He’d been a sniper for the teams until he’d taken a bullet to the knee and was forced to take mandatory medical leave.

  Jarrett had been through Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL (BUD/S) with Ace and seeing his friend injured had made him think long and hard about his own options. How long before he was laid up with an injury, or worse?

  “Iceman, my friend. I have your little gift basket right here.” Ace opened the truck’s back door and hoisted out a large black duffel bag. He placed it on the ground, unlocked it and then unzipped.

  Relief swept through him as Ace lifted an HK MP7a1 submachine gun out of the bag and handed it to him. The gun was compact, and would allow him to maneuver in tight quarters if necessary. The HK could be fitted with a scope, laser pointer and best of all, a suppressor to reduce both noise and recoil.

  “Wasn’t sure if you could deliver the goods this fast. I’m impressed.” He handed him back the weapon.

  “For you—” Ace put a hand over his heart “—I’d do anything. But wait! There’s more. If you order now, you get a bonus gift of ammo! Cut through a tin can one moment and slice and dice a tango the next! And a suppressor! Keeps the noise down so the neighbors won’t think you’re having a party and pout because they’re not invited.”

  “Ace is a handy hardware man,” Jarrett drawled, zipping up the duffel bag and locking it. “Sweet.”

  “Anytime.”

  Jarrett wished he had his night vision goggles to survey the compound at night for intruders. Sophisticated and expensive, they were an essential for deployment. But smuggling them into St. Marc would get him into very hot water with his CO, not to mention the Navy brass.

  “Surveillance?” he asked.

  Ace shook his head, causing a hank of hair to fall into his face. He pushed it back with an impatient hand. “Can’t get the cameras you need for at least two weeks. And with the capital heating up like a pressure cooker, shipments are slower to clear through customs. Talk about irony. It’s easier for me to get this baby on the black market than to order legit security cameras.”

  Damn. He wanted to wire the compound with proper surveillance, and the right amount of night vision cams, but it would
take time to get all the equipment. One of the hazards of island life.

  Jarrett clapped Ace’s shoulder. “I owe you, man.”

  Ace’s gaze went intense. “You owe me nothing, Iceman. If you didn’t haul my butt out of that op in Somalia, my sister would be putting roses on my gravestone instead of cooking me dinner. I can’t thank you enough.”

  Emotion clogged Jarrett’s throat. They were brothers in arms, and would always be friends, but it was difficult for him to open up to such quiet admissions.

  “Your sister’s cooking is so bad you may want to order that gravestone anyway, Ace. Aimee is one fine woman, but she could burn water.”

  “Hey, do not insult my only living immediate family member, Iceman. She doesn’t burn water anymore. She merely scorches it.”

  “Come into the house and say hello to Lace.” Jarrett carried the bag as Ace accompanied him.

  Inside, the smells of cooking chili wafted through the air. Ace’s nose twitched. “Damn, that smells like really fine chili. I didn’t know Lace could cook.”

  “She can’t.” Jarrett carefully set the bag down on the sofa. “Rose, her cook, is terrific. Lacey, come say hello to Ace. He did a drive-by.”

  “Kyle!” Wiping her hands on a checked dish towel, Lacey emerged from the kitchen with a big smile. “So good to see you again. Can you stay for dinner?”

  His friend dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Thanks, Lacey, but have to get back to the homestead. Aimee’s making a late supper for me. She’ll have my head in a bucket if I’m late.”

  “We have real Texas-style chili Rose is making from a recipe I found on the internet.”

  A wide grin split his friend’s face. Ace fluttered his eyelashes and put his hands to his heart. “I love you. Will you marry me?”

  Jarrett told him to do something anatomically impossible and Ace laughed, dancing away from the reach of Jarrett’s mock punch.

  “Oh wait, you can’t marry me. You’re already taken,” Ace teased and then he stopped, stricken as he realized what he’d said.