Nashville SEAL: Jameson: Nashville SEALs

by Sharon Hamilton

“No. I don’t know either one of them. But she’s wearing a wedding band.”

  Jones turned around to verify the comment. “That’s a fact.” He focused back on Lizzie. “Good eyes there, sugar.”

  She blushed in spite of herself.

  “Notice you don’t wear one.” He raised one eyebrow and leaned back to hear her answer while Coop started to insert her foot back into her running shoes.

  “You’re fine, I think. Does it hurt at all?” Coop asked her.

  “No.” She jumped as his delicate fingers cinched up her laces, and he patted her ankle. No one had ever touched her ankle that way before.

  Who were these guys?

  The music had stopped, so when she heard Jameson’s deep buttery voice, the back of her neck became sensitive, the sound of his gentle timbre and cadence sending a delicious electric current down her spine, something she remembered from before.

  “You guys show up to my gig to give foot massages now? Did Charlie over there send you guys here to warm up the crowd?” Jameson asked.

  Lizzie removed her leg from Coop’s thigh and sat up, holding down her hair as if she was wearing a wig. She was still getting used to the new bright red color.

  “Just checking her out,” said Coop.

  “That’s what I’m sayin’. You okay, darlin’?” Jameson kneeled down and looked right into her eyes and didn’t register any recognition whatsoever. The closeness of his face, the smell of the sweat from his performance, and the beads of moisture on his upper lip were all familiar things. Even the mint on his breath was the same. She’d tasted those mints, had a whole drawer full of them at home, and every time she had one, she remembered how he tasted when he bent to kiss her.

  It usually left her vacant and wanting. Tonight, seeing him in the flesh, was no exception.

  “I’m fine. Thanks for asking,” she answered him. Her voice was a little high and creaky, not her real voice. Her nerves were jumbling her insides.

  She’d thought about it every day for the three years plus since she’d last seen Jameson. It had haunted her, how it would be to see him again. To see if he remembered that wonderful week together in North Carolina.

  The answer was, painfully, no. He didn’t remember her.

  A blonde girl she’d met before somewhere came up behind him, placing her palms on his shoulders, and laid claim to him, giving her a smile short on patience.

  Jameson rose, adjusted his belt, and slipped his arm around the blonde’s waist.

  “So you guys wanna tell me what all happened here, since you weren’t giving foot massages?” Jameson asked.

  “Heard a little domestic squabble,” Coop answered. His eyes searched back and forth between Jameson and the blonde. “Maybe he had reason to distrust his wife coming here to see you?” Coop nodded toward the dark-haired beauty at the doorway with Ryan.

  Jameson cleared his throat and gave the woman a nod. The lady was smiling devilishly back at him.

  “I see what you mean,” he answered. But most important to Lizzie was that he didn’t deny anything. Jameson began to crane his neck. “Where’s my Marine guy?”

  Coop and several of the others chuckled.

  “What? Did I say something wrong?” he asked, as he pulled the blonde closer to him, massaging the top of her neck while she draped over him like a warm blanket.

  “I’m sorry,” the handsome Puerto Rican man answered. “That’s no Marine or even Marine-in-training.”

  “Four tours overseas,” insisted Jameson.

  “I’d say he’s had no military training, Mr. Jameson, sir. No offense, but I think you hired what we call a poser.” The accented man gave him a lethal wink and then directed it right at Lizzie.

  Arlen appeared as if he’d been summoned, introducing himself. A couple of the men asked him questions the bodyguard struggled to answer and was failing miserably. Even Lizzie could see that. The boys didn’t call him on it, just let the conversation dangle. Several started to to leave.

  “You okay, Red?” one of the men asked, returning his cap to front position, the picture of an elongated skull adorning the front above the bill. She’d seen it somewhere before.

  “Hold it,” Jameson demanded. “You guys friends of the Punisher?”

  “Some of us knew him,” the tall medic answered.

  “So you’re SEALs then. That right?”

  The accented man stood and rolled his shoulder. “Could be.” Others began to rise and follow his lead.

  “What the hell are you doing in Nashville?” asked Jameson.

  That seemed to strike a chord with the rest of the boys, several making grunting noises as they laughed.

  “We’ve been on a training mission,” said the African-American SEAL.

  “The camp. That terrorist camp. You guys did that?”

  Several of the young men searched the room. The medic put his finger to his lips. “Jameson, you have yourself a nice night. We’ll be on our way.”

  Jameson unhinged himself from the blonde. “Come by tomorrow. Drinks on me. I’ll make sure there’s no cover charge. I’d like to talk to you guys. Seriously, you be here tomorrow—I’m buying. Food, too, if you want.”

  “Sure. We’ll see if we can come back. In the meantime, you take care of Arlen here. He’s gonna need help standing up and sitting down,” laughed another one of the men.

  “You coming by tomorrow, Red?” the same young man asked.

  She didn’t know what else to do, so she nodded.

  “Well, that does it for me then. I’ll be here,” the SEAL answered Jameson, winking at Lizzie.

  One by one, each of the men nodded to her, looking her straight in the eyes, not like men who usually hang out in bars. They left the building, leaving Jameson with the blonde, the dark-haired beauty, and herself.

  It was an awkward couple of minutes, until Jameson tipped his hat to the lady at the entrance and then slowly to Lizzie herself. He still didn’t know that she had dreamed about this meeting for years and that it was over all too soon. Perhaps never to happen again.

  Jameson wound his way through the crowd of tables, arm entwined in the blonde’s waistband, as the dark-haired girl disappeared in the opposite direction, out into the night air. All that was left was Lizzie’s heart beating fiercely in her chest. Everyone was gone, leaving her behind, just like that spring.

  Except this time it was happening in Nashville.

  Chapter 5

  ‡

  Karen was deserving of more than he had to give her this evening. His mind was stuck on something about the SEALs who came to watch him perform. He was also stuck on the bad decision he’d made hiring Arlen. Then there was the confrontation with the husband and seeing Heather again.

  Just twenty-four hours ago, his world had been so carefree. Now it felt complicated, as if some earthquake had moved all the goalposts.

  Karen was a lovely girl, even though she put on the red tonight. She’d be easy to live with, to love.

  “Honey, all I got is beer and little bottles from the minibar. You’d probably prefer something else, maybe nice wine or something, and I’m not stocked up. We could go out if you want.” His feelings were getting complicated. Was he trying to make up for something he’d felt ashamed of? He’d never had this much doubt before and shrugged it off. Normally he was high as a kite, ready to party to oblivion. The night air was especially cold and threatened rain, and she was shivering.

  Is this what I’m doing? Going on a date?

  “Are you hungry, Jameson?”

  “I could do with some carbs, if you’re hungry. I could buy us a nice bottle of something, what? Wine? Just feel bad I don’t have anything other than the minibar, and honey, the hotel room is nothing to write home about. Just warning you.”

  “I wasn’t planning on telling a soul.” She kissed him, standing on tiptoes. It did cheer him up a little with her happy countenance. “I don’t have to work tomorrow morning, so I’m good either way. Up to you. How do you feel?”

&nb
sp; He wished he didn’t have to be the one to decide all of a sudden.

  She agreed to leave her car at the club, and the two of them rode to a little Italian restaurant he’d occasionally visit after a night of partying. The place was beginning to shut down, but the owner knew him and fixed them some pasta and gave them a bottle of house wine. After they ate, he insisted Jameson take the rest of the bottle back home with him.

  Inside the hotel room, he left the lights off. It had been a long evening already, and he was starting to get tired. But he owed Karen his full attention, and he was still feeling a twinge of guilt he couldn’t shake off. Images of the upset husband kept playing around in his head, sobering his demeanor. He was wondering what was becoming of his usual stellar judgment.

  Her angelic hair glowed in the moonlight as she removed her clothes and slipped under the sheets. He was grateful they weren’t having the drawn out clothes stripping parade he’d had last night.

  Once naked, he covered himself with a condom and found her warm body fully accepting of his. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he barely had a chance to lean down and plant a kiss on her lips before she’d angled herself on him. He was so damn hard and she was so tight the friction between their bodies quickened the passion he’d been holding back. He stroked her slowly, letting her pull at his butt, bringing him deeper inside with every thrust. Her little mewling sounds were sweet.

  “Mmm, those little sounds you make, Karen. Real sexy like.”

  She giggled, thrusting her pelvis up toward his groin, rocking herself on him. He placed his palms under her rear, holding her up off the bed as he bent one knee, angling to the side and pressing into her to the hilt. Her moans became desperate. She drew her knee up over his right shoulder as he continued his hip-rocking action and then held himself against her insides, pulsing. Her little body shook beneath him as she came, and they shared their pleasure together.

  He stroked her hairline with his thumb. “Sorry, darlin’. I guess I was a little tired.”

  “Oh God, no! Jameson, I can’t believe…”

  He cut her off with a deep kiss. “Shhh. We’re just two people here. Just you and me. I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart. Give me a little time.”

  He rolled on his back, staring at the ceiling he could not see. She fit nicely into the hollow beneath his arm, snuggling her breasts against his, wrapping her legs around his thigh. Her warm, moist pussy pulsed against him. He removed his condom using the top sheet and then reached over to feel the smooth skin of her rump.

  “Wake me up if you want to, Jameson, when you’re ready.”

  Well, suddenly, he was ready.

  He was grateful for this life, he thought as he showered with her. Karen’s body was perfect for him. He even enjoyed how the hot water made her nipples knot and how her cheeks pinked when he knelt in front of her in the shower and ‘tuned her G string,’ as he called it.

  He bought her breakfast, and then it was time to part. He drove her over to pick up her car at the club. The place was looking dingy and didn’t have any of the sparkle of the night before. Nothing had the sparkle of the night before.

  What’s happening?

  He gave her a hug, kissed her on the cheek. She grabbed his ears and planted a deep kiss on him, nearly jumping him again in the parking lot.

  “Whoa! Whoa! I need my energy for tonight’s show. You forget, I work tonight.”

  She frowned. “So do I. But I can come tomorrow night.”

  He smiled into her blue eyes and wanted to be kind, but didn’t want her thinking they were going to be exclusive for any length of time. “We had a nice time together, Karen. I think you clear wore me out. Might need a few days to recover.”

  He saw that the flattering remark appeared to work. But he was serious about her not expecting anything more from him. It seemed a good way to let her down.

  Her smile rewarded him with the reassurance his message was delivered. He gave her a good pat on the rear, then a squeeze on that fine ass of hers. “Laters, baby.”

  She started to walk toward her car, then turned around, her eyes filling out round. “Seriously? You into that, too?”

  He placed his fingers on his hips and shook his head, examining the tips of his boots. “Not really. But I saw the movie.”

  Her warm smile cheered him long after she left, swaying back and forth in the late morning air, a thing of beauty and something he’d seriously enjoyed. He was also glad it wasn’t going to get complicated.

  Jameson was surprised to see Thomas’s pickup still in the parking lot. It occurred to him the man might have spent the night on a cot in the men’s restroom, like he’d done a time or two. The club owner’s older light violet Cadillac with the longhorns welded to the grill was also still there.

  He found the front door to the club open. Reed, the club owner, was sitting at a table counting money.

  “You knocked ’em dead last night, Jameson. You only got two more nights. How about extending a bit for me? The boys said they were available.”

  “Hell, Reed, they’re always available. They work for you, not for me. Besides, I might be a signed recording artist by then. One can never tell.”

  “Shit, Jameson, you should just enjoy the money and the tits and ass while it lasts. I know Thomas did.”

  “Well, I’m not Thomas. You should know that by now. He in the bathroom?”

  “Shit, no. You should have seen who he went home with last night.”

  Jameson smiled at the wily manager who continually came out on top. “So you didn’t pay him yet; otherwise, he’d have brought an expensive one home. His truck is still here. So where’s the asshole holed up this time?”

  “No, goddammit, I didn’t pay him because I thought maybe that one might steal from him. She rode in on a Harley, and do you see a black Harley outside?”

  “I sure don’t.”

  “That’s because she took him on her bike. The lady, if you can call her that, has more tats than Thomas has. Indian gal nearly three hundred pounds. I can’t even imagine the kind of war games she took out on his sorry ass.”

  They heard the unmistakable sounds of the Harley in question arriving outside the club.

  Thomas ran through the opening as they heard the sounds of the bike fade behind him. “Whoo hoo! Now that was some kind of fun! That woman can suck the rockets off a space ship!” Thomas’s enthusiasm was double any Jameson had seen in the past several months.

  “Glad to hear it,” he chuckled as he fist bumped his old friend.

  “Reed, can Jameson and I bum a beer? I’m starved.”

  “You need breakfast, Thomas, not a beer.” Reed continued counting without taking his eyes off the money, his lips forming a thin line. “Maybe lover boy can take you out for something. If you come back in an hour, I’ll have your money.”

  “Ah, just one beer, Reed. Come on.”

  “What are we celebrating?” Reed asked him, stopping to give Thomas attention. “You celebrate gettin’ laid now? Is that how it’s gone for you, son?”

  Jameson could see that cut a little close to the bone for Thomas. “Come on. I’ll buy you some breakfast, and we’ll pick up a six-pack on the way back.”

  “Okay.” Thomas headed toward the door then turned back to Reed. “See you in an hour or less.” After they were in the parking lot, he asked, “So what are you hankering for?”

  “I’m not hungry. But I’ll get a cup of coffee with you. Tell me about your sexual exploits.”

  “My lips are sealed, but man, hers? Hers were divine!” Thomas smirked, his eyes wild and twinkling. “Can I ride along?” he asked, pointing to Jameson’s truck.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Some would call it good, my man.”

  “So did you stop drinking at all last night?” Jameson smelled the alcohol on Thomas’s breath, the clove cigarettes in his clothes.

  “I did several things all night long, Jameson. You’re not the only stud in Nashville.”

  “So Re
ed says she rides a Harley. Most of those girls have boyfriends who don’t talk much, but love to pound on white boys any chance they can. You thinking straight?” Jameson squinted, shaking his head. They’d arrived at a twenty-four hour coffee shop.

  “Never better.”

  It was probably a boost to Thomas’s ego, plastered and beat down by a long series of rejections from agents and record producers. Jameson knew his old friend had more talent in his little finger than most everyone else in this town. Thomas was also one of the busiest singer-songwriters in Nashville, but only because he was cheap, practically free to hire, and didn’t have a personal life. Hanging out in bars for the odd chance of meeting a biker chick, or making enough to satisfy his bar tab, was the trajectory he was on.

  “Don’t you ever think all this might be ruining your chances of making it big time? You know the A&R guys don’t hang out at some of the places you play.”

  “Well, there were two there last night,” Thomas objected. He sat across from Jameson while their waitress, Dottie, came over and placed a couple of sticky menus in front of them.

  “Just coffee, please, ma’am.”

  “Make that two, and I’d like some eggs and toast.” Thomas growled, frowning into the menu as she snatched it from his hands.

  “Thomas, one guy was there because I invited him. He was there to see me.”

  “Didn’t stay very long.”

  “They never do. I’m feeling good about this one, though.”

  Thomas nodded, lowering the corners of his lips and raising his eyebrows. “You wind up with the little high schooler?”

  “She’s not in high school. She’s twenty-two.”

  “Ah,” Thomas said and winked. “Well, shit, I’m happy for you.”

  “I don’t do it for the girls, Thomas.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Well, I mean, what kind of a life would that be? I’m working hard to get discovered.”

  Thomas gave him a glare straight from hell. Dottie brought his eggs and toast just in time. He softened his look after taking his first bite. “I seriously hope it happens for you, man.”

  Jameson sat back and took stock of his old friend. “You givin’ up on the dream, Thomas? Is that what this is all about?”