Bought by the SEAL

by Zoe York

  He stood up and prowled closer. “That it just might be believable.”

  She scrambled backward on the bench until her back hit the cabin wall. “What?”

  “You. Me. Us.” Will stopped in front of her and braced his hand on the wall above her. “New plan, Daphne. Give me a weekend to seduce you, publicly. A whirlwind courtship. You can resist me. Slap me in the middle of a bar. But then I’ll kiss you, in front of everyone we know, and you’ll melt into my arms.”

  She could see it.

  Not the melting part. But the cocky pursuit, the slap, the rough grab as he hauled her close.

  Would their friends believe it?

  Her heart pounded against her ribs.

  Oh, God. They would.

  Will leaned in, all the way, until his lips were right in front of hers. “A million dollars. Just give me a chance.”

  She closed her eyes. She could still feel him right there. “Is the estate really worth this?”

  He didn’t answer. But he didn’t pull away, either.

  Heat pulsed between them.

  Then he inhaled sharply. “Yes,” he whispered. “And if you’re in, I’ll tell you why.”

  Chapter Four

  Daphne told herself she was crazy to say yes, but she was hooked. Damn him. “I’m in.”

  Will exhaled roughly. “Good. Thank you.”

  “So what’s first?” She tried to lean back, to look at him better, but she was caged in against the bulkhead. “You can step back now, by the way.”

  He hesitated before standing up and moving back. He grabbed the envelope of papers. “First, we sign these. Once you’ve signed the non-disclosure agreement, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

  “You’re willing to marry me, but you don’t trust me with basic information?”

  He snorted. “When you grow up a Parry, nothing about your life is basic.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Well, when you grow up a Strike, nothing about anyone else’s life is interesting. I’ll sign the papers, but I’m overhearing your life story, Mr. Fancy Pants.”

  “Hey.” He caught her wrist as she tried to push past him. “Sorry.”

  “Are you?”

  “Sure.” He shrugged as he gazed down at her.

  He wasn’t wearing sunglasses, and she still was. It gave her an advantage, at least in the moment. She could see the flecks in his eyes, the unexpected depth of feelings lurking behind them too. She glared up at him, watching the tiniest flex and tug of the muscles around his mouth. She wanted more from him. Sincerity, trust.

  She didn’t have any reason to expect either of those, of course. They were practically strangers. But for some reason, he’d tapped her for this crazy plan. If they were going to do it, they were going to do it right.

  “Your life story can wait,” she finally said when it was clear he wasn’t going to add anything else. “Until after you spontaneously fall in love with me.”

  She took the envelope and signed her life away. Her heart pounded in her chest as she flipped through the papers. One more weekend, and then, if all went well, they’d decide to get hitched out of the blue and then she’d be a millionaire.

  “So,” Will said after he scrawled his signature next to hers on the last page. “First phase of the mission is, we need to bump into each other tonight. Some place public. You’re not working?”

  “Not until Tuesday.” She’d taken the weekend off for other reasons, but they could wait. “I’m all yours this weekend. Let’s bump into each other over and over again.”

  His eyes sparkled. “That’s the idea.”

  She groaned. What had she gotten herself into? Well, if they were going to do this, it wasn’t all going to be on Will’s terms. “I’ll put out the call for a party tonight. Leave it to me.”

  Of course she’d picked the diviest of dive bars. Will winced as he followed Brayden through a creaking door into a shack on the beach that hadn’t been scrubbed properly in years. It smelled faintly of piss and less faintly of lobster. Last week, he’d have said fuck it and left his friends to their misery. Headed back to the estate and poured himself into work instead, with imported beer in a frosty and definitely clean glass.

  But somewhere, somehow tonight he would have a chance to fall for Daphne. Because of a place like this, because he was turning over a new leaf, because he was—suddenly, unexpectedly—a man who was captivated by the type of woman Daphne was. Fun, crazy, wild.

  She was testing him, and he wasn’t going to fail.

  “Arielle says they’re five minutes away, she’s just picking up Daphne,” Brayden said, looking up from his phone. “Now listen, man, you gotta be on your best behavior tonight, okay? Arielle and I have plans to head back to her place, but that’s not going to happen if you get into one of your stupid fights.”

  “We don’t have stupid fights,” Will said, paying more attention to the room than his friend. There was no acceptable place to sit. “Is there a patio to this place?”

  “Yeah, out back. A second bar there, too.”

  “Excellent.” He pushed through the crowd.

  “You’re not listening to me.”

  “I’ll be on my best behavior.” He turned and grinned at Brayden. “I like Daphne just fine.”

  “I know you do. But that doesn’t seem to stop you from pushing all of her buttons.” Brayden thumped him on the chest. “Do me a favor and just be chill tonight, all right? Apparently Daphne wants to cut loose. So you can order drinks and be her wingman. Deal?”

  What the fuck? The back of his neck started to burn.

  Dive bar. Plans to cut loose.

  Daphne was going off script.

  “Deal,” he growled.

  Then he pushed his way past the last partier between him and the patio—and out into paradise. A huge deck overlooking the ocean. Strings of lights swayed overhead, casting the worn wood of the shack in a decidedly romantic glow.

  Huh.

  “They’re here,” Brayden said. “I’ll grab drinks, you keep an eye out for them and watch for a table to open up.”

  Where were all these people coming from? The place was packed, and the parking lot hadn’t been that busy. But as he looked down the beach, he realized they were within walking distance of a couple of resorts, including the one that Daphne worked at.

  Inside the place was a dive, but out here, overlooking the beach, it was a hidden treasure that would make visitors to Miralinda feel like they’ve had a taste of real island life.

  And Will would have missed it.

  Clearly she was trying to teach him a few things about being cocky while going along with his game. Fair enough. A table in front of him opened up and he grabbed it just as the door swung open—and out stepped Daphne with her friend Arielle, Brayden’s girlfriend.

  And for the first time ever, other than Mick and Cara’s wedding, Daphne was truly dressed up. She always looked hot, but she was a t-shirt-over-a-bikini type of woman. Will liked that about her. He liked her in pink panties and a mismatched black bra, too.

  But tonight? She’d put on a flirty little nothing slip of a sundress, short enough that he was pretty sure he’d find out what color panties she was wearing tonight, too.

  His neck got hot at the realization others would learn that as well.

  And her legs went on forever. Straps wound down her calves to raw canvas sandals that seemed to float beneath her on high wedge heels. Her eyes glittered with makeup and her mouth was slick with pale pink gloss.

  Arielle veered off to join Brayden in the line at the bar and Daphne wiggled her way through the crowd toward him.

  “Will,” she said drily. “Imagine finding you in a place like this.”

  His mouth dropped open but no words came out.

  This was a completely different woman on the outside. Exactly the same sass on the inside—thank God, or he wouldn’t recognize her—but holy shit.

  “Are you okay?” She winked at him, thickly lined eyes exaggerating the flirta
tious gesture.

  “Uh…” He swallowed hard. No, he wasn’t okay. He’d officially lost control of the plan, and he didn’t care. Hitting on this woman would be the easiest thing in the world.

  Maybe she wasn’t as off-script as he’d thought.

  Chapter Five

  There weren’t many reasons Daphne considered good enough to get all done up for, but making Will speechless had suddenly catapulted to the top of the list.

  “So…” She leaned against the table beside him and crossed her legs at the ankle, enjoying the way that dragged his attention all the way down her body before he managed to haul his gaze back to her face. “How was the rest of your day?”

  His lips quirked. “Great. Made…plans.”

  She bet he did. And she was intent on blowing them all out of the water. “Did you?” She flipped her hair. “Me too.” He made a guttural sound in the back of his throat and she grinned before twisting to check on her friend. “So this is fun.”

  “Me proving myself to be just as base as all other men?”

  She glanced back over her shoulder and winked. “Maybe even more so.”

  He leaned in, close enough for her to catch a subtle whiff of expensive cologne. Something earthy. Nice touch, Mr. Billionaire. But she was firmly in charge now. “You’re always hot,” he murmured in her ear. “Tonight you’re just hot in an unexpected way. But I like you best in nothing but panties and your aviator sunglasses.”

  Oh, that was a good one. This was the thing they were doing tonight. He was seeing her in a new, sexy light for the first time—officially—and she was going to be open to his lines. It helped that it was actually working.

  But she was still in charge. “Damn it, I left those at home tonight.”

  “Your sunglasses?”

  She smiled and waved at Arielle, now approaching with two giant blender drinks. Brayden was right behind her with two more. “My panties,” she said under her breath, for Will’s ears only, before raising her voice. “Margaritas!”

  “I understand we’re celebrating,” Brayden said. He handed one of the margaritas to Will. “Sorry, man, Arielle said we needed to all drink the same thing.”

  “It’s fine.” He said it distantly, most of his attention still hooked hard on what she’d just told him. Then he blinked hard, took the drink, and lifted it in cheers. “I had a daiquiri last night. When in Rome, right? Or in this case, when in Miralinda. What are we celebrating?”

  A part of the story Daphne was improvising, because it hadn’t occurred to her fake husband-to-be. How would she explain to her friends that she was going to quit bartending and throw herself full-time into soap-making? “I may have a new business opportunity. I’ve applied for a business grant, and made it through the first part of the process.”

  “A grant.” His gaze sharpened.

  Yep, she challenged him silently. Because no matter what, I’m not letting them think you just gave me the money. Even though he would. But this was transactional. She wasn’t dependent on him. He needed her. And that felt good.

  “To grants,” he finally said, his voice husky. Like he was having a whole new reaction to a whole new her, and anything she wanted to celebrate was just fine by him. Daphne had to admit it was quite convincing.

  Beside her, Arielle sucked in a surprised breath. Daphne didn’t need to look over to know her friend was buying Will’s act. She let herself smile, which was easy to do. This was fun. She thought about it as their friends would see it: one night, two people, unexpected chemistry, and then pow.

  Which meant that as soon as possible, she’d be marrying Will Parry.

  Today she’d gone back and forth on whether the charade was worth the insane sum of money he was offering her. On the one hand were principles. On the other was a million dollar payout for a year of her time.

  Tonight was hurtling her toward a clear decision: tossing her principles out the window, because, hello freedom.

  After months of tension and two days of more overt jabs, Will wasn’t sure what to make of this new, flirtatious Daphne. He couldn’t read her enough to get a clear handle on the situation.

  Obviously, she was all in on the charade. But she was ad-libbing backstory—the grant business—and amping up her hotness game to a point where Will wasn’t sure what the end result was supposed to be.

  Was she testing him? Or had she correctly guessed at what would stop him in his tracks, and visibly enough for their friends to notice?

  The next two hours didn’t bring any clarity. They drank and talked and drank some more, with Arielle and Brayden encouraging Will to pay attention to Daphne, and vice versa. But his first-and-only choice for a bride was having a lot of fun playing easy to get, hard to hold on to.

  “I think this should be a whole weekend of celebration,” Daphne said lazily, rocking her thigh back and forth. Will found his attention got stuck there, where her skirt brushed the tan skin of her leg. “Do you want to go dancing, Mr. Billionaire?”

  He jerked his head up. Brayden hadn’t reacted, so maybe she hadn’t said it out loud. “Excuse me?”

  “Dancing tomorrow night,” she murmured. “Are you up for it?”

  “What did you call me?”

  “Mr. Big Shot.” Her eyes twinkled, and he looked sideways at his friend—only to realize Brayden was gone, back at the bar.

  Mr. Big Shot wasn’t better.

  “I’m up for dancing,” he heard himself saying.

  “Excellent.” Her voice was triumphant. “Okay, one more drink, and then I’ll turn into a pumpkin if I don’t get myself home. You never know what could happen if I stay out too late. Next thing you know, I’ll be up on the table and everyone will be able to see my panties.”

  The drink in Will’s hand sloshed against his fingers.

  Daphne patted his arm. “Oh, you’ve spilled. I’ll get you another one when I’m up there.”

  He wasn’t going to survive the night. Dancing tomorrow? He was in over his head. Dragging in a breath, he tried to focus on Brayden and a conversation about work. Except his thoughts kept bumping together and words weren’t coming out right.

  “I might be drunk,” he confessed to his friend, letting his gaze track lazily toward Daphne. Drunk enough to admit he really liked watching her.

  His eyes refocused on her shock of blonde hair, shaking next to the bar. “No,” he imagined her saying. “I’m not interested.”

  Except it wasn’t imagined. She was talking to someone else.

  Fucking hell.

  Will threw himself around the table as the guy—tall, built, tan—leaned in and touched Daphne.

  Everything was blurring in an alarming way, so he wasn’t sure where this douche touched her, but she reacted appropriately—she slapped the asshole before Will reached her side. The guy reared back, and Will lunged between them, catching his big, meaty fist before it connected with Daphne’s face. Will’s fingers tightened as he twisted the man’s entire arm to the side.

  “You want to keep the arm? Because the way I see it, you just tried to punch a woman, and you don’t deserve two arms.” Or any. But Will would dole out the measured response of just ripping one out of its socket. Hopefully it was the one this asshole preferred to jerk off with.

  “Fuck off,” the guy snarled, clearly not understanding just how seriously Will was considering dismemberment.

  “Will, he’s not worth it,” Daphne breathed, wrapped her hands around his biceps.

  His already tense muscles twitched beneath her touch.

  “You’re done,” he rasped, shoving the asshole back into the crowd with a single, forceful shove of his hand. “Get the fuck out of here before I pummel you into the ground.”

  The bartender yelled out. “Hey! Both of you can get the fuck out of here for all I care.”

  “He’s with me,” Daphne said, planting her hands on Will’s chest. “We just need a breather.”

  A breather? He’d stopped that guy from punching her in the face and she was dragg
ing him off like he needed a cooldown?

  She pushed hard, and he stepped back. As soon as she had space to get around him, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him across the patio and away from the lit up space. Away from the crowd and the noise. Into the shadow of the tall grasses on the dunes, which felt dangerous in a way. Private.

  Once they were alone, she propped her hands on her hips. Her dress rucked up on her thighs and he almost missed the start of her lecture. “What was that? I’m a bartender. I know how to duck a punch.”

  He stated the obvious. “You shouldn’t have to.”

  “I usually don’t have a Navy SEAL ready to charge into action to save my face in an overly dramatic and slightly violent way.”

  “Slightly violent? I held back, for the record, when he was ready to pummel you. What the hell did he say to you anyway?”

  “Nothing.”

  “It didn’t look like nothing.” Heat surged through Will’s chest as he replayed the moment when he realized the other man was leering in on Daphne. “It looked like he wanted to get you naked.”

  “I was handling it.”

  Will dragged in a ragged breath. He’d wanted to handle it. He’d wanted to play out their charade to the point where he got to lay delicious claim to this woman, and she wasn’t seeing that. He pressed against her, an entire day’s worth of confusion pulsing hard in his limbs, his chest, his groin. This woman infuriated him. She always had, from day one.

  He’d been lying to her a little when he said he liked her just fine. He did like her. But damn, she got under his skin too. “And then I ended it,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Something wrong, Will?” Her jaw jutted stubbornly as she glared up at him. “Expect me to say thank you?”

  “God no,” he growled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Then he hauled her into his arms and pushed his mouth against hers.

  She tasted like salt and limes and surprise. He shuddered, his lips parting, and she climbed closer, pushing and shoving and kissing and licking. He pulled her lower lip into his mouth before he could convince himself this was a bad idea—because it wasn't, not at all. Nothing bad felt this good.