by Zoe York
“And did you?”
Will shook his head. “Not really. But it doesn’t matter.” He waved his hand. “This is my world now.”
“We’ll miss you on the west coast.”
“Ah, we’ll come back sometimes. Daphne liked my rooftop patio.”
“So that’s it. You’re really moving here for good.”
He nodded. “Yep. This is where I want to be. I want to build a company with these guys and create something really tangible.”
“Amazing.”
“Maybe if you decide to ever get out…”
“One day. We’ll be back.” Quinn smiled lazily and gestured in the general direction of the high-end resorts where they’d stayed when they came down for Mick and Cara’s wedding. “This is where Leah seduced me, after all.”
“I didn’t need to know that,” Will said dryly.
“It’s also not true,” his sister-in-law said with a light laugh as she joined them. “Your brother pursued me pretty hard.”
Will got up, giving Leah his seat. “I’ll let you hash that out. I need to find my bride.”
He saw her as soon as he turned. She was curled up between her best friends, whispering and drinking wine and looking gloriously happy.
Instead of joining them, he watched her. Listened to them laugh and murmur, and wished he’d confessed his attraction that first night they’d met.
She’d called him a selfish, out-of-touch, navel-gazing dillhole, and he’d fallen in love. He’d resisted it, of course. Sank into the brand and lived up to every word, because she wasn’t going to peg him.
No way.
He was his own man, and sure, there was something about her, but no way could she call him out like that.
Except she’d been right. And he’d been a fool.
Now he was hers, and she could point out every single moment he was selfish—and he’d do his best to make them few and far between.
As if she could tell he was thinking about her, she looked up and around, finding him quickly. “What are you doing, lurking like a creeper?” she called out.
“Watching my stunning wife,” he said.
And it was the truth.
“Okay,” she said, waving her bottle of bubbly. “Everyone leave, I want to have sex with my husband. We’ll see you tomorrow!”
That got a round of laughs, but she stood up and shooed them with her hands.
Oh. Will’s cock thickened in interest. She wasn’t kidding.
“You don’t need to go home,” she said in her sexiest bartender voice. “But you can’t—”
He jumped forward, landing in front of her. “Baby,” he said under his breath. “Let’s give them a few minutes to say their goodbyes. Maybe?”
She blinked at him slowly. “I didn’t eat very much food today.”
“I see that.”
“And I love you.”
He grinned. “I love you, too.”
“I think we’re going to see ourselves off the Love Boat anyway,” someone said from behind them.
He turned his head. Brayden was grinning.
Well, at least their friends no longer had any doubt they were all over each other.
Arielle and Cara cleaned up the food platters, leaving enough leftovers for Daphne to have a midnight snack after sex—and they put it like that, too.
His wife clapped for their kindness.
Will found himself blushing.
And once they’d all left, he was uncharacteristically nervous. Part of it was that he didn’t want to take advantage of Daphne while she was blitzed, but another part was that this was, in some ways, their first real night together.
That had been their wedding reception.
And this was their first true night together as husband and wife. No doubts, no drama, no more lies between them.
“Do you want to take a shower?” he asked. “Freshen up?”
“That’s a great idea.” She stretched out great until it took up the space of three or four words in her sentence.
He grabbed both of their shower bags from below. He wasn’t sure she was going to be able to navigate the ladder with ease.
But she surprised him by nimbly climbing off the boat.
“Wait, are you not that drunk?” he asked as they headed up the dock to the shower facilities.
She shrugged. “It was a lovely surprise. But I wanted them gone.”
“You devilish woman!”
She waggled her eyebrows at him in the moonlight.
He stopped just short of the showers and drew her into his arms. “Any chance I can convince you that we shower together now?”
She pursed her lips. “It is technically against the rules. I’m pretty sure there’s a no-sex-in-the-shower clause in my rental agreement.”
“But I’ll wash your hair.”
“Then in that case, let’s be quiet.”
He kissed her nose and whispered, “Lead the way.”
After they’d scrubbed each other all over, he wrapped his arms around her slick body and held her close again. “I have a humble suggestion.”
“What’s that?”
“As much fun as it is to live on your boat and shower in a communal space, I do have the resources to buy a house for us.”
She nodded. “You do.”
“And I plan to keep showering with my wife, so at some point, someone’s going to hear us having sex in here, and it’s going to get awkward at marina parties.”
Another nod. “Good point.”
“It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Whatever you want.”
She leaned forward, putting her head into the water. He traced the vertebrae on her back, one bump slowly leading into the next. His favorite part of her body was probably the faded, blurry tan lines that came from wearing different bathing suits, all of them covering different parts of her body, but almost all bisecting her back below her shoulder blades.
Daphne didn’t care about tanning that line away. She was too busy working hard, playing hard, loving hard.
He’d buy her whatever shack she wanted, but that it was next to the ocean was non-negotiable. He wanted her to have her boat always at hand, in case she wanted—needed—to get out on the water for the day.
He would never take her freedom away from her. He knew how hard she’d fought for it.
Slowly, she spun under the spray. Her torso twisted in his hands, her breasts brushing his fingers.
Then she looked at him as she righted herself. And she smiled. “I might want something a tiny bit fancy. I got a taste of a rooftop patio in California, you see…”
He swooped over her, covering her mouth in a loving, joyous kiss.
It would be done. Whatever she wanted, he would make it happen.
Forever.
Epilogue
A year later
When Daphne’s phone lit up and Gill’s name was on the screen, she was seriously tempted not to answer.
The past twelve months hadn’t done much to endear her husband’s lawyer to her. Gill hadn’t shown up again on Miralinda, but both times they’d traveled to California—once for Will’s business reasons, the other for Daphne’s own—she’d been cool and distant.
Of course, if Daphne didn’t want Gill blowing up her phone, she probably should have replied to the lawyer’s emails in the last few weeks.
Three of them, the last one yesterday.
She’d ignored them all. They sat, unopened, in her inbox.
With a sigh, she set aside the hair cream recipe she was working on and tapped the green button to answer the call.
“Hello?” she called out after turning on the speakerphone.
“Daphne.”
“Yes, you called me Gill, I know who I am.”
“I’m outside.”
“Outside…where?”
“Your studio.”
“Oh.” Daphne whirled around. Was go away not an appropriate response? “Okay.”
“May I come in?”
No was on the tip of
her tongue, but it wasn’t kind. “Sure, the door is open.”
The call disconnected and a moment later the impeccably dressed attorney swept into the airy space. Daphne was proud of her studio. Instead of going whole hog into manufacturing, which had never been her passion, she used this space to come up with different recipes. She sold a limited run of each product through direct sales here on the island and through her website, and then sold the recipes to larger cosmetic companies willing to partner with her brand.
It was a slick business plan Will had been instrumental in helping her set into place.
And most of the time, it meant she got to work all by herself in the most beautiful environment. But right now, it also meant she was alone with a woman who intimidated the hell out of her.
“Welcome,” she said more smoothly than she felt.
“How is business?” Gill set a thick folder on the edge of the worktop in the middle of the room.
“Great.”
“Good.” Gill waited a beat. “And how is Will?”
“Fine.” Daphne frowned. “Why?”
“I haven’t talked to him in a while. Hence my arrival on the island, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found at Villa Sucre.”
Oh. Hmm. That was weird. She actually expected him to arrive shortly, with a picnic, because she’d been planning to work late tonight to get a new run of hair products ready.
She didn’t want to share her picnic with Gill.
And if Will had been dodging his lawyer, Daphne wouldn’t put him in her path.
She picked up her phone. “How about I call him and let him know you’re here?”
Gill shook her head. “I’m really here to see you.”
“Me?”
“To release you from your contract.”
“My what?” But as she said it, she remembered. Her face turned hot and her stomach twisted. “No, that’s not—”
“It’s just a matter of some paperwork,” Gill said.
“I don’t want any paperwork.”
“You signed a legally binding contract.”
“I don’t care,” she yelled, just as the door swung open.
Will filled the sunny space, making him backlit. It was hard to see his face, but she could feel his frustration rolling across the studio.
Gill threw her hands in the air. “Before either of you go batshit on me, I’m only here to discharge the contract that binds you together. Nothing nefarious, no trouble.” And then she swore under her breath.
Daphne looked at her in confusion, then back to Will. He was closer now, his face clearer, and he, too, looked confused.
Gill swore again, this time quite clearly. “Fucked up romantic bullshit, I’m just saying.”
“Pardon?” Will’s eyebrows hit the sky.
His lawyer rolled her eyes, and suddenly Daphne liked her. Not just tolerated, but hello, sarcasm, where had you been, old friend?
“Do you two not remember signing a legally binding agreement to stay married for a year?”
“Sure, but…” Daphne trailed off. “That was, you know. Before.”
Will scowled. “You can tear those up.”
Gill shook her head. “I really can’t. Fiduciary responsibility and all that jazz. But if you would answer my emails, either of you, then you would know that all you need to do is sign on a few dotted lines, and your marriage would be released—on paper—into the exact type of freedom you already enjoy.”
Will’s scowl didn’t change. “I’m not following.”
Gill shrugged. “I don’t care. I’m heading to the resort to have a date with a Pina colada.” She gestured at the thick folder. “You had fun signing these the first time. Take your time with them now. I’ll be around all week at the resort.”
And with that, like a whirlwind of glossy red lips and shiny black hair, she was gone.
Daphne blinked at Will.
He was still scowling.
“What’s wrong?”
“I was hoping that we could just skip the part where you had an out,” he said with a rough edge to his voice.
She dashed around the workbench and stopped right in front of him. “What?”
He had the good grace to look bashful. “You know.”
“I don’t.”
“I love you.”
She laughed. “I love you too. And?”
“And I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t.”
“Great.”
“Good.” She stuck out her tongue.
He set his hands on her hips and lifted her effortlessly, so she could sit on the workbench. She spread her legs and he fit right against her. “I also don’t like revisiting how we started,” he murmured quietly, a frank admission that tore at her chest.
“It’s a part of our story, though.” She softly brushed her fingers against his cheek. “Our secret story. Maybe one day we’ll tell the grandkids about it, once it’s long in the past.”
“Grandkids?” His eyes lit up.
That was a dirty trick. She wasn’t sorry.
They’d been talking about babies for a few months. She was still on the pill and in no rush. But suddenly, she wasn’t in a non-rush, either.
“Want to practice?” She leaned in and brushed her lips against his mouth. “Because sometime soon, mister, I’m totally going to want you to knock me up.”
He picked her up, and she shrieked as he carried her to the curtained nook at the back of the studio where she had a desk and a mini-fridge and, most importantly, a very comfortable daybed.
Keep reading in the ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights series… Cherished by the SEAL is next!
A hot bride, an island honeymoon, and a suitcase full of bikinis. So what if he’s not the groom?
Navy SEAL Logan Dwyer has been Victoria Fletcher’s best friend since second grade, and has had a hopeless, secret crush on her for at least half his life. But Tori deserves a man that can be there for her whenever she needs it.
Not a warrior. Not a guy who spends more time in jungles and war zones than at home.
But when she’s left at the altar, and decides to salvage her honeymoon if someone can go with her…Logan can’t help but volunteer.
Seven days on the Caribbean island of Miralinda. Seven hot, unexpected nights.
One week to figure out if this is just a rebound fling, or if the only woman he’s ever loved might just see him as something more than her safe, sexy and willing best friend.
Anne Marsh and Kat Cantrell also write Navy SEAL romances set in the Caribbean. You can read Finn Callahan’s story in Anne’s Player.
And Kat Cantrell has a long Navy SEAL series set on Duchess Island! Start with Claiming Her SEAL.
All links at www.navysealromance.com
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About the Author
Zoe York lives in London, Ontario with her young family. An author of more than twenty sexy small town and military romances, she is a fan of heroes that could be swoon-worthy in real life, and heroines that could be her best friends. She's currently chugging Americanos, wiping sticky fingers, and dreaming of heroes in and out of uniform.
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Website: www.zoeyork.com
Newsletter: www.smarturl.it/ZoeYorkNewsletter
Copyright
2018 Zoe York
All Rights Reserved
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