Lambert's Lady

by Susan Stoker

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Blurb

  A Note to the Reader

  Chapter 1

  Also by Susan Stoker

  About the Author

  Protecting Dakota Sample

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Lambert’s Lady

  Sleeper SEALs, Book 13

  Susan Stoker

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Susan Stoker

  No part of this work may be used, stored, reproduced or transmitted without written permission from the publisher except for brief quotations for review purposes as permitted by law.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Edited by Kelli Collins

  Cover Design by Chris Mackey, AURA Design Group

  Manufactured in the United States

  Contents

  Blurb

  A Note to the Reader

  Chapter 1

  Also by Susan Stoker

  About the Author

  Protecting Dakota Sample

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Blurb

  Retired Navy Commander Greg Lambert took on a top-secret assignment at the request of the government, heading a Ghost Ops project to combat terrorists on American soil. Twelve Sleeper SEALs, twelve successful missions, twelve men who all discovered it’s never too late to find a happy ever after.

  Now the job is over…and it’s time for Greg to claim his own second chance at love.

  ** Lambert’s Lady is the 13th book in the Sleeper SEAL series. Each book in the series is by a different author and is a stand-alone, with no cliffhanger ending. This short story can be ready at any time in the series without giving any spoiler information away about the books.

  A Note to the Reader

  A special thank you to every reader who picked up any of the Sleeper SEAL books! It was very fun collaborating with all the authors to get this series written.

  The common thread for each of the books in the Sleeper SEAL series is, of course, Commander Greg Lambert. We knew when we started that he would also need his Happily Ever After.

  I am thrilled to be able to give it to you!

  It’s short, sweet, and oh so kick butt.

  This story can be read at any point in the series. It’s written from the standpoint of Greg Lambert AFTER all 12 former SEALs have been successful in their missions he’s given them, but if you can’t wait until you’ve read all 12 books, you can read it early!

  Chapter One

  Lambert’s Lady

  Retired Navy Commander, Greg Lambert hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. Putting his arms behind his head he stared sightlessly at the phone he’d just put down on his desk top. He’d heard thirty minutes ago from the twelfth “Sleeper SEAL” he’d hired to combat home-grown terrorism. He’d been successful and taken down the terrorist who’d planned an attack on fellow Americans.

  Not only that, but the former Navy SEAL informed Greg that he’d found the love of his life. Greg smiled. They all had. Every single one of the twelve men he’d hired to take down terrorists who’d infiltrated their country had somehow managed to find a woman who completed him and who had no issues standing by his side.

  He hadn’t started out to be a matchmaker, but it felt damn good to know men he respected and admired had been able to let down their guards to find happiness.

  And that thought led him to thinking about his own life. His kids were grown and living lives of their own. His wife, Karen, had died almost five years ago from cancer. He’d expected to retire from the Navy and spend the rest of his life with her. Traveling the world and relaxing and for once not worrying about politics or what the terrorists were doing now.

  That wasn’t the way it turned out and Greg had been bitter for a long time. But his friends, the Vice President of the United States, the Secretary of State, and one of the highest ranking men in the CIA, had come to him and begged him to organize and hire the Sleeper SEALs to combat terrorism.

  Sitting up suddenly, Greg moved toward the door. Ever since his first Sleeper SEAL had called to inform him that the threat had been neutralized, he’d gone out for a celebratory drink. Now that the twelfth, and final, SEAL had reported in, he was eager to have that drink.

  Greg shook his head at himself. No, he wasn’t eager for the drink. He was eager to see the woman who made that drink.

  Sheridan Temple.

  At first he hadn’t paid much attention to the gregarious and outgoing bartender. He’d been content to sit at the bar and soak up the ambiance of the place. But little by little, as he visited the hole-in-the-wall bar for his celebratory drinks, he’d began talking to her…and realizing that his libido didn’t die with his beloved wife after all.

  Sheridan was younger than him by around a decade or so. She had long dark blonde hair that she freely admitted to keeping that way by making bi-monthly visits to her hairdresser. She was rounded in all the right places, namely her tits and ass. She smiled all the time and made Greg relax simply by being near her.

  When he first came to the bar he’d ordered his bourbon, drank it, and left. Slowly over the last months, however, he’d nursed his drink, and talked with Sheridan. Every time he visited, he closed down the bar and walked the pretty bartender home, making sure no one messed with her as she walked the two blocks to her apartment.

  Greg had planned on being single for the rest of this life. Even his departed wife’s mean ol’ Chihuahua had finally passed away at the age of fifteen and a half a couple months ago. But with every visit to Sheridan’s bar, he realized that he wanted more.

  And knew Sheridan did too.

  She’d come right out and told him so one night.

  He’d walked her home and was standing in front of her apartment doors. She’d surprised him by standing up on tip-toe and kissing him. She might’ve made the first move, but Greg wasn’t an idiot. He’d immediately kissed her back, pressing her back against the wall of her apartment building.

  After several minutes of making out like teenagers, she’d pulled back and looked him straight in the eye. “I want more.”

  “More what?” Greg had asked.

  “More than long talks at the bar and you walking me home. I want you to come up and spend the night. I want to cook you breakfast, wearing only your shirt, and have the right to call you whenever I feel like it.”

  Greg had blinked and stared at her like an idiot. “You do?”

  She’d smiled at him. “Yeah, Greg. I do. Think about it. I’ll see you later.”

  That conversation had happened a month ago and Greg had done a lot of thinking since then. He’d been hesitant because of his job as leader of the Ghost Ops. The Sleeper SEALs. But now that it was done, he felt comfortable enough to go after what he wanted for once in his life. Screw politics. Screw doing what everyone thought he should. He wanted to spend the night in Sheridan’s bed and have her spend the night in his. He wanted her in his kitchen making him breakfast, and wanted the right to come up behind her and bend her over the table and show her how appreciati
ve he was of her.

  He might not be twenty-five anymore, but he’d masturbated to the thought of having Sheridan’s lush curves under him, and over him, and in his shower, and bent over his couch, every night since she’d told him she wanted to be with him.

  Tonight was the night. He was free of his obligation to the CIA and he was going to tell Sheridan that she was his.

  A smile spread over Greg’s face as he left his condo. He couldn’t wait.

  Sheridan Temple smiled toward the door when she heard the bell ring indicating someone had entered. She was tired and a little heartsick. Figured that the first man she’d gotten up the nerve to tell him exactly what she wanted had run and not looked back after she’d done it.

  Greg Lambert was the sexiest man she’d ever seen, and that was saying a lot since she worked as a bartender and had seen a lot of good looking men. But there was just something about Greg that did it for her. His black hair was too long, he’d admitted to liking it that way since he’d always had to keep it shorn close to his head when he was in the Navy. He had a beard and mustache that Sheridan wondered more than once how it would feel brushing against her inner thighs. He looked younger than his fifty years, even with the big of gray showing in his beard. He was slender, yet muscular, and a few inches taller than she was. But more than his good looks, it was his take-charge attitude that made her wet between her legs.

  At first he’d just been another customer, but as she’d gotten to know him over the last year or so he’d become more to her. She knew he was retired from the Navy and still working as a consultant in some form or another with the government. She knew he was a widow and had a couple of grown kids. She knew he liked to drink expensive bourbon and that he was a breast man. She hadn’t missed the way his eyes were drawn to her cleavage every time she bent over to get a glass or pick up something that had fallen on the floor.

  But what really got to her was that he saw her. He didn’t look down on her because she was a bartender in a piece of crap bar. He didn’t seem to care that she was older than most bartenders. When she’d brought it up, he’d simply asked, “Do you enjoy it?” And when she said that she did, he’d replied, “Then screw what everyone thinks.”

  She’d pretty much fallen head over heels for him right there.

  But it had taken another couple months for her to get up the courage to make a move. It was obvious he was too much of a gentleman to do it himself. So once night, after he’d walked her home, she’d taken a deep breath and kissed him.

  And what a kiss.

  Sheridan had been married once. Granted, it had only lasted for four years before she’d divorced the cheating asshole, but she’d had her share of men. But one kiss from Greg Lambert and she was gone.

  She might’ve instigated the kiss, but he’d immediately taken over. She still remembered the feel of his hand at the nape of her neck holding her still as he devoured her mouth. His beard and mustache were surprisingly soft against her. As he kissed her, his free hand had moved up to rest on her side, his thumb brushing on the underside of her boob. He hadn’t gotten fresh with her, but oh how she wanted him to.

  Her only excuse for what she’d said after he’d finally pulled back was that her brain was still short circuited from that kiss. She’d told him that she wanted him. That she wanted to cook him breakfast, practically naked. She was such an idiot.

  Obviously she was an idiot because she hadn’t seen him since when he’d been coming in at least twice a week for the last few months.

  Sighing, wanting to be anywhere but at the bar, Sheridan pasted the fake-smile she’d perfected over the last month on her face and turned toward the door when the little bell rang announcing another arrival.

  “Evenin’,” she called out. “Sit anywhere you want. Someone will be with you in a moment.”

  The last word was barely out of her mouth when she realized it was none other than the object of her late night fantasies, Greg Lambert, who had walked in the door.

  Flustered, Sheridan wasn’t sure what to do when he strode straight for her. She wanted to be coy and cool, but since she hadn’t seen him since her embarrassing proposal, she couldn’t do anything but stand stock still.

  Greg walked straight for her, his dark eyes piercing in their intensity. She couldn’t look away.

  He came right up to the bar and leaned toward her. “Come here.”

  Sheridan’s brows furrowed. She took a step closer to him, the large bartop still between them. She held a glass in one hand and a warm dishrag in the other. She’d been washing and rinsing the glasses for use later. When she got close enough, Greg reached out and took her face between his hands and pulled her toward him. Sheridan stumbled, but her belly hit the side of the bar, steading her.

  Without a word, Greg leaned down and kissed her. Not a peck on the lips either. His tongue ran along the seam of her lips until she opened for him, and then he plunged inside. Sheridan’s eyes closed and she leaned into him, letting him hold her steady as he laid claim to her.

  Her eyes opened as his lips left hers and she was aware the the other patrons in the bar were cheering and clapping. She knew her cheeks were probably red, but she refused to break eye contact with Greg.

  “Yes,” he said huskily, licking his bottom lip sensuously. “I want that too.”

  “What?” Sheridan asked in confusion.

  “You. In my bed. In my kitchen. Under me, over me, anyway I can get you.”

  “Oh.”

  He grinned and ran his thumb along her jawline, making her shiver all over again. “Is the offer still open?”

  Sheridan cleared her throat. “Depends.”

  “On?”

  “On whether or not it took you a month for you to talk yourself into it, or if it took a month for you to try to talk yourself out of it.”

  He chuckled and let go. She immediately felt the loss of his touch, but forced herself to stand up straight. She wasn’t sure he understood what she meant by her words. She didn’t want him for if he had to force himself to date her. She knew he had baggage, she did too. But him not coming to the bar for a month wasn’t exactly the reaction she had in mind when she’d propositioned him.

  “I didn’t stay away because you had the balls to make the first move, Sher,” Greg said, and she almost melted at the term of endearment. “I didn’t need to talk myself into or out of wanting you. That’s always been a given. I’ve wanted you since that first time we closed down the bar together.”

  “Why did you stay away then?”

  “I’m free,” he said.

  Sheridan frowned in confusion. “Free?”

  “My last commitment has been cleared up. I got the call tonight.”

  She nodded. He’d told her the very basics, enough for her to know he was in charge of a group of men who were doing top secret things to keep the country safe. “Good.”

  “Since I’m free, I can concentrate on other things. On you, Sher. I can concentrate on you.”

  Another shiver ran through her. His gaze dropped for just a moment from her eyes, to her chest, then back up. She smiled. “Is that so?”

  “Yeah. So the answer is yes.”

  “I’m not a one-night stand,” she warned, putting the now dry glass down.

  It was his turn to frown. His eyes turned angry. “Damn straight you aren’t,” he said immediately. “We’re both too old for that shit.”

  “So we’re what? Friends with benefits?” she asked, wanting to get it all straight now so she could guard her heart from falling in love with him if he wasn’t looking for the same.

  Greg leaned forward again and Sheridan held her breath, eager to hear his answer. But just then a man four barstools down her them called out, “I need another one, Sheridan. That is if you’re done eye-fucking the Commander there.”

  Others around them laughed and Sheridan couldn’t help but roll her eyes. The men and women who came to the bar night after night were practically family, but right then she could’ve killed o
l’ Jack. She turned her head and yelled, “Keep your shirt on. Jeez.”

  “Go on,” Greg said, stepping to the left and taking a seat on what she considered “his” barstool. “This can wait.”

  She wanted to disagree. Wanted to tell him that, no, it couldn’t wait. That she wanted to know what he was going to classify their relationship as…but instead she simply nodded. “You want your usual?”

  Greg nodded. “Celebrating tonight, Sher. And not just the success of my latest victory.”

  She understood what he meant and smiled shyly.

  “Be back with your bourbon, Greg.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  Sheridan nodded and turned away from him to get Jack another beer. But she made sure to shake her ass a little more as she did it just in case Greg was watching.

  Greg sipped his bourbon and was hard pressed to take his eyes off of Sheridan. Tonight she was wearing a tight pair of jeans that hugged her legs as if they were painted on. Her ass looked delicious and he couldn’t wait to feel her thighs wrapped around his hips as he took her. His late-wife had been slender. Almost too slender. She’d constantly been worried about her looks and what the other Officer wives and the snakes of Washington thought about her.

  But Sheridan was all woman. Every curvy inch. She didn’t give two shits what others thought about her. He’d seen her knock catty women down with simply a look when they dared say disparaging things about her to their friends. Sheridan might be on the other side of forty, but Greg could honestly say he’d never been as hard for a woman as he was right then.

  The black tank top she had on was tight, and hugged her tits. Every time she bent over he could see her cleavage. And he swore she was bending over more and more, simply to torment him.