Seal Team Ten

by Brockmann, Suzanne

  "It's also a little less certain," Jake pointed out. "I mean, you don't know for sure he's going to offer you the job."

  Zoe gave him a look. "It's a hot tub party, Jake. He'll offer me the job."

  Hot tub. Jake cleared his throat. Hot tub.

  "Don't worry, I'll keep my bathing suit on," she assured him with a smile.

  Somehow that didn't make him feel any better.

  "So after I get this job waitressing at Mel's, what then?" she asked. "I mean, obviously, I'll be in place to act as a go-between for any communication between you and the rest of the team."

  He nodded. "It might be a while before I can come into town. I know the CRO rules are pretty complicated—I might have to pass some sort of loyalty test before I have free run of the place. But once I do come into the bar, I'll,

  um..." He managed a weak smile. "Well, I'll hit on you. I'm sorry—but I think that's the cleanest way to explain why we're going to spend so much time whispering into each other's ears. If you could set it up—tell people you're a little older than you really are, they might believe there could be something between us."

  Zoe's heartbeat tripled in time. Jake Robinson was going to hit on her. They were going to spend time cozied up together. True, it was only to pass information, but she could go far on a fantasy like that. She kept her voice low and controlled. "I think we can make them believe we're attracted to each other. Our difference in ages is not that big a deal."

  "I'm old enough to be your father."

  "So what? You can pretend you're going through some kind of midlife crisis, and I'll let everyone know I prefer more mature men. Experienced men." Gorgeous, incredi­bly buff, blue-eyed, heroic men...

  "I just don't want it to come off as such an obvious setup. You know, the first time I come into the bar... A beautiful young woman like you..."

  "Jake, the first time you go into that bar, the women are going to be lining up to meet you. I'll have to fight to get to the front of that line." She laughed in disbelief at the look on his face. "You'd think after fifty-three years of looking into the bathroom mirror every morning, you might've noticed you're the most handsome man on the planet."

  His laughter was tinged with embarrassment. God, he really didn't know what he looked like, did he?

  "Well, thanks for your vote of confidence, but—"

  Zoe wanted to reach for his hand to squeeze it, to reas­sure him that this would work, but she didn't dare touch him.

  "I'll set everything up," she said. "I'll set up the fact that I'm looking to have a fling, too."

  "Not just a fling," he corrected her almost apologeti cally. "I'm going to need a way to get you into the CRO compound. I'll need your expertise in there to help me find the missing canisters of T-X. And the only way for a woman to get inside is..."

  "Through marriage."

  Her laughter sounded almost giddy to her ears. This as­signment was a dream assignment to start with, Hal Francke's anticipated groping aside. She was working with Jake Robinson, the man who had always been her own personal poster model for the word hero. Whenever she'd imagined her perfect man, he'd always had Jake's steely nerve, his long list of achievements, and yes, his deep blue eyes.

  And now this dream assignment was going to have her pretend she was marrying her hero. He was going to have to kiss her, hold her in his arms. To marry her. Could it possibly get any better?

  Yes, he could kiss her, and mean it. And maybe, just maybe she could make that happen.

  "It won't be real," he told her hastily, misreading her laughter. "The way I understand it, Christopher Vincent performs any wedding ceremonies among his followers. There's no paperwork or licenses filled out. They don't believe in state intervention when it comes to marriage."

  He looked at his hands, at the wedding ring he wore.

  "It won't be real," he said again, as if he were trying to convince himself of that fact.

  Zoe sat across from him, her elation instantly subdued. "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked him quietly. "You'll have to take off your wedding ring."

  Jake looked at his left hand again. "I know." He fin­gered it with his thumb. "That's okay. It doesn't really mean anything anyway. We were only married a few days before she died."

  Wait a minute... "Crash told me you and Daisy were together for just short of forever."

  "Daisy didn't believe in marriage," he told her simply.

  "She only married me at the end, because it was the only thing she had left to give me." He took off the ring, letting it spin on the table in front of him.

  "You must really miss her."

  "Yeah. She was pretty incredible." He caught the ring deftly, midspin, and slipped it into his pants pocket. "I should probably get used to not wearing this."

  He looked so sad, Zoe ached for him. "You know, Jake—we could think of another way to do this."

  He met her eyes. "I suppose I could call Pat Sullivan and see if Gregor Winston's available to take over for you."

  Zoe reacted. "Gregor's not half as qualified as—"

  Jake was smiling at her. "As you are," he finished for her. "Yeah, that's why I requested you."

  "But he's a man," she pointed out unnecessarily. "He could get into the CRO without having to marry you."

  "Thank goodness." Jake's smile faded as he gazed at her. "Look, I'm all right with this, Zoe. But if it makes you feel uncomfortable..."

  She looked at his hands, now ringless. He had big hands, with neat nails and broad, strong fingers. She even found his hands outrageously attractive.

  Uncomfortable was not the word to describe the way she felt about this assignment.

  She tried to make a joke. "Are you kidding? I have no problem letting Hal Francke grope me. Why should it bother me if I have to let you do the same?"

  It wasn't true. The part about Hal. Despite what she'd told Jake, she hated it when men touched her, when she had to use her body in any way while on the job. But there were times when dressing seductively got her further. And as for letting men touch her...

  She'd learned to pretend it was nothing, to be flip about it. She was a tough, professional Agency operative. She shouldn't give a damn about something as meaningless as that. And although she also pretended her casualness ex tended all the way to the act of sex, she'd always drawn the line well before that. Always.

  "Are you telling me you'd sleep with this guy?" Jake had asked about Hal Francke.

  She'd purposely sidestepped his question, avoiding a di­rect answer. It wouldn't do her a bit of good to make her team leader believe she needed to be protected. As nice as it might be in some fantasy to have Jake ready to rush to her side, to protect her from the Hal Franckes of the world, this was reality.

  And if he thought she was weak—in any way—she'd spend this entire mission inside the safety of the surveil­lance van.

  "I'm going to have to make it look real," he told her. "You know, when I come into the bar."

  "I will, too," she told him. "So don't freak out when I grab your butt, all right?"

  He laughed, but it was decidedly halfhearted, and she knew what he was thinking. The last woman to grab his butt had been his wife.

  Zoe pushed herself up and out of the booth, tossing her empty soda can into the recycling bin. "Do you want..." She stopped. It seemed so forward of her to ask—and that wasn't even considering her suggestion implied a lack of ability on the admiral's part.

  But he could read her mind. "You're afraid I'm going to get stiff," he said, then winced realizing his poor word choice. "Tense up," he quickly corrected himself. "You're afraid I'm going to tense up."

  Zoe couldn't keep from laughing, and Jake joined in, shaking his head. "Jeez," he said. "This is awkward, isn't it?"

  She held out her hand to him. "Come here."

  He hesitated, just looking at her, a curious mix of emo­tions in his eyes. He shook his head. "Zoe, I don't think..."

  "Just come here."

  With a sigh, he slid from t
he booth, the powerful muscles in his arms standing out in sharp relief as he pushed himself up. Dressed the way he was in a body-hugging black T-­shirt and black BDU pants, she could see he was in better shape than most men half his age. He looked like some kind of dream come true. Why couldn't he see that?

  "I don't need to, you know, practice this," he said, even as he took her hand. "It's not like it's something I've for­gotten how to do."

  "But this way, the mystery's gone," she told him. "This way you don't have to spend any time in the bar thinking about the fact that Daisy was the last woman you held in your arms. This way you'll be able to concentrate on mak­ing it look real, on getting the job done."

  She slipped her arms around him, but he just stood there, arms at his side, swearing very, very softly.

  "Come on, Jake," she said. "This is just make-believe." She said it as much to remind herself of that fact.

  He smelled too good. He felt too good. His body fit too perfectly with hers.

  And slowly, very slowly, he put his arms around her.

  Zoe rested her head on his shoulder, aware of the sol-idness of his chest against her breasts, the tautness of his thighs against hers, the complete warmth of his arms.

  He slowly rested his cheek against her head, and she felt him sigh.

  "You all right?" she whispered.

  "Yeah." He pulled back, away from her, forcing a smile. "Thank you. This was a...smart idea. Because I am a little tense, aren't I?"

  "You should probably kiss me."

  He looked as if she'd suggested he use the neighbor's cat for target practice. "Oh, I don't think—"

  "Jake, I'm sorry, but you are not a little tense, you are so tense. If you come into that bar and hold me so politely like that, as if I'm your grandmother..."

  He couldn't argue, because he knew it was true. "I'm not sure I'm ready to—"

  "Then maybe we better come up with another plan. Maybe we should be trying to figure out a way to get Cow­boy or Lucky into the CRO compound. If you can't handle this—"

  Something sparked in his eyes. "I didn't say I couldn't handle this. I meant that I wasn't ready to deal with this right now."

  "If you can't do it now, how're you going to do it in a week or two?" she asked. "Come on, Jake. Try again. And this time hold me like you want to be inside me."

  The something that had sparked in his eyes flared into fire. "Well, hell, that shouldn't be too hard to do."

  He pulled her to him almost roughly and held her tightly, his thigh between her legs, her body anchored against him by his hand on her rear end.

  She felt almost faint. "Much better," she said weakly. "Now kiss me."

  He didn't move. He just gazed at her, that hypnotizing heat smoldering in his eyes.

  After several long moments, he still didn't move, so she kissed him.

  It was a small kiss, a delicate caress of his beautiful mouth with her lips. And he still didn't move.

  But he was breathing hard as she pulled back to look at him, as if he'd just run a five-mile race. His eyes were the most brilliant shade of blue she'd ever seen in her life.

  She kissed him again, and this time he finally moved.

  He lowered his head and caught her mouth with his and then, God, he was kissing her. Really kissing her. Soul kiss­ing her.

  She angled her head to kiss him even more deeply, pull­ing his tongue hard into her mouth, wanting more, more.

  He tasted like sweetened coffee, like everything she'd ever wanted, like a lifetime of fantasies finally coming true.

  He pressed her even more tightly against him as she

  clung to him, as still he kissed her, harder, deeper, end­lessly, his passion—like hers—skyrocketing completely off the scale, his hands skimming her body as she strained to get closer, closer....

  And then Jake finally tore his mouth away from hers. "My God." He looked completely shocked, thoroughly stunned.

  Zoe still held onto him tightly, her knees too weak to support her weight. "That was...very believable."

  "Yeah," he agreed, breathing hard. "Very believable."

  "Good to know we can make that seem...so believ­able."

  He pulled free from her embrace and turned away. "Yeah. That's good to know."

  She had to lean against the counter.

  "Look," he said, his back to her, "it's really late and I have some things I need to do before morning, so..."

  He wanted her to leave. Zoe moved carefully toward the door. "I hope sleep is on that list." She tried to sound lighthearted, tried to sound as if her entire world hadn't just tilted on its axis.

  He laughed quietly. "Yeah, well, sleep's pretty low pri­ority these days. If I don't get to it tonight, there's always tomorrow."

  She paused with her hand on the doorknob. "Jake, that kiss—it wasn't real. We just made it look real."

  He turned and gazed at her then, the expression in his eyes completely unreadable.

  "Yeah," he said quietly. "I know that."

  Chapter 4

  Let's do it!" Harvard said, but stopped short as he

  caught sight of Jake. "Admiral. You're joining us for a run this morning, sir?"

  "Do you have a problem with that, Senior Chief?"

  "Well...no, of course not, sir." Harvard didn't say the word but. He didn't have to. It was implied.

  Jake held onto the side of the team's beat-up station wagon for balance as he stretched the muscles in first one thigh and then the other. He kept his expression pleasant, his voice easygoing. "Say what you're thinking, H. If we're going to be a team, we can't keep secrets from each other."

  "I guess I was thinking, sir, that if / were an Admiral, you wouldn't find me volunteering for PT at oh-seven-hundred on a morning after I'd been out on a sneak and peek until oh-three-hundred."

  Jake looked at the faces of his men. And woman. Zoe was there, dressed in running gear that might as well have been painted onto her. He looked away from her, refusing

  to let himself think about last night. Refusing to think about that incredible kiss.

  "Cowboy here was out as late as I was," he pointed out. "Lucky and Wes, too. In fact, who here closed their eyes last night before oh-three-thirty?"

  No one.

  Jake smiled. "So like you said, Senior, let's do it. I'm as ready as you are."

  Harvard looked at Cowboy, and Cowboy nodded, very slightly.

  The message couldn't have been more clear if he'd sig­naled with flags.

  Don't let the old man hurt himself.

  Jeez.

  Harvard set the pace, taking the road that led in a two-mile loop around the campground at an unchallenging jog.

  And no one complained. In fact, they hung way back, letting Jake be way out ahead, up with Harvard.

  Not a single one of 'em thought Jake could keep up with them. Not even Billy or Mitch.

  It would have been funny if it weren't so damned so­bering. If his team didn't think he could keep up with them on a morning run, there wouldn't be much they'd trust him to do.

  But then Zoe broke free from where she'd been blocked in, in the back, kicking her pace until she'd moved up alongside Jake. She didn't say a word. She just made a face, clearly scornful of the slow and steady pace. And then she lifted one eyebrow, her message again quite clear. Shall we?

  Stop thinking of that kiss. God, he had to stop thinking about that kiss. Shall we run? she'd meant. As in run faster.

  Jake nodded. Yeah. He turned and gave the senior chief his best-buddy smile. "Hey, H, how many times around this loop do you figure you'll go?"

  Harvard smiled back. He clearly liked Jake. But this wasn't about being liked. "Oh, I figure twice'11 do it, sir."

  "And at this pace, that'll take you, what? About forty minutes?"

  "A little less, I think."

  "Dr. Lange and I are going to push it a little bit faster," Jake said, "and a little bit farther. We're going to do three loops in about two-thirds the time. Just let us know when you
get back to camp."

  Zoe was ready, and as Jake jammed it into higher gear, she was right beside him.

  "Hey!" he heard Harvard say as they left him in their dust. He put on a burst of speed, hustling to catch up. "Ad­miral, this isn't necessary. You don't need to prove any­thing here."

  "Obviously, I do."

  "We're all tired this morning—"

  "Speak for yourself. I'm an old man—I don't need much sleep."

  Harvard looked pained. ' 'I assure you, sir—"

  "Save your breath, Senior. You're going to need it if you want to keep up." And Jake ran even faster.

  Zoe stood under the campground shower and let the wa­ter stream onto her head.

  She hadn't run a race like that in a long time. And it had been a race. Three times around the KOA campground driveway. At least six miles. At top speed.

  It had been some kind of macho showdown, and Jake had come out on top. He was a good runner—he held some­thing back, something in reserve for the end of the race. While everyone else was working overtime to keep up the pace for that last quarter mile, Jake had pulled a sprint out of his back pocket.

  She shut off the shower and toweled herself dry.

  The other SEALs had tried valiantly to keep up with the admiral, but Harvard was the only one who'd stayed neck and neck.

  And when it was over, Jake had been able to carry on a

  conversation. Bobby and Wes had been gasping for oxygen like fish on the deck of a boat, yet Jake had calmly given out orders, flashing that incredible smile of his at the pack of them.

  At everyone but Zoe.

  She slipped on her robe and wrapped her towel around her shoulders, using it to reach up and rub her wet hair as she headed toward the trailers.

  The smile he'd sent in her direction had been self-conscious, and she knew he couldn't so much as look at her without thinking about that kiss they'd shared last night.