Seal Team Ten

by Brockmann, Suzanne

She looked at Jake as the door closed behind Roy. "I better get out there."

  He couldn't hide his frustration: "There's more we need to discuss."

  Zoe started for the door. "Load the jukebox with quar­ters, then buy another round for your friends. As soon as there's a lull, ask me to dance. Hal doesn't mind if the waitresses dance with the paying customers. We can talk more on the dance floor. Just make sure the songs you pick are ballads." She paused, her hand on the door. "I know this is distasteful for you, but I can't think of any other way for us to have a private conversation."

  "Zoe—"

  She closed the door behind her and hurried to the bar.

  Chapter 7

  Jake made a quick sweep of the room as he headed for the jukebox. The bar wasn't filled to capacity, but compared to when he'd first come in, it was hopping.

  A tall man with long, greasy salt-and-pepper hair and a droopy mustache was behind the bar with Zoe and the bar­tender. He had to be Hal Francke. Sure enough, he didn't move past Zoe in the crowded space without touching her in some way.

  So bring me there and make love to me.

  Jake shook his head to exorcise Zoe's husky voice. She'd been serious. He'd seen it in her eyes. She would have had sex with him, in front of those cameras, to boot, in order to get this job done.

  He stared sightlessly at the listing of songs on the old-fashioned jukebox, wishing he had some of her reckless­ness, her impetuousness, her careless youth. Wishing he could break away from everything that held him to the past, but knowing that even if he could forget for one night, for one hour, even if he could lose himself completely in this

  woman's sweet arms, he'd wake up and be right back where he'd started in the morning.

  Or maybe even in a worse place.

  / know this is distasteful for you.... Zoe had said that as she walked out the door. He had to set her straight. He couldn't have her continue to believe that. There was a lot about this assignment that was distasteful, but being with her was not.

  Like he'd told her nearly five weeks ago—he liked kiss­ing her. Too much. And even after all this time apart, he still liked it. Still much too much. He'd thought the distance would be good, that it would give him some perspective, some sense of reality. But all those weeks he'd dreamed about her in ways that were outrageously inappropriate.

  He'd started out dreaming of Daisy, erotic, sensuous dreams of lovemaking filled with heat and light and such vivid sensations. But his dream would shift and change, the way dreams often do, and then-Zoe would become the woman in his arms, her body wrapped around him.

  He'd wake up, dizzy and out of breath and achingly, painfully alone.

  Jake forced himself to focus and fed the jukebox dollar bills, punching in all the slow romantic ballads he could identify. He'd just picked a Leann Rimes song when he saw Christopher Vincent approach, his image shimmery but unmistakable in the curved glass.

  He felt himself tense and worked hard to keep the smile on his face a pleasant one. God, when Christopher had grabbed Zoe, Jake had had to physically restrain himself. He'd come damn close to picking the man up and throwing him across the room.

  "I guess our new little waitress likes you," Christopher said.

  Jake pushed the buttons for a Garth Brooks song, not even looking up. "Oh, is she new here?"

  "She came into town a few weeks ago. Hal met her at

  some party. Don't worry. I've checked her out. She's ex­actly what she says she is."

  "Well, that's good to know." Jake smiled at Chris. "But no real surprise. I mean, she doesn't come across as some kind of rocket scientist or—I don't know—some kind of biochemical engineer. Can you imagine her in a lab coat?"

  Christopher laughed, and Jake laughed, too, knowing that the real joke was on the CRO leader. God, it was going to be so good to nail this guy....

  "Yeah," Chris said, "I can imagine her wearing only a lab coat." He laughed again. "She is some hot ticket."

  Jake turned to the jukebox, uncomfortable with Chris­topher's openly lascivious appraisal of Zoe, not wanting to be a part of it in any way.

  "I've seen her counting on her fingers," Chris contin­ued, "but with a body like that, it's almost better that she's not too bright." He looked at the bar, watching Zoe as she poured another pitcher of beer. "Oh, yeah. She's choice."

  As if she were a cut of meat. Jake felt his smile turning even more brittle and he stared at the jukebox, reminding himself why he couldn't simply beat the hell out of Chris­topher Vincent right here and right now.

  "Just so you know not to get your hopes up too high," Christopher told him before he walked away, "she's hold­ing out for marriage, our little Zoe is. You'd have better luck with Carol."

  Jake glanced at the bar, but Zoe was gone. He quickly scanned the room, found her making the rounds of tables, double-checking that everyone had all the beer and liquor they needed to get them through the next few minutes.

  She looked up, caught him gazing at her, and for a frac­tion of a second, he saw a glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes. Distasteful. Did she honestly think he found this part of the set up distasteful?

  But just like that the uncertainty was gone and she smiled.

  It was a very inviting, very warm smile, complete with

  a very slow, very appreciative up-and-down look that was totally lacking in subtlety. It was a look he might've gotten back in high school, and his body responded in a way far more appropriate for a seventeen-year-old than a fifty-something grown man.

  Jake moved toward her as surely as she made her way toward him. It was as if they both were magnetized, as if they couldn't have stayed apart from one another even if they'd tried.

  Zoe set her tray on top of an empty table.

  He slipped his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, afraid if he didn't he wouldn't be able to keep himself from reaching for her.

  "I didn't buy another round yet," he told her. "When I came out, someone else had just—"

  "It's okay." She looked away, as if suddenly shy. "You know, if you don't want to dance, we could try sitting at a table toward the back. But Gus and Hal might—"

  He took his hands out of his back pockets, and just like that, he had her by her hand and was pulling her toward the dimly lit dance floor next to the jukebox. Just like that she was in his arms and swaying gently in time to the music.

  "You should talk fast," she told him. "I don't know how long I'll have before Gus needs me."

  He pulled her closer. "This is not distasteful," he mur­mured into her ear. "Let's start with that, all right?"

  Zoe shook her head. "Jake, you don't have to—"

  "It's just..." He searched to find the words that would explain. "It's very...weird for me. I was with only one woman for nearly thirty years—nearly your entire lifetime. Can you even imagine that?"

  Silently, she shook her head.

  "I'm going to make everyone in this bar believe that I've got a major thing for you," he told her. "And doing that will not be distasteful. I'd be lying if I told you I haven't spent the past weeks looking forward to this. Look ing forward to it, and dreading it, all at the same time. You're a great kid, Zoe, and a beautiful woman and... And I'm sorry if I can't be as blase about any of this as you, and I'm sorry in advance if I somehow make you feel bad. Holding you, even dancing like this, hurts a little bit. But it feels good, too. Really good. Which in turns hurts a little bit more. Does that make any sense at all?"

  She nodded. "I'm sorry if I—"

  "Let's not apologize to each other anymore. We've got to do what we've got to do, right?"

  She lifted her chin. "/ think one of the things I've got to do is to get into the CRO compound."

  "Now, that idea is distasteful."

  "Jake, no, I've been thinking about it." She rested her head against his shoulder, and when she spoke, he could feel her breath against his throat. "The best way for me to help you find the Trip X is for me to be in there." She lifted her head and looked into h
is eyes. "Remember our deal? Remember what you promised?"

  "I didn't know what it would be like in there for a woman. Zoe, whatever you've heard about the CRO—"

  ' 'I knew exactly what I was getting myself into when I agreed to be a part of your team. I can handle it."

  "But I'm the team leader, and I need you to try it my way first." And if his way didn't work... Jake wasn't sure how they'd handle the cameras in the bedroom. Maybe they could cover some, disable the others. Maybe they could pretend to make love, under the covers....

  He changed the subject, trying to banish the image of Zoe in his bed, her body soft beneath his.

  No. He refused to give up on the idea that they could find the Triple X and keep Zoe safely out of harm's way. And out of his bed.

  "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here," he said. "Christopher tends toward delusions of grandeur, and he imagined this terrible altercation the moment I stepped out­side of the CRO gate. I think he was a little disappointed

  when I made it all the way into town without being chased by federal agents."

  The song ended and they stopped for a moment, waiting for the next song to start. It had almost exactly the same slow, pulsating beat. He'd picked the songs well.

  As they began dancing again, she shifted her body even closer and rested her head against his shoulder. How could she fit so perfectly in his arms?

  "So how did you convince him to let you come to town?" she murmured.

  "Well, I, um, I thanked him for his hospitality and sanc­tuary, but I told him that I wouldn't be able to stay with him any longer unless I at least had the opportunity to, um..." He laughed, embarrassed: "Well, to, you know...."

  "Ah."

  "And since there are no single women in the CRO over age thirteen..."

  She lifted her head. "He didn't offer you one of his many wives?"

  "Are you kidding? The man's almost obsessively pos­sessive."

  "Hmm. The sharing doesn't go both ways, huh?"

  "Sharing?"

  "Just more CRO unpleasantness. Women as chattel. You know, it's a good thing you made it into town today," Zoe interrupted herself. ' 'The team was starting to make plans to liberate you. You had us all worried."

  Jake swore softly. "Why can't they just sit tight and trust me?"

  "They care about you."

  "They think I'm too old."

  "You think you're too old."

  Jake pulled back slightly. "What the hell is that sup­posed to mean?"

  Zoe shook her head. "Nothing. Look, Jake, I've been—"

  .

  "Nothing, my ass! You wouldn't've said it if it meant nothing."

  "Okay, it meant something, but it's a personal some­thing, and if we've got limited time to talk here, the per­sonal stuff should be the last thing we get to."

  He couldn't argue with that. Unfortunately it didn't make him wonder exactly what she'd meant any less. He thought he was too old. Jeez.

  "I've been thinking about alternatives to this whole setup," she said. She pulled him close, breathing into his ear as if her words were seductive promises rather than a plan for an alternative operation.

  God, he'd forgotten for a moment—he'd been standing there arguing with her. They were supposed to be just short of making out on the dance floor. He held her closer, and she moved toward him willingly, her breasts soft against him. He buried his face in her sweet-smelling hair. Oh, God.

  "What's your take on the hierarchy of power inside the CRO?" she murmured, her breath hot against his ear. "I've always gotten the impression that Christopher Vincent's it. That without him, the organization would fall apart. And if that's the case, why don't we just grab Vincent on one of his trips outside of his compound? Hold him hostage in exchange for the Trip X?"

  "I've thought about that, too," Jake admitted. He kissed her neck, ran his hands down her back to cup her rear end. Oh, God. Bad mistake. But once his hands were there, it would've looked odd for him to move them right away, wouldn't it? What were they talking about? Hostage. Vin­cent. Right.

  "It's not an option," he told her, hoping she wouldn't notice the huskiness of his voice. He cleared his throat. "Vincent's got contingency plans for all kinds of disaster scenarios. Everyone in the CRO compound has a battle station to go to if the Feds suddenly launch an attack. He's stockpiled enough food to withstand a two-year siege. He's

  got an escape route charted out of this bar, in case he sud­denly finds himself a target while he's here."

  She slipped her hands into the back pockets of his jeans, pressing his hips tightly against hers. "With or without an escape route, we could get him."

  "I know that. But what I don't know is what his contin­gency plan is in regards to the Triple X. His lieutenants might not know what it is they've got. His orders might be for them to use it if he's taken. So, no, we're not going to grab him. Not without finding out more."

  Jake tried to shift back, extremely aware of the fact that when she pulled him that close, there were no secrets be­tween them—including the secret he'd been trying to keep about the enthusiastic way his body was responding to her nearness.

  He tried to make his voice sound casual, conversational. As if he weren't affected by the sensation of her breasts against his chest, as if he couldn't feel her heat as she pressed herself against his thigh. "Hey, have you heard from Mitch?"

  "Not since he's been arrested." Zoe smiled, her hands traveling up his back. "We almost didn't recognize him when we saw the news report on CNN."

  "Yeah, he's good with disguises. I looked twice at that little old man sitting at the bar just to be sure it wasn't him."

  "It's not. Mitch is still in custody," Zoe told him. She ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and it felt impossibly, sinfully good. "He's being held at the same federal penitentiary where Christopher Vincent's stepbrother is doing ten to twenty for armed robbery."

  Jake laughed. "Well, jeez, that's pure genius. I mean, I knew Christopher had a stepbrother who'd been in trouble with the law, but... Whose idea was it to send Mitch to the same prison?"

  "I'm a fan of doing just that little extra bit of research,"

  she told him modestly. "We lucked out that the stepbrother was in a federal jail and—"

  "It was your idea. Good job, Lange. So you're the ge­nius, huh?"

  "Whoa," she said, laughing. Her eyes sparkled and danced with amusement. She was so pretty, so full of life. The longing that hit him was so strong, it took his breath away. "Don't go overboard. Yes, it was a good idea, but—"

  She stopped short, her smile fading at the look he knew was in his eyes. He couldn't hide it, and he prayed she would think it was only part of the game they were playing.

  They'd both stopped moving, and they stood on the dance floor just holding each other. She gazed at him, her beautiful lips slightly parted, and when he didn't move, she stood on her toes and kissed him.

  It was the smallest of kisses, light and delicate, a feathery brushing of her lips across his. She searched his eyes again, then stood on her toes once more. This time she kissed him a little bit harder. This time she tasted him, gently touching the curve of his lips with the very tip of her tongue. And this time he kissed her, too, just as delicately, just as softly.

  Jake's heart was pounding, and he was dizzy from want­ing more. But he took his cues from her, letting her lead, refusing to push her into harder, deeper, longer kisses, no matter how badly he wanted just that.

  She delicately swept her tongue into his mouth and he groaned aloud. She took him right to the point where he knew they were on the verge of crushing their mouths to­gether and positively inhaling each other, but instead, she pulled back.

  "We're both good actors," she whispered, "but we're not this good. Part of this is real, Jake, whether we want to believe it or not. That's what I was trying to say when I told you I'd make love to you. That I also want to make love to you."

  Jake didn't know what to say.

 
; She kissed him again, hot and sweet and long. "That's me kissing you, no games, no pretense. We can have it both ways, you know. We can do our jobs and get naked— if you can get past everything you need to get past, if you can come to the conclusion that you're not too old for this sort of thing."

  "Ah," Jake said, finally finding his voice as she pulled free from his arms. "We've finally come to the personal stuff."

  "I bet you look good naked," Zoe told him as she picked up her tray and headed to the bar.

  Jake wanted both to laugh and cry. He'd never met any­one as completely in-your-face honest as Zoe Lange. She knew what she wanted, and she wasn't shy about asking for it.

  She wanted him.

  And his big problem was that he wanted her, too.

  Even though he knew that wanting her was wrong.

  Chapter 8

  "Oh, hell, he's naked!"

  Bobby Taylor thrust his big hands in front of the video monitor. But because there was more than one camera, there was more than one screen to cover. Wes Skelly grabbed Zoe's chair and spun her so she was facing the other direction.

  She just laughed at them. "Oh, come on, you guys. Like I haven't seen a naked man before? I grew up in a very small house with four brothers. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but the male anatomy has just never been a mystery to me."

  "Yeah, but he's an admiral," the bigger SEAL told her. Bobby Taylor could have made a fortune playing profes­sional football. At six feet seven inches, he weighed at least two sixty, maybe even more. When he sat down, he took up two chairs, but very little of his bulk was fat. He was simply enormous. Yet despite that, he was one of the most graceful men Zoe had ever met. He was part Native Amer­ican—part Navajo, he'd told her. He had the darkest, most

  serene brown eyes she'd ever seen. "He's earned the right to towel off after his shower without an audience."

  "Besides," Wes added, "you don't want to be looking at him naked. He's an old man."

  "He is not—"

  "Okay," Bobby said. "He's got his shorts on. Although it still seems a little disrespectful for us to be staring at an admiral when he's in his underwear."