Seal Team Ten

by Brockmann, Suzanne

  "Thanks for the flowers," she said. "I love them."

  He smiled. "Good. I didn't think you were the roses type, and they, well, they reminded me of you."

  "What?" she said. "Big and flashy?"

  His smile widened. "Yeah."

  Colleen laughed as she turned to give him a disbelieving look. Their eyes met and held, and just like that the heat was back, full force.

  "I missed you," she whispered.

  "I missed you, too."

  "Kinda hard for you to take off my clothes when you're way over there."

  He yanked his gaze away, cleared his throat. "Yeah, well. Hmmm. I think we need to talk before..." He cleared his throat. "You want to go out, take a walk? Get some coffee?"

  She put the flowers into the water. "You're afraid if we stay here, we won't be able to keep from getting naked."

  "Yes," he said. "Yes, I am."

  Colleen laughed, opening the refrigerator. "How about we take a glass of iced tea to the roof?"

  "Am I going to get the urge to jump you there?"

  "Absolutely," she said as she poured the tea. "But un­less you're an exhibitionist, you won't. There's a taller building right behind this one. There are about three floors of apartments that have a bird's-eye view of this roof."

  She gave him one of the glasses and a kiss.

  His mouth was soft and warm and wonderful, his body so solid and strong, and she felt herself melt against him.

  She looked up at him. "You sure you don't want to...?"

  "Roof," he said. "Please?"

  Colleen led the way, up the main staircase, through the exit door and out into the bright sunshine. A long-departed former tenant had built a sundeck, complete with large pots of dirt in which she and Ashley had planted flowers last May. It wasn't luxurious, but it was a far cry from the peeling tar paper on the neighboring buildings' roofs.

  There was even a bench, placed strategically in the shade provided by the larger building next door.

  Colleen sat down. Bobby sat, too—about as far away from her as he could manage.

  "So I guess I should ask about my brother," she said. "Is he in intensive care?"

  "No." Bobby looked down into his iced tea. "We did fight, though."

  She knew. She could see the shadows of bruises on his face. "It must've been awful," she said quietly.

  He turned to gaze at her, and her heart moved up into her throat. He had such a way of looking at her, as if he could see inside her head, inside her very heart and soul, as if he saw her completely, as a whole, unique, special person.

  "Marry me."

  Colleen nearly dropped her glass. What?

  But she'd heard him correctly. He reached into his pocket and took out a jeweler's box. A ring box. He opened it and handed it to her—it was a diamond in a gorgeously simple setting, perfect for accenting the size of the stone. Which was enormous. It had to have cost him three months' pay.

  She couldn't breathe. She couldn't speak. She couldn't move. Bobby Taylor wanted to marry her.

  "Please," he said quietly. "I should have said, please marry me."

  The sky was remarkably blue, and the air was fresh and sweet. On the street below, a woman shouted for someone named Lenny. A car horn honked. A bus roared past.

  Bobby Taylor wanted to marry her.

  And yes, yes, she wanted to marry him, too. Marry him! The thought was dizzying, terrifying, but it came with a burst of happiness that was so strong, she laughed aloud.

  Colleen looked up at him then, into the almost palpable warmth of his eyes. He was waiting for her answer.

  But she was waiting, too, she realized. This was where he would tell her that he loved her.

  Except he didn't. He didn't say anything. He just sat there, watching her, slightly nervous, slightly...detached? As if he were waiting for her to say no.

  Colleen looked hard into his eyes. He was sitting there, waiting, as if he expected her to turn him down.

  As if he didn't really want her to marry him.

  As if...

  Her happiness fizzled, and she handed him the ring box. "Wes put you up to this, didn't he?" She saw the truth in his eyes. Oh, no, she was right. "Oh, Bobby."

  "I'm not going to lie to you," he said quietly. "It was Wes's idea. But I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to do it."

  "Yeah," Colleen said, standing up and walking away so that her back was to him. She couldn't bear to let him see her disappointment. "Right. You look really enthusiastic. Grim is more like it. 'I'm here to be sentenced to life in prison, your honor.'"

  "I'm scared. Can you blame me for that?" he countered. She heard the ice tinkling in his glass as he set it down, as he stood up and moved directly behind her. But he didn't touch her. He just stood there, impossible to ignore.

  "This is a big step," he said quietly. "A major life de­cision for both of us. And I'm not sure marrying me is the right thing for you to do. I don't make a lot of money, Colleen, and my job takes me all over the world. Being a Navy wife sucks—I'm not sure I want to do that to you. I don't know if I could make you happy enough to ignore all the negatives of being married to me. And, yes, that scares me."

  He took a deep breath. "But the fact is, you could be pregnant. With my child. That's not something I can ig­nore."

  "I know," she whispered.

  "If you are pregnant, you will marry me," he told her, his quiet voice leaving no room for argument. "Even if it's only just for a year or two, if that's how you want to play it."

  Colleen nodded. "If I'm pregnant. But I'm probably not, so I'm not going to marry you." She shook her head. "I can't believe you would marry me, just because Wes told you to." She laughed, but her throat ached, and she knew she was dangerously close to crying. "I can't decide if that makes you a really good friend or a total chump."

  She headed for the door to the stairs, praying she would make it into her apartment before her tears escaped. "I should get back to work."

  God, she was a fool. If he'd been just a little more dis­ingenuous, if he'd lied and told her he loved her, she would have given herself away. She would have thrown her arms around his neck and told him yes. Yes, she'd marry him, yes, she loved him, too.

  She loved him so much...but there was no too.

  "Colleen, wait."

  Oh, damn, he was chasing her down the stairs. He caught her at her apartment door as she fumbled her key in the lock, as her vision blurred from her tears.

  She pushed open the door, and he followed. She tried to turn away, but it was too late.

  "I'm so sorry," he said hoarsely, engulfing her in his arms. "Please believe me—the last thing I wanted to do was upset you like this."

  He was so solid, so huge, and his arms gave her the illusion of safety. Of being home.

  He swore softly. "I didn't mean to make you cry, Col­leen."

  She just held him tightly, wanting them both just to pre­tend this hadn't happened. He hadn't asked her to marry him, she hadn't discovered just how much she truly loved him. Yeah, that would be easy to forget. He could return the ring to the jeweler's, but she didn't have a clue what she was going to do with her heart.

  She did, however, know exactly what to do with her body. Yes, she was going to take advantage of every second she had with this man.

  She pushed the door closed behind them and, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulled his head down for a kiss.

  He hesitated—for about one-tenth of a second. Then, with a groan, he kissed her, too.

  And Colleen stopped crying.

  How the hell had this happened?

  As Bobby awoke, he knew exactly where he was before he even opened his eyes.

  He could smell the sweet scent of Colleen, feel her soft­ness nestled against him.

  Her windows were open, and a soft breeze from this perfect summer day caressed his naked behind. Colleen ca­ressed him, too. She was running her fingers lightly up and down the arm he'd draped around her after she'd succeeded in completely we
aring him out. Had they made love twice or three times?

  How had that happened—even once? It didn't quite line up with him asking to marry her, and her getting angry because she saw clear through him, saw it had been Wes­ley's idea in the first place.

  Except she hadn't been so much angry as hurt, and...

  He lifted his face from her pillow to find her watching him. She smiled. "Hi."

  He wanted her again. Just from one smile. Except it wasn't so much his body that reacted this time. It was his heart that expanded. He wanted to wake up to her smile every day. He wanted...

  "You need to go," she said to him. "I have to pack for Tulgeria, and you're distracting me."

  “I’ll help you."

  "Yeah, right." She laughed and leaned forward to kiss him. "Ten minutes of your help, you'll have me back in bed."

  "Seriously, Colleen, I know exactly what you need to

  take. No bright colors, no white, either, otherwise you're setting yourself up as a potential sniper target. Think drabs—browns, greens, beiges. I also don't want you to bring anything clingy—wear loose overshirts, okay? Long sleeves, long skirts—and you know this already. Right." Bobby laughed, disgusted with himself. "Sorry."

  She kissed him again. "I love that you care."

  "I do," he said, holding her gaze, wishing there was some way to convey just how much.

  But the door buzzer rang, and Colleen gently extracted herself from his arms. She slipped on her robe. Man, he loved that robe. He sat up. "Maybe you should let me get the door."

  But she was already out of the room. "I've got it."

  Whoever had buzzed had gotten past the building's se­curity entrance and was now knocking directly on the door to Colleen's apartment.

  Where were his shorts?

  "Oh, my God," he heard Colleen say. "What are you doing here?"

  "What, I can't visit my own sister?" Oh, damn! It was Wes. "Sleeping in today, huh? Late night last night?"

  "No," she said flatly. "What do you want, Wes? I'm mad at you."

  "I'm looking for Taylor. But he better not be here, with you dressed like that."

  The hell with his shorts. Bobby grabbed his pants, pull­ing them on, tripping over his own feet in his haste and just barely keeping himself from doing a nosedive onto the floor. His recovery made an incriminating thump.

  Wes swore—a steady stream of epithets that grew louder as he moved down the hall toward Colleen's bedroom.

  Bobby was searching for his shirt among the sheets and blankets that spilled from the bed and onto the floor as Wes pushed the door open. He slowly straightened up, his hair wild around his shoulder, his feet bare and his shirt no­where to be found.

  Damn, there it was—over near Colleen's closet, near where he'd tossed his socks and shoes.

  "Well, this is just beautiful," Wes said. His eyes were cold and hard—they were someone else's eyes. The Wes Skelly who'd been closer to him than a brother for years was gone. As Bobby watched, Wes turned to Colleen. "You're marrying this son of a bitch over my dead body."

  Bobby knew Wes honestly thought that would make Col­leen determined to marry him. "Wes—"

  "You don't want me to marry him?" she asked inno­cently.

  Wes crossed his arms. "Absolutely not."

  "Okay," Colleen said blithely. "Sorry, Bobby, I can't marry you. Wes won't let me." She turned and went into the kitchen.

  "What?" Wes followed, sputtering. "But you have to marry him. Especially now."

  Bobby pulled on his shirt and grabbed his socks and shoes.

  "I'm not marrying Bobby," Colleen repeated. "I don't have to marry Bobby. And there's nothing you can do to make me, thank you very much. I'm a grown woman, Wes­ley, who happens to be in a completely mutual, intimate relationship with a very attractive man. You either need to deal with that or get your negative opinions out of my apartment."

  Wes was still sputtering. "But—"

  She moved grandly from the kitchen to the door, opening it wide for him. "Leave."

  Wes looked at Bobby. "No way am I leaving with him still here!"

  "Then take him with you," Colleen said. "I have work to do." She pointed the way. "Go. Both of you."

  Bobby moved, and Wes followed. But at the door Col­leen stopped Bobby, kissed him. "Sorry about my brother the grouch. I had a lovely afternoon, thank you. I'll see you tonight."

  If her intention was to infuriate her brother, she'd suc­ceeded.

  She closed the door behind them, with Bobby still hold­ing his socks and shoes.

  Wes gave him a scathing look. "What is wrong with you?"

  How could he explain? He wasn't sure himself how it happened. Every time he turned around, he found himself in bed with Colleen. When it came to her, he—a man who'd set time-and-distance records for swimming under­water, a man who'd outlasted more physically fit SEAL candidates during BUD/S through sheer determination, a man who'd turned himself around from a huge man car­rying quite a bit of extra weight into a solid, muscular mon­ster—had no willpower.

  Because being with her felt so right. It was right.

  That thought came out of nowhere, blindsiding him, and he stood there for a moment just blinking at Wes.

  "You were supposed to get her to marry you," Wes continued. "Instead you—"

  "I tried. I was trying to—"

  "That was trying?"

  "If she's pregnant, she'll marry me. She agreed to that."

  "Perfect," Wes said, "so naturally you feel inclined to keep trying to get her pregnant."

  "Of course not. Wes, when I'm with her—"

  "I don't want to hear it." Wes glared at him. "Just stay the hell away from her," he said, and clattered down the stairs. "And stay away from me, too."

  16

  The early-afternoon meeting between Alpha Squad and the members of Relief Aid who were going to Tulgeria tomorrow had gone well.

  Colleen had been afraid that some of the more left-wing group members would be opposed to protection from the U.S. military, but with the recent outbreak of violence in the dangerous country, there wasn't a single protest.

  She'd sat quietly, listening to the information presented by the SEALs. Bobby and the squad's commander, Captain Joe Catalanotto, sat up on a desk in the front of the room, feet swinging, extremely casual, dressed down in shorts and T-shirts—just a coupla guys. Who also happened to be members of the most elite military force in the world.

  Bobby did most of the talking—a smart move, since he'd been working alongside most of the Relief Aid volunteers for the past few days. They knew and trusted him.

  He warned them of the dangers they'd be encountering and the precautions and methods the SEALs would be taking to protect them, in his usual straightforward, quiet man­ner. And everything he said was taken very seriously.

  The SEALs would maintain a low profile, blending in with the volunteers. Only a few would be obvious guards and carry obvious weapons.

  After the meeting they'd mingled over iced tea and lem­onade. She'd met many of the SEALs her brother had men­tioned in his letters and e-mails down through the years. Joe Cat, Blue, Lucky, Cowboy, Crash. Some of the nick­names were pretty funny.

  Spaceman. His real name was Jim Slade, and he was tall and good-looking in an earthy way, with craggy features and the kind of blue eyes that were perpetually amused. He'd followed her around for a while and had even invited her back to the hotel, to have dinner with him later.

  Bobby had overheard that, and Colleen had expected him to step forward, to make some kind of proprietary move. But he hadn't. He'd just met Colleen's eyes briefly, then gone back to the conversation he'd been having with Relief Aid leader, Susan Fitzgerald.

  And Colleen was bemused—more with her own reaction. It was stupid really. If Bobby had gotten all macho and possessive on her, she would have been annoyed. But since he hadn't, she found herself wondering why not. Didn't he feel possessive toward her? And wasn't that a stupid thing to wonder? She didn't want to be
any man's possession.

  She'd spoken to Bobby only briefly before he'd left for another meeting with his team, held back at the hotel. She'd stayed behind and helped discuss plans for TV news cov­erage of tonight's bon voyage party.

  That meeting was brief, and Colleen was on the T, head­ing toward Cambridge before-four o'clock. She was inside the lobby of Bobby's hotel by :.

  She used the lobby phone to dial his room.

  Bobby answered on the first ring, and she knew right away that she'd woken him up.

  "Sorry," she said.

  "No, I was just catching a nap. Are you, um... Where are you?"

  "Downstairs. Can I come up?"

  Silence. She heard the rustle of sheets as he sat up. "How about you give me a few minutes to get dressed? I'll meet you in the bar."

  "How about I come up?"

  "Colleen—"

  "Room , right? I'll be there in a sec."

  "Colleen..." She'd hung up.

  Bobby dumped the phone's handset into the cradle and lay back in his bed.

  What was the point in getting dressed? She was coming up here. In five minutes—ten tops—she'd have him out of his clothes.

  He threw back the covers, anyway, got up and pulled on his pants and a T-shirt. If he was quick enough, he'd meet her in the hall, outside the elevators. He pulled on his sneakers, checked himself in the mirror to make sure his hair hadn't completely fallen out of its braid.

  He opened the door, and Colleen was standing there, ready to knock.

  "Hi," she said. "Good timing."

  She swept past him, into the room.

  No, it was bad timing. The last place they should be right now was here, alone in his hotel room. If Wes found out, he'd be furious.

  Bobby had been shaken by what had happened this morning. He truly had not intended to take advantage of Colleen, but he honest-to-God could not stop himself from climbing into her bed and making love to her.

  Even though she didn't want to marry him.

  Was he turning into some kind of prude in his old age? So what if she didn't want to marry him. She wanted to do him, and that was what mattered.

  Wasn't it?

  "I have a favor to ask," she told him now.

  God, she looked beautiful, in a blue-flowered sleeveless dress that flowed almost all the way to the floor. He'd been hyperaware of her all throughout the afternoon's meeting— aware of how easy it would be to get her out of that dress, with its single zipper down the back.