SEAL the Deal (Hot SEALs)

by Cat Johnson

  Sometimes she would call Diana. After being kidnapped together, they'd be friends forever, even if she did live in England.

  They had a pact. If either needed to talk, they had an open invite to call—transcontinental time difference be damned. They'd both seen Zane and his team in action.

  In full kit, as he called it, he and his team were an intimidating sight. They'd better be because those they fought against showed no mercy. Diana had witnessed both sides, the good and the bad, alongside Missy.

  Upstairs in the room she'd occupied for decades, the same room she and Zane would sneak into to have sex until they finally found an apartment and moved in together, she began to feel particularly nostalgic.

  Maybe it was this wedding thing throwing her into such an emotional state. Maybe it was the fact Zane had told her to be prepared for him to have to leave the country again soon for GAPS. Maybe she was just hormonal. Who the hell knew?

  Whatever it was causing her inner turmoil, she headed for the closet and dropped to her knees.

  On the floor, behind boxes of shoes she hadn't worn in years and likely never would again, she felt around blindly until she made contact with what she sought.

  Reaching in with both hands, she ducked beneath some full length dresses and dove into the back of the closet, emerging triumphant with the old book stuffed to overflowing with pictures torn out of magazines and pressed flowers—her wedding planning scrapbook.

  Knowing it wasn't going to help her already tenuous mood she opened it anyway.

  She was immediately transported back to her childhood. She'd devoured bridal magazines right up through her teen years. When other girls her age were into fashion or boy bands, Missy had been eyeball deep into bridal gowns and bridesmaid dresses.

  Maybe she wasn't normal but she'd been happy. Working on her book had given her hours of joy. Planning her wedding to Zane all those years ago made it feel even more surreal that she was actually living with him now. And that they weren't married and likely never would be.

  She ran her finger over one page, covered with oversized, curly fancy letters—her childlike approximation of calligraphy.

  Missy smiled as she read what it said, what she’d written.

  Birdseed tied in tulle with ribbon personalized with our names and the date.

  It was her note to herself of what she'd wanted the flower girls to hand out to the guests after the ceremony.

  Also on the list to distribute to the guests were disposable cameras. Little did she know then that twenty years later everyone just took pictures with their cell phones.

  Times certainly had changed.

  After one more sentimental look she flipped the cover closed intent on putting her time capsule from the past back from where it had come.

  But she didn't put it back in the closet. Instead, she put it on her dresser next to her old jewelry box. The kind that had a music box and a dancing ballerina inside.

  The two things she probably should have gotten rid of long ago—the scrapbook and the jewelry box—seemed to belong together.

  Maybe she was too sentimental for her own good. Certainly too much so to throw away things that had been a big part of her past.

  If she kept this up she'd end up on one of those hoarder shows on television.

  “Hey.”

  She jumped at the sound and spun to see Zane standing in the doorway. “Hi. You startled me. I didn't hear you come in.”

  “Sorry, baby. But I didn't exactly tip toe.” He moved in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

  “You didn't have to. You always move like a damn ninja, I swear.” Scowling, she shook her head.

  “Why, thank you.” He smiled.

  Missy cocked up one brow. “It wasn't a compliment.”

  “I can still choose to accept it as one.” He grinned wider and glanced around the room, his gaze landing on the scrapbook on the dresser. “What's that?”

  “Nothing. Just some junk from when I was a kid. I should probably clean that closet out completely.”

  “Why?” he asked. “It's not like your parents need the room. There's more than enough rooms and closets in this place.”

  “Yet we're renting an apartment with only one closet.”

  His lips twitched. “Not true. There's one by the front door and another in the bathroom.”

  “That's a coat closet and a linen closet. I'm talking about the single clothes closet in the bedroom.”

  “Oh, well, if you're going to get specific.” He smiled. “And you know why I liked that apartment.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I know.” She'd heard it all before.

  The location. The fireplace. The windows. The architecture. The security. Blah, blah, blah.

  All she'd wanted was an elevator so she didn't have to lug groceries up the stairs and big closets for both of their wardrobes so she didn't have to leave half her stuff at her parents' house. She'd gotten neither.

  But he was right. It was a beautiful apartment in a great location. And to be with Zane in their own place, to fall asleep next to him each night and wake with him the next morning, she'd live pretty much anywhere.

  Even so, more closet space would have been nice.

  She stood on tip-toe and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Let's go downstairs.”

  “Yeah, we should. Your parents were just turning into the drive when I was walking through the door.”

  “All right.” Missy nodded. She was ready to take Maria up on her offer of wine . . . or possibly a martini.

  Time to get this evening started. Giving one last glance at the scrapbook behind her, she took a step toward the door.

  Downstairs her parents were indeed in the front hallway. “Missy. I'm sorry. Were you here long? Are we late?”

  “Not long at all, Mother. And you're not late. I was early.”

  Reaching the bottom step, she moved forward and gave her mother a kiss, then moved to her father. “Hello, Father.”

  “Melissa.” He leaned low and kissed her cheek before extending his hand. “Zane.”

  “Senator.”

  Her father lifted a brow. “One day you'll stop calling me that.”

  “Senator?” Zane laughed. “I'm sure I will. And hopefully it will be because I'll be calling you Mr. President instead.”

  The older man drew in a breath. “I think that dream might be over.”

  “Oh, I don't know about that. There's always the twenty-twenty election.”

  “From your mouth to the party's ears.” He laid a hand on Zane's shoulder and steered him toward the living room. “Let's go get a drink. Shall we?”

  “Sounds good to me.” Zane nodded.

  Her mother stood and watched the two men, chatting like the best of friends, leave the room together. “It's so nice they get along so well.”

  “Yeah, it is.” Strange but nice. Missy followed them out of the room with her gaze then turned toward her mother. Might as well get the inevitable over with. “So I met with Amelia.”

  “Oh?” Her mother was very good at playing dumb.

  Missy had no doubt her mother knew exactly what they'd discussed. “Yes. She asked me to be in the wedding party.”

  “Did she? Just you?”

  That pointed question convinced Missy her mother already knew the answer. “Both me and Zane. But I haven't asked him yet so don't bring it up, okay?”

  “Why in the world haven't you told him?”

  “Because he hates weddings, that's why.” No use pulling any punches.

  “Why is that?” A frown creased her mother's brow.

  “I wish I knew.” She understood why he was against getting married himself. That was all part of his jockeying for control of his own life and rebelling against his father's wishes.

  But why was he so against others getting married? It seemed Zane hated weddings in general and everything that went along with them. That she didn't understand.

  “Well, I think it's sweet that Amelia wants you both in her weddi
ng party. You two have been so close since you were children. Remember when you were both flower girls in Coreene's wedding?”

  “Yes, Mother. I remember. Of course that was two husbands ago for Coreene,” Missy added under her breath.

  Her mother shot her a glance. “Be nice. She's a poor soul.”

  “A rich poor soul,” Missy joked.

  “Melissa.” There was a clear warning in the tone of the single word.

  “Sorry.” Apparently, this wedding stuff was making Missy cranky.

  Maybe she did understood Zane's hatred of weddings more than she'd thought.

  She sighed. It was definitely a martini kind of night.

  CHAPTER 11

  “So . . .” The single word hung heavily in the air as Senator Greenwood left the sentence unfinished.

  Zane stilled, his drink half way to his mouth. He lowered the glass and said, “Sir?”

  The older man drew in a breath, his lips pressed into a tight line. “I know you love my daughter.”

  “Yes, sir.” Zane nodded. “I do. Very much.”

  “Then what is it? I don't understand what's standing in your way.”

  Zane didn't need to ask what the man was talking about. He knew. Lifting one shoulder, he said, “I'm stubborn.”

  Not to mention a selfish son of a bitch. Obviously, because if Missy was so unhappy with the current status of their relationship that her father had noticed, things were worse than he'd thought.

  The senator's brow creased with a frown. “I'm not sure I understand your motivation. Who are you spiting but yourself and Melissa?”

  “My father. He's wanted me to marry Missy for years. Before I even started dating her in fact. His motivations have nothing to do with love. Well, that's not totally true. I believe they stem from his love of power and influence. To be blunt, a wealthy senator in the family would be quite a coup.”

  Missy’s father shook his head. “You're not a teenager anymore, son. Acting out. Doing the opposite of what your father wants to assert your independence. You're a grown man. A successful one in your own right, in more than one field. You excelled in the military. The company you built is successful. That’s enough. It's time you considered the impact your decisions have upon someone other than your father.”

  “Such as Missy.”

  “Such as yourself, Zane. You're sacrificing your own happiness to spite your father. And yes, my daughter’s, as well. She loves you and she's hurting.”

  “We've discussed the situation. I thought we were on the same page as far as marriage is concerned.”

  For the first time in his life he was completely in love and one hundred percent happy with being monogamous. And still he was hurting the woman he loved? Or at least he was as far as her father was concerned.

  He tried to reassure the man. “Missy’s the only one I want to be with for the rest of my life. She knows that and she agreed that we didn't need the ceremony and the rubber stamp on the license.”

  The older man cocked up one snowy brow. “You believe that?”

  “I used to.” Zane drew in a breath and raised his gaze to the senator. “Lately, I'm not so sure.”

  The older man nodded but there wasn't a chance for either of them to say anything more because Missy and her mother came through the door.

  After putting his drink down on the table, he moved to meet her where she stood. Cupping her face in both hands, he pressed a short but meaningful kiss to her lips.

  “Zane. My parents are here.” With her eyes wide and her cheeks pink, she looked every bit the daughter who'd just been kissed—really kissed—in front of her parents.

  He smiled. “I don't care. I love you.”

  “I love you too but jeez.” She cringed.

  Laughing, he decided to give her a break. “All right. I'll behave.”

  “Thank you.” She glanced across the room to where her mother had joined her father. “And what brought that on anyway?” she asked in a low voice.

  He lifted one shoulder. “Can't a man kiss his woman?”

  “Yes.” The color in her cheeks deepened.

  God, how he loved he could affect her like this. So easily too.

  Now if only he could read her mind—and her heart—as easily.

  What did she want? Was their love and commitment really not enough? Did she need them married? Or did she just want to be married because her cousin had just gotten engaged and it seemed everyone else they knew was tying the knot and asking them when they would do the same?

  He didn't know. And he didn't think he'd ever gotten a completely honest answer from her when he asked. Not that she was dishonest, but she was the type of woman who would be content making him happy, even if it made her miserable.

  Zane drew in a breath.

  He could read strangers. Know when they were lying to him. Even when they were lying to themselves and believed their own lies. Yet when it came to the woman closest to him, the woman he loved, he was in the dark. Making assumptions. Trying to read the clues. Read between the lines when she told him she was fine. That they were fine.

  His cell vibrating in his pocket ended his inner debate. He pulled it out and saw Will's name on the display. “Shit. I've gotta—”

  “Go.” Missy waved away his concern with one hand. “I'm going to get a drink and see what's for dinner.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks.” He hit the screen and made his way out into the hallway. “Will. What have you got?”

  “How do you know I have anything for you?” Will asked.

  “Um, well first you're the computer god and there’s no way you came up empty-handed and second, you wouldn't call me until you found something.”

  “True on both counts. Okay, here's the deal . . . I just don't know. That’s why I took so long getting back to you.”

  “You don't know?” Zane lifted his eyebrows at that uncharacteristic answer from a man who might joke around a lot but was always no nonsense when it came to work.

  Although Zane could respect a man who could admit he didn't know something, it wasn't what he’d expected or wanted from Will Weber, the famed computer god and go-to answer guy for the Naval Special Warfare Department.

  “What do you mean, you don't know?” Zane asked.

  “Here's the deal. I found him—and he is indeed a male—Paul James Neuman. I know where he's sitting right now—a little privately owned coffee shop near Berkley. In fact, I even know what frigging website he's browsing at this very moment—Tinder.”

  “Jesus,” Zane blew out the word beneath his breath.

  How many laws had Will broken to get that level of information on this guy? He didn't dare ask. Call him paranoid, but the less said that could be overheard the better. And the less he knew the greater his level of plausible deniability if the shit hit the fan.

  “Relax. I know what you're thinking. I'm on my personal equipment at home, not on base. And if the guy is dumb enough to use a open public WiFi signal he deserves to be surveilled. But that's the thing. He doesn't seem to have home WiFi. He's always on open public WiFi and that sets off my warning bells.”

  “Maybe he doesn't want to pay for it.” Zane thought that would be typical of the younger generation and their cord cutting habit. No cable television. No home internet.

  “Maybe,” Will agreed. “But if he can't afford internet I'm not sure your buddy will want his heiress cousin dating him. And then there's the possibility he's hardwired and behind a firewall at home like I am, possibly using a VPN to mask the location and that's why I can't find him. But that's not what most people do. You know?”

  “Yeah.”

  “There are other things too. Like his posts. He's too damn perfect. Always happy. Always nice. Never a complaint. No pictures of him but lots of his supposed house and vacations. But there’s never a bad photo. Even his frigging dog looks perfect. It’s like the pictures all came from a professional photographer’s website somewhere.”

  “You’re saying he’s too good to be tr
ue. Or be real.”

  “Exactly. I don't know, Zane. I've got nothing concrete but my gut instinct is shouting at me. I wanted hard evidence and all I’ve got is a feeling.”

  Will's instincts were good enough for him. Zane had spent too many years in the SEALs depending on instinct to save his skin to start doubting it now.

  During the call he had wandered up the stairs. Zane found himself in Missy's bedroom. “Can you give me what you've got as far as hard information so I can pass it on to my friend?”

  “Sure thing.”

  He headed for the desk. Missy was the kind of woman who still hand wrote letters and thank you notes, so he knew her desk had always been well stocked. Lucky for him, she hadn't completely cleared it out when she'd moved to the apartment.

  Zane cradled the cell on one shoulder and pulled a pad of paper and pen toward him, taking notes on what Will relayed before saying thank you and disconnecting the call.

  As he pocketed the cell and the piece of paper, Zane glanced around him.

  There was an awful lot of stuff left in this room.

  What did that mean? Was the apartment really too small, like she joked? Or—and this was not a comforting thought—was she only partially committed to their living together?

  Did she have one foot out the door and half her stuff still at her parents' house just in case?

  Christ. He needed to reevaluate everything he'd ever thought about this relationship. He was starting to see his assumptions might be way off. But right now he needed to get back downstairs.

  Zane turned to leave when he spotted the book on the dresser. He sidestepped the door and moved to take a closer look.

  The book cover had a title painstakingly applied in glitter paint in elaborate but childish script. He read the words.

  My Wedding by Melissa Greenwood

  Zane opened the cover and flipped through the first few pages.

  Rose petals, pressed flat and dry, adorned a page with a picture of Missy dressed as a flower girl. The embossed cocktail napkin displayed the names and date of Coreene's wedding.

  He'd been there. He'd hated that his parents had forced him to go but he remembered Missy was completely into being a part of the wedding party.