A SEAL's Purpose (SEALs of Chance Creek Book 5)

by Cora Seton

  A stab of disappointment had her rolling to one side. She curled up in her sleeping bag and forced herself to stay with the feeling. What is it, gut? she asked. Do I want Kai?

  Her body responded immediately to this far simpler question with an intensity that made the answer impossible to refute.

  Everything she’d ever imagined about Kai flooded her mind, her dreams made far more vivid by the details she’d gathered while spending a day with him. She’d been daydreaming about the man ever since she’d begun to watch Base Camp. She’d envisioned what it would be like to be with him. Pictured Kai’s hands on her bare skin, his mouth on hers, his body poised between her thighs. She’d pictured him entering her…

  Addison lurched up onto her elbow. Hello. Where had that… lust… come from? They’d only kissed.

  And that kiss had made her weak in the knees.

  Yeah, she wanted him.

  You came here to win the penthouse—not to marry a Navy SEAL chef, she told herself.

  But her body didn’t care. It wanted Kai. Needed him.

  Thought marrying him was a brilliant idea.

  She lay down again, unwilling to succumb to such insanity. Maybe the real problem was the fact she’d been trying to win the penthouse at all. Maybe this was fate’s sick way of showing her how presumptuous that was for someone like her. She wasn’t the penthouse kind; she was a worker bee, not a queen.

  Maybe she was supposed to get to New York under her own steam. Maybe she should forget about owning and resign herself to renting for the rest of her life. Find some little studio apartment she could afford. Find a new job and just keep working—

  She’d have to commit to that plan, though. Be realistic about it in a way she hadn’t been being about the penthouse. She’d never have been able to stay there long-term, after all. Why get used to luxury only to give it up again?

  What would a realistic life in New York City look like? Who would be her friends there? What kind of neighborhood could she afford to live in? Would she even like it with Felicity gone?

  She turned over again.

  She could stay here.

  Alone in her tent, the cold air creeping in until she tugged the sleeping bag up around her shoulders, Addison let herself think about that possibility seriously. If she stayed here and married Kai, what would she be saying yes to?

  A community.

  Shared work.

  Fresh air.

  Interesting people.

  Kai.

  Did she need a penthouse?

  She sat up. Of course she needed a penthouse. It had been her dream for years—ever since Felicity had gotten one. She loved being high up. The view. The windows. The star treatment from everyone. And she wanted the kind of business a person who lived in a penthouse would have. Celebrity clients. Red carpet parties.

  But when she pictured herself striving for that—whether from a penthouse or a shoebox apartment—while Felicity and Evan lived in Europe, the vision seemed… empty. She’d always pictured life in New York with Felicity nearby. She’d wanted to re-create the fun they’d had as kids when pageants weren’t involved.

  Without Felicity—and Evan—she’d have to start all over if she moved to the city, and she wondered how it would feel to rattle around in a huge penthouse all by herself. Even if living there was free, she’d be on a shoestring budget, trying to start a business, scrounging for clients who didn’t care she had no experience—

  Was that any better than living in Hartford?

  Suddenly unmoored, Addison found herself clutching the bedclothes.

  And picturing Kai again.

  No matter what the future held, she wanted to spend more time with him.

  I don’t have to make any decisions tonight, she decided firmly. She needed more time—more information.

  One week, she told herself. She’d already left her life behind to take this challenge that Felicity had imposed on her. She’d keep saying yes for one more week. She’d let the universe do what it wanted with her. But at the end of that week, she’d use logic, foresight and her usual practical mindset to make up her mind what to do next.

  Which probably meant she’d say no to Kai, no to Base Camp.

  And no to New York City.

  KAI’S QUESTIONS HAD kept him awake long into the night, and when Addison turned up in the kitchen early the next morning, she didn’t look like she’d fared much better, but she was brisk and cheerful as she entered the room, and when she asked how she could help, he didn’t turn her away.

  Maybe he was overthinking this. She’d asked about scripts and she was right; many reality television shows did run that way. She might have been concerned about winging her way through the filming. It was reasonable.

  She’d said she’d marry him, he told himself again. He should be content with that.

  But he was anything but content.

  The day had dawned bright, one of those blue-sky fall days with a nip in the air that was bracing rather than uncomfortable. Kai pulled out his notebook, flipped it open and showed her the recipe for a breakfast hash he’d long ago memorized how to make. He knew later he’d need to meet with Angus and figure out what else they needed to do to bolster their dwindling supplies. He’d make sure Addison was somewhere else. He couldn’t trust her with this secret.

  And that killed him, because he wanted to. He wondered what ideas Addison would have about the predicament they found themselves in. She wasn’t a gardener, he reminded himself, but she was creative. You never knew.

  Addison bent over the book, looking at the recipe he’d written in it, the notes all around it in his neat block printing and the tiny sketches he’d made in the margins: potatoes, a grater and other ingredients and tools used to make the dish.

  “This is so… cool,” she said. She flipped a page or two. “There must be hundreds of recipes in here!”

  “At least three hundred,” he admitted. He felt a little strange about her leafing through the book, like someone was looking through his diary—which he’d never kept, for the record.

  “All these notes. Why are there all these different sets of cooking times?”

  “Conventional oven, convection oven, solar oven on a sunny day, solar oven on a cloudy day.”

  “Do solar ovens work on cloudy days?” she looked up, all curiosity.

  “Not all that well,” he admitted.

  “And the rest of this stuff. How to find the ingredients locally… notes about growing things… this is a treasure trove. Do you have a backup copy? Please tell me you have a backup copy,” she said sternly.

  “Nope.” He’d never thought about a backup copy. “This is the only one.”

  “It should be under lock and key,” she exclaimed.

  He couldn’t help the pride that welled up in his chest. He forgot all his troubles for a moment. She got it. He wasn’t sure anyone else except maybe Boone understood the scope of his work. Kai took a moment to look at her again.

  Hell, she was beautiful. Dressed in the same Regency gown she’d worn the day before, she was neat and trim, sweet but sexy.

  Delicious.

  “You should publish this,” she went on, back to leafing through it again.

  He scoffed. “No one would be interested. But I’m trying for a cooking show.” Kai snapped his mouth shut. Why on earth had he told her that? He didn’t know if he could trust her yet. “No one else knows,” he said quickly. “Except Renata.” So far no one had noticed the extra crews filming him, or if they had they must have thought it was because he was the next to be married.

  She nodded solemnly. “I won’t spill the beans,” she promised. “You’ll be a shoe-in for that, though. You’re an amazing cook, and you know how to explain things. Plus, you’re hot; women will love the show. And you’re a SEAL, so men will get into it, too.”

  He was hot? Kai hadn’t heard anything she said after that. Addison thought he was hot?

  Desire stirred in him. He thought she was pretty hot, too. Despit
e his doubts, he itched to touch her.

  “Kai, this is all so amazing,” she went on. “How will you make it happen?”

  “I’m already in touch with a producer. I’m waiting to hear back from him about cutting a pilot.” He couldn’t help himself. “Do you really think it will be a success?”

  She beamed at him. “Yes.”

  OVER THE NEXT two days, Addison threw herself into the goings-on at Base Camp. If she was taking one week out of her usual life, she’d decided it was all or nothing. She’d never get this chance again. When she left the show early she’d need to restore her career back in Connecticut—or find a way to move to New York on her own without going broke. She’d have to work, work, work… just like she’d been doing. She had to make the most of her time here. When Alice delivered her new outfits, the burgundy dress was everything she’d dreamed of. Addison put it on and felt like she’d stepped into a fairy tale.

  First off, she’d decided she wanted to know everything about Kai—and everyone else at Base Camp. If she had to leave in a week, she wanted a lifetime of memories from the experience.

  She’d decided to start with the women, who were about to contend with a large party of guests. She sat in on several meetings and soon got the lay of the land at the bed-and-breakfast. There were a number of activities the women did with all their guests, starting with fittings for their very own Regency clothing. Alice Reed took care of that, having premade gowns ready to alter quickly to fit the guests, like the one Addison was wearing now. Next it was carriage rides, Regency dance lessons, watercolor painting lessons and lavish meals. Once she got a feel for the basic itineraries, it was easy to see where she could help. She used every spare minute she had to relieve the other women of preparation and cleaning duties so they had more time for their personal pursuits.

  For her part, Addison loved every part of it. Alice brought her more clothing, and even cleaning was fun in her still new Regency work dresses as she got to know every corner of the beautiful manor. Preparing for the guests’ arrival had been even better. Nothing made her happier than company.

  She knew many women dreaded housework, but she’d always taken to it. Cleaning stood for more than wiping away dirt to her. It stood for a feeling that a guest got when he or she walked into your home. It stood for her intentions toward her company; her intentions toward her own life. When she spiffed up a room she felt she was opening herself up to possibilities. Creating magic. Setting a stage. The guests had arrived last night, and Addison was doing everything she could to help.

  When she could, she worked on the costume ball, too, determined no one else would suffer for her sins. She refused to let herself think about the fact she wouldn’t be there to experience it. She’d already realized one thing all the women at Westfield had in common was their determination to come through for each other in a pinch. If she left before the dance—no, when she left, Addison corrected herself—Riley or Avery or someone would step in and make sure it came off just fine.

  First came the invitations. Addison wasn’t going to add any expenses to the women’s budget, so she went to town with the Russells and bought invitation blanks on a lovely, heavy paper, paid for them herself and, after creating a guest list with Riley’s help, used calligraphy to address them by hand.

  She was pleased with the results. Calligraphy was another of her talents—and hobbies. She didn’t get to use it enough. The handwriting made the invitations seem more old-fashioned, too. In line with a costume ball held at a Regency B and B.

  She’d talked to Felicity, who apparently didn’t even remember Addison’s call the night she’d been drinking. Addison decided to keep her concerns to herself. Instead of telling her again that everything on the show was real, she asked for Felicity’s help for the props she needed to make the ball a success. “You owe me,” she said. “It’s your turn to say yes.”

  Her sister had, willingly.

  Knowing that Felicity had the decorations well in hand, Addison turned to the question of music, and Maud Russell helped her there, too. She’d heard all about the ball from Alice, and she begged Addison to leave the music to her. “We know such wonderful musicians. We’ll take care of everything.”

  Addison accepted gladly, wondering why Alice should go to such trouble when she was the one who’d imposed the ball on Addison to begin with. Maybe she felt guilty. Rightly so, Addison thought, although she couldn’t stay angry with Alice. The ball was going to be fantastic.

  It killed her she wouldn’t be there to enjoy it.

  Once more cautioning herself to stay in the moment, a mantra she’d always derided but now was her lifeline, Addison focused next on food and drink, but it turned out Maud was all over that, as well. “My cook, Mrs. Wood, will be happy to consult with you.”

  “Mrs. Wood is a dream,” Riley told her when Addison questioned this arrangement. “Just let her run with it unless you have specifics in mind.”

  “Who does the shopping?” Addison asked her.

  “No one. The food magically appears. I’m serious,” Riley said when Addison laughed. “The Russells end up underwriting so much of our parties it’s awful. But you can’t stop them. Believe me; I’ve tried. They’re like, gazillionaires. I have no idea where they got their money, but they spend like there’s no tomorrow.”

  When Mrs. Wood, a sweet, industrious woman, got in touch with her, Addison had several requests, but she quickly realized the other woman knew far better than she how to prepare for a ball.

  “You aren’t upset, are you?” Addison asked Kai later that night. They had fallen into a pattern of taking a walk after their work was done. They talked over their day, Addison carefully steering the conversation away from any discussion of the future. Sometimes they kissed. Kai never pushed things further than that; after all, they were being filmed. “You’re the chef here. Maybe you want to be in charge?”

  “Hell, no. I mean, if I was in the kitchen, I wouldn’t get to have any fun. I want to dance with you.”

  “You do?” Addison was surprised. She hadn’t thought Kai would enjoy that, but when Kai took her hand and pulled her close, she let him. He swung her around in a waltz. He was light on his feet, masterful at guiding her.

  “Yeah, I do.” And he kissed her. “We’d better figure out our costumes. We need to match, right?”

  “I guess,” she said, flustered when he backed away. She wouldn’t be here to wear a costume. “I… uh… don’t know what I want to be,” she said to cover her confusion.

  “How about I be Anthony and you can be Cleopatra. A toga is pretty simple.”

  Addison immediately saw the possibilities, but she shut down her enthusiasm. She wouldn’t be attending the ball, she reminded herself. “Yes,” she said softly, suddenly wishing things were different. “But we’ll get Alice involved. No bedsheets.” No sense embarrassing Kai, even if she wouldn’t be there to see him.

  “I don’t actually have any bedsheets—all I’ve got is a sleeping bag.”

  Chapter Seven

  ‡

  KAI WAS PEELING potatoes from their dwindling supply the next morning when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Addison was chopping onions, scraping the pieces into a big metal bowl every so often. He had to admit he was getting to like having a prep cook. It sped things up, and Addison was easy to work with.

  It had been hard to let her go to her tent last night after their walk. Kissing her was torture since he couldn’t do more than that with the camera crews around.

  Waiting was killing him, but these were early days. He didn’t want to rush things with Addison.

  “Kai here.”

  “Hold for David Linkley.”

  David Linkley? Kai nearly dropped the phone in his attempt to juggle it on his shoulder while wiping his hands, stripping off the apron tied around his waist and smoothing a hand over his hair, as if the producer could see he wasn’t camera-ready at the moment.

  Which was ironic, since he was being filmed even now.

&n
bsp; Addison, head cocked, raised an eyebrow. Kai turned his back on her.

  “Kai?” a masculine voice boomed over the line.

  “Yes. David?” Crap. Was he supposed to call the producer David? Had he ruined his chances in his first utterance?

  “David Linkley here. Want to talk to you about this cooking show idea you’ve got.”

  “Great.” God, he sounded like a boys choir dropout, his voice cracking and weird. He had to pull it together.

  “A SEAL’s Meals. I love it. It’ll sell great with the barbecue crowd. The armchair quarterbacks who like to get their friends together to watch the game. That kind of thing.”

  “Uh—” Barbecue crowd didn’t sound right at all. Kai cooked everything, but he didn’t serve up slabs of meat as a rule because of the damage to the environment that came from the overgrazing of cattle. He’d envisioned aiming his show at a younger, active, educated crowd who loved eating—but were environmentally conscious, too.

  “We want to shoot a pilot. At Base Camp.”

  All Kai’s concerns flew straight out the window. David Linkley wanted to shoot a pilot?

  “That’s… great.” Fuck. What was he saying? Didn’t he know any other words?

  “Good, good. Glad you’re on board. I’ve talked to Renata. She’s all for this. It’s going to be complicated, though; film crews filming film crews. Very meta. Very now. Don’t you worry, we’ll make this show shine. All you have to do is show up with your star power. Think you can do that?”

  “Great. I mean—yes. Yes, I can do that. I’ll be ready for you.”

  “We’ll send over particulars when we have them. Renata will fill you in on our ideas.”

  “Gr—that sounds terrific. Can’t wait to work with you.”

  Linkley hung up, and Kai turned around and pumped his fists. “I got a show!”

  “You got a show?” Addison dropped her knife on the counter and rushed to him. Kai swooped her up and spun her around.

  “I got a show! We’re filming a pilot right here!”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know. Soon.”