Accidental SEAL (SEAL Brotherhood #1)

by Hamilton, Sharon

  “Yes. He cooked me dinner last night. I was tired and turned in early afterward.”

  Madame giggled again.

  “Alone. I went to bed alone.” Christy didn’t want to offend her former boss, but she needed to make it clear where she stood. “You didn’t tell me about his divorce.”

  “Oui. I thought he should be the one to tell you, if he wished. And I see he has.”

  “Yes.”

  “C’est bien. I will be over in about twenty minutes. Tom told me he is cooking breakfast for us, if that is all right with you. I am running a little late, and a restaurant trip would make us even later.”

  “Fine.” But Christy couldn’t deny the knot in her stomach.

  She walked across the brick patio that gurgled with water sounds from two fountains. Bright multi-colored lilies stood at attention along the path and gave off a heady aroma. She stopped and inhaled the glorious scent, filling her head with toxic thoughts of Kyle and how much she missed his hard flesh next to hers. How much she missed his kisses. How much she missed the way he used her body to bring them both such pleasure.

  She opened the screen door and stepped into a kitchen filled with cooking smells and the light lacing of jazz in the background. Tom was in faded blue jeans with another blue shirt, buttoned low. But he had a flowered apron on, and that made her chuckle. He turned and flashed her a smile right out of GQ, holding a green spatula in his right hand.

  “Wow. You are a vision, Christy. I’m…I’m speechless.” He took a long, lingering look down the entire length of her body and back up, his eyes hungry. She hadn’t dressed for him, but for Madame M’s customers. But she liked it that he found her attractive. She couldn’t help it. He wasn’t bad to look at, either.

  She smiled, which pleased him.

  “Thanks for cooking breakfast for us. Madame M just called me. She’s on her way now.”

  “Yes, I know. She called me, too.” He remained fixed in place, the utensil held like the Statue of Liberty’s torch.

  Christy cocked her head. “You guys are conspiring. I can tell.”

  He set down his spatula and stood in front of her. She could feel his body’s heat. “It’s a deadly game. I needed her help.”

  “You?” she asked, stepping back to a cool distance.

  He looked at his feet and slid his palms into his front pockets, then shrugged his shoulders. “I had hoped you would come see me last night.” He raised his blue eyes to hers. They watered. He licked his lips and focused on hers. She wished now she was wearing pink, not red.

  “Tom.” Christy stopped. Her words were going to come out harsh, and that wasn’t what she wanted. “Look, I thought I made myself perfectly clear last night. I’m not interested in a relationship right now.”

  “But we already have one.”

  She looked down.

  I’ve used this line. Places reversed.

  She looked back up at him and studied his kind face. She could have loved him, at another time and place. But not now. Not after meeting Kyle.

  “Yes, and I’d very much like to keep that friendship, if that is possible. I’m grateful for your generosity, Tom, for letting me stay here. But let’s not get carried away.”

  It was hard to look at him. His tanned and lean body came close again. He held her face in his hands as he bent down. She was afraid he would kiss her, and she knew she would break away. Could he feel how her spine went stiff?

  “I’m sorry, Tom.” She placed her hands over his. She tried to reflect back to him the kindness she saw in his eyes. Without the need.

  He pulled her body to his chest and embraced her. “Not to worry, Christy. Just know that I am here.” He kissed the top of her head, and whispered, “But just give me a chance to make you happy.”

  She nodded to his chest. But these were not the arms she wanted to be enveloped in.

  Will I ever be able to forget him?

  They dropped their arms and the awkward silence forced them both to smile. Something was smoking on the stove. He ran to the smoking pan of bacon, which was spattering all over the stovetop. He reached up and turned up the six-foot stainless steel commercial hood fan.

  “I know this isn’t good for you. But I love bacon for breakfast sometimes,” he said.

  “Yes, thank you. I’m somewhat of an expert on things that are bad for me.”

  With the smoke under control, Tom fired up his espresso maker, busying himself with making her a cappuccino. He delivered the little cup and saucer filled with foamed half-and-half and garnished with a little nutmeg—just the way she liked it. And he smiled as she took it.

  “Thank you. This is perfect.”

  “I am a student of what a beautiful woman desires.” His voice was low and raspy.

  Where had he learned she loved cappuccinos? She slipped by him and planted herself at the eating bar. The espresso drink was indeed as perfect as it looked. He’d even sculpted a heart into the creamy foam on top.

  Why couldn’t this be Kyle in the kitchen? Why couldn’t we be here, thinking about what we could do today? We could go to Chinatown. Walk along the piers. Eat oysters and warmed olives. Sip wine and watch the Marin Ferry go and come.

  Tom turned and she could feel his eyes on her, though her gaze had traveled out the windows toward the bay watching all the little sailboats already out on the dark blue water.

  “It’s going to be a lovely day. No fog,” she said as she sighed.

  “I ordered it special,” he answered. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to make you happy.”

  Christy sipped her cappuccino. “You don’t make it easy, Tom.”

  “Nor do you. I look at you, and, well…I think to myself…”

  “Are you sure it isn’t just loneliness, Tom?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Oh, yes. It matters.

  Christy couldn’t answer him. She now knew it was not a good idea to stay here. Tom was not picking up the message like she’d hoped. She stood and walked with her cappuccino to peer out the front living room windows. She heard the slam of a car door down below. Madame M’s driver in the black Lincoln was rounding the rear. He stopped, got out, and then opened up the passenger door. Christy noted how frail the older woman was as she extricated herself from the rear seat, refusing assistance from the driver.

  Madame M sighed and looked up at the long bank of crisscrossed stairs leading to Tom’s front door. Her initial expression of concern changed when she saw Christy’s face. Her mask, that impenetrable face of steel, came back, and she took to the first few steps like she was a triathlete. But she soon tired. Eventually she made it to the top, even accepting the driver’s assistance.

  They ate spinach and mushroom omelets and buttered cranberry-orange scones, and drank more cappuccino and fresh orange juice. Though Madame M was several years older than Tom, the banter between the two was passionate, with all statements taking on a double entendre. They continued with their sexy word play all during the breakfast. Christy found it lightened her mood, took her mind off all the problems that were looming on the horizon. She imagined Madame M had been quite the tease as a younger woman and wondered why she spent so much of her life alone. She’d have been a great partner.

  They were ready to leave. Madame M had checked to make sure her driver hadn’t left.

  “Tom, could I trouble you for another cappuccino for the road, for Carlo?”

  “No problem. Christy, you want to take one, too?”

  “No thanks, I’ve had plenty.”

  Tom prepared Madame’s espresso drink in a white mug, without the nutmeg sprinkles, and handed it to the older woman with a bag containing the remaining orange scone.

  “Just send the cup home with Christy tonight,” he said.

  “Oui, certainement.”

  Christy found it difficult to look into Tom’s blue eyes knowing he would be again asking her to share his bed this evening. And again she’d have to turn him down.

  “What time will you retu
rn?” he asked, right on cue.

  “Oh, well, perhaps six or seven, what do you think, cheríe?” Madame asked. “You want to go to dinner afterwards?”

  “No, I’ll just pick something up on my way home.” Christy said.

  “I was hoping to be prepared. I wanted to cook for Christy again. I’ve bought everything I need.”

  “I will have Carlo deliver her promptly at six, then. That settles it.”

  Christy knew Tom was watching her as she stepped out the front door behind Madame M. She hadn’t said goodbye to the man she was going to have to turn down tonight. And this time, she’d have to take the gloves off, to make sure he understood there wasn’t going to be a sexual relationship brewing.

  On the way to the shop, Madame M leaned against Christy’s frame. They were seated together in the back of the black car. Familiar buildings flashed by the window. Christy hadn’t realized she missed the city so much.

  “I don’t understand you, my dear. You could do worse than Tom. And I think he likes you.”

  “You think?” Christy frowned. “I don’t want to involve him.”

  “You already have, cheríe. I can smell a man in love a block away.”

  “I’m not ready for all that.”

  “Then tell him to wait. Give him one sign, a little hope, and I think he’ll wait. But someone is going to land a very nice future with a handsome billionaire.”

  At Christy’s surprised expression, Madame M continued. “Oh yes, he’s now a billionaire. It was in Baron’s. One of the top 100 in the US now.”

  “Good for him.” It mattered little to her. “I’m sure his ex wives would be grateful.”

  “Ah, cheríe, that’s not kind. He has only one ex, as you know. And she, well, she…”

  “He told me about her.”

  “He has no children. I understand he wants them now. That means he will be looking for a younger woman.”

  “Please, Madame M. Don’t do this anymore. I’m here to help you.”

  They spent the morning going over shop procedures. Traffic was very light. Christy found herself back in the rhythm of the little place on Maiden Lane, with its exotic French Lavender fragrance, the Piaf music playing softly in the background, and Madame M’s murmurs in French as she sorted, checked off lists of orders, and poured her arthritic hands over the lacy fabric of pretty things.

  Christy found a new boxed Parisian couture bra and panty set made of light rose-colored gossamer and embroidered in tiny white and light pink flowers that was exactly her size. The retail price was over three hundred dollars for the pair. Madame M caught her drooling over them.

  “Take them. Just wear them for something special.” She pushed the box into Christy’s chest. “I insist.”

  “You mustn’t spoil me this way, Madame.”

  “Now, my dear, you must learn to say thank you. That is all I require.” Madame had her hands on her tiny hips, tapping the floor with the black toe of her ballet slipper.

  The door behind Christy tinkled as someone with heavy footsteps walked in.

  Chapter 33

  Kyle called Simms four times. As one hour turned into two, it became clear to him the man was ignoring him. He jumped in the truck and headed for Patterson Realty.

  The receptionist gave him a squinting frown like the vice principal at his school had all those years ago when Kyle and his buddy Marc tried to skip class. They liked to hang out behind the gym and watch the girl’s volleyball team practice. Marc was dating the captain, a long-legged giraffe of a girl who was about two inches taller than him. Kyle loved looking at the black spandex and blond pigtail of his favorite girl. Way more important than History or English.

  “I’m Kyle Lansdowne. I’ve left like several messages for Mr. Simms, and I know his car is here. Can I see him?” He tried to soften her sharp inspection with a killer smile that usually worked. But the woman was hardened. Not exactly unattractive, but damaged somehow.

  “No. He’s asked not to be disturbed.”

  Just then Wayne Somerville came into the lobby, carrying an overstuffed briefcase and a load of manila files. His white shirt was over-stretched across his chest. It wasn’t as big as his fleshy belly. One of the fake pearl buttons was about to pop at any moment.

  “Hey there, Wayne. Remember me?” Kyle was watching the receptionist out of the corner of his eye. He needed to have an excuse to be here, to talk to Simms.

  The startled look on Wayne’s face told him Wayne had remembered the encounter days before. Kyle continued. “Christy was showing me condos, and all of a sudden she’s disappeared.”

  “Uh huh.” Wayne said, juggling the files under his left arm. He leaned back and briefly looked at the receptionist standing at Kyle’s back.

  Kyle continued. “Don’t know what the protocol is, but I got a bonus coming, and if she’s not available, I was wondering…”

  Simms entered the lobby area. “Stacey, I’m going to step out for some…” He stopped in his tracks at the sight of Kyle, and uttered a soft, “Oh.”

  Wayne was quick on his feet and launched into his salesman persona. “It’s okay, Carl, he and I were just talking about real estate things. I got it.” Wayne winked at his manager. “Kyle, let me put these down at my desk and we’ll…”

  “Just one second, Wayne. I need to talk to your manager first. Give me a card. I’ll call you later on, if that works for you.” Kyle could see Somerville’s blood pressure was rising. A fat vein pulsed at the side of his thick, deep, pink neck. “I promise. I will call you later on.” He didn’t think Wayne was dishonest. Just gutless.

  Wayne glared at his manager, then nodded. Repositioning his files, he produced a card from his shirt pocket and handed it to Kyle.

  Kyle put the dog-eared card in his back pocket and turned to Simms, ignoring Somerville. With a firm hand on the manager’s shoulder, indicating he wouldn’t take no for an answer, he said, “I’ll buy you a sandwich and we can talk.” He leaned into Simms’ personal space and whispered, “You got the address?”

  “Not yet.”

  Kyle knew it was a complete lie. “Hear me out, first. It’s a matter of life and death.” Kyle whispered.

  Simms turned and glared at the receptionist. “Hold down the fort for a half hour. I’ll be right back.”

  The lack of response from the receptionist made the room seem small. Kyle pushed Simms out the door and toward his truck.

  Once outside, Simms backed up and put his palms out toward Kyle, distancing him from the SEAL. “Look, fella. I don’t want any trouble. I’ve already talked to the authorities.”

  “No trouble. Not here to make any trouble for you or anyone.” Kyle whispered. He opened the driver door to the bench seat of Gunny’s truck. “Get in. Now.”

  Simms hesitantly looked around first, then climbed into the cab and scooted over to the passenger side. His brown Oxfords were nicely polished but didn’t match his grey suit, Kyle thought. The flesh appearing over the tops of his socks was pasty white.

  He took Simms to a Burger Palace and paid for their order. He sat across the man and dipped fries into a little white paper cup of catsup.

  “The fries are the best here.”

  “Um…”

  “So why won’t you give me Christy’s address? I know she called you.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “You just told me.”

  Simms muttered, shook his head, and looked to the left.

  “She is in danger. She trusts some very bad guys.”

  “No doubt. I think I’m sitting across from one.”

  “Come on, Simms. If you really thought that, you wouldn’t be here.”

  “I have a healthy respect for your profession. But I’ve been told…”

  “Who told you about me? Besides Christy.” Kyle couldn’t help but blush.

  “Well, let’s see. I got a visit from a Deputy Hilber and some other Navy MP guy with an unpleasant demeanor. I’ve received a couple of calls from the San Diego PD
I haven’t returned. There’s you. And of course Christy.”

  “Look, I don’t know how to make you believe this, but she really is in danger. I’m trying to protect her.”

  “That’s what the sheriff’s deputy said, too.”

  “Yeah, and he’s dirty.”

  “And that’s what he says about you.”

  “Not a chance in hell. This guy actually killed one of his own men. I saw it.”

  “So why aren’t the cops out looking for him instead of you?”

  “I don’t have all the answers. But the only reason they want Christy is to get to me. They’re not really interested in arresting me.”

  Kyle and Simms shared a look. Kyle could see Simms was thinking over his words.

  The two men ate in silence. Kyle wiped his mouth and fingers on the thin white napkin. He took out a small notebook from his vest pocket, wrote a number on it, along with a name. He tore the perforated page off and slipped it across the table to Simms with one finger.

  “Call him. He’s my CO. He’ll vouch for me.”

  Simms took the paper, but shook his head as he slipped it into his wallet.

  “You gotta hurry up, though,” Kyle continued. “We are running out of time.” Kyle saw fear written in the man’s eyes. A second later it was gone.

  “Take me back to the office. Now.” Simms’s burger and fries were half eaten.

  “Where the hell you been, Kyle?” Timmons barked into the receiver.

  “Talked to you yesterday, sir.”

  “I got people all over the place looking for you. This is no good, son. You any closer to finding Armando? I’m going to have to pull rank here to keep myself out of the ringer now.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Look. I think this Deputy Hilber guy is after Christy now. Her manager, a Mr. Simms, won’t give me her address, but I understand this guy has been snooping around, looking for her. Saying he’s trying to protect her from me, of all people.”

  “That’s becoming a common thought every time another body turns up.”

  “I asked him to call you, sir. Did he?”

  “Hilber?”

  “No. Simms.”

  “Nope.”