One Night with a SEAL

by Tawny Weber

  She leaned against the doorjamb—not exactly blocking the entrance, but not opening her arms wide and inviting him in, either. “Do you and your brother do everything together?”

  He grinned, slow and sexy, and that soft, squishiness in her belly warmed. “Not everything, no.”

  The way he said it made it clear there was one very important thing they didn’t do together.

  Which was fine by her. She’d never been big on the whole ménage à trois thing. She preferred sex to be one-on-one.

  Xander cleared his throat. Shifted. “There a reason you’re asking about Zane?”

  His tone was casual. Too casual. It bothered him, she realized, her bringing up his brother.

  Men. Such sensitive creatures.

  “I didn’t ask about Zane,” she pointed out. “I was just...curious about the whole wonder-twin power thing.”

  Mainly because ninety minutes ago, twin number one had stood in the exact same spot that twin number two currently occupied.

  “Curious,” Xander repeated flatly, his expression set. “About Zane. The same way you were curious last night?”

  She remembered what she’d said to Xander last night when she’d pressed for his kiss.

  I want to appease my curiosity.

  “No,” she said, for some reason not wanting Xander to think she had the same level of interest in Zane that she held for him. “Not the same. Not at all.”

  But she didn’t tell him Zane had been here. That he’d flirted with her last night at the bar. That she’d flirted back.

  A girl was entitled to a few secrets, after all.

  “Now it’s your turn,” she continued when he remained silent. “You get to answer one of my questions. Like...oh, I don’t know, why are you here?”

  “I brought you something.”

  He thrust a small plastic bag at her. Her gaze narrowed. He and Zane had to be psychically linked.

  Because Zane had brought her something, too. A cupcake from the Little Creek Bakery, a gorgeous cupcake topped with whipped cream, a perfectly ripe strawberry and glittery sprinkles. It had almost been too pretty to eat.

  She had eaten it, of course. She wasn’t an idiot.

  It had tasted even better than it looked.

  She took the bag and reached inside. Stared at the object. Zane had brought her a pretty, sweet treat and Xander had brought her...

  “A dead bolt?” She looked from the dead bolt to him and back again. “You’re giving me a dead bolt. Wow. And it’s not even my birthday.”

  “It’s for your door.”

  “Yes. I figured that. I didn’t think you wanted me to put it on my shorts.”

  He blushed, either due to his stating the obvious or her smartass reply. Color climbed his neck. Stained his cheeks.

  It was adorable.

  “You need one,” he said then cursed under his breath. “On the door. One well-placed kick and anyone could get through the regular lock.”

  “I’ll take your word for it as I don’t have all that much door-kicking experience.” She handed him the dead bolt. “Have at it. But I hope you brought your own toolbox. I don’t have one. The last time I had to tighten a screw, I used a butter knife.”

  “I did. But I’m not installing it.” He gave it back to her. “You are.”

  “Yet another thing I don’t have any experience with.” And not what she had planned on her list of things to do today. “Sorry.”

  “I’ll teach you. And we’ll go over a few self-defense moves. Carrying pepper spray is great—and smart,” he added quickly, “but you need to be able to protect yourself in case an attacker gets physical.”

  Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she studied him. “You want to show me how to install a dead bolt and give me a lesson in self-defense?” He nodded. “Don’t you have better things to do? Like spend time with your family or see your old friends or, I don’t know, drive around town, soaking up the memories?”

  He took off his sunglasses and met her eyes. “There’s nothing I’d rather be doing, nowhere I’d rather be.”

  It was a line. It had to be. But it was a good one and, God, the way he said it like that with warmth in his eyes, sincerity in his tone...

  She couldn’t help but believe him.

  Couldn’t help but trust him.

  Despite the little voice inside her head screaming at her not to.

  * * *

  SHE WAS A fast learner, Xander thought later.

  Fast enough that he barely evaded having his balls shoved up to his throat by her knee.

  “Good,” he told her, rolling out of the way when she went for his eyes.

  She had the right take-no-prisoners attitude and decent muscle tone in her long, lean body. But they’d been at it since she’d finished installing the dead bolt almost forty-five minutes ago and she was getting tired.

  And that led to being sloppy. To making mistakes.

  “That’s enough for today,” he said, and she collapsed into a heap on her living room floor.

  “Oh, thank God.” Her breathing was heavy and did some really interesting things to her tight tank top. “I thought the only way to get you to stop was by killing you, and I didn’t want to get any bloodstains in here. I’m hoping to get my deposit back on this place.”

  He went into the kitchen and found the glasses in an upper cabinet. After filling one with water from the faucet, he went back to the living room, crouched down and handed it to her.

  With a groan she sat up and took the glass. Sipped. “Thanks.”

  “You don’t plan on staying here?”

  “Here as in this apartment? Or here as in Little Creek?” She shook her head. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter, as the answer to both is no. I’m only back in town temporarily.”

  “Until...?”

  Her mouth flattened and he didn’t think she’d answer. That she’d evade or change the subject like she did whenever he asked her a personal question. Whenever he got too close.

  Instead, she surprised him.

  “Until I pay off my debts.” She gave a stiff, uncomfortable shrug. “Contrary to popular belief, getting a divorce isn’t always the cheap and easy option. At least it wasn’t either in my case. But it was still worth it. Even if I never manage to climb out this financial hole I dug for myself.”

  Taking her free hand, he tugged her to her feet, the move bringing their bodies flush. Desire flashed through him, hard and fast. He tamped it down. “You will.”

  “Oh? You’re a fortune-teller now?”

  “I don’t have to see the future,” he said, unable to hide the huskiness of his tone. He slid his hand up her arm then down again, reveling in her small tremble. “I see you. And you can do anything you set your mind to.”

  Her soft exhale was shaky. “You make it so hard,” she murmured.

  Biting his cheek so he didn’t smile, he nodded. “Ditto.”

  She stilled for a moment then burst out laughing. He grinned. He liked making her laugh.

  He liked it a lot.

  “I meant you make it hard for me to remember to be smart. When you say things like that, when you look at me that way...you make me feel like the girl I used to be.” She shook her head and stepped back, out of his arms. “But I can’t be her anymore. I don’t want to be her.”

  “You’re the same person, Quinn. People don’t change. Not completely.”

  It was the wrong thing to say. Her mouth thinned and she crossed her arms. “I have. I won’t go back. Not for anything.”

  Not for you.

  She didn’t say it but he heard her meaning loud and clear.

  “Was she so bad?” he asked softly. “The girl you used to be?”

  Something flashed in her eyes, something t
hat told him she missed that girl more than she was willing to admit. “She wasn’t real. That’s what you don’t get. What no one got. She was whatever people wanted her to be, whoever they needed her to be. I’m just me. No longer gullible or willing to play a part. No longer reckless.”

  He pulled her to him once more, the move slow enough, easy enough that she could stop it any time she wanted.

  She didn’t.

  He settled his hands on her waist, slid his fingers under the hem of her tank top and lightly caressed her warm, soft skin. “What’s life without a little risk?”

  “Safe,” she whispered. “It’s safe.”

  “Sounds boring.”

  She rolled her eyes and once again slipped away from him, this time to carry her glass into the kitchen. “Says the man who gets shot at for a living.”

  He followed her, leaning against the partition separating the rooms as she put her glass in the sink. “Not every day.”

  Though on more occasions than he could admit.

  Mainly because most of those times had been classified missions.

  “Yeah, well, boring or not, I’m going to stick with it.” She sent him a long look over her shoulder. “But that’s not to say I’m against finding myself a little excitement when the mood strikes.”

  “A little excitement?”

  “Well, I’m hoping it’s at least average-sized, but a girl never can tell.”

  “Hoping?” he asked, not about to set her straight on the size of his excitement. It would sound like bragging. Or lying. “Does that mean the mood has struck?”

  “Now who’s the one who’s hoping?”

  “It’s what gets me through the day.”

  She laughed. “How about we just say that I’m...considering my options.”

  Considering her options. At least she wasn’t kicking his ass to the curb.

  He’d take it.

  And do everything in his power to make sure that after she’d considered those options, she chose him.

  6

  SHE OWED HIM. That was what Quinn told herself an hour later as she walked down Main Street with Xander, the sun shining brightly overhead. She owed him for bringing her that dead bolt and for the self-defense lesson. That was the only reason she’d agreed to go with him, to help him shop for a present for his sister.

  Okay, okay. So maybe it wasn’t the only reason. She liked being with him. He was quiet, yes, but when he spoke—dear Lord, when he spoke—the things he said? They resonated.

  His words burrowed inside of her, warm and bright, like she’d swallowed the sun.

  I see you. And you can do anything you set your mind to.

  How was a girl supposed to resist that?

  Why would she want to?

  But that didn’t mean she was going to toss aside her caution. Considering her options, that was all she was doing.

  She glanced at him. And if she enjoyed the view—and his company—while she did so? Well, that was just an added bonus.

  “What about something from the bakery?” she asked as they came upon the building with its new striped awning. She had firsthand experience of how good their cupcakes were.

  Not that she planned on mentioning Zane again. She didn’t have any brothers or sisters so she didn’t understand the whole sibling-rivalry thing, but when she’d brought up Zane’s name—innocently—Xander’s expression had said it all.

  He didn’t want her talking about his brother. It was almost as if he was...jealous.

  Which she didn’t want, she assured herself even as pure feminine delight went through her. She was too old for high school games, pitting one guy against another. And she didn’t want Zane.

  She should, she thought with a frown. He was exactly the type of guy she usually went for. The type of guy she used to go for. Charming and fun and that sexy bad-boy edge didn’t hurt, either.

  But maybe... She slid another glance at Xander, the sun shining on his light hair, his eyes once again hidden behind sunglasses. Maybe there was something to be said for the boy-next-door thing.

  Who knew?

  Xander stopped and considered the bakery, then shook his head.

  Quinn raised her eyebrows. “Chocolate?” she asked. “There’s a candy store down the block.”

  “No.”

  “Okay. What about flowers?”

  He snorted. “So she can shove them up my ass?” he muttered. “No, thanks.”

  “Hold on, hold on,” Quinn said, touching his arm to get him to stop, a thought occurring to her. “What did you do?”

  “What?”

  “To your sister,” she clarified, suspicion lacing her tone. Which made sense as she was becoming mighty suspicious. “You said she was angry with you, but you didn’t say why.”

  Quinn didn’t know Kerri Bennett—now Kerri Finch—all that well, but from what she remembered, Kerri was a perfectly nice woman. And not the type to shove flowers up anybody’s ass.

  Taking off his sunglasses, Xander stepped closer, his brow lowered, his voice soft. And angry. “I don’t lie.”

  The vehemence in his tone, the way he read her so damn easily, had her back going up. “I didn’t say you did.”

  “You didn’t have to. You think I made up the story about needing help picking out a gift for my sister so I could spend more time with you, but that’s not how I work. I don’t lie,” he repeated. “I don’t cheat. And when I want to spend time with a woman, I tell her. No games. No excuses.”

  And now she felt like the idiot she’d insisted just last night she wasn’t. “So you don’t want to spend time with me?”

  “You have no idea what I want.”

  Oh, my. She swallowed and licked her lips, her next words out before she could think them through. “Tell me.”

  Something hot and wicked flashed in his eyes. “I want to get to know you. Your fears and dreams and goals. What you like. What you don’t. What you think and feel.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, husky growl that scraped across her nerve endings. “I want to kiss you again. I want to touch you. Taste you. I want to make you come with my fingers. With my tongue. And then, when you’re weak with pleasure, your body quivering with it, I want to do it all over again.”

  God. God! He didn’t have to wait—she felt plenty weak now, arousal snaking through her system, dampening her panties. She could picture him doing all of the above with a skill she was certain would leave her not only quivering but begging for more.

  He’d leave and she’d be left wanting more.

  She’d be left alone.

  “I’m not your ex,” he said, as if reading her mind, “or any of the other guys who hurt you, Quinn.”

  She dropped her gaze, her heart racing. “I’m trying,” she blurted, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “I’m trying to trust you. Doesn’t that count for something?”

  He sighed. “It counts.” Taking her lightly by the elbow, he steered her down the sidewalk. Nodded curtly at a woman a few years younger than them who greeted him with a hopeful “I’d like to eat you up” smile. “This morning, I may have asked Kerri if she thought eating three slices of French toast swimming in butter and syrup was the best decision.”

  Once again Quinn stopped. This time in shock. “You told a pregnant woman she was fat? Holy cow,” she breathed. “You’re either the bravest man alive. Or the dumbest.”

  He squeezed the back of his neck, shifted his weight. “I didn’t say she was fat. The word fat never came out of my mouth.”

  “It may as well have.”

  “What was I supposed to do? When I called her a month ago she started blubbering about some hurtful comment her doctor made about her weight during her checkup. I was just trying to save her from herself.”

  “She didn’
t want you to save her. She just wanted you to listen, maybe offer up a few words of encouragement and/or commiseration.”

  His shoulders hunched. “Now you tell me.”

  He looked so miserable, so embarrassed and remorseful, Quinn about melted into a puddle of lust and longing and growing affection at his feet.

  Not good. Not good at all.

  But she couldn’t seem to stop it from happening. Just as she couldn’t stop herself from what she did next.

  “Come on,” she said, taking him by the hand and tugging him to the curb. She checked for traffic then stepped onto the crosswalk. “I know the perfect gift.”

  * * *

  QUINN’S PERFECT GIFT came at a price.

  But dropping a couple hundred bucks was a small price to pay if it meant earning Kerri’s forgiveness.

  Plus, it had the added benefit of Quinn helping him.

  No, he wouldn’t make up an excuse to get her to spend more time with him.

  But that didn’t mean he’d turn one down if he happened to have a good one.

  They walked out of the spa side by side, which wasn’t as good as walking in hand in hand, but Quinn was still with him, had initiated that hand holding, was talking and smiling up at him.

  He’d take it. He’d take all of it.

  But what he wanted to take most of all was her.

  “You think an afternoon in there is long enough?” he asked as they headed back toward his truck, walking close enough that their arms brushed. “She might need a day or two.” He glanced at Quinn. “She holds a grudge.”

  “Are you afraid of her?”

  “Terrified,” he told her honestly. “She has a mean streak.”

  “I thought she was a kindergarten teacher?”

  He nodded solemnly. “She hides it well.”

  As he’d hoped, Quinn laughed. “After a few hours of being pampered, she’ll be a new woman.” She nudged him with her hip. “Better yet, she’ll forget all about wanting to kill you.”

  “Maybe. But I’m still sleeping with one eye open while I’m here.”

  “It must be nice, seeing your family. Spending time with them.”