by Tawny Weber
“You don’t give her enough credit,” Roz was saying as Livi slid into her seat.
Livi sighed, wishing she could turn around and leave again.
“Believe me, I give my daughter more credit than she gives herself.”
True, Livi mentally agreed as she scooped up a forkful of mashed potatoes. Mmm, real butter. Livi thought about commenting but decided she’d be better off reveling in the rich food and staying out of the hissing match.
“Livi went head-to-head with a SEAL and won.”
“I beg your pardon?”
The butter stuck in Livi’s throat.
Oh, hell.
Heads turned at Pauline’s icy tone. Livi wanted to take her food and crawl under the table.
Or better yet, right back outside.
“It was a tie,” Livi muttered before facing her mother, ready to appease. “And it was nothing, really.”
Pauline’s face was turning the same purple as Livi’s skirt. It didn’t look nearly as good on her, though.
“Nothing?” Roz hooted. “You drew in a push-up competition with a SEAL. Believe me, nobody does that. Especially not against that particular SEAL.”
Stop. Please, don’t say anything else. Eyes wide, Livi tried to send her aunt the message. Roz knew Pauline’s prejudice against all things Navy and SEAL. But Roz was too busy trying to score points to pay Livi any attention.
“Olivia?” Her mother’s look could have sent Jack Frost running for a sweater. “Is this true?”
Before Livi could answer, Roz leaned forward, stabbing her turkey-loaded fork in the air. “Someone issued a challenge and she stepped up, met it and kicked butt. There aren’t many men who can compete against a SEAL. But Livi did.”
Most men didn’t flirt and use sexual innuendo against SEALs, either.
“You entered a fitness challenge against one of the Navy’s best?” Pauline said slowly, looking to Roz for confirmation instead of Livi.
“Best of the best.” Roz nodded. Then, realizing she’d thrown her niece under a bus, she added, “All Livi did was help me out after these guys challenged her. You know how they can be. What’s a girl to do except kick some butt?”
Kick some butt? Livi almost laughed out loud. She remembered grabbing some butt—and a very nice butt at that. But she didn’t figure her mother needed to know that.
She wiped the amusement off her face when Pauline glanced her way, her pale blue eyes assessing the situation.
“You beat a SEAL in a straight push-up challenge?” she asked.
“It’s no big deal. Why don’t we eat before the food gets cold?” Livi suggested, lifting her fork. “Delicious gourmet Thanksgiving food, remember?”
“Let me finish thinking this through.”
Oh, no. She knew that look. It was her mother’s “how can we make this molehill into an attention-grabbing mountain” look.
Livi had a lot to be grateful to her mother for. Her career was kicking fitness butt thanks to Pauline’s vision and drive. And Livi loved that. But, damn it, she was still so worn-out. For an introvert to spend over a year touring and meeting people was a lot. For a shy introvert? It was a dance through hell. She’d done it once. She could—would—do it again. But she had to recharge first.
“I’m on hiatus,” she reminded her mother. “No new projects until next year, remember?”
“Darling, you know I never break a promise.” Her smile edged with calculation, Pauline reached over to take Livi’s hand. “But we need a new focus. A way to reach the top. This could be it.”
“I thought we’d had it with the Fit To Be Naked program.” She didn’t mention the television deal. Hey, if that’d fallen off Pauline’s radar, she wasn’t about to bring it up again.
“Fit To Be Naked got you noticed, darling. And the projected earnings are fabulous. But now is the time to capitalize on your rise, not to relax.” Pauline patted her hand. “You wouldn’t train for a marathon then take a week’s vacation before running it, would you?”
Maybe. It depended on what was waiting for her at the finish line.
“The SEALs’ fitness program is famous. It’s one of the most sought-after in the country,” Pauline mused, turning to Roz. “I researched it when I was looking for markets for Olivia. Hundreds of trainers offer what they call a SEAL workout, but they’re usually based on supposition.”
“Bet you’d get a lot more traction if you had SEAL input,” Roz chimed in, sliding her turkey through the gravy.
Livi was pretty sure this was the first time she’d seen her mother and aunt make nice with each other.
“You want me to develop a SEAL workout?” Livi asked slowly, not wanting to say anything that’d mess with the tentative peace.
“I think it’s worth looking into.” Pauline nodded.
“Our girl here can probably tap a SEAL herself and get some info.” Seeing Livi’s frantic, if tiny, shake of her head, Roz quickly added, “Or you know, I can pull some strings, see if I can get some inside info on their actual training.”
Grateful, Livi sipped her water. Then it hit her like a bolt of lusty lightning. This was another way to connect with Mitch. Excitement swirled in her belly, her pulse doing a little happy dance.
“Well, then,” Pauline said, lifting her glass in a toast. “It looks as if we have a fun new project for the New Year.”
Livi almost did a happy dance herself, right there in the middle of the restaurant.
She couldn’t wait until January first.
* * *
MITCH STRODE DOWN the hall to Captain Tilden’s office, wondering about his order to report immediately. He couldn’t imagine what Public Affairs wanted with him. He and the team had completed their mission three days ago and finished debriefing the previous one—nothing that’d merit a press release. If there had been anything else PR-worthy, Mitch knew his grandfather would have filled him in. The Admiral had headed back to Virginia after the debriefing, leaving orders for Mitch to follow before Christmas Eve. That order, the Admiral had added, had come from Denise, who would withhold his Christmas pudding if her son weren’t in attendance.
Apparently there were occasions when a mother just had to buck protocol.
With almost two weeks before he had to make that appearance, Mitch planned to put his time to good use. He had to collect on a bet. He’d only talked to Livi once since Halloween, but her phone number was etched in his memory. He was looking forward to using it.
He had been too well trained to let thoughts of her distract him from the job at hand. But Mitch had drifted off to sleep each night remembering the taste of her.
He knew Romeo would claim that those bedtime memories proved Mitch was addicted. But Mitch figured it was just the opposite. It’d been six weeks since he’d tasted her, and he’d managed to contain his thoughts all that time.
He deserved a reward.
And he’d get it tonight.
Today he was diving into vigorous obstacle training. The team needed to work off the adrenaline from the mission before they shifted back to the tactical flight command training he was in Coronado for. He’d been leading the team in a belly crawl over the sand, each man carrying a fifty-pound log on his back, when the order to report came in.
Now he had to find out why.
Mitch stopped outside the captain’s office, took off his cap and beat it against the leg of his fatigues to knock off the sand. Then he put it back on and stepped through the door.
Standing out like a sore thumb was the tiny potted evergreen decorated with glittering anchors and miniscule sailors’ caps. Utilitarian gray with a glittering candy cane broach, Tilden’s secretary was a perfect match for the sparsely furnished office. She glanced up from her keyboard when he entered and tilted her head to the other door.
“He aske
d that you go right in,” she instructed in a gravelly voice.
Deciding that Tilden must do most of his public relations on the internet or at lunch, Mitch knocked to announce his arrival, then stepped into the room.
The first thing that hit him was a scent.
The ocean at midnight.
Livi?
“Mitch Donovan. What a pleasure.”
Brow creased at the greeting, Mitch looked around the room. The only person there was Captain Tilden. The guy was his grandfather’s age, but unlike Admiral Donovan’s air of dignified leadership, Tilden’s air was that of a happy hippo. Wide-faced, with jowls that had a mind of their own, the guy hefted himself out from behind the desk and came forward with his hand out.
His own hand halfway to a salute, Mitch quickly changed directions and shook Tilden’s hand. He surreptitiously sniffed to see if the guy was wearing Livi’s perfume.
Nope. Just cheap cigars and—Mitch sniffed again—was that roast beef?
“Sir,” Mitch said, feet planted hip distance apart, hands clasped behind his back. “Donovan reporting as ordered.”
“I don’t stand on ceremony in here. Go ahead, take a seat,” the man suggested, as he did the same.
Once Mitch sat, the captain tapped his fingers on his desk twice and smiled.
“Our office has been asked to accommodate a media venture. The SEALs workout program is one of the most sought-after, as you know. The press is all over it. Hundreds claim they are teaching it. Everyone wants a piece. It’s like they think if they can do a SEAL workout, they’re hot shit.”
Mitch waited a beat, not bothering to react. He knew Tilden was trying to get a rise out of him. But Mitch had trained as a green ensign under some of the toughest recruit division commanders in the Navy. Until the pudgy cigar puffer across the desk found a ruder way to insult Mitch’s mama, one that included ocean life, twenty sailors and a cannon, he wouldn’t even come close to riling Mitch up.
“How does this apply to me?” Mitch finally asked. He could see how they could make it apply, but he’d have liked to be wrong.
“You’re the man,” Tilden said, cocking his finger like a gun and pulling the trigger. “Big SEAL on campus, so to speak. You’ll be the go-to guy for this project. The public face.”
“Wouldn’t someone else—” anyone else “—be better suited for this? One of the BUD/S trainers, for example.”
“The orders came down from on high, my friend. Special request. You are the golden boy and they want you in the limelight. Might have something to do with that brand-spanking-new promotion you got, Commander.”
And there it was. The reason the Captain was acting like a dumbass. Well, Mitch considered, looking the guy over, one of the reasons. Mitch had dealt with plenty of that in his years of service. The judgment, the speculation, the jealousy. It was a lot easier for some guys to believe that nepotism, favors and ass-kissing had played into Mitch’s swift rise through the ranks than to accept the fact that he was simply one of the best.
“What are the orders?” Mitch asked calmly. No point engaging an idiot. Besides, he knew his demeanor only irritated guys like Tilden.
He knew he was right when the older man’s smile dipped into a brief sneer before he got control of his face again.
“Take the visitor on a tour, outline the BUD/S training and give a few glowing details of how hard you SEALs keep working to stay fit.” Tilden’s wink made him look like a leering hippo rather than a happy one. He patted a folder on his desk. “We won’t share our current training program, of course. I’ve pulled together a basic dossier of authorized responses as they relate to the subject matter and of details of the previous program that you’re authorized to share.”
He paused before adding, “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of the importance of confidentiality in this matter.”
Seriously? Since when was fitness fraught with secrecy?
Mitch wasn’t about to ask. Especially considering he’d probably surpassed the captain’s security clearance about five years back. Mitch had served countless missions, completed a myriad of assignments in his decade in the military. But he couldn’t remember one like this. Maybe it was connections—it’d be naive to think nepotism had never touched his career. Or maybe it was having served under intelligent leaders who recognized the correct use of the tools under their command. Whatever it was, it was sure missing right now.
“Your liaison is waiting in the visitor’s center.”
Accepting the dismissal and the dossier, Mitch got to his feet.
“The objective is in the file? The contact’s company profile?” Mitch couldn’t hold back his scowl when Tilden shook his head. “A name?”
“Sorry, Donovan. This didn’t come through regular channels, so I have limited specifics. But hey, you’re a SEAL. I’m sure you can handle a fluff assignment like this.”
It only took three seconds before Mitch’s hard stare wiped the smirk off the Captain’s face. The older man got to his feet, his fingers tapping his desk next to his phone.
“Anything else, sir?” Mitch asked, his tone low and deadly. More because he wanted to amuse himself than because he was irritated. It was pointless to waste energy on guys like Tilden.
“Dismissed.”
Mitch executed a neat about-face and marched out the door. He didn’t slow down or relax his posture until he was halfway to the visitor’s center. He gave a quick glance at the dossier with its dearth of information and frowned. There wasn’t even a reporting officer listed.
Sloppy work. Mitch glanced back toward Tilden’s office and shook his head. At least he didn’t have to go into battle with the guy.
Mitch folded the file and stuffed it into his back pocket, then pulled open the door to the visitor’s center.
Looked like he’d be doing some recon along with PR.
He stepped into the visitor’s center and was hit with that scent again.
The ocean at midnight.
Mitch’s mouth watered.
His body went rock-hard.
Livi.
6
IT WASN’T HARD to find her.
Besides the civilian manning the desk, she was the only person there. Even if the room had been packed with people, he’d have seen her. She was impossible to miss.
Once in battle, Mitch had taken a blow that’d sent him over the edge of a cliff. He had the same dizzy, mind-bending feeling then as he did right now.
Livi.
Her hair was loose today, flowing in blonde waves across her forehead, over her shoulders to the tips of her breasts. She wore a little red suit, but she’d have glowed just as brightly in burlap.
“Mitch.” With a wide smile, she unfolded herself from the chair, those mile-long legs uncrossing as she straightened and stepped forward. “Hello.”
Mitch’s mouth went dry.
From the toes of her shiny black shoes, which were straight out of his most embarrassing dreams, to the flash of red in her earlobes, she screamed class. He ran his gaze up, then down again, taking in the skirt that showed enough leg to cause a traffic accident. Up to her fitted jacket, snug at the waist and edged in black. Sexy class.
Livi dressed in spandex and sponge cake had been adorable. The kind of woman he could laugh with before sliding into playfully delicious sex.
Livi of the rock-hard body he’d watched on video had been impressive. The kind of woman who’d challenge him to prove his manhood in very erotic ways, all of which would have required them to be naked.
But this Livi?
This Livi was confidently sexy. She looked like a woman he could take home to meet his family. Even more, she looked like the kind of woman his mother was always bringing home to meet him. Like one who’d help his career. Who’d mingle with the brass, hold her own
with their wives and charm everyone she met.
That shouldn’t have turned him on.
But somehow it did.
Or maybe it was the shoes again.
“Are you here to see me?” he asked, taking her hand in his and slowly pulling her closer. Not close enough to give the civilian manning the desk anything to talk about. But close enough for Mitch to breathe in her scent. To feel her warmth and see the delight in her eyes as they widened at his move.
“I am indeed here to see you, Commander Donovan,” she said, her smile widening. “And congratulations.”
“Are you congratulating me on your visit?” he teased, his fingers sliding over her slender wrist. He could feel her pulse racing at a gratifying pace. But there was no anxiety in her eyes, no worry in her smile. Which left excitement.
“I’m congratulating you on your promotion,” she said with a laugh. “But if you’d like, you can consider my visit a part of that congratulations.”
“I think I might.” Reluctantly, he released her hand, sliding his fingers along her wrist and over her palm, skimming her fingers as her hand slid away.
And grinned when her breath hitched a little.
“I’m also here to get your input into the new fitness program I’m developing,” she said in a husky tone.
Yeah. He’d figured that.
“Why don’t we go somewhere where we can talk.” He slanted a glance at the now-staring clerk. “Privately.”
“Do you have a storage room handy?” she asked, her words low enough that only he heard them.
He also felt them with the same intensity as he would have if she’d run her tongue down his body.
Seeing the heat in her big brown eyes, the sensual curiosity in their depths, he changed his mind. Her words were a turn-on, but he was sure her tongue was pure magic.