by Tawny Weber
Had his CSAR slipup become public knowledge? Was a minor distraction enough to merit the kind of hostility being directed toward him?
When he walked into Goodman’s office, though, the reason for the summons, at least, became clear. Anger replaced confusion in Mitch’s gut as he stood at attention.
“Donovan,” the captain greeted. “You know Captain Tilden?”
Sure, he remembered the Public Affairs asshole who’d gleefully handed him the fluff SEAL-workout assignment.
Mitch nodded, barely giving Tilden a glance.
“The captain has instructed me that your team will be taking part in a promotional venture that will benefit the Navy and highlight the SEALs,” Goodman said, his tone as neutral as the beige walls behind him. “Your team will participate in the filming of a fitness video featuring the SEAL workout.”
Shock rocked through his system so hard it left a ringing in his ears and a vicious gnawing in his gut.
“This is good publicity. It’ll bring in recruits, enhance the image of the SEALs’ manliness and make the Navy look good,” Tilden said in that aww-shucks voice. “You boys will get to be movie stars. Or video stars, at least. Can’t say that happens every day.”
Neither did breaking a superior officer into a dozen tiny pieces and pulverizing them to dust. Mitch ground his teeth together to bite back his initial response. Once he was sure he had a handle on it, he looked at Goodman.
“Permission to speak freely, sir?”
Goodman leaned back in his chair, slanted a look of dislike toward Tilden and nodded.
“Go ahead.”
“With all due respect to the Captain’s concerns about our public image, the SEALs don’t need a promotional campaign, nor do we need publicity. Elements of our training, such as BUD/S, have been documented before. Unlike programs such as that, this...” What did he call it? Ridiculous idea? Idiotic proposal? Clusterfuck from hell? “This is a commercial venture that would be profiting from the SEALs. Our involvement would provide tacit approval of whatever the final project became, over which we’d have no control. I strongly advise against it.”
“But I’m not asking for advice,” Tilden said, his good ol’ boy facade falling away. His beady eyes glittered with dislike. “I’m ordering you to report for filming Monday morning at oh-seven-hundred with a fully briefed eight-man team.”
Tilden paused for a moment before leaning forward in his seat with a toothy smile and adding, “Tell them to smile pretty for the cameras.”
Mitch eyed the jackass in front of him.
He’d never hated a superior officer before. He wasn’t even sure he’d actually hated another person before.
He did now.
“The orders come from Rear Admiral Morse,” Goodman said quietly. “I’ve confirmed it.”
Mitch’s jaw clenched. But not nearly as tightly as his gut.
“Permission to be excused.”
“Well, now—” His fat hand on a thick file, Tilden obviously wanted to keep playing.
“Permission granted,” Goodman interrupted, pulling the file out and handing it to Mitch with a nod.
He felt a vicious sense of satisfaction turning his back on Tilden before the man could say another word.
The file fisted against his side, Mitch refused to look at it until he was clear of the building and halfway across the base. Not because he was worried about turning around and beating Tilden’s tiny pinhead against the wall.
But because he knew what was inside. He was sure he knew who had instigated this humiliating little jaunt. He’d kissed her goodbye not more than four hours ago.
Focus, he reminded himself when his anger intensified. Contain and diffuse first.
With that in mind, he was determined to handle the situation before any of the SEAL teams returned from maneuvers that afternoon. He hadn’t counted on the support crew, the bevy of non-SEAL personnel who served with the team.
He was hit with a dozen furious faces when he stepped into the team headquarters.
“What’s the deal, Donovan?”
“Rumor says you got your girlfriend a sweet job using the SEALs.”
“Must be nice, using connections for everything,” someone else muttered from the back of the crowd.
Fury was a new feeling for Mitch. He was a man used to respect. He had spent his life courting it, counting on it.
He’d never faced a lack of it, and for a brief moment, he wasn’t sure how to react. Beating the hell out of the men seemed a little extreme. So he did the only thing he could do. He listened to them with the same respect he expected in return.
Mitch waited, but the complaints didn’t wind down. So he stopped them by simply raising his hand.
“The video is happening. A crew will be here filming Monday,” he told them. “Orders for this project are coming from the Public Affairs office. I’ve already requested a meeting with the base commander, and for someone from JAG to prohibit any on-camera involvement of the SEALs,” he said quietly. And then, because there was nothing left to add that would change the men’s opinion of him, Mitch did an about-face and walked out.
It took three hours before he felt confident that he’d diffused the situation to his and the team’s satisfaction.
What he hadn’t—couldn’t—change was the fact that there would be a fitness video based on the Navy SEAL workout filmed here, at the Navy SEAL training center, and that he’d been pulled from the covert-ops program to oversee it.
Or that the woman he’d been thinking he loved enough to reconsider his career path had screwed over that very career.
It took two phone calls and the promise of an as-yet-unnamed favor for Mitch to track Livi down.
Checking the address against his note, he confirmed that the cement building was the one he was looking for. It wasn’t until he reached the entrance that he saw the simple sign stamped in block letters over the doors.
Stripped Down Fitness.
Did she run her business out of here?
Curiosity running a dim second to anger, Mitch shoved open the doors and marched inside. And stopped short.
It was a gym.
But not the kind he’d have expected to find Livi in.
He’d watched her videos. Not just the stripper ones, although those had been worth a second and third viewing. But her various other videos, as well. The settings in them were all sleek, clean—simple lines and bright colors. It all coordinated, right down to the clothes the people exercising with her wore.
But this place... Well, he supposed it color-coordinated.
The cement walls were the same steel gray as the outside, cracks showing here and there behind the mirrored expanse. There were black padded mats beneath all of the equipment and in the various workout areas, but the paths between were again cement.
The machines were top-of-the-line, many of them the same as were in the Navy’s gym. The weights were metal, not a Popsicle-hued one in sight. Bright lighting and the buzz of conversation finished the mise-en-scène of a serious gym for serious workouts.
For a fitness diva, Livi sure didn’t seem to understand the idea of posh and plush. Which was probably the point, he realized. This place was stripped of all but the necessities. It had one purpose and one purpose only.
Fitness.
Just like her videos.
Mitch’s jaw worked as irritation surged again at the reminder of why he was here.
And just where was The Body Babe?
His eyes found her immediately halfway across the crowded gym.
Dressed in bright red shorts, a black-and-red exercise bra and tennis shoes, she stood by one of the workout benches.
At first he thought she was coaching the mountain of a bodybuilder as she gestured to the barbell.
Then
she stepped up to the black metal rod, her shoulders loose, her eyes focused. She huffed out a breath, wrapped her hands around the bar and lifted.
Mitch’s brow arched.
He was in excellent condition.
That wasn’t ego, it was simple fact.
But, damn... Olivia Kane’s body was even tighter than his.
His abs were cut. But Livi’s six-pack was rock solid.
His body was a weapon. Hers was an homage to fitness.
But her homage was screwing with the comfort of his weapon. And that couldn’t be tolerated.
Mitch strode over and waited, arms crossed over his chest while she curled the barbell. Despite his irritation, he couldn’t help but be impressed. Her form was perfect, from the slight bend in her knees to the angle of her shoulders. Chin high, her focus was anchored somewhere in front of her as she breathed with her lifts.
Her body glistened.
It wasn’t until she put the barbell back on its stand that he saw her grimace. She pressed one hand to her stomach and closed her eyes for a second.
“You okay, Liv?” the bodybuilder asked gruffly.
“Just a little light-headed, Bo,” she said. “I probably didn’t eat enough protein with lunch.”
“You were feeling bad yesterday, too,” Mitch interrupted without thinking. “Maybe you should see a doctor.”
Two sets of eyes turned his way. The bodybuilder’s filled with suspicion, Livi’s with delight. Despite her welcoming smile, she was pale. Despite her glistening muscles, she looked fragile.
And despite his bone-deep anger, he wanted to pull her into his arms and protect her.
But he wished like hell he didn’t.
“Can we talk?”
* * *
USUALLY SHE WAS thrilled to see Mitch. But given that he looked as if he could bite the bumper-plate weight off her barbell and spit it out as bullets, Livi didn’t need to hear ominous words to clue in that something was wrong.
Pulse jumping, her stomach pitched into her toes, and somewhere between the two, her already queasy stomach threatened to revolt.
“Sure,” she said with her brightest show-no-fear smile. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
She hadn’t even known he had a clue where her business was. But then, he was Super SEAL, so she shouldn’t have been surprised he’d found it.
“Seems as if everyone is getting something unexpected today, aren’t they?” he observed coolly.
“I’m sorry?” Her smile dimmed.
“We need to talk,” he said again. Glancing around, he added, “Privately.”
“Fine.” Her smile gone now, she gave him a searching look. “My office is right over there.”
“Aren’t you the businesswoman,” he observed, tilting his head to indicate that she lead the way.
Bo, obviously not liking Mitch’s tone, gave a low growl.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, giving Bo a reassuring smile. The big man’s scowl didn’t change, but he finally nodded and stepped aside.
Mitch didn’t say a word. He didn’t even seem to care that a three-time IWF champion was poised to use him to do an overhead press. Then again, Mitch was almost superhuman. He had no reason to care about something like that.
What was he worried about, though? Livi snagged a clean towel off the linen shelf on her way across the gym, dabbing at the beads of sweat on her chest.
As soon as they reached her office, she turned to tell Mitch that she did, indeed, have a doctor’s appointment the next morning. But before she could say a word, he slapped the door shut and assumed a combative stance. Legs wide, arms crossed over his chest.
Livi took a step back, her butt hitting the desk and almost knocking her off her feet.
“What’s going on?” she asked with a frown. Everything had been wonderful the previous night. No matter how much she’d warned herself to live in the moment and not buy into happy-ever-after, she was starting to believe in happy for a really long time with Mitch.
At least, she had been starting to believe.
“Were you involved in the Navy SEAL video deal that would have you filming a workout program on my base, with my men, using my fitness program?”
“I tried to mention that last night, but you said you didn’t want to discuss business,” Livi reminded him, starting to get irritated.
Before Livi could ask why it was an issue, Mitch strode forward until he was chest to chest with her. Which wasn’t nearly as sexy as it had always been in the past.
“You admit that you knew about the video.”
“Obviously.” Livi gave him a baffled look. Why was he acting so obnoxious? “So did you. If you recall, you’re the one who walked me through your gym, gave me a copy of an official—if obsolete—SEAL workout and listened to my ideas for the video I’d be filming.”
“But that’s not how the deal ended up, is it?”
Bristling at the sarcasm in his voice, Livi lifted her hands in askance.
“I know my mother discussed expanding the video to have a much more SEAL-focused presentation, but I preferred to stay with the original format,” Livi said carefully.
Had Pauline not cancelled filming? The only contact Livi had had with her since the vomiting incident was a text stating she’d instructed their attorney to adjust the contract as per Livi’s orders and would advise accordingly.
She opened her mouth to tell Mitch the whole story.
“Your manager is actually your mother?” he said before she got her first word out.
Why did he keep interrupting her?
“So?” Frustrated, Livi pulled the hairband out so she could shove her fingers through her loosened hair to try and relieve some of the building tension.
“This would be the same mother who was abandoned by your father in his attempt to become a SEAL. The same mother who hates all military men and of whom you said would have a fit if she knew about us.”
Why was he picking on her mother? Irritation overtaking confusion, anger starting to drown out hurt, Livi shifted to her full height and met his hard look with one of her own.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she admitted. “I’m not denying my parental issues. But I don’t see why you have a problem with them.”
“The problem is that one way or another, you, your mother or both went behind my back and used the information you gleaned from spending time with me to manipulate your way into a deal with the Navy to make a fitness video!”
If he’d punched her in the belly, Livi couldn’t have been more hurt. Trying to breathe through the shocking pain of his words, she could only shake her head.
“You believe that of me? That I would lie to you, manipulate our relationship, use you for my own profit?”
Mitch didn’t say a word. But his silence spoke volumes.
And Livi heard every decibel.
She gave up standing up to him toe to toe because her knees simply wouldn’t support her. Instead, she sank onto her desk, holding it with both hands against the wave of dizzy horror. Not just at his words, but at the ugly message beneath them.
“I was told that filming begins next Monday. Filming with your company.” He waited a beat. “Tell me, are you bringing strippers for backup or are you going to ask the SEAL team to bump and grind?”
Livi waited for the room to stop spinning and took a deep breath. Then another.
But none of that changed what she was hearing.
Still, hoping she was wrong, she clarified, “Are you angry because of the workout video itself? Or are you angry because the workout video is with me, in particular?”
Despite the buzzing in her ears, she forced herself to focus on Mitch’s face. Looking into his eyes—the eyes she’d fallen in love with—she didn’t need to
hear his answer. Because it was right there.
“Do you have any idea the damage you’ve caused with this?” he sidestepped. “How this association has lost me the respect of half the support staff, and most likely my own SEAL team.”
Right. Respect.
Promising herself she could fall into a puddle of misery as soon as this was over, Livi pulled herself together, stood on her feet and faced her heartbreak head-on.
“The issue isn’t so much that you feel I manipulated you by luring you into my bed in order to connive the US Navy into boosting my career. The issue is that you’re a snob.”
“The hell I am.”
“The problem isn’t that you didn’t know about the video, because we both know that you did,” she continued hoarsely. Livi cleared her throat, refusing to give in to the pain. “But because somehow, an association with me is humiliating to your reputation. You’re being razzed by your buddies, judged by your peers. Suddenly everything else you’ve done doesn’t matter because this one single thing puts an ugly spotlight on you. And you don’t like it.”
“Would you?”
“No, actually I don’t like it at all. It’s always been the crux of my issue with performing in public. But I had no idea how much worse it would be when it came from someone I—” She broke off and took a breath before finishing. “By someone I cared about. Someone who should know better.”
Despite her best intentions, Livi’s eyes welled up and her lower lip trembled. She bit into it.
“Don’t cry,” he ordered.
“Oh, don’t worry,” she told him after taking a very worrisome, shaky breath. “I’m not about to put you in the position of having to overcome your distaste for my feelings.”
“That’s not what I’d said, nor what I’d meant.” Mitch scowled. “You’re twisting my words.”
“And you twisted actions I didn’t make into an attack on your career.”
His scowl deepened, but he didn’t bother denying it.
“You’ve told me to stop putting other people’s wants ahead of my own feelings. Well, I’m taking your advice.” She swallowed hard, hurting like she’d never imagined she could. Then she pointed to the door. “I want you to leave. I won’t discuss this right now, and I don’t want to hear anything else you have to say.”