SEAL'D In Deep

by Jolie Day

  “Can we talk?” he whispered.

  Liz nodded and took a long sip of her beer, before following him toward a back hallway. As they walked, several drunken men approached her or leered, shouting out obscenities and making gestures that she pretended she didn’t see. Each one of them stopped the second that they met the intensity of Carter’s gaze over her head. Even as drunk as they were, they weren’t stupid enough to mess with a lady that was obviously taken.

  Even if she technically wasn’t.

  Carter paused between the back exit and the unisex bathroom, which had an ‘Out of Order’ sign hanging on the door. It was the only bathroom there and Carter didn’t think he’d ever been to this bar when it was actually working properly. It was just another one of those things.

  “What are you doing here, for real?” he asked. “Did you want to take more photos? Didn’t we agree that I would have the day off for—”

  “Your meeting?” Liz finished for him. “Yeah, I see how well that’s going for you. Is this what you do every Wednesday? Go get drunk with all your Navy buddies?”

  “Let’s not talk about this right now, alright?” He stood above her, firm, nonthreatening, but his presence sent a shudder down her spine. Her throat was dry. She felt like she was back in that trench coat, with her soaked panties underneath, betraying how turned on she was.

  She was certain he could feel the heat coming from between her legs right now, could sense the hair standing up on the back of her neck, the passion reflected in her own eyes. Could he hear how hard her heart was pounding right now? Could he feel it with how close they suddenly seemed to be?

  The answer to that last question was a resounding yes as Carter’s lips suddenly fell down over hers. The answer to all questions was yes—now and forever—so long as he kept touching her like he was, his hands cupping her ass as he tugged her toward the vacated bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind them.

  She had no idea how their anger at each other had turned into this, but Liz wasn’t complaining as he undid the clasp of her capris and buried his fingers deep inside her. She just clutched his shoulders in her hands as she held on for the ride.

  And oh what a ride it was.

  Chapter Five

  I can’t make that mistake again, Liz thought to herself as she hobbled out of the bar, leaving Carter with his friends. She could still taste him on her lips, could still feel his hand between her legs, his mouth on her neck…but that couldn’t happen again.

  It had only been a few days since they signed their contract—their very professional, legally-binding, work contract—and she’d promised herself that there would be no sex until after she’d finished the series she was working on.

  Well, technically, it’s not sex, she tried to reason. He hadn’t actually taken off his pants, or even lowered them. She had just reached in and…

  Liz shook her head as thoughts of what had just transpired fluttered through her mind, making her entire body go flush with an almost unbearable heat. She bit her lip and swallowed thickly, surreptitiously rubbing her thighs together as she walked down the road, her camera bag on her hip. She still had a few hours left of work, but she was feeling a bit awkward, considering what just happened…

  And the fact that Carter had stripped her of her underwear and placed them in the back pocket of his jeans, winking at her, before seeing her to the door. Nobody had whistled or made crude comments that time, despite the fact that nearly all of them must have known what just transpired, but she felt as if every eye was on her.

  She’d nodded goodbye to Carter’s friends as she made her way to the door and they’d raised their drinks at her, respectfully. She wondered, now, if they were ribbing him or if he was telling them all about their little exploit in the out-of-order bathroom.

  She had no idea if this excited her or filled her with dread.

  By the time she got uptown, Liz decided that it wouldn’t happen again—no matter how much she wanted Carter McIntyre to take her again and again. She could hold off for a few more days (possibly weeks) until she finished her Navy SEAL series, just to make sure it didn’t complicate matters... and then, maybe, they’d do it again.

  No, Liz thought to herself as she felt the bare skin between her legs. We are definitely doing that again. More than once.

  But not until the contract was over. She couldn’t afford to let the potential of this project suffer simply because she couldn’t control herself. On this, she would stay firm.

  Or so she tried to be.

  *****

  “She’s cute.”

  “Who is?”

  Rusty made a noise in the back of his throat and nudged his friend’s shoulder, laughing. “You know exactly who I’m talking about.” He lifted his glass to clink against Carter’s. “You don’t find many girls like that out in the desert. Good job.”

  “Thanks, I guess,” Carter replied, gruffly.

  “Seriously, man,” Rusty said. “I’m real happy for you. I knew you’d settle down event—”

  “It’s not like that, Rus,” Carter said, still not meeting his friend’s eyes. “We just work together.”

  “You call what you just did in the bathroom work?” Rusty snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Seriously, man. There’s nothing going on between us. Nothing serious, anyway.” He took a long sip of his drink, avoiding Rusty’s gaze.

  “Well that’s a damn shame,” Rusty huffed. “Because that lady is something else, ya know? She looks like she’d be a good influence on you.”

  “You spoke to her for less than a minute.”

  “I knew my wife less than a minute before I knew I was gonna marry her,” he pointed out. “I’m a good judge on these things, don’t you think?”

  “Nah,” Carter said. “You just got lucky.” He grinned sideways at his friend.

  “Yeah,” Rusty said, nudging him again. “I really did, didn’t I?” They clinked glasses and Carter nodded in agreement.

  Rusty had been married for as long as Carter had known him. He’d been a father for just as long and Carter could never imagine him any differently. As big and gruff and unstoppable as he seemed, his family was his biggest weakness. If anything ever happened to them…

  Well, Carter could see that being the older man’s downfall and he’d decided long ago that he was never going to put himself through that. Why would he? He had his buddies in the Navy and his…associates in the Hell’s Seven. He didn’t need a wife and kids holding him back, too.

  Still, Rusty’s words stuck with him long after he left the pub, echoing in his mind as he drove his motorcycle through the busy streets of Los Angeles, weaving between taxis and limos and gaining the attention of more than one group of colorfully-dressed tourists. He waved to one group taking pictures as he parked his bike outside the old rusted doors of a local garage, removing his helmet and running his hand through his hair. He heard a whistle and preened a bit when he caught the eye of a young blonde with blue eyes. When her muscled boyfriend blocked his view, Carter just shrugged one shoulder and reached into his saddlebag for his leather coat, slipping it on as he made his way toward the door.

  He knocked three times, paused, then twice more.

  The door swung open and the big beefy man inside gave Carter a once over before stepping aside and allowing him to enter. Carter hesitated for one more moment as more of his friend’s words echoed in his mind. He glanced at the tattooed and bearded man before him, with a leather vest and the trademark patch over his left breast. He lifted one brow impatiently at Carter and the younger man nodded resolutely, stepping inside.

  The door closed behind him.

  *****

  “Are you paying attention?” Liz snapped. Carter blinked, turning to her with heavily bagged eyes. “This is the third time I’ve said your name. What’s wrong?” There was a hint of concern in her voice, even though her brows were knitted in annoyance.

  Carter couldn’t help but think about how sexy she looked when she was
trying to act angry. Trying and failing, that was. He took a deep breath and shook his head.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he said, probably for the hundredth time that day. He shifted his stance. “Just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?” Liz asked. “We could take a break if you want. It’s almost…eleven.” She sighed. They had three hours left until lunch. “Maybe you could grab a cup of coffee.”

  They were in a park and Carter was leaning against a tree, a book in his hand and his reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He didn’t like to wear them because he so rarely read for long periods of time—novels weren’t exactly a necessity out in the desert—but Liz had told him to bring props that would make him look…thoughtful.

  “I thought this was supposed to be a more genuine look at a SEAL on leave,” Carter had retorted. “Why do I need props to look like me?”

  “Half of photography is framing,” Liz had told him. “And, like, a hundred percent of modeling is posing. I’m framing; you’re posing. Is that okay?”

  “You got it,” Carter had huffed, too tired to argue after spending most of the night on his bike. He hadn’t had to search for too long for the glasses. Most of his things were still in boxes and there weren’t even that many of them. The apartment was more or less empty, save for the furniture that was already there when he moved in. He didn’t yet know how long he was planning to stay.

  Maybe it depended on when he was cleared for duty.

  “Carter?”

  Or maybe it depended on a few other things.

  He blinked at her again and sighed at the perturbed look on her face.

  “Coffee,” he said. “Yeah. That sounds good, actually.” He’d gotten to sleep just past sunrise and hadn’t even been out for two hours before he got the call from Liz, who had been far too chipper for his liking. She’d obviously just gotten back from her game with that old man down the hall, which always seemed to give her an extra spring in her step.

  It was both irritating and…well, somewhat attractive. Her smile was like sunshine when he met her in the lobby, her hair still damp from a shower. She had her camera around her neck, and a tote bag on her arm. She had on a dress that fit all her curves and looked soft to the touch. Carter itched to feel the material over her warm skin, to pull her to him and press his lips to hers. He could imagine bringing her back upstairs and spending the morning in bed together, where she would photograph his naked body covered only by sheets.

  He was certain that Liz wouldn’t even object to the idea. Especially after what had happened yesterday.

  Before he could even make the suggestion, however, she had taken his hand and started tugging him toward the door, talking a million miles a second about the park nearby with the perfect tree for him to stand under, with just the right amount of lighting and a pleasing pattern on the trunk and that was the first time he tuned out.

  Not that he wanted to. In all honesty, Carter could have listened to Liz Morgan talk for hours. She was so excited a chipper and sunny and, usually, that would have been something that irritated the life out of Carter, but with her…

  Today was just not the day. His mind was in the clouds, still counting sheep even as he struggled to stay on his feet and not drag them like Liz was dragging him. She continued to talk and he could hear her voice but his eyes were already starting to close again, falling asleep as he walked. By the time Liz called for his attention for the first time, they were standing on a path through a woodsy park, being passed by joggers and moms pushing strollers with toddlers on their heels.

  So, yeah, coffee was good.

  There was a cart near enough that it took barely a minute for him to get a hot cup of black in his hands, already waking him up with the steam coming out. He took a long sip as he collapsed onto a bench next to Liz and listened to her laugh at him, good-naturedly. She didn’t comment, though, as she took a sip of her own latte, sighing deeply as she took in the sights around her.

  They were quiet for a long moment as Carter waited for the caffeine to kick in, watching people go by as the cup warmed his hands. Los Angeles was never very cold, but even the hot climate gave way to slightly windy days under seventy degrees. Carter spotted a few people actually wearing coats and he snorted, shaking his head.

  “What’s funny?” Liz asked, turning to him with a smile that was too wide, too cute, too innocent.

  “Nothing,” Carter replied, taking another sip as he looked down at his lap. “Just thinking.”

  “Okay.”

  Oh. That was a surprise. He’d expected her to ask questions. To pry every bit of information out of him that she could get. He was used to that from the women he’d been with. A fair share of his relationships had ended because they had wanted more than he was willing to give.

  With Liz, however, she didn’t ask for more but sometimes he found himself wishing that she would. He had stories that he actually wanted to tell her. This was different for him. Strange.

  He took another sip and tamped down the urge to tell her about the ice-cold nights in the middle of the dessert, when they would sleep fully dressed, with several blankets wrapped around their bodies and still shivered. And then Carter sat there and watched people wear jackets in near-tropical heat. He wanted to laugh at that and he was almost certain that Liz would laugh, as well.

  But it wasn’t like him to share.

  So he didn’t.

  *****

  There was something he wasn’t telling her; Liz could feel it.

  She’d always been like that, ever since she was a little girl. Her father had always said that she was meant to be a photographer because of that. Because she could see the nuances in expressions, could choose the perfect moment to take a photograph, to capture an emotion in a bottle—or, in this case, a photograph.

  And, as tired as Carter had been earlier that day, and as quiet and unresponsive as he’d been, there was also a hint of something that Liz hadn’t been able to ignore. Not knowing him as well as she would have liked to (and, god, she wanted to know him much better than she currently did), she couldn’t tell if what she could see in the lines and slight scars of his face was some hint of sadness or anger or…well, an emotion that was either a combination of the two or something else, altogether. This was one of the few times that she couldn’t name it. There was no way she was going to ask him about it, either.

  Carter was as private a person as she’d ever known and she had the distinct notion that he wouldn’t even tell her his favorite color if she asked. But maybe that could be a start? They’d known each other for a couple of weeks now, after all.

  “What’s your favorite color?” Liz murmured to herself as she kicked off her shoes and placed her camera down on her kitchen counter. “What’s your favorite animal?” she grunted as she reached up into her cabinet for a box of macaroni and padded to her fridge for a half-empty jar of pasta sauce. “What’s your favorite kind of food?” she said to herself as she set a pot of water to boil on the stove and then poured the remains of the sauce into a bowl and popped it into the microwave. “What’s your middle name?” she whispered under her breath, then shook her head. “Too personal,” she decided, tapping her index finger on her chin. “What’s your favorite book?” she decided instead, spotting her bookshelf. She smiled, victoriously as her eyes scanned the many cracked spines.

  The smile fell as a she spotted the black and white photograph of her entire family at her eldest brother’s graduation. She walked closer to it, her eyes narrowing as if taking it for the first time again. Her brothers’ smiles, which mirrored her father’s almost perfectly, were wide and handsome and somewhat mischievous. Her father had her on his hip, despite the fact that she was nearly thirteen and far too old to be held. His opposite arm pulled her mother in, her lips spread wide and her eyes shining with happiness.

  Even in grayscale, Liz could still remember the exact shade of blue that sparkled in the sun like the ocean, a small g
ray ring around the irises and specks of green near her mother’s pupils. Her mother had always been a happy woman, if somewhat nervous. She was almost never without a smile.

  Unless one of her sons had decided to give her a fright.

  In the photograph, however, she’s happy, pressed against her husband’s chest with her arms around all of her boys, all looking proud of their eldest sibling. It was probably the last picture her father had taken of them all together. Because, after that summer, one of them was out of the house and everybody else was starting to do their own thing.

  Liz had continued to take photographs with her father while her older brothers got their own jobs and started planning for their future.

  And then Brent joined up and got killed.

  Nothing was the same after that. Oh, she still saw her parents and her brothers, but the mood was different. There was always a gaping hole at the dining table that their mother didn’t even attempt to hide. She still set Brent’s place at dinner until her last breath.

  Liz missed them all.

  When the microwave beeped, she snapped out of her thoughts and walked back into the kitchen, pouring some pasta into the boiling water and grabbing a towel to take the bowl of sauce out, placing it on the table. She sat there for a moment, staring into the red, steaming liquid and thinking.

  With as much as she had shared with Carter, she realized that he hadn’t shared very much with her. She knew that he had gone into the Navy primarily for financial reasons and because a great deal of his family had been involved in the service, but she knew nothing else about his parents or grandparents or the rest of his family in general.

  Did he have brothers or sisters? Were his grandparents around? Was his mother alive? How many nieces and nephews did he have? Had he ever even met a child? Did he want children?