Sexy SEAL Box Set: A SEAL's SeductionA SEAL's SurrenderA SEAL's SalvationA SEAL's Kiss

by Tawny Weber

  Michael. The one person who loved Alexia. Who accepted and celebrated her. Who she’d be cut off from until he was eighteen, if their father had any say in it.

  Yep. The admiral was a scary man.

  “Don’t stress about it,” Michael said quietly, clearly tracking her trip down memory lane. “Mom’s thrilled you’re back and Dad will come around eventually. They might not like what you’re talking about, but the prestige of seeing you on TV, hearing you’re at the big fancy billionaire parties like any good socialite will bring them around.”

  “Sure, as long as they ignore the part about me publicly talking sex.” Alexia sighed. As much as she wanted to be tough and emotionless when it came to their parents, a part of her still craved—with the desperation of a small child—that approval. But she couldn’t—wouldn’t—change who she was to get it.

  “You could almost feel sorry for them.” Michael laughed. “We’re not exactly their idea of poster children, huh? To make it easier on them, when I go to Sunday brunch, I pretend to be straight. Not an easy thing for the headliner of Sassy’s Fancy, an all-male revue. Last month I mentioned my photo shoot for Calvin Klein and you’d have thought I tried to jump the waiter, the way Dad choked and Mom sputtered.”

  “Maybe they’ll focus more on the fact that this research project will potentially help abuse victims overcome their fears than the sex part of things,” Alexia mused. When her brother looked at her as if she’d jumped right over naive into delusional, she wrinkled her nose.

  “So enough about how proud we make the parents,” Michael said with a dismissive wave to both the topic and the low-level guilt Alexia was starting to feel. “What’s the real deal with you and Dr. Darling?”

  “Edward’s last name is Darshwin,” she corrected for the zillionth time, following his lead and sitting up to reach for the sunscreen. Unlike many redheads, Alexia didn’t have a problem tanning. She did, however, turn into one giant freckle after too much sunshine. “And I don’t know what the deal is, really. He’s a sweetie. Smart, cute and really big on communication. A guy who likes to talk feelings. What’s better than that?”

  “A guy who makes you feel things worth talking about,” Michael ventured quietly.

  Yeah. She sighed. That.

  “When did you get so smart?” Alexia slanted him a look. Spread out on a bright turquoise beach towel, he looked too pretty, and honestly too vain, to offer up such deep thoughts. Sleek and toned, he was a man who made his living by looking good.

  “Babe, just because I’m not a superbrainiac like you doesn’t mean I’m not a pretty sharp cookie.”

  Wasn’t that the truth.

  Joy, as warm as a big squishy hug, filled her. Alexia could have turned down the job offer that’d brought her back to San Diego. But between her dream job and a chance to live close to her brother again, she hadn’t been able to resist. They’d grown up as military brats, and the only steady thing in their lives had been each other. And while she didn’t look for a lot of steadiness these days, she needed love. Needed to feel important. Special. If only to one person—and even if that person was her brother.

  As if taunting her with Michael’s words, her gaze sought out the gorgeous specimen of manhood again. Now, that was a guy who’d make a girl feel things worth talking about. She let the sight of his body, cutting strong and sure through the ocean waves, soothe her. Relax away the tension and worries.

  Then he stepped out of the water.

  And a whole new kind of tension seeped into her body.

  At the same time, all thoughts, and most of her brain function, vanished. Every cell of her being was focused, like a laser, on his body.

  His gorgeous body.

  Sleek muscles, from the top of his sexy head to his well-shaped feet. The man was a work of art. Not in the bodybuilder-obsessed way, but pure streamlined power.

  Him, she was sexually attracted to. Him, she could easily see herself begging for.

  “You know, I might have questioned your judgment and hairstyle over the years,” Michael said quietly. “But I’ve never faulted your eyesight. That is one fine-looking man.”

  “He’s okay,” she downplayed as if her body wasn’t melting just looking at him.

  “Okay? Just okay?” Michael’s voice rose in indignation, as if she’d just insulted gorgeous men everywhere. “What’d New York do to you? You say you’re not in a relationship, but your butt’s still planted on this towel. Why aren’t you going for it?”

  “Because, as you pointed out, I’m in a relationship.”

  “Considering a relationship.”

  “Which means I should finish considering before I do anything crazy,” she retorted. “Like hit on some stranger just because he’s gorgeous.”

  “Gorgeous is the best reason to hit,” Michael mused. Then he gave her an arch look. “Of course, he might not be your type.”

  “I don’t think he’s yours,” she said with a laugh, eyeing the sexy swimmer. A man who exuded that much sexual energy, who made her wonder how many hours it’d take to try her top ten favorite Kama Sutra positions, gay? That’d be a crime against women everywhere.

  “Let’s find out, shall we?” Michael suggested as the man walked toward them, either because his stuff was up the beach past where they sat or maybe in response to intense do-me signals Alexia was mentally sending.

  “Michael,” she hissed, suddenly wishing she were on a plane back to New York. Or buried in the sand. Either would be better than what she knew was coming. “Don’t you dare.”

  “Did you say dare?” Michael’s grin shifted to one hundred degrees of wicked.

  “Michael.” Jackknifing upright, Alexia made a grab for her brother’s arm. And growled when she missed.

  “Oh, hey, excuse me,” he called as he slid gracefully to his feet. “Do you have a second?”

  Gorgeous slowed, walking toward them. His eyes—yes, just as fabulous as the rest of him—bypassed Michael to lock on to Alexia.

  His gaze was like being bathed in a deliciously sensual bath. The dark blue depths were warm, luxurious and bone-meltingly wonderful.

  Alexia swore she felt the world shift. Or maybe it was just the sand beneath her butt as her brother hurried forward to offer his hand.

  “I’m Michael,” he said, his smile big and bright as he gestured her way. “That’s my sister, Alexia.”

  “Blake,” the man introduced quietly, his voice carrying just a hint of the South.

  “I was wondering if you wanted to join me, us, for a drink?” Michael reached into the cooler and pulled out a bottle of water, offering it. “It’d be a great favor. You can help settle an argument between my sister and I.”

  * * *

  BLAKE GLANCED AT PRETTY BOY, and the proffered water, then at the sexy beach siren lounging at his feet. She looked like a parting gift from summer, as hot as the season itself. All red hair and gold skin, she made his mouth water.

  Any other time, he’d have made a move to join her. But instead of offering healing, solace, the last two weeks had simply hammered home his grief. Made it worse. He’d hung out at Cade’s apartment for a while. Only back a couple of days from a visit home, Cade had been lousy company. Silent, morose and distant, wallowing in the bitch of a mood that always went with dealing with his family. So Blake had escaped to the beach.

  The sun hadn’t helped. Neither had the surf. And he was sure talking to strangers was just as pointless. Just make an excuse and go, he told himself.

  “What argument?” he heard himself asking instead.

  “Alexia thinks a hot date is dinner and a movie,” the guy told him, tilting his bright red sunglasses down his nose to offer a comical eye roll. “Boring, right? Me, I think a club and dancing is the way to go. What’s your take?”

  The bottle of water halfway to his mouth, Blake paused to stare.

  Was the guy hitting on him?

  Tempted to laugh, Blake offered the redhead a baffled look. Her answering smile was like a ray of
sunshine, reaching out to pull him out of a dark hole he hadn’t even realized he’d been hiding in.

  “Both,” Blake said. “Dinner and dancing. I’m traditional that way.”

  “Ah.” The guy’s smile didn’t shift, his attitude didn’t change. But his nod made it clear he’d got the message that he wasn’t Blake’s type. “Then I guess it’s a draw.”

  “You’ll have to excuse Michael,” the redhead said. “He’s a nothing-ventured, nothing-gained kind of guy.”

  “Can’t fault him for that.”

  “You’re sweet,” she decided softly, her smile flashing bright. At first glance, her features weren’t traditionally beautiful. They were too striking, too bold. Eyes almost too large for her face were direct under a slash of dark brows. Her jaw was strong, her lips full with an obvious underbite that spelled all kinds of sexy to Blake’s suddenly wide-awake libido.

  A red-rose tattoo on her shoulder twined down her biceps, twisting and circling. Her body, hot enough to make a man grateful for summer, was stunning. Packaged in a tiny purple swimsuit that hugged and highlighted curves, he suddenly wished like hell he’d met her another time. One when he could lavish on her every bit of attention she deserved.

  Blake was the kind of guy who’d built his career on doing the right thing. Who lived his life by the rules. He not only followed the book, but double-checked it to ensure the rules he was following were exactly as written.

  Anal?

  It worked for him.

  At least, it had.

  The image of Phil flashed through Blake’s mind, the last thing he’d seen from his buddy was his big, cheesy grin just before the shrapnel had pierced his helmet.

  Phil had followed the rules.

  The entire team had, to the letter.

  And they’d still lost their teammate.

  Overwhelmed by the memory, Blake turned to stare toward the ocean, trying to find peace again. The water wasn’t giving any up, though. Of its own volition, his gaze returned to the stunning redhead.

  She didn’t look like the kind who followed rules.

  Maybe that’s what he needed right now.

  His eyes traveled over the smooth golden skin of her bare belly, noting the tiny strings tying her bikini bottoms to her slender hips. His body stirred. Blood pumped. For the first time in two weeks, he felt alive.

  He’d come here to heal, though.

  And as much as losing himself in a body as lush and welcoming as Alexia’s appealed, he knew better. A smart man fighting demons avoided addictive substances. Alcohol, drugs, gambling. Gorgeous, sexy women. Anything that let a man numb himself to the memories.

  Blake’s body screamed a number of ugly epithets at him. Ten years in the navy meant it had a ton to choose from. Still, he’d put his body through worse than denying it a gorgeous woman. He’d get over it.

  “Thanks,” he finally said, splitting his smile between the brother and sister. “But I’ve got to go.”

  Before he could change his mind, he lifted the water bottle in acknowledgment, and strode away. And regretted every step.

  2

  “EDWARD, I’VE THOUGHT about it a lot,” Alexia said, her tone low in an attempt to keep their conversation private from the rest of the diners. After her talk with Michael on the beach that afternoon, she’d realized she had to deal with the issue before she started work the following week. “I value our friendship, it’s really important to me. But I don’t think we should risk it by trying to turn it into more.”

  After uttering those totally uncomfortable words, Alexia held her breath and waited for Edward’s response. Sounds suddenly amplified, forks against plates, the rushing servers’ feet against the tile floor, even the sound of the still-warm tortilla chips sliding into salsa.

  The smile not shifting on his handsome face, Edward blotted his lips with his napkin, then took a sip of his water. Buying time to sort his reaction, Alexia realized with a wince.

  “I’m sure we’ll be fine. Nerves are natural before taking a big step in a relationship. Don’t let it worry you.”

  No. Anticipation was natural. Excitement was. And sure, nerves if they were along the lines of will he like seeing me naked and is he open to kinky positions. But this stomach-churning, feet-twitching-to-run, little-voice-screaming-nooooo feeling? This wasn’t normal.

  What did she have to say to get through? She really didn’t want to hurt him.

  But after her reaction earlier that morning to hot, sexy and gorgeous on the beach, as she still thought of the hottie named Blake, there was no way she could settle for a sexless relationship. Spark, desire, passion, they were too important. It’d been all she could do not to chase the guy down the beach, throw herself at his feet and beg him to let her make up for her brother’s odd behavior by licking her way up his body.

  Heck, she’d stayed so turned on and sexually charged thinking about him, she’d come twice in the shower preparing for this dinner. Clearly her subconscious was sending her a strong message that she and Edward weren’t meant to be a couple.

  But he wasn’t listening to her subconscious. Or her words, for that matter. What did that say about their wavelength? Edward had a habit of believing that if he ignored something he didn’t like, it’d eventually go away. Having tried that often enough, and still having the parents to prove it didn’t work, Alexia could empathize.

  “Sweetie, we have a great time together,” Edward said brightly, dismissing her concerns with a wave of his fork. His blond hair glinted in the colorful piñata-shaped lights and his perfect teeth flashed. “We’re great together. We’re on the same wavelength, totally in tune. Our interests, our goals, our values, they all click. That’s what counts, right?”

  Alexia forced her lips to curve in agreement. Because he was right. They were in tune and did have a great time. But that wasn’t enough.

  “That’s all important,” she said, pushing her barely tasted enchiladas aside to reach across the table and take his hand. “But those are things that make for a strong friendship. Not a...”

  She couldn’t do it. Alexia wanted to pound her head on the table a few times to try to shake the words loose, but didn’t figure it’d do much good. So she took a deep sip of her pomegranate margarita—her third—instead. How was she supposed to say that she had absolutely zip sexual interest in him? She specialized in the art of subliminally messaging the center of the brain that controlled sexual response. She was about to start a job that required her to be front and center, publicly talking about how to heal and stimulate sexual responses. How could she work with test subjects and expect people who’d had sexual trauma to trust her to help them if she couldn’t even talk about her own sexual needs?

  “Look,” Edward said, twining his fingers with hers. “I know what you’re worried about. That mythical spark isn’t blazing between us. You think there should be some energy, some physical manifestation of attraction.”

  It was all she could do not to throw her hands in the air and say duh.

  “And you don’t?” She’d worked enough in the field of sexual health to know there were men who couldn’t perform. Others whose libidos were so low, they had no interest in sex. But she wouldn’t have thought that Edward fit that category. He was a geek, sure. And a little socially awkward sometimes. But if he had issues, he wouldn’t hide them. He’d self-diagnose and dive into treatment, using himself as a test subject.

  “Our species was made to experience sexual connections,” she said, shifting the discussion into scientific mode instead of personal, and instantly relaxing. “You know the statistics as well as I do. The odds of a romantic relationship lasting without sex are slim.”

  “Alexia, relationships based on sexual heat don’t last. They flare hot and intense, then burn out just as fast.” Edward leaned forward, his words as sincere as the fervent look on his face. “Better to base a relationship on more solid, long-lasting emotions. Like friendship and similar interests. We share the same values, the same goals in lif
e. That matters more than a few paltry orgasms.”

  Well, sure. If they were paltry, she could see his point. Who needed that? Alexia thought, dumbfounded.

  “We’re scientists who specialize in sexual health,” he continued. “Layering the physical elements into our relationship won’t be an issue. And when we do, it’ll be done in a well-thought-out, practical and measured way. Just as it should be between two intelligent scientists focused on the long term.”

  Well... Wasn’t that sexy.

  Alexia drained her margarita, the bitter tang of the pomegranate matching the taste on her tongue. Was that how she came across? As the kind of woman who would settle for measured practicality? In bed? There was only one thing she wanted to be measuring in bed.

  Edward must have sensed her disquiet, because he shook his head, as if to stop her from saying anything.

  “Think about it,” he said, giving her fingers one last squeeze before trading them for his fork again. “In the meantime, don’t worry about us. Get settled in your apartment, enjoy the weekend. Maybe reacquaint yourself with some of your old haunts. That’d be fun, right? Don’t you have a family event this weekend?”

  “My father’s retirement party,” she acknowledged with an inward cringe. How fun was that going to be? The only thing that might appeal more was finding a gynecologist with a hook for a hand. Alexia signaled the waiter for another margarita.

  “Just let it go for now. Let your subconscious work it through. I’ll wait awhile before I bring it up again.” He looked so sincere, so sweet, that it actively hurt to have to set him straight. But she wasn’t going to change her mind, and the sooner he accepted that, the sooner they could reestablish their friendship on its original terms. Alexia sighed, then, not seeing any choice, opened her mouth to tell him that she’d made up her mind already.

  As if reading her intention, he hurried to say, “In the meantime, did I tell you about the latest round of crackpot threats the institute is getting?”