A SEAL’s Desire

by Seton, Cora

  For the first time in years she wasn’t sure how to proceed. She knew she had to finish what she’d started and earn the money to get the remainder of the girls through school. If she had a normal job, getting married wouldn’t affect her earning power, but working for Fulsom was far from normal. He demanded total loyalty—and paid enough to make it hard to say no. In all the years she’d been on his payroll, he’d expected her to be available morning, noon and night. He’d allowed her those first couple of early vacations to visit Peru but had made it clear he resented her absence, and she’d stopped asking for time off. Fulsom might not know why she needed the money he paid her, but he knew she needed it and took full advantage of his power over her.

  If she married Greg—

  She’d lose her job—the job that was already nearly gone. It was that simple. By keeping Clem on after she’d shown the world exactly what kind of man he was, and forcing her to become a participant of the show she was supposed to be directing, Fulsom had made it clear he was nearly done with her. No one else would pay her so well, and being fired by such a famous man would leave her in no position to pursue a career in Hollywood.

  Did she want that career, though?

  Of course she did, she told herself furiously. That’s what she’d worked for all these years—

  No, that wasn’t true. Renata’s shoulders slumped. That was what she’d put herself through school for in her late teens and early twenties, but it wasn’t why she’d worked with Fulsom for the last decade.

  That had been for Lorena, Noelia, Elena and the rest of the girls in Peru. The same ones who were growing up and leaving her sphere of influence one by one. She could no longer even pretend to be a surrogate mother to any of them. Not that she ever really had been.

  Every time she got a glimpse of Savannah and Jacob, a different kind of ache filled her, followed by a surge of frustration. This was the worst possible moment for the baby bug to bite her. She’d decided to give Savannah a wide berth for now. For good measure, she’d started to avoid Nora, too, whose belly was getting round. Nora wouldn’t give birth until spring, but every time she caught sight of the woman—a dozen times a day despite her best intentions—Renata thought about what pregnancy would feel like, and another blast of hormones would suffuse her, leaving her looking for Greg and then angry at herself for doing so.

  “There,” Avery said, finishing doing up the fastenings of Renata’s gown. “Breakfast?”

  “Breakfast,” Renata agreed, eager to get away from such uncomfortable thoughts, but when they stepped out of the bunkhouse bathroom, they encountered pandemonium.

  “Boone was the one who noticed. They were all like that, though,” Riley was saying indignantly.

  “Every inch of our solar panels was covered in snow. Packed down—on purpose,” Hope added.

  “All of the panels were the same,” Boone said. “Where were the patrols? Why didn’t anyone see anything?”

  “We can’t be everywhere at once—you know that,” a rather disgruntled Curtis answered. He and Anders had the sleepy look of men who’d been awake for far too long. “Whoever did it must have snuck around while we were out checking on the herd.”

  “Maybe we need more patrols,” Boone said.

  “Covering up the solar panels with snow is sort of a dumb prank,” Curtis pointed out. “Sounds like something the crew might get up to rather than malicious intruders. Especially since it’s January in Montana and we’re not expecting much out of the panels right now. If they go after the geothermal or wind—”

  “Pipe down,” Boone ordered. “If it’s the crew, you don’t need to give them ideas.” He spotted Renata and clamped his mouth shut.

  Renata hesitated, knowing she was still far more crew than Base Camp participant. She wasn’t going to waste her breath trying to convince them otherwise. Clem might very well have instigated something like this.

  Her phone chimed just as Kai announced that breakfast was ready, and she moved to the far side of the room to evade the crush of hungry people. Mayra was calling.

  “Hello?”

  “Renata, it’s Mayra.” Neither Renata nor anyone else could convince the woman that her name came up on screen when she called.

  “Good to hear from you. How is everyone?”

  “Everyone is fine, but our bus—not so much.” She got down to business in her usual fashion. Mayra never minced words. “The engine is done for. It’s an expensive bill.”

  Renata’s heart sank. She knew exactly what the woman was asking for. “How much?”

  The sum she named made Renata grit her teeth. Thank God Fulsom had doubled her pay. That didn’t mean he’d keep her on once the show’s season was done, however. She’d hoped to bank that extra pay for future months—

  She tallied the amount she’d pledged to pay per month over the next twenty-nine months until all the girls graduated from high school, a calculation she performed several times a day.

  “I’ll cover it,” she said, mentally adding the new sum to the old tally. What else could she do? As far as Mayra and Gabriela knew, she was a wealthy woman with unlimited access to funds. She’d cultivated their belief in her since the day she accepted Fulsom’s offer of employment. Those women had enough to worry about mothering so many orphaned girls. She’d resolved from the start they would never have to worry about money.

  “Everything okay?” Greg asked when she joined him in line a minute later.

  “It’s fine.” She couldn’t keep the frustration out of her voice, though, and she had the feeling he wasn’t fooled. When he followed her and Avery outside after their meal, she knew she was right.

  “Don’t you have solar panels to fix?” Renata asked him as they all trudged toward the animal pens.

  “The panels weren’t damaged, only covered with snow to try to hamper their effectiveness. Like Curtis said, it’s the dead of winter; they’re only one small part of our energy scheme. I’ll get to them, but first I’ll help you and Avery.”

  “The more the merrier,” Avery said when Renata didn’t answer. She was wondering what Clem was up to this time. He must have ordered the panels to be covered. Had Fulsom told him to do it to shake up the show? Was the billionaire talking to Clem more than her now?

  Probably.

  As they made the rounds, caring for the animals, bumping into Walker on his way to check the bison herd, Renata wondered how she should fill the rest of her days at Base Camp. Obviously, they were numbered, and if she wanted to change that without marrying Greg and letting down everyone in Peru, she needed to think of a way to prove to Fulsom he still needed her.

  She remembered the question Greg had tried to ask her. What would she do if she stayed at Base Camp for good? She wouldn’t work on solar panels or wind turbines. She didn’t think designing or maintaining the energy grid was for her. She wasn’t big on animals, either. Gardening?

  Not really her thing.

  She was a director. Had always been a director.

  “Chickens next,” Avery said.

  They trudged on to the chicken coop. Avery took the lead. Behind her back, but well within sight of the camera crew that had tracked them since they left the bunkhouse, Greg took Renata’s hand.

  She knew she should shake him off, but the little thrill that zipped through her body at his touch—even through their gloves—made her hesitate. Everything else in her life right now made her feel so hopeless—at least this was positive.

  Renata nearly snorted. Falling for Greg was hardly positive. It meant failing to fulfill her promise to her girls and failing to fulfill her dream of a Hollywood career, too.

  “You’ve got the energy grid. Avery has her animals. What am I supposed to do here?” she made herself ask, dreading the long hours she had to fill before bedtime.

  Avery cast her a strange look over her shoulder, and Renata knew why. The other woman wasn’t here for the animals; she had hoped to be an actress and spent all her free time messing around with filmmaking.

>   “I always pictured you, Avery and Eve starting a movie production company when I thought of our future,” Greg said.

  Renata stopped dead, flummoxed equally by his suggestion and by the idea he’d been thinking about their future. How much time had he spent on that?

  Avery whirled around to face them. “A production company? In Chance Creek?”

  “Why not?” Greg asked.

  “Because films are made in California. New York. Vancouver. Atlanta.” Avery ticked them off on her fingers.

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t start a new trend. Hell, you’ve even got a star actress in town. Ella Hall. Isn’t she working on a screenplay or something?”

  “That’s true,” Avery admitted.

  “That’s the whole point of Base Camp, right? Doing what you love in a sustainable fashion. So start a sustainable film company.”

  “No one wants sustainable movies. Could you get more boring?” Clem brayed from behind them. Renata had nearly forgotten the crew was there. When she was directing, she was more formal about inserting herself into the show, doing so only during planned interviews. Clem had always been front and center on Tracking the Stars. He must hate playing second fiddle to ten Navy SEALs.

  Greg ignored him. “Wouldn’t you like to build something from the ground up?” he asked Renata.

  Renata didn’t know how to answer that. She’d never even considered such a thing.

  “Give us some action, would you?” Clem complained. “Talk, talk, talk—that’s all you ever do.”

  Greg rolled his eyes, but instead of telling Clem to shove it, he said, “Fine, I’ll give you some action.” For a moment, Renata thought he’d kiss her, but he seemed to change his mind. Instead, he grabbed a shovel leaning against the coop.

  In a matter of minutes, he’d dug two long, parallel trenches through the snow and placed a scattering of feed at the end of each of them.

  He opened the door to the chicken coop. “Come on, Renata. Let’s have a chicken race.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Renata said, but still buzzing from his suggestion and grateful for the distraction, she joined him in the coop, caught a chicken—a black-and-white-speckled one—and carried it carefully to the start of one of the trenches. “Won’t it fly away as soon as I put it down?”

  “Their wings are clipped. It won’t get far,” Avery reassured her. “I think a chicken race is just what we need. I’ll call the start.”

  Greg took his place with a red chicken in his hands.

  “On your mark. Get set. Go!” Avery called.

  Renata and Greg let their chickens go. Renata’s ran in a quick circle and nearly took off for the bunkhouse before she managed to shoo it back into the trench. Greg’s headed straight for the feed at the far end.

  Byron signaled from behind his camera, a gesture that plainly said, Hype this up or it’ll be too boring to use.

  “Go, chicken,” Renata called half-heartedly after hers.

  “Go, chicken. Go!” Greg hollered, getting into the swing of it.

  The film crew raced to keep up, but after the initial flurry of movement, the chickens seemed to decide they weren’t in that much of a hurry to get to the feed at the end of the trenches after all. Greg’s got distracted by something in the snow, a discolored patch surrounding a dead leaf. Renata’s seemed inclined to turn back.

  Five minutes later, Renata’s finally made it to the finish line.

  “Well, that was exciting,” Clem drawled.

  “What do I win?” Clem’s disgust made Renata happy. To her surprise, the chicken race had been kind of fun. Silly, but sometimes silly was just what you needed.

  “A kiss. What else?” Greg came to stand in front of her, put his hands on her hips and tugged her closer. He gave her time to pull away, but Renata didn’t. She was too busy anticipating the feel of him—

  She sighed when their mouths met. No one kissed like Greg. No one made her feel so melty inside. She couldn’t help slide her hands over his shoulders to wrap them around his neck.

  “Am I the only one who cares that the chickens are still loose?” Avery demanded.

  Renata chuckled but didn’t pull away, and neither did Greg. She could hear Avery racing through the snow, swearing now and then. Greg’s kisses were far too delicious to forgo, even if she should be helping.

  “Guess we’d better go chase chickens,” Greg said finally.

  “Guess so,” she agreed. She tried not to notice the cameras focused on them or Clem’s sneering expression as they helped Avery round up the escapee hens.

  “Who gives a crap about a lousy kiss?” Clem said. “You need to start betting for some real stakes.”

  “Like what?” Renata snatched up the black-and-white-speckled hen.

  “Like five hundred bucks.” Clem pointed to the chicken in her arms. “You and me. Let’s go—right now.”

  “You don’t need to do that,” Greg said when Renata moved automatically to the starting line again.

  She did if she wanted to earn some extra cash. Her chicken had already proved it knew how to win this race.

  “Let’s do this,” she called to Clem.

  Avery, who’d just managed to catch the red hen, handed it over to the director reluctantly. “Don’t hurt Sammy.”

  “Sammy?” Clem took the hen with distaste, holding it out from his body as if afraid it might soil him. Which it easily could, Renata knew. The hens didn’t discriminate about where they pooped.

  “It’s named for Samantha,” Avery explained. “That one is Nora,” she told Renata.

  Renata considered the bird. She could see the resemblance and decided not to ask if one was named for her.

  “On your mark. Get set. Go!”

  The birds were off. As before, Sammy dashed off toward the feed at the end of the trench like she might make it there in moments but got distracted along the way by the same patch of snow that had waylaid her the first time.

  Nora ran in a circle and then made her way very deliberately toward the feed in her trench.

  The race continued in fits and starts, neither chicken in a very big hurry to get anywhere.

  In the end, however, Nora proved the winner again.

  “Five hundred bucks.” Renata held a hand out toward Clem.

  Clem pulled out his wallet and counted bills. His face was grim, but he laughed off his defeat. “Should have known better than to use a bird this loser chose.” He nodded at Greg as he placed the final bill in her hand. “Besides, five hundred bucks is nothing when you earn what I do. I bet Fulsom pays me double what he pays you.”

  “I doubt it.”

  But Renata wondered if she knew as much about Fulsom as she thought she did.

  Chapter Six

  ‡

  Greg watched Renata pocket her winnings with a heavy heart. All Clem had to do was suggest a contest and she’d jump in with both feet. He wasn’t against placing a friendly bet or two now and then, but whatever she had going on with the other director wasn’t healthy.

  She kept her hand in the pocket of her spencer a moment or two longer than necessary, as if assuring herself the money was there. An odd thing for a woman to do who had to earn a decent living working for a billionaire like Fulsom.

  Was she short on cash? Did she have a gambling problem? What else didn’t he know about Renata?

  They needed to start spending a lot more time together.

  “Let’s get those hens back in their pen,” he said shortly and went after Nora. Renata managed to catch Sammy, and they finished the chores with Avery, neither of them talking much. Greg wasn’t sure if Renata had noticed his mood or if she was still savoring her victory.

  He was glad when Harris Wentworth came along and asked them to return to the bunkhouse for an announcement. Anything to get his mind off his dark thoughts.

  Greg had always appreciated Harris. He was a tall, thoughtful man who had a knack for knowing the right thing to do in a situation. He’d been studying metalsmithi
ng with a local rancher and had set up a makeshift forge in back of the barn.

  “What’s this about?” Renata asked Greg as they neared the bunkhouse.

  “I don’t know.”

  They filed in with the others, and when everyone was grouped inside, Harris led Samantha to the front of the room. Greg couldn’t help think of the chicken named after her. Renata caught him smiling and smiled back. He leaned companionably closer to her and put an arm around her waist. It felt so natural he was grateful Renata didn’t shrug her way out from under it.

  “Thanks for giving us a minute of your time,” Harris said. “I guess we could have waited for lunch or dinner, but we just found out—and hell, we couldn’t wait a minute to share our news.”

  Samantha nodded in agreement, a smile spreading over her face. “I’m pregnant!” she cried. “Eve, you and I are going to be pregnant together!”

  A chorus of happy cries greeted her announcement, and everyone pressed forward to congratulate the happy couple. Greg couldn’t help himself. He squeezed Renata and gestured at them. “That could be us one of these days.”

  Renata snapped her head around to look at him. “Putting the cart before the horse a little bit, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. We’re good together, don’t you think?” He tried to brazen it out, but it was clear he’d crossed a line.

  “We’ve barely kissed. Now you’re talking children?” Renata had her no-nonsense director face on. In a minute she’d cross her arms and tap her toe.

  He leaned closer and whispered into her ear, “I’m up for anything you want. Anytime you want.” He meant it to be funny, but he’d surprised her again, and he saw the moment she thought about it—really thought about being with him. The flash of desire in her eyes fired up an answering surge of longing within him. Hell, knowing she wanted him—even a little bit—made him want her more.

  He bent lower. “We can find someplace to be alone right now if you—”

  “Popping the question?” Clem blared in his ear. The director was standing as close to him as he was to Renata. “Is there going to be another happy announcement? What do you say, Renata? Ready for wedding bells and baby booties?”