As waves pummeled them, he could feel her claws sinking into his skin. He didn’t change his hold or his pace. It was slow going, but it would be successful. He’d done this particular drill at least a hundred times before.
Ouch! Did she just bite his arm? Her movements were growing frantic.
He paused, treading water. “Calm down,” he ordered.
She stilled against him.
With his lips next to her ear, he said, “We’re almost at the sandbar. You need to relax.”
He felt her nod. That was his cue to keep moving. Slow and steady, he pulled her through the strong currents and toward the shore.
As his feet slid over the sandbar, a wave lifted them high enough that he could see the beach clearly. The tide was coming in quickly.
Rain continued to fall and its steady rhythm helped wash the sea salt from his eyes. Catching sight of another large wave, one that would be big enough to bodysurf to shore, he pulled her onto his body and spun them around.
The wave lifted them and carried them toward shore. Declan landed on his feet first, picking up Maura and carrying her up onto the bank. He didn’t stop there, walking across the beach and taking her up the wall in a fireman’s carry…not stopping until they were both on the balcony.
The rain had slowed to a light sprinkle by then. Her eyes looked like a doe’s as he gazed into them. “Are you okay?”
She clung to him, shaking, not speaking.
“You need to talk to me, or I’m going to take matters into my own hands.”
Her teeth chattered, and though it looked like she was attempting to nod that all was well, he wasn’t buying into it. Picking her up again, he opened her balcony door, took her inside, closed it, and walked through to where he thought her bathroom should be. It was a safe bet, since it was likely that their apartments would be mirror images of each other.
Putting the stopper in place, he flipped on the bathwater and turned to face her.
The woman was as white as a sheet. Turning her around, he unzipped her wet suit. He noticed some nasty scars on her back, but he didn’t utter a word of question. He pushed the neoprene off one shoulder and then off the other. Working the suit down over her hips, he managed to snag the bottom of it with his foot and lift her up and out.
Lowering her into the tub, he didn’t let go until she was safely covered in the warm water. Huh, she had scars on her arms too. Whatever she’d been through, it must have been painful. It also didn’t keep him from noticing how captivating she was.
His eyes stopped traveling up and down and locked firmly to hers. That green gaze of hers drew him in, inviting him to glimpse into her soul. The openness was intoxicating.
When she licked her luscious lips, his eyes moved down, and for a brief second, he forgot that she was his enigmatic neighbor and thought only of kissing her. A woman. Naked. In a bathtub full of warm, inviting water.
Her hand shot out, making contact with his chest. Instead of pushing him away, her fingertips traced over the muscles.
He cleared his throat. “Maura…”
She looked at him like a woman who knew exactly what she wanted from a man. Again, she touched her tongue to those pink lips, and then said, “Thank you, Declan.”
His name. He didn’t ever remember her saying his name under normal circumstances, and he liked the way it sounded coming from her mouth.
Leaning down, he kissed her. Tenderly. Just a taste.
Salt, and a hint of her, filled his senses as the kiss deepened. Her tongue boldly sought his as he welcomed her into his mouth. Hunger ate at him—hers and his. The kiss drew him deeper into her.
Her hands were holding his head, fingers entwined in his hair, and her openness to him was glorious. He wanted her, wanted to pillage and plunder all of that sweetness to his heart’s content.
With her head cradled in his hands, he pulled back. He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t take from her when she had just gone through something so horrific.
She stared at him. Her green eyes taunted him, burning away his will.
“I…” He let go of her head and drew farther away. “If you’re warmed up, we need to get you out of there before the bathwater gets cold.” As he stood, his gaze shifted. There she was, in all her glory. Maura Maxwell naked was nothing like he’d imagined she’d be. Her breasts were ripe—just enough to fill his mouth and hands—and her body was trim and tight, with legs that went on forever. His fingers curled into fists. He was just going to have to get a grip.
The water sloshed to the side as she sat up in the tub. She pulled the elastic from her hair, making the strands spread out like a halo. She didn’t make a move to cover herself. Instead she looked up at him unashamedly. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
He nodded, not trusting his vocal cords. The sounds might come out as a jumble of noises, and then he’d lose his chivalrous focus for sure and crawl into the tub with her.
There was a confidence and beauty about her that drew him. His eyes followed the tiny drops of water as they ran down the valley between her breasts. He held out a towel for her, and she stepped out of the tub and into his embrace. He dried her off briskly, then pulled another bath sheet off the rack and wrapped it around her. She leaned into him and he took her weight without a sound, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on the top of her wet hair.
“I didn’t realize there was a storm.”
“I saw the signs of it. The storm came in fast.”
“It did.” The chagrin in her voice was obvious.
“C’mon, let’s get a blanket to wrap you in. And some warm socks. You need something to warm you up from the inside too. Whiskey? Or brandy?”
“How about a cognac?” Those green eyes were lit with a blazingly brilliant fire, and the balls of her cheeks were flushed with red. Amazing that she could be so pretty when she had just almost been killed.
Declan didn’t say anything. He hustled out of the bathroom, through her living room, and out her balcony door, leaving temptation behind. She could get her own cognac. Maura was the kind of woman who could make a guy linger and never leave.
He took in a long, slow breath. His life didn’t lend itself to entanglements, not of the female kind. It was easier to keep relationships at arm’s length. Have fun. Satisfy needs. And then move on. Being a SEAL was unpredictable, and he’d seen too many guys seek normality with ladies, only to have it come crashing down around their ears.
Closing the glass, he exhaled. Gazing into her apartment from the other side of the divider gave him an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, like this was something that could be good. He didn’t know why. He barely knew this woman. She was the quiet lady who lived next door and barely said a word to him. Christ, what was he thinking! Move on.
Scratching his head, he gave up his mental meanderings and entered his apartment, closing his own sliding glass door, blocking her out further. Outside, the storm had calmed, moving out to sea, and a quiet lull was coming to the area in stages of silence as everything settled for the night. Soon the stars would be visible in all of their glory, and he could walk the beach, enjoying it.
A knock at the front door reminded him that he had made other plans for the evening. “Oh, shit! I forgot about Sali.”
It was a convenient on-again, off-again relationship that he’d had for years. When they were both between relationships, they tended to hook up. No strings, just a mutual satisfying of needs. Right now, all he wanted was to put his adrenaline rush to some good use.
Striding across the room, he opened the door to greet Sali Jensen, a petite blond with golden skin and bright blue eyes.
* * *
After Sali left the next morning, Declan lay in bed, and it was painfully clear that the woman he wanted to see again was…Maura. He had been unable to stop thinking about her all night long. His mind had played through images:
holding Maura close to him as he swam, carrying her, pulling off her wet suit, and placing her into the tub of warm water. And that kiss… His body got hard thinking about it.
He rubbed his hands over his eyes. What the hell!
Declan gave up on the logic of it all and got up to face the music. Grabbing a pair of jeans as he went, he stepped into them and buttoned the top button.
At least the girl next door seemed to like sports. He’d counted two surfboards, well-used Rollerblades, and a mountain bike over there. Usually he did those things with a Teammate, but it could be more satisfying to explore those interests with a female companion.
Damn, too much pondering! He was like a wind-up doll—tons of energy and nowhere to go with it. A good hard run—by himself—might get his head back on track, he thought.
Walking over to the window, he stared out at the gorgeous day. He could see early-morning joggers out doing their thing. Why not?
Checking the clock on the wall, he saw that he had two hours before he needed to be on the Amphibious Base. So he switched his jeans for running shorts and beach runner shoes—the kind with toes—and then headed out the balcony door. Stretching his muscles, he limbered up and then descended the wall. The water had made the sand a bit firmer, and it was easier to walk as he made his way down to the edge of the lapping waves. That was the ideal spot for a swift run.
Breathing in the fresh sea air, he took off at a good pace. It wasn’t long before he felt an itch at the center of his back, like someone was watching him. As he glanced over his shoulder, he saw her. Maura.
She smiled and then zipped past him. “Morning.”
He revved up his speed and joined her. “Good morning. You look well.”
“I am. How are you? Did you have a good night?”
His eyebrows drew in. “Ah…sure.”
“Declan.” She peered up at him. When she put her hand on his arm, he looked at her.
She tugged him to a halt, urging him to come sit next to her on the rocks near the pier. They’d run a long way and he had barely noticed the distance. Regardless, he allowed her to lead him.
“I’m not going to be shy. I promised myself out there, on the water. What you did last night was…miraculous! Thank you.” She batted those sultry eyes at him.
He shook his head and sighed. “You were on my mind several times last night.”
She grinned at him. “Can I take you to dinner tonight?”
The question piqued his mischievous streak. He’d be willing to have a lovely lady take him out. That was worth pursuing.
“Where?” He was pleased and oddly nervous at the same time. After all, a woman who went out in a storm didn’t necessarily show the best sense. Best, hell. And yet she was…in her own way…compelling.
“It’s a surprise. Meet you at seven?”
“How about five? I’ll be hungry.”
“Perfect!” she exclaimed. “I’m going to blow your socks off.”
He stood. God, I hope she isn’t being literal. Then again…
She gave him a quick hug and ran down the beach.
Time was ticking. He had to get to the base. Turning around, he headed toward home. Whatever was in store for him with this woman, he’d have to put it out of his mind for now. Work beckoned.
Chapter 3
The desert air was dry. They’d fast-roped into the training area two hours before and hiked to the mountain range. Their goal was to reach and eliminate the targets before the opposing group could stop them. Going up the difficult terrain was going to cinch the Op. The other group wouldn’t expect a vertical ascent and assault.
The SEALs worked their way up a sheer cliff that even experts might consider highly challenging, and it was mostly fun. Declan preferred to push himself when he could, and the rest of his Team had the same mind-set. This climb met that criterion.
At the mountain plateau, they broke into three groups of two men each. Time was not in their favor if they wanted to get the drop on the other group, so they ran like their pants were on fire to get down to their lookout spots.
They’d rotated them from the last training scenario, and no one would suspect this tactic.
Leaper was making more faces than a clown. He wasn’t a woodsman. Declan wasn’t necessarily one either, not that he would ever consider complaining. He could easily admit that he had always felt he was more a creature of the water than of the land, but it was all part of SEAL Team: sea, air, and land. Right now, he was carrying a sniper rifle, ammo, and pack and wearing his ghillie. He’d pulled on the overall onesie and built it on the fly as they came down the mountain.
Now was not the time to point out to Leaper that he’d just tucked poison oak under his chin. The damage was done, and his swim buddy was going to be bathing in pink stuff to ease the itch tonight.
Finally, they reached their goal. Getting down on his belly, Declan crawled forward, grateful that there were no leaves to rustle and give away his position. He got as close as he dared. His vantage point showed the opposing group clearly. They were roughhousing and taking their time setting up the targets.
Damn, those guys are way behind. They probably think we’re still going around the mountains. But why the hell would anyone go around when they could go over?
He signaled Leaper, who passed back the info. Hand signals were ideal, given the way sound could carry in this area, and the enemy had the same equipment, so if they were scanning channels, using the radios could get Declan’s Team blown.
As silently as possible, Declan took a few sips of water and waited for the signal to shoot. The trajectory was perfect. The windage, elevation, and air pressure had been taken into account. He’d adjusted his scope, gotten the appropriate numbers set, and his mind went over the math and angles one more time to double-check himself.
His ghillie suit, basically a camo suit layered with foliage to hide him in the terrain, currently included two large brown tarantulas. His eyes had caught the movement and he gave them a second’s notice as they crawled up his arm and perched on his head. Declan didn’t mind. He liked spiders.
Leaper, who was his spotter, signaled him.
The rest of his team had swept the area and confirmed the Intel. They held their positions, and there was even a backup sniper to their left in case Declan’s shots were blocked. Nothing was left to chance.
Leaper gave the “go” signal.
Declan returned the signal. He kept his eyes on target as he looked through the scope. He had the first kill in sight.
Taking in a half breath, he held it and pulled the trigger. He’d learned the technique years ago from a frogman who could shoot a wart off of a tadpole. One of the best parts of the Teams was sharing knowledge. The info they passed on to each other was not only useful, but fucking lifesaving.
They got the first target even before the other Team prepped. Those guys were going to get nailed for having their pants down.
The mic gave three clicks. Anyone listening would think it was static. For him, it meant Go! The next target waited.
Repeating his technique, he took out the target and scanned for more. Three shots later, he’d eliminated every threat before the other Team could take out their targets or retaliate.
A series of clicks over the mic was their wrap sound: All clear!
Yep! Our Team won this training game. Hooyah!
Backing slowly out of his hiding place, Declan was pleased. This meant they were wheels-up earlier than intended. The tarantulas fell from his head and scrambled away.
As the sun blazed down on him and sweat drenched his back and legs, he knew that he’d performed well. They’d done this exercise three dozen times, and they’d probably do it another three dozen until everything was reflex and every angle and contingency was explored.
He made his way back. Then he secured the sniper rifle and prepared to rope do
wn the mountain. Leaper was itching like a madman, and Declan couldn’t stop chuckling every time he looked at the guy. He felt for his frog-brother. He’d been in that position before.
The air was clean and clear, and Declan breathed deeply. Pretty special up here. His guys could have hitched a ride out with the losing Team, but that wasn’t the exit strategy. For the most part, unless it was necessary to deviate, they’d stick to their plan.
A congratulatory thump on the back from Leaper made Declan smile. Tromping Team ONE always gave him a lift.
Elation slid through him. SEALs loved this job. Wherever it took them, whatever he was doing, Declan knew this was exactly where he was meant to be. As a sniper, gathering Intel or pulling the trigger, fast-roping, swimming, diving, being launched out a torpedo tube…it didn’t matter. As long as he could keep being a SEAL and engaging every part of his being the best way he knew how, he’d be at peace.
At the top of the peak, he took off the suit, stripped it of foliage, and redistributed the branches quickly so there was no evidence of him there—the tarantulas had long since departed—and placed the suit in his pack. He strapped his gear back in place, made sure his rock-climbing harness was secure, hooked onto the line, and lowered himself over the side.
Pushing off the wall with his feet, he made it down in record time.
Above him, freaking Leaper did a swan dive, heading down face-first. The man had a death wish at times that made Declan’s gut clench. But there was no denying Leaper’s skills as he zipped to a stop beside him.
“Idiot!” Declan mumbled.
“Oh, must you call me those love names when all of our Teammates are around?” Leaper made smooching sounds with his lips.
Declan shook his head. “C’mon. I’m buying when we get back. Cold ones. At least until I have to get ready for my date.”
“Oh, a date! Can I come?” Leaper lunged for him, obviously intending some kind of bear hug or embrace.
Declan stepped aside and watched Leaper hit the ground. Leaning over his friend, he asked, “How’s the air down there?”
SEAL Forever Page 2