Call to Honor

by Tawny Weber

  “Why don’t I give it to you after dinner? You can take it back to your office, read it later. I’m sure it defies protocol to read at the table,” she said, trying a joking tone.

  “Nonsense.” Still eating with one hand, he held out the other.

  Bryanna had a brief urge to snag the last prawn from her plate and run as fast as her Jimmy Choos would carry her. But she’d never been a wimp and she didn’t see any point in learning that skill now. Not even to win love at first sight.

  So she pulled the pages she’d spent most of the night and all of the day on from her bag and, despite her reluctance to let go, handed them over.

  She kept her eyes on her plate as he read, marshaling her arguments as she pushed her rice into geometric shapes. She hadn’t changed her focus because Aaron objected to the centerpiece of her campaign. She wasn’t the type to sublimate her own needs, her own strengths or, heck, even her style choices in order to get someone else’s approval.

  Bryanna would never change herself for someone else. That wasn’t what she’d done at all. But when her uncle laid the pages on the table between them, she took a quick drink of water to cool the heat in her throat as he tapped an impatient beat over them.

  “Well...?”

  She didn’t have to ask what he was questioning.

  “I’ve been rethinking the scope of this project and this is a representation of that idea. I think it’d be stronger if we take a wider focus so as to incorporate the entirety of the base functions. I’ll do a sidebar on the SEALs, of course, but it might be better to take that as a general overview instead of sensationalizing their function.” Bryanna ended on an upbeat note, trying to infuse her words with as much finality as she could. After all, this was her job. She was the one putting together the campaign proposal. It was her vision driving the program and she could adjust it if she wanted to.

  It only took one look at her uncle’s face to see that she wasn’t bullshitting him nearly as well as she’d been bullshitting herself. But good ole Uncle Martin, proving he was as much politician as tactician, kept right on smiling.

  “Well, now, there’s a thought. Nice and simple, easy, even. Something an ensign with basic English skills could manage, of course, but nothing says a civilian needs to bring more to the table than our own personnel. One of the things I admire about you, Bryanna, is the high standard you set for yourself and how well you’ve lived up to it.”

  “There’s a lot to be said for dipping in toes before taking a deep-sea dive,” Bryanna pointed out. She carefully set her fork and knife down, using all of her energy to keep her smile from shaking clear off her face.

  “There is, indeed. And there’s a place in the world for people who settle for a dip. That place is not the Navy. Do you think we became a world power by taking the easy road? Do you think the Navy SEALs became one of the strongest forces in the known world by trying to please everyone?”

  Bryanna shook her head. “I think they’ve become the best because of their determination, their training and their dedication to their oath. That oath includes something about not seeking recognition or advertising their actions. One of the things they specialize in is covert operations. Covert means secret, stealth.”

  “Very true.” Looking unimpressed by her impassioned words, the admiral simply gestured with his fork for her to continue. “And Poseidon?”

  “Part of Poseidon’s power is their brotherhood. These men are possibly the most cohesive fighting force in the world. Every aspect of their lives is devoted to their team, their mission.”

  “Indeed. And the details of their overall team mission are known only to these twelve men. And, perhaps, to Admiral Cree, who leads them,” her uncle pointed out. “That adds to their air of exclusivity. But their prestige as an elite force does make some people nervous.”

  Bryanna narrowed her eyes, wondering if there was a message in the admiral’s words.

  “Their excellence is cause for envy,” she agreed. “Like every other element of their training, they go bigger. They cross-train so each man on the team holds multiple ratings. They push harder so each man excels in every aspect of their training. And every single man in Poseidon takes the very core values of the SEALs to heart as a way of life. Especially the value of silence.” She knew the awe she felt for that level of dedication rang with evangelical fervor in her voice, but she couldn’t help it. Didn’t want to, either.

  “Excellent summary,” her uncle said after a moment. “Isn’t that what you’re here to share? That standard of excellence?”

  He dabbed his mouth with the white linen napkin, then tossed it over his spotless plate.

  “Even if it’s at the expense of someone else? Do you think that publicity, that funding, takes priority over the anonymity of the teams? Isn’t one of the key components to the cohesive power of the team the very fact that they are unrecognized as individuals?”

  “All true. Every word of it’s fact, Bryanna. And if you can’t spin that information in such a way as to protect that anonymity and still promote our forces, your father paid too much for your fancy education. You’ve been hired to do a job, young lady. To build a campaign around the SEALs’ birthday, to create a celebration worthy of their name. One way or the other, you’ll do it,” he ordered as he got to his feet. “This issue will be settled tomorrow. My office, oh-nine-hundred. You’ll bring the campaign you intend to present to Public Affairs after you’ve defended it to Poseidon and earned their approval.”

  Oh, boy. Her hand pressed to her stomach, where the rich, buttery prawns did war with nervous butterflies, Bryanna took a deep breath. It looked as if she had one night to make some decisions, and to rewrite the article.

  “Will Aaron... I mean, Chief Ward be there?”

  “And his commander.” Uncle Martin arched one bushy white brow. “You afraid of a little skirmish?”

  “Of course not.”

  That’d be silly.

  She was afraid of having her heart broken.

  * * *

  “YOU READY?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” Slanting a look at Savino, Aaron took off his cap, slapped it against his thigh, then put it back on his head. “This is my responsibility. Whatever happens, it’s on me. The team will pay enough with the notoriety. Nobody should have to pay with anything else.”

  “Your official orders were to offer assistance,” Savino reminded him with a shrug.

  “And the unofficial plan was to stop her,” Aaron pointed out. “To prevent this article from making a mockery of Poseidon, more to keep the brotherhood where it belongs. On the down low.”

  “My unofficial plan was to get Cree to black out our involvement,” Savino reminded him. “No plan survives first contact.”

  Aaron shifted his feet at the paraphrasing of the oft-quoted SEAL saying before routinely responding with “There are two ways to do something. The right way. And again.”

  Still, Aaron hesitated. He’d worked plenty of missions that carried a heavy cost. He’d spent plenty of sleepless nights mourning collateral damage. But he’d never considered that the cost and damage might impact what he suspected could be the most important relationship in his life.

  “The admiral is waiting,” Savino said quietly.

  “Oh, yeah. The admiral. That’d be Bryanna’s uncle.”

  “Pretty sure he won’t keelhaul you for seducing his pretty niece.” With that and one of his rare, teasing grins, Savino clapped his hand on Aaron’s shoulder for a brief moment, then yanked the door open and waved his teammate inside. “But just in case, we’ll keep that on the QT.”

  “Well, there’s reassurance for you,” Aaron muttered as he entered the admiral’s antechamber. He stood with Savino while the ensign at the desk announced their presence. Without fanfare, they were escorted into Admiral Granger’s office.

  S
houlder to shoulder, Aaron and Savino stood at attention. They didn’t look left, they didn’t look right. They simply waited.

  But Aaron knew she was there.

  He breathed in the coconut-infused floral scent of her. He heard the gentle catch of her breath as he stepped through the door. Most of all, he felt her, the sensual energy that seemed to spike the very air with passion’s call.

  A call he knew he’d hear for the rest of his life.

  “Gentlemen,” Admiral Granger greeted in a voice that boomed like cannon fire. “At ease.”

  As one, both men shifted to a wide stance, their hands clasped behind their backs and their eyes on the admiral.

  “Bryanna Radisson, this is one of the Navy’s best officers, a highly decorated SEAL and the leader of Poseidon. Lieutenant Commander Nic Savino, our newest public affairs specialist, Ms. Bryanna Radisson.”

  “Ma’am.”

  “Chief Petty Officer Ward, I understand that the two of you have already met.”

  Aaron thanked his training for keeping his face expressionless and tried not to think of keelhauling.

  “As you both know, Ms. Radisson will be launching a powerful public-relations campaign built on the concept of celebrating the fifty-fifth birthday of the Navy SEALs. Part of that campaign will touch on the unique role Poseidon plays in the SEAL structure.” The admiral outlined the scope, goals and advantages of the campaign. With every word, the knot in Aaron’s gut tightened. She’d pulled plenty of information about Poseidon. Their history, their numbers, the extent of their training.

  “The SEALs are the pride of the Navy,” Admiral Granger continued in that gruff tone. “This campaign will make them a beacon that will draw likely candidates to the team. The best, the strongest, the most able, they’ll all clamor to serve.”

  Aaron wanted to point out that they already clamored plenty. He saw right there on the chart Bryanna had included in her presentation that she’d noted the BUD/S attrition rate of eighty percent, her notes stressing the fact that even the best weren’t always good enough.

  “Now,” the admiral harrumphed. “I’m satisfied with the direction of this campaign. But Ms. Radisson is rather particular about how it’s to be presented. She wants Poseidon’s input and, ultimately, approval. With that said, Chief Ward, you’ll work directly with her to ensure this information cloaks the anonymity of the team and holds true to their vow to avoid recognition.”

  “Because of the exclusivity and power of Poseidon,” Bryanna interjected, “I feel it must be addressed with delicacy to avoid problems with the other SEALs as well as ensure continued cooperation and support from the Navy’s echelon.”

  She got it. She understood the threat of what she was doing. Aaron blinked. His heart raced. Even as he retraced the words, he wanted to give a loud huzzah of triumph. He wanted to grab hold of Bryanna and swing her into his arms, to strip her down to that silky skin and show her just how grateful he was.

  But the man staring at him was not only his superior officer, he was the uncle of the woman Aaron was currently visualizing naked.

  “I want this settled before eleven-hundred hours. With that in mind, the two of you can use my office to discuss the matter,” Admiral Granger said, giving them both a nod. “Savino, with me.”

  Aaron saw his commander’s grin out of the corner of his eye. Knew it was Savino’s mark of approval. For some, it wouldn’t matter. But to Aaron, it was everything. Poseidon, the brotherhood, they were more than his brothers, more than his team. They were his friends, his backup, his family.

  Something he’d failed to tell Bryanna before.

  But maybe he’d just been given a shot at something almost as rare as the perfect woman.

  A second chance.

  Now to make damn sure he made the most of it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “I’M SORRY,” AARON SAID as soon as the door closed behind his superior officers. “Perhaps I should have talked this out instead of walking out.”

  “Perhaps?” Bryanna asked. Obviously at home in her uncle’s office in a way that Aaron wasn’t, she hitched her hip onto the polished cherrywood desk and crossed one leg over the other. The move hiked the soft blue fabric of her skirt to show a mouthwatering expanse of golden thigh.

  Knowing how tempting she was, and how fast that temptation could lure him off track, Aaron forced his eyes to stay on her face. Which was tempting enough.

  “The promise of Poseidon having approval over anything that bears our name has a lot of merit. So, yes, perhaps.” He tried to read her expression but couldn’t tell what she was thinking behind those big, dark eyes. “Why didn’t you mention this before?”

  “Because I hadn’t thought of it before,” she admitted, lifting her hands in the air. “When I started this, I saw a job, an opportunity to do something important for a cause I strongly believed in. What I didn’t see was the need for someone looking over my shoulder or seeking feedback on my words or style choices.”

  “And you see the need now?”

  “No,” Bryanna replied with a laugh. “But something my uncle said sparked a thought. That thought didn’t change my plans for the SEAL birthday celebration, or for the various publications and developmental outlines I’ve drafted.”

  Aaron wanted to ask her how she was doing. He wanted to know how she’d slept after he left. If her uncle had given her a rough time and what sort of relationship they had. What he really wanted to ask was if she’d thought about him and what those thoughts were. He wanted to know if she wanted him and what it’d take to be with her again. He was desperate to find out if they had a shot at a future and how that possibility would work out.

  But his focus had to be his duty. His attention had to be on the mission at hand. He couldn’t let his team, or himself, down again by getting distracted.

  “What did he say and what did it change?” he made himself ask instead of any of the other questions poised on the tip of his tongue.

  For the first time since he’d looked at her, Bryanna glanced away. Her gaze cut to her hands twisting around each other in her lap. Then, with a small frown creased between her brows, she met his eyes again.

  “He mentioned the perception of exclusivity and prestige that Poseidon holds and how nervous it makes people.” Pulling her lower lip between her teeth, she worried it for a moment as she studied him. “Poseidon is powerful. Strong and focused and nearly invisible. That has to engender not only nerves, but also envy and perhaps fear in others.”

  Aaron shrugged. “We don’t brag, we don’t apologize. We are what we are. If what we are causes the enemy to fear, all the better. If what we are causes our competitors to strive harder, good for them.” He relaxed enough to rub one hand over his forehead and tried to find the words to make her understand. “But our focus is on our duty, on our mission. Bragging about our training, advertising who we are, negates what we do. Bragging comes from ego, and there’s no room for ego on our missions.”

  “I think I understand that.”

  She couldn’t. Aaron shook his head, but before he could say more, before he could figure out what more to say, she lifted one hand.

  “Perhaps,” she said, stressing the word in a way that did more to shut him up than the expression on her face, “perhaps you could read what I’ve written.”

  Bryanna reached behind her for a paper from the admiral’s desk. Aaron noticed her hand was trembling a little as she held it out.

  Aaron took it, his frown deepening as he read her outline. Then, a thorough man, he read it again to search for traps or loopholes before glancing at her again.

  Looked like he hadn’t needed to try so hard to find the right words.

  Once again, he should have trusted her.

  “You ran this by the admiral?”

  “I ran it by Captain Taylor of Publ
ic Affairs, who is in charge of the campaign.” Bryanna pursed her lips as she nodded at the pages. “Apparently his approval was all that was necessary to convince the admiral that this was the best route.”

  “You’re leaving Poseidon out of the campaign except for this brief mention here?” He pointed to the sidenote where she’d outlined the entirety of how Poseidon was to be included.

  “That’d be it. That’s why the admiral wanted Team Poseidon’s approval. I don’t think he believes you’ll be satisfied to be referred to as briefly and simply as ‘among the SEALs, those who strive to be elite.’”

  Aaron’s heart pounded loud enough to ring in his ears as he shook his head in wonder.

  Damned if he hadn’t found a woman as important to him as his career. One who, if her insights so far were any indication, would understand his devotion to his country, to his team. Understand and accept.

  Now that he’d found her, he’d have to get to work at keeping her.

  With that in mind, Aaron offered a smile—a charming one, dammit—and tilted his head toward the door.

  “Why don’t you tell me what led you to make this choice. Then we’ll meet with the admiral. After that, I’m off duty. We can go somewhere. Get a drink. Talk about what comes next.”

  * * *

  BRYANNA FELT AS if she was teetering on the edge of a precarious cliff and one move to either side would send her plummeting. Which way led to happiness was the question, though.

  “Why?” she asked, buying time. A hundred responses flew through Bryanna’s mind, but none could keep up with the nerves fluttering in her belly.

  Ever since that night, she’d tried to convince herself that her reaction to Aaron was pure romance. That she’d been so caught up in the idea of love at first sight that she’d built him up in her mind. That she’d made him more handsome, more heroic, more intriguing than he really was. Turned out she’d underplayed those traits in her attempt to get over him.