A SEAL's Secret (14 page)

“When she called two weeks ago to confirm the cruise details she asked about my availability into February.” Tessa grimaced. “I knew you were hoping to ease off the big promotions so I kept it vague.”

Livi’s stomach clenched, dread tiptoeing with sneaky fingers down her spine. Pauline was up to something. She’d been extra friendly when Livi joined her for Christmas dinner, she’d blown off this cruise for a meeting, and now she was tapping Tessa’s team for availability?

Not live television, Livi prayed. She’d hoped the idea of this new workout direction had been enough to derail Pauline from that particular train of thought. She’d been so hopeful, she’d never actually told her mother that she hated the idea and didn’t want to do it.

Needing to move, to shake off the conflicting feelings in her belly, Livi got up and paced. The stateroom was so small, though, that she could only take four steps either way.

Tessa watched the glinting ocean through their balcony door for a moment before asking, “What do you think she’s up to?”

Livi frowned, not sure.

“We’ll be making a video of the SEAL workout, but so far I’ve only outlined my program ideas.” And made copious notes of how incredibly beneficial the real SEAL program was—both for the men using it and for the women delighting in the results. Mitch’s body was a work of art and the things he did with it... Oh, my.

She didn’t think she wanted those in a video, though.

At least, not one available to the public.

“I have to finish adapting their workout to be doable by civilians. Then I’ll test it myself for a month or so to adjust and record the results,” she murmured, thinking through the process aloud as she paced. “I need to create modifications, pull together a control group to test the workout with and adjust again. At that point, we should be ready to film.”

There was more to it, of course. Things like set design, costuming and film crew. But Pauline handled all of that.

“I wonder if anyone knows how much work you put into these workouts,” Tessa mused. “Even the ones you don’t film take you months to develop and fine-tune before you teach them.”

“If someone is paying for my expertise, they deserve the best I can give them.” Livi shrugged, wishing her best was enough. She’d love to give up the parts that she sucked at.

She thought about Tessa’s question on the state of Stripped Down Fitness. Another three years and those loans would be paid. Livi wouldn’t—couldn’t—say it aloud. It’d be totally unappreciative and ungrateful. But in her secret heart of hearts, she dreamed that someday after she’d paid off the company’s debt, she could just let it go. No more videos, no more tours, no more big crowds.

She wouldn’t, of course. Too many people, including Tessa, had invested too much in her success.

“Whatever she’s up to, it can’t be that bad,” Tessa said encouragingly as she got to her feet. “You gave your mom very specific limits on what you would do this year and as much as she likes to act otherwise, it is your company.”

But that assurance did little to settle the worry in Livi’s stomach.

* * *

C
HOCOLATE
OR
ROSES
?

Mitch couldn’t decide.

Both were pretty traditional Valentine’s Day gifts. Was traditional lame? Nah. But unimaginative, maybe.

Should he go a different route? Or just find some way to give traditional a little more appeal? Did she like roses? He’d have to find out. He still had time. He’d get her favorite flowers and ask Romeo where to get the best chocolate. Something decadent and fancy.

Something that would taste amazing when he licked it off Livi’s silken body. He imagined her lying on her bed surrounded by rose petals, the moonlight glinting off her bare skin. He’d drizzle it over the fullness of her breasts, watching as it slid down her body. And then he’d follow the path with his tongue.

Or better yet, he’d fill her tub with chocolate syrup.

Mitch grinned. Now
that
was imaginative.

“Donovan!”

Damn.

Mitch blinked to clear the fantasy from his brain and saw the small desert village, smoke billowing as flames poured out the windows across from him.

Growling low in his throat, he dropped his head, his helmet making a dull thud against the adobe wall.

“You wanna haul out the dead bodies now? Or wait until you’re finished with your little daydream?” Captain Mahoney’s voice buzzed with irritation through Mitch’s headset.

The CSAR trainer was a hard-ass who hated slackers, and Mitch knew he’d be paying for his inattention. As he should. Combat Search and Rescue was serious and deserved 110 percent of his focus. Mitch and his team were here to train, but also to look at integrating new elements into their own expanded training program.

A program that required focus, damn it.

“You back with us, Donovan?”

“Yes, sir,” he responded tightly.

“Initiate rescue.”

“Initiating,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

Mitch allowed himself one last vicious curse before putting it aside. Shutting out all outside thoughts, closing down any random emotions, he spent the next ten minutes doing what he was here to do. Find his men.

The last one was deep inside a flaming hovel of a building. Mitch needed to crawl on his belly and blow up a wall to rescue him.

Mitch crouched in the tiny cellar, giving the lounging man a long look.

“You dead?”

“Nah. I’m invincible,” Romeo said with a grin. But the timer on his helmet showed that invincible wouldn’t have held out against Mitch’s distraction.

Mitch didn’t say a word. Just hefted his failure onto his shoulders along with Romeo’s body and headed out of the smoke-filled room.

Twenty minutes later, rescue effected, orders issued, his team changed gear for the next round and Mitch glanced at Romeo.

“Better it happen in training,” his friend said quietly.

Mitch’s jaw worked. Romeo was trying to cut him a break.

“Better it didn’t happen at all.”

“We train, we practice, we hone and we perfect. We’re the best of the best and we dedicate ourselves to that.” Gabriel looked out over the Nevada desert, his eyes unfathomable. “But in the end, we’re all at the mercy of one simple reality.”

“Is this where you tell me the reality is that we’re all human? To accept that we can’t be perfect or that everyone makes a mistake?” Ripping his helmet off, Mitch swiped a hand over his head and gave his friend a hard look.

“What? No way.” Looking insulted, Romeo shook his head. “I’m going into battle with you. I expect you to be inhumanly perfect with no freaking mistakes. That’s my ass on the line next to you, bro.”

His jaw tight, Mitch took the well-deserved smackdown. He didn’t offer an excuse. He didn’t apologize or promise to do better.

“So what’s the reality?” he finally asked.

“The reality is that we’re men. And even the best of the best men have dicks. We’re led by them.” With that piece of profound wisdom, and a slap on the back, Romeo grabbed his gear.

Dumbfounded, it took Mitch a few moments to do the same.

As they made their way through the naval air base to the next round of maneuvers, Mitch muttered, “I’m not being led by my dick.”

“Sure, you are,” Romeo shot back cheerfully. Then, just before they reached the others, he stopped and gave Mitch an intense look. “Just be careful, Irish. You’re standing on a cliff right now. You’ve got good balance, but if you fall, you lose.”

“Lose what?”

“That’s the problem. You never know till you hit the ground.”

* * *

M
ITCH
WAS
STILL
considering Romeo’s words two days later when he joined his grandfather for lunch. Distinguished in his dark blue suit, Admiral Walter Donovan fit right in with the upscale country-club-style restaurant. The visit had been a surprise—straight off the training field, Mitch’s fatigues didn’t blend nearly as well.

That his grandfather was in civilian clothes meant this was a personal visit. That he’d flown in to a remote air base to have it said he felt it was a priority.

The tension tightening the back of Mitch’s neck warned him to proceed with caution.

“I’m surprised to see you on the west coast again so soon,” Mitch said after they’d placed their orders.

“Some things are best discussed in person.”

Ah. Good. Mitch leaned back in his chair, glad they’d be getting right to the point. He hated when these things took until dessert.

“Such as?”

“As you know, no man is alone in the military. Our strengths come from careful planning, considered choices and, yes, the occasional sacrifice.” His avuncular smile indicating this was a good ol’ grandfather-to-grandson chat, the Admiral shrugged. “It’s come to my attention there might be some factors that need to be addressed going forward. Mistakes that need to be rectified, if you will.”

For the most part, Mitch had led an exemplary career. His record was spotless, his reputation the same. That someone had seen fit to tattle to his grandfather that he’d lost focus on a training mission was pathetic enough. But that it had mandated an in-person discussion was ridiculous.

“You’re a valuable asset to your country, and as such, you can’t make the same choices other men do. Not if you’re going to reach your full potential,” the Admiral continued to pontificate. “Now, as a man, I understand, but as your grandfather, as your mentor, I do think it’d be in your best interest to remove yourself from certain temptations.”

What the hell?

“Wait.” Mitch held up his hand. “You’re talking about my relationship with Olivia Kane?”

“I prefer to call it an association.”

“Call it what you want. It’s a relationship.” His eyes locked on the older man’s, Mitch leaned forward. “A serious relationship.”

“So my resources indicate.”

“Resources?” Mitch scowled. “My mother has squids spying on me?”

“Your mother is concerned—rightfully so—that you might make an ill-advised choice that will not only impact your happiness but your career.”

“This is the same mother whose been trying to marry me off since I turned legal age?”

And then it hit him.

“The ill-advised choice being associating with the wrong person,” he stated. “She doesn’t approve of Livi.”

“She has legitimate concerns.” Seeing the stubborn jut of Mitch’s chin, his grandfather tilted his head. “The woman in question is divorced. Her name is linked with strippers. And she makes her living in the entertainment industry. While there were no charges filed, her company was involved in shady practices with investors a few years back. Those, young man, are facts worth being concerned over.”

How dare he judge Livi? Fury surged in Mitch. He held his clenched fists beneath the table, trying to keep all of his anger in check.

“Facts, sir?” Mitch carefully smoothed his thoughts, knowing that emotional reactions were often a fatal luxury in battle. “From my perspective, your interpretation of the information at hand is somewhat biased.”

“Is that what you think?” With just a shift of his shoulders, the Admiral traded avuncular grandfather for superior officer. For the first time he could recall, Mitch resented it. If advice didn’t work, orders would? That was fine when it came to his career. But this was his personal life. “You’re about to join the most prestigious and powerful Special Missions Unit in the world. This isn’t the time to be distracted by a woman, especially one who brings so little to your career.”

Anger, irritation, outrage—none of which he’d ever felt toward his grandfather before—now pounded through his system. But he refused to discuss Livi or his private life in this context. If the Admiral wanted to have an official conversation, that’s what they’d have.

“I made it to the selection phase for DEVGRU. That doesn’t mean I’ve been invited to attend operations training,” Mitch corrected meticulously. “Nor does it mean that if invited, I’ll choose to go.”

“Because of this woman.”

“Because I’m not sure it’s where I’d do the most good.” And yeah, although Mitch would take a bullet to the gut before he’d admit it to his grandfather, because of Livi. “The program we’re developing in covert operations is one I’m passionate about, one I have a lot to contribute to and one I can see huge potential in. Doesn’t that deserve equal weight in the decision?”

“No, it does not.”

“Why?”

“Because developing yet another covert ops training program in post-wartime does not carry the same prestige as DEVGRU. Nor will it strategically position you for your next lateral move.” The Admiral studied his grandson’s face, and seeing the anger Mitch wasn’t trying to hide, shook his head. “I’ve proudly guided and supported your career since before its inception. But if you now choose to ignore my advice, I can only assume it means you no longer want my support.”

With that the Admiral got to his feet and walked out.

Leaving Mitch with a ball of anger in his gut and a taste of bitterness in his mouth. And, of course, the bill.

11

B
ARELY
A
MONTH
after her conversation with Tessa, Livi found out exactly how bad it could be when Pauline pushed the limits.

She’d been putting off the meeting since she’d returned from the cruise, but Pauline had insisted they needed to talk. Livi parked in the driveway in front of her mother’s elegant townhouse just as her cell phone rang. Trying to shake off the exhaustion she’d been dragging around lately, Livi glanced at the display. And just like that, her fatigue, her worries, everything faded.

“If it isn’t Super SEAL,” she greeted, putting the call through her car’s Bluetooth speakers so she could touch up her makeup before meeting her mom. “Are you in California?”

Every time they’d spoken over the last month he’d been somewhere else. Since he hadn’t said where, Livi knew it wasn’t one of the naval bases. The idea of him being off on a mission was a little worrisome, but she told herself she could handle it.

“I’ll be en route soon.”

“I can’t wait.” Livi smiled, angling her mirror as she slicked a fresh coat of Morning Taupe on her lips.

“I’m calling to check your availability for tomorrow,” he said, his tone stiff and just a little formal. Still in military mode? Or with someone?

“Available for what, specifically?” Livi teased.

“I have a debt to pay,” he reminded her. “I thought we could address that tomorrow evening.”

A debt?

“Our date?” she remembered. “I’m pretty sure you paid that off.”

“Negative. That payment was delayed,” he reminded her, his words getting just a little lower. “We’ll regroup and retry tomorrow, 1900 hours?”

Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day. It was all Livi could do not to do a happy dance right there in the car.

“Will you be in uniform?” she asked in a husky voice. She got so turned on thinking about him in uniform. Even more so thinking of stripping him out of uniform.

“No.”

Livi hesitated. It was just one word, a simple answer. Why did she feel he was angry?

“That’s okay. I can imagine you in it.” She paused before adding, “I’ll be in nothing but my red stilettos.”

The silence was electric. Livi pressed the tip of her tongue to her upper lip to keep from laughing as she imagined him in some barracks somewhere, surrounded by tough guys while he tried not to react.

“That’s fine.”

Fine?

Livi frowned. Usually he flirted back, playing word games using their own little sex code. It wasn’t a very complex code. She was sure any SEAL—or Boy Scout—could break it. But it’d been fun.

“Will you be on the west coast for long?” She didn’t want to make a big deal of it, but she’d so love to spend more time with him. She’d love even more to know he wanted to do the same.

“You know I can’t divulge that.” He didn’t snap or sound aggressive. He simply stated the words in a flat tone that sent chills down her spine.

He must have been in an official setting. Or maybe just coming off a major mission and still in the fighter mindset. At least, that’s what she told herself.

But she couldn’t resist asking, “Is everything okay?”

“Fine.” A second later, he repeated in a softer tone, “Fine.”

It wasn’t. Livi was sure it wasn’t, but she knew better than to push. Glad she wasn’t the issue, but wishing she could comfort, she did the only thing she could. Offer him a distraction.

“Be sure to bring your appetite,” she told him. “I’m adding a little whipped cream to tomorrow night’s ensemble.”

Mitch cleared his throat. “Make that 1800.”

She was still frowning when the line went dead.

Before she angled it back in place, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Despite the worry, she looked happy. A little pale, since she was still fighting some sort of tummy bug that she’d picked up a week ago, but her eyes were bright and her skin practically glowed.

Happy was a good look on her.

And she was getting really good at this, she decided as she slid from her car. She learned that not knowing things didn’t bother her, and that even with most of the details of his day-to-day off conversational limits, they still had plenty to talk about. She missed seeing him, of course, but the phone calls a couple of times a week, the naughty video chats, kept the distance in check. She could definitely see herself doing this for quite a while, Livi realized. Because it felt good. It felt right.

It felt so good that maybe, soon, she’d even tell people about the two of them. Or maybe she’d keep him to herself for just a little longer.

Laughing, Livi let herself into her mom’s place and called out a greeting. But her giddy delight didn’t make it past the iced tea and crudités her mother had laid out.

“You did what?” she asked, having to force the hoarse words through the knot in her throat.

“I pulled in a few favors and arranged for you to shoot your Sexy SEAL Bodies fitness video on the Navy base in Coronado with an actual team of SEALs,” Pauline said, her words ringing with triumph. She leaned forward in her leather chair, the chrome accents glinting as she gave Livi’s knee a tap. “You’ll begin shooting the third week of February.”

“The third...” Livi pressed the tips of her fingers against her temple, hoping the pressure would ease the shooting pain. “Mother, that’s next week.”

“Time is of the essence, of course. We lost a lot of momentum with the holidays and the cruise. But we’ll make up for it now. Or rather, starting tomorrow, since I’ve arranged a little dinner for all of the parties involved.”

“I have plans tomorrow,” Livi protested in a choked voice.

“You can change them, darling.” Waving away Livi’s red stilettos and whipped-cream dreams, Pauline bounded to her feet.

Apparently too excited to sit still, she started reeling off the myriad promotions, marketing angles and opportunities she’d lined up as she paced her living room.

Black leather, chrome and glass all played a quiet backdrop to the virulently loud art scattered around the space. Crimson and orange slashed across a canvas on one wall while twisting metal seemed to be rising from the ground across the room, ready to grab unsuspecting guests. Add Pauline’s turquoise dress—and her bombshell news—to the mix and it made Livi feel ill.

“Isn’t it fabulous? I’ve never had a deal come together this quickly. All I had to do was mention that Trent Evans had died trying to be a SEAL, and suddenly the gentleman in the Public Affairs office was ready to bend over backward to make this happen for us.” Pauline rolled her eyes. “I think he’s planning to build a campaign of his own out of the idea of giving back to one of their own.”

Stunned, sure her mouth was hanging open, Livi could only shake her head. It took a lot of effort to find her voice, even more to keep from swearing when she did.

“Let me get this straight.” She cleared her throat of all the cussing going on in her head. “All of my life, you refused to talk about, provide information or even acknowledge my father. Now you’re suddenly ready to throw him on the altar as a sacrifice to the Gods of Getting Ahead?”

Pauline smoothed a hand over her hair, checking to be sure it was all tidy in its low ponytail as she considered the question.

Then she gave a sharp nod.

“If they’ll have him, yes. Light the sacrificial flames. He might as well do something to finally contribute to your life, don’t you think? And his name made a difference with that captain. The man pulled a few strings, put me in touch with a few connections, and voilà.” Pauline waved her hand in the air with a snap. “We’re good to go.”

“No,” Livi corrected, biting the word off with a snap of her teeth. “
We
are not good to go.
We
are not ready to begin. Without even getting into the moral issues that your methods bring up, there are plenty of other reasons this isn’t ready to go.”

No longer flitting around her room, Pauline stood in front of her daughter with an assessing expression on her face. Livi didn’t know what she was looking for, or what she saw. And for once, she didn’t care. This entire conversation was making her ill. She wanted it over with.

“I’ve barely written my adaption of the program. I haven’t had time to work through the exercises on anything but paper, nor have I written the script. I don’t have a workout crew, and even if I did, next week is too soon for them to know the program, too.”

There were other reasons, of course. But after Pauline’s reaction to Livi’s comments about using Trent, Livi figured she’d keep her personal reasons to herself. Instead she arched her brow, hoping against hope that logic and reason would prevail. Experience, and the clawing nausea in her stomach, warned her otherwise.

“What’s to write? The SEAL program is already written.” Offering Livi a stiff smile, Pauline sat down again and did what she always did...focused on the situation at hand. No need to bring pesky things like emotions into the fray. “Their workout is famous, Olivia. Why would it need to be adapted?”

“Why?”
Livi bit her lip, knowing a tantrum wouldn’t help the situation. But man, she wished she could throw one, anyway. “A high school drama teacher doesn’t hit the set, challenging Johnny Depp for the role of Jack Sparrow. A piano instructor wouldn’t shove her way into Beethoven’s house, plop down at his piano and charge people to listen to her play his symphony.”

“Isn’t Johnny Depp finished with that role? And correct me if I’m wrong, but Beethoven is dead.” Pauline waited a beat, probably to give Livi time to finish grinding her teeth, then leaned forward to pat her daughter’s knee. “Don’t sell yourself short, darling. You’re quite well-known in your own right. Your influence rating is even on par with some professional athletes, and you know all there is to know about exercise and fitness. This is the next logical step. You’ll be famous.”

But she didn’t want to be famous.

As if an inky black wave had engulfed her, everything went dark and Livi felt the room spin. She gulped air, trying to level out her system. Passing out wouldn’t convince Pauline of anything. But something had to.

Because the only thing Livi wanted to avoid more than fame was ruining what she had with Mitch. And her mother’s latest scheme definitely wouldn’t go over well. She’d seen how protective he was of the actual SEAL workout. And how unenthusiastic he’d been about her making another program based on it. He’d basically told her to stay out of his career not ten minutes ago. She was pretty sure this project would fly in the face of that request.

Still, thinking of Mitch calmed Livi. He was the most confident, self-assured person she’d ever met. How would he handle this? He’d tell her to take charge and put her wants and needs first. Ready to see how that felt, Livi took a deep breath. Once her emotions settled down, she offered her most composed, let’s-be-reasonable smile.

“You should have discussed this with me, Mother.”

“I’m discussing it with you now, aren’t I?”

“After the fact.”

“Of course. If I’d told you what I was planning, you’d have worked yourself into a nervous frenzy. This way you don’t have time to be concerned.”

“Right. So cutting me out of negotiations and keeping this project hush-hush until it was a done deal was, what? For my own good?” Forgetting being composed and reasonable, Livi crossed her arms over her chest, tapping one booted foot against the glossy ebony floor as she gave her mother a challenging stare. “You did an end run around me, making decisions you knew I’d be unhappy with.”

Unable to tell a direct lie, Pauline took a deep breath of her own this time, sucking the air through pinched nostrils because her lips were clamped shut.

Livi grimaced. She should get up and walk out before her mother managed to unclamp her mouth. But suddenly there was more at stake than just this video arrangement—although that was enough on its own. She was sick and tired of trying to make everyone else happy at the expense of her own comfort.

Livi’s fists were clenched as much against the surge of anger in her gut as against the nausea.

It had to end.

“I didn’t agree to film on base or with the actual SEALs. I don’t want to do this format or take the workout in this direction,” she stated. Even as part of her cried out against everything that’d mean giving up, and another part freaked at the idea of letting people down, Livi set her chin. “I want out of this deal.”

“And how do you propose to get out of it?” Pauline asked, her words so cold they might as well have dripped icicles.

“I don’t care how you do it,” Livi dismissed. “That’s for you to deal with.”

“For me to...” Looking as if her daughter had just told her she was quitting her job to be a kitten skinner, Pauline’s face froze in shock before turning pale white. It only took a second, though, for anger to stain her cheeks red. “So once again, you want no input in the running of your own business except to complain? That’s not how this works, Olivia.”

Livi knew she’d ignored a lot of the elements of running Stripped Down Fitness, but damn it, that didn’t mean it wasn’t still her company. Pauline worked for her. Not the other way around.

“I’m tired of how things used to work. I’m tired of other people running my life. First Derrick, now you. It has to end.”

“If you’re unhappy with my management, that’s fine. We can end it,” Pauline snapped. “But first I’m going to remind you of a couple of things.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” Livi rolled her eyes, feeling as if she’d degenerated into a mouthy teenager with braces on her teeth. She knew she was being obnoxious. She didn’t even know why, since this sort of behavior wouldn’t get her anywhere with her mother. All it’d do was make the situation worse. If she wanted to get through to Pauline, she had to be reasonable, logical.

She knew all of that.

But she simply couldn’t make herself care.

“Is this where you tell me how you saved me and my career? This is the part where you take credit for my success and point out all of the ways I should be thanking you?” Gee, didn’t that sound familiar.

Pauline goggled.

That was the only possible way to describe her slack-jawed, wide-eyed look of absolute shock.