A Sexy SEAL Novella Anthology (17 page)

“Because sometimes orders are at odds with
the mission objective?” Sam repeated when Noah went silent.

“Sometimes. And sometimes, not following
orders is treason.”

“Dude,” Sam laughed. “Way to keep it
confusing.”

“There’s no pat answer. That’s what I’m
trying to tell you. You’ve got to do what is right for you. Only
you know if you can balance the demands of your reassignment and
marriage.”

Comprehension replaced amused frustration in
his eyes as Sam nodded.

“I respect Eli. The man is a machine and I’m
damned glad he’s on our team,” Sam said slowly. “But I figure we
all have our strengths and our weaknesses. Maybe distractions are
his and that’s why he chose the route he did. But it’s not the one
for me.”

“Then there you go.” Noah stepped forward to
slap Sam on the shoulder. “Now if we’re done with SEAL philosophy
one-oh-one, I want a beer.”

“Almost done.” Looking a little abashed but
determined, Sam wrapped one arm around Noah’s shoulder, turning the
return slap into a manly guy-hug. “Thanks.”

Since clearing his throat would be a
giveaway that he was a little choked up, Noah just nodded.

At ease now, they strode into the ballroom
together, automatically heading for the bar without needing to
consult each other on their destination. Dodging greetings slowed
them down, so they’d only made it halfway to destination: beer
before Sam angled his head.

“Did you ever meet Tansy Berk?”

Following his brother’s direction, Noah
narrowed his eyes. It only took Noah a moment to connect the name
with the long, leggy brunette standing at the food buffet with
Sam’s pretty Bryanna.

“Macy’s sister, right? Twin?” This time it
didn’t even take a moment to make the connections. “Eli dumped Macy
when he earned his trident, right?”

“Yeah.” Sam shouldered his way up to the
bar, lifting two fingers then pointing at the draft he wanted
before giving Noah a serious look. “Gotta say, big brother, I’m
glad you didn’t do that. I actually forgot about that pledge until
Eli reminded me a few weeks ago. But we both know he had it front
and center in his mind, so he knew he was going to dump her when he
hooked up with Macy Berk. That’s kind of a dick move.”

Nonplussed, Noah could only stare. Had his
brother just meant to insult him?

Thankfully, Sam had already turned to thank
another well-wisher so he missed Noah’s reaction. He’d forgotten
that only he and Gwen knew that their relationship had been
anything more than friendly neighbors.

So the insult hadn’t been intentional.

But Sam was right.

It had been a total dick move.

It took every bit of Gwen’s nerve to walk
back into that ballroom instead of scurrying home to hide. Well,
nerve and the fact that when the elevator reached the lobby, she’d
realized that she’d have to explain why she’d ran when she later
faced the dozen or more people up there she knew, including
Russell.

Besides, running would only prove Noah’s
power over her. And that was the kind of information she figured
she should keep to herself.

Still, it’d taken some focused deep
breathing to convince herself to take the elevator back up to the
ballroom. A quick stop at the coat check for her purse, a few
seconds with her hairbrush and emergency makeup kit and she’d felt
like she’d donned a suit of armor.

Nobody looking at her now would know that
she’d almost run away.

Or that she’d recently been a moaning puddle
of ecstasy. The memory of that ecstasy sent a shiver through her.
Then, because she wasn’t sure she could form a complete sentence
yet, Gwen cast a quick look around to make sure nobody she knew
well was nearby. To be safe, she headed toward the least populated
area of the ballroom, sidestepping with her back to the wall until
she reached the corner filled with potted trees.

It wasn’t until she almost tripped over the
leg of a table of party favors that it hit her just how pathetic
she was behaving.

This was ridiculous.

Gwen shoved her heavy fall of hair off her
shoulder and rolled her eyes. She was hiding behind a six-foot
topiary shaped like a swan.

Why?

Because was afraid someone would guess that
she’d had sex with Noah Morelli?

As if.

Nobody had guessed that they’d had months of
daily—sometimes even hourly—sex three years ago. They’d once had it
in the closet at her parents’ house during her birthday party
because he’d claimed that he couldn’t figure out how to wrap a pair
of orgasms. Not one single person had noticed then, or that time at
the beach or even on the trip to Tahoe.

Gwen’s relieved sigh was so deep that she
ruffled the swan. Ready to brave the crowd—well, everyone but
Noah—she started to shift out from behind the swan.

And almost screamed when there was a body in
her way.

“Gwen? Is this where you’ve been?” Russell
asked as he angled his head around the topiary to see her better.
“I was looking all over for you. I figured you’d be at the dessert
table, mingling or tearing up the dance floor. The last place I’d
expect to find you is in a corner.”

Too busy thumping one fist against her chest
to try and slow her racing heart to answer, Gwen could only lift
her free hand in a modified shrug.

Just as she took a deep, calming breath, he
glanced over his shoulder and said, “They’re bringing around
champagne so Noah must be up soon. We don’t want to miss it.”

“Noah’s...?” Up? Already? She resisted the
urge check Russell’s watch to see if it’d even been a half hour
since she and Noah had done the nasty in the closet.

“Up. You know, giving a toast. He’s standing
as Sam’s best man.”

“Oh.” Gwen managed a smile—mostly at herself
for imagining a roomful of people toasting Noah’s sexual prowess
with champagne. She started to scoot out from behind the protective
shield of the swan but had to stop to tug her dress free from one
of the pine-scented branches. “Great. It’s toast time.”

That was close to leaving time, wasn’t
it?

“Toast first, before dinner and dessert. You
know Bryanna, always switching things up.”

Toast. Dinner.
Then
dessert?

That’d take hours.

Hours, in the same room as Noah.

Close enough to see him, to hear him. And
know that he was off limits.

Near enough to touch him, to feel him. And
know that all it’d take was a nod of her head for him to take her
on another wild, sexual ride.

She pressed two fingers to her temple, her
system torn between heartbreak and horny.

“Are you okay?” Russell’s charming smile
faded, concern lighting his blue eyes as he studied her face. “Are
you feeling ill?”

Yes. Say yes, it’s the perfect escape, her
mind screamed.

She’d tell him she was sick.

The way her stomach was dancing from
excitement to dread and back, she just might
be
sick.

But guilt stopped her from using the
pretext. If she did, Russell would insist on driving her home, even
if it meant missing most of his sister’s engagement party. It was
bad enough she’d abandoned him for so much of the evening already.
She couldn’t ruin the rest of it, too.

So instead of an excuse to escape, Gwen
offered a shaky smile.

“I’m okay. I was just...” What? Hiding?
“Taking a break from all the celebrating.”

How lame did that sound? Gwen tried to turn
her cringe into a smile but wasn’t sure she managed it.

“I understand.”

He did?

“Celebrations like these are rough
sometimes. But I think I have a solution you’ll enjoy.” After
adjusting the cuffs of his suit jacket, Russell offered his elbow.
“Lets find somewhere private and talk.”

Puzzling a little over why he’d think
celebrations were rough, Gwen tucked her hand into the crook of his
arm and let him escort her out of her corner. It wasn’t until
they’d crossed the dining area, detoured around the dance floor and
were heading for the handful of small, intimate tables set for two
in one corner that she remembered Bryanna and Noah’s predictions
that Russell would be proposing tonight.

Uh oh.

That desperate urge to escape hit her
again.

“Russell—”

“Here, have a seat,” he interrupted as they
reached the furthest table. He pulled out the gilt chair with its
tufted satin cushion and waited for Gwen to sit.

So she sat.

“Russell—”

“Hold on a second. I’ll get us
champagne.”

Okay, now she was panicking.

Maybe Bryanna was wrong, though. Maybe
Russell wasn’t thinking of her that way. And he was a reticent kind
of guy, so even if he was, he’d wait until they had actual privacy
to propose, wouldn’t he?

As promised, he was back in just a second
with two glasses of champagne. Instead of sitting opposite her, he
pulled the chair next to hers and sat so their knees brushed,
proving that he apparently considered this to be just private
enough.

Gwen wanted to stop him.

Why, oh why hadn’t she stuck with her New
Year’s tradition and stayed home, where it was safe from ex-lovers
and surprise proposals?

All she wanted to do now was run. But she
didn’t think her knees would hold out, and she knew her stilettos
wouldn’t.

So she went for the bluff.

“Did you want to discuss work?” she asked
brightly, gulping down champagne so fast the bubbles burned her
throat.

“Actually I wanted to discuss moving our
relationship to the next level.”

“The next level?” Gwen’s stomach pitched
into the toes of her double strapped Zanottis. This was it. Bryanna
had been right. In Russell-speak, that was the equivalent of a
major declaration.

“We’re good together, Gwen. Everyone who
knows us thinks so. I’m sure your friends have been as vocal as
mine in their desire that we hurry along in building our future
together,” he pointed out earnestly.

She melted a little. He was really so sweet.
She didn’t have the heart to tell him that her friends had never
once brought up marriage or mentioned Russell that way.

“Do you really think rewarding nagging by
giving in is a good idea?” she asked with a pained smile.

“If that’s all it was, then no, of course
not.” He shook his head, his expression so serious she knew he
hadn’t taken her words as a joke. “But we have much more than that.
Enough to consider spending our lives together.”

Oh, God. He really was proposing.

She bit her lip, knowing she had to stop
him. Still, Gwen had to swallow a few times before she could find
her voice.

“Russell, I care about you a lot. But I
don’t love you,” she said quietly.

She winced, her eyes locked on his face.

His smile didn’t shift. His earnest
expression didn’t change. He simply shrugged.

“There are things more worthy than love that
go into making a good marriage,” he told her lifting their joined
hands. “We’re compatible in so many other ways. We enjoy each
other’s company and we work well together. I’d like to believe we’d
be good together if we just gave it a try.”

“But...” She carefully slid her hands free
and clasped them together on her lap. “Those are great reasons to
be friends, which we are. But to be... Lovers?”

Her brain simply wouldn’t compute that
image. They’d never even kissed—not in a sexy, let’s test the
chemistry way. The closest she’d come to seeing Russell naked was
high school swim team.

“As I said, we are very well-suited, Gwen.
Compatibility is just as important in bed as anywhere else in
life.”

That he automatically equated sex with bed
and not closets or countertops or the backseat of a jeep told Gwen
everything she needed to know about their compatibility.

“But what about passion? The edgy need that
makes you slide into sexual fantasies at inopportune times?
Desperate desire, obsessive lust, undeniable cravings?” All the
feelings she had for Noah. Even in their years apart, she’d had
those feelings. And now that she’d tasted him again? Now that she’d
felt the power of what he could do to her? No matter how much it
hurt, she knew she could never settle for less.

“You think passion really matters so much?”
The doubt on his face was echoed in his tone.

“Don’t you?”

“I don’t.” Then, as if he’d found his feet
again on a rocking ship, the doubt on his face slid away, leaving
just his frown. “Friendship matters. Similar interests and
temperaments matter. Don’t you think it’s more important to spend
your life with someone you know you’ll be comfortable with than to
risk the pain that messy emotional drama can bring?”

Why did he have to keep echoing her
thoughts? She sighed. He was forcing her to face those questions
and her own emotions.

“To risk it for sex?” she asked quietly. “Or
for love?”

“Either? Both?”

Worrying her lower lip between her teeth,
Gwen searched her heart carefully. When her eyes met his again, she
was sure her answer was right.

“Sex, even great sex, isn’t worth
heartbreak,” she said. “But love? Love is worth waiting for,
risking for, living for.”

Russell gave her a long look but his
comfortable expression didn’t change.

“You do realize that love often leads to
heartbreak, don’t you?”

Of course she did. After all, her heart had
been in pieces for three years.

Before she could say anything, though, he
continued.

“We can be good together, Gwen. We can make
each other happy. What do you say?”

“I wish I could say yes,” she told him
softly, laying her hand over the back of his.

“But you can’t,” he said, his tone easy and
reasonable.

“I don’t want to hurt you, to hurt us.” She
pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. He was such
a good friend. And then there was the fact that he was her
boss.