A Sexy SEAL Novella Anthology (9 page)

Nothing she did would change them.

Fancy meals, romantic evenings, wild
sex.

Expensive lingerie, wine she couldn’t afford
and more wild sex.

Hot wild sex. Sweet wild sex. Intense wild
sex. Every kind of sex she knew how to give, and even some she
didn’t.

She’d done everything she could to keep
him.

But everything obviously wasn’t enough.

Bryanna’s mouth trembled, her throat tight
and her stomach knotted with misery. Needing an excuse to hide her
face, she kneeled down to scoop bits of eggs into a pile.

She couldn’t keep pretending that she could
make her dream come true, that she could keep Sam. He was going to
finish BUD/S. In six months, he’d graduate. He’d get his trident.
He’d end their relationship.

But that was six months away.

A part of her wanted to wait. To see if she
could come up with some new sexual position or erotic temptation
that would change his mind. To make the most of what little amount
of time she had left.

Except she wouldn’t make the most of it. She
knew herself too well. She’d be miserable. Eyes burning, she
straightened, throwing the handful of ruined food in the trash.

She glanced at Sam, noticing that his
irritation with her hadn’t stopped him from eating his toast and
finishing the entire pot of coffee.

All of a sudden, she wanted to throw the pan
at him again.

“I’ve got to go. I’ve got to work,” she
said, knowing she was babbling but too desperate to leave to try to
communicate clearly. “I’m going to work.”

“Why don’t we settle this first?” He didn’t
sound angry. He obviously wasn’t upset. She hated that.

“There’s nothing to settle. I was upset last
night. We had plans for dinner and to decorate the tree. It hurt me
when you blew them off to go out with my brother.” She took a deep
breath, then forced herself to continue. “It hurts more to know
that you value Eli more than you do me. His opinions, his company,
his advice. It doesn’t matter if they are right for you or not. If
Eli says it, you do it.”

“Funny.” Sam gave a rueful half-laugh and
shook his head. “I’m pretty sure your brother was worried about the
exact same thing.”

“That he’d screw up your life?”

“That you would. He also said that you’d set
down an ultimatum,” he said in a tight voice. “So what’s it going
to be, Bry? I give up my friends or you’ll leave? Maybe I quit the
Navy or you won’t put out. Why don’t you lay down these new rules
of yours?”

Her bottom lip trembled, but not nearly as
much as her heart did. Bryanna had to clench her hands together
tightly to keep them from shaking. Or worse, throwing something
again.

Because she’d never set rules, because she’d
never felt confident enough of them that she thought she could.
She’d never had enough faith in his feelings, in their
relationship, to ask for a damned thing. She simply sat on the
sidelines, accepting any crumbs he’d throw her way.

So why should she be surprised when that’s
all he offered was crumbs?

Bryanna wanted to curl up and cry.

But she didn’t.

“Where the hell are you going?” he demanded
as she walked out of the kitchen.

Needing the distance, desperate to clear her
head and figure out how much of this was her own fault for
expecting the impossible while not bothering to ask for it, she
walked faster.

“I’m going to work. You can figure out how
to get back to your car. Or you can stay here.” Numb, so glad for
the numb, she glanced over her shoulder. “Or maybe you should call
Eli. I’m sure he’ll tell you how to fix this situation. Isn’t that
his job? Telling you how to run your life?”

“Goddamn women.”

“All women?”

Easily ignoring what he considered a stupid
question, Sam continued.

“Soft and delicate, sexy and strong.
Delicious, dedicated and damned hard to resist. They lure a man in,
turn his mind into mush and make his body a slave to their wiles.”
He stopped for a moment to consider the many amazing wiles of
Bryanna Spencer. Luckily he wasn’t drunk enough yet to recite them
out loud to Bryanna’s big brother.

Sam wasn’t as sure that Russell could kick
his ass as easily as Eli could, but all things considered, he’d
rather not take his chances.

“Dude, don’t you think you got enough last
night?”

Sam squinted his bleary eyes, waiting for
the two figures across the table to settle into whichever one they
wanted to be. Then he shrugged.

“Last night I was celebrating,” he said,
setting his words out as carefully as he would explosives. “Today,
I’m drowning my sorrows.”

“Is that why you called me for a ride from
my sister’s place? Because you have sorrows?”

“Pissed her off,” Sam muttered into his mug,
surprised to see it empty but for a ring of foam.

“So un-piss her off,” Russell said with a
laugh. Easy for him to shrug it off, Sam thought morosely. He
wasn’t still picking green-speckled eggs out of his clothes.
“Bryanna doesn’t hold grudges. But if you’re looking to fix
whatever’s got you in the sorrow-drowning mode, you might want to
slow down on the booze.”

The question was, did he want to fix it?

Before Sam could figure that out—hell,
before he could fumble his way through the many facets to the
question—a shadow fell over the table.

Feeling like they weighed two-tons each, Sam
lifted his eyes to see who it was. Then, biting back a growl, he
dropped them again.

“Russ, what’re you doing here?” Eli said it
in the same way Sam imagined he’d say his brother was impinging on
sacred ground.

“Sam needed a ride and a friendly ear.”

“This is a SEAL bar.”

Even in his blurry state of mind, Sam knew
that Eli would be happier if there was a quartermaster at the door,
limiting access to navy personnel only. He figured Russell knew,
too, but the other man simply shrugged.

“This is where Sam’s car was. Maybe instead
of hanging out and being a friend, I should have recognized my
place and dumped him in the parking lot.”

Sam figured it was a credit to Russell’s
easygoing personality that the guy could make that jab sound like a
joke.

“What’s the problem?”

Eli directed the question at Sam, but it was
Russell who answered.

“Woman problems.”

Shit.

Sam slid down low enough in his chair that
his spine was practically hugging the seat. Not to hide so much as
that he figured he’d make a smaller target this way. He’d waited
until Eli had joined the Navy and deployed overseas before he’d
started dating the guy’s little sister. Not because he was trying
to hide anything. He just figured that it’d be hard to show Bry a
good time if he was broken into tiny pieces dusted with Eli’s boot
print.

“Bryanna?” Not even looking at Sam, Eli
addressed the question to Russell.

“Yeah. He pissed her off.” Sounding as
amused as he had when he’d told Sam to un-piss off his sister,
Russell gave Sam a pitying look. “Seeing as he looks like she
tossed breakfast over his head, I’d say he pissed her off good,
too.”

“Good. That’s it, then.”

“That’s what?” Sam wondered aloud.

“The best time to walk away. Break up with
her now, while she’s in the right mental place for the split.” Eli
scowled, his brows digging a deep v between his eyes. “You go back
there and kiss her ass, you’re going to get her hopes up again.
You’re going to make her think the two of you have a future.”

“Why wouldn’t they have a future?” Russell
asked, leaning forward to match his brother’s scowl with one of his
own. “They had a fight. That’s no reason to walk away.”

“Morelli’s about to graduate BUD/S. He’s
kissing distance away from earning his trident.”

“So?”

“So, he can’t juggle his duty as a SEAL and
a relationship. It just can’t be done. Not well.”

“That’s crap,” Russell decided. “Just
because you swore off relationships and vowed to only have sex with
hookers doesn’t mean Sam should.”

“Don’t be an ass,” Eli muttered, looking
around to make sure nobody had heard. “I don’t have sex with
hookers.”

“You don’t have relationships, so who’re you
having sex with?”

Curious enough to lift his chin off his
chest, Sam peered at Eli. Since the guy was pushing so hard for him
to get single fast, that was the sort of information that would
come in handy.

“I’m committed to my career. To my country.
I put everything I am, everything I have into that. There’s nothing
left to give a woman.” Bristling, Eli jerked his chin toward Sam.
“You ask your brother. Noah will tell you the exact same
thing.”

“What a bunch of bullshit.”

And off they went, arguing in low tones and
nasty threats.

Sam wondered if he could get another table.
Sooner or later, Russell’s insults were going to push Eli into
throwing a punch. The last place Sam wanted to be when that
happened was right here in the middle of it. The way his luck was
going, he’d end up getting his ass kicked.

“This is our little sister we’re talking
about here,” Russell pointed out, as if they all needed reminding.
“You’re actually sitting here arguing for Sam to break her
heart?”

“I’m arguing for Sam to end things now,
before
he breaks her heart.”

“Why the hell does he have to end
anything?”

“He took a pledge.” Eli leaned forward, his
face filled with a fervor that made Sam blink. Maybe it was the
beer, or maybe it was because he was feeling like crap. Whatever it
was, he’d swear that his old friend looked like one of those crazy
eyed television evangelists when he spoke of vows and pledges.

“He took that stupid vow before he was old
enough to have a driver’s license,” Russell snapped.

He’d had his permit, though. Did that count?
Sam lifted a finger to ask, then changed his mind. What was the
point?

Eli was right. Russell was right.

Sam was confused.

He tilted his bottle from side to side.

He was also out of beer.

Since there was no way he could listen to
this without a drink, he pushed to his feet.

“Where the hell are you going?”

Away. Far, far away.

“I need another beer.”

“We’re having a conversation here.” Eli
jabbed a finger at the chair Sam had just vacated.

“No.
You’re
having a conversation
there.” Sam jerked his thumb between the two brothers. “You’re
talking about me, around me and over me. So go ahead, have at it.
I’m getting another beer.”

He only made it two steps.

“Morelli!”

“Sir?”

“Sir?” For a second, Eli looked like Sam had
flipped him off. “Don’t be an ass. Get back here and finish
this.”

“What’s the point?” He glanced between them
before shrugging. “I’m not denying you, either of you, the right to
speak out when it comes to your sister. But this is between her and
me. And it’s something we have to figure out ourselves.”

“What’s to figure out? You vowed—”

“I’m getting a beer.”

Shoving his hands through the rough stubble
of his hair, Sam moved through the crowd, heading for the tall
woman with the pink mohawk behind the bar. Instead of heading back
with it, he perched on a stool where he hoped he could drink in
peace.

The bass pounded out of the jukebox and a
low hum of voices echoed through his head, mocking that idea.

How the hell was he supposed to feel
peaceful?

Bryanna was pissed at him, with good reason.
He could handle being away from her when he was on duty. That was
the job. But it gnawed at his gut to be fighting with her. He had
to apologize.

But Eli was right.

It’d be smarter to stop at an apology.

It wasn’t fair to Bryanna to ask her to sit
home and wait. He’d truly never thought about it since he’d been
too busy being grateful that she was there, that safe haven in his
mind. But he knew better now. It wasn’t fair to expect her to wait
in the dark, clueless where he was or what he was doing.

And it wasn’t right to leave her hanging
there, in that commitment-less never land, just because he couldn’t
let her go.

God, this sucked.

“Morelli.”

Sam flew to his feet, shoulders back and
chin high so fast, he almost puked.

“Sir,” he snapped through clenched
teeth.

“How’s it going?” Cade Sullivan tapped his
beer bottle against the one Sam had left on the bar. “First time
I’ve seen you in here.”

“I haven’t been in often.” Another one of
those things Eli and Noah disapproved of. Socializing with
superiors, disregarding personal hygiene and having relationships.
All items on their no fly list. “Can I offer you my seat, Sir?”

“We’re both off duty, both in civvies. I
think you can call me Cade.”

Maybe it was four beers combined with a
nagging hangover and the sick feeling in his gut over breaking up
with Bryanna. But it took Sam a good handful of seconds to
comprehend that.

“Cade?”

“That’s my name.” His words were as smooth
as his manners. Sam’s BUD/S instructor, the man who’d kicked his
ass through Phase Three with charm and ease, pulled up an empty
stool, sat and waited for Sam to do the same. “You don’t look like
you’re celebrating your BUD/S scores.”

“No, Sir.” Sam sat, one cheek on the stool
and the rest of him ready to leap to attention again. “Had a bad
night, actually.”

“Holidays can be rough.”

“Family is worse.”

“Oh, yeah,” Cade agreed with a half-laugh.
“I see Spencer’s home. I heard the two of you grew up together. He
giving you a rough time over beating his times?”

Beating his times? Eli had only been with
Macy for, what? Eight months? He’d beat that over a year ago. Then,
grimacing, Sam realized Sullivan was referring to his training
times.