Heroes In Uniform (80 page)

Sanouk’s brown eyes searched Mark’s.

“Not one.”

Mark looked back at the town that was beginning to look like a scale model.

“That’s the way of it, Sanouk.”

“What?”

“Love. It’s crazy. Makes no sense. It drives you. It comes back like a homing beacon and makes you right. Makes you do the right thing. In the end, Gunny got what he deserved, a woman who had given her heart to him, even though he couldn’t reciprocate. She did the right thing by you…marrying and helping get you raised right so you could have a life she couldn’t have. She did that because she loved you. But she also loved the part of Gunny that is inside you. That’s partly why she did it, I think.”

Sanouk nodded. He could see the kid was going to take that gym of Gunny’s, and, if they could get the proper strings pulled, he and his mother would make it something totally different than the old, crusty place they’d liked to hang out in. But he knew they wouldn’t touch the equipment, or the name. It would always be Gunny’s.

And any SEAL or man or woman who served their country in uniform would always be welcome there too. One family. Many colors. Many countries.

But one pretty fuckin’ awesome family.

Cruisin’ for a Seal: Chapter Five

A
t dinner, Mark
brought his little black book, hoping to find an Italian waiter who could translate what Sophia had written for him. He sat in the middle of the long table that had been provided for them. The maître d’ came by, followed by a sommelier to announce the wine selections and the various meal packages available. Mark discovered the sommelier was Italian.

“Please, would you help me?” he asked the older gentleman.

“Si, si, si.”

“A friend wrote this for me, and I wondered if you would translate it for me.”

The heavyset sommelier put on his glasses and held Mark’s black book up to his face and then snatched it away. “Pornographic!” He tried to hand it back to Mark.

“No, no. I really want to know what it says.”

“This is not for polite company,” the gentleman said, eyeing the ladies in the group.

“What the fuck have you done, Marky Mark?” Kyle demanded.

“I got this note and I just hoped he would translate it for me.”

And now he really wanted to know what it said. Nearly everyone was looking expectantly at the sommelier, not wanting to be deprived of some juicy fun.

“Please, sir,” Kyle began in his velvet tongue. “Don’t worry about offending anyone. We are all very good friends.”

“And I’m sure nothing you could say would be considered pornographic to this crowd,” Nick chimed in. The only two people who weren’t paying rapt attention were Armando and Gina. It was a sure bet they wouldn’t be sticking around long enough to have dinner.

Kyle followed the sommelier’s gaze and noticed some hot and heavy going on at that end of the table. “Armani!” he hissed.

Armando surfaced quickly, looking around, dazed, and noticed the LT’s frown.

“Ixnay with the uckinfay in publicpay,” Kyle warned.

Armani actually blushed, although Gina just giggled as he stood quickly, grabbed her hand, and hustled her out of the room.

The sommelier cleared his throat, examined the words carefully again and shook his head. “Scusi, but who wrote this, sir?”

Mark grinned, glad that the mystery would soon be solved. “Like it says, Sophia wrote it.”

Sophia came the refrain from several voices.

“So this is Miss Mission to Mars yesterday?” Jones asked.

“More like Heaven, I’d say, right, Mark?” Christy flashed him one of those legendary smiles.

He was proud he could nod and get the catcalls as a result. “Moved her enough to write this poem here,” he said.

“Is not a poem, sir,” the sommelier huffed.

“Go ahead, you might as well tell us. We’re all dying to know,” said Cooper.

He cleared his voice again and began. The Sommelier mumbled the passage in Italian. And then he finished up with, “Amore, Sophia.”

“Sounds nice,” Mark said. He’d heard the “amore” at the end and was encouraged. “What does it mean then?

“I wish that I could fuck you five times a night for the rest of my life. I’ll be missing you sadly. Love, Sophia”

“You sure she didn’t say ‘make love?’ There’s a difference, you know,” said Devon.

“No madam. We are Italian. We know the difference.”

He dropped the book in Mark’s lap and departed quickly.

Mark thought he ought to feel happy. Now he had to find this mystery woman. She was probably hundreds of miles away by now, stuck onshore, and would be thousands by the end of the cruise, but somehow he’d find her again.

Next day was
spent at sea, and it was unusually sunny. The cruise staff had arranged a dance party by the covered pool area. It was warm enough for bathing suits and flip-flops. The SEALs looked like a cadre of Roman gladiators with their tattooed crosses, symbols and bulging muscles. They hung out in the outside corner, very close to the bar. They’d made friends already with several of the Thai help staff, and Sanouk helped with the translation and became a sort of celebrity with the waiters. He was getting attention from several ladies as well, which Mark could see was making him feel a bit uncomfortable.

“You have any questions, you let me know,” Mark whispered.

“Mr. Mark, I’ve had sex. I know what to do.”

“Not what I’m talking about, Sanouk. You want to be careful. These ladies have been around the world more than a few times. Customs and polite behavior are sort of out the window. I’m not sure your mom prepared you for this. I sure as hell know Gunny didn’t.”

“Oh, yes, he did. He told me not to do what he had done.”

“Which part, the serial marriages or the dotting the world with offspring?”

“He told me to find something of value to do in life first. Then find the woman who will fit into that. Not the other way around. He told me I’d be miserable if I chased without knowing what I wanted.”

“That’s a fact.” Mark couldn’t agree more. Old Gunny had way more common sense than he’d ever given him credit.

See you upstairs someday, Mister. Not too soon, I hope.

A band had set up on deck and a heavy drumbeat began, making all conversation stop. A tall black dude with orange hair, reminding Mark of Dennis Rodman, walked out wearing a long purple robe, and carrying a staff of glittering streamers that fluttered down from a green satin skull with horns of Satan.

He was kind of a crazy scary guy, and in any other place they’d have been on guard for the women, but Devon and Christy led the ladies in a line of dancing in their hopelessly tiny bikinis purchased in Savona. Armando’s Gina had the dance moves down, along with some belly dance techniques aimed in the guys’ direction. Wasn’t more than two seconds before Armando swooped in, grabbed Gina’s hand, and hustled her out of sight.

Mark was happy for them.

He was still chuckling about his black book incident when a flash of red caught his eye. He turned to see the back half of a beautifully proportioned—he’d have to say perfectly proportioned—woman in a tiny red crocheted bikini. When she stood, he saw the bikini bottom was made of little hearts, and hugged her perfect little ass.

Mark never considered himself an expert in ass recognition, not like his skills in the language and signals field, or some of the medic training he’d had, but he knew, just knew he recognized that ass. Her hips undulated as she held her long mahogany hair up on top of her head. She turned her head in profile just like she’d done to him in bed, and her expression was the same. And how dare she show it to a crowd of overweight, middle-aged guys who were drooling over the view.

Mark thumped his beer down and jumped up. While he was on his way over to her she turned, looking down. Two little red hearts covered her areolas, but just barely. Her tanned, toned body was practically naked. Her hips undulated in a figure eight and he could see those unbelievable abdominal muscles flex and curl beneath her satiny skin. If she was getting ready to do a lap dance for someone, that person would wind up in the deep, blue sea, Mark decided.

She rolled her eyes up to his and then stepped back in shock, dropping her hair and nearly falling on her perfect ass. Her look of ecstasy was replaced with a definite frown. Was she not happy to see him? Sure as hell, he was happy to see her.

With the ridiculous Brazilian music as a backdrop they stood motionless in front of the crowd and searched each other’s faces.

She was every bit as beautiful as she’d been in her bed, in his arms. The sunlight showed all the golden highlights of her hair, even lighting up the delicate tips of her eyelashes. He was hungry and shocked at the same time. Thrilled to see her, but feeling betrayed. His anger and confusion began to wrap around him like a dark blanket.

“How is it you are here?” he asked, finally finding his voice.

“I work here,” she said in perfect English.

“You speak English after all? You let me say all those things?” He had to look away but couldn’t stay away for long. “Why did you pretend—why did you—”?

“It’s complicated. And obviously I never thought I’d see you again.”

One of the dancers, a tall tanned guy nearly Mark’s size, came up to her. “Sophia, everything all right?” He put his hands around her waist, stood too close. Mark felt his hands fist.

“No problem, Roberto. He’s an old friend.” She gave her fellow dancer a sweet smile to send him away. Mark felt lucky he’d never seen that smile aimed at him before.

“I want you to put something on.” It was the first thing that popped into Mark’s head. He felt stupid and totally ill equipped to communicate with words at this moment. His tongue felt dry as leather.

He stepped close to her, so close he smelled her lovely scent again, felt her heat and, inside, felt the vibration of her need. She didn’t retreat. He’d loved the Italian she’d spoken while he enjoyed her body with everything he had. But her English words were even more seductive.

And so dangerous. He was left stunned in the middle of a firefight without protection. Out of ammo, his mates too far away to help.

Why had she created this charade? Was his heart a plaything she’d picked up on a whim, only to discard later? How could he have been so wrong about what they’d shared?

But the evidence of her betrayal stood before him, lovely and just as deadly beautiful as it had been yesterday. How he desperately wanted her to say something.

And then his desperate wish was granted when she said, “And I want you to take something off.”

Cruisin’ for a Seal: Chapter Six

S
ophia could hardly
believe her eyes. She’d not been able to concentrate for the past twenty-four hours, ever since she’d parted ways with Mark, her Marko, the man who was destined to haunt her dreams forever. And now here he was.

The look on his face, the hunger and betrayal in his eyes, the croak in his voice when he spoke to her, made all the color and passion of their lovemaking come alive again. And she felt the strong presence of her fantasy man, suddenly there, real flesh and blood before her.

He stood completely still, and for a few desperate seconds she thought he might turn and walk away, which would have been smart on so many levels. But in matters of the heart people were rarely smart. Seeing his stunned hurt was the last thing she’d ever thought she’d have to do. And he was making it very clear that he wasn’t going to go away until he got a complete explanation.

How can I do this when I don’t even know myself what has happened to me?

She was on her way to meet the man she was supposed to marry. How could she explain to this wonderful man that she was already taken? That she’d dallied briefly in a life that could never be?

“We need to talk,” she finally said.

“Damned straight we do,” he said, grabbing her hand while using the other to throw the first towel he could find around her shoulder. As they walked through the automatic glass doors on the deck he gave the finger to catcalls coming from the far corner.

Away from the prying eyes of his teammates, he stopped and asked her again, “Sophia—is that even your real name? What’s going on?”

“I’ll do my best, Mark. Let’s find some place private.” She kept his hand in hers, desperate for the strength she felt in his touch, as if it would be the last certain thing in her life, a life of indecision and torment. Even if he was angry, and he had every right to be angry, the feel of his fingers threaded with hers gave her the courage to tell him, even though he’d probably hate her afterwards. But in the few minutes it would take to get him to a place they could talk, she let the wonderful feeling of his touch continue the fantasy of a happily ever after.

She led him to the disco lounge, which was empty this time of day. The brilliant colors almost mocked her heavy heart. Shiny blue tiles like the glistening seas outside wrapped large columns. The ceilings were amber mirrors, and the chairs a bright combination of blue, neon yellow and orange leather. There was a full bar and a small dais with a grand piano on it.

She pulled him to the corner hidden from the opened glass doors, and sat down on the bright fabric at a black marble cocktail table. Mark sat next to her on the upholstered bench seat that wrapped the seaward side of the room.