HOT SEAL Lover (HOT SEAL Team - Book 2) (2 page)

R
emy found
himself looking at Matt Girard’s sister more than he should. It had been a week since he’d met her at Matt’s place, and now they were all hanging out at Buddy’s Bar and Grill, slamming back beers, pizza, and wings, when Christina sashayed in.

She wasn’t very tall, but she was rail thin, a wisp of a thing. She looked like a lawyer, dressed in a pencil skirt and heels, with her beautiful brown hair pinned in a bun at the base of her neck. She even wore a pair of glasses, which rounded out the whole lawyer look.

Or maybe she was a schoolteacher. He hadn’t asked because, well, how could he?

She was pretty, though it wasn’t just her beauty that attracted him. She seemed sad, vulnerable, like something wasn’t quite right in her world. He didn’t know what that was, and he wasn’t going to ask about that either.

Though he wanted to. There was something about seeing her sad that bothered him. His damned savior complex coming to the fore again.

“You can’t save the world, Remy,” his sister had always said.

He knew that. Hell, when it counted the most, he hadn’t even been able to save her. Remy swallowed down the bitterness that thought created. There wasn’t a day that went by when he didn’t miss his twin. She’d been an extension of him, the completer of his sentences, the other half of his entire existence in a way that only twins could be. He missed her like he would miss an arm or a leg, though that wasn’t really an apt comparison. Never forgotten, always wanted. Always needed.

He took a swallow of his beer and concentrated his attention on Christina, shoving the sadness to the back of his mind and locking it up. It wouldn’t stay there, but he could hold it back for a while.

She sipped a fruity drink at a high table with some of the other women, laughing when someone said something funny. He chalked his pool cue and watched her from beneath his lashes, his cock twitching with interest as she traced her finger around the rim of her glass, over and over and over.

As if she sensed him watching her, she turned her head and their gazes met. He thought about looking away but decided he wasn’t going to do it. He met her gaze boldly, let her see the raw interest there. She didn’t look away.

And then she did, her lashes dropping as she turned on the chair and faced Olivia Blake—wife of Alpha Squad operator Billy “the Kid” Blake—who sat across from her.

Remy went back to his pool game, but he didn’t stop stealing glances at Christina. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, though that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Some women didn’t wear them.

When she stood up from the table, he thought she might be leaving, but instead she headed for the back hallway and the restrooms. Before she disappeared, she turned and looked at him. He didn’t know what that look meant, but he wanted to find out. He stopped dawdling, sank the rest of the balls in the pockets, and his teammate groaned.

“Cage, dammit, that’s the fifth game in a row you’ve won.”

Remy grinned and put the cue back in the wall rack. “Then you need to stop challenging me, don’t you?”

Cody “Cowboy” McCormick rolled his eyes and peeled off a twenty-dollar bill that he then slapped on the edge of the table. “You’ve soaked me for a hundred bucks tonight.”

Remy took the twenty and shoved it in his pocket. “I didn’t tell you to keep coming back for more, did I? Your choice, Cowboy.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Cowboy picked up his beer and ambled off as two other guys waited for the table.

Remy took the opportunity to head for the restrooms. He wasn’t sure if that look had meant anything at all. Hell, maybe it hadn’t. Maybe she’d been looking at the table behind him, the one with her friends. Or at her brother, who stood at a bar table with his teammates, heads thrown back as they laughed about something.

He stopped in the darkened hallway and told himself this was crazy. Christina hadn’t been looking at him, and he wasn’t the kind of guy who followed women into restrooms.

Public-bathroom sex was not his thing. Not at all.

Not that he thought Christina was the sort to engage in such a thing, especially with her brother fifteen feet away. Or maybe she was. Maybe she liked a little danger.

The ladies’ room door opened and she walked out, pulling up short when she saw him standing there. Her eyes widened slightly and she swallowed as if she were a little nervous.

“Um, hi again,” she said.

“Hi.”

“I… I…” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Dammit,” she muttered.

Remy didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. She’d sort it out eventually.

Her head lifted, and she looked as if she’d turned on a switch somewhere deep inside. A switch that people like him didn’t have. He knew she came from money. Hell, everyone in Louisiana knew the Girard name.

But that hoity-toity superiority thing had never set well with him before, and it wasn’t going to start now. No matter how cute she was.

She was every inch the elite debutante as she stared down her nose at him. No mean trick since she was several inches shorter.

“I’m sorry if I’ve given you mixed signals. The truth is I have no idea what I’m doing.” She spread her hands, dropping her gaze from his. “You seem nice. No, you seem sexy and appealing, and I’m going through a divorce, which I’m sure you know. He cheated on me, and well, I think I’m doing this for all the wrong reasons, so maybe you should just turn around and go.”

Okay, now
that
was different.

And he should definitely go.

But he wasn’t going to.

Her speech didn’t make a helluva lot of sense—why would he know she was getting divorced?—but he got the gist. Her rat of a husband had cheated on her, and she wanted to get back in the saddle. Prove she was still desirable. Yeah, that kinda kicked him in the chest in some weird way, but at least she was honest about it.

Which was new since he didn’t usually run across women who talked about their motives straight up.

“He’s a stupid fucker, Christina. You’re gorgeous, and even if he decided he didn’t want to be with you anymore, he should have had the balls to tell you that. Cheating is a dick move.”

She blinked. And then she started to giggle.
Oookay
, girl was definitely not playing with a full deck here tonight.

She slapped a hand over her mouth and tried to hold the giggles in. He found that he wanted to laugh too—but he couldn’t. If he did, he’d be as cracked as she was. Especially since he really didn’t know what they were laughing at.

“Oh God,” she said after a moment of helplessly gulping air to calm herself. “You must think I’m insane.”

“I’m beginning to wonder,” he said, but he grinned to soften the words.

She searched his face as if she expected to find an answer there. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“About my husband? About the drag queen?”

Remy thought that if eyebrows could climb a face, his were doing it right now. “Honey, I have no idea what you’re talking about. But I’ve got to admit it’s intriguing.”

Christina pressed a hand to her middle. She was slightly built, but she had curves. She smiled at him and he felt like someone had knocked him in the back of the head with a hammer. Damn, she was pretty.

“You must not read the papers. Or watch much television.”

“I’m in the Navy,
cher
. I don’t have a lot of time for gossip. HQ tells me what I need to know, and then I go to work fixing the bad stuff.”

She darted her tongue out to lick her lower lip, and his groin tightened. Jesus.

“Well, you’re probably the only person I’ve run into who has no idea then. I find that rather refreshing. Except now you want to know what happened, so there goes your ignorance of the situation.” She sucked in a breath. “Nevertheless, you can google, so I’ll give you the gist.”

She leaned toward him. He wondered if she was drunk, but she didn’t sway or have glassy eyes, so he decided she wasn’t. She was just fond of the dramatic.

“Ben—that’s my rat-bastard soon-to-be ex—got caught getting fucked in the ass by a guy with boobs bigger than mine at a political fundraiser. So there you go. Google away for your amusement.”

* * *

H
onestly
, she didn’t know why she was telling him that. Or why she’d been giving him looks all night. What was she going to do? Haul him into the bathroom and take a page from Ben’s book? Bang a hot guy in a public restroom just to get back at her soon-to-be ex who didn’t care what she did?

No, she hadn’t thought she was going to do that at all when she’d caught Remy’s gaze right before disappearing into the bathroom. She didn’t know why she’d looked back at him, except that they’d been playing some sort of eye-tag game all night. She’d been sitting at the table with Evie and the girls, feeling his gaze on her as she sipped her appletini.

And yes, the alcohol started to slide into her veins, making her feel good. She’d only had two—it didn’t take much since she was such a lightweight drinker—but she’d suddenly felt like she could conquer the world.

Or at least conquer one gorgeous, dark-eyed Cajun with tattoos that she was dying to see again. So she’d kept looking up, meeting his eyes. Encouraging him even while she asked herself what the hell she was doing.

Now he was looking at her with a heavy frown on his handsome face. She’d expected the same mixture of horror and pity she got from most people. She hadn’t expected anger, which was what was going on in those dark eyes. He was pissed
for
her. She liked that.

“Like I said, he’s a stupid fucker. Are you okay?”

Christina blinked. Now that wasn’t something most people asked. Oh, they did ask, but not like that. Not like they meant it. It was always syrupy sweet, unless it was her family asking, and designed more to elicit information than anything.

But Remy Marchand seemed to mean it.

“I… Yes, I’m okay.”

“That’s good,
cher.
”

“Do you want to get some coffee?” she blurted, her heart pattering in her chest.

Oh God, now wasn’t that a stupid question? He would want to get away from her, not have coffee with her.

He grinned that sexy grin of his. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Really? You don’t have to say yes because you feel sorry for me. I get that most people do, but I really hate—”

She didn’t expect him to reach out and touch her, his fingers curving around her neck as he stepped closer and lowered his mouth to hers. The contact of his mouth was shocking, in fact.

And delicious. He didn’t kiss her hard, didn’t try to shove his tongue into her mouth. He just moved his lips against hers, lightly and sweetly, and she found herself melting against him, her hands coming up to clutch at his T-shirt.

Her body started tingling again. The wetness between her legs was a surprise only because it happened so fast. She didn’t even know this man. In fact, she should be pushing him away, not pulling him closer.

Christina made a sound in her throat. It was frustration and need all rolled into one. She wanted him to deepen the kiss, to give her more of him, but he didn’t. He lifted his head, breaking the contact, and she clung to him, suddenly dizzy.

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” he said, his deep voice a cross between a growl and a caress. “I want to have coffee with you, Christina.”

She sucked in a breath, ridiculously ready to cry for some reason. Instead, she uncurled her fists from his shirt and tried to smile.

“Well, then. Coffee.”

“Yeah, coffee.”

“Now? Or maybe you’d prefer tomorrow—”

“Now,
cher
. I want coffee now. With you, just so you’re clear.”

“Great. Okay. I’ll get my purse and say good-bye.”

“Yeah, you do that. Meet you out front in five minutes.”

T
hey rode
in separate cars and met at a coffee shop tucked away on a side street. They were far enough from Buddy’s that probably no one would find them there. Then again, why did he care if they did?

It was coffee, for fuck’s sake.

Remy was still processing that kiss. He didn’t know why he’d kissed her, except that he’d just felt an overwhelming urge to do so. Her lips were sweet and soft, and when she’d clung to him, he’d wanted to squeeze her tight and not let go.

“So,” she said, running her finger around the rim of her cup, not making eye contact. “Here we are.”

“Here we are.”

She looked up a few moments later, puzzlement creasing her forehead. “This is awkward, isn’t it?”

Remy took a sip of his coffee. Strong and sweet, that’s how he liked it when he had a choice. Out in the field, he’d take it run through a sock if that’s how it had to happen.

Which sometimes it did.

“Is it?”

Her brows drew together. “You aren’t a man of many words, are you?”

“I can be. Right now I’m busy figuring you out.”

She snorted. “There’s not much to figure out. My husband dumped me in a very public and humiliating way. It’s still the butt of late-night jokes sometimes. I’m confused and lonely and maybe even a bit desperate.”

“Desperate?”

She shrugged, but her gaze dropped again. “You know. For sex. It’s been about nine months now.”

And didn’t that just make his cock start to harden?

“Are you normally this blunt?”

He knew Matt fairly well since the SEALs had joined HOT, but they weren’t teammates. And while Matt was direct and blunt when he had to be, he was a guy. In Remy’s experience, women weren’t usually so forthcoming.

“Actually, no. And maybe I should be. Maybe if I’d been blunt with Ben, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

“Blunt how?
Get that dick out of your ass, fuckwad, because we’re married?
How do you think that would have worked out anyway?”

She shook her head, but she didn’t look sad. Just resigned.

“Of course that wouldn’t have worked. But maybe I should have been more blunt back when we were dating. I should have asked why he always wanted the lights out and why he always wanted me on my hands and knees. Or ninety-nine percent of the time, anyway. Is that normal? Or does that sound like a guy who’s gay and pretending not to be, because he sure as hell was never interested in my breasts—though he seemed to like Chardonnay’s pretend ones just fine.”

Jesus. Remy wanted to laugh at the twist of humor she put into her words, and he wanted to shut her up with his mouth. The shit she was saying was making him harder. He liked the idea of her on her hands and knees. He’d like to take her that way.

He’d also like to press her down into the mattress, her tits mashed to his chest, and fuck her until she screamed his name.

Remy reached for her hand, mostly to keep from kissing her in the middle of this coffee shop.

She bit her lip when his fingers twined in hers. Her gray eyes gazed into his, and he felt a kick somewhere in the pit of his stomach. Every last protective instinct he had was snapping into gear. He told himself she wasn’t in danger, but that didn’t seem to stop the feelings coursing through him.

“I told you the man’s a jackass. If you were mine, I’d strip you slowly, kiss every delicious inch of you, and fuck you with all the lights on. Because I’d want to see everything. Your breasts, your belly, your pussy—and those gorgeous eyes of yours when I made you come. Yeah,
that
I’d want to see most of all.”

A flush stained her cheeks even as her mouth dropped slightly open. “I can’t believe you just said that to me. Or that I really, really want you to do it.”

God, he wanted to do it too.

“Baby, you’re hurting. You aren’t thinking straight right now. Much as I want to do every last thing I just said, I think the right thing to do is maybe have another date or two first, don’t you?”

“I… I don’t think dating is for me right now.”

He lifted her hand to his mouth, pressed a kiss on her soft skin. Then he let her go again because touching her electrified him. “Two more dates, Christina. Real dates where I pick you up and take you to dinner, maybe a movie. We can get to know each other. Make out some.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “You’re strange, you know that? Most men would go for the easy sex.”

Yeah, he was strange, at least right now. But she intrigued him—and he hadn’t been intrigued in a long time.

“I like easy sex as much as the next guy. But I’m pretty sure you’d regret it in the morning, and the last thing I want is to be a regret.”

“I don’t know what I’d think in the morning, quite honestly.”

“How about we drink our coffee and talk about the kinds of things people talk about on a date?”

She sat back in her chair and gave him a look that smoldered even though he didn’t think she intended it to. He really wanted to pull the pins from her hair and see it down like the day he’d met her.

He studied her. Her white shirt was buttoned all the way up to her neck, which was kind of ironic considering the conversation they’d been having. Her breasts were small and round. Every once in a while he saw a hint of lace as she leaned forward and her bra was outlined against the thin cotton of her shirt.

Her fingers were long and elegant where they gripped the cup, her nails done in that French thing that women liked. Her lips were full and kissable—which he knew from firsthand experience—and her eyes were sad and soulful.

“So tell me about you, Remy,” she said. “Who is Remy Marchand and what does he like?”

He shrugged, slightly uncomfortable with the thought of talking about himself. Because tragedy was such a part of who he was, and he didn’t want to go there yet.

“I’m a Navy SEAL. I like blowing things up and stopping the bad guys, among other things.”

“Is your family still in Lafayette?”

“Yeah.”

She looked at him expectantly. “That’s it? Just yeah?”

“Nothing to tell, really. There are a lot of Marchands in Lafayette, and I’m probably related to most of them.”

Which was as much as he was saying about his family. Remy thought of his mother, barely living since the hunting accident that had killed his father last year. He sent money home to supplement the social security she got after Dad died. He knew she had what she needed, but his sister Emma said that Mom hadn’t left the house in two months now.

There wasn’t much he could do about it, so he sent money and hoped Emma would figure it all out. If anyone could get his mother out of her blue period, it would be Emma.

He knew it didn’t help that Roxie had been in the ground for the past four years. His family hadn’t been the same since that had happened, and they all knew it.

Remy clenched his fist beneath the table, helpless anger welling inside him all over again at the fate that had befallen his twin.

He should have known what was going on. And he should have fucking stopped it.

Too late.

“That must be nice, having so many relatives,” Christina said softly, staring at her cup again. “There’s just Matt and me and our dad now—and his wife, whom I love like a mother even if she’s not much older than I am. Granny died a few years ago, and our mother died when we were kids.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, it happens, doesn’t it? People die. One day, poof, gone.”

Yeah, people died. One day they were vibrant and alive, and the next some asshole with emotional problems shot them dead. And you thought,
Fuck, you should have told me, Roxie.

And then you thought that you should have fucking known the dude you’d grown up with, the guy who’d been your best friend, was an abuser and unstable. But you never knew it, and now it was too fucking late.

“Hey,” Christina said, and Remy focused on her again. She was frowning at him. “Are you okay?”

Remy cleared his throat and picked up the coffee. “Yeah, fine.”

She didn’t look convinced. “You looked so fierce there. I thought maybe I’d said something.”

“No, you didn’t say anything. It’s fine. Really.”

He reached for her hand across the table again, threading his fingers through hers. One simple touch and he already felt calmer. What was it about her?

He didn’t know, but he wanted to find out.

“So, we’re doing this again. You, me, dinner. When’s a good day?”

She dropped her gaze to their hands. “I don’t know if there is a good day,” she said softly. “My life… it’s crazy right now.”

He snorted. “
Cher
, I’m a SEAL. Believe me, I understand crazy.”

She lifted her head. Their eyes met, and something kicked in his gut. Maybe it kicked in hers too, because she gave his hand a light squeeze.

“Okay. Saturday night then.”