Revealing Her SEAL (ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights Book 4) (7 page)

Rachel’s life had been a little more complicated to unravel. She’d packed some clothes, selected her favorite items from the kitchen to be shipped to Duchess Island, and then taken the one framed picture of the six smiling Blumes from her mantel. That was it. With a word to the super about keeping an eye on it, she locked up her condo. Back Bay had little crime, hence the reason the area had drawn the interest of a single woman, so she wasn’t overly worried about her investment. She should probably sell the thing; it was just sitting there overlooking the Charles River, silent and empty.

But she wanted a place to go in case she found out the reason she’d never felt settled in Boston had nothing to do with location and everything to do with Rachel. Her parents would welcome her back to the firm in a heartbeat and she didn’t need the money from the sale of her condo, so… she’d sit on it for a while longer.

The framed picture was the very last thing on her moving to-do list. One of the nice benefits of moving to the Caribbean with nothing more than a few suitcases full of clothes and shoes—it didn’t take long to wave
sayonara
to Anna the Terrible.

Neither she nor the native islander had shed a tear.

But now Rachel had nothing else to do but get started on living with Evan Silva.

Dex had kind of freaked her out with his warnings and dropping Evan’s alcoholism into the equation, but she’d never seen him drink even when around others who were partaking, so he must be in recovery. She wasn’t concerned about that. Though she did wonder why Dex had said Evan needed someone to hang out with.

If anything, Evan would probably rather all people dropped off the face of the earth, especially her. Or at least she would have put money on that being a stone cold truth—until that extremely odd conversation earlier.

When she’d tried to broach the subject, Evan had practically ordered her to move in. When he got commanding and forceful like that, wow.
Hot
. And it was so unexpected that she couldn’t not do it.

Evan wanted her here. There was no way it was as simple as giving her a place to study, like he’d claimed. So, why? She’d developed froth at the mouth to find out.

Show time. She wandered out of her room into the living area. Evan stood in the small adjacent kitchen drinking a glass of water, which he did the same way he did everything. With intent. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and within moments he drained the glass.

“Hey, roomie,” she said and leaned one hip on the counter, effectively pinning him in. Oh, he could definitely move her if he wanted to, but for now the exit was blocked.

Instead of figuring out how to get out of Dodge, like she’d expected, he set the glass in the sink with a clink and mirrored her pose against the counter, arms crossed. And much closer than she would have expected. Good God, the man was tall. She should have put on some shoes before she came looking for him with the express intent of ferreting out his purpose for having her move in.

She hoped it meant he was a little more open to that shameless flirting she’d warned him about, because when she hit a nerve and he actually smiled in response—it was nearly spiritual. What would it be like to actually move the needle on their relationship to something a little more… physical? A powerful slice of heat through her midsection caught her off guard, but it was so delicious she savored it.

That’s
why she was here. She wanted more.

“I owe you dinner,” she announced.

In the small confines of the kitchen, it was impossible to escape his scent, which was part ocean and part
oh, my God
sexy. Men in Boston coated themselves with L’eau Serge Lutens and called it a day, oblivious to the fact that they all smelled identical and uninspired.

He shrugged and quirked an eyebrow.
No big deal
.

“It is a big deal. That’s my ticket to ride. I want to cook for you.” With that in mind, she brushed by him, careful to touch all the hard delicious places in her wake, then flung open the refrigerator. “I’ll just throw together some…”

Empty. The refrigerator was completely empty. Crap, she should have thought that through. Who didn’t have at least eggs, flour, butter, and cheese in reserve? And now the exit was clear so he could waltz out of her range whenever he felt like it.

“Not even a congealed carton of month-old milk?” She tsked over her shoulder. “I guess I have to go to the market before I can earn my keep. Um… where is the nearest place to buy groceries?”

There wasn’t one in the village; she already knew that.

“Abaco,” he supplied cryptically as if she had the names of all the surrounding areas memorized, but since she didn’t, it wasn’t very helpful. At least he hadn’t left.

“You’ll have to take me tomorrow. Still have to eat today. Want to walk to the resort with me?” she suggested and winked. “I’ll pay, and I won’t even make you put out.”

This time his expression was pure
I-can’t-even.

“No? Well, I’m not one to miss meals, so…”

She slid past him again in the cramped kitchen when somehow, just as she did a little full frontal move that oops—accidentally brushed her torso against his—she got caught. By his hands. On both sides of her hips, strong and deliberate. They clamped into place, holding her tight, aligning everything perfectly. All the brutally hard planes of his body made thorough acquaintance with hers.
All
of them.

Oh, dear God.

Her eyelids shuttered instantly as a dark, sharp thrill ripped through her. And then she pried open her eyes because no way in hell was she missing any of this… whatever it was.

Evan stared down at her, enigmatic and silent, but something just as dark and sharp colored his expression, and holy close encounters was it hot. She couldn’t look away as the undercurrents sped up, spiraling wildly the longer they stayed locked in each other’s sights.

“Evan,” she murmured, and his name tangled in her throat as his fingers nipped in against her flesh.

And then he pivoted toward the living area, hustling her along, pushing her toward the exit. Away from his body. His hands dropped to his side, and she nearly wept as all the places he’d touched cooled.

“Yeah, okay. I get it,” she croaked when she thought she could speak again. “If I’m going to play, I better be prepared to get played. Noted.”

His shuttered expression had not one iota of the heat from a mere moment ago, as if to make sure she realized he could lock it down at will. It had been a lesson and a warning wrapped up in one.
Careful when you play with fire, little girl. You might get burned.

Except Evan obviously didn’t realize that Rachel wore nothing but fireproof underwear and all he’d done was pique her curiosity on just how hot things could get before they both went up in flames.

Because it was going to happen, she had no doubt now. One benefit of being that close—it had been impossible for Evan to hide the steel in his pants. Probably that had been part of the point. He didn’t run around spouting at the mouth with cheap pickup lines, which she appreciated. How else could he advertise the fact that his interest in her had grown a few teeth? And she was a fan of Evan’s communication method of choice.

That little tidbit alone had her humming as she walked the mile or so to the resort. The hostess smiled at Rachel and gave her a table by a window overlooking the water, which was one of the many benefits of being considered a local at a Caribbean resort. She munched absently on halfway-decent chicken masala with steamed veggies and rice. Her recipe blew this out of the water, and she wished she could make it for Evan, but she’d have to stick with something that didn’t require wine to prepare it, like chicken cacciatore.

Thank God Dex had clued her in about why Evan never drank so she could stop sticking her foot in her mouth. Obviously it was an intensely personal thing, but she kind of wished Evan had told her himself. He’d had ample opportunity, as many times as she’d asked him to get a drink. Had she unwittingly caused him problems?

Obviously he had an enormous amount of self-discipline, and she admired his strength. At the same time it drove her crazy because it was the same iron will that allowed him to continually reject her.

But she didn’t think it was because he found her repulsive. Not anymore.

When she got back to the bungalow, Evan was noticeably absent, so she barricaded herself in her room so she could spend a few hours doing the thing she’d pretended was the reason for being here.

The legal briefs were long and boring, but she plowed through them, made notes, read ancillary cases, and analyzed judgments. A few days ago she’d found a relatively active forum of legal professionals in the Caribbean, which was the first place she went to post questions as she had them. Rachel was a fantastic lawyer because she had a near-photographic memory. As long as it was printed, all she had to do was read it once. Came in handy as she presented arguments because she rarely had to stop and review her notes.

More than a few of her ex-lovers had insisted her real skill lay in her complete lack of empathy. But no lawyer worth her salt could let emotions walk into a courtroom with her. It would be suicide. But if people wanted to think of her as cold and unfeeling, no skin off her teeth. As long as she won, that was all that mattered, because every success was penance for her teenage self’s mistakes.

The pipes rattled in the wall near her small desk, telling her that Evan had returned and jumped in the shower. Naked, of course, hands spread against the white tile as he let the hot water sluice down his prime body. Or what she imagined would be a gorgeous body. Evan never ran around without a shirt like the other guys did, so she had to improvise. Wasn’t hard to picture what a SEAL with his wiry, long frame might be built like.

With that handy image in her head, she became officially distracted. And then noticed the time. It was after midnight. Normally she liked to be in bed before then, but she’d obviously become more immersed in her dry passages than she’d credited. And now she had to wait until Evan finished before she could brush her teeth.

Or she could pretend their new living arrangements had always included sharing a bathroom. She’d brushed her teeth while Anna took a shower lots of times. It was practically a requirement when you had one bathroom for two people.

Before she could make good on that idea, the click of the bathroom door opening and then the shush of Evan’s bedroom door closing told her she’d missed her window of opportunity.

More disappointed than she had a right to be, Rachel got ready for bed and fell into a fitful sleep until something nudged her partially awake. Faint sounds traveled through the wall. Yeah, the walls were thin but not thin enough to recognize what was happening on Evan’s side of the Sheetrock.

Her eyelids blinked open and she stared at the ceiling, straining to hear. Murmuring. Was Evan talking to someone?

Not her business. He could make a phone call in the middle of the night if he wanted to. If she’d been sleeping like she should be, she’d never have known. He was much quieter than Anna, which was the whole reason she’d come up with the idea of moving in here in the first place.

So of course she cursed the fact that she couldn’t tell what he was saying.

Hell. He might actually have a person in there. There was nothing that said he hadn’t brought a girl home. They could have taken a shower together. Maybe he did that three times a week. But she didn’t think so. Evan never talked to anyone, let alone the multitudes of women who continually tried to catch his eye.

It had taken her a month to get a smile out of him. If he had someone in his room, she’d turn in her Girl Card in a heartbeat.

The muffled sound came again, followed by a low yelp.

She sat up and pressed her ear to the wall. Shoot. That wasn’t any better, and Evan had gone quiet.

More murmuring. Another faint yelp. Dex’s warnings about being the person Evan needed floated back to her, but it had completely different context now. Should she check on him?

A loud thump reverberated against her cheek, like something had hit the wall. That decided it. She bolted out of bed, threw on a robe over her boy shorts and tank top and eased open her door. Evan’s was ajar, thank God, and the hall light was on.

Good. He was probably doing pushups or something because he couldn’t sleep. She’d peek through the crack and make sure, then go back to sleep. None of this was her business anyway, and stalking a man in his bedroom wasn’t how she normally operated.

Of course, men typically summoned her into theirs without a lot of hoopla. This was the first time she’d ever contemplated bearding one in his lair without a previous invitation.

Evan was sprawled out under the sheets, eyes closed. The hall light beamed across his face as he murmured something over and over.
Jordan
. A former teammate? The river? Then he threw his arm up above his head to whack the wall. Rachel flinched. Surely that would wake him up and he’d catch her ogling him as he slept.

But he didn’t open his eyes, and she realized he was dreaming. He yelped again, thrashing against the sheets as if they’d turned into a living thing.

Not dreaming. Having a nightmare more like.

This was totally out of her realm of expertise. Should she wake him up? Seemed like that was the wrong thing to do, especially when Evan outweighed her by a million pounds of muscle. But he might hurt himself.

All at once Evan threw off the sheet and rolled onto his side, hand pillowed under his head. His breathing grew rhythmic, and his face settled. Was that it then? Everything was okay?

The light shone across his bare body in a long slice, and since it was her civic duty to ensure his safety, she took a moment to look her fill. Her gaze wandered down the exquisitely sculpted torso that eclipsed every fantasy she’d ever had about Evan Silva. The man was gorgeous.

That’s when her gaze registered the indents strewn across his chest. Lots of them. The pale light didn’t provide much detail, but her stomach swirled with a sick lurch just the same.