Читать книгу Stranded With The Navy Seal - Susan Cliff - Страница 8
ОглавлениеHis gaze kept returning to the beauty at the bar.
Logan had noticed her as soon as he’d entered the nightclub. Sexy red dress, dark hair, rocking body. She’d have caught his attention in any situation. Tonight he did a triple take, because she resembled the woman he’d been hired to protect for the next three weeks on this Tahitian cruise.
Unfortunately, the bodyguard detail had fallen through, leaving him stranded on the high seas with nothing to do.
He took another pull of his fancy microbrew and scanned the rest of the room. It had been months since he’d been in a club. Longer still since he’d enjoyed the comforts of female company. He shifted his sore knee, blaming the injury for the drought he’d been experiencing. Never mind the real culprit.
Telskuf.
Instead of dwelling on a mission gone wrong, he focused on a woman made right. Slender, with smooth brown skin and a lot of curly hair. She sat poised on a bar stool, sipping a fruity cocktail. She looked fantastic in red. He’d read somewhere that men couldn’t resist the color. It triggered an uncontrollable response, like a biological urge to mate. He’d dismissed the notion as pseudoscientific foolishness then.
He believed it now.
It was an eye-catching shade, bright and hot, like fireworks. Most of her back was bare. The straps of her dress crossed prettily between her shoulder blades. He wondered how easy it would be to take off.
She glanced over her shoulder at him as if she could sense his attention. When her gaze connected with his, something strange happened. His breath caught in his throat, and every muscle in his body tightened with awareness. It was almost as if he knew her, but he didn’t know her. He’d have remembered meeting this woman. She was fashion-model beautiful. She didn’t smile or invite him over. Seeming flustered, she swiveled back toward the bar and picked up her drink.
He was captivated in an instant, and he couldn’t even tell if she was interested in him. She might be shy. She might be unavailable. Either way, he had to find out who she was, because all of his senses had come alive. The contrast between her demure demeanor and that sexy dress fascinated him.
Most of the women he hooked up with made it clear they were into him. They approached him first, and he liked that. He could get lucky in any of the San Diego bars that catered to military men. He was young, single and in top condition. He hadn’t become a Navy SEAL by sitting on the couch.
Lately, however, he’d lost his taste for one-night stands. He’d just turned thirty, and he was tired of going out. Tired of being single. It would be nice to have someone to come home to after a grueling assignment, but his work schedule didn’t leave much room for dating. He had to be ready to leave the country at the drop of a hat. He was overseas a lot, and long-distance relationships were hard to maintain.
He was kind of stuck. He didn’t have a steady girlfriend, but he needed companionship, even if it was only for a few hours. He needed a woman’s touch. That was why he’d wandered into this bar. He’d come in last night, too, and gone back to his room alone. Although there was no possibility of a meaningful connection here, he couldn’t leave the ship. He’d spent three days prowling around the decks, swimming in the lap pool and working out in the gym until sweat poured down his body.
He was bored. He was...keyed up.
He’d always been a type-A personality, restless and overactive. Since his surgery, he’d been incapable of relaxing. He hadn’t slept well. He’d been plagued by nightmares. Maybe a pretty face could help chase away the demons.
He left his table and approached the bar, bringing his bottle with him. The woman in the red dress was studying her phone. Not a good sign. He figured his chances of striking out with her were about fifty/fifty. She was drop-dead gorgeous. He was no slouch, but he might not be her type.
She glanced up as he leaned his forearm against the bar. Her expression was expectant, and a bit wary.
“Hey,” he said.
She smiled politely. “Hey.”
“I’m Logan.”
“Cadence.”
He definitely didn’t know her. He’d never heard the name before. She didn’t look that much like the former president’s daughter, upon closer inspection. “Can I buy you a drink?”
She lifted her tumbler, which was half-full. “One’s my limit.”
Damn. He wasn’t sure if she was rejecting him or just the drink offer. “Are you the designated driver?”
“I work here.”
“In this bar?”
“On the ship.”
He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by hanging around, but he also didn’t want to give up too soon. He waited a few seconds, hoping for some encouragement. She set her phone aside and gestured for him to sit down.
Score.
He tried not to get too excited about the courtesy, even though she was offering him the opportunity to advance. Maybe she was interested, just not easy. He could handle that. The idea of spending more time than usual, and working harder to win her over, appealed to him. He didn’t mind a challenge.
As he settled in the empty bar stool next to her, he found himself tongue-tied. She was hot, and his game was rusty. It took a few seconds before his brain started functioning again. “What do you do?”
“I’m a chef,” she said, sipping her drink. “At Fillet of Soul.”
He liked that. He liked food. He liked her mouth. Her lips were nicely shaped, closed around a thin black straw. The cocktail in her hand looked like a combination of fruit and mint. “I ate dinner there tonight. The halibut was delicious.”
“I prepared that.”
“I almost licked the plate.”
She laughed at the compliment. “What do you do?”
“I’m in the navy.”
“My dad was in the navy.”
He was glad to hear it. Navy girls were among his favorites. They were well traveled, well brought up and appreciative of military men. “What division?”
She told him about her dad’s service in Kuwait, before she was born. Logan had been to Kuwait, and plenty of other war-torn places. He lifted his beer in respect. She clinked her glass against his.
“Hooyah,” he said.
“Hooyah,” she repeated, smiling.
So far, so good. He was trying not to ogle her like a snack he wanted to gobble up, but it was difficult. The front of her dress was even sexier than the back. Her breasts plumped against the bodice. His eyes slid down and veered back up.
Too late. She caught him looking.
Focus, Starke. Focus on the conversation. “What does he do now?”
“He’s a police officer.”
Logan raised his bottle again.
She moved her straw around in a mix of ice cubes and crushed mint. “So you like ships?”
He shrugged, because he’d never been on a cruise ship before. After spending so much time in tight quarters on military barges, he wouldn’t have chosen this for a vacation. “I was supposed to be working.”
“Doing what?”
Logan couldn’t disclose the specific details. “Guarding someone.”
“A celebrity?”
He made a noncommittal sound. “My client canceled her trip at the last minute, and I was already onboard, all expenses paid.”
“So you decided to stay.”
“Yes.”
Logan had been a Navy SEAL for six years, five of them under President O’Brien. Now O’Brien was a UN dignitary. Secret Service usually provided security to former presidents and their children for a lifetime, so Logan wasn’t sure why SS wasn’t guarding Maya O’Brien. There was some speculation, behind closed doors, that the current POTUS hadn’t signed the protection order for O’Brien’s family.
Either way, Logan had been happy to step in. It was an opportunity to serve a man he respected, and to make a few extra bucks during his time off. Cruising to Tahiti was no hardship. He was still recovering from knee surgery. He’d completed his physical therapy sessions, but he couldn’t return to regular duty for another six weeks. Inactivity drove him crazy. He’d needed a change of scenery.
His current view was spectacular.
Cadence’s phone vibrated on the bar’s surface, indicating a new text. Logan could read the name of the sender: Andrew. She frowned in irritation and turned off the notifications. His protective instincts stirred.
“Someone bothering you?” he asked.
“No one important.”
“Your ex?”
It was a personal question, but she didn’t seem to mind. After a short hesitation, she showed him the conversation. The photo next to the text bubble showed an Asian guy in a pretentious-looking black uniform.
Him: You took a job on a cruise ship? That’s beneath you
Her: You’re beneath me
Him: I wish
Him: I miss you
“He’s a chef, too?” Logan asked.
“A celebrity chef,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Andrew Yu.”
Logan wasn’t impressed. “Sounds like he can’t let go.”
“Well, he’s going to have to, because he cheated. On TV. With his costar.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
He could tell she wasn’t giving Andrew any second chances. She wasn’t a pushover. He liked that. Maybe she was looking for a rebound, a diversion, or a little revenge sex. Logan was happy to be in the right place at the right time. “You should take a picture of us and tell him you’re already on top of someone else.”
She laughed at this suggestion, as if it really appealed to her. She had a sexy laugh, throaty and uninhibited. But she didn’t pose for a photo with him. She tucked her phone into a little black purse and finished her drink in silence.
He hoped he hadn’t blown his chances by being too aggressive. Subtlety wasn’t his strong suit. When he wanted something, he went for it, and he wanted her. He didn’t see any reason to pretend otherwise.
The club’s reggae band launched into a popular Bob Marley song, interrupting the awkward moment. She perked up at the sound.
His knee told him not to, but his mouth said, “Want to dance?”
