Rescued (Navy SEALS Romance Book 1) (6 page)

"Grr," Taylor said.

"You're welcome," Jessie laughed.

And Taylor, her stomach full of butterflies and anticipation, headed finally to work.

I
n the end
, she didn't have to worry about what she was going to wear. Tanner texted her and asked if she wanted to go for a walk on the beach or a run, and then share a picnic of cold chicken, grapes, wine – or was she more the pizza kind of girl?

And Taylor, thinking of her abs compared to his, decided to forego her favorite meal said the chicken route sounded great and what could she bring?

"You," he said, calling her a minute later when her heart had begun to pound because he wasn't texting her back fast enough.

T
hey sat
on towels by the water, watching the sun pancake itself into the Pacific. The wind off the water was just turning cool as the summer day drained away. The beach wasn't deserted but they didn't have a lot of company.

Taylor, drinking white wine, and sparingly, wore a long tan skirt, a pink shell top, and, currently, his big burly gray sweatshirt because Tanner said he wasn't cold.

"So is your family military?" she asked. Living in San Diego, there were sailors and SEALs all over the place but she'd never thought much about it. Her family had been solidly white collar, she and her sister still were, and Taylor herself wasn't completely pro armed forces. It seemed like a lifestyle she didn't understand.

"None of them, actually," Tanner said, leaning back with his arms braced, his legs out in front of him. His triceps looked like they could cut glass. His hair was getting longer. If he let it grow, would it be soft? "My dad's a professor of economics. My brother Tucker works in advertising."

"Are you close to your brother?" Idly she licked the spoon she'd been using on the yogurt he'd brought for dessert. Now she realized his attention was fixed on her mouth. She pretended not to notice and watched him over the bowl of the spoon.

Tanner cleared his throat, seeming to force himself back to the question. "Kind of. We're twins."

For a delirious second Taylor wondered what it would be like to be pressed between
two
Tanners. Next instant she knew it would never happen. There was something sweet about this guy, this huge Navy SEAL, all buff and military, polite in bearing but with something underneath that made her think in an emergency, like the wildfire? There was no one better to have on her side. It was an undercurrent of not arrogance but self assurance. He knew who he was and she thought he knew what he wanted. Straight forward and probably capable of lightning fast decisions and violence when necessary.

At the same time, he'd been wrong footed in the elevator. Not like Taylor herself, but he'd been uncertain, like he really did think he was bad at the social interaction and the asking out of girls he was already kissing in elevators. There was something about him that made her think he'd be secretly hurt by any glib reference to twins and sex, not that she was ready to make quips about sex, but she thought there would never be a time he wasn't hurt by something like that, no matter how innocent the quip or long the relationship.

She liked that. She hoped she wasn't wrong about it.

She still couldn't help asking, because damn, he was fine and the prospect of two of them? Nature wasn't usually that generous.

"There's two of you?"

He smirked. "Yes. He's actually a clone. My parents thought I was a terribly clumsy child and commissioned an extra – oof!" he exclaimed when she bowled him over, perching on top of him, pretending to threaten.

"As if I could hurt you!" Or pin him down. But she held his hands over his head once he'd pretended her launching herself at him had had sent him flying over backwards, and then didn't know what to do with him.

Tanner knew. He surged up beneath her and rolled her easily so he cradled her in his arms, looking down into her eyes, his full of laughter. They turned serious as he brushed her hair back from her face, kissed her forehead, kissed her mouth briefly, then lay back on the beach towel, pulling her with him so her head rested on his shoulder. With his free hand he pointed up. "See that cluster of stars? That's the constellation of star-crossed lovers."

Taylor looked, even knowing the sky was still light, the sun hadn't completely set. "There are no stars, Tanner."

"I see them," he said, rising to look down at her again. This time the kiss was anything but brief. His lips pressed into hers, his mouth insistent, until she was kissing one lip, their mouths intertwined, her lips capturing his plump lower lip, his teeth grazing hers, their tongues just touching, hot and tasting of wine and salt air. He ran one hand into her hair, traced the thumb down her face, forehead and cheekbone to jawline, up her chin to stroke along her lower lip as his mouth pulled away, then brushing into her mouth even as his mouth found her jawline, her throat, the hollow in her collarbone. Her head tilted back, lengthening her throat, her hands stroked his face, thumbs outlining, fingertips finding purchase behind his neck to pull him closer to her.

Against her closed lids, the first strike of lightning was blue fire. Taylor gasped, her eyes flying open, met Tanner's gaze as he laughed, delighted, his voice raised over the thunder as he said, "We're going to have to make a run for it!"

"And here I thought it was the kiss!"

They bundled the remains of everything into the beach sheet, tumbling it all, making sure of keys and shoes and running even as the first cold drops of rain hit them. They were laughing by the time they got to his Jeep, the rain now torrential, a cannonade on the hardtop of the Jeep. They clambered inside, laughing the minute they slapped the doors on the storm, hovering together to stare out the rain-streaked windshield at the ocean as the silvery rain caught the last of the light.

"How's your dog like thunderstorms?" he asked, keys in hand.

She didn't want the night to end. "He hates them." Because it was true. And because she still owed Monster comfort in the storm, silly as it sounded.

"Want to go make him feel better?"

She grinned, nodded and when they got to her house, asked him up.

M
onster sat
on the couch between them.

"What made you choose to go into IT?" Tanner asked around the trembling Labrador. Taylor was toweling rain water out of her wild blond curls. She looked adorable. He could still taste her mouth, feel the smooth silkiness of her skin under his fingers.

The dog had to go.

"Come on, boy," he said, snapping his fingers at the floor.

"Won't work," Taylor said. "If I sit in the middle, you can sit on the other side of me. He's a big baby, terrified of the weather, and trying to pretend that he isn't? Doesn't work."

Tanner considered, got up, helped her up, took her place and pulled her down into his lap. Monster watched, sighed, let out a sharp bark as thunder roared again, and leaned against both of them. "What do you feed him? Whole cows?"

"Twice a day," she said, and turned in his arms to kiss him. "What did you ask me?"

"I can't remember."

Cold, wet summer air came through the windows. When she shivered he pulled her closer. Somewhere he thought there was a movie playing, something they'd meant to watch, but he couldn't remember what it was. The Lab slid off the couch as the thunder waned and Tanner slid them both full length on it, Taylor lying close against his chest, arms around his neck. His hands pressed down her back, stroking, feeling the soft of the sweater she'd replaced her wet clothes with.

She sat up, making him reach for her like she was going away, and tugged at his t-shirt. "That can't be comfortable. It's still wet."

He shivered when her fingers came back to him, stroking the lines of his shoulders, his biceps, back to his chest and down the ribbed muscles of his abdomen. Her eyes glazed, lips parted, she moved her hands smoothly back up his chest, her fingers reaching up to his mouth, gently stroking his lips before she brought her mouth to his and kissed him, tongue hot in his mouth.

He pressed against her, harder than he could remember being in so long. Men he'd served with had married, or had long-term relationships, or a girl in every port, so to speak, because they weren't deployed all that often but they still managed, but Tanner? He'd told her the truth – no one in his family was military. He'd joined because he thought he wanted to go into medicine and there was a chance that way, because he was athletic and strong and had the mental and physical stamina, could push himself harder than anyone else could push him and could withstand anyone who tried to push him harder. But he didn't grow up in a military family and what he didn't tell Taylor was that he didn't know what to do when a girl clung to him and begged him not to go, as if by the time a mission was formed he had a choice.

Reservist
. For the first time it didn't sound so bad.

Her hands were sliding lower, following his smooth, hairless chest and the muscles along the side of his waist that dipped down into his jeans, like brackets moving closer together, guiding her hands.

Lower, sliding on the tops of his jeans. Now her hands seemed to be on fire. He slid his hands down the front of her sweater, along the soft rise of her breasts, thumbing her nipples which were rock hard and probably not from the cool night air because the rest of her body was burning. Taylor made a soft sound and pressed into him, her hands sliding into his jeans.

Stopping just short.

Overhead, thunder exploded with a crash that set the dishes in the kitchen rumbling. Monster unleashed a howl that clearly anticipated Armageddon had just happened and buried his head under Tanner's shoulders, cold, wet nose sending violent shivers along his spine. Tanner sat up fast, yelping. Taylor clung to him, and slid onto the floor.

Laughing.

Tanner pulled her back up into his lap, his mouth finding hers, but the moment was gone and it was their first date.

There had been a lot of first dates that ended in bed. There'd been a lot of first dates that had ended still in bed the next morning.

He wasn't looking for that with Taylor, a thought that confused him enough to kiss her once, lingeringly, before moving her gently so he could stand.

He took a long breath. So did she.

"I had a lovely time tonight," she said, her arms around his waist as she looked up into his eyes.

He framed her face with both hands and kissed her softly. "So did I."

She walked him to the door and he was already regretting the loss of her warmth pressed against him. He pulled his clammy t-shirt over his head. "I'll text or call tomorrow?" Last second he made it into a question when he hadn't initially thought to.

"I'd like that." She stood on tiptoe and kissed the side of his mouth, as if afraid to initiate anything more.

Then the front door was closing behind him and she was on one side and he was on the other.

He took a second to get his bearings. He'd been through all sorts of training for trauma. This felt like something that maybe should have been covered.

He'd call her tomorrow.

Tanner made himself go down the front steps and out to his Jeep and home.

H
e didn't call
her on Tuesday. On Tuesday he studied for a massive anatomy exam he was probably going to ace but a little more time with the books would be well spent. On Tuesday afternoon Angel and Jake sat down in his office uninvited and talked at him for a long time about the Las Vegas job until he agreed they could lower the bid if that's what it took to get the job and get them out of his office.

"Anything. Blow up buildings no one's asking you to blow up. Then bill them. But let me study?"

Angel's dark face wreathed in a smile. "You're not studying, boss. You're staring into space."

Tanner glowered. "That's how I think. Go away."

Angel and Jake exchanged glances, looked back at him, exchanged glances again, this time love sick ones with fluttering lashes. Dark, compact Angel and blond bodybuilder Jake made a weird couple.

Tanner threatened to fire them. Not that he could fire his partners. But it made them leave. Sometimes being the oldest and the most unattached of the group sucked. At twenty-eight, he had a year on Knox and six years on Jake.

He shut his office door behind them. Sat back down at his desk. Opened the book up to a random page. Stared at a spot about three inches over the top of the book.

Thought about Taylor.

T
uesday late afternoon
the call came in. Capsized fishing boat on the still roiling ocean. The storm the night before had moved out into the Pacific and was causing havoc.

"Coast Guard?" Tanner asked.

"Strung out thin," Mike said, suiting up. "Storm off the coast was stronger than by the coastline. There's a lot of rescues going on."

"What've we got?" Angel demanded. He'd be monitoring everything from the land side. Mike was taking the lead. Mike was part seal more than SEAL. He moved in the water like other people moved on land, only better.

"One of the whale watching boats," Mike said, his voice muffled as he rolled the top of his wetsuit down over his head to his waist. "Thirty passengers, crew of two, doesn't sound like anybody did anything wrong, sea's just too much for them. It's belly-up, people in the water."

"Life rafts?" Jake asked.

"Enough. Everyone's on something. But there are high waves and not enough tour people to take care of the tourist people in the rafts." That was Angel, finishing up the report they'd gotten. "I told them we'd be in the air in five. You've got one minute."

But Mike, Jake and Tanner were already running for the door. Knox came through it, nodded, slid to a stop at the communications array and waved them off.

The Chinook whirled to life, blades slicing the air, and Tanner took them up, angling them instantly over the coast, less than five minutes from call to flight time, heading out over the dark blue power of the Pacific.

S
ometimes everybody does
everything right and something still goes wrong. Sometimes fear gets the better of people and all bets are off.

Mike was in the water when it happened. Heading to one of the rafts when a wave caught it and flipped it neat as a pancake. Some fifteen people suddenly found themselves bobbing in the Pacific too far from shore to swim back, no bottom to plant their feet on. The tourists in the other rafts, the one without the trained whale watching crew, began trying to get to them, convinced the lifejackets everyone wore weren't enough. Panic spread. Over the communications system Jake firmly but calmly gave instructions for those who could swim well to help those that couldn't, to hold to the side of the raft until they could be reached, to remain
calm
because they were all wearing lifejackets and would float.

But, understandably in the still rough ocean, they panicked. And suddenly a savage businesswoman who might in everyday life be halfway pleasant, decided she was more important than the children in the group, more important than anyone else in the group and even if Tanner had wanted to put it down to terror, she'd still been angry and loud and screaming and at any rate, she climbed Mike like he was a flagpole and dragged him under.

Not that they weren't trained in how to rescue. Or trained in how to handle the hysterical. But in the thrashing and keeping himself above water and keeping her more above water if she'd just paid attention, she managed to drive him into the side of the overturned boat and break his leg.

So they rescued their own. Mike stayed there, seeing every one of them into the helicopter as the day wore on and the sea became rougher. Another storm was blowing in. Mike stayed in the water until the last of the whale watchers were taken aboard, bedraggled and still panicky, then motioned the basket down one more time.

Tanner swore. "He's injured."

Beside him Jake said, "That's our boy," and got ready to haul him onboard.

T
hings happen
.

Shit happens.

But it made him think. Emergencies happened a lot more often for some people. Like Search and Rescue. And SEALs.

M
ike's leg
was broken in three places. He'd had a couple tense moments he admitted when the substantial businesswoman had been pushing herself as far out of the water as she could get using Mike as her life raft.

"It happens," he said, waiting for the ER doc to send him for casting or wrapping or whatever they were going to do. "My leg broke the instant she pole danced me. Controlling her after that was a bitch."

Jake muttered something about just who the bitch in the situation had been.

"She was scared," Mike said, not quite exonerating the woman but back to his usual stoic self. "I know better."

"Than what?" Jake exploded. "Than to rescue the bi – woman? What were you supposed to do?" They called Jake "The Wall." When he paced, his muscled bodybuilder physique blocked out what they could see of the ER past the curtains. They didn't see the doctor coming back.

Mike shrugged. "Dial it down. Maybe I need a refresher on water rescue."

Which was like saying any of them needed a class on how to breathe, but Tanner just said, "Hell, that's play time for you, bro. We're supposed to pay for your vacation?"

"Hell yeah. Me in the water, I'm gold to you landlubbers." He grinned, despite the fact his face was still slick with sweat from the pain. He ran a hand through his sandy hair even while the others heaped on the abuse, because seriously,
landlubbers?

But when he repeated he wanted to get back in the water and a refresher course never hurt, despite the rest of them telling him he should
teach
classes, not
take
them, the doctor stepped through the curtains.

"Not either of those options for the next several weeks," he said, his singsong cadence making the medical advice sound like a taunt. "Mr. Hancock has broken his leg in several places. Let me show you, then outline the therapy, and then I'll tell you – " he paused, took in the huge men around him, and grinned, a five-foot-four Pakistani man about to tell the giant military dudes – "About your new cane."

T
he teasing didn't stop
for
hours
.

T
anner didn't stop thinking
for hours after that.

"
H
e didn't
call
," Taylor said, her voice a pitched whisper that still suggested a wail. "He didn't
call
, he didn't
text
, he didn't
email
, he didn't do anything!" She was aware of her heart beating a mile a minute under her plain white t-shirt and the margarita sliding too fast and too cold into her stomach, the tequila detonating there and making girlfriend solidarity that much more important. "He said he would! He said it as he was going! And I know he didn't want to go!"

"He'll call," Jessie said, her dark hair pulled back and her freckled face intent on offering all the girlfriend sympathy she could manage. She reached across the table and caught Taylor's wildly gesturing hands before Taylor could further endanger her alcohol. "He'll text. He'll send smoke signals. Sweetie, the man is search and rescue. Things happen. There could be a perfectly good reason why … what?"

Taylor's stomach went stone cold. Everything stilled into one horrible circle of scared. She grabbed Jessie's comforting hand and held it in a death grip. "Jess – what
if?
"

S
he didn't sleep
. She didn't eat. She went to work because not working would be worse.

Tuesday became Wednesday. He didn't call or text or email or come by her work or leave a message at her house.

"What's wrong with you, girlfriend?" Jason asked, not even via text in the Boring World approved way of looking like one wasn't shirking.

"He didn't call or text or write or come over," Taylor said in a flat voice. All her plans to volunteer and get in better shape and change her life and
have a boyfriend
– everything just vanished.

"He might still," Jason said. "People sometimes work during the week." He stroked her hair, having ventured all the way into her cubicle.

"He's search and rescue," she said dully. "I don't think they plan out searches
or
rescues like that."

Jason leaned in close, fey and concerned. "You
could
call
him
," he said. "Twenty-first century and all."

Taylor just nodded. "I did."

T
here wasn't
any breaking up to do. As long as he did it now. They'd had one date, one wonderful date, and he wanted to see her again, wanted to fulfill all the promises unstated but evident from that date. He wanted to take it slow and burn, on fire every anticipatory minute until they ended up in bed. He wanted –

To cut her loose. Because what had happened to Mike could happen to any of them. That, or something much worse.

He couldn't do that to her and he didn't know how to handle a girlfriend in those circumstances.

Even then his thumb hovered over his phone, wanting to text.

Tanner called on self-discipline, put his phone away, went back to work.