SEAL the Deal (34 page)

“I guess. I mean, my career is here. My
friends are here. But I never really thought I’d stay here forever, if that’s
what you mean.”

Mick brightened. “Really?” The ring box in
his pocket was suddenly burning a hole in the side of his pants.

“Right now, it’s just the only choice I
really have,” she continued.

Mick’s palms were sweating like faucets. He
hadn’t been this nervous on his last SEAL mission. Almost laughing, he wiped
them on his napkin. “Well, maybe you do have some other choices.” He stopped
again and shook his head, frustrated. “It’s just that, Lacey—”

“Lacey?”

Mick stopped abruptly as a woman
approached their table.

Lacey’s expression immediately changed as
she glanced up at the woman. Her game face was on, Mick noticed. It must be a
client.

“Mrs. Templeman.” Lacey extended her hand.
“It’s so good to see you. Mick, this is Mrs. Templeman. I listed her property
in Harbor’s Edge community.”

“Of course.” Mick had already risen from
his chair to shake her hand. “Lacey’s talked about your property. It sounds
stunning.”

“Only because Lacey staged it that way. Almost
makes me want to stay in the house, except that I’m so anxious to move to Hawaii.”
The woman beamed. “Meeting Lacey at my mother’s funeral was the only good thing
that happened that day.”

Mick watched all expression fall from
Lacey’s face. She swayed a little in her chair, as though chugging that glass
of Chardonnay had been a huge mistake.

Mick tilted his head in Lacey’s direction.
“You knew her mother?”

Barreling on, the older woman touched
Lacey’s shoulder in a maternal gesture. “It was so good of her to come that day.
You know, not many people were even there. Mom didn’t have many friends toward
the end since she had outlived them all. And we really are a small family.”

Lacey’s smile strained. “I was glad to be
there.”

“Well, I don’t want to take up any more of
your evening together,” Mrs. Templeman said with a brief nod to the waiter as
he started to place their dinner entrees in front of them. “I just thought I’d
say hello. Have a lovely evening. And you take good care of her,” she finished
pointedly at Mick. “She’s a peach.”

Looking nauseous, Lacey stared at the
salmon in front of her.

“Are you okay?” Taking her hand, Mick made
a mental note to remind Lacey not to drink on an empty stomach. Her face was
ashen and her hands clammy.

“Fine.” She pulled her hand away and grabbed
her water glass.

“She owns that new waterfront listing you
have, right? The gated one?”

Lacey nodded.

“When did her mother die?”

Lacey shrugged. “Oh, a few months ago.”

“I didn’t know that someone you knew had
died. I’m sorry, Lacey. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Still staring at her plate, Lacey’s
whisper was barely audible. “I didn’t actually know her, Mick.” Mick could see
her throat caught in a long, hard swallow. “Back when I was really desperate
for some good listings, I’d sort of go to funerals to meet people.”

Mick was mystified. “To meet people? At
funerals?”

“Well, um, yes. People at funerals
sometimes end up at a place in their lives where they want to sell their
property. You know, to find something smaller. Or cash in on their inheritance.”

“Oh.” Mick scooped some potatoes au gratin
onto his fork. Something clicked in his brain. Loudly. More like a bomb going
off than a click, actually. “You mean, to meet the widows?”

“Or widowers. Or remaining family
members.” Lacey wary eyes finally met his. “Like Mrs. Templeman. She had been
living with her elderly mother when she died and was anxious to finally move on
with her life.”

Realization dawning, a burning sensation
sizzled in Mick’s throat. “Or like Mrs. B?”

Lacey just stared at him.

“Lacey, did you know Doc?”

She looked out the window. “I knew of
him.”

Pulse racing, Mick slammed his fist on the
table causing heads to turn. “Don’t give me that bullshit.”

Lacey’s eyes flared. “Let me finish. I did
know of him. I read about him. That’s the truth. But that’s it. No, I never met
him.” She took a deep breath. “And yes, I crashed his funeral hoping that maybe
Edith might be interested in selling her property down the line.”

“You crashed Doc’s funeral?” he repeated
in disbelief. A chill tore through him. “All this time, acting like you were
some sort of friend of the family.”

“I never acted like that, Mick. I never
led anyone on.”

“Does Mrs. B know this?”

“No.”

“So you swoop into funerals to prey on the
heirs, is that what it is? Trying to catch them at their most vulnerable moment
so you can make a profit off of it?”

“No. It’s not like that. If they’re not in
a position to sell, I would never think of pressuring them.”

Seeing her eyes well up with tears, Mick
fought the urge to reach out and console her. He was a fool.

Her lip quivered. “You don’t know what
it’s like—trying to get started in this business. I haven’t had to do it
since I started meeting people with all this volunteer work I’ve been doing.”

Another devastating thought occurred to
him. “My God, that’s why you volunteered for her, isn’t it? For Mrs. B? Gave
all your time for the hospital fundraiser? It was just to get on her good side.
To stay in her life just in case she wanted to sell her damn house. And all
this time I thought it was because you had a good heart.”

“It isn’t,” Lacey started, then her gaze
dropped. “No, it is,” she corrected.

“So is that why you slept with me, Lacey? Is
that why you’re here right now? Just circling around Mrs. B’s scope of friends like
some sort of vulture until she wants to sell?”

“No!” Lacey shouted, slamming her napkin
down on the table and darting out of the room in tears.

Mick’s face was a furnace. He felt the curious
eyes of the people around him in the restaurant. Let them look, he thought
gravely. He didn’t give a damn if they pulled up a chair.

Betrayal swelling inside him with each
passing minute, he sat at the table alone until the waiter approached asking if
he wanted dessert.

“Definitely not,” he grumbled. “We’ll be
leaving as soon as she gets back from the restroom. Could you bring me the
check, please?”

The waiter nodded, darting a somewhat
confused look in the direction of the lobby. He returned minutes later. “Excuse
me sir, but I felt I should tell you, the lady you were with left in a cab several
minutes ago.”

Perfect. Just perfect.

“Open this door, you goddamn son of a bitch!”

After a nearly sleepless night, someone
banging relentlessly on his door wasn’t the best way to wake up.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Open this door, Mick, or I’ll kick it
in!”

Mick groaned at the recognition of Maeve’s
pissed-off voice likely waking up the entire row of townhomes along the parade
field. His head throbbing, he threw the window open. “Shut up, Maeve, or the Marines
at the gate will blow your head off.”

She stood glaring, hands on her hips. “I’ll
just duck and let them kill you instead, you bastard.”

Mick looked up and down the street to see
how much attention she was attracting. He rolled his eyes and waved feebly at a
Captain down the road staring at their scene as he hesitated to get into his
car.

He charged downstairs to let her in. There
was no other option short of calling the MPs.

He flung open the door. “
I’m
a
bastard? I’m sorry, but I’m not really sure exactly what
I
did wrong
here.”

“You made the most devoted, caring person
I have ever known cry her eyes out last night.”

Mick fought the faint tug on his heart. As
furious as he was, he couldn’t bury the feelings he had for Lacey. “Well, I’m
so damn sorry if I was a little taken aback when I learned that my girlfriend
preys on the elderly for profit. I teach ethics, for God’s sake, and meanwhile
Lacey is trying to cash in on the most vulnerable people she can find. Even
Mrs. B. When was she planning on telling me this? After I was old and grey and
she tried to sell
my
house?”

“She tried to tell you. You told her that
you didn’t want to know what goes on during her work day.”

“Never.
Never
did she try to tell
me.”

“Oh, yes, she did. When you jumped to the
conclusion that Lacey was trying to sell Edith’s house.”

Mick sputtered an instant remembering, and
then rallied his defenses. “And I see now that I was right.”

“You are
not
right,” Maeve fumed,
grabbing a nearby mug and sending it crashing into the ground full force.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing,
Maeve?”

“I’m from the South. When we get mad, we
throw things.”

“Not in this house,” Mick spewed back.

“Lacey never pressured her to sell her
house. Ask Edith. Go ahead. If anything, she changed her mind, just like she
did me.”

That caught Mick’s attention. “You?”

“Aha! Yeah, you don’t know that either, do
you, you know-it-all pain-in-the-ass? My Gram’s funeral was the first one she
crashed.”

“
What
?”

“I was already going through hell in my
life, but then Gram dies on top of everything else. You talk about vulnerable? I
was the dictionary definition of it. I met Lacey and contacted her only a
couple weeks later about selling Gram’s house. She had nothing back then. She
rented a cheap room in a house with a bunch of loud college students a decade
younger than she was ”

Mick was feeling sick, the image forming
in his mind of Lacey struggling to get by.

“She needed that listing, Mick. She needed
me to sell Gram’s house so badly she could taste it. But you know what she did?
She convinced me that the house was meant for me. She saw the vision I had for
it, the memories there that I couldn’t let go of. She flat out refused to list
it.” Maeve squared her shoulders. “You stand there judging Lacey’s integrity? Well,
maybe integrity has always been cut and dry to you. Maybe you’ve been so
sheltered that you never had to find some gray area just so you could make ends
meet.”

Now Mick’s temper flared. “Sheltered? I’ve
been to war, for God’s sake.”

“That doesn’t make you better than any of
us. That doesn’t mean you know what it’s like in a world where no one salutes
when you walk down the street.” Shaking her head, she reached for the door. “I
thought you’d be good for her. I thought you were one of the good guys. Maybe I
was wrong.”

She flung the door open to find the tall,
broad form of a man on the other side. He stood there in uniform, his chest
full of ribbons, and the tiniest hint of gray coming in around his temples.

Mick snapped to attention at the sight of
the senior officer.

Still fuming, Maeve gave the older man an
obvious head-to-toe appraisal and muttered, “Does everyone have to be so damn
good-looking around here?”

She bounded down the steps.

Captain Joe Shey’s grinning eyes followed Maeve
as she blazed a path across the parade field, her feisty hips swaying as she
darted along. Stepping into Mick’s home, he bent to pick up a piece of broken
coffee mug. “Making new friends in Annapolis, I see, Mick.”

“Sir. I wasn’t expecting you.” Mick was
poker-faced, but he seethed inside at the sight of the man who had stonewalled
his career. A flood of memories of his last mission rushed back. The searing heat
and the taste of sweat. Sharp winds thick with sand that cut into his face even
as blood streamed down his side. The ache of Lieutenant Sully’s body flung over
his shoulder as he charged to the secondary extraction point.

Suddenly, he wasn’t in Annapolis anymore. He
was back in Afghanistan fighting for his life and the lives of his team.

Captain Shey’s voice dragged him back to
reality. “I know you weren’t. We need to talk. You alone?”

“Except for you, Sir.”

“Good. Got coffee?”

“Yes, Sir. In the kitchen.”

Mick made himself and the Captain a cup of
instant.

“Sit down, Mick,” Captain Shey ordered,
his hand gesturing to the kitchen table. “I know I’m not your favorite person
right now.”

Mick sat across from the man, bitterness
tingeing the sides of his eyes and slowly spreading across his face. “Respectfully,
Sir, how many calls did it take? To undo my San Diego orders and get me sent
here?”

“Took more than I thought it would. You’ve
got a few Admirals in your back pocket I wasn’t expecting. And you’re highly
decorated. Navy Cross, for God’s sake. Hell, you’re a damn superstar.” He
laughed a little, at complete ease in the situation, and leaned back in his
chair. “I put you in for the Medal of Honor, by the way, for your last
mission.”