SEALs of Summer 2: A Military Romance Superbundle (94 page)

I
n his fifteen
years in the navy, Shane Heron had experienced some seriously nasty stuff. Hell Week. Life-threatening ops. A two-month stint in a Korean prisoner camp.

But having dinner with strangers? He could honestly say that freaked him out more than any grisly thing he’d ever seen or done.

Small talk was his enemy, followed closely by faking smiles and pretending to be interested in topics like mortgages, marriage, and the weather—all agonizing no matter what order you put them in. If he could’ve holed himself up in his hotel room for the duration of this San Diego trip, he would’ve done it in a heartbeat, but he hadn’t been able to say no when Lieutenant Carson Scott had asked him to stop by for dinner. It was the enlisted soldier in him—you never turn down a request from an officer.

So here he was, standing on the doorstep of a beautiful bungalow in Coronado, dressed in the nicest jeans and plaid shirt he owned, and playing the part of courteous guest by bringing along a bottle of Merlot.

The bright blue front door swung open two seconds after he’d rung the bell, revealing a tiny pixie of a woman with dark hair and green eyes. She greeted him with a delighted smile.

“Hi! You must be Senior Chief Heron! Do you want me to call you Senior Chief or can I just call you Shane? Or is it Shawn? Carson just referred to you as Senior, but that sounds weird to me.”

Her rapid-fire words made his head spin. “Uh. Shane is fine, ma’am.”

Those catlike eyes twinkled. “It’s Holly. And I’m not even thirty, so if you call me ma’am one more time, I’ll punch you.”

“Babe, did you just threaten a United States Navy SEAL?” A blond man appeared in the doorway, towering at least ten inches over the little brunette.

Shane gave an inward sigh of relief when he recognized Carson. They’d chatted at the base earlier after their teams had run a joint training demo, and he genuinely liked the other man. Not necessarily enough to subject himself to two hours of dinner-party torture, but he’d already made his bed, and now he had to lie in the damn thing.

“He knows I’m joking,” Holly protested. “Right, Shane?”

“Right, ma—Holly.”

“We’re glad you could make it.” Carson extended his hand.

“Lieutenant.” Shane leaned in for the handshake. “Thanks for having me.”

“Cut it out with that Lieutenant shit,” Carson said with a grin. “We’re off duty. It’s just Carson and Shane tonight.”

He nodded, though they both knew a SEAL was never off duty. The phone could ring at any moment, and they’d be wheels-up before Carson’s lovely wife could say “who wants seconds?”

Shane followed the couple inside, finding himself sandwiched between them as they headed for a doorway to their left.

“You should’ve warned me he was so handsome,” Holly told her husband. “If I’d known, I totally would’ve talked him up more to Jill.”

“You never asked,” Carson answered. “You’re right, though, Jill will eat him up.”

Um. Okay. Did they not realize he was squished between them during this very obvious discussion about
him
?

He cleared his throat. “I’m standing right here. You know that, right?”

“No, Shane, we thought you were gone,” Holly said sarcastically. She lingered in the doorframe, looking him up and down. “Your eyes are the darkest shade of blue I’ve ever seen. They’re gorgeous.”

Discomfort crawled up his throat, especially when he glanced over at Carson and noticed that not only was the other man completely unfazed about his wife checking out another man, he too was studying Shane’s “gorgeous” eyes with interest.

“Thank you?” Shane said awkwardly.

“Come on, I want to introduce you to Garrett and Shelby,” Carson said, taking pity on him. “You’ll love ’em.”

Hell in a hand basket. He hadn’t wanted to come in the first place, and things were already off to a very strange start. Shane made a mental note to respectfully decline any future invitations from the Scotts.

In the living room, he encountered another couple—John Garrett, a dark-haired former SEAL, and his wife Shelby, a pretty woman with sun-kissed blonde hair. The pair was friendly enough, and Shane made an effort to lower his guard as he chatted with Carson and the couple while Holly darted out of the room to check on dinner.

Making new friends wasn’t his strongest suit. Truth was, Alana had been his best friend, and she was all he’d ever needed.

The memory of his wife brought a lump to his throat, which he quickly had to choke back before the sadness took root. Two years had passed since Alana’s death, but he was nowhere close to putting it behind him. Sometimes he wondered if he ever would.

“So, Shane’s team got their asses kicked in the demo today,” Carson cheerfully told Garrett as the men cranked open their beer bottles.

“We were the terrorists,” Shane objected. “The good guys
always
win in training demos.”

“Nuh-uh.” Garrett looked smug. “The year Carson and I got assigned as tangos, we annihilated the good guys.”

“It’s true,” Carson confirmed. He sighed at his friend. “What’ll it take to convince you to come out of retirement, bro? Cash? A blowjob? Fine—I’ll full-on fuck you.”

Garrett’s wife broke out in laughter. “Keep your slutty hands off my husband, Carson.”

The blond man wiggled his eyebrows enticingly. “I didn’t say
you
couldn’t join in…”

“Tempting, but…” Shelby shrugged. “I think I want John around while we raise our daughter.” She shot Carson a pointed look. “You should consider it yourself—you’ve got a bun in the oven too now.”

Shane glanced at the other man. “You’re having a kid?”

The joy streaking across Carson’s face was impossible to miss. “Yep. Holly’s due in the spring.”

“Congratulations.” But the lump had returned, lodged in Shane’s throat like a rock.

He remembered having the same conversation with Alana—what they’d do when they started a family, if she’d leave her teaching position at the high school, if he’d leave the navy and work in the private sector. Moot points, all of them. Because a family hadn’t been in the cards for them.

Neither had marriage.

No, that wasn’t true. Shane swallowed his bitterness, refusing to fall into that old self-pity trap. He and Alana had spent eleven amazing years together. Some people weren’t as lucky, a reminder he clung to whenever the feeling of resentment arose.

Fortunately, the topic of babies was sidelined as Holly waltzed back into the living room.

With a goddess in tow.

Shane’s breath hitched when his gaze collided with the newcomer. Christ.
Goddess
really was the only fucking word to describe her. She was tall and curvy, the sexy combination emphasized by her skinny jeans and low-cut tank top. Hair the color of burnished copper fell over one shoulder in long waves, and her eyes were so vividly green it was like being back in the jungle again, amidst the lush foliage and thick vines.

When one perfectly shaped eyebrow cocked up at him, Shane realized he was staring, and he forcibly shifted his gaze to Holly, who gestured to the stunning redhead.

“Shane, this is Jillian Marshall. She manages the restaurant where I work. Jill, this is Shane Heron, one of Carson’s comrades from the east coast. And you know Shelby and Garrett.”

“Good to see you guys again.” Jill stepped forward to give Shelby a quick hug. A moment later, those mesmerizing green eyes sought out Shane again. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he said gruffly, sticking out his hand.

The second their palms touched, a shiver rolled through his body, but he covered it up with a brisk cough.

He didn’t miss the knowing glimmer that crossed her expression before she turned back to her friend. “So this is my unofficial tour guide, huh?”

Shane blinked in alarm.

“Confession,” Holly told him with a hasty laugh.

Oh crap. What was the damned pixie woman up to?

“We had an ulterior motive in inviting you tonight,” Holly admitted. “Jill’s moving to Virginia next week—Norfolk, actually—and she needs someone to give her the scoop about the city. Carson and I figured that since you live there, you could fill her in on all the local hot spots and that kind of stuff.”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I guess I can do that.”

“Awesome. I totally owe you one,” Jill said, looking delighted. “My brain was starting to hurt from reading all those Trip Advisor reviews.” She clapped her hands together. “C’mon, keep me company in the kitchen while I make myself a drink.”

Shane didn’t have a chance to object—the woman had grabbed his hand and was practically dragging him away.

As he heard Carson’s faint chuckle from behind them, the man’s words from earlier buzzed into his brain.

Jill will eat him up
.

Christ. As appealing as that sounded now that he’d met the woman, Shane sincerely hoped she wasn’t looking for a hook-up. He was leaving town tomorrow, and even if he weren’t, he didn’t do one-night stands with women he knew, or women who were friends with people he knew—either option led to headaches he wanted to avoid, the potential for sides to be taken and people to get pissed.

Granted, he didn’t know Carson and Holly very well, but Jill was still their friend and he was still a guest in their home, which meant that no matter how hot the woman was, he was implementing a strict hands-off policy tonight.

Could anyone say
yummy
?

Jill Marshall certainly could. And she was saying it quite a lot in her head as she openly checked out her friend’s dinner guest. Shane Heron. Jeez—even his
name
was sexy, the cherry sitting on top of the most delicious-looking muscle sundae she’d ever come across.

Holly had left all the necessary ingredients for margaritas on the counter, and Jill went over to the work island in the middle of the kitchen, trying not to drool over Shane Heron’s rock-hard body. As she reached for the bottle of tequila, she noticed him watching her with a dry expression.

“You know,” he remarked, “normally when you’re invited to a dinner party, you’re not expected to prepare your own drinks.”

Jill snorted. “Ha. Holly knows better than to try and make my drinks for me. Her cocktails aren’t half as good as mine—I was the bartender and sommelier at the restaurant before I took over for Drake. Drake’s our boss. He used to run Primrose, but he left me in charge when he opened the San Francisco location because he needed to be onsite while it was getting off the ground.”

She paused to take a breath, and from his spot on the other side of the counter, Shane’s dark blue eyes looked slightly dazed. “Do you always talk this much?”

“Yup. Do you always talk this little?”

“Yes.” He shifted in visible discomfort. “So you were a sommelier, huh? You must really know your wine, then.”

God, his voice was so deep, with a slight rasp that made her shiver. It was as sexy as the man himself, and her heart did a little flip when she noticed those intense eyes were still fixed on her. Although his plaid shirt and jeans were casual to the core, they couldn’t hide the warrior body straining beneath them. The only drawback to his ruggedly masculine appearance was his closely cropped hair—she loved running her fingers through a man’s hair.

Pity. Guess she’d just have to run her fingers over other parts of him.

Dream on. Dude’s clearly not interested.

As much as she hated to admit it, her internal sex gauge had a point. Most men didn’t require a lot of persuasion to flirt—or hop into bed—with her, but she suspected this one would not be easily persuaded. He seemed to be making a conscious effort to keep his distance by standing all the way on the other side of the kitchen, and his gaze lacked the lascivious gleam she was accustomed to in the company of men.

“Jill?”

She realized she’d forgotten to answer him, and hearing her name leave his lips only distracted her again. What had he asked? Right. Something about wine.

She splashed tequila into the stainless steel shaker already filled with ice, then glanced over at him. “Yeah, I guess I’m somewhat of a wine expert,” she admitted. “My father owns a vineyard in Napa, so I grew up in the ‘wine lifestyle’.” She air-quoted that last part, paused, then offered a self-deprecating grin. “Aw shit, I sound like a real snob, don’t I?”

“Not at all.”

“Bullcrap. That sounded snobby as hell. The
wine lifestyle
? Mental note—never phrase it like that again.” Her jaw dropped when Shane barked out a laugh. “Oh my God. He laughs. I was wondering if you’d be able to keep up that somber face the whole night.”

“I laugh all the time,” he muttered.

“I don’t believe you.” She slanted her head. “Dude, you strike me as perpetually intense. I’d say it’s a military thing, but I know too many military men with a sense of humor. Carson, for one. Garrett. All the other jokers on their team.”

“You think I don’t have a sense of humor?” He raised one dark eyebrow. “That’s a huge assumption considering you don’t even know me.”

“Fine. Prove me wrong. Tell me a joke.” She added triple sec and lime juice to the mixture, then shook it vigorously for a few seconds. When she was done, she turned to Shane with a look of challenge.

“Fine,” he mimicked. “I’ll tell you a joke.” He looked adorably sexy as he mulled it over for a moment. “Okay, so a husband says to his wife,
tell me something that will make me happy and sad at the same time
.” Shane paused for effect. “The wife thinks about it, then says—
your dick is bigger than your brother’s
.”

Jill faltered for a beat. Then broke out in giggles. “Oh fuck. That’s a pretty good one. I take it back—you’re hilarious.”

He rewarded her with a grin that promptly melted her insides. Goddamn, the man was hot, especially when he flashed those perfect white teeth and an enticing dimple appeared in his chin.

“Uh, anyway…” Just like that, he reverted back to gruff and serious, and a pang of disappointment tugged on her gut. “So…what do you want to know about Norfolk?”

“Anything. Everything. Drake’s opening up a fancy-pants steakhouse there, and I’ll be half owner of that one. We’re calling it the Hampton Grill.” She couldn’t contain her excitement. It had taken years of meticulous saving, but she’d finally been able to raise the necessary funds to invest in her own future.