To Seduce a SEAL (Sin City SEALs) (2 page)

Chapter Two

You’re fired.

As soon as she could breathe, Chrissie planned to kick Jared, the backup singer masquerading as a cowboy, out of the music video. Or maybe she’d wait until after the shoot. They couldn’t afford the time it would take to find another backup singer…

But I might never say those words. I might never inhale oxygen again.

Her backup singer’s mouth claimed hers and erased any hope of regaining her breath. And his hips thrust against her as if he was doing everything in his power to prove he could ruin her music video. She tried to claw her way free from the train-wreck of a kiss. But Jared had finally decided to commit to his role.

If only you’d bothered to learn the choreography, you would know we’re not shooting a domestic violence PSA.

She fought harder as black dots clouded her vision. One last push and…

She was clawing at the air. The weight of Jared’s body had disappeared. She could breathe. She could move.

Chrissie opened her eyes, still gulping for precious air.

Crunch!

Her jaw dropped as she watched a man twice Jared’s size punch her backup singer.

Or former backup singer. He was still fired.

After the video shoot.

The tall, dark-haired wall of muscle drove his other fist into Jared’s gut, and the smaller man crumbled like a wannabe cowboy who’d wandered into the corral and picked a fight with the real deal. Her backup singer doubled over and dropped to his knees at the larger man’s feet.

Or maybe her savior was a body builder with a hero complex.

She turned her attention to the man who’d rushed in to save the day. Oh, he had muscles all right. But she suspected he didn’t spend all of his time in the gym.

“Stay down.” Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome growled.

Jared whimpered and looked as if he might cry.

The man who’d rushed in and rescued her turned to her. His expression softened as his deep brown eyes scanned her from head to toe. A lock of his wavy, dark hair fell over his forehead.

Her hero looked as if he’d stolen Patrick Dempsey’s hair and Channing Tatum’s muscles. And to her impromptu rescue she was wearing a witch’s wig that had been on clearance at the Halloween store.

But without the ugly wig, someone might recognize her, and she’d be stuck signing autographs instead of rehearsing.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” he asked.

“Fine.” She gasped, still fighting to regain her equilibrium.

His brow furrowed as he reached into one of the many pockets lining his shorts. He withdrew a cell phone. “Would you like me to call the police?”

“No,” she said quickly. “Really, I’m fine.”

His concern deepened as if the word “fine” meant something altogether different to him.

She offered him her best smile, the one that won over audiences night after night.

“I saw what happened,” he said. “I can give a statement. It won’t be your boyfriend’s word against yours.”

“Chris—” Jared started.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Chrissie said, cutting Jared off before he could reveal her identity to the stranger. “We’re backup singers.
Both of us.
We’re shooting a music video out here later today. And we wanted to get in some practice.” She forced a fake laugh. “Clearly, we need it.”

The man with the movie star muscles took a step back. “Music video?”

“Uh-huh. The song is about lust, love, and well…” She bit her lower lip and glanced at her feet. “Sex. It’s a country song.”

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, drawing attention to his biceps.

One touch. Just one.

But she fought the temptation. She needed the handsome stranger to continue with his hike through the canyons before he recognized her. Or decided to call the cops despite her protests.

“I don’t know much about country music,” he said.

Shoot! I should have said hip-hop.

But he would have seen right through that excuse. She didn’t exactly look like she could compete in Beyoncé’s market. She had a much better shot at winning over the hearts—and wallets—of the fans who’d listened to Taylor Swift before she’d started shaking it off.

“But I thought it was about pickups, dogs, and honoring fallen soldiers,” he continued. “Like the girl who wrote that song about her brother.”

That’s me.

She’d written the mournful ballad the day someone from the Navy arrived at their trailer in Central Florida and handed her parents a folded flag and a thank-you for your son’s service. Her lyrics had hit a nerve and propelled her to fame. But if she wanted to keep her place in the spotlight—and the paychecks that supported her parents and siblings—her label wanted a fun song. And they’d demanded a sexy music video shot in Las Vegas’s Red Rock Canyon to go with it.

With a backup singer who’d probably fit in better on a Taylor Swift tour wearing sequins instead of a Stetson.

But she didn’t have the time or money to waste on finding the perfect cowboy for her shoot. By eight o’clock tonight, she needed to be ready to walk onstage for the second performance of her Vegas tour stop.

“Some of country music is about those things,” she conceded.

“And maybe tractors,” he added. “But not the other stuff.”

She pressed her lips together. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome was right. He didn’t know a thing about country music.

“Country comes from the heart,” she said. “Sure, maybe there are a few cowboys out there who sing about their favorite tractor. And I bet their heart is in it. But my—”

He cocked his head and studied her.

“My singer, the one I work for,” she continued, stumbling over the words. “
His
songs are about love and loss and…”

“Sex?” he said dryly.

She nodded and then looked past him to Jared. “Let’s try that again. We want to get it right—”

“He’s not going to try anything again.” Her mystery man stepped in front of Jared.

“Look,” she said, no longer bothering with her fake smile. “I need to nail this music video. It might seem silly to you, but this is my job. So unless you know how to stage a make-out scene against a rock, I’ll have to ask you to move on and let us work.”

“I don’t know about staging.” His arms moved to his sides as if he were preparing to pounce. His dark eyes met hers. “But I’ve had some experience kissing against this wall of rock.”

Then kiss me.

Her lips parted as if she’d said those words out loud. She wouldn’t ask the man who looked like he’d walked out of her fantasies for a kiss. It was tempting… But she never gave in to desire. She’d fought the lure of the doughnuts on the catering table for the past year.

But his kiss might be better than a chocolate doughnut.

Still…she didn’t have a lot of experience with alpha males or kisses. She’d gone from helping her family make ends meet by working as a cashier, to a twenty-three-year-old country star. And she’d been too focused on her music during her grocery store checkout days to pay much attention to boys.

“And honey,” the mystery man continued, his voice a low growl. “I know how to seduce a woman, how to kiss her until she’s breathless.
Without
knocking the wind out of her.”

Temptation, here I come!

“If you’re such an expert,” she shot back before her common sense locked the impulsive desire behind a door labeled “do not open.” “Then show me.”

…

Dante had thought he’d hit rock bottom in the weeks following his surgery. His SEAL team had left California for a training exercise. His ex-wife had remarried, promising to love and cherish his former plumber. And his Italian mother had invaded his home. He’d never felt so damn useless.

Until he’d rushed over to rescue the freaking backup singer who didn’t need saving. Shit, the only thing the spitfire in the butt-ugly wig needed was a man who knew how to kiss.

And I sure as hell didn’t lose that skill when I tore up my knee.

He could do this. Whether he should…that was another question. And one he didn’t want to contemplate right now. He’d rather focus on his self-assigned mission—kiss the woman in the weird wig.

Dante took a step forward and watched as her lips parted. She pressed her palms against the red rock and arched her back. His gaze dropped to her chest. Those breasts—hell, she put every dancer in Vegas to shame.

He closed the space between them and placed his hands on her shoulders. Keeping his touch featherlight, he ran his palms down her arms. He reached her hands and intertwined his fingers with hers. Slowly, he drew her arms up and pinned her hands over her head.

She stared up at him, her blue eyes wide with wonder. She looked so damn innocent. His gaze skimmed over her mouth, down her neck, to the swells visible above her sports bra.

“Show me more,” she murmured.

He was tempted. His hard-on pressed against his shorts.

“Your hands stay here,” he ordered. “Understood?”

She nodded.

He released her and ran his palms down her arms.
So damn soft.
He reached her shoulders and headed south, allowing his fingers to roam her curves. His thumbs skimmed the sides of her breasts as his palms slid down her sides. When he came to her slim, yet firm, thighs, he drew her legs up until he was nestled between her limbs.

Hooyah.
His dick hadn’t been this happy in months. And yeah, tempting didn’t begin to cover what he felt, what he wanted. But…

This was insane. This wasn’t a mission. And he didn’t know this woman. Hell, she could be playing some twisted game with him. He’d kiss her and the next thing he knew, her boyfriend would jump him from behind.

He released her and stepped back. He glanced over his shoulder at the shirtless man still kneeling in the dust and…

What the hell? Staring at
his
ass?

Dante didn’t know what to believe. The story about the country music video—shot in Vegas of all places—seemed like a bold-faced lie. Sure, he was in town to meet up with a country starlet. But as far as he knew, she wasn’t shooting a video like the dude who sang about love and sex.

Logic told him to walk away. And yeah, another part of him tried to redirect his thinking and kiss the girl. Maybe he’d knock her crazy wig off in the process and see her true hair color.

Or maybe he’d let passion lead him into another crash and burn. One failed marriage and a series of meaningless flings proved there were two organs he couldn’t trust when it came to women—his heart and his dick.

He released her hands and stepped back. “That should help you with your video shoot.”

She nodded. “It’s a start. But—”

“I need to head out,” he cut in before she asked for a kiss and his erection vetoed his common sense. “I’m meeting someone. But before I go, I’d like to walk you back to your car.”

“You’re sweet.” She wrapped her arms around her bare stomach. It was strange, but he swore she looked more shaken by his touch, and the way he hadn’t kissed her, than the man who’d slammed her into a freaking canyon wall.

“Not sweet,” he said. “But I know that if a woman is about to pass out while I’m kissing her, I’m doing something that should land me in a jail cell.” He shot another hard look at the man on the ground. He was 95 percent certain the other man wouldn’t hurt her. But still, he wasn’t willing to risk her safety. “If you won’t let me call the police, I’ll have to insist on escorting you to your car.”

“But Jared isn’t going to hurt me,” she continued. “And we really do need to rehearse.”

“Not here,” he said firmly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone with him.”

“Please, Ms. Ta—”

“Fine,” she said, cutting the other man off. “We’ll go.”

She picked up a red hiking backpack and stormed away to the parking area, calling over her shoulder. “Come on, Jared. Thanks to your performance, you just might get a nap in before the hair and makeup call.”

The shirtless man scrambled to his feet and followed the woman whose backside rivaled her front. Dante stared, memorizing the way her jeans hugged her ass. Her body reminded him of Britney Spears. Not that he’d ever listened to her music. But his kid sister had put up a poster in her room of the blond pop star in a schoolgirl’s outfit.

The woman wearing the wig was older than the classic teenage Britney. Probably in her twenties. But hell, he’d love to see her trade in her jeans for that skirt. Toss in a pair of thigh-high stockings…

Fuck me.

Dante turned away. Yeah, he’d reached a new low, all right. He should be focused on his knee, not some strange chick who wore a wig to a damn canyon.

He glanced over his shoulder and watched as the black hair disappeared into a blue car that looked nothing like a rental. His jaw tightened. He had a bad feeling she hadn’t been telling him the whole truth and nothing but the truth. But at least she’d climbed into the car alone. The guy she claimed to be working with headed for a nondescript white sedan. And yeah, that one screamed rental.

He started walking down the path and then picked up the pace. He pushed past the pain. At least the aching sensations gave him something to focus on beyond the fact that he still wanted to kiss the woman, even though he was fairly certain she was a crazy liar.

Like my ex-wife in a wig.

Except his ex had wanted the plumber all to herself. She’d never tried to involve Dante in her sex games with the man he’d hired to fix the pipes while he was out ridding the world of terrorists.

“What did you do?” Ronan called as he ran up to Dante’s side and slowed his pace. “Walk in circles? You’re about where I left you.”

“I stopped to take a phone call,” Dante lied. There was no way he was telling his teammate that he’d tried to rescue a damsel who wasn’t exactly in distress. Though she had been fighting for breath. But maybe that was how she got her kicks.

“Your mom?” Ronan asked. “Is she still worried about you? You know if she wants to come out and share the hotel suite, I wouldn’t object to a homemade lasagna.”