To Seduce a SEAL (Sin City SEALs) (3 page)

Aw hell, could this day get any worse?

“We’re not inviting my mom to Vegas.” Dante turned and headed for the parking area. His knee, and his pride, had taken enough abuse for one morning. At this point, the only thing keeping him going was the fantasy of what it would have been like to press that singer’s lips against his.

Chapter Three

Dante stepped into the hotel’s hospitality suite…and his day spiraled into clusterfuck territory. Sure, the men in suits appeared unarmed. And yeah, boxes of pastries and doughnuts lined the folding table in the corner, filling the room with an intoxicating scent that beat his usual doom-and-gloom scenario. But the woman he’d “saved” this morning stood in the center of the room.

She’d ditched the long black wig. And an
I Heart Nashville
T-shirt now covered her sports bra. Still, he’d memorized her curves earlier. Now, he had a pretty good guess which music video the backup singer was shooting.

“
His” video my ass. I knew she was lying.

The woman he’d attempted to rescue didn’t work for some cowboy who sang love songs. She worked for Chrissie Tate. Hell, she probably knew Casey, Ronan’s girlfriend.

“Ms. Tate.” A man in a three-piece suit that seemed at odds with his shoulder-length hair stood and headed for the center of the room. “I’d like to introduce you to the soldiers who have offered their leave from the army—”

“We’re with the Navy, sir,” Ronan cut in. “The SEAL teams.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dante saw eyes widening. A young lady wearing a hotel uniform just about dropped the pastries she was unloading.

“Of course,” the suit said as he stopped beside the woman Dante had almost kissed in the canyon. “These Navy SEALs will be keeping an eye on you while we’re in Vegas.”

Dante’s gaze narrowed. He studied the blonde who’d flat-out lied to him this morning. She didn’t work for a country star. She
was
the freaking star! Miss Chrissie Tate, America’s current country sweetheart.

“It’s nice to meet you gentlemen,” she said with a cursory nod in their direction.

Look at me dammit!

“But I don’t need bodyguards. I’ve been careful to wear different wigs when I go out. It’s not like I’m a Kardashian. No one’s recognized me so far.”

“Ms. Tate,” the suit said carefully. “You found a fan in your trailer in Phoenix.”

“One crazed fan,” she said firmly. “Plus the venue here is providing security. On their dime. Not ours.”

The suit shook his head. “Your safety comes first. I’ll rework the budget, but we both know you can afford a little added muscle. And these soldiers—”

“They’re sailors, Mason,” the starlet said. “And what kind of manager are you? You’re supposed to help me make money, not spend it all.”

“Ms. Tate,” Ronan said, stepping forward. “I served with your brother. And I can’t think of a better way to honor his memory than to keep you safe, ma’am.”

Her tough-as-nails expression vanished as she turned to Dante’s redheaded teammate. “You knew Joe?”

“Not well. And I wasn’t with him on his last deployment. I’d joined the SEAL teams by then. But I know he’d want me to look out for his little sister.” He held out his hand. “I’m Ronan.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said. “I still don’t think I need two Navy SEALs to watch over me. But you’re welcome to stay for tonight’s show.”

“How about you let us do our job, Ms. Tate,” Ronan said.

“Call me Chrissie, please,” she murmured.

“We won’t be in your way.”

“Yes, but—”

“Dante Raske, my teammate here, is still recovering from an injury he received while saving a hostage from the bad guys. If you don’t let him work for you, he’s probably going to die of boredom waiting for his knee to heal.”

Ah hell, make her think I’m half a SEAL why don’t you?

Dante assumed a parade rest position, his hands behind his back and his gaze on a point behind the starlet’s head. Just this morning, he’d been tempted to kiss her. He’d walked out of the canyon still fantasizing about her in a sinfully short skirt.

And now he had to work for her.

“You’re injured?” She turned to him and placed her hands on her hips. “And you were still able to—”

Lift you up, wrap your legs around my waist, and thrust my rock-hard dick against you.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said before she revealed to the room filled with suits on her payroll—not to mention Ronan—that he’d beat up her backup singer. Although she might have been lying about that guy’s identity, too.

Why the hell was he always attracted to women who spun the truth to suit themselves?

Her blue eyes remained locked with his. He swore he saw a hint of admiration. But damn if it wasn’t riding on the back of the same primal interest he’d felt when he’d pressed her up against the rock. He knew what it looked like, because it mirrored his desire to finish what they’d started in the canyon.

But she wasn’t the backup singer. She was the star he needed to protect. And even if she wasn’t his boss, he was done playing fast and loose with his heart. He didn’t need a Vegas fling with a side of complications.

“I’ll give you one night,” she said. “But in the morning, I think we’ll all agree that I don’t need around-the-clock bodyguards.”

Without another glance in his direction, Ms. Chrissie Tate pushed through the door that separated the greenroom from the casino.

“Ma’am,” Dante said, moving to follow her.

“Quick trip to the ladies’.” She waved them off. “You don’t need to follow me there, do you?”

The door slammed behind her.

Dante shook his head. “Yeah, actually we do.”

“Give her some space,” Ronan said. “Until she’s comfortable with having us watch her six.” His teammate glanced at the suits. “Watch her back,” he clarified for the businessmen.

Dante nodded. He planned on keeping his distance. Even though he had a list of reasons to steer clear of complications, he still wanted to claim that kiss.

But that was why he’d been hired to protect her. He’d bet half her fans took one look at the All-American country star with a body that would make most Vegas strippers weep with envy, and those fans wanted a piece of her, too.

Not on my watch.

This time, he would keep the girl safe without landing himself on the sidelines.

…

“This is all your fault, Mr. SEAL.”

Chrissie placed her hands on her hips and waited for the overqualified bodyguard—whom she didn’t want or need—to respond. Sarcasm, anger, maybe a smile, she’d take any response that offered a hint of emotion. She’d been waiting for a few choice words about her deception this morning since he followed her to the ladies’ room earlier.

So far he’d been professional. Period.

And he appeared determined to stick to the employer/employee routine. Her bodyguard scanned the music video set as if programmed on autopilot. Observe the surroundings. Calculate the risk factors. Eliminate danger. And repeat.

She doubted that he’d found a threat. The only person he seemed likely to attack, Jared, the backup singer who was supposed to be out here suffering under the afternoon desert sun, had called in sick.

“Jared bailed because of you,” she continued. “And now, Mr. SEAL, I’m paying a crew to stand around.”

“Dante,” he said, his gaze landing on her for a brief second before returning to the open space. “Please call me Dante.”

She cocked her head and examined the wall of muscle. “Named after the author who wrote about the layers of hell?”

“After my Neapolitan grandfather.”

The corner of his mouth twitching upward. Finally, a reaction from Mr. No Nonsense SEAL.

“That explains the Italian features,” she muttered, studying his profile. His dark Patrick Dempsey locks would probably look great on-camera. And he was 100 percent alpha male.

But he wasn’t a cowboy. She needed the all-American look for her video love interest.

She turned and glanced back at the crew. Mason, her manager, was on his phone, trying to find a replacement for Jared.

Some people probably considered a Navy SEAL as all-American as a cowboy. And women might forgive the Italian features for a glimpse at those muscles…

Me! Me! Me!

“Seeing as this is your fault,” she began, her tone professional. Businesslike even. Because she was about to ask for a favor that had nothing to do with wanting to feel his body up against hers one more time.

“That’s a matter of opinion, Ms. Tate,” he said blandly.

“Seeing as
I
feel this is your fault, you could offer to fill in for Jared.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, eyes front as if he was expecting an attack at any moment. “But I have a job. And I’m afraid it doesn’t involve starring in your show.”

“I thought SEALs were training to adapt to the situation.”

He glanced at her. “Combat situations, reconnaissance missions—those scenarios don’t involve impromptu music video shoots.”

“This one does,” she said firmly. “If you don’t, I’ll have to send the crew home and make the video another day. I know Mason”—she nodded toward her manager—“might have given you and Ronan the impression that I’m a big-deal star. But right now, I have one album, one major hit, and one tour. I’m paying for this video. Not my label. And it needs to be good. I can’t afford to waste money like this.”

“I’m sorry. But I suggest that you talk to your manager.” He returned to scanning the video shoot. Thanks to her no-show backup singer, watching this scene was about as exciting as watching paint dry
in the freaking desert
.

“Have you ever been poor?” she demanded.

“No, ma’am.”

“Well, I have. So have my younger brothers and my little sister. The money from this tour, from my shows, supports my family. They are counting on it. If I don’t deliver another hit, the money will dry up.”

“That’s a hell—a lot—of responsibility on your shoulders,” he said, tearing his gaze away from the rocks to look at her.

She shook her head. “I’m not risking my life or trying to save the world. I’m just trying to make things easier for my family. And right now, that means I need you to kiss me up against that rock.”

“On-camera,” he pointed out.

She nodded. “I’ll pay you what I offered Jared. It’s not much. But it will be in addition to your daily wages. Plus, you have a better chance of keeping me safe if you’re holding on to me.”

“That’s not how this works.” He raised his arm and ran his hand through his movie star hair. “Look, maybe Ronan would be willing—”

“I don’t want to kiss Ronan.” She forced a smile, determined to walk away with a yes. Because she needed to make this video. And she wanted to kiss
him
. “Please, Dante. Tell me you’ll give it a shot.”

“All right,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “But I’m not tossing you up against that rock. If we do this, we do it my way.”

“As long as you take off your shirt and wear a cowboy hat, we can do it anyway you want, Mr. SEAL.”

Chapter Four

Dante had done a helluva lot of stupid things since he’d joined the Navy. But standing under the desert sun, shirtless and wearing borrowed jeans and a damn cowboy hat topped the list.

During Hell Week, the most infamous part of SEAL training, he’d survived drownproofing and paddled a boat straight for the rocks lining the Southern California coast. Sure, he’d been one of many who’d done it. But only someone who’d wanted to be a SEAL since he’d first learned about the teams from his Italian grandpa—the old man had been fascinated by his adopted country’s armed forces—would endure that hell with a smile and a “Hooyah” for his instructors. At the end he’d received a trident pin and a place on the teams.

Today, he’d been promised a modest pay bump that he didn’t give a damn about…and a kiss he couldn’t stop wanting.

Chrissie danced her way down the canyon’s path. Her hips swayed to a nonexistent rhythm. Dante supposed the music would be added later. Right now, the star of the show was lip-synching her way to him. And while the movement of her body made him hard, her lips left him aching for her mouth.

Her fingertips brushed his chest, teasing his senses. He wanted to reach for her. But he had instructions. Hell, the man in the director’s chair had choreographed everything.

Chrissie’s palm pressed against his bare skin, and he reminded himself that her touch and that hint of seduction in her eyes—it wasn’t for him. She was acting for the camera.

But his body hadn’t received the memo. He hardened, anticipating the moment when her hips would move closer. He needed the damn green light to press her up against that rock and claim her mouth.

Her gaze met his. Those wide blue eyes…so damn sweet and innocent. And yeah, it was an act. Logic told him to ignore the intoxicating mix of I’m-going-to-seduce-you-now and take-me-sailor.

To hell with reason, and screw the instructions.

Dante reached for her and wrapped his hands around her waist. Drawing her to him, he waited for the moment her hips touched his and she felt his response to the role she’d asked him to play.

Her eyes widened, and the innocent pretense vanished. “This isn’t right,” she murmured.

“No, honey.” He touched his lips to her ear. “It’s not.”

He shouldn’t be here. In Vegas. In a country music video. In her arms. But he wasn’t going to walk away from a second chance at claiming her mouth.

Carefully, he guided her back until her perfect ass touched the rock. He retraced his steps from that morning, pinned her arms overhead, and then let his hands roam.

“I should be seducing you,” she insisted.

“Consider me at your mercy.” He ran his hands along her toned legs, lifting her up. Her thighs wrapped around his waist as if she remembered the movement. His hips pressed against her, showing her just how “seduced” he felt.

He dropped his gaze to her parted red lips. That mouth could drive a man insane. Hell, it probably enchanted half her fans night after night. He hadn’t heard her sing, but he could imagine watching her lips move. And hoping like hell he’d be the lucky bastard who explored them.

He lowered his head and brushed his mouth over hers. Gentle. Soft. He drew out the desire.

“More,” she whispered, and her fingers found their way into his hair. She held tight, refusing to let him pull back. Not that he planned to let her go.

“Just warming up,” he said. “Seeing how much you can take.”

She raised an eyebrow as if he’d tossed out a challenge. Then, she kissed him.

Dante lost track of where, when, and even why he was standing in the freaking canyon. He opened his mouth and allowed her tongue to tangle with his. He rocked against her as if he wanted to come in his pants. Even fully clothed, the feel of her body beneath his would do it. One more thrust—

“That’s hot,” a voice called. “But I think we have what we need.”

Dante pulled away. Reality came rushing back. They were in the desert and putting on a show. They had an audience. And shit, he was ten seconds away from exploding in his damn jeans like a teenager.

“I think we’ve put on enough of a performance,” he said, and he carefully lowered Chrissie’s legs and stepped away.

Her brow furrowed as if she’d forgotten where she was for a moment, too. But then her smile—the one she doled out to any passing fool—reappeared and erased the glimpse he’d caught of a young, innocent woman.

Dante looked away as his erection subsided. For a moment, he’d believed the innocent wonder he’d witnessed in her eyes. He’d felt wanted. Kissing her had become a necessity.

But Chrissie Tate didn’t need him beyond one hot kiss. She’d been clear about that. It was an act, carefully designed to con the fools watching her video.

Holding his body away from hers, Dante placed his hands on the rock, palms flat, one on either side of Chrissie’s head. “This is the point where you push me away, right?”

“Yes,” she murmured. Her fingers released his hair and slid down the bare skin at his back and around to his chest. Her fingers pressed into his pecs as if she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hold on to him or thrust him away.

“Give it your best shot, honey.”

…

Chrissie struggled to recall why she needed to push the hard wall of muscle away. She’d rather stay right here, stuck between a rock and a hard place. She glanced down at his hips which, moments earlier, had been rubbing up against her as if he didn’t give a damn about her clothes or the cameras…

The cameras.

Her music video.

Oh no.

She shoved hard against his chest. He stepped back, but she went with him.

Take your love…

The lyrics she’d written in response to her label’s demands for an upbeat love-em’-and-leave-em’ number ran through her head. She took a step forward, her gaze locked on Dante’s chiseled features.

And leave my heart…

But what she felt, the desire pulsing through her, shredding her concentration in the middle of this expensive shoot—this wasn’t love. Her heart wasn’t invested. It was pure lust.

But what did she know about love and lust? She’d spent the past six months on the road. The nine months before that in a recording studio. Her music career consumed her life and erased time for boyfriends. And the few men she’d dated before, back in Florida, they hadn’t felt like this.

“Cut!”

Chrissie dropped her hands and stepped back. She turned to the director and reaching for the professional persona she wore like a shield. Lust. Love. Heartbreak. She didn’t have time to experience those emotions firsthand. She couldn’t allow messy feelings to distract her from her career. Sure, heartbreak might lead to strong lyrics. But what if it didn’t? She couldn’t risk her family’s future on her desire for a man who planned to deploy as soon as his knee healed.

No, Chrissie Tate, country starlet, needed to keep singing and producing hits. The five people she loved with all her heart were counting on her. She refused to let them down. They’d already suffered too much—losing a son, a brother, a friend.

Rick, the director foisted on her by her label, gave her a smile that fell short of genuine. “Chrissie, you nailed it on the first try.” He stopped by her side and turned to Dante. “And you have raw talent.”

You have no idea, Mr. Director. You didn’t kiss him.

She glanced at her bodyguard and swore she saw a flush creeping up his cheeks. She had a feeling “country music video star” wasn’t something he wanted on his resume alongside “fighting terrorists” and “rescuing the innocent.”

“So we’re done?” Chrissie said, her tone firm but polite. “Ahead of schedule?”

“We have what we need for today. I’ll talk to your manager about the vocal track.” The director turned and headed for Mason, who’d stupidly worn a three-piece suit to the desert.

“Time to head back to the hotel and get ready for the show.” She turned to the small tent where she’d stashed her bag, grabbed a bottle of water, and tossed one to Dante.

“Thanks.” He set it aside and reached for his shirt. “I’m riding back with you.”

Great. Thirty minutes trapped in a car with a man who’d nearly given her an orgasm against the canyon wall. Chrissie headed for the parking area and the blue luxury sedan the hotel had graciously lent her.

“I suppose you want to drive?” she said when they reached the car.

He shook his head. And for the first time, she noticed he was shifting his weight to his left leg. Had today been too much for his injured knee?

She pushed the thought aside as she settled into the driver’s seat. He should have said something if his knee was bothering him. He could have asked for a break. They would have needed to do a second take. But still, he shouldn’t have ignored the pain.

Or maybe he was too caught up in his body’s reaction to that kiss…

“I’m sorry,” he said as she steered the car onto the main road.

She kept her gaze fixed on the two-lane road. “For saving the day? I thought—”

“For getting carried away,” he said in a firm and clear tone. “During the shoot. It was unprofessional and—”

“Oh no.” The words slipped out as the realization dawned on her. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Please don’t tell me you’re married.

She glanced down at his left hand. Her stomach did a somersault as she forced her gaze back to the road. There was a faded tan line on his ring finger. What if he’d removed the ring before his last mission, or before the surgery, and forgot to put it back on? Maybe he’d lost it—

“No girlfriend,” he said.

“You’re married.”

Oh God, what have I done?

“Divorced.”

What?!

She stopped at a red light and turned to him. No woman in her right mind would walk away from those muscles. Of course, he might have been the one to leave…

“She didn’t like my job,” he said.

“What? She was too afraid that you’d die out there, so she left first?” She hit the gas a little harder than she’d intended, and the car sped forward.

“Easy,” he said. “I know time is money, but we have a couple of hours before the show.”

“If a woman had done that to my brother while he was away…”

“You’d what? Set your backup singer friend on her? Let him slam her up against the rocks?”

“It’s wrong.” She took a sharp right into the hotel parking lot. “Your job, what you do—”

“It’s hard on wives and girlfriends. I was away a lot. Most of the year. She never knew where I was or when I’d come back.” He shrugged. “She got lonely.”

“She cheated on you!” She threw the car into park and turned to him. “Was she crazy? You have the best body I’ve ever seen. And you…I felt it…your…”

She felt the heat rising in her cheeks now. He raised an eyebrow as if waiting for her to say the word—cock. She’d been so caught up in fury she’d almost told him he had an amazing erection.

But how could someone cheat on a man who’d put everything on the line for his country? Didn’t his ex realize how lucky she was that Dante had survived? She’d give anything to have her brother back. Anything. And Dante’s ex had walked away.

“I hate her,” she said.

He shook his head. “She wasn’t a bad person. I think she had it in the back of her mind that I’d leave the teams eventually. But I’m not planning to walk away until I physically can’t do the job. Being a SEAL—it’s all I ever wanted to do. I’m going to serve my country until they make me quit.”

“Thank you,” she said firmly.

His brow drew together. “For what?”

“For believing that it’s worth it, for saying that my brother died for something greater than one man or one woman.”

“He died protecting our freedom. It doesn’t matter what he was doing that day or where he was stationed,” he said with a ferocity that echoed how she felt. “My grandfather fought his way into this country, hoping for the promise of freedom. I do what I do to keep that promise alive. And so did your brother.”

She stared at the hero riding shotgun. He kissed like a god, possessed movie-star muscles, and understood the passion driving her career. Dante was close to perfect in her book. His ex-wife was a fool to walk away.

But Chrissie knew she needed to steer clear, too. If she wasn’t careful, she could fall for him, tumble head-over-heels until she lost sight of the goal line—a long-term career. A long-distance relationship was not part of her plan. Not that he’d offered more than a kiss during her video shoot…

But she’d felt his excitement. Sure, she could chalk that up to a normal male reaction to a woman’s kiss, like the way she wanted to explore his muscles. And yes, she wanted to explore the physical aspects of their connection. Still…those words…

My grandfather fought his way into this country, hoping for the promise of freedom. I do what I do to keep that promise alive.

There was a lot more to U.S. Navy SEAL Dante Raske than his mouth and his biceps. And she couldn’t deny that she wanted to learn more.

“Thank you for standing in for Jared today,” she said as she opened her car door and set one foot on the pavement. “And you don’t need to apologize for getting carried away. To be honest, I did to. That was the best kiss I’ve ever had. But I wouldn’t expect anything less from a Navy SEAL.”

She quickly stepped out of the car and closed the door behind her. She needed to get inside before she did something stupid and added
Want to get carried away again tonight? After my show…

She heard footsteps, and a second later he was at her side. She glanced at him and saw the heat in his dark eyes.

“I strive for perfection.” He kept his gaze locked with hers. “And not just when it comes to kissing.”

Her lips parted, and she stopped in the center of the hotel lobby. “I need to get ready for my show,” she said, her voice so low because she didn’t quite trust herself not to scream
Take me now! Take me here!
“But, I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. SEAL.”