Hot SEAL, Bourbon Neat (SEALs in Paradise) Read online

  “We don’t want any trouble,” one of them finally said, stepping forward to help Brett to his feet.

  Asher addressed the whole group. “Let me be very clear. Touch my girl again…” he thought about Gracie and amended, “Touch any girl at this resort without permission, and you’ll limp back to your mommy’s and daddy’s. You get me?” He eyeballed Brett. “That cabana down the beach you were bragging about? You should go there. Now.”

  A few curse words were mumbled as the boys hit the sand. Since there was no fucking wall to place his back against, Asher took the chair at Brooke’s table that allowed him the best view of the retreating group. They were headed down the beach in the opposite direction of the hotel when Brooke returned to the table. She clunked his bourbon down hard enough to crack the mosaic table top. Seemed the glass was as stout as the rotgut, since both held steady.

  Brooke slipped into the chair across from him. Her drink got a more delicate treatment. She sipped from the tall glass that had a sprig of mint on the top and then set it on a napkin. She rested her forearms against the table and laced her fingers around the glass, seemingly not inclined to talk around an elephant the size of Texas.

  Tension charged the air between them, making his skin prickle with awareness and his hands eager to get reacquainted with her body. It seemed when it came to Brooke Ramsey, nothing had changed. Asher had been with his share of women, but Brooke was the only one who ever triggered his inner caveman. Triggered ideas like mine and forever. The only woman who ever tempted him to throw aside his beliefs about relationships and give one a try. So he left.

  The only thing harder than walking away would’ve been to stay with the knowledge that one day this beautiful creature would suffer heartache, and it would be all his fault.

  Asher cleared his throat. Brooke’s gaze met his over the rim of the highball. What did one say to the woman he spent a month fucking nine ways to Sunday before bugging out of her life in the dead of night?

  And then it hit him.

  “In all the gin joints…” he started, remembering her love for the movie Casablanca. It was her favorite. She also loved custard-filled pastries, preferred tea over coffee, and had a kinky side that included being restrained in bed.

  He grinned at that last bit. Asher earned his nickname with legitimate, work-related tasks, but his ability to tie a decent knot had started with her. Everything started with her.

  He’d done the right thing, hadn’t he? He’d been so sure at the time. Seeing her now, though, all golden-skinned and beautiful…

  “In all the towns…” he continued, knowing the line by heart.

  Brooke’s laugh was the greatest sound he’d ever heard. A little light, a little grumbly, and a whole lot of sexy. It was the kind of laugh that lit up her face. The kind that made everyone within earshot smile along with her.

  He could listen to that sound for the rest of his life.

  Fuck.

  2

  Brooke’s first thought was that her eyes were playing tricks on her.

  Asher Dillon.

  She’d dreamed about the man a thousand times over the years. Today wouldn’t be the first time she thought she saw him in the world outside her bedroom. Not by a long shot. In fact, anytime she saw a chiseled jaw, hair the color of dark chocolate, or shoulders wide enough to strain a woman’s thighs, Brooke would do a double take, thinking of him.

  Once she realized the truth—that the man standing beside her with biceps for days was indeed the star of her nighttime fantasies—the anger hit, surprising her with its strength.

  Eight fucking years without a single word.

  Brooke met Asher in the month before she started graduate school. Asher had just finished training and was waiting to be assigned to a SEAL team. The days that followed were a blur of laughter, food, alcohol, and orgasms. So many orgasms, delivered in the most imaginative ways.

  Their fling hadn’t been all fun and games. Asher went to the base to check in and hit the gym each day. She had a part-time summer internship at the company where she now worked. They never made plans for a repeat, yet each afternoon when she arrived home he was there, waiting. Sometimes with dinner. Sometimes with her favorite sweet treat from the bakery on the corner. Always thoughtful. Always hard and ready. For her. It was the happiest month of her life.

  And then one morning Asher was gone. No warning. No goodbye. Just an empty space beside her in bed and sheets that continued to smell like him for months after no matter how many times she washed them.

  They hadn’t made commitments, but it hurt that he thought so little of her after what they shared that she didn’t even warrant a kiss goodbye or a phone call to let her know he was alive. She thought, at the very least, they were friends.

  Oh, he explained how his life would be once his new job started—never knowing when he’d be called out or for how long, scheduled deployments to places he couldn’t talk about, yada, yada, yada. She didn’t care about any of that. She didn’t need a man in her back pocket 24/7. She just needed one who would treat her with the respect and trust she deserved.

  That man was not Asher Dillon.

  Who the hell did he think he was, storming back into her life all buff and bad ass, pretending to be her boyfriend as if he’d crawled out of her bed only an hour ago?

  Time, it seemed, hadn’t dulled the emotions Asher invoked. And boy did he invoke some doozies.

  It was too much to take all at once.

  The trip to the bar gave Brooke a reprieve to gather her wits. It didn’t take long. She had plenty of experience.

  Her life had been a study in adaption, beginning when her dad walked out. In the days that followed, Brooke’s world shifted, turned upside down, inside out. Her mom turned into a wild teenager overnight, leaving Brooke to her own devices for weeks at a time. Brooke had only been nine years old, but there had been no time to wallow. Life didn’t stop because things went wonky. She learned to cook and do laundry. She got herself to and from school. She did what she had to do to survive. It was a pattern she’d repeat throughout her life—circumstances shifted, she adapted.

  When her mom remarried and divorced a second and third time within the first two years after her dad left—shift, adapt. On her fourteenth birthday when she learned she’d been adopted as an infant—shift, adapt. When she lost her college scholarship because her mom forgot to sign the paperwork—shift, adapt. When she woke up alone after a month filled with the best sex of her life—shift, adapt. And realizing the giver of the best sex of her life was the man who just pretended to be her boyfriend—shift, fucking adapt.

  By the time she delivered Asher’s bourbon and took the seat across from him, Brooke managed to wrap her head around this new reality where she and Asher were apparently staying at the same resort, he was pretending to be her boyfriend, and she was pretending the sight of him hadn’t flayed her chest wide open.

  “In all the world…” he continued. His voice was deeper than she remembered. Less playful despite his words, with more grit.

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said, unable to keep the smile from her face. “I know the line. Casablanca is my favorite movie.”

  A grin wrinkled his cheeks. “Why do you think I picked that quote?”

  “You remember my favorite movie?”

  Brooke’s walls went up hard. She would not be charmed. After a series of failed romances, she had given up on the idea of settling down, having a family of her own. She was an independent, career-focused woman now. She had two weeks to prepare a killer advertising campaign for the Midnight Bay Beach Resort, and that’s what she was going to do.

  Asher pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head. His confident, honey-brown gaze bore into her. “I remember a lot of things about you, Brooke.”

  After the way he left, she didn’t understand why he’d bother. Maybe he just had a head for trivial facts about the women he banged. Her love for Bogie packed away alongside another woman’s love of 80’s rock, of which, by the wa
y, Brooke was also a fan.

  It wasn’t her business what he did or didn’t remember. She was at the resort to work, not reminisce with an old hookup.

  “What are you doing here?” The moment the question was out of her mouth, Brooke regretted asking. The resort was a tropical paradise. Obviously, he was on vacation. What if he was there with a woman? Or worse, what if he was on his honeymoon? Oh, man. Brooke would die of embarrassment if Asher had to explain to his new wife how he’d gotten her out of a jam.

  She groaned. “Please tell me you’re not on your honeymoon.”

  “What?” He laughed with surprised horror. “No. I’m not married.”

  “Here with a girlfriend?” She was intruding where she had no right, but she wouldn’t take back the question. She had to know.

  One of his thick brows kicked up. “Trying to ascertain if I’m single?”

  “Trying to ascertain my level of humiliation.”

  “You don’t have anything to be humiliated about, even if I did have a girlfriend. Which, for the record, I don’t.” His lips curled to one side. “Unless we’re counting fake ones?”

  Brooke shook her head to let him know they were definitely not counting those. Their pretend relationship ended the moment Brett and his friends left the bar.

  Asher settled back in his chair. “I’m with my mom and sister. They booked the trip and I took leave to tag along.”

  The genuine affection in his expression melted her heart. Brooke felt her walls slip. Looking out for the people he loved was a trait she found endearing in a man, and on Asher it was sexy as hell.

  “A family vacation. That’s nice.” Not that she’d know. The only thing she did with her mother these days was argue, and she hadn’t heard from her father in years. The thought of vacationing with either one of them made her skin itch.

  “More like I didn’t want them leaving the United States without protection.”

  “Why? Grand Turks is as safe an island as they come.” When he arched an incredulous brow, Brooke rolled her eyes. “Intoxicated, over-eager college boys notwithstanding.”

  “That dude was more than an over-eager college boy. He’s a menace to women. He’s lucky I pulled that punch. If the punk had messed with my sister, he wouldn’t have walked away.”

  His words stung. Brooke didn’t want the guy maimed for God’s sake, but just once in her life it would be nice to have someone believe she was worth the depth of that emotion.

  “Lucky for him it was just me then.”

  Asher’s gaze narrowed. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Brooke waved him off. She usually did a better job at hiding her insecurities. She mentally stiffened her spine and shoved those bitches back where they belonged, buried deep. A long draw from her mojito helped the process along.

  “It doesn’t matter. You helped me out of an awkward situation and I’m grateful. Seriously, Asher. Thank you.” She raised her glass in silent toast and took another pull from the straw.

  “You said you were on leave. You’re still with the teams, then?” She didn’t know the lingo, but Asher smirked, so she must’ve gotten close.

  He nodded. “Still a SEAL. For the next six months, at least.”

  “What happens in six months?”

  “My contract expires.”

  “You’re leaving the Navy?” He’d been pumped to be a SEAL. She wondered what had happened over the years to make him want to give it up.

  “Maybe.” He shrugged, then scrubbed a hand over his short hair. “Christ. I dunno. Can we talk about something else?”

  For the first time since their reunion Brooke saw the exhaustion hiding in the tiny wrinkles around his eyes. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t affected by him. Regardless of how they’d ended, she’d given a piece of herself to this man—a piece he still had, though he didn’t know it. Seeing the weight of the world in his eyes just then made her ache to offer comfort.

  She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. It wasn’t much, but it was all she would allow herself to do. “What would you like to talk about?”

  He studied her for a moment before his eyes went heavy-lidded. “You’re still incredibly beautiful.” His thumb danced across her knuckles. “And soft.”

  Oh, boy. Brooke’s body heated and not from the Caribbean sun. She needed to be careful around this man or she was likely to lose her head. And her panties.

  She eased her hand from his. “And you’re still handsome and too charming for your own good. I’m glad we got that out of the way. New topic, please.”

  Asher laughed, the sound rough and deep. “All right, sassy girl. Have it your way. Tell me what you’re doing these days. Where do you work? Are you married? Got a boyfriend, other than me?”

  His wink did funny things to her insides. Made her heart race and her stomach flutter. How sad was it that having Asher as her fake boyfriend for five minutes had been more thrilling than the entirety of her last relationship?

  “I’m an advertising executive with the Woodson Bellamy Agency in San Diego.”

  “The place you did the summer internship?”

  “Yes,” she said slowly. How did he remember that? Brooke’s walls slipped a little more and she grappled to hold on. “They hired me before the fall semester started that year. They let me work around my class schedule so it was a great deal.” On-the-job training and the company foot the bill for her master’s degree. Great didn’t begin to cover it. “Once I finished graduate school, I transitioned into full time. That’s why I’m here, actually. I recently signed Midnight Bay as a client and my boss thought it would be a good idea for me to come experience the resort firsthand.”

  Well, her boss’ boss thought it would be a good idea. Her boss, Sandra Davenport, hadn’t been too thrilled with the idea, but that had more to do with Sandra being a jealous bitch than anything else. Sandra constantly took credit for Brooke’s work, and she had seethed over Brooke single-handedly landing the Midnight Bay account.

  “Tough job,” he joked.

  “It has its moments, but overall I can’t complain.” She loved her work. She loved the challenge and creativity that came with selling products and services people didn’t necessarily need but would desperately want if she did her job well.

  “That answers what you do for work. What about the rest of it?”

  He wanted her relationship status? Teasing him seemed appropriate, since he’d done the same to her. Brooke batted her eyelashes, enjoying the conversation more than she should. “The rest of what?”

  Asher dropped his elbows onto the table and leaned toward her. His light cologne combined with the tropical air made for a heady scent. “Someone’s looking to have her pretty ass spanked.”

  Brooke couldn’t stop the gasp from leaving her mouth. He did not just go there.

  “Asher,” she warned, but the damage was done. Her body came alive, as if his words were the jumper cables to her neglected battery. All of a sudden, her skin felt too tight. A tantalizing rush of heat flooded her veins. Down below her pussy clenched, the moisture building between her legs threatening to seep through the thin lining of her swimsuit.

  “God, I can’t believe you said that.”

  He sat back and shrugged, just a guy on vacation without a care in the world. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  This couldn’t be happening. How pathetic was she to get all hot and bothered over a guy who’d dumped her like a bad habit? Where was her self-respect? She hadn’t lived like a nun, for God’s sake. She wasn’t that hard up.

  “You’re wrong.”

  He smirked and she followed his glance to the front of her swimsuit. Yeah, she wasn’t hiding anything. There was no mistaking the tips of her breasts straining against the fabric of the suit.

  “I don’t think I am.” His head tilted to the side. “How long has it been since you’ve had a proper fuck?”

  Mortification, thy name is Brooke. Her cheeks burned with it. “Pick a new topic or this conversation
is over,” she snapped, proud that her voice didn’t waver.

  God. She’d had sex, but she hadn’t been properly fucked in eight years. Not that he needed to know that, the arrogant jerk.

  “I wasn’t kidding when I told Brett I had work to do.” When Asher just stared at her, Brooke shoved her chair back intending to grab her things and go back to her suite. She had a hard enough time not using Asher as a base for comparison for all other men. He didn’t have to throw it in her face that she’d found them all lacking.

  “All right, all right.” He showed her his palms. “You win. We’ll come back to that.”

  She really and truly wanted to hit him. “There’s nothing to come back to. My sex life is none of your business.”

  He didn’t confirm or deny his agreement. “Relax. Would you like another drink?”

  Brooke glanced down, surprised to see her glass was empty save the ice and sprigs of mint. She blew out a breath. Would she?

  For eight years, she wondered what happened on the last night they spent together—why had he vanished like a thief in the night? Now was her chance to get some answers. To get closure on the brief part of her life that colored the lens with which she viewed all men.

  “Sure. Why not?”

  Maybe then she could finally forget him.

  3

  Asher was drunk, and not from the bourbon. Subtle hints of coconut and pineapple and warm, sexy woman were what made his head light. And his dick heavy.

  Brooke Ramsey was a walking wet dream in that plain-Jane, sky blue swimsuit that hugged her tits in the best way. He didn’t need eyes to know their perfect shape. He’d spent hours caressing, kneading, sucking those gorgeous mounds until he’d committed them to memory. And fuck him running, her nipples remembered him, too. The tight points had been reaching for him all afternoon, begging for him to play.

  “I should get going.”

  “So soon?” Asher checked his watch, surprised to find the better part of the afternoon gone.