A SEAL's Seduction (2 page)

“Yep.”

By the time she’d started third grade, Alexia had known three things. One, that she was much, much smarter than the average bear. Two, that she didn’t quite fit in anywhere—not with kids her age, not with the agenda her parents lined up for her and not with what her child psychologist had deemed
society’s norms.
And three, that her father would never love her. After a few years of exploiting the first while trying to hide the second, she’d finally realized that there was nothing she could do about the third. At thirteen, with a slew of academic awards, a couple of skipped grades and a social calendar filled with normal, acceptable, shoot-me-now-I’m-going-crazy boring activities, she’d done a tight one-eighty.

She’d stopped socializing and started failing classes. She’d turned to fatty food and sugar for comfort. She’d explored more ways to numb herself than she liked to remember. And to this day, she wasn’t sure if her father had noticed any of that.

But he had noticed when, at sixteen, she’d been picked up by the base MPs, drunk and half-naked with an ensign thirteen years her senior. That’d been the second turning point in her short life. Her father’s fury hadn’t mattered. His blustering and disgust had barely dented her hangover. Seeing that, the admiral had proceeded to show her once and for all where she got her brains. In an ice-cold voice, he’d promised that the next time she stepped out of line, she’d be out of his house and no longer a part of the family. She’d shrugged, saying that she didn’t care. He’d nodded, as if he’d expected exactly that response, before adding he’d then send Michael to boarding school overseas.

Michael. The one person who loved Alexia. Who accepted and celebrated her. Who she’d be cut off from until he was eighteen, if their father had any say in it.

Yep. The admiral was a scary man.

“Don’t stress about it,” Michael said quietly, clearly tracking her trip down memory lane. “Mom’s thrilled you’re back and Dad will come around eventually. They might not like what you’re talking about, but the prestige of seeing you on TV, hearing you’re at the big fancy billionaire parties like any good socialite will bring them around.”

“Sure, as long as they ignore the part about me publicly talking sex.” Alexia sighed. As much as she wanted to be tough and emotionless when it came to their parents, a part of her still craved—with the desperation of a small child—that approval. But she couldn’t—wouldn’t—change who she was to get it.

“You could almost feel sorry for them.” Michael laughed. “We’re not exactly their idea of poster children, huh? To make it easier on them, when I go to Sunday brunch, I pretend to be straight. Not an easy thing for the headliner of Sassy’s Fancy, an all-male revue. Last month I mentioned my photo shoot for Calvin Klein and you’d have thought I tried to jump the waiter, the way Dad choked and Mom sputtered.”

“Maybe they’ll focus more on the fact that this research project will potentially help abuse victims overcome their fears than the sex part of things,” Alexia mused. When her brother looked at her as if she’d jumped right over naive into delusional, she wrinkled her nose.

“So enough about how proud we make the parents,” Michael said with a dismissive wave to both the topic and the low-level guilt Alexia was starting to feel. “What’s the real deal with you and Dr. Darling?”

“Edward’s last name is Darshwin,” she corrected for the zillionth time, following his lead and sitting up to reach for the sunscreen. Unlike many redheads, Alexia didn’t have a problem tanning. She did, however, turn into one giant freckle after too much sunshine. “And I don’t know what the deal is, really. He’s a sweetie. Smart, cute and really big on communication. A guy who likes to talk feelings. What’s better than that?”

“A guy who makes you feel things worth talking about,” Michael ventured quietly.

Yeah. She sighed. That.

“When did you get so smart?” Alexia slanted him a look. Spread out on a bright turquoise beach towel, he looked too pretty, and honestly too vain, to offer up such deep thoughts. Sleek and toned, he was a man who made his living by looking good.

“Babe, just because I’m not a superbrainiac like you doesn’t mean I’m not a pretty sharp cookie.”

Wasn’t that the truth.

Joy, as warm as a big squishy hug, filled her. Alexia could have turned down the job offer that’d brought her back to San Diego. But between her dream job and a chance to live close to her brother again, she hadn’t been able to resist. They’d grown up as military brats, and the only steady thing in their lives had been each other. And while she didn’t look for a lot of steadiness these days, she needed love. Needed to feel important. Special. If only to one person—and even if that person was her brother.

As if taunting her with Michael’s words, her gaze sought out the gorgeous specimen of manhood again. Now,
that
was a guy who’d make a girl feel things worth talking about. She let the sight of his body, cutting strong and sure through the ocean waves, soothe her. Relax away the tension and worries.

Then he stepped out of the water.

And a whole new kind of tension seeped into her body.

At the same time, all thoughts, and most of her brain function, vanished. Every cell of her being was focused, like a laser, on his body.

His gorgeous body.

Sleek muscles, from the top of his sexy head to his well-shaped feet. The man was a work of art. Not in the bodybuilder-obsessed way, but pure streamlined power.

Him, she was sexually attracted to. Him, she could easily see herself begging for.

“You know, I might have questioned your judgment and hairstyle over the years,” Michael said quietly. “But I’ve never faulted your eyesight. That is one fine-looking man.”

“He’s okay,” she downplayed as if her body wasn’t melting just looking at him.

“Okay? Just okay?” Michael’s voice rose in indignation, as if she’d just insulted gorgeous men everywhere. “What’d New York do to you? You say you’re not in a relationship, but your butt’s still planted on this towel. Why aren’t you going for it?”

“Because, as you pointed out, I’m in a relationship.”

“
Considering
a relationship.”

“Which means I should
finish
considering before I do anything crazy,” she retorted. “Like hit on some stranger just because he’s gorgeous.”

“Gorgeous is the best reason to hit,” Michael mused. Then he gave her an arch look. “Of course, he might not be your type.”

“I don’t think he’s yours,” she said with a laugh, eyeing the sexy swimmer. A man who exuded that much sexual energy, who made her wonder how many hours it’d take to try her top ten favorite
Kama Sutra
positions, gay? That’d be a crime against women everywhere.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” Michael suggested as the man walked toward them, either because his stuff was up the beach past where they sat or maybe in response to intense do-me signals Alexia was mentally sending.

“Michael,” she hissed, suddenly wishing she were on a plane back to New York. Or buried in the sand. Either would be better than what she knew was coming. “Don’t you dare.”

“Did you say dare?” Michael’s grin shifted to one hundred degrees of wicked.

“Michael.” Jackknifing upright, Alexia made a grab for her brother’s arm. And growled when she missed.

“Oh, hey, excuse me,” he called as he slid gracefully to his feet. “Do you have a second?”

Gorgeous slowed, walking toward them. His eyes—yes, just as fabulous as the rest of him—bypassed Michael to lock on to Alexia.

His gaze was like being bathed in a deliciously sensual bath. The dark blue depths were warm, luxurious and bone-meltingly wonderful.

Alexia swore she felt the world shift. Or maybe it was just the sand beneath her butt as her brother hurried forward to offer his hand.

“I’m Michael,” he said, his smile big and bright as he gestured her way. “That’s my sister, Alexia.”

“Blake,” the man introduced quietly, his voice carrying just a hint of the South.

“I was wondering if you wanted to join me, us, for a drink?” Michael reached into the cooler and pulled out a bottle of water, offering it. “It’d be a great favor. You can help settle an argument between my sister and I.”

* * *

B
LAKE
GLANCED
AT
PRETTY
BOY
, and the proffered water, then at the sexy beach siren lounging at his feet. She looked like a parting gift from summer, as hot as the season itself. All red hair and gold skin, she made his mouth water.

Any other time, he’d have made a move to join her. But instead of offering healing, solace, the last two weeks had simply hammered home his grief. Made it worse. He’d hung out at Cade’s apartment for a while. Only back a couple of days from a visit home, Cade had been lousy company. Silent, morose and distant, wallowing in the bitch of a mood that always went with dealing with his family. So Blake had escaped to the beach.

The sun hadn’t helped. Neither had the surf. And he was sure talking to strangers was just as pointless.
Just make an excuse and go,
he told himself.

“What argument?” he heard himself asking instead.

“Alexia thinks a hot date is dinner and a movie,” the guy told him, tilting his bright red sunglasses down his nose to offer a comical eye roll. “Boring, right? Me, I think a club and dancing is the way to go. What’s your take?”

The bottle of water halfway to his mouth, Blake paused to stare.

Was the guy hitting on him?

Tempted to laugh, Blake offered the redhead a baffled look. Her answering smile was like a ray of sunshine, reaching out to pull him out of a dark hole he hadn’t even realized he’d been hiding in.

“Both,” Blake said. “Dinner and dancing. I’m traditional that way.”

“Ah.” The guy’s smile didn’t shift, his attitude didn’t change. But his nod made it clear he’d got the message that he wasn’t Blake’s type. “Then I guess it’s a draw.”

“You’ll have to excuse Michael,” the redhead said. “He’s a nothing-ventured, nothing-gained kind of guy.”

“Can’t fault him for that.”

“You’re sweet,” she decided softly, her smile flashing bright. At first glance, her features weren’t traditionally beautiful. They were too striking, too bold. Eyes almost too large for her face were direct under a slash of dark brows. Her jaw was strong, her lips full with an obvious underbite that spelled all kinds of sexy to Blake’s suddenly wide-awake libido.

A red-rose tattoo on her shoulder twined down her biceps, twisting and circling. Her body, hot enough to make a man grateful for summer, was stunning. Packaged in a tiny purple swimsuit that hugged and highlighted curves, he suddenly wished like hell he’d met her another time. One when he could lavish on her every bit of attention she deserved.

Blake was the kind of guy who’d built his career on doing the right thing. Who lived his life by the rules. He not only followed the book, but double-checked it to ensure the rules he was following were exactly as written.

Anal?

It worked for him.

At least, it had.

The image of Phil flashed through Blake’s mind, the last thing he’d seen from his buddy was his big, cheesy grin just before the shrapnel had pierced his helmet.

Phil had followed the rules.

The entire team had, to the letter.

And they’d still lost their teammate.

Overwhelmed by the memory, Blake turned to stare toward the ocean, trying to find peace again. The water wasn’t giving any up, though. Of its own volition, his gaze returned to the stunning redhead.

She didn’t look like the kind who followed rules.

Maybe that’s what he needed right now.

His eyes traveled over the smooth golden skin of her bare belly, noting the tiny strings tying her bikini bottoms to her slender hips. His body stirred. Blood pumped. For the first time in two weeks, he felt alive.

He’d come here to heal, though.

And as much as losing himself in a body as lush and welcoming as Alexia’s appealed, he knew better. A smart man fighting demons avoided addictive substances. Alcohol, drugs, gambling. Gorgeous, sexy women. Anything that let a man numb himself to the memories.

Blake’s body screamed a number of ugly epithets at him. Ten years in the navy meant it had a ton to choose from. Still, he’d put his body through worse than denying it a gorgeous woman. He’d get over it.

“Thanks,” he finally said, splitting his smile between the brother and sister. “But I’ve got to go.”

Before he could change his mind, he lifted the water bottle in acknowledgment, and strode away. And regretted every step.

2

“E
DWARD
, I’
VE
THOUGHT
about it a lot,” Alexia said, her tone low in an attempt to keep their conversation private from the rest of the diners. After her talk with Michael on the beach that afternoon, she’d realized she had to deal with the issue before she started work the following week. “I value our friendship, it’s really important to me. But I don’t think we should risk it by trying to turn it into more.”

After uttering those totally uncomfortable words, Alexia held her breath and waited for Edward’s response. Sounds suddenly amplified, forks against plates, the rushing servers’ feet against the tile floor, even the sound of the still-warm tortilla chips sliding into salsa.

The smile not shifting on his handsome face, Edward blotted his lips with his napkin, then took a sip of his water. Buying time to sort his reaction, Alexia realized with a wince.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine. Nerves are natural before taking a big step in a relationship. Don’t let it worry you.”

No. Anticipation was natural. Excitement was. And sure, nerves if they were along the lines of
will he like seeing me naked
and
is he open to kinky positions.
But this stomach-churning, feet-twitching-to-run, little-voice-screaming-nooooo feeling? This wasn’t normal.

What did she have to say to get through? She really didn’t want to hurt him.

But after her reaction earlier that morning to hot, sexy and gorgeous on the beach, as she still thought of the hottie named Blake, there was no way she could settle for a sexless relationship. Spark, desire, passion, they were too important. It’d been all she could do not to chase the guy down the beach, throw herself at his feet and beg him to let her make up for her brother’s odd behavior by licking her way up his body.

Heck, she’d stayed so turned on and sexually charged thinking about him, she’d come twice in the shower preparing for this dinner. Clearly her subconscious was sending her a strong message that she and Edward weren’t meant to be a couple.

But he wasn’t listening to her subconscious. Or her words, for that matter. What did that say about their wavelength? Edward had a habit of believing that if he ignored something he didn’t like, it’d eventually go away. Having tried that often enough, and still having the parents to prove it didn’t work, Alexia could empathize.

“Sweetie, we have a great time together,” Edward said brightly, dismissing her concerns with a wave of his fork. His blond hair glinted in the colorful piñata-shaped lights and his perfect teeth flashed. “We’re great together. We’re on the same wavelength, totally in tune. Our interests, our goals, our values, they all click. That’s what counts, right?”

Alexia forced her lips to curve in agreement. Because he was right. They were in tune and did have a great time. But that wasn’t enough.

“That’s all important,” she said, pushing her barely tasted enchiladas aside to reach across the table and take his hand. “But those are things that make for a strong friendship. Not a...”

She couldn’t do it. Alexia wanted to pound her head on the table a few times to try to shake the words loose, but didn’t figure it’d do much good. So she took a deep sip of her pomegranate margarita—her third—instead. How was she supposed to say that she had absolutely zip sexual interest in him? She specialized in the art of subliminally messaging the center of the brain that controlled sexual response. She was about to start a job that required her to be front and center, publicly talking about how to heal and stimulate sexual responses. How could she work with test subjects and expect people who’d had sexual trauma to trust her to help them if she couldn’t even talk about her own sexual needs?

“Look,” Edward said, twining his fingers with hers. “I know what you’re worried about. That mythical spark isn’t blazing between us. You think there should be some energy, some physical manifestation of attraction.”

It was all she could do not to throw her hands in the air and say
duh.

“And you don’t?” She’d worked enough in the field of sexual health to know there were men who couldn’t perform. Others whose libidos were so low, they had no interest in sex. But she wouldn’t have thought that Edward fit that category. He was a geek, sure. And a little socially awkward sometimes. But if he had issues, he wouldn’t hide them. He’d self-diagnose and dive into treatment, using himself as a test subject.

“Our species was made to experience sexual connections,” she said, shifting the discussion into scientific mode instead of personal, and instantly relaxing. “You know the statistics as well as I do. The odds of a romantic relationship lasting without sex are slim.”

“Alexia, relationships based on sexual heat don’t last. They flare hot and intense, then burn out just as fast.” Edward leaned forward, his words as sincere as the fervent look on his face. “Better to base a relationship on more solid, long-lasting emotions. Like friendship and similar interests. We share the same values, the same goals in life. That matters more than a few paltry orgasms.”

Well, sure. If they were paltry, she could see his point. Who needed that? Alexia thought, dumbfounded.

“We’re scientists who specialize in sexual health,” he continued. “Layering the physical elements into our relationship won’t be an issue. And when we do, it’ll be done in a well-thought-out, practical and measured way. Just as it should be between two intelligent scientists focused on the long term.”

Well... Wasn’t
that
sexy.

Alexia drained her margarita, the bitter tang of the pomegranate matching the taste on her tongue. Was that how she came across? As the kind of woman who would settle for measured practicality? In bed? There was only one thing she wanted to be measuring in bed.

Edward must have sensed her disquiet, because he shook his head, as if to stop her from saying anything.

“Think about it,” he said, giving her fingers one last squeeze before trading them for his fork again. “In the meantime, don’t worry about us. Get settled in your apartment, enjoy the weekend. Maybe reacquaint yourself with some of your old haunts. That’d be fun, right? Don’t you have a family event this weekend?”

“My father’s retirement party,” she acknowledged with an inward cringe. How fun was that going to be? The only thing that might appeal more was finding a gynecologist with a hook for a hand. Alexia signaled the waiter for another margarita.

“Just let it go for now. Let your subconscious work it through. I’ll wait awhile before I bring it up again.” He looked so sincere, so sweet, that it actively hurt to have to set him straight. But she wasn’t going to change her mind, and the sooner he accepted that, the sooner they could reestablish their friendship on its original terms. Alexia sighed, then, not seeing any choice, opened her mouth to tell him that she’d made up her mind already.

As if reading her intention, he hurried to say, “In the meantime, did I tell you about the latest round of crackpot threats the institute is getting?”

“The bitter women’s brigade is protesting sex again?” she asked, giving in and graciously letting him change the subject. That was part of the art of communication. Read the signals in order to know when to talk and when to let things go until a better time. Between his sidestepping the issue, refusing to listen and stiff-shouldered body language, she might as well give up. For now.

He nodded. “Oh, we hear from the women’s brigade about once a week. But this was a new one. A European gentleman wanted to offer us a grant to study anger and aggression.”

“There have been a number of studies in that area,” Alexia said, smiling her thanks to the waiter as he swapped her empty glass for a full one.

“Not with the focus of using subliminal messaging and brain-wave manipulation to incite anger.”

“Incite? Isn’t five o’clock on the 405 freeway enough to do that?”

After a brow-furrowed second, Edward quirked a smile, then shook his head. “Apparently not. This gentleman offered a huge sum of money. Enough that I was actually tempted, if not for the fact that we’re already so committed to the current project that it’d hurt our reputation to pull out at this point.”

Well,
goody
for future funding and the need to keep up one’s reputation. She hadn’t signed on for anger management, and didn’t like the idea that Edward and the institute’s focus could be bought. Alexia gripped her fork so tight it left a dent in her fingers, but managed to smother the anger before she made a nasty remark. Dating, friendship and the rest aside, Edward was still her boss. Calling him a greedy weasel was probably a bad idea.

But she’d taken the position at the institute because she wanted to help people. Because she knew the power sexual satisfaction could offer and truly believed that everyone deserved a chance at that kind of pleasure. Not to make money for whoever had the deepest pockets.

Her mind flashed back to hot, sexy and gorgeous on the beach that afternoon. As she let herself focus on the image of his butt, so tight and solid beneath those wet swim trunks, the red edges of anger faded from her vision. Now,
that
was the kind of guy who inspired fantasies and made a woman very, very aware that she was female. But for women with issues, whether from conditioning or abuse, that delight was out of reach.

Too bad she hadn’t gotten a chance to see if the reality of hot, sexy and gorgeous was as delicious as the fantasy. She could have called it work incentive.

Or just mind-blowingly awesome sex.

* * *

A
N
HOUR
AND
A
HALF
later, Alexia paid the cab and stepped onto the shell-encrusted sidewalk in front of JR’s. The club-slash-bar fronted a long stretch of beach, both lit up like carnival attractions.

She wasn’t sure why she was here. She definitely didn’t need another drink. But she didn’t want to go home, either. And the idea of spending any more time with Edward, pretending that everything was peachy keen, was enough to make her scream. She wanted to dance. To relax in a crowd of strangers. And JR’s was the only bar she knew well enough to feel safe. A regular hangout of the navy locals, it wasn’t that it didn’t get rowdy or wild. But it had three major advantages. One, it was a familiar place so she knew what she’d get when she walked through the door. Two, she was there to dance, and if anyone tried to push for more, her get-out-of-trouble-free card, aka the mention of her father’s name, would cut them off at the knee. And three, she’d never get involved with a military man. Ever. She’d had enough of the military growing up to know that a sailor’s first priority was to his very dangerous, often secretive career. And while she respected that, she had no interest in being background noise in someone’s life.

Still, walking into the club was like stepping face-first into chaos. Noise, so loud the music had to be felt instead of heard, pounded through her. Heat from the crowd of bodies swirled with an ambitious air conditioner. Lights flashed, strobed and glowed, depending on which way she turned her head.

Maybe she should have just gone home.

But she’d have gone crazy there, with only her thoughts and guilt for company. Michael was on a date, and three days back wasn’t enough time for her to have made any new friendships. So she was on her own.

And she needed action. Movement. Something to shake off the sexual tension that’d been driving at her all afternoon. Since hunting down the sexy guy from the beach wasn’t an option, she’d figured she’d do the next best thing to release body tension.
Dance.

About to head for the flashing lights of the dance floor and kick up the heels of her favorite Manolos, a man at the bar caught her attention.

Blake?

The hot, sexy and gorgeous from the beach?

A slow, wicked smile curved her lips at the sight.

He was just as appealing dry and clothed as he’d been wet and half-naked. In jeans and a simple T-shirt that did wonders for his broad shoulders, he looked like a guy who just wanted a drink and some alone-time. Too bad for him, though, since a blonde barracuda was tiptoeing her red talons up his chest. Was that his type? Blatant, busty and ballsy? He grabbed the blonde’s hand on its downward sweep, shaking his head. She didn’t back off. Alexia bit her lip to keep from laughing at the range of emotions chasing across his face. Irritation, confusion and just a hint of amusement. Poor guy, he probably hadn’t realized this was a navy bar. Which meant pushy, desperate women all focused on one thing. Catching themselves a sailor boy.

He looked as if he needed saving.

Sliding and pressing her way through the crowd of bodies, she made a path to the bar. The music was quieter here, but the cacophony of voices made up for it. She was about five feet away when Blake’s gaze found her. Delight flared in those blue depths, making her girl parts feel oh-so-happy. Happy enough that she hesitated. Getting all hot and wet over a stranger wasn’t a bad thing. But it wasn’t where she was at in her life right now, either. Despite what she’d told Michael, she had feelings for Edward. Ones that deserved to be explored. She couldn’t explore feelings for one guy while another was tickling her girlie parts. It just wasn’t right.

But could she leave Blake there at the mercy of the red-taloned barracuda?

As if sensing her struggle, Blake gave her a wide-eyed look of desperation.
Hurry up,
he mouthed. Alexia’s lips twitched, but her feet started moving again.

She bypassed the blonde and positioned herself behind Blake. Heavily made-up eyes glanced her way, dismissing her with a flick of false lashes.

It was going to take stronger measures, Alexia realized. Warning her girlie parts not to get too excited, she moved in close, draping her arm over the broad muscles of Blake’s shoulders. He was like steel. Solid, strong, sleek. Her mouth watered. To give it something to do before she actually drooled, she leaned forward to brush a friendly kiss over his cheek. He smelled like the ocean. Clean, salty, intoxicating.