Contract with a SEAL (Special Ops: Homefront Book 3) (2 page)

“And I take it you didn’t call.”

“No. I called a cab.”

Sighing, Maeve stretched to reach the top
of the tree and attach a gold, glitter-covered star. “Okay. So let’s put the
past behind us and move on. If it comes up, you just tell him you never called
because you were still reeling from the divorce.”

“But it won’t come up.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not calling him.”

Still struggling to attach the star,
Maeve stole a quick glance over her shoulder. “Picture it, Vi. He’s just what
you need. You walk into that gala on Joe Shey’s arm, and not one person will
even remember you got divorced. They’ll all be saying, ‘Josh who?’”

“Yeah. Him in uniform with all those
shiny medals on his chest. Surrounded by a bunch of guys in boring tuxes,
everyone will want to talk to him.” A baby Jesus in her grasp, Bess glanced
down at the nativity scene. “Guys, aren’t there three wise men?”

“Yeah. There’s three there.”

“No. This is a shepherd boy.”

“It’s a wise man.”

Vi stood up to take a look. “She’s right.
Looks more like a shepherd boy.”

“No wonder it was on sale.” Maeve shrugged.
“Anyway, Joe would have everyone eating out of the palm of his hand. He’s a
great conversationalist. So many stories to tell and he just knows so much. We
went on a date once, and he really blew my mind.”

Vi’s eyes widened. “You dated him?”

“Only once. I was already eyeball-deep in
love with Jack at the time, but too stupid to admit it yet.” Maeve frowned one
last time at the nativity, and then looked at Vi. “You have to at least call
him. Worst he can say is no.”

 Vi plopped back onto the couch. “I
don’t even have his number anymore.”

“I have it,” Maeve offered.

Of course.
Vi should have expected that. “I don’t
have anything to wear, then.”

Maeve cocked her head. “We’ll go
shopping. Cut the excuses, Spineless. Call the guy.”

“You guys aren’t going to let up unless I
do, are you?”

Maeve and Bess answered in unison.
“Nope.”

Vi sighed, suddenly realizing why she had
lived so many years without roommates. “Okay. Get me his number.”

***

The early winter wind chilled his sweat-soaked
body as it gusted off the Atlantic Ocean. Joe’s feet hammered the ground, while
the sand that had slipped into his running shoes sliced into feet.

It was damn uncomfortable, but Joe couldn’t
have imagined a better way to spend his Friday evening. Most tourists had
departed Virginia Beach for destinations further south by now, and Joe was
grateful for the solitude, and for the long expanse of good running sand that
stretched out in front of him. It was harder to run in sand than on pavement, a
better workout for his body, and better preparation for future deployments to
the Middle East.

A pod of dolphins broke the surface of
the water alongside him, and he raced them for about a half mile till they
disappeared again beneath the waves.

The ocean had called to him tonight, and
it was during evenings like this he nearly regretted becoming a SEAL because so
many of his missions were land-locked. Every once in a while, he imagined what
his life might have been if he had eyed a position on a naval vessel,
captaining a frigate or eventually an aircraft carrier.

But the SEALs were where he was most
needed by his country, being a man who never shied away from a firefight or a
rescue mission when the need arose. And after countless deployments and
commands, there was no turning back on the course that he had laid out for
himself since the day he had decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and
attend the U.S. Naval Academy.

He loved the water, watching the waves
crash against the sand. There was only one view he wanted to look at more in
his life and, as he had done so many times before, he called the image forward
in his mind with its lush green leaves, and sweet, scented air, just long
enough to put a little more power behind his steps. Then the image vanished as
quickly as it had appeared, a dream meant for a different day, a different
year.

The brisk air chilled his lungs almost
painfully as he drew in fast and steady breaths. The sting energized him as he
ran, feeling liberated, miles from the base where people recognized him,
saluted him, or were always somehow hell-bent to intrude upon his peaceful evening.

Here, he was just Joe Shey, runner.

Till he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. 
He stopped abruptly.
Dammit
. He hated that he even had to carry a phone
on his runs. Couldn’t he have a few moments just to himself? But that was the
life of a SEAL commander. He was on call 24-7.

Glancing at the phone, he frowned, not
recognizing the number. “Joe Shey.”

“Joe. Hi. It’s Vi. Vi Owens. I don’t know
if you remember me. We, uh, danced at Lacey and Mick’s wedding. Maeve gave me
your number.”

Joe nearly laughed at that statement. How
could he, or
any
man forget Vi Owens? At the wedding, he had recognized
her immediately as one of those talking heads on some of the financial shows
he’d watch when his scheduled allowed. But it was the way that red bridesmaid
dress silhouetted her body, and the feel of her softness pressed up against him
as they danced that night, that had etched Vi Owens into his libido for
eternity.

But dancing was all Joe would allow
himself to do with the sultry financial correspondent. Strike one: Vi was the
sister-in-law of someone he once commanded on more than a few SEAL missions. Strike
two: according to Mick, she was newly divorced and vulnerable as hell. Strike
three: Vi had been drinking like a Sailor on overseas liberty and her judgment
was severely hampered.

Vi Owens was off limits to him for the
night, whether he liked it or not.

But God, just the fleeting memory of her was
all it took to heat every square inch of his body against the wind’s biting
breeze.

“Of course I remember you. How are you,
Vi?”

“I’m fine.”

After several commands, Joe had learned how
to read people well. An untimely pause, the strain of a tone, a jagged breath were
all good indicators that Vi wasn’t fine at all at this moment.

“How are you?” she finally asked.

“Great. Enjoying a run along the beach
right now.”

“Oh, I can call back some other time,”
she said quickly. Too quickly.

Curiosity overtaking him, Joe started
walking for the benches along the boardwalk. Strange that she had waited five
months to call him and now was rushing to get off the phone.

“No, no. I was just finishing up,” he
said, sitting down to one of the best views in Virginia Beach. “How are things
in Atlanta?”

Vi let out an awkward laugh. “I wouldn’t
know. The network offered me a transfer to DC. I’m living in the house where Lacey
used to live. You know, the house where the wedding was? I’ll be here a few
months while I shop for a condo.”

“That’s great. How’s Maeve holding up
with Jack gone?”

“Hanging in there. She’s really keeping
busy with work.”

“And Lacey?”

“It’s hard, but she’s doing okay. She’s
enrolled in a psychology Master’s program in San Diego, and says it keeps her
mind off things.”

“Good for her. There’s a good support
network out there for her, too. Make sure she gets involved with the other team
wives and doesn’t hole up in their home for the duration. Is she coming back to
Annapolis for the holidays?”

“Actually, we both went to our parents in
Chicago for Thanksgiving. But Lacey said she wants to stay in California this Christmas.
You know, on the off-chance Mick shows up on her doorstep. I think she’s seen
too many of those YouTube reunion videos. Any idea whether that might actually
happen?”

“He’s on a different team now, so I’d
have no clue. And if I did—”

“I know, I know. You’d have to shoot me
if you told me.”

Joe laughed. “Kind of like that. I guess
you hear that a lot these days.”

“Yes. From Mick and Jack. I don’t know
why any woman would fall for a guy like you.”

“I can’t disagree with you there,” Joe
agreed. With two ex-wives, and no interest in acquiring a third, Joe had
already decided that SEALs were a hard bunch to settle down with. Some seemed to
make it the distance. But others, like his sorry marriages, weren’t strong
enough make it around the first lap. “How are you liking Annapolis?”

“It’s different. So quiet. People here
are really laid back. I better find someplace in DC fast or I’ll start to
adjust.”

Joe’s eyes drifted to the choppy horizon
as a trio of seagulls dove for their dinner. “Once you get used to living on
the water like that, you’ll never be able to get it out of your blood.”

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat after an
awkward pause. “Listen, I’ll cut to the chase.”

About time.
A half-smile perked upwards on Joe’s
face. He had a feeling Vi was always one to cut to the chase. Even at the
wedding, small talk didn’t seem to be her forte.

“I kind of need a favor, Joe.”

He stretched his legs in front of him,
picturing her for a moment, biting one of those marvelous lips of hers
nervously as she held her cell to her ear. Even in memory, Vi Owens was a
sight. “No problem. What can I do?”

She let out a feeble laugh. “Don’t say
that till I tell you what I need.”

“Usually when people need something from
me, I have to arm myself with an HK416 and ship out for three or four months. There
aren’t too many favors that I can’t handle.”

The pause on the other end of the phone
was lengthy, but Joe let the silence prevail until she finally spoke up again.

“I need a date.” She nearly stuttered the
last word. “A date to a correspondents’ gala. It’s black tie. A good meal and
lots of painfully boring speakers. I go every year.”

Again, Vi’s image came to mind—long
legs, sultry lips, and the kind of long, dark curls men just want to wrap
around their fingers. Finding a date shouldn’t be so hard for Vi Owens that she’d
practically stammer the invitation.

“And you’re asking me,” he specified,
lowering his chin slightly.

“Yes. It’s in two weeks on Saturday
night. I know it’s a long drive up here, but I’ll cover your hotel room.”

Joe visibly bristled at the suggestion. What
the hell kind of men was Vi used to dealing with that she’d even offer such a
thing? “That’s not necessary, Vi. In fact, it would be a definite deal
breaker.”

“Um, okay. But you’ll go?”

Joe paused thoughtfully. The timing was
certainly off for a date with Vi Owens. But she sounded like she might
prematurely expire if he turned her down. “Sure. Unless we suddenly need to
deploy, you’ve got yourself a date.”

“Really?”

How is it that she can sound so relieved?
Hasn’t she looked in the mirror lately?

“Love to,” he replied. “It’ll be nice to
go someplace in a tux rather than a dress uniform.”

Another awkward pause met him on the
other end of the phone. “Oh. Umm, here’s the thing,” she began. “You could wear
your dress uniform. I mean, that would be really fine with me.”

“Kind of looks ridiculous if it’s not a
military gala. I don’t mind wearing a tux.”

The sigh he heard escape her could
accurately be described as painful. “Oh, God,” she whimpered.

“What?”

“You’re really going to make me say this,
aren’t you?”

“Say what, Vi?”

“I’d really, really rather you wore your
uniform.”

Joe cocked his head at the desperation in
her tone. Odd, Vi didn’t seem like the type to have some kind of uniform fetish
or something. “Why?”

“Okay. This is embarrassing. But my ex is
going to be there. As well as at least three hundred people who know about how
he cheated on me after only being married a few months. And I just really want
to… I don’t know how to say this.”

Realization formed in his head. “You want
to show them all you’re doing just fine. And a guy with a few dozen medals on
his chest might just distract them from what’s happened in the past.” Being
twice divorced, he’d been in similar situations before a few times in his life.

Her voice sounded relieved. “Exactly. Sound
pathetic enough?”

“Shrewd, not pathetic. Why didn’t you
tell me in the first place?”

“I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

“And miss out on the chance to avenge
some guy who cheated on you? That’s totally up my alley.”

Vi laughed. “Still don’t want me to pick
up the hotel bill?”

“Hell no.” Joe smiled out to the salty
horizon. “I guessed there was something more to this since I hadn’t heard from
you in so long.”

“Oh, please. How could I have called you?
I was so embarrassed. I haven’t been that drunk since—well, ever,
actually. I can barely remember you driving me home, but I’m pretty sure I
threw myself at you.”