Saved by a SEAL (Hot SEALs Book 2) (5 page)

“No, you’re the one who’s cute.” He watched as she met his gaze and then shyly
dropped her eyes away from his.

The situation with his father and the reason for this date was too fucked up for him to be able to handle how intense things we
re starting to feel with Missy.

He’d done some less than honorable things in his personal life, but he was most comfortable being upfront with the women he spent
time with. Sex with no strings or a one-night stand presented no moral dilemma for him as long as his female counterpart knew what she was getting into up front. Before the clothes came off, he liked to set things straight.

It all boiled down to expectations.
If she expected more than he was willing to give, then that was the time for Zane to walk away. He wasn’t out to cause anyone heartbreak. But this situation with Missy, forced upon him by his father, went against the very philosophy that Zane tried to live by—open honesty.

Maybe he’d be better off telling her the comp
lete truth, but that could hurt her worse than simply keeping the charade to himself. It would be so much easier for both of them to just let her go off to Nigeria for three months never knowing.

Zane liked his love life simple—catch and
release, and then move on. The problem was, Missy wasn’t anything like his usual prey.

Damn his father to hell for choosing this particular girl as the condition
for the investment.

While Zane
was at it, he cursed Jon for coming up with the idea for GAPS that had put him in this position in the first place.

He resented Missy too for being so damn sweet
that she’d made him like her. Made him wish he were the kind of man who could be happy having a girlfriend or a wife, instead of the man he was. One who could only be happy with the next new conquest.

That brought him full circle, back to hating his father for demanding the one thing Zane couldn’t give—
commitment at the expense of his freedom.

He reached out and took the messenger bag from Missy.
“Choose which size pack you want and then we can head to the knife counter.”

CHAPTER 7

Missy wove her way through the
sprawling acres of manicured grass along the driveway that led to the clubhouse. She crept along in her car at a snail’s pace in reverence to the golfers who sometimes crossed the driveway.

She’d grown up at this club, spending ev
ery day during the summer here. She’d eaten meals, learned to swim, golf and play tennis here. Celebrated birthdays and holidays, had made friends and had lost them, all while here.

And she’d fallen in love here—or at least
she thought she had.

As a teenager it had been
easy to believe she’d die of a broken heart if Zane Alexander didn’t fall as deeply in love with her as she was with him. But she hadn’t died in spite of the fact it had felt as if she would when he’d left, first for college, and then for the Navy.

She glanced in the rear
view mirror and saw him, convertible top down, sunglasses on, his light brown hair windblown. A foursome of ladies standing at the tee all turned in unison like a team of synchronized swimmers to watch Zane drive by. She was sure it would be the same in the dining room. It always had been, but tonight Missy would be the one who’d be sitting opposite him.

This time yesterday, if someone had told her she’
d be having dinner with Zane after spending the afternoon shopping with him she would have told them they were crazy. It was hard to believe even now, but the proof was in the sports car creeping slowly along behind her.

Missy pulled up in
front of the massive clubhouse and cut the engine, leaving the keys in the ignition for the valet.

He opened the car door for her.
“Good evening, Miss Greenwood. Should I keep the car in the courtyard or will you be staying awhile?”

“
I’m having dinner.”

“
Very good.” He nodded and slid behind the wheel. He pulled away to park the car in the lot as she moved to the wide set of front steps to wait for Zane.

The impressive stone building had
been built in the late eighteen hundreds. It always gave Missy the feeling of stepping back in time when she walked through the front doors. Aside from the modern cars outside and the sign requesting cell phones be put on silent just inside the massive front doors, she supposed it hadn’t changed all that much over the centuries.

Neither had the members.
There would always be those families with old money who looked down upon those with new money. Men—white, straight, and Protestant—still dominated the club’s board, while their wives, also of the same demographic, gossiped behind each other’s backs while smiling to one another’s faces.

This place was truly stuck in the past and, sadly, Missy feared it wasn’t about to change soon. That was one reason why she’d been so surprised when Zane had suggested they eat here. Nothing, including the menu, had changed over the decade since he’d abandoned this life.

Speaking of Zane, she realized he hadn’t pulled up behind her. Instead, he’d parked his car himself in the lot. She saw him now, jogging toward her with a bag not much different from the one she’d purchased in his hand.

She smiled as he neared. “Don’t trust the valet to drive your baby?”

“I feel more comfortable having control of my keys.”

That was interesting. The club grounds had always been secure. There was no danger of theft here. “Really?
”

Zane
hesitated and then drew in a breath. “I’ve got a weapon locked in the glove box.”

“Oh.” Her brows rose at that revelation.
It always had been hard for her to reconcile the memory of the rarely serious boy she’d known growing up with the hardcore image of a man who’d made the military his career.

He took her by the elbow, steering her toward the door. As they walked, he leaned low and
close to her ear. “Don’t worry, I won’t have anything dangerous on me for dinner. At least, not a weapon.”

The warmth
of his words against her ear sent a shiver traveling down her spine. She glanced sideways and saw his grin. “That’s good to hear. I wouldn’t want something to go off during dinner and give any of the older members a heart attack.

He grinned wider. “Would never happen. I
always have complete control.”

That was too bad.
As he put his bag down on the bench inside the front hallway and helped Missy off with her coat, she decided she wouldn’t mind seeing Zane lose a bit of that control with her.

With a wink and a smile,
Zane handed her coat off to the woman manning the coatroom and Missy realized something. Just like in the old days, Zane still flirted with every female he came in contact with. Young and old alike. With both strangers and old friends.

His joking with
her when they’d first walked in, his double entendre about his control of his loaded weapon, was likely as far as things would ever go between them. He’d called her because his father had told him to.

That thought was like a bucket of cold water thrown over he
r good spirits in spite of the warmth of his hand against the small of her back as he steered her into the lobby.

“I have to run down to the men’s locker room to change. Do you want to wait
for me here in the lobby or in the bar?”

“In the bar.”
There had been no need to think about her answer. Right about now, Missy needed a drink.

“A
ll right. I won’t be long.” After shooting her a smile the likes of which she was sure had charmed females around the globe, Zane headed toward the stairs leading down to the locker rooms.

Turning, Missy caught sight of two waitresses whispering as they watched him walk away. With a huff, she strode past them, making a beeline for the bar. Getting through this evening was going to require a nice big drink. Or two. Maybe then she wouldn’t care
anymore.

She’d already put a bit of a dent in the martini in front of her by the time Zane reappeared. He eyed her glass and then her as he lifted one brow. “I remember a day when you used to
sit at this bar and drink Shirley Temples. Extra cherries.”

“I’m surprised you remember. That was a long time ago.” That he remembered such a small detail from so many years ago only seemed to make her angry.

It wasn’t her imagination that they’d been close, and yet he hadn’t bothered to contact her in the past ten years.

“I have a good memory.”
He smiled.

“Apparently.”

Zane turned as the bartender approached them. “Whatever light beer you’ve got is fine.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Light beer?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am. Have to watch my figure.” He grinned and accepted the bottle
, but pushed back the empty glass the bartender had placed in front of him.

She cocked a brow. “I pegged you for a scotch man like your father.”

“That’s reason enough to order a beer, right there.” He raised the bottle to her in a toast and then pressed it to his lips.

“Still stubborn, I see.”

“Until the day I die. Enough about me. When do you leave for your trip?”

“In five days. Not that I’m counting, or anything.”

He barked out a laugh. “Of course you’re not. Just like I didn’t count down the hours until I left for college or for boot camp.”

She had counted down the hours until he’d left too, but for a different reason.

“What’s wrong?” Zane’s hand covered hers.

Missy
glanced up. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

“That big sigh you just let out, for one.”

Maybe it was the alcohol making her bold, but she decided to tell him exactly what was wrong. “I just would have thought that at least once over the past ten years I would have seen you. Christmas. Thanksgiving. The club golf tournament. I don’t know. Some time.”

“I’m away a lot. I spent
last Thanksgiving and Christmas in Jalalabad. And when I am stateside, I guess I do avoid coming home. Georgie and I don’t see eye-to-eye on most things. Hell. On anything, really.”

“Yet when he suggested you call me, you did.”

“And I’m glad I did.” He squeezed her fingers.

She wasn’t going to let him off that easily. “You know, there are other people here besides your father. People who miss you. Like your mother.”

And Missy too, but she left that part unspoken.

He dropped his chin to his chest. When he brought his h
ead back up, his expression made him look sincerely contrite. “I know and I’m going to try to be better about keeping in touch from now on.”

“That’s good. I’m sure that will make your mother happy.”
It would make Missy happy too, but she wasn’t about to say that out loud either.

In the months since she’d planned her trip to Nigeria, this was the first time she let herself see past that time
, to look forward to returning. It was foolish of her. This was Zane Alexander, the boy who’d been a Casanova since he hit puberty.

People changed. Had Zane?

He tugged on her hand, making her turn fully to face him. “I want you to promise me something.”

Her mouth went dry beneath the intensity of his stare. “Okay.”

“Be careful over there.”

“Everyone said the area where the school
is located is perfectly safe. Are you worried about me?” She smiled at the idea he might be.

“No
where is perfectly safe. Trust me on that. And yes, I am worried about you.”

Maybe she should have gone to Nigeria when she’d been
a teenager. If she had known it would garner this much attention from Zane, she might have seriously considered it.

Keeping her pinned beneath his green-eyed gaze, h
e reached out and captured her other hand, as well. “Melissa. Promise me.”

Hearing her given name from his lips rather than the childish nickname she’d never been able to shake, she found it hard to
breathe. Somehow she managed to respond. “I promise.”

He dipped his head in a single nod a
nd then dropped his hold on her. “It’s after six. We should go sit.”

“Okay.” Still unsteady just from his touch
, she reached for her drink and tried not to spill it as she slipped off the bar stool and followed Zane toward the dining room.