Chapter Seven
KC stood on the patio, grilling the two rib-eye steaks he’d picked up on their way home from the range, along with a bottle of merlot and a few other groceries.
Two baked potatoes and fresh corn on the cob cooked on the upper rack of the gas grill.
He’d offered to make dinner for Maura after her surprisingly good performance at the range.
Ever since they left, he’d wanted to ask about her ex—figure out what kind of man she was dealing with, maybe make sure the bastard stayed gone—but he’d held off. No point ruining a decent meal with something like that.
Still, it sat heavy in his chest.
Whatever the guy had done, it had left its mark. She carried it in the way she watched everything… in how she flinched without meaning to.
KC’s jaw tightened.
Men who hurt women—physically or otherwise—were the lowest kind of trash. And if he ever got his hands on the one who’d put that fear in her eyes…
He dropped his head back and stared at the sky. Where the hell had that idea come from? He barely knew the woman, and already he was prepared to fight her battles for her?
Get a hold of yourself, Malone. Four weeks of self-defense and shooting lessons. Nothing more.
Uh-huh, right.
He told the devil on his shoulder to shut up and flipped the steaks with a little more force than necessary. Giving himself a mental shake, he reminded himself this was temporary, and Maura had given him no indication she wanted anything more than a place to stay for a few weeks.
If he repeated the “self-defense and shooting lessons only” mantra enough times, maybe he could keep himself in check. It wouldn’t be easy, but he'd already decided she was off-limits.
Standing behind her at the range had tested every ounce of his restraint. Her silky, auburn hair was made for a man to run his hands through, and her body had been created for pure pleasure. Being that close… it had been too easy to forget the situation and focus on everything else.
He exhaled slowly, forcing the thoughts aside.
She didn’t need to be mauled by a guy who’d been without a lover for almost a year.
After an abusive relationship, she needed someone gentle, and he knew if he ever got her in his bed, gentle wouldn’t be the first word that came to mind.
What he felt around her had the potential to turn intense—fast—and that kind of heat could overwhelm someone like Maura.
KC had been involved with plenty of lovers in his past, but no real relationships.
After weeding out the SEAL bunnies looking for a status position, he’d found very few women willing to stay with a man who could be sent on a last-minute, dangerous mission.
His tours were long, with the team being incommunicado for weeks or months at a time, and there was always the question of when or if he would ever be back.
So, he hooked up with women who wanted to have a few days or weeks of mutually gratifying off-the-wall sex, and when they both decided to move on, they’d go their separate ways with no regrets. It always worked for him in the past.
But lately… he’d started to wonder if that was enough. Maybe it was time for something more permanent. Something real.
If he left SEAL Team Six and took an instructor position, he’d be home most nights. That kind of stability could change things. Make a relationship possible.
He just wasn’t sure what to do with that thought yet.
When he heard the door above him open, he glanced over his shoulder as Maura stepped out. She leaned over the wooden banister facing him. “Since it’s still warm out, I thought we might eat out here on the deck. What do you think?”
He took a moment answering, his gaze drifting over her. She’d showered after they got home and changed into gray sweatpants and a white V-neck that showed a hint of cleavage—enough to make him notice.
What’s that cliché? The woman could make a burlap sack look sexy.
Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, still slightly damp, lifting in the light ocean breeze. Again, he had the urge to run his fingers through it to see if the strands were as soft as they seemed.
He must have taken too long to answer because she frowned. “Or we could sit inside if you want.”
KC shook his head to get his brain and mouth working again. “No, no. Out here is fine.”
Her smile lit up her face again. “Great. Then I’ll bring out the plates and utensils.”
She spun around and sashayed back toward the door, and he found himself appreciating the view for a beat longer than he should have.
He muttered under his breath and turned back to the grill, adjusting his stance to relieve the uncomfortable pressure below his belt.
Less than twenty-four hours in, and he was already in trouble.
Four weeks were going to feel like a lifetime.
Moriah placed her fork and knife on the empty plate in front of her and pushed it toward the center of the table.
“That was the best meal I’ve had in ages.
” And she meant it. She’d barely touched her sandwich at lunch after losing her appetite over the deal she’d made with KC, but now she felt more relaxed.
“Everything tasted delicious. Thanks so much for making dinner. You’re an excellent chef. ”
While they ate, they’d talked about a variety of safe subjects—the town of Whisper, the beach, old movies, current events, even the weather.
It had been easy. Comfortable. Peaceful.
Nothing personal had come up, and for a little while, she’d almost felt normal again.
Like she could be anyone she wanted to be.
Someone free and safe, without a care in the world.
No one else would know the difference.
But she would.
Swirling the dark red liquid in his glass, he smiled at her. “The pleasure was all mine. I love to cook, but don’t get a chance to do it often.”
“Well, I’m glad you had this opportunity, since I benefited from it.”
She watched him take a sip of wine, her attention catching on the simple movement—the tilt of the glass, the slow swallow, the brief flick of his tongue against his lip.
How the heck was she supposed to concentrate on anything but his body? He was the epitome of male perfection. His muscles rippled whenever he moved, and she longed to run her fingers and mouth over every inch of him.
Heat crept up her neck, and she quickly dragged her gaze away, focusing on the table instead.
He was exactly the kind of distraction she didn’t need.
Clearing her throat, she searched her brain for something else to talk about. “So, what do you do in the military? Which branch are you in?”
“The Navy. I joined when I was eighteen, two weeks after my high school graduation. I became a SEAL when I was twenty-three.”
“Wow, really? That’s a big thing, isn’t it? I mean, I don’t know much about the military, but everyone has heard about Navy SEALs these days. How long have you been one?”
“Twelve years, but I think I’m finally beginning to burn out.” He paused, then grunted. “Huh. That’s the first time I’ve admitted that to anyone except my brothers and uncle.”
Tilting her head, she eyed him curiously. “Why do you think you’re burning out?”
He relaxed against the back of the chair, stretching his legs out under the table.
“I guess I’m just tired of being in the worst countries in the world, seeing the evils that exist, and fighting the scum of the earth.
I can be out of the U.S. for months at a time, and then I stay in my apartment near the base or here when I have some extended time off.
I don’t own anything except my car. I don’t know.
Maybe it’s time to retire, buy a house near the base, and settle down.
Leave the fighting and secret operations to the younger guys and start training the newbies. ”
“Younger guys?” she asked, incredulously. She quickly did the math in her head. “How old are you, thirty-five?” He nodded in agreement. “I’m twenty-seven, so thirty-five doesn’t sound very old at all.”
“It is in the SEALs. I’m actually the second-oldest guy on my team by one year. In my business, you can burn out quickly. Sometimes I’m surprised I’m still there. But leaving my teammates is a big decision. They’re like family, and for a lot of the guys, I’m sort of their big brother.”
“As I said, I’ve heard of Navy SEALs but never knew what they were besides being this group of tough guys everyone talks about. Well, that and when they’re the heroes in romance novels.”
He chuckled as he rested his hands and wine glass on his chiseled abs. “Romantic heroes, huh? I’ve spent weeks in the middle of nowhere with those guys, without showers and other amenities. I can honestly tell you, there’s nothing romantic about it.”
She giggled, and he continued. “I’ll give you a little military history lesson.
SEAL stands for Sea, Air, and Land. It’s an elite group formed by the Navy under President Kennedy in 1962.
Most of the candidates who are chosen for SEALs’ training wind up dropping out because it’s so intense.
We go on clandestine operations that other units can’t for one reason or another.
We can be sent in under any conditions or to any location, but many of our training and missions involve water of some kind.
Usually, it’s our way into or out of some foreign country, unless it’s landlocked, of course.
“Some of the missions can be over pretty quickly, while other times, they can go on for months. Our work sends us into countries we’re not allowed to mention, and we perform missions that, as far as the rest of the world is concerned, never happened.”
“Is that why you don’t have a military haircut? Because you were undercover?”
Nodding, he ran a hand through his hair.
“Yup. But I can’t tell you anything about it.
The key to the SEALs’ ongoing success is the silence of its members, and it’s what makes our teammates so close.
We can’t discuss our operations with any civilians or members of the military outside of our own teams. We use each other as our personal psychologists for any subjects related to our missions, rather than our families, wives, or girlfriends.
Unfortunately, some women have problems with that, so a lot of our guys are single. ”
“Do you have one?”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “One what?”
“You’re obviously not married, but do you have a girlfriend?”
She gave herself a mental smack. She wasn’t interested in him... was she? Well, it wouldn’t make any difference if she were or not—he would be gone in four weeks, and she would probably be leaving even sooner. Getting attached was not an option.
“No,” he answered easily. “I’m single and have been for quite a while.”
Moriah nodded, then steered the conversation back to safer ground. “You sound like you love what you do.”
A small smile spread across his face. “I do, but as I said, I think it might be my time to move on.”
“What will you do if you leave the Navy?”
After taking another sip of wine, he shook his head. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly be leaving the Navy, just my team. I’ve been offered an instructor position at the base in Little Creek. I’d be training the younger guys.”
Her eyes widened. “Wow, that’s great. I think you would be a fantastic instructor.”
“You do? Why?”
Pointing to herself, she giggled. “Well, look how well you taught me to shoot today. I couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn, as they say, before I met you.”
He grinned. “That was easy. I told you, you’re a natural.”
“That may be, but I still think you’re a great instructor.” Tilting her chin up, she all but dared him to argue with her further. “You should go for it.”
His gaze fell to his wine glass, and he let out a little chuckle. “Thanks. Maybe I will.”
“Good. Now that I’ve given my unsolicited opinion about your career change, let me clean this up.”
When she stood, KC did the same. “I’ll help.”
“No, I have it.” She waved him back to his seat. “You cooked. Besides, it won’t take long since we only used the two place settings and no pots or pans. I’ll put on some coffee.”
Carrying the plates and utensils into the house, she tried to push aside the feelings of domesticity.
This had been the best evening she’d ever spent with a man, but dinner and conversation were as far as it could go between them.
Even if she wasn’t on the run, she doubted KC would be interested in her.
She was eight years his junior and had come from nothing.
He, on the other hand, had a career and plans for the future.
Her only goal was to be still alive to wake up every morning—not exactly something to attract a man with.