Navy SEAL Seduction Page 8

  The faint note of jealousy in his deep voice amused her. “He has the coffee factory to run. Collette is the manager who oversees the women. She’s the only one suitable until Clare returns. She’s the daughter of a friend who graduated from university in Spain and is doing an internship with a large NGO in Europe. She’ll be here in another month or two.”

  Jarrett finished the water and capped the bottle. “Here’s what you need to do. Act as if you’re leaving for the long-term and hint that Fleur’s visa is coming through soon and you’ll be boarding a plane to Miami with her and leaving with me. That will draw heat away from you, and make whoever is targeting you relax a little. Throw them off guard.”

  She began to see what he planned. “And while they are relaxed, you’ll have time to ask questions. But no one will talk with you. You’re a stranger and an American.”

  “But they will talk with Rose when she goes into town to buy paint to whitewash the wall. I have my own methods of interrogation. When I catch the bastard who did this, he’ll talk.”

  The empty bottle crushed beneath his grip. Her stomach tightened at the grim look on his face. Jarrett had always been gentle with her, and when she’d seen him skipping rope this afternoon with Fleur, it made her melt. He’d been so good with her friend’s children and he’d have made an excellent father. But he was a SEAL and a fighter, and this lethal side of him she’d seldom seen.

  She needed to find a way to relax or she’d never sleep tonight, and tomorrow was an important day. Paul was meeting with her to go over the profit and loss statement of their shared business and she had a bad feeling about it.

  Lacey tapped her fingers on the table. “I have some wicked peppers that would break the strongest man. You’re welcome to use them.”

  He blinked in apparent surprise. “Oh you do, my little creampuff killer?”

  Smiling at the nickname, she went into the little room that she’d made into a pantry and returned with a jar of ripe, red peppers. The tiny peppers looked like cherry tomatoes, but packed a punch. Rose loved to cook with them.

  My little creampuff killer. The nickname came from when he’d come home banged up and hospitalized, requiring surgery. She’d found out he hadn’t received his morphine dose and railed at the hospital staff. Lacey had gone through the ranks until she made certain Jarrett received what he needed. Later he’d joked about overhearing an orderly shake his head and say, “Your wife may look like a creampuff, but she’s a killer when it comes to your welfare.”

  Jarrett raised his dark brows when she emerged from the pantry with the jar of peppers.

  “These will make a grown man cry. A friend from Guyana brought me some on his last trip there when he was with the Peace Corps. Wiri Wiri peppers are ten times more lethal than a jalapeño. Tasty, though. I bet you can’t eat one whole.”

  At the challenge, he leaned forward. “You’re on, sweetheart. I can eat five straight. I bet you can’t eat two whole.”

  “Stakes?”

  “If you win, I’ll sleep alone.”

  “You’re sleeping alone, anyway, buddy,” she warned.

  “And if I win, you give me a kiss.”

  Her mouth watered. Since the moment she’d seen him in the hotel, her body had tingled with memories of the hours they’d spent in bed, pleasuring each other. Jarrett was such a great kisser. Her female hormones sang out, “Lose, lose, lose!”

  He watched her, his green gaze intent on her face. Lacey licked her lips, aware he tracked the move. She longed to kiss him. Seeing him this afternoon after his run around the compound had reminded her of what they once shared.

  As she’d stared at him swigging down the water, she’d admired the curves of his muscled calves. Dusted with dark hair, his legs were firm and trim. Not an ounce of fat on the man, and seeing his wet gray shirt plastered to his body reminded her of the time years ago when he’d returned from a long run when they were married and he was home from a recent deployment.

  Sweat streaming down his temples, he had drunk a bottle of water and wiped his face with the corner of his shirt. She’d been standing behind him, staring at his butt. Jarrett had a terrific butt, tight and smooth, and then her gaze dropped to the curves of sinew and muscle lining his long legs.

  Her need had been so very great. Lacey had stolen behind him, wrapped her arms around him, very glad that he was hers.

  The impromptu hug had led to him seating her on the counter, pulling off her panties and thrusting deep inside her. The sex had been quick, hot and very satisfactory.

  That was in the past. But one kiss now wouldn’t hurt. Wouldn’t lead to other things. She could control her raging libido. Oh, yeah.

  “Do you have any milk handy?”

  She went to the refrigerator and poured two glasses and set them on the table, along with a loaf of French bread. Milk and bread were essential for eating these peppers raw.

  On second thought, if she lost, she wouldn’t want him to taste pepper juice and get all turned off. Lacey found a tin of butter mints and put those on the table, as well.

  Clever guy. He grinned as he sampled a mint. “I play to win, sweetheart.”

  “Oh? Get ready, tough guy. I have an immunity to hot peppers.” Lacey uncapped the jar and pushed it toward him. “You’re on, Jarrett.”

  He shook his head. “Challenger goes first.”

  She bit into one and wheezed. Oh wow, that was bad, bad, bad. She managed to swallow and gasped.

  Jarrett took one and didn’t blink as he ate it. Of course. The man was forged from molten steel, despite his SEAL nickname of “Iceman.”

  After the second pepper, her eyes watered, and her throat felt on fire. Lacey gripped the table. “Holy crap.”

  She gulped down the milk and her stomach roiled, but then finally settled. Jarrett broke off a piece of bread. “Eat this. Helps with the burn.”

  As Lacey gulped down the white bread, and then more milk, he ate two more peppers and then leaned back in the chair. He took his glass of milk and sipped as if it was a cocktail and he hadn’t eaten five raw peppers that could bring a grown man to his knees.

  “I win.”

  “How the heck did you do that? Part of your SEAL training?”

  He grinned, setting down the milk. Jarrett ate two mints. She ate three and wiped her eyes with a napkin. “Confess, mister. How did you eat those peppers?”

  “I cheated. I didn’t bite the pepper. Swallowed it whole.”

  Lacey sputtered. “You what?”

  “Learned that from a buddy during a contest. You can do it with peppers that are small enough. Works every time.” His grin dropped and heat smoldered in his eyes. Jarrett was all business. No more joking around. “Now, about that kiss.”

  Her mouth curled into a wicked smile. “On the forehead, like a good ex-husband.”

  “The hell with that,” he growled. Jarrett pushed back his chair so quickly it nearly fell, pulled her upright. As she sagged against him with a startled whumph of air, he bent down and she had time to register his warm breath feathering against her trembling lips before he claimed her mouth.

  He didn’t kiss her like any other man ever did. He devoured her, his mouth moving hotly over hers, his tongue thrusting past her lips and licking the inside of her mouth. Jarrett kissed like the times when she knew he’d have her naked and in bed, her legs spread wide for him. He kissed with the arrogant confidence of knowing he’d have her screaming his name.

  Then his mouth left hers and Jarrett kissed a fiery trail down to her ear, right behind the lobe where he knew she loved being kissed. Her knees buckled, but he held her up with one strong arm as he fisted a hand in her long hair.

  Lacey slid her arms around his neck as he skimmed a hand down the curve of her spine. She wanted him inside her like he’d been before. Moving inside her, creating a dance that set her body humming like a live electrical wire. Making her feel sore and used and dazed with sweet pleasure. Claiming her so thoroughly, going into her body so deep that she�
�d feel him days later, after the front door had quietly shut and he’d gone off to yet another mission, and she’d wondered if he’d come home to her this time. The smell of his spicy aftershave lingering on his pillow, in her nostrils, the remembrance of sweat and the musk of sex.

  He pressed her closer and she felt the rigid length of his erection. Awareness pushed aside the sensual heat licking through her body. This was Jarrett, determined and ruthless in his pursuit. The man had chased after her, determined to marry her and bring her home as his wife.

  No longer his wife. And her life had changed. Lacey reluctantly pulled away. As he stepped back, his eyes darkened and grew stormy.

  “You said a kiss,” she whispered. “That wasn’t a kiss. That was...a take-no-prisoners move. Why, Jarrett?”

  “Had to do that. Like the first time I kissed you. I had to kiss you quickly, in case you changed your mind. Because if I didn’t kiss you, damn it, I was gonna die.”

  Shaken by the intensity and her own reaction, she sank back into the chair. He pulled out his own chair and quietly regarded her. She touched her mouth, swollen by his kisses. “I remember our first kiss. And the first time we made love. That’s in the past, Jarrett. I’ve changed. And so have you. We can’t recapture what we once had.”

  Expecting denial, she was surprised to see him nod. “I know.”

  “Maybe things would have been different if...” Lacey stopped, not wanting to provoke an argument.

  “If I wasn’t a SEAL? If I hadn’t been gone so much?”

  She looked at him directly. “Yes. And I had issues, too. If I hadn’t been so lost, maybe it could have worked out.”

  Two lines dented his dark brows. “Lost? You?”

  “I always felt like I searched for my place in the world. While you were off fighting the bad guys, keeping the country safe for us, I was shopping and waiting for you to return home, trying to deal with the fear that one day you might not come home at all.”

  He stretched out his long legs and folded his arms across his broad chest. “There are bad people in this world, Lace. It’s my job to protect civilians against them. The world is getting very dangerous.”

  “You don’t need to lecture me about that.”

  “I didn’t mean to sound condescending. Was just stating a fact I wish I could change.”

  She pushed at the jar of peppers. “I used to insulate myself from your world, your work, when we were married. I figured if I made you a safe little cocoon, far away from the nasty things you had to see, and do, it would protect us both. I guess it was a little self-centered, like the shopping I always enjoyed. And then I came here to live and there it was, in my face.”

  Silence draped between them, but for the dripping of water into the sink. She’d meant to fix that. Another thing she had needed to get done around here. So many little tasks left undone because there simply wasn’t enough time.

  “I want Fleur to have all the opportunities she can, get the help she needs to heal. But in a way, when I go back home it will be an adjustment like the one you always had to make after deployment. Even when I lived here as a teenager, I was insulated from the poverty and the misery. Now I’m not.

  “My friends from the States don’t understand. They want to discuss theater and fashion and how they beat the stock market and I’ve been helping a woman beaten so badly that she’ll never walk correctly again. They worry about their kids not getting into a prep school that will guarantee them an Ivy League entrance and feeding them organic whole foods, and I’m worrying about women with kids who won’t even live to see their fifth birthday because they don’t eat, period.”

  She took a deep breath. The world was evil, but there were good men like Jarrett who fought the evil and pushed back the darkness a little.

  Jarrett’s expression softened. He started to reach for her hand. “Lace, you were never self-centered. You were one of the most...”

  A scream sounded from the hallway, cutting him off.

  CHAPTER 7

  “Fleur,” his ex-wife breathed. “No, not again.”

  Jarrett followed her as Lacey ran into the hallway toward the back bedrooms. Was it a threat? Did someone break in? He’d checked the house twice, but damn, maybe he should have checked it again.

  Pushing open her daughter’s door, she raced into the room and flipped on a light.

  The child thrashed on the bed, screaming pitifully, her arms waving. Lacey gathered her close and rocked Fleur back and forth in her arms. Fleur woke up and began to sob.

  “The bad man, the bad man, he was hurting her! Chou Chou!”

  Lacey’s troubled gaze met Jarrett’s as he entered the bedroom.

  “Always the nightmares. I thought they were going away. I feel so damn helpless. She needs more than she can get here, Jarrett. And I can’t get her home. I can’t get her home where she’ll be safe and I can really take care of her.”

  Jarrett’s heart twisted as he looked at Lacey, her long hair tumbling down her back, her mouth swollen from his fierce, possessive kisses, her eyes wild with frustration and grief.

  He sank to the bed. “Let me try.”

  Her lower lip wobbled, but she nodded and rose, standing near the bed.

  Jarrett gathered the child into his arms and began to sing a lullaby in French he’d learned from babysitting one of his teammates’s kids. At first Fleur stiffened and kept sobbing high-pitched cries like a frightened bird. And then as he kept singing and rubbing her back, she gradually relaxed.

  Finally, he felt her little body grow slack and her breathing even.

  He laid her gently back into the bed. Lacey tucked the covers around her. Tears glistened in her eyes as she studied her daughter.

  For a full moment he looked at her, mother and child. The pain in his chest trebled. This should have been them. Both of them, sitting on their daughter’s bed, soothing away the bad dreams, reassuring her that the bogeyman didn’t live in the closet or under the bed. Singing to her songs that made her eyes close and the bad things go away.

  But he knew from hard experiences that the bad things didn’t go away so easily. And though children were resilient, no child should ever have to experience the horrors Fleur had.

  Finally, he drew Lacey aside. They left the bedroom and she cracked the door open.

  “Thank you, Jarrett. That’s the first time she’s fallen asleep that quickly after a nightmare.” Lacey’s face tightened. “Usually it takes warm milk and lots of hugs, and even then...”

  She turned and fled into the kitchen.

  At the sink she braced her hands on the counter. “I try so hard, but some days I feel so damn overwhelmed. This place, the work, and all the attention Fleur needs. I’d give anything to make her feel normal again. To have a normal childhood. I love her so much, and she’s starting to respond...it hurts to see the terror in her eyes, know she could have been her father’s next victim...”

  Jarrett said nothing. He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly against his chest. Stroking her hair, he rested his chin atop her head.

  Lacey pulled away, and he inwardly swore. It felt so good, so right, to have her in his arms again. All those times after returning home from missions, he’d turned to her in bed and the release he’d found in sex had pushed the haunting images back a little further. Connection. Bonding. He found release in sex, and she found it in talk.

  “Get some rest,” he told her gently.

  Jarrett watched as she climbed the stairs. He rubbed his tight chest and went outside to check the perimeter one last time. He’d find a way to bring Lacey and her little girl home.

  * * *

  In the morning he woke before dawn, jogging around the complex and scanning for new threats. Usually he loved this time of day, before the world awoke and the sky was leaden and gray. He found solace in running, listening to the sound of his lungs working hard, his feet slapping against the ground. Always he’d pushed himself harder and harder.

  Maybe he should have pushed
himself harder with Lace, too. He’d had a restless night, knowing she slept only footfalls away in the next room. His arms itched to hold her close once more.

  Man, those were the things he’d missed the most after returning home after an op. Sex, yeah, the sex was mind-blowing, but he missed cuddling, one arm secured around her waist, listening to her breathe, feeling her warm, soft skin against his naked body. Curling up next to a pillow didn’t cut it. It was Lacey, holding her close next to him, listening to her soft breaths as she slept, that fueled his purpose each time he went downrange on an op. He’d keep that memory close as he had to sleep at night in the field, remembering the reason why he fought to keep his country safe.

  By the time he returned to the house from his run, showered and dressed and sent a few emails from his laptop, there was movement in the kitchen and the smells of frying bacon and peppers. Jarrett rubbed a hand over his clean-shaven face and grinned, knowing he would never eat another pepper without remembering the taste of Lacey beneath his tongue.

  Fleur sat at the table, eating spaghetti. He joined her and poked at the bowl. “You like this stuff for breakfast?” he asked in French.

  At her nod, he wrinkled his nose. “Looks like worms. Yuck. How can you eat that big, messy bowl of worms?”

  She giggled. “It’s paghetti,” she said in English.

  Surprised at her use of English, he tilted his head. “Spaghetti,” he corrected.

  Jarrett poured himself coffee and thanked Rose as she set a plate of eggs scrambled with bacon and peppers before him. As he dug into it, Lacey appeared in the doorway.

  “I overslept. Why didn’t anyone wake me up?”

  He didn’t reply. Too busy staring. Her blond hair rumpled, her eyes still dazed from sleep, she wore a gray sleep shirt and pink pajama bottoms. For a moment he stepped back into time, remembering those mornings when she’d rise like this, her hair tangled, her face smudged with sleep, her nightwear rumpled. And he’d think how beautiful she was, and how damn lucky he was because she was his.