Hot SEAL (8 page)

“Look,” Matt said, “I need a HOT operator out there, not two DEA agents who’ve never done this kind of mission before. It’s Ivy and someone from HOT, though I don’t much care who at this point—unless two of you fuckers want to pretend to be a gay couple. We can do that too.”

Flash yawned. “All right, all right. I’ll let Viking ogle my ass for the cause. But no cuddling, frogman. Not on a first date anyway.”

Nick “Brandy” Brandon snorted. Fiddler rolled his eyes. Sam “Knight Rider” McKnight chuckled. Ace’s head came up, his eyes flashing at the banter, but Dane had no idea what the fuck that was about. And he didn’t care.

“It’s okay. Ivy and I got this,” Dane said. Because first of all he wasn’t playing gay with Flash, and second he couldn’t stand the thought of someone else with their hands on Ivy. It was simply too much to process—and Matt somehow knew it, the fucker. “Ivy?”

Her mouth tightened. “Yep, got it. Already said so, didn’t I?”

The team talked for another fifteen minutes, and then Matt dismissed them all once the plan was set. Dane and Ivy would go on a date. The rest of the guys would spread out and find the other suspects while Flash and Knight Rider went to the marina to watch for any activity out there. Matt, Big Mac, and Billy “the Kid” Blake—the computer whiz—would stay here to monitor the comm feeds and pass on any information.

Dane walked Ivy back to their bungalow. The path through the resort was lush, planted with tropical foliage and studded with cute little bridges and swans and shit. He supposed it was a romantic place, the kind of spot where couples honeymooned or spent anniversaries.

And yet he kept an eye on the surroundings for danger, especially since the sun was beginning to set and the path was darkening in spots.
 

“You have to forgive Ace,” Ivy said, and Dane glanced at her, surprised.

“Actually, I don’t.”

She sighed. “He’s protective, that’s all. He’s a good guy and he cares. I might have talked a bit too much about why I’m never getting married again.”

“Are you fucking him?”

She stopped and pivoted toward him, her skin mottled with fresh color. “What kind of question is that? And what business is it of yours anyway?”

“It’s the kind of question a man wonders when another man keeps acting like a jealous prick. It’s my business because I’m prepared to jump in front of a bullet for you. I’d like to know if one of those bullets might be Ace’s.”

“Ace has been my partner for two years. And he’d rather fuck you than me. So what do you say now, asshole?”

Dane blinked. “He’s gay?”

Ivy looked angrier than he’d ever seen her. “Is that a problem for you?”

“No. Why would it be?”

He honestly didn’t care who the dude fucked—unless it was Ivy, and then he cared very much for some stupid-ass reason. But now he found himself pretty damn happy that Ace wasn’t Ivy’s lover—and apparently didn’t want to be. He also understood now why Ace had seemed annoyed at the team meeting. The banter was typical guy stuff—but when you
were
gay, maybe that kind of thing hurt in a way.

Ivy huffed out a breath and then turned and started back up the path toward the bungalow. Dane didn’t have to hurry to catch up—his stride was much longer than hers. Her nose was in the air as she walked. When she reached the door, he put an arm up to block her from going inside.

Because of their height difference, his arm went across her chest. Her soft breasts pressed against his skin. She squeaked and took a hasty step back. But not before the feel of her was imprinted on his brain.

“I have to go in first,” he said, trying to be all business.
 

Her face was red but she nodded. Dane pulled his gun and swiped the keycard. Then he went inside and did a sweep of the interior. When he’d determined it was clear, he went back for Ivy.

She was standing against the wall outside, facing the path leading up to the bungalow. He’d bet she had a gun strapped under her dress, against her leg. The thought of cool metal lying against her skin, taking on her heat, made his cock stir with interest.

Ivy hadn’t been in the DEA when they’d been married. Neither of them had carried weapons on a regular basis then. They were different people now. Darker people. People who’d seen a lot of shit and who’d faced death in the line of duty.

It bothered him that Ivy had become the sort of person who faced danger. He’d never pictured that for her, though maybe he should have. She’d always been tough and determined, and she had a keen sense of justice.

“It’s clear,” he said, and she nodded and joined him inside. “Are you armed?”

He needed to know. And maybe he wanted to know because it excited him to think she was wearing a weapon tucked somewhere out of sight.

“Yes.”

He let his gaze skim her body-hugging dress. “I hate to ask where it might be.”

“Then don’t.”

His eyes met hers. There was a flicker of something there—but then it went away and she looked determined. Professional. She opened her purse and lifted a Glock so he could see the grip.

Shit, not what he’d pictured.

Ivy laughed, and it startled him. “Where did you think I’d put it? Between my legs? That would be a bitch to walk around with.”

Yeah, but the thought of a gun there…

“Oh hell, you
were
picturing it, weren’t you? Men.”

Dane held up his hands. “Guilty as charged. I’m shallow that way.”

“You really don’t care that Ace is gay?”

Talk about left field. He’d nearly forgotten Ace Martin as he’d thought about a gun nestled between Ivy’s thighs.

“No, Ivy. I don’t care.”

She lifted her shoulders and shrugged them as if working out a knot. “Some guys do. He’s not in the closet, precisely, but doing what we do… he’s not exactly out of it either.”

“Understood.”

“You aren’t going to say anything to the others?”

“It’s not my place to discuss Ace’s sex life. Even if he thinks it’s his right to comment on you and me and how we fit into this mission.”

Ivy had the grace to look embarrassed. “I might have gotten drunk a couple of times in the past. And I might have spoken at length about my asshole ex-husband and how he’d made it hard to trust other men. It happens.”

Dane felt as though she’d jabbed him in the gut. “It’s not me who made it hard for you to trust men, Ivy. You were already that way when we met.”

Her jaw tightened. “Yes, but you’re the first one I tried to trust. When it didn’t work out… well, let’s just say I’m not too inclined to try again.”

He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her. Stroke her hair and tell her she deserved better than that. But he didn’t have that right.

“Blame me if you need to,” he said softly. “But we both know it takes two to fuck up a relationship.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Ivy sank into the dark rounded booth against the wall and let her gaze slide around the room. The nightclub was a bit more upscale than she’d expected, with chrome and steel fixtures, marble-topped tables, and mirrors placed strategically around the space. The music was modern and couples gyrated out on the floor while waitresses in tight skirts and low-cut tops moved among the tables and took orders.

“Not too many people here,” Ivy said.

“It’s early. Give it two hours and it’ll be packed.”

Ivy let her gaze meet Dane’s. As usual, a spark flared to life in her belly. She was getting really tired of that spark, dammit.

“I really don’t want to be here in two hours.”

He shrugged. “Not sure we have a choice, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby,” she ground out.

Dane gave her that lopsided grin that made her heart skip a beat. Then he reached for her hand. “We’re happy, remember?”

When he lifted her hand and brushed his mouth over her knuckles, she thought she might come right then and there because the sensation of pleasure racing through her was so intense. It was like there was a string between her hand and her clit and every brush of his lips against her skin tugged that string tighter.

Ivy shifted and carefully extracted her hand. “No need to overdo it,” she murmured as she picked up the menu and studied it.

Dane slid into the center of the booth and tugged her over until she was right up against him. Then he put an arm around her, one broad hand resting on her hip, and pretended to look at the menu. Or maybe he
was
looking at the menu. Honest to God, she couldn’t think. Her brain had short-circuited.

“We’re staying at a romantic resort in the Keys, Ivy. We’re supposed to overdo it.” His voice in her ear was a growl that sent a shiver down her spine.

“If I’d thought for two seconds you were going to use this particular assignment as an excuse to put your hands all over me, I’d have told Matt I couldn’t do it.”

Dane leaned back in the booth, his gaze hooded as he studied her. She could feel her pulse pounding recklessly in her throat, and she hoped like hell he couldn’t see it.

But she should have known that was a fruitless wish.

His mouth curled in a smile. “Or maybe that’s why you agreed, Ivy. Maybe you like having my hands on you. You used to.”

“
Used to
being the key phrase here.” Oh, why did she have to sound so breathless when she said it?

He brushed his fingertips along her bare arm, and she shuddered before she could contain the reaction.

“I’m not going to lie to you. I’m hard—and it’s got nothing to do with
used to
.”

Ivy’s breath shortened. “Don’t say things like that, Dane.”

“Why not? Because it makes you wet?”

Ivy closed her eyes. Dear heaven, yes, she was wet. Wet and hot and aching for what she knew this man could give her. But sex had never been their problem—and if she went down that road with him, where would it lead this time? How could it possibly end well?

“How is this helping us do what we came here to do?” she forced out. “We have work to do, and sex isn’t a part of it. Besides, aren’t you just a little bit worried about your career if you start banging random agents on the job?”

Dane’s gaze was serious. “You aren’t a random agent, Ivy. And no, I’m not worried about my career. This—you and me—is different.”

Her pulse thumped. “I’m not sure Mendez would agree. In fact, I bet he’d be pissed as hell if we let something escape our attention because we can’t concentrate on the job.”

“Who said I can’t concentrate?”

A waitress appeared at their table before Ivy could answer. “What can I get for you two?”

She was blond and buxom, and she gave Dane a slow once-over. Ivy found herself wanting to smack the woman with her menu.

“I’ll have a sparkling water with a lemon slice,” Ivy said with annoyance.

“And you, hon?” the woman said to Dane.
 

He grinned, of course. “I’ll have a Dos Equis Amber. We’ll also take an order of those ahi sliders you got, and some truffle fries. Make that two truffle fries. My girl can eat a whole order by herself.”

“Sure thing, hon,” the woman said before giving him a wink and turning on her heel.

“Two orders of truffle fries? How do you know I even like such a beast?”

“I don’t. But you used to eat all my fries—or did you forget?”

Ivy’s cheeks heated. “I didn’t forget. But I used to have the metabolism to burn them off. No more. You’re wasting your money.”

“They’re fries, Ivy. If you don’t eat them, I think I can take the hit to my wallet.”

He made her want to laugh, but she was determined not to.
 

“Why are you drinking? We’re supposed to be observing.”

He reached up and caught a lock of her hair in his fingers. Then he twirled it around his index finger while giving her a sexy look that made her ache.

“I can nurse one beer and observe. If we’re both drinking water and you’re glaring at me like you are right now, we’re not going to fool anyone.”

She looked down at the menu still in her hand and pushed it across the table. He was right, but damn, how was it that he could be so nonchalant about this whole thing? Her belly was doing backflips at his proximity, and her nerve pathways were lit up like a fireworks display on a summer night.

Yet he seemed so cool and untouched. And arrogant. Definitely arrogant with that smirk and knowing gaze.

“What if I didn’t want ahi sliders?”

“Then order something else.”

She sat back against the seat, and he pulled her in close, his arm going around her shoulders. She told herself it was part of their cover, but her heart hammered and her skin sizzled and her brain couldn’t think of anything but satin sheets and naked bodies.

“So was I right?” he asked, his breath hot in her ear.

A shiver slid down her spine. “Right about what?”

The club wasn’t too busy, and she had a clear view to the bar. Their target was supposed to be a bartender, but he hadn’t shown up yet. She studied the people at the bar, the man behind the bar. If she could concentrate on the job, she could get through this.