A SEAL's Secret. Tawny Weber

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A SEAL's Secret - Tawny Weber


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Liv. I’ll help you out of your costume.”

      “What?” Livi shook her head, wondering if that halo was squeezing Tessa’s head too tight. “I’m not taking off my clothes.”

      The words had barely left her mouth when she felt it.

      The air changed.

      Electrified.

      Startled, she looked back at Mitch.

      His calm amusement was gone. Instead, his eyes were intense. Filled with an unmistakable sexual energy that sparked a response so hot and fast Livi swore she had a tiny orgasm then and there.

      “How about a private bet?” he suggested quietly, his smile making it clear he was once again amused by the entire scenario.

      Livi frowned. Was he always so mellow and self-assured? The confidence might be a SEAL thing. His friend had it, too. But where Gabriel came across somewhere between confident and cocky, Mitch was simply sure.

      What was that like?

      Had the man never lost at anything?

      Livi had no idea where the urge came from. She was clueless how the words landed on the tip of her tongue. But before she could stop it, her own challenge tumbled out.

      “You’re on,” she agreed, leaning forward until she was nose to nose with him. For a second she lost her train of thought as his scent, rich and spicy, wrapped around her. His eyes were pure blue, she realized. Not a hint of gray or green. Gorgeous.

      And amused.

      It was the amusement that snapped her back.

      “I’ll double whatever they bet,” she said, tilting her head to indicate Tessa and Gabriel.

      “I’m going to enjoy this,” Mitch promised quietly.

      Livi hoped she did, too.

      Five minutes later, the parameters had been set, enough spectators had realized a challenge was afoot and a crowd was gathering.

      Was she crazy?

      “So you really think you can beat him?” Tessa murmured as she unzipped the foam under Livi’s arm.

      Hell, no.

      “Why are we doing this?” she sidestepped. “Can’t we just have drinks with the guys and flirt?”

      “Flirt?” Tessa’s face curled into a combination of horror, disdain and something else. Something Livi couldn’t read. “You’re kidding, right? We’re not flirting with these guys. We’re beating them then taking our winnings and getting out of here.”

      “I’d rather flirt.”

      Which was saying a lot, since flirting tended to make her feel like she’d just broken out in a rash.

      “The guy is a SEAL.” Tessa said that the same way she’d state that he was a puppy-kicking Peeping Tom with a chicken fetish.

      “So?”

      “So, Pauline would have a cow if she found out. You know how she feels about Navy guys. She’d have a total meltdown, bitch for months and probably book you on a gig in Timbuktu to get you away from him.”

      Livi wrinkled her nose but couldn’t disagree.

      Pauline was Livi’s manager, the driving force behind Livi’s success. She’d managed, maneuvered and manipulated Livi into an enviable career, where she was currently teetering on the edge of fame and fortune.

      Livi didn’t figure any of that gave the woman the right to call the shots on her personal life.

      Pauline was Livi’s mother. The last time Livi had ignored her demands disguised as advice, she’d married Derrick. The price of her mother stepping in to clean up that mess had been a blanket promise to not do anything stupid again.

      Livi inspected Mitch.

      He was hot. He was sexy. He was seriously appealing.

      And he had enough charisma to shut down her brain.

      Did that qualify as stupid?

      Livi felt like Eve standing in an apple orchard. And the hottie with the big S on his chest was the biggest, juiciest, tastiest apple of the bunch. Did she follow the rules?

      Or did she give in to temptation?

      Duh. Like there was a choice.

      “We’ll just make sure Pauline doesn’t find out,” she murmured.

      “No,” Tessa protested. “Have pity. I’m a part of your crew. If you’re shipped off to Timbuktu, I’m stuck there with you.”

      Livi pulled her gaze away from Mitch to give Tessa an arch look.

      “Double dates with Dean Wickens, that drummer guy, Paul who never would admit his last name and those creepy twins,” she recited, ticking each off on her fingers. “Endless clubs, three production parties and my favorite pair of sneakers covered in purple paint.”

      Tessa’s face froze. Her eyes shifted to the corner then she lifted her chin. “What’s all that have to do with Timbuktu?”

      “In every one of those situations, you promised you’d owe me.” Livi inclined her head toward the corner. “I’m calling in your debt.”

      “Dammit.” Tessa huffed and crossed her arms over her chest to glare. When Livi’s expression didn’t change, Tessa rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air. “Fine. I won’t tell Pauline.”

      Livi rounded her brow. Tessa pressed her lips tight and gave a sigh strong enough to knock over a horse.

      “God, you’re demanding. Okay, yes, I’ll stay with you and play backup.” Tessa huffed. “But only for an hour. No double dates.”

      “Works for me,” Livi agreed, almost giddy with excitement. “But just so I know, what’s your problem with Gabriel? I know you don’t go for military guys, but I’ve never seen you get straight-up ugly with one before.”

      “He’s just so unbelievably arrogant, like he’s so sure he’s perfect and knows everyone is just waiting to appreciate him.” The glare she shot across the room made it clear that disagreeing was pointless, so Livi hummed instead. “He’s obviously got a one-track mind. He thinks sex is the be-all and end-all. And who the hell looks that perfect?”

      Scanning from the top of Tessa’s perfectly tousled curls down her perfectly curved body to her perfectly polished toes, Livi could only shake her head.

      “The mind boggles,” was all she could say without bursting into laughter.

      From her narrow-eyed look, Tessa caught the amusement, anyway. She was silent for a moment then shook her head and changed the subject.

      “So, bottom line, can you win?” she asked. “Can you take Mitch?”

      “Yeah,” Livi promised. “I’m taking him.”

      With that, she stepped away. She pulled her arms free and shifted her head through the unzipped foam.

      Her eyes locked on Mitch’s as she stepped out of the costume, her body clad in a pale yellow racer-backed unitard. Maybe Livi had a touch of social anxiety, and she might not have anywhere near Mitch’s confidence. She might have a few insecurities and a whole slew of worries. Throw in a domineering mother, an absentee father, a soul-sucking ex-husband and a ticking time clock on her career, and she had a lot of baggage.

      But what she also had—and she was positive of this—was a rockin’ awesome body. She worked on it every day. She made her living with it.

      And she was going to use it to win this bet.

      * * *

      HOLY HELL, SHE was a Playboy centerfold wrapped in a wet dream mixed with an erotic version of the girl next door.


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