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After laughter all around, Easy, Dagger, Brawler, and Flash left for their rooms. Twister stayed with him and took one bed over from Shark’s.
“I’m going to take a quick shower,” he said. He got his toiletry bag and grabbed a fresh set of clothes, a Navy T-shirt, a pair of soft cotton shorts, and briefs. He went into Brawler’s room, and said, “Shower?”
“Sure,” Brawler said, laying out all the gear that had been shipped for Beast. The man always took care of that dog first.
He ducked inside the opulent bathroom where the floor and walls were white marble shot through with black, the wood and black marble vanity stocked full with towels. He turned on the water and stepped in, Flash’s remark still stinging.
As a kid, his world was pretty self-enclosed. He’d lost his parents in a car accident when he was two and spent most of his time in foster care. He acted out when he was a teenager, and instead of putting him in juvenile detention, they offered him the military. He chose the Navy and worked hard once he found out about the SEALS. He didn’t share himself easily or reach out. He felt like an outsider and often rejected—he never really understood why. That was until he got to BUD/S and found men like him. Found this team that meant everything to him.
But even though Flash’s comment was completely part of the brotherhood’s ribbing, he had to agree with Flash. What would that ray of sunshine want with him?
2
The moment Shark entered the great room with towering thirty-foot ceilings and a double-sided indoor-outdoor fireplace, he realized he was way underdressed for what looked like a formal dinner.
He gazed at the stately place settings arranged on the fourteen-seat exotic wood table, lavishly decorated with painstaking perfection, three extravagant bouquets of fresh flowers, and lit tapered candles in two matching silver holders flanking each end of the table. Then there was the expensive palm-tree china, cloth napkins that had been folded into a fancy, intricate design, and the delicate crystal glasses.
He wasn’t worried about what silverware to use, and there was plenty of it. He was well-versed in embassy dinner protocol.
The table sat in front of an open patio, the doors slid to one side, exposing the interior to the black slate pool area. To his right, tucked under the upper hallway, which was an open concept, was a grandiose chef’s kitchen with sleek black cabinetry, the uppers with glass doors, and gleaming stainless-steel appliances. To his left was a slate gray L-shaped sofa, chunky wood coffee table, floor to ceiling built-ins, and a state-of-the-art entertainment system.
This place was way above not only his pay grade but his tolerance for protocol. He chafed at most embassy functions where he had to wear a dress uniform. Of course, they had brought them—it was mandatory when being detailed to an embassy. All of the team were in khakis and nice slacks with a mixture of Hawaiian shirts, simple collarless pullovers, and polo shirts.
He stood still, then decided he had time to run upstairs and change.
He wouldn’t have done it for the ambassador and his wife, no, it was Tex he cared about. He would never embarrass his LT, and Tex would expect him to change.
“At ease, sailor,” Maddy’s teasing voice said from his right shoulder. He looked down at her and his lips parted in abject admiration…and barely contained desire. She was dressed in a little tropical breezy number, deep yellow with a tiny white-and-brown floral design. The dress came to mid-thigh with straps that left her warm-toned, smooth shoulders bare.She had on an expensive-looking watch, and a diamond tennis bracelet around the other wrist, a gold chain with a medallion around her neck, and gold hoops in her ears. But what captivated him the most were her eyes, playing with light the way an unsuspecting sunbeam teased through the luster of honey.
She lowered her voice, and he leaned down as she set her hand against his forearm. The feel of it was like a sensual brand. “My mom is a stickler for protocol.” She looked around to check whether she could be overheard, but it was part of her game. “I think she has it tattooed on her butt.” She giggled, and her sassy, conspiracy-hushed voice sent heated ripples from his skin, all the way down to his dick. His chest filled with a kind of feeling he had no idea what to do with as he’d never experienced it before. Was that…wonder? His mouth curved at her joke for his benefit, to put him at ease. What she didn’t know was that one of their mottos was, Get comfortable being uncomfortable. He’d been pushing the boundaries of his comfort zone since BUD/S, hell, since his childhood had thrust him into situations that normal children never had to face. And in his experience, it was outside the comfort zone where the magic really happened. “But my dad is informal when we’re home, so you don’t need to change.”
There was some magic going on here. He didn’t usually attract the attention of flights of fancy, whimsical princesses, or sex kittens with PhDs. He was more hardcore and reticent, especially with women who thought they could change him. He wasn’t one to give away his secrets and had never been enticed by anyone to reveal his deepest self. The one he protected against damage. But this woman was making him get comfortable with being uncomfortable.
“My daughter’s right,” Ambassador Towson said, a bit of easy-going humor lacing his voice. “My wife is dedicated to protecting our diplomatic procedures, but when I’m home, I prefer to be informal. There’s no need to change.”
“Was I that obvious, Mr. Ambassador?”
With a grin tugging the corners of Clay Towson’s mouth, he shrugged in answer. “To be honest, you looked comfortable with being uncomfortable.”
“Good one, sir.” Maddy’s father looked to be in his middle fifties but was still an extremely good-looking man. He could see his excellent bone structure mirrored in Maddy’s face, but her amber eyes came from her mom.
“What does that mean, Daddy?” Maddy asked as she dropped her hand but stayed in his personal bubble. It seemed Maddy had inherited her father’s amicable disposition. Despite her privileged upbringing, she was far from being spoiled or snobbish. That was a compliment to her parents and how they raised her.
“It’s a SEAL motto, kitten. Get comfortable being uncomfortable. Am I right, son?”
It took all his willpower not to smirk or laugh, especially when she gave him that sidelong glance with her inside joke face, well aware of the correlation to his sex kitten remark. But he didn’t want to have to admit to her father’s face that he'd called his daughter a sex kitten. He gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw. She nudged him with a little private smirk of her own.
“Yes, sir,” Shark said.
Mr. Towson wasn’t a dummy. He was well aware something was amiss but was too polished to pry. “So, I suppose your call name is indicative of being lethal in water.”
“It fits, but no. I got that nickname in pool halls.”
“Seriously. That’s great. We have a pool table in the game room. I wouldn’t mind some competition.”
“I wouldn’t challenge him,” Tex said. “He’s very good. No betting, Bale.” Tex eyed his clothes and opened his mouth.
“No, Lieutenant, he’s fine. Leave the man alone,” the ambassador said with ease.
