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My grandfather fought his way into this country, hoping for the promise of freedom. I do what I do to keep that promise alive.
There was a lot more to U.S. Navy SEAL Dante Raske than his mouth and his biceps. And she couldn’t deny that she wanted to learn more.
“Thank you for standing in for Jared today,” she said as she opened her car door and set one foot on the pavement. “And you don’t need to apologize for getting carried away. To be honest, I did to. That was the best kiss I’ve ever had. But I wouldn’t expect anything less from a Navy SEAL.”
She quickly stepped out of the car and closed the door behind her. She needed to get inside before she did something stupid and added Want to get carried away again tonight? After my show…
She heard footsteps, and a second later he was at her side. She glanced at him and saw the heat in his dark eyes.
“I strive for perfection.” He kept his gaze locked with hers. “And not just when it comes to kissing.”
Her lips parted, and she stopped in the center of the hotel lobby. “I need to get ready for my show,” she said, her voice so low because she didn’t quite trust herself not to scream Take me now! Take me here! “But, I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. SEAL.”
Chapter Five
Chrissie closed her eyes and pictured her brother—at five, at fifteen, at twenty-five, and at his funeral. She put her heart and soul into every performance. But tonight, she sang How Do I Remember You? for the SEAL standing on the sidelines. She let the memories of her brother wash over her. She shed tears, allowing them to fall onto her guitar. Because she wanted the man who’d kissed like a Vegas god to know that what he’d said earlier in the car—that her brother had died for a promise of freedom that so many took for granted—those words meant more to her than every dollar she’d earned from her number one hit.
And because I can’t risk revisiting his kisses while I’m on this stage—especially not while I’m performing this number.
She hadn’t written these lyrics to become famous. She’d needed an outlet. A way to express her grief.
“Thank you,” she said into the wireless microphone at the end of the number. The Las Vegas crowd roared its approval. “That song means a lot to me. Thank you for letting me share it with you.”
The audience continued to clap and cheer. Chrissie turned and glanced offstage. And spotted a redheaded SEAL wearing a black T-shirt and camo print pants that would never help him hide in Sin City standing by the sound console.
Where’s Dante?
But her band started the next song on the playlist. She forced her attention back to the stage. She was only a couple of numbers into her two-hour show. She needed to stay focused and give everything she had to her fans. They’d spent their hard-earned dollars on these tickets.
But after the show?
I’ll find him.
When she did, she wanted to return to that moment in the canyon when he’d kissed her. It had felt real. Aside from the heart behind her lyrics, nothing else seemed solid these days. And all of it, from her family to her label, required something from her.
Tonight, I want something for myself. I don’t want to sing about sex and lust. I want to experience it. I want to find out how he delivers on his promise of perfection.
She wanted one night with her very own Navy SEAL before she sent him back to California to focus on the job he loved. She’d mulled the idea over and over while preparing for tonight’s show. She couldn’t afford to fall for him. But she wasn’t a misguided Juliet who’d tumble into love after a perfect orgasm delivered by an all-American Hero…
Sure, it complicated things that Dante seemed to comprehend her passion and her drive in a way she suspected Romeo had never understood Juliet. But she was a grown woman, not a teenager. She could have a one-night stand without falling in love, especially because she knew he was leaving.
He didn’t belong in Sin City, protecting her from a nonexistent threat. He should be training, working on his knee, and getting ready to fight for freedom.
After they explored what would happen when he kissed her off-camera.
Two hours later, Chrissie stepped off the stage and marched over to her bodyguard. “Where’s Dante?” she demanded.
“He’s resting, ma’am.”
Her brow furrowed. “Is he okay? Did he reinjure his knee on the video shoot?”
“Nah, I think he’s coming to terms with the fact that the guys on the teams are going to give him hell for starring in a music video.”
Oh no, she hadn’t thought about how his teammates would handle the news of Dante’s performance in the shoot.
“I hope I didn’t get him into trouble with the Navy.”
