Coming Undone

Camouflage greeted her. A brick wall of camouflage, leaning against her doorjamb with a very serious look on his very good-looking face.

A face she had to look up to see, which, at her own height of five feet, ten inches, meant this man was much taller than that. He was well over six feet and filled out in all the right places.

The army-green T-shirt fit more than fine across his broad chest and shoulders and showed off his sculpted biceps. His dark blond hair was sun-bleached in places, fell across his forehead casually. She was close enough to notice the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes, and a primitive thrill coiled in her belly.

Maybe just thinking about the voodoo doll had worked, because this was more magic than she could’ve hoped for.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Yes, you can.” His voice was husky and unhurried as he leaned in toward her, his arm still resting on the doorjamb. “You want to explain why you’re sending pornographic faxes to a United States Navy SEAL team?”

2

HUNT HADN’T BEEN SURE what to expect from someone named Candy Valentine, but the woman who’d answered the door looked genuinely surprised, which was a good sign. It meant the letter had been faxed by mistake, that she wasn’t some kind of SEAL groupie or, worse, hadn’t been trying to hack the system. In truth, the teams got letters like this one all the time, by mail. But when it came through a secure fax line, it had to be investigated, and he’d been the lucky one pulling office duty at the Mayport Military Base when the fax rolled through the nearest printer.

He was checking in regularly while on partial leave, and he’d never expected to find himself making the hour or so drive down the coast toward Daytona to investigate something like this.

I want you to start by running your tongue slowly around my ear….

Hooyah.

“Who are you?” she asked, keeping her voice low and giving a quick look over her shoulder.

She wasn’t home alone. Married, maybe?

“Lieutenant Jonathan Huntington, United States Navy,” he announced, letting his gaze drop to her hand. No ring and no tan line. “Did you send this fax?” He held the papers up, page one on top so she could read it.

She licked her bottom lip nervously, and then nodded.

Damn, she was sexy.

Let your hand drift down to my breasts….

He’d needed a frozen-cold shower before venturing to find the author. A cursory check through records told him that the owner of the fax line was a woman. He was relieved, but now…

Get down on your knees….

If a fantasy was going to turn him on this much, he sure as hell wanted it to be from someone who looked like her.

A beautiful woman. A woman with tousled blond curls and deep brown eyes and a lithe, athletic-looking body, showcased in a pair of shorts and a tank top.

Spread my thighs….

She had the longest legs he’d ever seen, tanned and slim and finely muscled, and if he wasn’t mistaken there was a shark tattoo on her left ankle.

Make me lose control.

You have been OUTCONUS for too long, Hunt—out of the country and out of the bedroom. This was a hell of a welcome home. It was time for some much needed R & R, and he wondered what this Candy Valentine was up to.

A list of names had been faxed along with the fantasy, some of which read like a who’s who of Florida society. He’d grown up in the area, close enough to know the wealthy by name but not close enough for any of it to rub off on him. And there was an expensive, top-of-the-line Mercedes convertible in her driveway.

Was it possible she was some kind of high-priced call girl?

“This is an extremely serious offense.” He continued to play the hard ass, although now his curiosity was more than piqued. Especially because of the thin, healing scars running vertically along her right thigh and knee. “The military doesn’t look kindly on solicitations of this kind.”

But this letter sure as hell does it for me.

“It…this…wasn’t supposed to be,” she stuttered, and then she stopped and gained her composure. “I’m sorry about the mistake. This was supposed to go to a friend and I obviously faxed it to the wrong number. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“A male friend?”

“Excuse me?”

“You said it was supposed to go to a friend….”

“Oh. No. It was for a female friend.” Her blush was visible through her tan, and she shifted from one bare foot to the other as she crossed her arms. “It’s not what you think.”

“I’m thinking a lot of things right now,” he said.

“I don’t see how the specifics are any of your business. I’ll take those back and you can be on your way.” She reached out for the papers but he pulled them away.

“No can do. It’s official government property.”

“What does the government want with something like that?”

“It’s become part of our records. Any and all unauthorized documents that come through our fax lines have to be investigated and properly recorded.” That wasn’t exactly true. It was also up to his discretion as to whether or not to drop this matter, but watching her defend herself was turning him on almost as much as her words on paper had.

“So there’s going to be a file somewhere in our federal government titled Carly’s Fantasy?” she demanded.

Hell yes, only it’s going to be in my personal file.

“I don’t know who Carly is,” he spoke with a formal tone. “This fax was sent by Candy Valentine.”

Busted. Her mouth dropped for a second, but again, he gave her credit for her quick pick-up. “Carly’s my nickname,” she offered, and then looked angry at herself for giving him that information. The nickname fit her—she looked like a Carly. She looked really, really good, too, and he wondered if it would be against any and all regulations to ask her out on a date, right then and there.

After he did his job and got this mess sorted out, of course. After he found out that she wasn’t a hooker.

“I’d appreciate it if you could tell me how you got ahold of a secure fax number. And why you’re using an alias.”

“It was a mistake. I reversed the last two numbers and I’m not using an alias. And I’d appreciate it if we could let the whole matter go.” She was telling the truth on both counts. He could tell by the way her gaze held his steadily and the way she kept her voice low, so whoever was in the next room couldn’t overhear.

She was a woman with a secret, but she’d already spilled some pretty personal ones on the papers he held in his hand.

“You look familiar,” he said suddenly, and that wasn’t just a pick-up line. “I’ve seen you somewhere before….”

“Well, you haven’t. So if you’ll give me back those pages, I won’t tell anyone about this.”

He could do that. Or he could take this whole thing one step further and risk having her call his superiors.

He was used to tougher risks than this. “So tell me, Carly. Is this one of your fantasies?”

The flush spread again, over her nose and the smattering of freckles. “Are you here to make fun of me or to find out if I’m some kind of terrorist fantasy-writer?”

“I’m not here to make fun of you,” he said.

“Then what are you going to do about this? Are you letting it drop?”

“There are two problems I have to deal with before I can do that.”

“And what would those be?”

“First of all, I need to know how and why you have a list like this, complete with addresses and phone numbers of some of the wealthiest people in Palm Beach.”

“And what’s the second problem?”

He leaned in and smiled. “You didn’t finish the fantasy.”

“Carolyn? What’s going on?” An attractive woman, who looked much younger than she probably was, came up behind Carly and smiled when she saw him. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t realize you had company. Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

THE CHANCES OF A situation like this happening were slim to none.

The chance of you taking that wave is slim to none, Carly, her old coach’s voice echoed in her ear. On that particular day, the odds had been in her favor. The trophy was situated proudly in her office.

It seemed as if her life was full of chances the book-makers wouldn’t dare gamble on. So what was one more?

Oh, this was so not good.

“Mother,” she began, well aware this man could probably read the slight panic that had to be showing on her face.

Said man stepped forward and extended a hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Jonathan Huntington, but you can call me Hunt.”

“Hello, Hunt.” Carly would’ve laughed at the way her mother said the nickname, but she was beyond having fun. “I’m Carolyn’s mother, Sheila Winters.”

Her father came from nowhere and shook Hunt’s hand. “Carl Winters III. You must be related to the West Palm Huntingtons.”

“No, sir.”

“Ah, the New York Huntingtons then. Huntington Oil.”

Again, Hunt shook his head. “I grew up a short distance from here, but my family wasn’t in the oil business.”

This was like living in some alternative universe where things like erotic faxes and sailors and parents ended up together in one place. This was not the planet Earth Carly knew and loved.

“And you’re in the military?” her mother asked, and Carly gave her mental kudos for changing the subject so deftly. Part of the whole white-glove upbringing.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, we’re very patriotic. In fact, I ran a charity auction for our troops last month.”

“We appreciate the support,” he said.

“So, this is the gentleman you were telling us about, Carolyn?” her mother asked.

Just kill me now.

Heck, for all she knew, Hunt could be an axe murderer.

“Um,” she said, looking into Hunt’s eyes and wondering how far he would be willing to go with this ruse. He hadn’t mentioned the fax yet, so maybe she could get through this with some pride intact.

“I guess that’s why my ears were burning. I just got off work and stopped by to see if Carly wanted to catch some dinner,” he said without a trace of hesitation in his voice. He grabbed her hand, his thumb traced her palm and then he brought it to his mouth and kissed it.

Okay. Not an axe murderer, but he was definitely going to kill her if he kept doing things like that.

Samantha was right. It had been way too long for Carly. And she wanted a lot more than dinner. She wanted to sink into the sand, never to be seen again. Then again, a big part of her wouldn’t mind pulling Hunt down with her.

He knew her fantasy, knew how she wanted to be touched and where….

No, he didn’t know anything, she told herself firmly. When her parents left, she’d explain things to this Hunt person. He was in the military, and they must have a code, or some kind of moral obligation that would make him keep his mouth shut and protect her secret.

Why else was he playing along with this dinner thing?

“We’ve finished dinner, but we haven’t had dessert yet. Why don’t you join us?” Sheila Winters asked.

“Dessert sounds great,” Hunt said with obvious enthusiasm. Carly fought a gasp and squeezed his hand instead, since he hadn’t released hers. He took the opportunity to pull her closer and she swore he was hypnotizing her parents, right in front of her.

Granted, it was a trick she’d be more than happy to learn.

“I’ll pour the coffee. Come help me, Carl,” her mother urged with a smile on her face. A smile. Hunt definitely had to have some kind of special superpowers, which didn’t bode well for her.

When her parents were a safe distance away, she whispered, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Apparently, helping you out of a jam,” he said with an innocent shrug. It would have worked, too, except the man was far from innocent. There was something so commanding about his presence that she’d been ready to spill everything, until common sense had taken over.

Hunt was in the military, and all the guys probably gave off that air. Still, she’d known him for less than five minutes and she already knew he was nothing like any man she’d ever met. What were the chances…

“Wait a minute. I thought SEALs were stationed in California and Virginia?”

“We pop up in a lot of unexpected places,” he said.

“I’ll bet you do. And how will you pull this off?” she asked.

“How will we pull this off, is the bigger question? Because your parents think I’m your significant other, and you didn’t tell them I’m not.”

“You went along with it.”

“You seemed a little desperate.”

“Why are you doing this?” Why wasn’t he letting go of her hand?

“I want to know what happens at the end.”

He obviously wasn’t aware that the fantasy was always better than the reality. The problem was that the two had, moments ago, collided head-on, and she was caught inside the wave, while he’d aced her with a total 360, leaving her nowhere to bail.

In a surfer’s world that signaled a potential wipe-out. It was definitely time to kick out of this man’s wave. “You go home, and I have to tell my parents you’re not my boyfriend.” She took her hand back from his and immediately missed the contact.

“I’m nobody’s boyfriend, Carly. But I wasn’t talking about after dessert. I was talking about the end of this fantasy.” Hunt smiled a wide, wicked grin and winked, then he sauntered past her into the house. “I hope you made my favorite, honey,” he said loudly. “Because I’m in the mood for some sugar.”

3

SUGAR HAD BEEN THE first thing on his mind, too. Maybe that could finally put some of the pieces of this puzzle together.

Maybe he could get Carly to reveal more of her fantasy, although he’d finished it off a dozen different ways in his mind already.

It had been a long drive, and the steady hum of the bike vibrating between his legs made the highway one long pre-orgasmic stretch.

Now, he forced himself to tamp down the enthusiastic buzz as he sat across the table from Sheila and Carl Winters. He’d recognized their names immediately when he’d seen them on the list. They were upper high society in the small Vero Beach community, always making the papers for one thing or another.

Carly Winters was one interesting lady even without the fax. And, from the strained look on her face, he had to guess that the erotic fax thing wouldn’t go over well with this set.

How he’d suddenly become the long-lost boyfriend was anybody’s guess.

“So Hunt, are you a Marine?”

He fought the urge to yell, hell no, and instead said calmly, “No, ma’am. I’m a Navy SEAL.”

“Would you mind my asking what a SEAL is?”

He smiled at Sheila Winters, because at least that answer was easy. “We’re part of the Special Operations division. SEAL is an acronym for sea, air and land. Although we’re primarily known for our water ability we can pretty much handle any assignment, regardless of the terrain. We’re Navy and we work in small teams.”

“So you’ve probably traveled all over the world.”

To crapholes you haven’t even dreamed of visiting. “Yes, ma’am, although I can’t say much more than that. All of our missions are classified.”

“Well, is how you and Carly met classified information?” Sheila asked him, a tiny smile on her face. From behind her parents, Carly smirked at him as she brought the coconut cake to the table in the center of the large kitchen.

He raised his eyebrows and she jumped in hurriedly. “At the beach. We met at the beach.”

Safe enough answer. Safer than the truth, and he could work with it.

“Was it at one of her competitions?” Carl Winters asked.

“Oh, Carl, please. Do we have to discuss that? I’m so happy she’s not doing that surfing thing anymore. I was always so worried about her.”

He’d seen two longboards propped up outside the house. And suddenly, he remembered where he’d seen Carly Winters. The local paper had run a lengthy article on her a few months back when he’d been in town for training and when she’d retired her pro-surfing status.

Wow. “Unfortunately, I didn’t get to see her in action,” he said, watching the blush spread across her cheeks again. He could think of a lot better ways to make her blush.

“She had a good career,” Carl said. “I have some old tapes I could lend you that show her competing.”

“That’d be great. From what I hear, she was amazing to watch.”

Carly threw him a strange look, somewhere between appreciation and pain. He pictured her in a bikini, riding the hell out of a wave along the swells of the ocean. Had to be a thing of beauty.

A SEAL and a surfer. There were worse combinations, and this particular one could prove to be a hell of a ride.

“She was a wonderful surfer,” Carl agreed.

Sheila changed the subject with a wave of her hand to her husband. “So, how long have you two been seeing each other?”

“Six months,” Hunt answered, figuring a nice, even number was the way to go. Besides, if he’d guessed wrong, it would be okay. Guys were supposed to screw up stuff like anniversaries and birthdays.

“So you met before she moved back here, then.”

Ah, screwed that one up. Still, he nodded, mind firmly set in interrogation mode. They didn’t need to know he wasn’t permanently stationed around here.

“Yes. He was training in Hawaii,” Carly said. And that made sense. Surfing. Hawaii.

“And you’ve been traveling, Carolyn tells us,” Sheila Winters continued.

Sounds about right…. “Yes. I’ve been overseas, so I’m looking forward to spending more time with Carly.” Where was this stuff coming from? Maybe he had an acting career after his SEAL stint?

“And he’s back just in time for the wedding,” Carly added.

Whoa. Wedding? Hell, he’d do anything for his country, and obviously a lot to help out and help himself to a beautiful stranger, but no how, no way was he getting roped into marriage. Suddenly, the kitchen shrank to the size of a cell and a strong survival urge kicked in. He was telling himself to get out, hit the open road and rock on.

Although the thought of tossing the surfer over his shoulder, before giving her parents the peace out, didn’t seem too bad.

THE WEDDING QUESTION HAD stopped him cold. Nice to know the thought of commitment could bring even a tough-guy, Navy SEAL to his knees.

Carly should’ve let him choke, but she needed him. This had gone too far, and she didn’t want to look like a bigger fool than she already was. “You remember, I told you my sister’s getting married, right?” She gave him a look with a raise of her eyebrows as she slid the plate in front of him. “The wedding’s in two weeks.”

“Right. I must’ve forgotten,” he said, and took a bite of the cake.

“I’m sure you had many other things on your mind while you were away.” Her mother took a demure sip of coffee and pushed her cake away after only a cursory bite.

This was a way for Carly to get her parents off her back. She could show up at the wedding alone, claim a last minute breakup. By then, it would be too late to pair her with Evan, and hopefully, he’d have his own date.

“There’s a party we’re throwing next week, and then there’s the rehearsal dinner, too. I need to tell the chef if we’re expecting another person, you understand,” her mother explained.

This wasn’t happening. There wasn’t enough coconut therapy in the world to help Carly now.

“Yes, I do.” Hunt finished his piece of cake and slung an arm around her shoulders. His closeness was comforting, like a protective shield. “I’m actually on partial duty for the next month, so my schedule’s pretty light.”

And it was getting worse by the second, like a complete train wreck she couldn’t do a thing to stop. Like it was happening in somebody else’s life, not hers, and she’d wake up to find out this was all a strange dream. A strange dream that included a dark blond, green-eyed, handsome man, who made her toes curl every time she looked at him.

She crossed her arms in front of her and he looked at her as if he could read her mind.

Then again, he didn’t need to. She’d written it all out on paper.

“So you’re coming to the wedding, then?” her mother repeated.

“Wouldn’t miss it. I don’t like disappointing Carly,” Hunt said, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

She could imagine what was going through her mother’s mind right now. Organizing a charity event for the military was one thing, but having her eldest daughter bring a Navy SEAL to a family wedding was quite another, especially when said daughter was supposed to have her hand spoken for.

It almost made up for the fact that later on, Carly would have to explain this whole thing to Hunt. She was going to owe him big-time, and she had a sneaking suspicion about what he’d want for payment.

“Sheila, we should go and leave these kids alone. I’m sure they don’t want us hanging around.” Her father stood to leave and Hunt stood as well.

“Please don’t leave on my account.”

“We’ve got a drive ahead of us back to Vero,” her mother said. “We’ll see you both on the sixteenth for the party.”

They’d see her there, but she and Hunt would be long broken up by then, because this was a big mistake. Or maybe they’d be visiting her in a military prison reserved for erotic-fantasy writers. Either way, she was screwed.

She walked her parents to the door.

“Dinner was lovely, Carolyn. And Hunt seems like a very nice young man.” Her mother gave her a quick peck on the cheek and Carly wondered if Hunt had ever been called a very nice young man. “You will have to let Evan know about your change of plans. Perhaps he’ll realize he’s got to work a little harder to get through to you.”

Useless to argue. Obviously, Hunt’s powers of mind control only worked during direct contact. “I’ll talk to Evan. And I’ll see you guys next week.” Carly gave a quick wave as they got into their car and backed out of the driveway.

When she returned she found Hunt comfortably ensconced on her sofa, flipping through a surfing magazine. He’d kicked off his flip-flops, which didn’t look as if they belonged to any official Navy uniform, and his cell phone and beeper were strewn on her coffee table. He’d also cut himself a second piece of coconut cake and poured another cup of coffee. He appeared to be camping out for a while.

Meaning it was time for her to decide how far to take this situation. “Look, I don’t know why you did what you did—”

“Think they bought it?” he interrupted, and she found herself staring at him again. He was so handsome. Quickly, a dozen different fantasies, all involving Hunt and his uniform and a nice hot game of “Yes, ma’am” seemed like a great way to pass the night.

But it was a fantasy that had gotten her into this particular mess to start with. “Yes, they did buy it. Now, I’ll have to think up some excuse as to why you won’t be attending any Winters family functions. What were you thinking?”

“You started it. You were the one who sent me the fantasy.”

“I didn’t send you any fantasy. I told you, it was a mistake.” A giant, horrifically embarrassing mistake.

“I like a woman who knows what she wants.” His voice dropped an octave as his gaze swept over her. “And you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.”

“Are you going to turn that document in?”

“No, I’m not,” he replied, and she breathed a sigh of relief as he handed it to her, along with the guest lists.

“Well, thanks. And thanks for trying to help tonight. I didn’t mean to pull you into this.”

“Looks like you owe me,” he told her, watching her with that I’ve-got-plans-for-you gaze.

“The cake wasn’t enough?”

“Not nearly enough.” He’d abandoned the coffee as he stood, stretched and stared at her appreciatively. On any other guy, it would’ve been obscene. On him, it made her want to take off her clothes. Or better yet, let him take them off. Slowly.