“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.

“We just met, Hunt. I don’t even know you,” she said, as more of a reminder to herself than anything.

“I’m an open book,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, and Carly thought about asking him to reveal one of his fantasies, so that they’d be on a level playing field. “It’s not like we had a date or anything,” she continued, realizing he didn’t need any more ammunition than what he already had on her. He didn’t seem the type who’d have any problem spilling his fantasies. Fantasies involving his removing that T-shirt and letting her check out what she was sure was the best chest she’d ever seen, which probably had a light dusting of blond hair leading down to his…

“You don’t seem like a woman who’d get caught up in conventions. And I am invited to the wedding.” He grinned, and she wondered if this man could indeed read minds.

Carly narrowed her eyes. “And what’s in this for you?”

“I already told you. I want to know how the fantasy ends.” Hunt moved closer, and she wanted to walk away, to tell him to go right out her front door and not come back, but she couldn’t. Her feet remained rooted in place as he stood inches from her, and tension crackled the air between them.

What was in that coconut cake? Aphrodisiac therapy. Coconut covered SEAL.

She needed to get a grip.

But the memory of what she’d written was almost too much to bear, and the thought of putting it to practice, and putting Hunt to the test, was making her hot.

His scent reminded her of the beach in the early morning, so full of promise, hinting of sunshine and ideal waves. It was her favorite smell and a longing echoed inside of her. It would be so easy to kiss him, to make her fantasy come true. There was nothing stopping her from stripping off her clothes and having Hunt press his body against hers, letting him take her against the couch, or on the floor, or anywhere else he wanted to.

It would be the easiest thing.

He remained close to her, his lips parted in a seductive smile before he spoke. “Are you going to tell me how it ends? Or do you want me to show you first how I’d finish it?”

HE DIDN’T WAIT TO HEAR her answer before he brought his mouth down on hers. It was a slow, warm kiss that threatened to turn into something molten. Hunt’s hands were in her hair. Carly’s hands were fisted against his chest, unsure if they were there to pull him closer or push him away.

She had an open invitation to show him how she’d end it, any way she wanted. Who could pass that up?

Choosing the road less taken, Carly knew she’d regret it one way or another. She pulled back, breaking the kiss without finesse.

His smile was wider than it had been before. His green eyes slightly more golden, and his thick blond hair begged for her to thread her hands in it. She knew taking him to bed was the only right thing to do. “I think you need to leave, Hunt,” she said.

“I don’t think you mean that.”

Of course she didn’t, but it had taken every ounce of strength to stop and still have a coherent thought. He tasted like coconut. He tasted delicious and he kissed her the way someone who knew how to kiss should. He should teach courses in kissing, because that’s how good it was. Over the falls paled in comparison.

She didn’t need any more distractions.

He stepped back and released her, but made no move to leave. “So tell me again why a professional surfer girl is faxing erotic fantasies to strangers.”

“Former pro surfer girl,” she corrected. “And I told you. I was helping out a friend.”

“Right, a friend. So where did this idea for the fax come from, anyway?”

She thought for a second about not telling him, and then figured he might as well know the whole truth rather than continue thinking she was plain crazy.

Carly dug out the magazine from the pile next to her couch and handed it to him. He read for a minute in silence and she got a chance to stare at him a little more. Because there was something about this man in uniform that made her tingle.

“So you needed to spice up your sex life?” he asked finally.

“I told you, it wasn’t for me. My friend needed to spice up hers. I was giving her a start with the fantasy.”

“And how did things work out for your friend?”

“I’ll find out in the morning,” she said, smiling.

“Candy Valentine’s a good name, but it sounds like a stripper. Is that part of your fantasy?”

“I’m sure it’s part of yours.”

“Oh, yeah. That would work.” He eyed the matching decorative columns that ran, floor to ceiling, in her living room.

Oh boy.

“These are really cool,” he said. He’d moved into an alcove, scanning the pictures she’d hung there. Most of them were photos of her having just come off a ride, and a few boasted her on the covers of some surfing magazines, one of them a national publication. She’d debated not hanging them up at all, but hoped having that daily public reminder would inspire her to get better. Fixed. Something.

Seeing a therapist was the next step. She didn’t want it to have to come to that. Admitting the problem had been hard enough.

Admitting the problem to her parents was something she didn’t plan on doing, period. And really, she could easily back out of her mother’s upcoming charity event by citing pain. There were plenty of other surfers and body boarders participating. Some recognizable names were giving their time to raise money for spinal cord injury research. But she’d booked herself as one of the attractions because her pride wouldn’t let her do otherwise. She still held out more than a spark of hope that she could give an impromptu, two-minute ride on a longboard, and influence some girl the way she’d been influenced so many years ago. And now, two weeks and counting, she couldn’t make it mid-beach, never mind into the water. She had her strength back, and enough flexibility to let her give a decent ride.

“Where’d you learn to surf?” Hunt asked, pulling her from her reverie. She realized she been fisting her hands so tightly that her nails had left marks in her palms. She straightened her hands and rubbed them against each other as she spoke.

“I grew up hanging around on the beach,” she replied. “It was the thing to do.”

A charity event her mother dragged her to. She remembered being hot and itchy in the stupid dress she’d been forced into. Aged ten, and already more trouble than her parents cared to handle. She’d wandered off after the event, which was some kind of Save Our Oceans campaign, and she’d happened upon a woman who stood by the water’s edge carrying a surfboard.

All the surfers Carly had seen in her life up till that point had been men, and she’d been curious. The woman took off in the water, paddled out and caught a ride. It left Carly fascinated. The next day, she’d begged her dad for surfing lessons and he’d agreed.

“And you made a career out of it,” Hunt said.

“I did. Pretty cool to make a living doing something you love.” She couldn’t help but smile as she remembered how awesome it was.

“So what are you going to do now that you’ve retired? It has to be something that lets you get your kicks because I can’t imagine you driving a desk.” Instead of thinking about his words, she wanted to rub her cheek against the slight rough on his face and let it tickle her. “More dessert?” she asked. She didn’t wait for his response before grabbing his plate and heading for the kitchen.

CARLY RETURNED A FEW minutes later with what looked like half the cake. He’d stretched out on her couch again, planned on getting, and staying, comfortable, then smiled as he took the plate from her. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

“So, we were talking about what you’re planning now, career-wise.” he said.

“Right. Well, what are you going to do when you leave the SEALs?” she asked finally, and he caught more than a hint of defensiveness in her tone.

Yeah, it was more than a touchy subject for her.

Her body posture changed, tensed up, almost the way it had when her parents mentioned her career. Too many people had asked her that question and she didn’t have a sure-fire answer yet. He was almost sorry he’d brought it up. But he lived by instinct and something told him there was more to her retirement than met the eye, scars or no scars. Every professional athlete had their share of those, and he wondered if they had anything to do with her bowing out early.

“Hadn’t thought about it much, since I don’t have plans to leave the military anytime soon.”

“I didn’t have plans, either,” she said quietly. Too quietly.

“Sometimes plans aren’t always the answer.”

She nodded and then seemed to realize she’d given away more than she’d wanted to. “This has been an interesting night, but—”

“But it’s not over yet,” he said. “Let’s take a walk on the beach. It’s a perfect way to end our date.

She hesitated long enough for him to know something wasn’t right. It had nothing to do with her wanting him out of there. She didn’t want him gone; her body was giving off all the wrong signals.

He knew when a body turned traitor, and besides that, Carly Winters didn’t have a poker face. And she hadn’t even bitten on the date comment.

“I’m kind of tired,” she said.

“It’s only eight o’clock.”

“I’ve got an early day ahead of me.”

“More faxing?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Fine. A quick walk.” She slid the glass door open and they stepped out onto her portico and headed to the dunes just beyond.

All the stars were out. A beautiful, calm evening, a sight he always looked for when he was on a mission and one he rarely got. He stopped and stared up, drew in a deep breath of sea air before continuing on.

Carly had walked ahead of him, and he watched her outline, silhouetted in the moonlight. She moved easily, with the grace of someone who had a natural athletic ability, and he wondered if he’d get the chance to see her surf anytime soon. Or naked. With or without the surfboard.

Now that would be a fantasy come true.

“Are you coming?” she asked.

He bit his tongue and caught up to her with a few easy strides. They walked in silence for several seconds, until they hit the dunes. He jumped over into the soft sand that led to the surf, where high tide had crested, but she remained behind.

“I’m going back,” she told him.

“We just got here. And it looks like the night for a swim.”

“I’m not wearing my bathing suit.” She crossed her arms in front of her and looked anything but comfortable.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never skinny-dipped.”

“I’ll leave that one to your imagination,” she said. “And now you’re staring.”

“Not staring—imagining.”

That got a slight smile from her and yeah, he liked that smile.

“Have you gotten your fill yet?” she asked, even as his eyes lingered on her legs and continued upward, traveling slowly until his gaze met hers.

“Not by a long shot.”

“Hunt, look…”

“I’m going in,” he called out before she could start talking about heading for the house again. He threw his T-shirt toward her and quickly shed his pants. Modesty in the military wasn’t possible, and getting naked was something he’d never been much shy about anyway. “Watch my back.”

He broke into a swift run as he got closer to the edge of the surf, and once his feet hit the water he moved faster until he could dive into the dark waves and roll with the undertow. Night swimming had always been his favorite, even as a kid growing up along the beach. The sound of the rushing water wasn’t drowned out by a noisy, touristy beach crowd, and the thrill of doing something he wasn’t supposed to only added to the pleasure.

Funny, he’d have bet money a surfer would feel the same way, but Carly was no closer to joining him than she was at the start. If anything, it looked as though she’d backed away from the dunes, but she was still watching him.

Yes, there was a lot more he wanted to find out about that.

CARLY WANTED NOTHING more than to strip and run into those dark waves with him. Her muscles ached for it, but her mind wouldn’t give in. Before the accident ten months ago, she wouldn’t have given his offer a second thought, probably would’ve been the one suggesting the skinny-dip.

She was no fun anymore.

And when she lost sight of Hunt for a second after a crashing wave broke over him, she held her breath until he resurfaced.

Damn. She hated this, hated herself for being so scared. She held on to Hunt’s T-shirt in one hand, picked up his pants with the other and shook the sand from them while he frolicked in the water. There was no underwear to be found, and she guessed the term going commando was indeed coined by the military for a reason.

How did she get involved in all of this?

Right, the movie thing. The I’m-dating-someone-already excuse. The Candy Valentine fantasy.

She would have a lot more fun if she brought along Hunt. The parties she was expected to attend would be boring and stuffy and Hunt could do his magic hypnotizing act on the whole lot of them. He’d probably be a big hit, but had he actually agreed to help her?

He ran back up the sand and stopped in front of her. Salt water dripped off his body which, even with only the moonlight to see by, looked better than anything she’d ever seen in a gym or on a surfer.

Her hands fisted at her sides, nails biting palms again until he let a lazy half smile tug at his mouth. He was standing so close, so naked, daring her to do something, anything. She thought about the way he’d swum out, how powerful his body looked cutting through the moonlit waves.

She wanted some of that power for her own, needed to release the tension that was making her body ache. And her fantasy was standing right there.

She reached out, touched his shoulder, wanting to feel the water on her before it possibly brought on another panic attack. But somehow the combination of Hunt and the sea wasn’t scary, at least not with his broad shoulders blocking her view of the waves.

Not scary at all, especially when she used some positive visualization. And at that moment, she was pretty positive about what she wanted.

She leaned into him, and his hands went around her waist, pulled her against him, and she tasted the salt water on his lips, lost herself in his mouth. Her hands tugged at his wet hair while her body molded to his. She wondered why she’d protested earlier. The kiss was warm and tender and she almost forgot to breathe.

She didn’t plan on stopping anything, wanted him to put his hands on her, all over her, to make her forget surfing and the wedding and everything except his touch.

As if he understood, his hands went under her tank top. He caressed her back, then drifted leisurely over the curve of her breasts as if he had all the time in the world.

So strong and so right. Her nipple swelled against his palm.

“I bet this is how you like it, Carly,” he whispered, running his tongue along the sensitive, outer rim of her ear, leaving a trail of salt water along her shoulder. Hunt captured her lobe in his teeth, nipping while he brushed a thumb over one nipple and then the other with just enough pressure to make her press into it. “You want more, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she murmured, knowing he’d managed to hypnotize her, too. Knowing she wanted his mouth on her breasts and anywhere else he deemed to kiss her.

He pushed her back and put his mouth over one nipple, which was still covered in the lacy fabric of her bra. He flicked the bud with his tongue. Her breath quickened, and she longed for his tongue rasping her nipple without the barrier.

Impatiently, she pushed him back, tugged her tank top over her head, and he was on her again, unhooking her bra and working a nipple with his tongue.

The strength of his arm around her waist was the only thing holding her up. He was so close, and still, she wanted him closer.

“Hunt, yes,” she moaned as he worked the bud in tandem with the hand he’d slid down her shorts. When his fingers slid inside her thong and touched her, she jumped. He chuckled against her breast, worked a finger into her center.

She was ready, so ready for him, and moved against the beat of his hand while he used his arm to steady her. His wasn’t letting her nipple go, continued to tug it gently between his teeth, roll it and lick it until she was sure the neighbors would hear her cries above the pounding surf. The need that burned her belly began to tighten–when need met want and urgency couldn’t be contained anymore.

“Let go, baby,” he whispered against her breast before putting his tongue back to work. She buried her face into his neck, held his shoulders for dear life as the orgasm rocked through her, pulsated against his hand.

When she opened her eyes, she found him watching her, until he slid down on his knees in front of her.

Just like the fantasy.

Hunt pushed her thighs apart, then held her hips and brought his face to her belly. He ran his tongue over her skin, making her shiver. And then he looked up. With that lazy half smile he jolted her already-on-edge nerve endings. Her breath went taut.

And then he got to his feet as disappointment washed over her from head to toe.

“We’d better put some clothes on before your neighbors decide to take a nightly stroll of their own,” he suggested.

What had she been thinking? This part of the beach behind her house was secluded, yes, but not private, and several other houses dotted the shoreline and shared the same patch of sand. Anyone could’ve walked by. Granted, she and Hunt had been more than hidden behind the dune and the tall sea grass, but she was half naked and he was much, much more than that.

“What about you?” she asked, and watched as he pulled his pants on after he’d helped her with her tank top. She stuffed her bra in the pocket of her shorts.

“I’ll live,” he said. “Besides, it wasn’t my fantasy, although it was pretty close.”

They walked back toward Carly’s house. He caught her hand in his, leading her to the portico and the sliding glass door. She was sure he was going to invite himself in. Better yet, he’d pick her up and carry her inside, up the stairs and into her bedroom.

Hunt’s eyes met hers and he smiled. He kissed her again before he sauntered off around the side of her house. After a minute’s pause, she heard the engine of the bike–a sound that rumbled through her the way he had, and then it shot away into the distance. No man had that kind of self control.

Obviously, Hunt had, that and a lot more self-restraint than the average man. From what she’d seen, there was nothing about him that could be deemed average.

She wasn’t sure if she would see him again, but at least he’d gotten her over the dunes. Literally.

Somehow, even though he had control of the fantasy, she had a sinking feeling the ball had been left in her court. It was sink or swim time for Carly, and she couldn’t even get in the water.

She wandered along to the kitchen, a strange combination of utter relief and pent-up energy flowing through her. She thought about calling Sam, and even as her hand reached for the receiver, she remembered that her friend was supposed to be living out her own adventure tonight.

They’d certainly have a lot to discuss, come morning.

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