Sexy SEAL Box Set: A SEAL's Seduction / A SEAL's Surrender / A SEAL's Salvation / A SEAL's Kiss

He hadn’t let her thank him. Because they’d be overheard, or because he wasn’t comfortable with the praise, she didn’t know. But he’d saved her. Saved her life. Saved her virtue. And quite likely saved her sanity.

He was a hero. She watched him as he stood between her and the oncoming rescue vehicle, rifle at the ready. Even though he’d talked to them himself, he wouldn’t take a chance with her safety until he was sure it was U.S. military in that snow-tank thing.

Everything he’d done suddenly crashed over her. All because he was a soldier. A SEAL. A hero. How could she take issue with that when it was because of all those things that she was alive? How could she ever wish him to do anything else when he was so fabulously talented at being a SEAL? As long as there were freaks and lunatics and evil in the world, men like Blake stood against them. Kept the rest of the world safe, just as he was keeping her safe now.

She wanted to thank him again. To tell him how much he meant to her, how much she appreciated what he did. And how wrong she’d been to reject him based on his job.

She wanted a chance.

A chance for them.

But now it was too late.

As if mocking the timing of her realization, the Snow Trac grumbled to a loud, whining stop twenty feet away. The lights flashed. Code, she realized as Blake lowered his weapon.

“Your chariot,” he told her, gesturing to the vehicle.

Everything she wanted to say was bottled up inside her like a shook-up soda. All intense and mixed up and ready to burst. She wanted to tell him so many things.

But she’d had her chance.

As she’d done so many times in the last day, she hooked her fingers in his belt and put her feet into the indentions he made in the snow.

They reached the vehicle and he gestured her to come around. Two soldiers stood on either side of the open door, both with rifles at the ready. Covering them, she realized with a nervous shiver.

“Be safe,” Blake said as she moved toward the steps.

“What?” She turned back, shaking her head.

“Aren’t you coming?” He had to be. She had so many things to say to him. So much to try to work out. “You’re not staying here, are you?”

“I’m meeting my team back at the compound for cleanup,” he said, sounding as official as if he’d been delivering a report to a superior. Or talking to a stranger.

Despite their audience, not caring how it was perceived, Alexia reached out one gloved hand. Before she could figure out what to say, how to say it, a familiar voice harrumphed.

“Well done, Landon. Now, move on to phase cleanup.”

Ice formed along Alexia’s spine. She felt like one wrong move and she’d crack into tiny pieces.

Suddenly as cold as she’d been in that tiny cell, she turned to face the man in the doorway of the Snow Trac. Like her and Blake and the rest of the soldiers, he was dressed in white camouflage, a helmet, mask and goggles obscuring his features. No matter, she’d know him anywhere.

“Father,” she greeted quietly. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

“Let’s go.” That’s all he said. No greeting. No explanation. Just an order.

Heart heavy, Alexia looked back at Blake. His lack of reaction told her that he wasn’t surprised to see the admiral. He’d known he’d be there. And he hadn’t warned her.

If he’d held up a sign that said Not Interested, the message couldn’t have been clearer.

Shaking, her knees so wobbly that only pride allowed her to manage the steps into the vehicle, Alexia suddenly wanted to be gone. And she never, ever wanted to see snow again.

“Lieutenant,” she said, looking over her shoulder to give Blake a nod to acknowledge all he’d done. Including breaking her heart. “Thank you.”

* * *

“YOU SURE YOU DON’T WANT some chocolate cake? Or maybe ice cream? I can run out and get fresh strawberries to go with it.”

It took all her strength for Alexia to pull her gaze from the view of her parents’ garden. The entire time she’d been doing her hostage routine, as her brother had termed it once he’d stopped crying, she’d fantasized about her own bed. Yet three days after she’d climbed into that Snow Trac and rolled out of hell, she still hadn’t made it there.

At first, it was easier to stay here. Her father’s connections and pull had meant the debriefing team and the navy psychologist made house calls. The admiral’s gruff attitude had meant that Edward, filled with guilt that she’d been kidnapped for research he’d instigated, kept his exhausting visits to a minimum. And her mother’s newly found nurturing streak—and her chef—had meant that Alexia was pampered beyond belief. Margaret had even called in her beauty team and a masseuse that morning to give her daughter some much-needed pampering.

“I’m okay,” she told her worried-looking mother. She’d never realized Margaret had the hovering gene, but for the last couple of days it’d been out in megaforce. “I’m still full from lunch.”

“Lunch was four hours ago. You’re not eating enough.”

“I was only gone five days, Mother. Not nearly enough time to lose weight and need constant feeding,” Alexia said with a teasing look. She patted the belly of her jeans to show it still wasn’t flat.

Her smile faded as her mother’s face crumpled. And not, Alexia knew, because she was horrified at her daughter’s curves.

“Don’t,” she begged, sliding from the bench seat and wrapping her arms around her mother. “Please. You keep crying and I’m going to need a transfusion. You know I’m a sympathy weeper.”

“I was scared,” Margaret admitted. “I’ve never been scared like that before.” Her fingers clutched her daughter for just a second before she sniffed, stepped back and carefully dabbed the dampness from under her eyes.

Alexia dropped back to the window seat and stared in shock.

“You were scared?” But she’d seemed so calm when she’d welcomed Alexia home. Margaret had gotten a little weird, with the hovering and all. But Alexia hadn’t realized that was fear.

“What do you think?” Margaret snapped. “My daughter, kidnapped by a lunatic. Hauled off to some icy hellhole. We didn’t know who, or why. And when we did, it was even worse.”

She paused to take a deep breath, then continued. “I was terrified. Your father was, too, although he tried not to show it. He called in every marker he had, Alexia. He handpicked the SEAL team, he demanded the best to rescue you. Even then, we had no idea...”

Her words trailed off, and she sniffed, but held her hand out to say she was getting control of herself. So Alexia stayed seated. Truthfully, she was too surprised at the idea of her father worrying to have the strength to stand.

“Michael and I waited here, of course. But your father refused to. He insisted on going to Alaska to get you. He even yelled at Daniel Lane.”

“He yelled at the rear admiral?”

Reeling a little and not sure how to deal with it, Alexia absently patted the cushion next to her. To her surprise, her mother took the invitation and sat.

“As I said,” Margaret told her with a quick, uncomfortable pat to the knee, “I’ve never been so scared.”

“You must have been, though. I mean, Father served his entire career in the military. He fought in two wars. How was that not scary?”

Heck, just thinking of Blake doing cleanup at that nasty compound gave her chest palpitations.

“Because that was his job,” Margaret said with a flick of her bejeweled wrist, as if dismissing the question as ridiculous. Alexia waited to feel slighted, stupid, as she would have so often in the past when her curiosity was rebuffed. But her mother didn’t seem to be closing the dialogue. Just responding.

“It’s that easy? Because it’s his job, you weren’t afraid?”