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

She made a sound of agreement, staring out the window again. She’d thought Edward’s only drawback was that he didn’t turn her on. But it looked as if all the communication skills in the world didn’t make a guy a hero.

“Are you staying for dinner?” she asked.

“Are you?”

“Sure. Mother said there would be guests. But you can sit next to me and keep me entertained.”

And distracted. Because all this self-reflection was really messing with her resolve to accept that things were over with Blake.

Of course, resolve or not, it didn’t really matter.

He was the one who wanted nothing to do with her.

14 (#ulink_0d42f019-7c96-51e0-86ff-445ebbd18e16)

BLAKE STOOD AT ATTENTION, waiting for the admiral’s signal.

“At ease,” Pierce said as he moved behind the imposing desk in his home office and sat like a king on his leather throne. “You’re a guest, Landon, relax and have a seat.”

Right.

Blake sat, but he didn’t relax. The venue was a little more informal than headquarters, where he’d had his first debriefing. And he might be the admiral’s dinner guest, but that didn’t change the fact that this was a formal interview.

“You’ve already received official acknowledgment of a job well done,” the admiral said, his fingers steepled in front of his chest as he regarded Blake. The look on his face might have been friendly, but it was hard to tell. Granite didn’t bend well. “I’d like to offer my private, personal appreciation, as well. You got my daughter out, kept her safe and delivered her without harm. Her mother and I are grateful.”

Blake stared. For real? He hadn’t taken the admiral as a gratitude kind of guy.

“Thank you, sir,” he said. Then, knowing he shouldn’t, he still asked, “How is Alexia doing? Has she recovered from her ordeal?”

Meaning the “kidnapping and grueling weather” ordeal. Not the “sex on a cot and subsequent pseudo rejection from him” ordeal. Blake ground his teeth, still not sure if he’d done the right thing. Or more to the point, still not sure he was glad he’d done the right thing.

He missed her. He’d spent eight months missing her, but telling himself she hated him had made it easier to resist the urge to reconnect. Now that he knew she didn’t hate him...? The urge was like a noxious rash, growing and spreading at lightning speed, making him crazy.

“According to the psychologist, she’s processed the trauma in a healthy way and isn’t likely to have long-term issues as a result.” Before Blake could process how stupid that sounded, the admiral continued, “According to her mother, she’s fragile and underfed, but just needs some time and TLC. And if you listen to her brother, who knows her best, she’s stewing over something and needs to go shoe shopping.”

“Shoe shopping?” Blake deadpanned.

“Apparently it’s a cure-all,” the older man said, looking both baffled and embarrassed. Then he pulled his official face back on. “The bottom line is she’s fine. A great deal of the credit for that goes to you.”

“I’d say the credit for that goes directly to Alexia,” Blake shot back without thinking.

And immediately regretted it. The admiral got a wily, weighing sort of look in his eyes. Then he nodded as if Blake had just made some grand confession.

“I’m going to step outside of protocol for a moment,” Pierce said, folding his hands on his desk. He leaned forward, his face creasing in a granitelike smile. “I’d like to talk to you, not as your commanding officer, but man-to-man.”

Blake’s brows arched. Technically, since he was retired, the admiral wasn’t still his commanding officer. Technically. Still, it was the man-to-man part that was worrying.

“You and my daughter have...”

Oh, shit. Have what? Had inappropriate relations? Had a hundred or so mutual orgasms? Had enough emotional intensity between them to fuel a soap opera?

“You have a lot in common. You’re both young and single.”

Blake waited. Was that all Pierce had? Or did he simply not know enough about his daughter to make a list. Blake could. They liked the same music and laughed at the same jokes. They both liked the beach and hated being cold. They were communications specialists who specialized in avoiding communication. They had a sexual chemistry that could blow up both their worlds, and a mutual love for chocolate.

“You’re both intense, focused individuals with strong ethics and career goals,” the admiral finally said, a hint of triumph in his tone. Yep, the old guy really knew what young single people were looking for in each other.

“Sir, are you trying to set me up with Alexia?”

After she’d reacted so well to it the last time?

“Set up is such a juvenile term. Let’s just say I’d be amenable to the idea of you and my daughter building a relationship together.”

In all his consideration of whether a relationship with Alexia was a good idea or not, in all his continual recounting of the pros and cons, he’d never, once, factored her father’s approval into the mix.

Now that it was front and center, he still didn’t care. If he and Alexia were going to try to work things out, it’d be between the two of them. It didn’t matter to him whether the admiral was cheering them on, or doing his damndest to roadblock them.

But they weren’t going to try, because there was no point. A relationship between them would eventually hurt Alexia. Blake figured it was better to hurt her a little now, instead of a whole lot later.

“I’m sorry, sir. But I’m not in the market for a relationship. Besides,” Blake couldn’t resist adding, “I have a dangerous career. The chances of my being hurt, or killed, aren’t insignificant. That’s a lot to ask someone to live with.”

That the admiral waved his concern away didn’t surprise Blake. But his next words did. “She grew up with the realities of a soldier’s life. She knows danger is relative. There are plenty of other dangerous careers. Police work, firefighting. Hell, my daughter just proved it’s not even safe to work in a science laboratory. She’s not going to worry about how safe your job is.”

He wanted to believe that. He wished like crazy that he wouldn’t be condemning her to a life of misery if he pursued this heat between them. But the image of Phil’s mother’s face wouldn’t fade from his mind.

“I’d worry, sir. You know as well as I do that our work requires total focus. How can you give it that focus if a part of you...” Blake winced, realizing he was treading dangerously close to sappy greeting-card territory here. But he still wanted the answer. “How do you do your job right if your thoughts are back home, worrying about the people who are worrying about you?”

“You do it because they expect you to. Because they believe you’re damn good and trust your training is the best.” The admiral shrugged, then poked a beefy finger at the framed photo of his wife sitting on the corner of his desk. “You make sure they understand your reasons for being a soldier, that they are strong enough to support you. And you let them blubber when they have to. Give them some pats on the back, a little reassurance and make sure they know how you feel. Then, if something does happen, they’re ready. They know why you did what you did and they know your feelings for them. With that, once the shock is over, they can accept it.”

Well. Nonplussed, Blake stared. Talk about sappy greeting-card fodder.

But sappy or not, maybe the admiral was right. Blake had taken the loss of Phil hard, but he’d never questioned continuing to be a SEAL. He’d never questioned Phil’s dedication to his job. Nor, he recalled, had Phil’s mom.

“The only concern your career would have to my daughter is the secrecy. She’s a stickler for talking. Communicating and all that rot.” The admiral shook his head as if the idea of a couple communicating with each other was bizarre.

It was as if someone had just flicked on a bright light straight into his brain, and Blake blinked with surprise. Not only at the totally accurate insight, but that Pierce actually knew his daughter well enough to make it.

Still... He couldn’t—wouldn’t—change who he was. So secrecy was just as valid a reason as danger to avoid getting hurt... No, he corrected, to avoid hurting Alexia.

“I appreciate you considering me suitable for your daughter,” Blake said, doing a careful verbal tap dance. “But, again, my career is my priority right now. I don’t feel there’s room for a relationship. Sir.”