Her Mission With A Seal. Cindy Dees

window. His flashlight beam turned the rain into a sheet of crystal particles flying past him horizontally. Everything beyond the porch was swirling, angry water. In the past hour or two, he’d started imagining that he felt the cypress pilings swaying slightly in the killer currents.

      The foundation of the home only had to hold a little while longer. High tide was due in another hour, and then hopefully the water would start back down. Hopefully.

      His lonely vigil gave him way too much time to think about his sexy encounter with the hot CIA analyst. He couldn’t shake the feel of her lithe body beneath his, her arms wrapped round him like she never wanted to let go, her mouth moving restlessly against his as if she couldn’t get enough of the taste of him.

      He was by no means a monk. But he never had found a woman who was intelligent enough to hold his interest for the long term and who also was mellow enough to deal with his more autocratic tendencies. It was hard to break old habits, and he’d been a team leader for a long time. He was used to giving orders and having them followed. Even he knew that made him rotten husband material.

      So over the years he’d settled for occasional friends with benefits, women he saw between missions and who wouldn’t question him about when he might leave or might return. He’d closed off the part of himself that would have enjoyed a family and a home, and he had become the job.

      Which was all well and good as long as he had the job. But he was coming up on twenty years of active duty service and eligibility for retirement. In the current environment of budget cuts and force restructuring, he had no reason to believe he would be allowed to serve more than twenty years. This was his last year, and he’d decided to spend it in the field with his brothers and the missions he loved so much.

      Midnight came and went, and he let Bass and Ashe sleep through their shifts on watch. They were both excellent operators and fine men. Asher Konig had found the woman for him and was deliriously happy with her, and Bass loved the cars he restored as much as any woman. Neither of them seemed to feel a hole in their lives.

      And neither had he until Nissa Beck wrapped herself around him and all but begged him to take her in every sexy, dirty way he could think of. All of a sudden, he was vividly aware of the sacrifices he’d made for his work over the years, the loneliness, the coldness of the life he’d chosen. Sure, he had all the camaraderie he wanted with his fellow SEALs. But they didn’t comfort a guy in the dark when the nightmares came calling, and they didn’t make a home.

      More disturbed than he cared to admit to himself, he watched the storm pass by. It was just outside, inches away, on the other side of a thin pane of glass and a few boards, but it didn’t touch him. It raged all round him, but he stayed safe inside this shell of a cabin, isolated and alone.

      The rest of his life yawned before him, as lonely and isolated as this, and for once, he couldn’t push his fear of it away with an admonition to himself that he had years left before the end of life as a SEAL.

      Now the end was only a few months away, looming bigger and more terrifying than the hurricane outside.

      * * *

      It was nearly morning before Bass woke with a start, looked at his watch, and swore. “Why didn’t you wake me up, boss? I missed my watch.”

      Cole turned to him. “I was wide-awake, so I decided to let you guys sleep.”

      The quiet conversation roused Ashe, which was no surprise. SEALs were notoriously light sleepers. He asked, “How’s the storm doing?”

      “The worst of it has passed.”

      “Did it hit New Orleans?” Ashe asked quickly.

      His wife, Sam, was a native and had refused to evacuate. But Ashe had convinced her to go to the naval station to ride out the storm in a hardened building close to the base hospital. Sam was seven months pregnant, and Ashe was having no part of anything bad happening to her or their baby.

      “Jessamine slid west of the city. New Orleans is still taking a lot of rain and some wind damage, but the levees are holding.”

      “Thank God,” Ashe breathed.

      “She’s fine,” Cole replied. “Sam’s tucked into SEAL Ops, and none of the guys will let anything happen to her.”

      Bass chimed in, “A bunch of them know how to deliver babies, too.”

      Ashe scowled. “Sam’s under strict orders not to have this kid until I’m there to deliver it.”

      Cole grinned. “And did you have a conversation with your son about that? Did you explain to him that he’s not supposed to come until you get home?”

      “Yes, as a matter of fact. I did.”

      Bass and Cole both laughed and ribbed Ashe about what a pushover of a father he was going to be as dawn broke outside. They ate tuna fish straight from the can—it wasn’t the most appetizing breakfast Cole’d ever had, but it was a whole lot better than some of the swill that had passed for food in his career.

      Nissa wandered out of the bedroom around the same time the rain stopped, around nine in the morning. “Is it over?” she asked, her voice husky with sleep and sexy as hell.

      Dear God, she was irresistible with her hair—which turned out to be wildly curly when released from its braid—tangled around her face, the formfitting leggings and turtleneck she’d been given to wear under her wet suit leaving nothing to his vivid imagination. His gaze slid up her body hungrily, taking in every detail of her figure, before lifting to her face and—oh, sh—

      She was watching him examine every inch of her. Her eyes were wide and startled, but as he gazed into them they went dark and sultry.

      Dammit. She was thinking about her dream and that smoking-hot embrace they’d shared. And she knew darned good and well that he was thinking about the exact same thing. He tore his gaze away from hers, but that wasn’t much better. He looked down and couldn’t help but notice her chest rising and falling in short little gasps. Did she have to get so turned on every time she looked at him? It was really starting to mess with his head. And he wasn’t going to be able to stand up without embarrassing himself for too much longer.

      In fact, he moved over to the couch and sat down just in case.

      “Hungry?” Ashe asked her from behind Cole.

      “Yes. What’ve you got?”

      Ashe put on a cheesy fake French accent. “I have for zee mademoiselle a delicious tuna fish on zee half can. Or I can offer to her zee beans of later making music.”

      Nissa’s laugh was as musical and appealing as the rest of her. “I’ll take the tuna, thanks.”

      “Good choice,” Bass commented, opening the stove door to add more wood to the fire.

      Nissa settled on a chair that put her knee about six inches from Cole’s. Was she trying to torment him? He was supposed to be the ice man. Nothing rattled him, and nothing ever shook his vaunted cool. He shifted uncomfortably, putting a few more inches between them, hoping he was subtle enough about it not to draw his guys’ attention. He stared fixedly into the fire, determined not to give them any fodder to harass him or, more important, to harass Nissa.

      The iron stove door clanged shut, startling him into looking up at Bass. The guy was smirking knowingly. Dammit. At least he’d had the decency to keep his amusement to himself and not embarrass Nissa. Cole made a mental note to have a private word with Ashe and Bass later to keep their remarks to themselves and be respectful of her.

      “How much longer until we can get out of here?” she asked no one in particular.

      He glanced at Bastien, who was the local and more accustomed to hurricanes than the rest of them.

      Bass shrugged. “Depends on how long it takes the water to go down. Could be a day, could be a week. When we can move out will depend on where we plan to move to.”

      “Meaning what?” Cole asked.

      “Are