Claiming Her SEAL (ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights Book 1) (3 page)

“Let’s go to the pool,” Emma said decisively and Rachel nodded, vaulting off the bed to go do her hair in the bathroom.

The only way to get over her ridiculous phobia about water was to get in it. The pool didn’t bother her though, so it was kind of a cop-out, one she hadn’t exactly let on to Rachel about. Emma still held out hope that something would magically happen in the messed up part of her head that would free her from the grasp of such weakness.

And besides, she couldn’t keep an eye out for her white knight from a hotel room.

Dex
. Even thinking his name made her shiver deliciously. The bikini could remind her of Dex just as easily. And her rescuer was a real man who knew how to treat a woman. His gorgeous, flinty gray eyes, dark stubble and darker hair, and cut, bronzed body were just icing on the cake.

He wasn’t the type of man she normally went for. But this wasn’t Boston. Her normal type of man had turned out to be an unstable psychopath, which had frankly put her off men entirely.

Maybe in the Caribbean she could go for a different kind of man altogether. Just for a few days. No one was doling out marriage proposals, and even if they did, she wasn’t accepting. No more relationships. At all. She was single and happy about it. If Chris had taught her nothing else, at least she’d learned that marriage and men as a whole didn’t give a girl any guarantees. She was much better off on her own.

Except vibrators didn’t always do the trick at the end of the day.

She stripped out of her sundress and panties, imagining that the white triangles of the top were Dex’s hands cupping her breasts instead. Oh.
Much better
. It was so much safer to fantasize about a man than it was to deal with a real one. The fabric peaked up her nipples, sensitizing them as she mentally experienced Dex’s thumbs brushing over the tips as he murmured to her in that sin-drenched voice of his.

Nice
.

He was her little secret, the one thing about being on a small island situated in a big ocean that had made her feel something other than lost and terrified. The whole time she’d been near him, her pulse had raced with excitement, like she’d finally woken up from the nightmare of the past three months and it was over.

She didn’t think about her ex-fiancé, Chris, one time while in the presence of Dex.

And that made Dex someone she just might lift her man-moratorium for. There was very little Emma wouldn’t do to forget how the man she’d once been engaged to had tried to drown her. If that blessed memory wipe came in the form of a beautiful guy like Dex who radiated carnal energy and came equipped with a killer smile, sharp wit, and a protective gene? Sign her up.

She slipped on the bikini bottom, right over the ache at her core that she’d managed to generate with a three-second fantasy about the man she’d met on the beach. Well, Dex had flat out told her his name rhymed with his best skill. Clearly, his abilities extended to virtual pleasure, and dear God was she in desperate need of a man who could do all of the above.

She just wanted to feel like a woman in charge of her own destiny again.

The fact that he’d also flat-out rejected her wasn’t a factor. If she ran into him again—and oh, she intended to—she’d change his mind. It was practically a requirement.

Rachel emerged from the bathroom wearing her swimsuit and a sarong-style skirt. Coupled with the glasses Rachel wore, her friend’s style screamed sexy librarian, and it worked very well for her.

They found empty lounge chairs near the bar, and Emma let Rachel fetch margaritas for them both because her friend had a crush on the bartender. Since his dimples flashed deep enough to be viewed from the moon, she couldn’t find fault in Rachel’s taste.

Plunking down in the other lounge chair, Rachel stuck her bare feet out and handed Emma her drink. “There’s a club over on Abaco Island that Rico just told me about. Wanna go dancing later? He said he’d pick us up in his speedboat at nine.”

Speedboats traveled over water. At night. The murky depths of the ocean would be dark and impenetrable. Emma schooled her expression. “Wearing the bikini is one thing. But I don’t know if I could do the speedboat.”

Rachel glanced at her over the tops of her glasses, which had turned dark in the sun. Concern radiated from her eyes. “That’s okay. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

So much for trying to be cool about it. Emma’s throat swelled to roughly the size of a bowling ball. Rachel had been her roommate in college, and they’d been tight for so long that Emma couldn’t even remember a time when she didn’t have her friend to lean on. It was a godsend, especially as she tried to fight her way to the surface of a crappy water phobia and a sense that she’d never trust a man again.

Rachel had been there every step of the way as Emma tried to find her place again, where the world didn’t constantly feel as if it might shift beneath her feet at any second.

Of course, the woman who knew her best hadn’t been fooled by Emma’s bravado and general pretending that everything was fine. “I swear I’m trying.”

Rachel frowned. “No one said you weren’t. Craphead drove off a bridge with you strapped into the passenger seat. If you never go into the ocean again, I don’t think anyone would say two words about it, least of all me.”

Craphead had been Rachel’s nickname for Chris even before he’d tried to take Emma along on his suicide mission. Honestly, she was surprised Rachel had stuck with something so bland. “But this trip was supposed to be about moving on. I hate that you’re trapped in la-la land with me. You should get to have fun on your vacation.”

“Honey, look around you.” Waving at the pool, Rachel grinned and jerked her head at an oiled specimen of manhood parading around for their viewing pleasure. “This is the Caribbean. I’m sitting by the pool with my best friend, and I have a margarita in my hand. The view does not suck. Which part of this isn’t fun?”

The part where I’m being a big fat baby about going in the water.

“Besides,” Rachel continued brightly. “I’m a big girl. If I want to go snorkeling, I can go by myself.”

And that decided it. If Rachel wanted to go snorkeling—despite never having mentioned such a burning desire—she should go snorkeling. With Emma. Who should stop making such a big deal about the ocean. The water was clear enough to see the bottom, for crying out loud. Emma could stick her head under the surface. No problem.

But while Rachel tore off on another subject, Emma’s chest constricted so fast she saw stars.

“You okay?” Rachel set her drink down and smoothed a palm over Emma’s arm.

“Fine.” It came out more easily these days than it once had.

But what was the definition of fine? Not waking up in a cold sweat, gasping for breath after another nightmare where she couldn’t find the surface? Being able to go back to work at Dr. Blair’s office and be a dental hygienist again? Spending seven days in the Caribbean with your best friend and actually having a good time?

If so, Emma was going to be
fine
, starting right now. Rachel deserved it. Emma deserved it.

“Hey, looks like Rico’s shift is over,” Emma commented breezily, as if she really was a normal woman on a normal vacation. The bartender had just untied his apron and thrown it on the bar. “You should see if he wants to watch a movie or something. You can have the room.”

She threw in a brow waggle for good measure just in case Rachel couldn’t decode “watch a movie” on her own.

Rachel’s eyes widened as she followed Emma’s line of sight. “Now that’s a fabulous idea if I ever heard one. You’re a peach, hon. Sure you’ll be okay hanging out here by yourself?”

Something unintended must have flashed across Emma’s face because Rachel chuckled with a knowing nod.

“I see.” Her friend stuck her tongue out. “You don’t expect to be alone.”

Actually, what Emma had in mind required zero audience, but she let Rachel think whatever got her friend gone and waved as she took off after Rico’s deep dimples before he disappeared.

As soon as Rachel strolled out of sight, hand placed provocatively on the bartender’s solid bicep, Emma leaped off the lounge chair and beelined it for the beach. If she walked far enough along the shoreline, she could avoid a repeat of yesterday, where her attempts to strong-arm her water phobia into submission had resulted in an unwanted admirer.

Giant boulders marked off the resort beach, not so much blocking the way as providing flag posts for the extent of the resort property. Beyond the boulders, which were easily skirted, the beach grew scraggly and the sand not as fine. Which mattered nothing to Emma other than it meant guests never went this far, because there were no lounge chairs and waiters with umbrella drinks. Nor were there ham-handed creeps with no neck and no morals.

This time she might actually make it out into the water. Baby steps. Once she waded out,
voilà
. Everything would fall into place, and she’d have no problem ducking her head under the water. No more panic attacks, and then she could march back to the room and grin at Rachel as she announced, “Book the snorkeling excursion.”

Step one toward regaining control of her mental state and her life.

Except the surf was a little rougher here, pounding against the sand relentlessly as wave after wave rolled in. There was nothing out here. No people, no houses, no boats. Emma glanced back at the resort, barely visible from her vantage point. The land snaked along the shore, curving and curling a bit so that natural inlets formed. Overgrown weeds and cattails covered the dunes, which was pretty but didn’t provide much in the way of line of sight. If something bad happened, no one at the resort would ever see her as she went under for the last time.

God, what a stupid idea.

The ocean was a killer. The worst kind of killer because it came wrapped in a beautiful package, lying silent until it struck, forcing you under the pressure of its weight and disorienting you from seeing which direction the oxygen lay.

She whirled and walked back in the direction she’d come. The rough sand bit into her feet.
Scaredy-cat, scaredy-cat
. The taunt rose up in her head, repeating in time to the sound of her footfalls.

The ocean wasn’t the problem. Emma was the problem. She’d fallen for Chris without realizing his good looks and stable job hid deep, psychological problems. The whole time she’d been fighting for her life as her fingers worked at the seat belt buckle so she could escape the watery grave Chris had designed for them both, all she could think was,
“I want to live.”

And she had survived. But wasn’t really living.

Skidding to a halt before she’d traveled two yards toward the resort, she bit her lip and groaned.

Rachel had planned this trip specifically for Emma’s mental well-being and Emma wasn’t stepping up. If she couldn’t swim, she couldn’t go snorkeling, now could she? She owed Rachel a fun trip and owed it to both of them to get better. She pivoted, marched back to her original spot, and took a deep breath.
Walk toward the water. Do it.

She took a step.

There was just
so much
water. Everywhere. Surrounding the whole island, every place she turned. It was a lot of freaking water and she couldn’t escape it. She backed up.

“Sweetheart, you’re making me dizzy.”

The smooth chuckle that accompanied the male voice emanating from behind her skittered down her spine.
Dex
. She’d only fantasized about his voice a million times. “I’m making me dizzy too.”

Now why had she admitted something like that, especially to him? After all, he’d blown her off yesterday without a thought. He’d probably forgotten all about her.

Soft steps alerted her to his presence a moment before her back heated. His gaze was wandering down her shoulders and spine, caressing her waist. She could feel it, and that was just as arousing as imagining his hands replacing the scraps at her breasts. And lower.

Well, she’d gotten his attention again today, obviously.

But then he drew up beside her in the sand, staring out at the water. “Wouldn’t have expected you to be so far from the resort after attracting the attention of the jackass yesterday.”

She tossed hair over her shoulder as she glanced at him. “What, like I’m afraid?”

Could he see through her so easily? Did she radiate some kind of vibe that said she’d lost her inner strength and couldn’t find it again?

“No, like you’re smart. There’s a whole lot of nothing out here.”

Yeah, realized that, she thought sourly. “I was just thinking about going back.”

“Oh, is that what was up with the Hokey Pokey you were just playing with yourself?”

His mouth quirked up in a grin she couldn’t resist, and the corners of her own mouth lifted in involuntary response. As they smiled at each other, something elemental passed between them, coloring the atmosphere with a dark and delicious awareness.

“That’s what it’s all about, after all,” she said.

“I’ve been missing out then.” The teasing note in his voice dropped away. “Normally, this would be the part where I’d say, you should show me.”

“But you’re not going to,” she guessed and tamped back the disappointment. He’d told her yesterday that he was bad news, but she’d half thought it might be a misguided sense of propriety after a near assault. Which she appreciated.

But this was today. The man exuded scarcely contained power and energy, and it was just as affecting as it had been yesterday. Never would she have said she was one to be attracted to a man like him, one who walked around wearing board shorts and nothing else, but barely seemed to register that anyone would find him worth gawking at.

But he was so gawkworthy, it wasn’t even funny.

This trip was about finding her center again. What was wrong with picking up a hot guy along the journey toward the surface of this quagmire she’d fallen into? She wanted to feel strong and in control of her life for once. A torrid vacation fling might be just what the doctor ordered.

If he’d warned her off yesterday because he didn’t want her to feel obligated to her rescuer, he could forget that notion. She’d grant her company to whomever she wanted to, whenever she chose, for whatever reasons she saw fit, and there was nothing he could do about it.