Feel the Heat: A Contemporary Romance Anthology (83 page)

C
herished
by the SEAL is a standalone story connected to the ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights series. You can read more about that world at
www.navysealromance.com
.

The first book that I wrote in that series is Ruined by the SEAL. You’ll see a glimpse of Mick and Cara in this book.

I love the Caribbean. There’s nothing more romantic than walking through a resort once the sun goes down, surrounded by fragrant flowers and the sounds of the ocean. Maybe live music off in the distance. For this reason, I’ve visited this part of the world in two series so far, and can’t wait to come back. If you want to stay in touch and hear about any future releases—beach reads, military romance, and more!—please join my VIP Reader Mailing List here:
www.smarturl.it/ZoeYorkNewsletter
.

~
Z
oe York

www.zoeyork.com

L
ogan adjusted
the flower pinned to his lapel for the tenth time and paced outside Tori’s hotel suite.

As the dude of honor, he was left waiting in the hallway as her sisters got her into her wedding dress. Some things weren’t for best friends to do when one best friend had a dick—especially when that dick secretly wanted the bride-to-be.

He left out a frustrated breath because
that
was a thought he was
not
allowed to dwell on today.

It was Tori’s wedding day, and she was over-the-moon, ridiculously happy with Stephen. He was everything Logan’s best friend wanted in a man: stable, smart, and safe.

Everything that Logan wasn’t.

Hell, he’d barely made it to the wedding because his SEAL team had gotten stuck in the middle of a jungle for an extra seventy-two hours.

Not a big deal to him. That was his job. But for Tori? He’d have been gutted if she’d felt like he couldn’t be trusted to be there for her on the most important day of her life.

Since she accidentally pinged him in the head with a dodgeball in grade three, Victoria Fletcher had been Logan Dwyer’s best friend in the entire world. And as soon as whatever drop-dead-sexy lingerie she was wearing was safely hidden under a dozen layers of lace, he was going to be by her side until the second she said “I do” and he had to officially accept that he was no longer the most important man in her life.

Since he’d spent the last six years on the SEAL teams, flitting in and out of her life, often without any notice…well, he probably hadn’t worn that label in her mind since college.

But in his mind, and his heart, Tori would forever be his girl.

He turned around and glared at himself in the mirror across from the elevators. His damn flower looked just fine. It was his attitude that needed serious re-adjustment.

Behind him, the elevator began to work with a muted sound of gears, and a ding on a floor above or below. Logan never turned off his heightened sense of awareness. He listened again. Below, definitely. And as soon as the elevator started up, it slowed again, so before the doors opened on Tori’s floor, Logan was already turned around and facing the lift.

The groom-to-be was the last person he expected to see stepping off the elevator car. Both of them had been adamant that they follow tradition and not see each other before the wedding service.

Logan didn’t mind. It meant that he had Tori almost all to himself last night. They’d gone out for drinks and dinner with her sisters, then retired to her suite and stayed up until two in the morning reminiscing about elementary school, lazy summers, and busy course loads. Nearly twenty years of friendship rehashed over and over again until their faces hurt from grinning.

Now Stephen McKenzie was in front of him. The man was about to marry the most perfect woman on the planet. He had no fucking excuse not to be smiling.

No reason to have his car keys clutched tight in his white-knuckled fist. The wedding was downstairs in the hotel ballroom in forty-five minutes.

Logan stood a little straighter. Yeah, he towered over the guy. At six-four, he towered over everyone. Usually, he didn’t care about using that to his advantage. Right now, the way the groom looked a little green as his eyes flitted nervously back and forth between Logan and the bridal suite door? Logan would use every bit of physical menace he could muster.

“What’s up, Steve?”

“It’s Stephen.” Right there. That was why the guy was a jackass. Because in a moment where something was wrong, where he was nervous about something, he still cared most about his name. Selfish prick. “I need to speak to Victoria.”

Logan wanted to step in his path, but he didn’t have that right. Instead, he gestured toward the door. The words didn’t come out the first time he tried to force them past his lips, but they burned like hot rubber on pavement when he pressed them a second time. “She’s just getting dressed, but go ahead.”

Stephen didn’t move.

Logan gave him one last benefit of the doubt, even though his stomach was churning because he suddenly had a damn good idea about what was going on. “Is someone hurt?”

“Ah…no.”

He slid his gaze down the hand gripped around the car keys. “Going somewhere?”

Stephen blanched. “I can’t do this.”

“Of course you can. Nerves are normal,” Logan said, his voice cold. Clipped.

“Maybe it would be better if you told her…”

“Told her what?” He wasn’t going to let this guy off the hook. He had to say it out loud.

Stephen’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat. “I can’t do it. I can’t marry Victoria.”

T
ori was mid-twirl
, checking out the ribbons lacing up the back of her wedding dress, when they heard the crash from outside her suite.

Her sisters raced to the door ahead of her. Elspeth took one look in the hallway and slammed the door shut again.

“Tori, you should go check your makeup in the bedroom,” her middle sister said, panic painted all over her perfectly done-up face.

She rolled her eyes and pushed past Elsie. “What the heck is going on?”

When she pulled the door open again, she found Logan rubbing his fist and Stephen flat out on the floor, and all the blood drained from her head. “What…”

She rushed to her fiancé’s side and reached for his hand to help him up, but he waved her off. As he staggered to his feet, she whirled on Logan, whose face was drawn tight. She stared at him, unable to process what was going on. When she opened her mouth, no words came out, and the silence stretched painfully as the distant sounds of the hotel provided a surreal soundtrack to the worst thing that could have happened on her wedding day. She couldn’t find the words to express how upset she was right now. She’d always known that Logan didn’t care for Stephen, but to punch him?

“Explain yourself,” she finally said, her voice shaking.

His jaw flexed but he didn’t say anything.

“Logan!”

From behind her, Stephen cleared his throat.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said as she spun around. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

Instead of answering her, he stepped back from her. What the hell was going on? His face—around the dark red bruise forming just below his cheekbone—was unnaturally pale. She took another step toward him and he shook his head. “No.”

“No, what?”

“Don’t make this harder.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He…he hit me because I came up to tell you I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?”

“We need to call off the wedding.”

“What?” She laughed because that was preposterous. Stephen was the one who’d wanted to get married. He’d pushed her to pick a date when she had been happy just to be engaged for a while. “Oh my God, do you have a concussion?”

He shook his head, then groaned. Maybe he really did. But when he spoke again, his words were even more clear. “I don’t love you, Victoria. I can’t marry you.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re
kidding!
” she shrieked, the reality setting in. It was immediately followed by white-hot rage. Suddenly a punch to the face seemed entirely reasonable and she kicked off her shoe so she could pummel him with it. “You said you couldn’t wait to be my husband. You pushed… We have three hundred people eating shrimp and hundred-dollar-an-ounce caviar downstairs. Imported from
Russia
. Are you fucking kidding me?”

Strong arms circled her waist as the tears started to fall, as Stephen stepped backward onto an elevator car she hadn’t seen him call. Those arms turned her around and held her against an even stronger, warmer chest as she started to sob, and carried her into the suite when she finally sagged against him in defeat.

Logan carried her straight past her sisters, holding her curled against his body, so she only had to hear their shocked and sympathetic whispers, and didn’t have to see their faces. He set her on her bed, then stepped back outside for a minute.

She heard him murmur something about telling her father, who could make a general announcement, and then he was back, curving around her where she’d slumped sideways on the bed.

The hiccups came after a while. She was all sobbed out, but every time she tried to start talking—because there was stuff to do. Three hundred guests.
Oh my God
—her chest would seize up and her diaphragm would stutter, and Logan would make a shushing sound in her ear.

“I want out of this dress,” she finally managed.

“I’ll get one of your sisters,” he murmured in her ear.

“No, you can do it.” She sniffled and shoved herself up to a sitting position. “I’m fully covered underneath, it’s some horrid corset thing that I thought would be sexy, but it’s really just a torture device. Can you grab me a t-shirt from that suitcase there?”

He hesitated behind her, then agreed in a rough voice.

“There’s a big one, I think. One of yours, from a fun run you did a few years ago. I’ll take that.”

He came around in front of her and handed her the navy blue t-shirt, worn and soft from many wearings. Stephen had always side-eyed that she wore Logan’s t-shirts, but when she asked him for one of his to sleep in instead, he’d rolled his eyes and said it didn’t matter.

And see? It hadn’t. Because she’d been ready to become his wife today, and he’d…

And he’d…

Her breathing hitched as another round of sobs tried to get started again in her chest, and Logan got right in front of her face.

Logan.

She gave him a weak smile and he returned it. His wasn’t weak at all, though. His crooked smile was full of rueful knowledge, steady and understanding.

“You never liked him.”

“Nobody will ever be good enough for my Tori.”

“I think that’s supposed to be my dad’s line.”

He snorted.

Yeah, exactly. Her father had just been thrilled that Stephen and Tori had footed the bill for the wedding. What a waste of money. Suddenly the lace and satin she was still bound in felt like iron chains.

“Dress off, now.” She tugged the t-shirt over her head, sliding her arms into it before turning around. “If you just loosen the ribbons, I can get out of the rest of it.”

Another hesitation, then Logan’s hands pressed against her back. “Where do you…Oh. Down here.” He untied the bow, but the carefully laced up back didn’t give.

She wiggled a bit, and one of his hands landed on her hip.

“Stop moving,” he said, his voice strained.

She closed her eyes. “Sorry,” she whispered.

Stupid girl clothes. Stupid wedding.

Stupid Tori for thinking any of this was something she deserved.

Logan finally figured it out, his fingers tugging at the ribbon, loosening it up her back until the bodice finally gave way. She held the front of the dress against her breasts and nodded. “Thank you.”

“What about…the…um…underneath stuff?”

She smiled despite herself at the awkward hitch in his voice. The things he did for her. She owed him big time. “The lingerie is pretty easy to get out of. I can manage that myself, don’t worry.”

“Great. I’ll just…wait outside.”

I
n the living
room of the suite, Logan found Tori’s sisters, Elspeth and Caroline, waiting nervously. He should have come to look for them before he agreed to undress the bride. If he wasn’t so God damned upset for Tori right now, he’d be sporting an embarrassing erection. Even thinking about the slices of creamy skin he felt as he tucked his fingers behind the white ribbon and loosened her confining dress…

Damn it.

He crossed to the bar and poured himself a drink.

The wordless twins followed.

“Well?” he asked after tossing back an ounce of generic scotch. Bridal suites should be better outfitted than that. Jesus. He winced at the aftertaste.

“The hotel staff are on it. They’ll arrange for the gifts that people want to leave for Tori to be stored until she’s ready to collect them, and the food will be redirected to a local shelter,” Elspeth said, hurriedly.

“And everyone knows that it was Stephen’s fault,” Caroline added.

Like that fucking mattered. Logan shook his head. “And is everyone gone? Can Tori go home without running into anyone?”

“Maybe give it another hour.” Elspeth licked her lips. “What should we do about the honeymoon tickets?”

“See if they’re refundable or transferable.”

Logan stripped off his jacket as Caroline called the travel agency. Then he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Tori wasn’t the only one who felt confined in formal wear.

Hell, he could wear a hundred pounds of camo-patterned kit and carry a machine gun and feel more comfortable than he did in a tux.

On the phone, Caroline was getting more and more agitated. “But there has to be some exception for being
dumped
.”

The bedroom door opened just in time for Tori to hear the last few words, and Logan wanted to howl at the casual slight. As inappropriate as it would be, he wanted to open the main door to the suite and escort her sisters out and then lock the door.

“It’s fine,” she said, her voice pinched and controlled. She looked around the room, managing not to make eye contact with any of them. In his t-shirt and knee-length yoga pants, she looked tiny and fragile. “Caro, tell them I’ll go.”

Caroline covered the telephone mouthpiece with her hand. “The package is transferable if you want someone else to go instead.”

“Are you volunteering?” Three female heads swiveled his way. Caroline blanched, and Logan felt like a shit, but the thought of someone just assuming what Tori wanted galled him. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I meant…maybe another couple would want to go. Because it’s for two people. But that’s another option—” She looked at her sister. “Someone could go with you.”

“Who has a week off?” Tori snorted. “No, it’ll be good to and lie in the sun by myself. Figure out where exactly I went wrong with my grand life plan. The only person who could put up with my whining would be Logan.”

He stood a little straighter. He had a week off. In order to take leave to come to her wedding, he’d had to take an entire week because of the travel across the country.

Technically he’d have to get permission from his OC to go— “Where is the resort again?”

Tori rolled her neck and he wanted to cross the room to rub her shoulders. “Miralinda. Nothing but rain forest hikes and white sand beaches. Is it wrong that I still want to go? It was the only part of the wedding that was one hundred percent my decision.”

“Not wrong at all. And if you want company for your misery, I’ll go with you.”

Three sets of female eyes blinked at him in surprise.

“You will?” Tori straightened up. “You can?”

“Sure. Of course. I have a week of leave. Might as well use it to help you drown your sorrows.”

Caroline jerked her attention back to the phone in her hand. “Okay, the ticket for Stephen McKenzie needs to be transferred to a Logan Dwyer. American.” She looked back at him. “You have a current passport?”

He tried to keep a straight face as he nodded. He’d been in five different countries in the last three months. Of course, he’d only used his passport to enter three of them, but yeah, he had the proper documentation.

* * *

T
ori shoved
her carry-on bag under the seat in front of her—again. Then she cursed under her breath.

“Hey, it’s fine.” Logan took her hand and squeezed.

She winced as she looked at him, folded nearly in half in the charter airplane seat next to her. “Sorry about the economy tickets.”

He just shrugged. “We’ll be there soon enough. It’s a short flight.”

She glanced past him out the window. Bright sun glinted off the airplane’s wing, and below that, the Atlantic Ocean stretched endlessly. It only took two hours to fly from Atlanta to Miralinda, but it felt like an eternity. She couldn’t wait to land and be safely away from anyone that knew yesterday was supposed to be her wedding day.

Anyone except Logan, of course. He’d been such a rockstar over the last twenty-four hours. She gripped his hand a little more tightly as she tried to remember what he’d kept saying to her.
“This isn’t about you. Nobody thinks this is a reflection on you. Stephen’s clearly going through something messed up in his head.”

When Logan had finally whisked her out of the hotel suite and into his waiting rental car, she’d checked her phone. There had been three voice mail messages from Stephen. Variations on a theme. He was sorry. It wasn’t her. There wasn’t anyone else. He just couldn’t do it.

She didn’t understand, but now as her carry-on bag tumbled onto her toes,
again
, she felt something inside her snap. Because it didn’t make any sense that it wasn’t her. Of course it was her. She hadn’t been enough for him. He couldn’t see himself with her forever.

Hot, frustrated tears scalded the inside of her eyelids as she squeezed them shut.

“Breathe, Tori,” Logan said, his voice low and right beside her. Steady. Non-judging. “In and out. Long, slow breaths.”

“I can’t.” The two words caught on each other, turning into a single, hitching word.
I-uh-can’t.

“You can.” He inhaled in her ear, then exhaled. “Just like that. With me. In thirty minutes, we’re going to land in paradise. And I’m going to do everything in my power to distract you from whatever feelings have you crying again. That’s right. Breathe in. And out. Good girl.”

As he stroked his hand up and down her forearm, she felt herself relax again. “What a shitty vacation for you,” she finally murmured.

“Hardly. You said there are rainforest hikes, right?”

She groaned. She had said that. “Mm-hmm.”

“There is nothing I like better than a good waterfall, Tor. Don’t you think for a second this week isn’t going to be awesome for me.”

She nodded. Maybe.

“Hey, look at that…islands.”

She cracked her eyelids open and peered out his window. It was too soon to be Miralinda, but the first glimpse of the Caribbean islands made her smile, if still a bit weakly. “Yay.”

“That’s better.” He leaned back against his seat, his gaze glued to her face. “We’re going to make the best of this. Promise.”