A SEAL's Fantasy (15 page)

Lara wet her lips, not sure why she was so close to tears.

Phillip was a stranger to her. She had less connection to him than she had to the creep cadre that haunted the alley behind the casino each night.

But she couldn’t stop the unreasonable fear tugging at her heart.

“He’s really that good?”

“He’s one of the best,” Dominic assured her.

“I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I don’t have to be buddies with a guy to want him covering my back.”

And that, she supposed, was the highest of compliments.

“Besides, protecting your body is a pleasure. I should actually thank your brother.”

“I’ll bet your throat would choke on the words,” Lara teased.

“What? You don’t think I can be grateful?”

“No. I think you can be very grateful. But I know how guys think. You say thanks, you figure you’re giving my brother that kind of power over you. Even an inadvertent favor is still a favor.”

“Very true.” Dominic’s laugh was appreciative as his hands slid down her back to settle in the curve just above her butt. “So? You think he’d hold it over me?”

“Prince Perfect? Unless he’s changed, he doesn’t keep score. Nope, Phillip’s too good for that.”

For the first time in years, Lara realized that didn’t bother her. Phillip being perfect was his cross to bear, not hers.

She sighed, hoping perfect got him through whatever he was dealing with. It couldn’t be that bad, could it? He was a SEAL. He wouldn’t settle for anything less. That had to mean something, right?

“Why’d you become a SEAL?” she asked, needing to talk about something else before she started thinking of Phillip as an actual, real brother or something crazy like that.

“Because nobody else in my family had.”

“Right. I’ll bet nobody else in your family is a circus clown, either, but I don’t see you sporting polka dots and a red nose,” Lara said, laughing.

“Actually, my uncle Manny is a rodeo clown. Close enough to keep me out of floppy shoes.”

Giving him an impatient look, Lara tapped her fingers against his chest. Finally, he shrugged.

“Okay, really. I joined the Navy because nobody else had served in the military. In a family as big as mine, everyone has pretty much done everything by the time you get to it. When I hit college, I knew everything I didn’t want to do but really had no clue what I did want.”

“What happened?”

“I went home with a buddy on spring break. His brother was a Ranger.”

“Ranger?”

“Army.”

“But you joined the Navy.”

“I like the water,” he said with a laugh.

“That simple?”
Seriously? He’s inspired by the brother of a friend and likes the water, and just like that, he’s found his life calling?
Lara wasn’t sure if she was impressed or jealous.

“I’m a simple guy. When something’s right, I know it.” He squeezed her butt. “Like this.”

Good, delicious, mind-blowing, maybe.

But
right?

Lara figured maybe he needed to check his thesaurus.

She and he? They were passing ships on that water he was so fond of.

She swallowed against the bitter taste coating her throat. That’s just the way it was. Being upset about it was a waste of energy.

“What about you? You’re all about the dance? Wasn’t it just like that?” he asked, thankfully changing the subject.

“For a while,” she acknowledged. To this day, Lara didn’t know if it’d been passion that had driven her love of dance or a desperate need to immerse herself in something. Anything that made her feel good, accepted. And kept her away from her family as much as possible.

“You said something about Broadway, right?”

“Right. For two years.”

“So is that what you always wanted to do? Dance?”

“Enough to leave home for it.” Lara sighed, missing that feeling. She’d had so much passion and belief in her dream. Nothing was going to stand in her way.

Except, of course, herself.

“That’s why you left? You couldn’t dance in Maryland?”

“Last time I looked, Broadway was in New York,” she quipped. Then, seeing his impatient look, she relented. Fine, he wanted a peek into her past, she figured she owed him. “My parents were fine with me dancing, per se. It was a nice, ladylike hobby, acceptable among their society friends.”

“I’ve gotta say, I’m having serious trouble picturing you as a meek, ladylike society girl.”

“You and me both.” Lara smiled, resting her chin on the hands she’d folded over his chest. “I loved the dance. Obsessed with it. It’s all I wanted. But the rest? Country club socials, acceptable dates, polite well-rounded dinner conversation? I didn’t quite live up to expectations. By the time I was sixteen, they figured my obsession with dance was getting in the way of my duties.”

“They wanted you to stop?”

“They ordered me to quit. Refused to pay for classes, then grounded me six months later when they found out I was still going. I applied for a scholarship and you’d have thought I’d tried to murder my mother.”

“Because you disobeyed?”

“Hardly. I rarely behaved to their standards anyway.” Lara laughed. “No, she was furious because I’d implied that we needed financial assistance.”

“And your brother?”

Lara frowned.

“What about him? He never weighed in on the discussion, if that’s what you mean. I’m honestly not sure he realized I was a dancer. I’m positive he never noticed when I left.”

“How is that possible? You lived in the same house, right?”

“Not really. I mean, technically we did. But he went to prep school, then Annapolis. My dance schedule got me out of boarding school, but it wasn’t like I hung out at home watching TV and chatting with the parents.”

“So you took off for Broadway? That’s, like, fancy dancing, isn’t it?”

“I suppose. Ballet, jazz, tap, I did it all.” She smiled against his chest. “I was good.”

“How good?” he asked.

She laughed at the innuendo, then shrugged.

“Really good, actually. I’d been dancing since I was a toddler, so I had a lot of time to work on it. By nineteen I was an up-and-comer. Another year, maybe two, I’d have been out of the corps and dancing solo roles.”

“So how’d you get from there to Broadway to the Silver Dust?”

“Life took me on a trip,” Lara said lightly.

She didn’t want to talk about all her screwups, lousy choices or many failures. Not with a guy who probably had none of the above, and was probably going to turn out to be all of the above for her.

“Enough with tiptoeing through the past,” she said, angling her body so she was over him instead of on his side. “Let’s talk about something more interesting. Like nothing.”

His hands skimmed from her hips upward, briefly cupping her breasts before sliding back down and between her thighs.

Oh, baby, he had talented fingers.

“Okay, but first I have to ask...”

Heart racing, desire curling in her belly and need clawing its way through her system, Lara shrugged.

“Fine. Ask fast, though.”

Unfortunately, though, he apparently couldn’t ask and play at the same time, because he moved his hand from her welcoming heat to her waist.

Dammit.

“You’re up there on stage. Dancing. Almost naked. Thousands of strangers watch you each week.”

Desire forgotten, Lara tensed. Was he seriously going to pull out the judgment card? Now? Her knee twitched as it calculated the distance to his groin.

“Isn’t that hat heavy as hell?” he finally asked.

“What?”

“You’re so graceful up there. You swerve, you sway, you kick and hop and dance all over. But you’re wearing that big-ass hat. Isn’t it heavy?”

Lara blinked.

That was it?

The relief pouring through her was almost as strong as the orgasm she’d relished earlier. Deep, penetrating and powerful enough to make her want to cry.

No judgment.

No pithy criticism of her parading near-naked for perverts, friends and strangers alike.

Nobody, ever in her life, had simply accepted her like that.

Lara didn’t know what to think, what to do.

She almost kissed him. But that’d be admitting how much his opinion meant, and she wasn’t stupid.

So she went for light and easy instead, figuring she’d show her gratitude in a silent, easily-misinterpreted-as-lust kind of way.

“Most of my headdresses weigh between eight and twelve pounds,” she told him, tilting her head to one side, then the other as if balancing a hat.

“I’m impressed,” he mused, his fingers skimming along the side of her head to chuck her under the chin. “Do they teach that in dance school?”

Lara laughed, thinking of the hours of grueling, sweat-inducing, body-twisting dance classes she’d attended over the years.

“Oddly enough, no. How to wear a heavy costume isn’t covered in most dance curriculums. But thanks to my most excellent upper-body strength, I’m a natural.” Showing off a little, and desperate to get his hands onto her body where they belonged, Lara flexed. “Wanna feel?”

“Impressive,” he agreed, his fingers sliding over her bicep.

“And now that we’ve settled that, why don’t we see if we can get you that hard,” she challenged before reaching down to stroke his impressive muscle.

As they slid into a nice wave of lust, something Lara could easily understand and handle, she tucked away that feeling of acceptance. If a girl got used to that kind of thing, who knew what she might start wanting.

Scary things.

Like love.

9

L
ARA HAD SPENT
most of her life on stage. She’d been stared at, had her movements dissected and her body critiqued. Her childhood had been a training ground for high-society head games. She’d dined with senators and in soup kitchens.

But nothing had prepared her for this.

She looked around the dining room with wide eyes. Someone had butted two long and narrow tables together to accommodate the masses of food. And the crowd.

It was a toss-up which of the two was more impressive.

Roast, potatoes, enchiladas, a delicious soup called posole and an array of vegetables to make any growing kid sprout up healthy. As colorful and tempting as all of that was, Lara had only managed a couple of bites because she was too distracted.

These people were loud.

Loud, and incredible-looking.

Life had clearly blessed the Castillo clan with a whole lot of gorgeous. The men were dark and big, a few towering over Dominic’s impressive height. The women were stunning, from Nana Rosa to the baby beating her spoon on the other end of the table.

“So, Lara, right?” The exotic brunette with Castillo’s eyes leaned around her brother to gesture with her fork. “Dom’s never brought a girl home for Sunday dinner before. Where did you two meet?”

Thankfully, Lara had finally lifted the forkful of food to her mouth, so she had the excuse of chewing to gather her thoughts.

Dominic had told her to feel comfortable, be at home and enjoy his family. He’d also reminded her that she was his mission, and that meant top secret.

Fine by her.

“Dominic saw me dance,” she said instead. Then she slanted the man next to her a teasing look and added, “As soon as he did, he was smitten. He practically begged me to get coffee with him.”

“And did you get coffee with him?” Celia asked, her eyes narrowed. Lara didn’t understand why she seemed so suspicious.

“Lara played hard to get,” Dominic interjected, laying his arm over the back of Lara’s chair and giving her an indulgent look. “But I convinced her. Eventually.”

“Eventually,” Celia repeated, her tone delighted. “Good for you, Lara. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard him having to beg for anything. Girls have always made things too easy for this one. It’s about time he had to work a little.”

“Hey, you’re supposed to be on my side,” Dominic protested.

“Yeah, Celia. You’re supposed to regale Lara with stories about how great Dominic is,” a man said from across the table. “Isn’t that right, little brother?”

“I’d rather hear Lara’s stories.” Celia’s smile was all friendly curiosity. “So you dance? Where?”

Lara glanced at her plate, debating for a brief second. She liked Dominic’s family. They had all offered a friendly welcome and, despite their obvious curiosity, had made her feel comfortable and appreciated.

Dominic was clearly the golden boy, the pride of the family. How would they feel knowing the woman he’d brought home was one step up from a stripper?

She waited for Dominic to interrupt, to tell his version of their meeting. Because she wouldn’t lie.

But he didn’t say anything.

Okay, fine. Deep breath, big smile and showtime.

“I’m a showgirl,” Lara said, meeting Celia’s eyes with a direct look. “I dance at the Silver Dust Casino in Reno.”

“Really? Do you train for that kind of dancing?” Celia asked, not even blinking.

Lara frowned.

Where was the judgment?

“Um, not really. I mean, I had extensive training before I got to Reno, but I never trained as a showgirl.”

“What kind of dance did you do before?”

“She was on Broadway,” Dominic broke in. Lara blinked at the pride in his voice. As if he thought it was a really big deal. From the impressed looks around the table, a lot of the rest of his family thought so, too.

“Hey, we just saw a dancer the other night,” said one of Dominic’s cousins sitting halfway down the table. “Marco’s bachelor party. Her name was Lotta Oomph, and boy, did she live up to it. She had the hots for Dom, too.”

Lara’s lips twitched, and she slanted Dominic a glance.

He shrugged and gave her a look as if to say,
what’s a guy to do?

“Enough, Leon.” Dominic’s mother shot her nephew a chiding look, then lifted a platter. “Lara, would you like more empanadas?”

“Thank you.” Lara took the platter. “Everything is delicious.”

“Don’t you have to watch your weight as a dancer?” Celia asked, giving Lara’s plate an envious look. “I only did ballet for a year, but I thought I was going to starve.”

“I don’t usually eat much,” Lara acknowledged. Not because of her weight, but because she couldn’t afford a lot of food. “But I have a pretty fast metabolism.”