Sexy SEAL Box Set: A SEAL's Seduction\A SEAL's Surrender\A SEAL's Salvation\A SEAL's Kiss (57 page)

His unwelcoming scowl had turned into a ferocious frown.

She wrinkled her nose. She should have kept checking out the bod. He obviously wasn’t thrilled to have company.

So what else was new?

“Hi, Brody. I brought you some cookies.” As greetings went, it was lame. But she added her best smile. When that had no reaction, she held up the plate as proof. And, yes, as a bribe.

He didn’t even look at the plate. Her lips threatened to drop into a pout.

“Um, it’s me. Genna.” She paused, brows arched. She tried a friendly smile that was only a little shaky with nerves. When he didn’t even blink, she swallowed hard, then added, “Joe’s sister.”

Your favorite pen pal
, she wanted to say. But given his reaction so far, she was a little afraid to bring that up.

Genna waited. After five seconds, her smile dimmed. At thirty, she was straight-up frowning. Knowing a glare was imminent at sixty, she crossed her arms over her chest, the cookie plate hitting her in the shoulder, and lifted her chin.

“Well? Aren’t you even going to say hello?”

Now her scowl matched his.

So much for dating. She couldn’t even get the guy to talk to her.

* * *

B
RODY
KNEW
THERE
were many levels of hell. Why Genna Reilly had to keep showing up on his was surely a way of punishing him for any of his hundreds of infractions.

Did she have to look so damned good while she did it, though?

Why hadn’t she aged in ten years?

She should have packed on some weight. Gotten bad skin. Hell, even a lousy haircut would be something.

But, no...

There she stood, long and leggy, her body still as slender as a dream. Her curves were more a whisper than a shout. Nature’s way of keeping the attention on her gorgeous face, he figured. Her hair was shorter than she’d worn it as a teen, hitting her shoulders instead of flowing down her back. And those huge eyes, with their exotic tilt and lush lashes, were narrowed with irritation.

He didn’t care.

He hadn’t invited her here, so why should he play gracious host?

“Are you going to say anything?” she asked, sounding exasperated. “Hello would be nice. Or even hi if you’re only up for a single syllable. I’ll settle for a grunt. Or if that’s too much, you can simply step out of the doorway and gesture. You know, a silent invitation.”

Brody’s lips twitched.

Damn. He’d been so focused on remembering what it tasted like, how it’d felt, he’d forgotten all the other reasons he liked that mouth of hers.

All the more reason not to invite her in.

“Why are you here?”

“Oh, look. He speaks,” she said in a cheery tone, lifting one hand to the empty yard as if inviting the worms and bugs to listen up.

Refusing to smile, Brody put on his most ferocious scowl. The one that made hard-ass recruits wish they were home hiding behind their momma.

Genna just smiled.

“I’m here for two reasons,” she said in that irritatingly upbeat tone of hers. As if she really thought she could smile him out of his mood. “The first is an official welcome from Mayor Tucker, who would be honored if you’d join him one day this week for lunch.”

Was she kidding?

Did he look like the kind of guy who did lunch?

Apparently asking herself that same question, Genna bit her lip and gave a frustrated sigh.

“I’m guessing from your excited expression that this invitation is the highlight of your week. But wait, I’ve got even more wonderful news.”

She paused, giving him an expectant look. Brody just shifted, leaning his shoulder on the frame of the door so he could take his weight off the vicious throbbing in his leg.

“You know, I’ve been told I’m the best community outreach liaison this town has ever had. Now, granted, I’m the only one it’s had, so there might be a little bias going on. But still, people are usually a little more impressed by my charm than you seem to be.”

Oh, he was impressed by her charms, all right. He let his gaze wander again, enjoying the contrast of the vivid red sweater against her golden skin and the way her jeans molded her long legs.

Charming temptation. That was Genna.

“I’m not interested in company, cookies or invitations.” He paused, then lied, “Of any kind.”

Hurt flashed in her eyes for a second, assuring him that she’d gotten the message.

Good. He hated to waste his breath.

“I was hoping we could talk,” she told him. She rounded her eyes and did a little head tilt thing, indicating the house behind her. “Your gramma asked me to.”

He followed her gesture in time to see his grandmother’s head disappear and the screen door shut. Nice. Gramma Irene was trying to save him with sugar—and he didn’t mean the cookies.

“I thought you were the community outreach liaison here on the behest of the mayor.”

“That, too.”

Right.

“Not interested,” he said again.

She huffed. Actually bunched one fist on her slender hip and gave a big huff. He wanted to grin but he figured it’d just give her crazy ideas.

He tilted his head toward the walkway instead, indicating she should go.

“C’mon, just five minutes. We’ll ease your grandmother’s worries and I’ll be able to tell my boss I did my job.” When his expression didn’t change, she pouted.

He eyed the stubborn tilt of her chin. Another thing that apparently hadn’t changed. It was as if the last ten years hadn’t even happened.

It all crashed down on him.

Thanks to a bad leg, he was trapped in Bedford. Because of the mission that’d jacked his leg, his life sucked and he had no freaking hope for the future.

And here was Genna, the town princess. Shining bright and cheery. The sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

He gritted his teeth against the pain of it all.

She’d gotten him in trouble once before.

For his first year in the navy, he’d cursed her walking into that garage. But even as he cursed, he hadn’t been able to regret it. Hell, he was already paying the price. What was the point of not enjoying the memory?

By his second year, he realized she’d inadvertently saved him. A girl like Genna was out of reach for a guy like him. An impossible dream that he wasn’t stupid enough to think he’d had a chance at keeping. But because he’d touched that dream, he’d found a shot at a great life. At a life he was great at.

And now? Now it was all gone.

Despair poured over him like tar, black, sticky and impossible to ignore. Damn Genna for making him open the door, both to the guesthouse and to the past.

Done with the conversation, and all the emotions it stirred up, he turned away. Two excruciating steps, even though he tried not to put too much weight on his leg, and he let the door swing shut behind him.

With Genna on the other side where she belonged.

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back, and sighed when he heard the door
snick
back open.

He should have known.

“Brody, please, listen to me.”

“I told you to go,” he said, not turning around.

“Not until we talk.”

God, was there no end to the woman’s stubborn streak? She still hadn’t learned when to give it up. And why should she? She wasn’t the one who’d paid for playing with fire.

He was.

Not because he’d been shanghaied into the navy. But because once there, he’d found himself. He’d found his path, his life. He’d made a difference, for himself, for his country. And now it was gone. Freaking blown to hell like his leg, and as dead as his friend.

And here she was, doing it again. Those big blue eyes gleaming with an invitation that spelled trouble. The delicious, mind-numbing, body-draining kind of trouble that made a man stupid.

Tempting him, stirring up longings and hopes that had no chance in hell of surviving.

Playing with a sweet thing like Genna could only end up with the same results as last time.

A glimpse of heaven, a little bit of delight and yeah, sure, probably a little happiness. But it wouldn’t last. Nothing did.

And when it was done?

He’d be right back where he started, alone and empty.

With yet another memory of what he couldn’t have.

Hadn’t he paid enough already?

He had nothing left.

6

“C
AN
’
T
YOU
TAKE
A
HINT
?” he asked gruffly, turning around in time to see her set the cookies on a small table by the door. “Even when the hint is spelled out in short, simple words.”

“I’ll go in a minute. Right after I pass on the messages I’m supposed to.” She put on that obstinate look he remembered so well, chin high and arms crossed over her chest. Fine. She wanted to see stubborn, he’d show her a thing or two.

He didn’t say a word. Instead he crossed the room—what should be a quick task given that it was the size of his footlocker but was instead a study in pain. Genna’s eyes got wider with every step closer he took.

Unfortunately, his body got harder with each step, too.

By the time he was standing next to her, his head was filled with her scent. Sweet spice, it wrapped around him like a warm hug that quickly turned hot.

He was trained to control his body. To ignore pain, to push through discomfort. He’d endured Hell Week. He’d trekked eight miles through a jungle in Bolivia once with a broken ankle. He’d won five hundred bucks once betting that he could sit through three hours of Farrelly brothers without cracking a smile.

But the scent of Genna’s hair made him quiver. Sent his head into a tailspin and his body into overdrive.

He told himself to resist. Warned his body not to engage.

His body ignored the warning. It was as if she was jamming his radar and manipulating the signals.

He didn’t like it.

“What do you really want, Genna?” he asked, furious at the frustration coursing through his system. Frustration that was all her fault, dammit. He’d been fine holed up here, ignoring the world and reliving every miserable detail of the end of his last mission. The explosion. The helplessness.

The memories gripped him with inky black fingers, trying to pull him down. But Genna’s big eyes, sexy mouth and intoxicating scent held his attention, forcing him to stay in the here and now.

“I told you, the mayor asked me to stop by.” She bit her lip, studying his face as if she were gauging just how much to share of the rest of the mayor’s wants. “He wanted to extend his appreciation for your service.”

Smart girl, she’d realized it was pointless to repeat the stupid luncheon idea. Brody narrowed his gaze when Genna looked away, her fingers twining together before she tucked them into the front pockets of her jeans. Clearly there was something else she hadn’t mentioned. Whatever it was, he didn’t care. The idea of him and the mayor having lunch was ridiculous. Ten years ago, Tucker had been just starting out as the county’s assistant D.A., with a lot of ambition and an oft-shared goal of getting losers like Brody off the streets.

“I don’t serve for appreciation,” he said, his tone gruffer than he’d intended.

Genna opened her mouth, that full lower lip glistening with temptation. Then she snapped it shut and shrugged. He’d like to think that meant she was done and would leave, but he was starting to realize that she had a stubborn streak wider than his own.

“Your grandmother is worried about you. If you don’t want to meet with the mayor and discuss getting a little of the recognition you deserve, fine. But at least talk to your gramma.” She lifted both hands in the air, the gesture matching the exasperation on her face. “Why did you come home if you were only going to hide out?”

Good question.

Brody’s scowl deepened when he couldn’t come up with an answer.

“Time to go.” He reached out, wrapping his hand around her arm to turn her in the direction of the door. But the move put pressure on his bad leg so he had to shift his weight to compensate. And ended up way too close to Genna.

Close enough to feel her body heat.

Close enough that her scent, teasing before, grabbed him in a choke hold, not letting go.

Close enough that he could see the darker rings of blue around her pupils, could see the individual lashes that made up the lush fringe around her eyes.

He yanked his hand away.

“If you wanted, maybe we could go to lunch instead.” Her words were low and husky with curiosity, her eyes hinting at nerves and something more. Something that grabbed at Brody, made him want the impossible. “If you just needed someone to talk to, someone to help you deal with all the emotional stuff you’re facing, I’m a good listener.”

“You want to have lunch and talk?” he asked, sure he’d heard her wrong. “About my emotions?”

“If that’s what you wanted.”

Hell, no. He didn’t talk missions, he didn’t talk about the military. And he sure as hell didn’t talk about emotions.

Brody pressed his fingers against his temple, trying to rub away the tangle she was making of his thoughts.

“You should talk to someone, Brody. Your gramma, me, anyone. You’re hurt and you’re back in Bedford for the first time since you left. That has to mean something.” She paused, taking a deep breath that made him want to slide his lips along her collarbone, then she reached out. Her fingers came within millimeters of touching his arm, but didn’t make contact. It was as if she was testing the electrical charge between them, seeing how potent it was.

The hairs on his arm stood up, his entire body reacting as if she’d slid those fingers over him. Touching, soft and gentle, everywhere.

“I don’t talk,” he said, irritated that the words were mellow, not abrupt.

“Not even about our night?” She gave a tiny wince, as if she knew she’d crossed a line. Then, typical of the Genna he remembered, now that she’d crossed it, she danced all over the other side. “I never forgot it.”

“You need to leave.” He’d said the words to her so many times, they were like a catchphrase now.

“Brody—”

No. He couldn’t deal with this now. Not her, not the memories. Not the feelings she was stirring up.