Hemingway - Zoe Dawson Page 0,20
“Why? Do you think—”
“No. Definitely not. That kid is as straight as an arrow.” He turned to go. “I should know. He was recently working with our squad and held his own.” He stopped at the door. “You will be a powerful distraction. Probably not something he needs right now,” he said with another of those smiles. “Have a good day, Shea.”
Mad Max disappeared out the door, and after a moment, Shea followed. SEALs…so damn secretive. She exited the building and headed for her car. He was right. She would have to find the internal discipline to stop staring at the man or there would be more speculation neither of them could afford or wanted.
She reached into her bag to pull out her keys and headed for her car parked just outside the door in the parking lot reserved for the building.
“Hold up?” She heard the loud call and turned to find Sinclair jogging toward her, soaking wet and caked with sand.
“You ducking out on me again?”
She gave him the once over. Damn, he still looked good wet, sandy…naked. She mentally slapped herself hard, but she couldn’t keep her thoughts in line. She held her position, watching him come toward her. She’d had a difficult time leaving him. That was until she reminded herself who she was and what she still needed to accomplish…without any relationship baggage, or sharing for that matter. She wanted to keep it all to herself. It was too personal to talk about even to her brother. She should have been able to walk away from him without a backward glance, without saying goodbye. But here he was, walking toward her with that loose-hipped saunter of his, smiling that full-of-hell smile. Determined not to let him see how his arrival had affected her, she said, her tone dry, “You looked like you were pretty busy following orders.”
He grinned showing white teeth and that wicked smile she hadn’t forgotten, tipping his head to one side. What the heck was wrong with her?
She leaned against her car, working hard at not letting him matter at all.
He aligned his body next to hers. “Nothing too taxing. Just a refreshing dip in the ocean and a nice roll on the beach.”
“I once had a dog who enjoyed that. How are you at catching a frisbee?”
He laughed softly, the glint in his eyes turning into a wicked gleam. “Competent. But the burning question is: How are you on belly rubs?”
Amusement flickered through her. He was a tantalizing tease. “Competent,” she said.
He grinned at her and braced his hand on the roof of the car, holding her gaze with the kind of amused familiarity that made her insides churn. “I had a good time before you ditched me. I wouldn’t protest if you wanted to use me again.”
She gave him a long, level look. “You were a good time,” she said, unable to stop the soft grin on her face.
“How good?”
She gave him another look of mild rebuke. “If you want to go fishing, Sinclair, there’s a whole ocean right over there.” She gestured loosely in the direction of the vast Pacific. The waves so close she could hear them crashing against the shore.
His gaze fixed on her, he continued to grin at her, the glint in his dark blue eyes intensifying. There was something different about his face, a little leaner, maybe, the smooth skin around his eyes showing a few fine lines. He held her gaze, the expression in his eyes softening, becoming a little warmer, a little more intimate. The kind of look a man gave a woman he had thoroughly enjoyed and wanted to do again. God help her.
“You are a sassy, beautiful woman, Shea Palmer.”
Something in his tone, something in his eyes, set off a tingling in every nerve ending, fluttering in her chest making her feel like a girl, a woman. It almost hurt how good it felt. He was a game changer, and he didn’t even know the score.
He leaned in, and she leaned back. “No way, sandman.”
He nodded and pushed off the car, and she felt a moment’s disappointment that he hadn’t put up more of a fight. He walked to the edge of the building and picked up a hose. Without hesitation, he turned it on and lifted the end up over his head washing off most of the sand on his face. The white T-shirt molded to his chest and upper arms and she got lost in the memory of how it