Hemingway - Zoe Dawson Page 0,23

was walking down to where they were. Her movements were graceful yet strong and controlled. She handled the men she passed as easily as if they were puppies. She fascinated him when she shouldn’t. Shea Palmer wasn’t his normal type of woman. She wasn’t soft and easy, like he usually liked his women. Who knew demanding and tough were damn sexy?

“She looks like she’d be a solid fuck,” Wilson said, and it was Professor’s turn to hold Hemingway in check. He took a hard breath and wondered where his determination to keep his head down and play by all the rules had gone. He wanted to be a SEAL more than anything. He had a lot of people involved in this dream he’d been working at for years. Blood, sweat and sheer determination to pull out all the stops here at Coronado when it mattered was all that mattered. It had to. Generating attention by having problems between candidates wouldn’t play well with the BUD/S instructors. It had been a knee jerk reaction.

She looked good dressed in a red top and white cropped pants, white sandals on her feet. The colors popped against her tanned skin. She was fit. There was no mistaking the toned arms, the flat stomach and the sculpted thighs and calves. She lifted weights and probably was an amazing runner. He was sure every male eye was on her as she walked toward them. But his heart made a little jump when he saw that she was looking for him.

Not his type by a longshot.

She might wear her clothes to perfection, but it wasn’t lost on him that she wasn’t caught up in the more conventional rituals of being female, something Hemingway couldn’t apologize for in the women he chose to hook up with. Tomboys had their appeal to some men, but he liked a woman who enjoyed her femininity.

So their chemistry and that night kinda blew his mind.

It was the first time he’d ever felt on the edge of…what? Blowing it, getting caught up in something that hadn’t been planned out to the minute?

Professor turned to give him a knowing grin, laughing softly. “Yeah, that’s the way it is. Be careful bro, women like her can be trouble.”

“Shut up,” Hemingway said absently. “She’s not really my type.”

Professor rolled his eyes, but his sigh told Hemingway he accepted he couldn’t talk Hemingway out of his fascination with Shea. Grinning wickedly, he said, “She’s athletic. You worried about her outrunning and outmuscling you, tough guy?”

He shoved Professor.

Just as she reached them, a bus pulled up and women waved out the windows. It looked like someone had hit the college sororities and given out a lot of invites. She turned at the collective male roar as the colorfully clad women filed off the bus. SEALs, even SEAL candidates drew women in an effortless string.

“Go find your own woman,” Hemingway said to his friends. “There’s nothing to see here.” There was plenty, especially his inability to be smart. There was no explanation why he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

“Right. I guess I won’t see you until Sunday,” Professor said, his blue eyes gleaming, nodding to Shea as he passed her, walking backward with a knowing expression until a redhead set her hand against his back and he turned, his attention now on her.

“Hey there, sandman,” Shea said, settling on the top part of the picnic table facing him. “You clean up nice.”

“I decided to leave my sugar cookie look for Monday. I’ll be wearing it again very soon.”

“That’s a nice way to downgrade what I am sure is a miserable time.”

“Embrace the suck isn’t just a saying at BUD/S. It’s all part of the becoming an elite warrior package.”

Her eyes twinkled. “All expenses paid?”

He grinned, noticing her beautifully manicured nails with a pretty pink polish. The soft touch was so at odds with her knowing eyes and full-bodied laugh. But then, she was a study in contradictions when it came to his reaction to her. This was just another interesting incongruity. “Yeah, full ride with a beach front view, world travel, meeting interesting people. You gotta love Uncle Sam. He’s my sugar daddy.”

“Oh? Do I have competition?”

“Maybe.” This might have been a fun moment between them, but he couldn’t ignore reality. Training would take him away from home for an extended length of time. Getting involved right now would be folly.

“Where are your manners, slipknot?” Mad Max appeared at his elbow as he offered one of the plastic cups