Tawny Weber - A Seal's Touch

The legs were about a mile long. The kind of legs that went beyond wrapping around a guy’s waist. Legs that long would reach his shoulders.

He almost groaned when his eyes reached a pair of black leather boots similar to the ones he wore on duty. Was there anything sexier than legs like that in black boots? Sure, knee-high black boots with a little shine and skinny laces would be hotter, but boots were boots.

“Hellooo,” he murmured.

“What?” The hips moved, the back arched and the owner of those sexy legs lifted her head so fast he heard it hit something under the sink. Cussing again, this time with more heat, the body did a quick one-eighty. Sitting on the floor, rubbing her head, the woman glared at him with enough heat to start a fire.

“Taylor?”

“Cat?” he said at the same time. He automatically started to reach out and help her to her feet, but at the last second couldn’t. Touching her so soon after that image of her legs wrapped over his shoulders didn’t seem like a smart idea.

When the hell had Kitty Cat gotten hot?

Unable to resist, his gaze took a follow-up tour of the front view. Her hair, too gold to be brown, too dark to be blond, was tied back, highlighting a face too strong to be called pretty. Eyes the color of the ocean at sunset stared back under sharply arched brows. The rounded cheeks, a slight upper bite and the scar on her chin were all familiar.

The way her faded green T cupped her breasts was new, as was the sweetly gentle slide from breast to waist to hip where the T met denim.

Oh, yeah. Kitty Cat was definitely hot.

“Hey there, Mr. Wizard,” Cat greeted after checking her fingers to see if her head was bleeding. “How’s Mrs. Powell’s pride and joy?”

“As good as ever. How about the Kitty Cat? How’re you doing?”

“Same ole, same ole,” Cat said with a shrug that did interesting things to that T-shirt of hers.

Things he had no business noticing.

Locking his eyes on her face, Taylor asked, “Where’s Ma?”

“She’s with my mother. They’re on another one of their wild trips to Vegas.” Cat tossed the pipe wrench into her toolbox, the loud clang knocking loose the last of Taylor’s odd and inappropriate lust. “Didn’t she tell you?”

“I’ve been out of the country.”

“Saving the world again?” Cat teased, getting to her feet. “Did you come home to wash your cape and tights?”

Taylor grinned.

There she was, the cute kid across the street again. She’d been making superhero jokes since he’d earned his SEAL trident.

“Gotta do my part,” he said easily. “But all that superhero stuff works up an appetite. I figured I’d cop a meal from Ma. You know, some home-cooked goodness.”

As he’d told Irish, all he needed was a little time, a little distance. And home.

Throw in his buddy Cat and his mom’s cooking and everything in life was just fine.

* * *

HE LOOKED SO damned yummy.

For the first time in her life Cat wished she could cook more than her soup, salad and sandwich trilogy. For Taylor, she might actually consider throwing away her hard-and-fast rule about never playing the little woman.

Maybe.

If only for a weekend.

Thankfully, her lack of kitchen skills meant she didn’t have to face tossing aside her principles. Instead, she could order pizza.

“You sticking around for a while?”

“Yeah.” Grinning at the surprise on her face, Taylor reached out to tug at a long strand of hair that’d escaped her braid when she’d been checking her head for damage. “Why not? I’ve got a bed here. I’m sure there’s lasagna in the freezer and Ma has ESPN.”

“Sure,” she said, laughing. “You’re going to hang here alone, eating leftovers and watching sports instead of hitting the town with a hot date? You know, celebrating yet another successful mission.”

He shrugged, but Cat saw something flash behind his eyes. Was that pain? Before she could get a closer look, his cell phone chimed.

“Problem?” Cat asked when he frowned at the message.

“Maybe.” He stared at his phone for another second then thumbed it off.

“Can I help?” she offered automatically.

He started to shake his head then stopped.

Brows together, Taylor took a step backward. He looked at Cat from head to foot and back up again.

“What?” Cat’s brows pulled together. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t trust the expression in his eyes.

“Want to do me a favor?”

She wanted to do him any way she could get him. But she didn’t think he’d want to know that.

“What kind of favor?”

“It’s a little complicated,” Taylor said, leaning against the counter and crossing his legs at the ankle.

Cat held her breath, heat spiraling low in her belly as she looked up the length of those long, muscular legs all the way to his zipper. From where she was kneeling, all she had to do was lean forward a little and she could grab that zipper in her teeth and tug it right down.

“Cat?”

“Hmm?” she murmured, wondering if he’d be able to stop her before she got a peek at the good stuff.

“Favor?”

Huh?

Oh.

She blinked, wrinkling her nose before meeting his questioning look with a sheepish smile.

“Whatever you want,” she said, forcing her attention—and her gaze—off the size of his package and back to the conversation. He lived on base, so it couldn’t be construction related, unless it was for a friend. Maybe he needed his bike tuned or some help for his mom.

“Go out with me Saturday.”

“Wh—?” She cleared her throat and, figuring she needed all the help she could get, slid to her feet. “I’m sorry, I must have misheard. What was the favor?”

“I need a stand-in date. It’s no big deal.” Taylor grinned, reaching out to tug her ponytail. “Just some friends getting together.”

“Uh-huh.” Cat searched his face, trying to see what that meant. Did they get together naked?

“A few of my friends on the team. Their ladies.”

Cat’s heart raced. Afraid she’d hyperventilate at any second, she focused on her breathing instead of the idea of her and Taylor, naked. Together. Naked together.

With his friends, she reminded herself.

But that didn’t dull the heat of the fantasy. After all, someone had to take pictures.

Mmm, pictures.

Cat rubbed her hand over her mouth to make sure she wasn’t drooling.

“You wanna go? Be my date for the night?” The way he said “date” with that little laugh made it clear that while she might be fantasizing about the night ending with mutual tongue baths, he was just looking for a buddy for the evening.

And probably not a bootie buddy.

“Why me?” Cat couldn’t help but ask.

“Over the last year or so, the guys on the team have been hooking up. You know, marrying, living with their ladies, that sort of thing? It’s like an epidemic.”

“And you’re afraid you’ll catch it?”

“Nah, I’m immune,” Taylor said with a grin as he folded his arms over that gorgeous chest.

She pouted over the loss of view, but the sight of his bulging biceps was a nice consolation.

“If you’re immune, what’s the worry?” Then Cat grinned and answered her own question. “The ladies are planning a mission of their own?”

“If I don’t bring a date—a nonbimbo date—they’re going to execute Operation Bachelorhood Screw-Up,” he agreed with a laugh.

And that was it for bootie buddy fantasy—poof, all gone.

“It’ll be fun. You’ll like everyone and you’ll fit right in. You know, like one of the guys.”

Cat’s bottom lip trembled. To keep him from seeing, she grabbed her crowbar and went to work on the broken tile.