Susan Cliff - Stranded With The Navy Seal

She didn’t get up. She rolled onto her side and cried.

He knelt next to her. His hand rested on her waist. Instead of asking questions, he waited for her to compose herself.

“I’m okay,” she said finally. “I just fell.”

“Where does it hurt?”

She gestured to the general vicinity. The back of her dress had ridden up, exposing her sore, muddy bottom. He swept his palm over her abused flesh, squeezing gently. Then he gave her a soft pat of sympathy.

“I don’t think anything’s broken,” he said.

“Are you a medic, too?”

“No.”

She tugged her dress into place, suspecting he’d enjoyed that exam a little too much. He winced as he staggered upright, as if his knee was bothering him. The injury reminded her that he was a human being with real weaknesses. He wasn’t impervious to pain. He schooled his expression quickly and helped her to her feet.

“We need to find shelter for the night.”

Unfortunately, there were no convenient cabanas to duck into. There wasn’t even a dry rock to crawl under. She trudged along behind him, her head down. She was cold and wet and her butt hurt. The only pace she could manage was slow. The rain dissipated. The slope of the hillside became less severe, and the foliage grew thicker.

In the gathering dusk she imagined a lot of creepy crawlers that probably weren’t there. Spiders hanging from the trees. Centipedes scuttling through wet leaves on the ground. Poisonous frogs, pit vipers and tiny, flesh-eating parasites.

Then the mosquitos descended, and she wished for anything but them. She waved the buzzing nuisances away from her ears and wrapped the tulle around her head in an attempt to protect her face.

When a mosquito bit the tender flesh behind her knee, she shrieked in protest. “I’m getting eaten alive!”

“So am I,” Logan said, slapping his neck. “This sucks.”

“Literally!”

He dragged her toward a large rock formation that rose up in the gloom. Its mossy surface was covered in vines, hiding what appeared to be the mouth of a cave. He had to push aside the foliage to gain entry. It was pitch-black inside, and smelled bad. It was the least inviting shelter she could imagine, but she would’ve gone into Satan’s lair at this point. She held his hand in a tight grip as they ducked into the cave.

“I don’t know what’s in here,” he whispered.

“As long as it’s not more mosquitos.”

He stayed still for several moments, breathing hard in the dark quiet. “We can’t explore the interior.”

That was fine with her. She had no desire to explore. None whatsoever. Her eyes adjusted to the lack of light in slow increments. He sat down with his back against the cave wall. She wanted to curl up next to him, but she wasn’t sure which side of him was safer.

What if a wild animal wandered in?

What if one tried to get out?

“Here,” he said, splaying his legs. She settled between them, her back against his front. He put his arms around her. He was wet, but warm. His heartbeat pounded in a strong, steady rhythm. Fast, but not too fast, like hers. He was alert, rather than panicked. That was comforting. She could count on him to stay calm even when she was freaking out.

“What’s that smell?” she asked. “Rats?”

“Bats.”

Ugh. The hairs at her nape prickled at the thought of them flapping around her curls. Their nasty little teeth and leathery wings. At least the cave was free of mosquitos. She’d die of rabies, instead of malaria. “Can you make a fire?”

“Not without dry wood.”

She tried not to squirm around too much, but she was uncomfortable. The ground was hard against her sore bottom. She was hungry and thirsty.

“Tell me about yourself,” he said.

“What do you want to know?”

“Where do you live?”

“I lived in San Francisco, until recently. I left a few months after I broke up with Andrew. It seemed better to make a fresh start. Right now I’m staying at my parents’ house in Long Beach.”

“I still live with my parents.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. I’m overseas a lot, and they have a guest house. It works out.”

“Where is it?”

“Del Mar. It’s a suburb of San Diego.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

“Born and raised.”

Her grandparents lived in San Diego. She was stranded on a deserted island with a fellow Southern Californian. What were the odds?

“Did you grow up in Long Beach?” he asked.

“Close. Irvine. My parents moved because my mom got a job offer there. She’s a high school principal.”

“A principal and a cop for parents?”

“Sounds fun, right?”

“Were you a rebellious teenager?”

“Not really. Were you?”

“Nah. I was a mama’s boy. Still am.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty. You?”

“Twenty-seven.”

He grunted in response, shifting his injured knee.

“Am I hurting you?”

“You’re fine,” he said gruffly. “You should try to get some sleep.”

“What will we do tomorrow?”

“Find water. Make a fire. Build a shelter.”

She groaned at his overzealous to-do list.

“The beach isn’t far. Tomorrow will be an easier day.”

“I doubt there will be any easy days on this island.”

“Maybe not, but we’ll live.”

“You sound confident.”

“I am.”

“Have you ever failed at anything?”

He didn’t answer. When silence stretched between them, she realized this was a touchy subject. More painful than his busted knee, perhaps. She wondered if he’d failed to complete a mission, or failed to protect someone.

“I should have thanked you for saving me,” she said.

His arms tightened around her shoulders. “Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s a big deal,” she insisted. “You risked your life.”

“It was the least I could do,” he said. “You got kidnapped while you were with me. Because you were with me.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“I convinced you to leave the bar.”

She hadn’t needed much convincing. She flushed a little, remembering how uninhibited she’d been. How she’d devoured his mouth in the hallway. “I wouldn’t have done the same if our situations were reversed. I wouldn’t have started swimming after you.”

“I’m trained for combat and water rescue. You’re not.”

She didn’t think it was only a matter of training. He was a hero by nature. She wasn’t. She’d been frozen with fear during the attack, and for hours after. The same thing had happened when she’d witnessed her grandfather’s death. She’d been catatonic, unable to move or speak. Unable to help.

She wasn’t calm in emergency situations. She didn’t like taking risks, or stepping out of her comfort zone. Whenever she did, she regretted it. This situation was a prime example. Her first attempt at a one-night stand had resulted in her kidnapping. It couldn’t get any worse than that! She didn’t embrace danger, like Logan. As grateful as she was to be under his protection, his presence set off major emotional warning bells for her.

She had to be careful with him. She was still trying to move on from her last romantic disaster. He was clearly a no-strings type, and a magnet for adoring females. He’d caught the eye of every woman on the cruise. She couldn’t afford to get attached.

But keeping her distance wasn’t an option, so she pushed aside her misgivings and settled against him. He made a warm, steady wall behind her. She felt safe in his arms. Although the chemistry between them was still there, she wouldn’t act on it. They weren’t going to finish what they’d started on the dance floor.

That ship had sailed—literally.