Tawny Weber - Sexy SEAL Box Set - A SEAL's Seduction / A SEAL's Surrender / A SEAL's Salvation / A SEAL's Kiss

He didn’t bother saying that to Cade, though. Compared to the Sullivans, Cade’s family, Admiral Pierce might as well move into the trailer park Blake had grown up in.

“What do you think he’s gonna do now that he’s retired?” Cade asked idly, his mellow tone at odds with the sharp intensity of his gaze as he scanned the crowd. “Put on one of those flowered shirts and putter in the garden?”

“I hope someone takes pictures,” Blake snorted. Then, after another drink, he shrugged. “He’s mentioned doing consults in D.C., maybe put together some programs here on the base.”

That was the great thing about Cade. No pissiness over Blake having an inside track with the admiral. Then again, Cade’s uncle was a senator and his father owned half of northern California. So he had plenty of inside tracks of his own.

“Why bother to retire, then?” Cade asked. “Retirement is supposed to be relaxing, isn’t it? Like R&R every day?”

Blake grimaced. That was way too much relaxing for him. Like this party, that kind of deal just wasn’t in his cards. He scanned the crowd again, looking for a waiter and another beer.

Unlike the poor civilian saps in tuxes, he and Cade, along with a bunch of bright shiny brass, got to wear their dress whites. It wasn’t fatigues, but close enough to keep him comfortable.

“Sir,” the waiter said with a little bow as he exchanged Blake’s empty glass for a full one.

He shifted his shoulders against the constricting fabric. At least he used to be comfortable. For the first time since he’d put it on, it felt as if his uniform didn’t fit right.

“What’s up?” Cade asked after exchanging his own glass. “You’ve been antsy as hell all night.”

“Just want to get out of here. This isn’t my kind of thing.”

“Dude, ya gotta party while the music’s playing.”

Cade’s grin disappeared as the words cleared his mouth. That’d been Phil’s favorite saying.

Blake stared into his own pilsner glass. They were trained for this. They went into every single mission knowing it wasn’t just a possibility, but a probability, that sooner or later one of them wouldn’t make it out. So what was with the emotional drama? When did it get easier?

“Landon, Sullivan, glad you could make it,” the admiral said in a big, hearty social voice. As opposed to the big, gruff commanding voice he usually used to bark out orders. There actually wasn’t a whole lot of difference in the two, except the slightly disturbing smile on his face.

“Congratulations on your retirement, sir,” Cade said. “The base won’t be the same without you.”

You had to hand it to him, Cade rocked this social bullshit. And the admiral ate it up with a spoon.

“I did my best to leave a strong mark,” he claimed before giving Blake an indulgent look that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “And I like to think I’m leaving behind a legacy. That my influence will carry on, if you know what I mean.”

“The mark of a great leader is the impact he leaves on his troops,” Cade agreed.

Blake didn’t have to look at him to know that beneath his social tone, his buddy was smirking.

“And speaking of legacies,” the admiral said, pulling on that social smile again, “Landon, there’s someone I’d like to introduce you to.”

“Sir?” Shit. He didn’t want to meet anyone.

“My daughter. A lovely young woman. Articulate, bright and gainfully employed. Top-security clearance, a solid portfolio, and being my daughter, she’s well versed in what’s required to support a military household.”

Obviously Pierce didn’t play matchmaker very often.

And Blake wished like hell he wasn’t doing it now. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what game the admiral was playing. The old guy liked Blake’s story. SEAL, linguist, decorated soldier triumphing over a pathetic childhood. The son-in-law ad practically wrote itself.

Except Blake wasn’t in the market.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Blake said. “I’d be happy to make your daughter’s acquaintance, but I won’t be asking her out. I’m seeing someone.”

It wasn’t until he saw the shock on his superior’s face that Blake realized this was the first time he’d said no. His shoulders twitched again. It wasn’t as if he’d refused an order, he told himself. All he’d done was sidestep the questionable honor of being dangled in front of the admiral’s daughter.

“Elliot, darling,” Mrs. Pierce said, giving Blake an apologetic smile before dismissing him with a tilt of her head. “It’s time for the toast.”

“Excellent,” Pierce said, arching his brow at Blake. “You’ll wait, of course. I’d like to finish this discussion.”

Blake almost saluted out of habit.

“I’m a soldier, not a lapdog,” he muttered instead as soon as the old guy was out of earshot.

“What’s the big deal? You meet his daughter, play nice, then skip out to hook up with that hot redhead again.”

Blake frowned.

“What? You didn’t think I could figure out why you’ve been mooning all night?” Cade laughed. “Dude, it’s practically written on your face. I’m surprised you can drink that beer with the hook stuck so tight in your lip.”

Like feeding jackals, denial was pointless. Besides, Blake shifted uncomfortably, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure that he wasn’t hooked good.

He was spared the need to think of a comeback thanks to a chiming crystal bell.

First time he’d ever been grateful for a speech.

The gratitude lasted about five minutes.

“I hate politics,” Blake decided under his breath, not for the first time.

“You want to get anywhere, get anything done, you play the game.” Cade shrugged as though it didn’t matter. But his lips twisted, a bitter indication that he, too, thought the game sucked.

Blake ignored the droning accolades, letting his mind wander back to Alexia. As soon as this toast was over—regardless of who the admiral wanted him to meet—he was outta there. He wanted to see her. To talk to her. To taste and touch and have her.

No surprise, really, since he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. Except the wanting to talk to part. That could probably be filed under shocking.

But as hot as things were between them, he knew she wasn’t going to be satisfied with just sex much longer. She’d already been pushing, hinting. He remembered the aggravation in her eyes that morning. She wanted more, and if he wanted her, he was going to have to pony up.

He shifted, his uniform suddenly tightening like a straitjacket. Sharing his past wasn’t an issue. Admitting his job? It was going to take a whole lot of charm to get her naked after he fessed up to being not only navy, but a SEAL, too.

He was pretty sure he had enough, though.

“Well, now...” Cade murmured, his grin wicked.

Blake followed his gaze.

He recognized the man first. Strawberry-blond hair fashionably tousled, alligator tuxedo lapels indicating not just custom, but way-out-there custom, and a ruby pinkie ring that glinted as he waved a friendly greeting to the crowd.

Michael?

What was he doing here? Was he a part of the entertainment? Blake wondered what he’d missed while he was obsessing over Alexia.

He watched the younger man reach out to assist someone onto the raised dais. His hand closed over slender fingers. It took an obvious tug to get the rest of the woman’s body to move. Despite his confusion, Blake grinned. Somebody didn’t like the spotlight.

Then, as people shifted, he saw who Michael was trying to drag onstage.

Her hair tumbled in loose curls over one bare shoulder, the red so deep it was almost black in places, so light it shone gold in others. Something black draped a tall, willowy body, the effect saved from elegance by the slender rose tattooed on her bare shoulder. The fabric was deceptively loose, but wrapped in a way that drew his eyes to the sweet curve of her breasts, the slender indention of her waist.