Rescuing Her Seal(7)

Perfect. He could kill his surprisingly strong attraction to Lilah Houston by throwing himself into the Galloway Games. Some honest physical effort would go a long way toward cooling his fervor for skin tasting. Funny how quickly that had turned into a thing.

Lilah fingered a stray lock of chin-length dark hair out of her face and zeroed in on her friend. “Are you sure? You didn’t seem like you were up to it.”

“I feel fine. Practically normal. I don’t want to disappoint everyone,” Thora said in a reedy voice that was accompanied by a full-body weave that would have knocked her on her butt save the strong arm around her waist.

Okay. So the semihug wasn’t strictly an excuse for Jack to put his hands on a foxy woman.

“Great,” Lilah gushed. “I’m really looking forward to it. When do we start?”

Fitz did a double take at the faked enthusiasm. So she wasn’t the one who’d sold this trip to her friend then. Unless he missed his guess, Jack and Thora had cooked up this scavenger hunt as a method to spend time together while continuing to pretend they did not, in fact, have the hots for each other.

Probably they should have picked a different guy for their team than a recon/surveillance expert if they hoped to keep their feelings for each other on the down low. And if Jack wanted to play it that way, far be it from Fitz to miss an opportunity to give his friend grief about it.

Jack jumped into a lengthy explanation of the logistics with enthusiasm while Fitz eyed Thora. Was he the only one who thought she still looked green around the edges, or was that just his desire to lay around on the beach talking?

Apparently everyone was cool with her insistence that she was okay. Thora perked up long enough to sip a Sprite through two cocktail straws, and Lilah impressively drained her dark beer in record time as they got caught up on the details. The race was on.

But continuing to crush on Lilah was not. Thora begged off dinner, and both girls retreated to their room with the promise of seeing them mañana, leaving the men at loose ends. Jack dragged Fitz to his house on the other side of the island from the resort, where Fitz caught up with the rest of his former teammates. The six of them seemed really happy to have landed on Duchess Island as co-owners of an excursion company. Crazy. Who busted their ass for an eternity to earn a spot on a SEAL team, only to give it up?

Of course, the scenery was a huge draw.

The next morning, Fitz left his stuff in the stowaway compartment on the boat and followed Jack from the resort dock where they’d secured the rental. He’d slept like a rock, as he always did when he wasn’t deployed, about to be deployed or just off the plane from being deployed. Which meant he slept like crap most of the time.

Jack had questioned his sanity when Fitz said he’d rather sleep on the boat than the couch in Hyland’s living room. The lull of the boat on the water had been nice. Serene.

He’d need all his energy today. Apparently. The beach lining the front of the resort teemed with people, most wearing numbers pinned to their shirts. “I’m guessing we have to register somewhere?”

Jack nodded, his gaze sweeping the crowd. “Yeah, let me find the girls. Teams have to register together.”

He followed Jack to what must have been a predesignated spot. Lilah and Thora waited patiently, talking to each other instead of being head down in their phones, a quality he distinctly appreciated. There was nothing worse than meeting an interesting woman who immediately exhibited near obsessive-compulsive disorder by constantly checking her phone.

Fitz liked real conversations. The more attention you paid to a woman, the easier you could figure out what turned her on, a prerequisite for a hot encounter between the sheets. Which was why he found Lilah such a rush—he could not gauge where she’d veer next in the conversation, and it was fun to let her take him along for the ride while he soaked up little tidbits of information about her.

“Still on for this?” Fitz murmured to Lilah, taking the opportunity to lean in close so she could hear him over the squawk of a loudspeaker and the crowd’s dull roar.

Very nice. She smelled like green apples and a light, clean floral number that he’d definitely not mind smelling on his own shirt later, as would inevitably happen if he got his arms around her.

“Yep. All ready to go,” she said. Except she was twisting a braided silver band around her middle finger. Again and again. Her anxiety level was high, despite the small smile on her face. Because of him?

Back off, moron. “Let me get your bag.”

Good. Occupy his hands. Smart.

They reached for it at the same time and their arms bumped, which naturally made him glance up. Bad plan. Her lips were scarcely four inches from his and she wasn’t moving away.