Reading Online Novel

SEAL the Deal(18)



Lacey smiled, tempted. He did say that he was buying, she considered, her thoughts drifting to her bleak checking account and the dry pouch of Easy Mac awaiting her in Maeve’s kitchen cabinet. She relented too easily. “Okay.”

“Great. We’ll drop off your car at your place, and go from there.”

She couldn’t help noticing his take-charge attitude. “You have a knack for talking people into things. You’d be a good lawyer.”

“Who says I’m not a lawyer? The Navy’s got enough on staff.”

“I say. My mom’s a corporate finance lawyer. I know a lawyer when I see one. Besides, lawyers don’t have those.” She gave a slight nod at his arms.

“Those what?”

Lacey felt a surge of boldness, a sudden need to touch him, and reached out to lightly trace her hands along his upper arms. The damn things were like tree trunks, as hard and thick as she had remembered. Her body temperature rose by ten degrees. “These. You can’t get arms like this pushing papers or sitting in court all day. I don’t know what you do for the Navy, but you’re no lawyer.”

Feeling his biceps constrict under her fingertips, her eyes widened. Hunger flashed momentarily in his eyes, but then just as quickly, the spark disappeared and he patted her on the shoulder.

“Well, you’ll just have to control yourself. We’re just friends, remember?” He winked. “I’ll follow you back to your place. Hurry up. I’m hungry.”

“Me, too,” Lacey answered quietly. He had no idea what she was hungry for.

Or maybe he did.

***

They found themselves lingering, taking too long to order, to eat, to sip the last of the bottle of wine Mick had ordered. Lacey took a long look at the label before the waiter took it away so that she could recommend it to Maeve when she got home.

Under the blurring effects of a French Pinot, Lacey had to keep reminding herself to steer clear of funerals or the late Dr. Baker as a topic of conversation. Surprisingly, it wasn’t that difficult. He was fascinating, she thought as she comfortably rested her head on her hand and gazed at him.

Of course, everything was more fascinating after sharing a bottle of wine.

“So do you like teaching?” she asked as her coffee arrived.

Mick passed her the cream. “I’m hoping it will grow on me. I’m a SEAL. I like work that’s a bit more physical.”

Lacey couldn’t resist sending a discerning gaze across his impressive shoulders. Yeah, I’ll bet, she thought.

He continued, obviously energized by talking about his preferred job. “SCUBA, parachuting, hand-to-hand combat. SEALs have the best training out there, and I’m not exactly putting it to use here.” He gave an almost imperceptible stretch that broadened his chest even more.

Lacey’s mouth watered.

“And I know it sounds crazy, but I miss the risk.” He paused, sending a nod of thanks to the waiter as he took away his dish. “So how about you? Why real estate?”

“Oh, I just love the risk, too,” she joked, tossing his own words back at him. “I never know when a seller might have a Doberman that they failed to tell me about. And there’s the physical challenge. When I show a townhouse, there’s a lot of stair climbing involved.”

“Climbing stairs.” Mick glanced downward. “So that’s how you keep those great legs in shape.”

Lacey fought the blush that was creeping up her neck. “Seriously, though, I don’t know why I ended up in real estate. I’ve barely been at it a year now. I think it’s the only career I hadn’t tried.” She sighed, suddenly feeling pathetic sitting next to a man who had done so much in his career. Sort of like how she felt sitting next to her sister, come to think of it.

“Are you liking it?”

“Real estate? I like some parts of it. People sell or buy homes when there’s something major going on. I like being there to help them through it. Job changes, marriage, babies, d—” Lacey cut herself short from saying death, remembering where she and Mick had met. “d—divorce,” she finished quickly.

“So you’re a people person.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Unfortunately, I’m discovering that I’m not the best salesperson, and that’s what it really takes to succeed. I attract the ‘lookie-loos’—the people who just like looking, but never buy. I probably rack up a thousand miles a week just driving people from house to house. What I need are more sellers. That’s where the money is.” She reached for a packet of sugar just as he did, the touch between them only lasting an instant. Yet still, her breath caught. Her eyes locked on his, and she memorized them, the delicate pattern of his irises, a striking steel blue with indigo flecks that looked like turbulent waves on the sea.