THE KISS OF A SEAL (3 page)

“Noted,” he said. Then, he had leaned forward and added. “But the heart is a muscle, and it needs to pump. It will not be stilled for long.”

She stared at him, not moving a muscle, like a deer caught in a truck’s headlights. She rubbed her hands together as if trying to wash herself of the thought. “True enough. Let’s, ah, get started. You have a long road ahead of you, if you’d like to reach your goal.”

“We…have a long road ahead,” he added as he walked alongside of her. “I will follow your lead.” And he did. One day turned in an entire month of humor, more honesty, and a white-hot love affair.

He surfaced, drawing in several long breaths. His heart still raced—she did that to him—and their first kiss confirmed something he’d known from their initial meeting: that Jessa Grainger was the most unique person he would ever meet.

Though his body had cooled in the water, his libido had not. He knew he’d always be hot for her.

He moved slowly, conserving his energy, treading water like a lazy man as he studied the sky. The stars twinkled down from above and for a moment he watched comet dust burning up on the atmosphere. As he saw more dust particles and chunks join the show, he wondered how many people wished on these phenomena; thinking them shooting stars, only to realize that the individual himself or herself needed to make a wish happen. It’s up to each person to make his or her dreams come true.

He set his sights on the shore and began to swim, lazily at first and then with determination. He would be well rested for tomorrow, because it was one more day with Jessa and another opportunity to achieve both his work and his personal goals.

‡

S
he woke with
a start. Sitting up in bed, she checked her surroundings.
Yeah, I had the presence of mind to come home.
The last time they’d snuck into the gym, both she and Link had barely escaped before her boss, Navy Consultant Rick Jaritt arrived. Talk about an adrenaline rush.

Jessa threw back the covers, peeled off her t-shirt—highlighting The Who, a throwback from her concert tour collegiate days—and dropped it in the dirty laundry on the way to the tub. Turning the facets on high, she went to the sink, brushed her teeth and washed her face, watching the steam gather on the mirror until it obscured her view. Then, she headed for the tub, turned off the taps, dropped in a few drops of Ylang Ylang, and slowly immersed herself in the steamy concoction.

Her body relaxed in stages, the smell of the essence easing through her barriers until she was back in the moment with him…Lincoln. Did he know what he did to her? They had been together for only four weeks; and yet, she could count every joyful second and recite every happy moment as if it was happening right now. Never in her life had she felt such an encompassing passion or felt so cherished.

She lifted the soap and slicked it over her arms and chest, lingering on her nipples. Slowly, she moved it down the valley between her breasts until it was between her legs, sighing as the silky soap caressed the sensitive flesh.

His image came into her mind unbidden and she rolled her shoulders pushing her further into the milky depths of the hot water. As her nipples touched the wetness, she let out a whoosh of air and gave herself over to the sensations.

“Lincoln,” she whispered, biting the edge of her lip. “Yes.” Her hands, aided by the slick soap, incited her and she moved beneath the surface of the water, sloshing several waves over the lip of the tub.

She didn’t care. She was too caught up in the need to find release. Her hands moved over her breasts cupping and rubbing the sudsy residue of soap into her flesh until she stood on the pinnacle of her passion. She tottered there, enjoying the sensations and then she leapt off. Bringing her completion and several smaller jolts of satisfaction to leave her grinning in a cooling tub of scented water.

The phone ringing in the bedroom had her moving quickly, grabbing a towel along the way as she ran for the screaming phone. Lifting it up in one motion, she answered, “Yes. Grainger.”

“Jess,” said the voice on the other end.

Gooseflesh rose on her arms. “Scott.” A chill swept her body and she tried in earnest to warm herself by pulling the towel over her wet flesh. “Hello.” It did nothing to ease her discomfort; for here he was, calling her, and reminding her of his presence.

“Hi, Jessie. Doing ok?”

She swallowed a lump in her throat. She hated being called Jessie or Jess; she was and always would be…Jessa. “I’m okay.” And that’s all he ever wanted to know. The unwritten rules of their relationship stated that she could never complain, cry, or get mad. Instead, she was the trooper who would fall in line with his demands. Why couldn’t she take the chance and share actual feelings with him? And, why didn’t he ever ask?

“Listen, I’m coming in this evening. Catching the C-17 from Washington DC. Can you pick me up at Miramar?” His voice was flat, emotionless, like the individual himself.

“What time?”

“ETA is 1900.” His phone clicked off before he heard her reply, assuming she would drop everything. Typical, Goody! He said what he had to and nothing more. Not even, ‘see you later, Babe,’ or ‘looking forward to it, Jessa.’ Or, the one she always waited to hear, but never came, ‘I miss you’ or ‘I love you.’

She took the phone away from her ear and stared at it. She had to tell him. There was no knowing how long Scott would be home, but she had waited until now, to tell him in person. Sending a ‘Dear John’ letter while on deployment had seemed the coward’s approach to her unhappiness. She considered herself more brave and forthright than that. Today was her first step toward freedom.

Checking the clock on the way, it was 0700—seven in the morning—and she had twelve hours to hone her discussion. This wasn’t much time, but how long would it take to say, “I cannot marry you. We need to break up.”

Wadding the towel up, she tossed it into the laundry hamper and walked purposefully to her closet. Donning her favorite workout gear, complete with red-leather trimmed cross-trainers, she felt ready to face her opponent. Closing the door of the closet, she spied the picture on the dresser.

She walked over to it and picked it up. The memory of that day flashed through her mind. They had both finished their degrees. She was waiting to hear from several open work positions and he was leaving for Navy boot camp the next day. Being friends throughout their time at Northeastern had allowed them both to help each other through some tough times with family, friends, and lovers. They’d never crossed that line until that night. The minute they did, it had felt…comfortable and safe. Maybe that was what both of them had wanted, something to hold on to as an anchor of sorts. Did that mean that they were supposed to marry and build a life together based on their mutual appreciation of what…something that held them down like a paperweight?

Her stomach rolled. She ran to the bathroom and just made it in time to throw up in the toilet. Leaning her head against the cold porcelain of the tank, she admitted that she was nervous. She did feel like she had betrayed Scott by being with someone else. But could he blame her? He had only been deployed for six months, but it had been three and a half years since they last made love. That couldn’t be normal, could it?

Heck! She’d even switched from daily birth control to a patch, because she didn’t want to bother herself by thinking about her lack of interaction each and every day.

She hauled herself to her feet and flushed the toilet. After washing her hands and face, and brushing her teeth, she was definitely feeling better, more human.

Grabbing her purse and keys, she left the apartment, set the bolt in place, and went down the three flights of stairs to her car. Pressing the button, she let herself into her Mustang and started the engine. The sound of it roaring to life was comforting. She’d bought this beauty and it had traveled around the country with her, bringing her untold joys.

Pushing the button, she lowered the canvas top and welcomed the sunlight in to warm her brunette and red locks. Most people considered her auburn, another redhead with a flare for passion, but she was a brunette, too. Brunettes were more even-tempered than most considered; they weighed the facts and either fixed or tossed what was lacking. She was the best of both worlds and loved it!

Pulling out of the parking space and driving through a series of side roads, she bypassed traffic and only had to pull onto Orange Avenue for a minute or two. Renting in Coronado had saved her a mint, especially when she lived in a multi-floor walk-up. She was a fitness instructor; she wasn’t scared of stairs or extra exercise.

She pulled her car into the parking lot, and doubled-back to the coffee hut for a double-hit of espresso in her latte. Caffeine was her favorite vice. Okay, next to Lincoln. Just the image of him made parts of her body clench in delight. She could hardly wait to see him later, to tease him and touch him after hours. The one thing she would never do was distract him during the day as he trained for one of the biggest fights of his life. She would move heaven and earth to help him reach his goal.

‡

“W
ake-y, wake-y, lover
boy!” said SO-1 Adam Ward.

Lincoln wanted to punch his roommate in the gut. He still had an hour before he needed to be up. “Seriously, dude, I’ve got at least sixty left.”

“Tough ta-tas. You promised to go over my language test with me.” Ward sat down on Link’s bed and bounced until Lincoln sat up. “Did we misfire? I noticed your stuff is, ah, wet. Or, was there someone special keeping you up late?” He made kiss-y sounds.

“Misfire? Gross, man.” Lincoln tossed back the covers. “I went for a swim last night.” His roommate, though a good friend, would be the last person he told of his love for Jessa. Anything precious like that, a smart SEAL kept under his hat until it was all locked up. In his case, he wanted it signed, dated, and filed, too, before the rest of the world knew.

“Riiiiiiiiiigggggght!” said Ward with a wink. “A swim. I get it. Keep me in the dark, or so you think.” With one finger he touched his heart and his head.

“If it will shut you up. I’ll test you. Give me the damn pages.” Lincoln rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and took the proffered pages from his buddy. He’d been in the throws of the hottest wet dream and finishing it would have been a helluva lot nicer than listening to Ward’s raspy voice or looking at his ugly mug. “Man, you’re breath smells like fish. What have you been eating?”

“Canned salmon.” Ward leaned forward. He breathed heavily toward Lincoln. “Brain food.”

“Uck! Stop that!” Waving a hand in front of his face, Lincoln made the executive decision to put some distance between them by pushing his Teammate off the bed. “You have got to stop reading those nutrition magazines and taking every article’s advice to heart.”

“I just want to be all that I can…” The man landed on the floor with a thud. “Nice. I just ironed these.”

“And…you could eat off this floor,” said Lincoln who had moped it last night before he’d gone to bed. Since the guys down the hall grew their own breed of cockroach, the rest of the building inhabitants were not safe. Not that any of them were newbies, but inspections came at the oddest times now to prevent a repeat of the growth, and these quarters sparkled.

Ward sat on his own bunk. “Shoot.”

Lincoln’s eyes scanned over the page. “This is in German. I thought you were taking Spanish.”

“I am. I’m taking both.” Ward’s hands were spread wide. “What?

Rolling his eyes back in his head, Lincoln put his head on the pillow. “I can help you with Spanish, Arabic, French, and some African dialects, man, but you’re on your own with the German.” He frowned at the sheet. “Why do you need German? It’s a freaking ally.”

Ward shrugged. “My mother spoke it, and I need more languages under my belt. Can’t you just try?”

Lincoln nodded. “Okay. Here we go…”

His foray into
the land of languages had been somewhat enlightening. Going the extra mile for a Teammate was a no-brainer. But, it had taken a chunk of time away from other tasks. Important ones.