Pleasing Her SEAL

He sighed. “That’s because I’m good.”

Again...maybe. Not that he had any reason to lie to her about      paintball, but she had a suspicious nature. She tried to peer over his shoulder,      but it was roughly the size of a small tree and offered plenty of places for a      gal to dig in. His black T-shirt clung to him in all the right places, and black      and green paint streaked his face. The colors drew attention to the strong line      of his jaw and a really great pair of brown eyes.

She was staring.

Shoot.

“I saw boats.” She pointed to the lagoon over his shoulder.      “Two of those black inflatable dinghy things.”

He turned around, crossing his arms over his broad chest. That      move pulled the shirt tight. Since she was an equal-opportunity kind of gal, she      checked out his ass, too. Which was tight and firm, unlike hers. She definitely      needed to take up paintball.

He shrugged and pointed to the dinghy-less, bad-guy-less      lagoon. “There’s no one there now.”

“But there was.” She hated mysteries.

“It could be the Belizean police doing a routine drug check.      They patrol up and down the coastline, and we’re only a few miles offshore.”

That sounded feasible. On her last visit to Cancun, back when      she’d had vacation time, benefits and a nine-to-five job, she’d spotted      AK-47–toting Mexican police patrolling the beaches. The hotel had assured her      that was standard operating procedure, although she’d almost choked on her      margarita the first time she’d spotted the patrols. She stared at the camera in      her hands.

“I have photos,” she said.

“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you,” he pointed out. “But I’m      happy to look at anything you want to show me.”

That almost sounded like a double entendre, but he said the      words with a straight face, making it impossible to be sure. Instead, she      focused on her camera and—damn it—its trip to the ground hadn’t done it any      favors.

“The memory card’s gone. It must have popped out when I dropped      the camera.”

And flown over the edge, she decided a few minutes later, on      its way down, down, down for a tropical swim. Mason helped her look, but the      card was nowhere to be found. Of course, since she was searching for a teeny      piece of plastic in the great outdoors, her odds hadn’t been high to start      with.

“I’m thinking I owe you more than a short stack,” he said with      a grimace. “Now you’ve lost your pictures, too.”

This was where being prepared came in handy. “Not really. I had      the camera set up to do time-lapse, and all the shots should have been      transferred to my laptop if the Wi-Fi isn’t moving on island time.”

“Good to know,” he muttered, his eyes on the camera in her      hands. “What were you shooting?”

“Not what you were shooting.” When he gave her a lopsided grin,      she told him the truth. “Sunrise pictures. Romantic stuff for my wedding blog.      Brides will love having their pictures taken up here. I’m shadowing a wedding      later this week, and the bride already picked out this spot for her photos.      They’re a gorgeous couple.”

She whipped open her planner and flipped to the section where      she’d jotted down her notes for the beach wedding. There were certain shots she      definitely wanted to make sure she captured, and she did better with a list.

“This is my bride and groom. He’s a hottie. My blog readers      will love him.”

Mason took the groom’s picture from her. “This is your      guy?”

“Uh-huh.” She’d been in correspondence with Julieta, the bride,      more than once before she’d arrived. The Mrs. Guzman-to-be was a pretty blonde,      while her groom had the Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome part down. He rocked a white      linen suit in the photo Julieta had sent to give Maddie an idea of what they’d      be wearing and, if he showed up looking like that, her photos would be      outstanding. “What do you think?”