To Dare A SEAL (Sin City SEALs 2)

“He cheated,” she said.

“Yeah. And not just when we were fighting. His football coach benched him for playing dirty.”

“So you decided you’d really show him. You’d become a Navy SEAL. The closest thing to a living, breathing superhero.” She stopped at a store window lined with shoes.

He raised his arm and rubbed the back of his neck. “Not many people know this,” he said, lifting his gaze from the floor. He looked at her from beneath his long lashes. “My mom was always reading romance novels. She’d hide them in the kitchen, pulling the paperbacks out to read a few pages while she waited for dinner to finish up in the oven. One time, when I ran to her in tears—I was still young, maybe six or seven—she told me about this character. He’d been a shrimp like me, the skinny kid who got picked on. But he defied the odds and became a Navy SEAL. After that day, I became obsessed with the SEAL teams. I learned everything I could and swore I’d do whatever it took to be one.”

Her eyes widened and her lips formed a smile. “You joined the SEALs to become a romance hero?”

“No, I joined to serve my country and prove to my brothers I could do anything I put my mind to,” he said, lowering his arm and placing both hands on his hips. His stance mirrored hers—challenging, ready to launch into battle. “Anything.”

Including her. He didn’t need to say the words. The bet hung in the air between them. She’d let her heart melt a little for the bullied boy pushed around by his brothers, but she wasn’t about to wave the white flag and surrender.

“You lost this round, Jack. Now it’s time to shop.” She dropped her hands to her sides and headed for the shoe store.

“Wait.” He wrapped fingers around her arm, drawing her back. And she couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t looking forward to picking out a pair of heels.

She pulled her arm free. “You lost the dare—”

“I know,” he said. “But I thought we were hunting for chocolate body paint.”

“That’s on the list.” She led the way into the store and headed to the section marked sale. “But first, I need to find a pair of heels to wear with my bridesmaid dress.”

If he could survive lying in position for twenty-four hours hidden from sight, waiting for a go from his commanding officer, he could manage shoe shopping. But could Natalie?

She stared at the display tables as if they were littered with live explosives. She picked up a strappy silver sandal with a low heel. “What do you think?”

“Looks great,” he said.

Please let her buy the first pair she sees.

A saleswoman appeared at Natalie’s side. “Can I help you?” She looked to be about twenty years his senior and either highly caffeinated or seriously into her job. “Oh, I love those sandals. And they’re twenty percent off. But we only have them in a size five.”

“I’m a seven,” Natalie said flatly as she placed the shoe back on the display table. “I’m looking for something that will match a pink bridesmaid dress designed for an insane ballerina. The dress stops at my ankle, or close to it. And something on sale would be best.”

The saleswoman blinked and then nodded. She walked over to the wall and picked up a high-heeled, shiny sandal with an intricate pattern. A zipper ran up the back. “These aren’t on sale, but they’re priced about the same as some of the marked down shoes. They’re also comfortable. Would you like to try them on?”

“Yes,” Natalie said quickly. She sounded eager to have their visit to the land of shoes end as soon as possible. She sat down on the leather bench as the saleswoman disappeared into the back.

Jack claimed the space beside her, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his thighs. “You know, I never would have intentionally lost”—hell, he couldn’t even say the word cheated—“to end up here.”

“I know,” she said, accepting the box from the saleswoman with a nod. “But I also know you want to win.”

He watched as she unceremoniously pulled the heels from the box. She kicked off her sandals and then slipped the new shoes on.

“They fit,” she announced. One glance at her impartial expression and he had a feeling that when it came to footwear, her excitement matched his—which was zero. He didn’t give a damn what she wore on her feet. He wasn’t drawn to her shoes, or, shit, her clothes. It was the woman beneath—the soft curves and the fiery, touch-me-if-you-dare attitude—that left him wanting to do a helluva lot more than watch her try on heels.

“Why are you fighting me?” he asked Natalie when the saleswoman left them and carried the box toward the cashier. “Last night—”

“I’m not right for you,” she said, standing up.

“After watching you shop for shoes, I think you’re wrong.” He followed her to the register. He waited until she’d paid the saleswoman and accepted her purchase.

“Just because we both dislike shoe shopping doesn’t make us a perfect match,” Natalie said drily.

No, but it was one more checkbox on his mental list of things he liked about her. Once they were outside the store, he spoke up. “The way you screamed my name through the bathroom door, I got the impression that you wanted me, too.”

“I’m not interested in black silk ties.” She thrust the shopping bag into his hands.