Page 23 of Hot SEAL, Under Pressure

“No, sir.” Swallowing hard, he sent this Miss Laurens, the bane of his existence, a glare. “I’d be happy to be on your show.”

His words didn’t match his tone. They didn’t match his expression either, he was sure.

He was pissed at being forced to do something he didn’t want to do. Enraged by the fear that rode him that if he didn’t do as told it could affect his career. Future promotions. Assignments.

He nearly vibrated with anger and by her reaction, she realized that too. There was no satisfaction or happiness in her. There was almost a look of fear.

Good. Fear he could handle. If she’d been gleeful over his loss and her victory, he didn’t know what he would have done.

“Here is the contract for you to review. I had the legal department on base look it over and they’re fine with it.” His commander pushed a stack of stapled pages toward him.

He grabbed the papers and leaned back, half to get farther from her, half so he could lean his elbows on the arms of the chair and stop his hands from shaking.

It was hard to focus when he was this angry, so he mostly skimmed the document and only pretended to read and understand the legal jargon.

But one clause stood out, big and bold. He reread the paragraph. He’d be paid one thousand dollars for every episode in which he appeared. And there was a cash prize of fifty-thousand dollars to be split by the members of the winning team.

He could win this thing. He could use that money to put a down payment on a house. He could even take a few thousand out to send his parents to Poland.

Winning this whole thing wasn’t out of the question. He was the best on the course. She’d said so herself. The question was who would he be partnered with?

If he could convince her, and the Navy as well, that it would be doubly good for recruitment if they paired him with a female sailor, his team would dominate the competition.

He’d seen the actresses and models they’d chosen for the other teams on the beach that morning. They looked real good but he doubted they’d get through day one of basic training, never mind BUD/S.

A little optimistic now, he glanced up. “Miss Laurens—”

“Please call me Shelly.”

Noted, but he didn’t call her anything as he asked, “Can I choose my own partner?”

“No.” Again she looked more uncomfortable than the question warranted.

Intriguing, but he was too annoyed with her answer to think much more about it.

“Who will I be partnered with?” he asked.

She paused for what felt like a long time. Finally she glanced first at the commander and then at him before saying, “Me.”

What the hell?

ChapterNine

Shelly was out of the building and glaring against the sun as she tried to remember where she’d parked her car when she heard the sound of footsteps pounding the sidewalk behind her.

“Hey! Wait up.”

Turning back, she saw her new SEAL partner jogging toward her. She drew in a breath and waited for him to get to her. During that time, she had the opportunity to plan her defense to the attack that was no doubt imminent.

The moment the muscle-bound man stopped in front of her, she said, “Look. I know you’re not happy. I’m not happy either. Believe me.”

His eyes pinned her with a glare. “So then do something about it. Aren’t you in charge?”

She let out a very unladylike snort. “I wish. I’m about as in charge as you are. I had nothing to do with this. I’m an unwilling participant too.”

When he still looked doubtful, she decided to put it in terms he’d understand.

“You have your commander. You have to do what he says. I have my executive producer. I do what she says or I could find myself out of a job and standing in the unemployment line. And good luck getting hired in this business once word spread I was let go.”

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