Page 40 of Hot SEAL, Under Pressure

The man she remembered as Eric from the release forms snorted. “I can tell you, that was a fun shopping trip to the ladies’ lingerie aisle.”

“Yeah. Heads up. We might be banned from that store now,” Wyatt warned.

“You shouldn’t have fought with me about what to buy,” Flirt accused Wyatt.

“Who knew it would be such a contentious decision between boy shorts and bikinis.” Danny shook his head.

“Don’t forget the thongs.” Flirt grinned.

Stefan blew out a curse and shot Flirt a glare. “Shut up, man.”

Shelly let out a breathy laugh.

Being angry at any of these guys—even with their juvenile jokes—seemed out of the question. She was too grateful for the small comforts they’d delivered. She turned to Stefan, who was still scowling at Flirt.

“Thank you for this.” She held up the coffee and the bag. “For all of it.”

His attention moved from his teammate to her. Their eyes met and held. For the first time she noticed the color of his. Hazel with flecks of gold and a tinge of green that drew and held her attention.

For a moment he didn’t say a word. The silence lasted so long she wondered if something was wrong. Finally, he tipped his head in a nod.

“You’re welcome.” He cleared his throat and took the Starbucks bag from Flirt, glancing to see what else was inside. “We gotta eat and drink up so we can get back before anyone misses us.”

“There’s food too?” she asked, almost afraid to wish for it.

“Of course. Your wish is my command, my lady.” Flirt delivered a courtly bow to her.

Stefan grumbled something, but she didn’t hear it because he’d just unwrapped and held out a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich to her.

Next to the promise of that in her mouth—and in her belly—

nothing else mattered in the world.

ChapterSixteen

“What’s your advice? You’re the coach. How do I run for four miles while carryingthat? Help me.” The frustration in Shelly’s voice translated clearly.

Stefan glanced up from the pack the crew had given her for the run. “I am helping you.”

“It doesn’t look like it. It looks like you’re pilfering the supplies.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing? Yeah, sure. Because I’m going to have a lot of use for all this ammo with no gun.” He rolled his eyes and began to reach for what he’d unloaded from the pack and laid out on the tent’s floor.

She let out a huff, standing just outside the tent’s opening with her hand planted on one hip. They had her in combat boots and shorts for this challenge. Not exactly regulation, but he wasn’t surprised the producers wanted to show off the females’ legs.

Ratings. A word he hoped to never hear again once he walked away from this show—hopefully with wads of cash in his pocket.

He pulled his eyes away from Shelly’s long, tempting limbs and up to her pouty lips, although not before noticing how the crisp white T-shirt they’d given her with the cargo shorts accentuated her tits nicely.

“I’m repacking this for you. To redistribute the weight. It’ll be easier if the heavier stuff is near the top. Novices make the mistake of putting the heavy stuff at the bottom. Doing that will fuck you up after the first mile.”

“Oh. Okay. Thank you.”

He glanced at her feet. “Sit down and retie those boots.”

“Why?” she asked.

“You want them tight all the way up to the top to provide support for your ankles. It’s rough terrain. You’re going to step wrong out there. You don’t want a twisted ankle.”

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