Page 50 of Hot SEAL, Under Pressure

Rage had him inside a bubble of self-righteousness that was popped by the sound of Tasha’s voice.

He lifted his head and spotted her. She was smiling as usual next to Clay who was stone-faced as per his default expression.

Both were camera-ready and beautiful in matching billowy off-white outfits. They wore what Stefan would call, for lack of a better term,casual beach weddingattire. Probably designer.

He was rocking thebeach bumlook himself. Wrinkled cargo shorts. A T-shirt the show had provided that had his name printed on the back. Sneakers, because there was too much shit on this island for him to step on to go barefoot.

And unlike him and Shelly, he'd bet Clay and Tasha had a full breakfast in their bellies and were both on their second cup of Starbucks too. Not that they needed the fuel to just stand there and say a few sentences. They weren’t about to dive into the ocean and be pummeled by storm waves.

“Hello!” Tasha began with an enthusiasm that only angered Stefan further. “It’s challenge number two today and I know I’m excited to see how it all plays out. Clay? What about you?”

Tasha smiled and spun to face the SEAL next to her, who looked taken off guard by the question.

“Uh, yeah,” he replied, covering for his surprise over her obvious ad lib from the script. “So… today is the ocean swim. One mile in the surf that surrounds San Clemente Island.”

Tasha took over again to say, “Swimmers will start on the beach. When the horn sounds, they’ll run, or waddle in their fins, into the water and swim straight out to the first buoy. Then they’ll hang a right and swim to the second buoy. There they’ll turn back and make their way back toward the shore where they began.”

“The team comprised of the last swimmer back and her SEAL coach will be eliminated,” Clay finished.

“We’ll get started in just a few minutes once everyone is suited up. Contestants, are you ready for today’s challenge?” Tasha shouted.

“No,” Shelly breathed out barely audibly.

He glanced at her then reached out and covered her hands with his. “I’ll be right there with you.”

She met his gaze. For a second it felt as if they had a connection as her eyes and his locked. Then she snorted out a laugh. “Yeah. On theshore.”

She pulled her hand out from under his and used it to push off the low log as she stood.

Brushing her hands together to knock off the sand, she said, “If I die—or end up in the hospital in a coma—please send somebody to get my cat out of my apartment so she doesn’t starve to death. I only left her enough food and water for a week.”

He would have smiled at the morbid joke, but he didn’t think she was kidding.

“You’ll be fine,” he lied.

Her blue gaze met his again. “Let’s hope.”

After a big breath in and then out again she grabbed her fins and turned toward the water.

He followed, realizing he’d forgot to tell her she had to warm up. Getting her into the wetsuit had been challenging but it didn’t qualify as a warm-up.

“You need to get your muscles warm,” he said.

“How do I do that?”

“Do some jumping jacks.”

“Seriously?” she asked, looking like she thought he was joking.

“Seriously,” he confirmed.

“Okay.” She breathed in and started.

“Do about twenty of those then pull your knees up to your chest a few times and then stretch out your arms like this.” He demonstrated as she watched.

While she was busy doing his quick on the spot warm-up, he glanced behind him and saw emergency medical personnel gathered and tried not to think that a bad omen. They’d been here for the run too. Probably a mandate from the insurance company.

As the oppressively heavy, moisture laden air felt thick around him he turned back to stare at the water.

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