Page 69 of Hot SEAL, Under Pressure

“What’s up with you?” She pinned him with a narrow-eyed stare.

“Why do you ask?”

“I can tell something’s wrong.” Suddenly, her expression clouded. Her perfectly shaped brows drew low. “Is it because ofwhat happened?”

She’d mouthed the final words silently as her gaze shifted to see who was around them. It reminded him that they were being listened to and filmed, which he seemed to have forgotten.

As miserable as he was, he didn’t want her to think that he regretted what had happened between them. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Last night—and this morning with her—were the sole bright spots in his current gloomy mood.

“No. God, no. It’s, uh, work.” He didn’t know much, but he could tell her even less than what he did know.

Everything the SEALs did was classified. But if they were going to be inthatregion, operational security on this mission would be even more critical.

“The team’s getting spun up,” she said as more of a statement than a question.

His brows shot high as much at the accuracy of her guess as her choice of wording.

“How do you know that term?” he asked, without answering her question directly.

Her gaze dropped away. “I’ve been watching old episodes of SEAL Team on television. I thought it might help with the show.”

Still looking embarrassed by her confession, she finally brought her gaze back to meet his.

He managed a small smile. “Anything for the show, right?”

Anything—including watching his brothers fly into harm’s way while he played commando for the cameras.

“You want to go with them,” she guessed correctly yet again.

He sighed. “Doesn’t matter because I can’t. Can I?” he asked.

Could she pull off some miracle and get him out of his contract?

She shook her head. “Barring a physical injury that will take you out of the competition, you’re legally required to participate in every episode’s challenge until we get eliminated.”

He snorted. “For the first time since this clusterfuck started, I’m kind of hoping you lose.”

She narrowed her eyes as if she were trying to see inside him. Hell, maybe she could.

He’d tried to perk up. Fake it ’til you make it. But he wasn’t that good of an actor. If he were, he’d be living in a mansion in the Hollywood Hills instead of in the bachelor barracks in Coronado.

Shelly could see he was down in the dumps, which is probably why she looked so confused when she said, “I thought you wanted the prize money.”

“Some things are more important than money.” He let out a short, wry laugh when he realized the truth of that statement. Perhaps he was growing as a person.

“That’s very philosophical of you,” Shelly observed.

He tipped his head to the side. “Eh. I have my moments.”

She drew in a breath then glanced at the gun. “Would shooting the hell out of some paper men help cheer you up?”

He blew out a snort. “It couldn’t hurt.”

ChapterTwenty-Seven

“You think Marathon Barbie can shoot?” Shelly asked, eying the competition through the annoying safety glasses as the woman in question and her SEAL teammate strutted by.

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