Page 30 of Honk if You Love Real Men (Tempting SEALs 1)

“Could work.”

“Want to give it a try?”

“Only until we succeed.”

Wanted: One Hot-Blooded Man

Pamela Britton

Chapter One

He hadn’t changed in years.

Breanna Miller peered out through the front windshield of her car, watching as Trent Walker stripped off his shirt, sinewy cords of muscle rippling along his rib cage as he bundled up his shirt and threw it aside. It had to be ninety degrees, the heat causing sweat to glisten in each crevice and valley that crossed his chest. He lifted a water jug that sat on the tailgate of his construction truck, the black one-ton backed up to an industrial building site, Trent unscrewing the lid of the jug and tossing water all over his blond head. It made him shiver, water droplets flying off his head, rivulets cascading down his tan body.

Bree almost went home right then.

What was she thinking? she asked herself for the thousandth time. What the hell had she been thinking, flying fifteen hundred miles to meet up with a man she hadn’t seen in ten years, one who probably wouldn’t remember her despite how close they’d been, much less remember her name?

He turned toward her car, his blue eyes homing in on her like he knew she watched him. Bree ducked down behind the steering wheel. Jeez-o-peets, that’d been close. Just what she needed, for Trent to spot her.

The knock on her window a moment later made her scream.

Trent stared down at her, his big body bent forward as he peered into the driver’s-side window, gorgeous blue eyes curious.

“Bree Miller?” he asked, his voice clearly audible in the dead silence of the car.

Oh. My. God

He’d recognized her.

“You ar

e Bree, aren’t you?”

How the hell had he recognized her? a voice screamed inside her head. Granted, her black hair was still the same, but she’d long since lost her glasses and twenty pounds.

Bree blindly fumbled at the window control, warm air hitting her face like she’d just stepped into a hothouse.

“Well, hi, Trent. Fancy meeting you here,” she said.

Lame. Stupid. Beyond dumb. Now he was going to ask—

“What are you doing here?”

She almost closed her eyes, almost flopped her head back. Instead she forced herself to think.

Think, Bree.

“Well, um, actually. I just flew in.” And boy are my arms tired. “I, ah, just happened to stop here to get my bearings.”

Liar, liar, liar.

“No kidding?”

“No kidding,” she echoed back.

Did he believe her? Bree searched those hazardous-to-your-health blue eyes and found no sign of mockery.

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