Page 32 of Honk if You Love Real Men (Tempting SEALs 1)

He was easy to find—right at the bar where he said he’d be, his blond head towering over the lesser mortals standing nearby. And as Bree got another look at him she felt her anxiety slip away as a surge of pure, feminine appreciation took over.

Oh my.

All he wore was a white T-shirt, the logo of the company he worked for branded across his chest. That T-shirt clung to every previously noted muscle, the ones that hardened his chest and lower abdomen. Arms the size of ham hocks flexed as he lifted a drink to his mouth, his head swinging around.

Bree pasted a smile on her face. Their eyes met. If she’d been any other woman, the look he gave her would have made steam emerge from her panties. Instead it made her throat tighten in fear, made her smile wobble a bit.

“Hey there,” he said in a low voice as she came up to him.

“Hi,” she said,’ slinging her purse off her shoulders and placing it on a bar stool he’d saved for her. She smiled up at him in a wide, I’m-So-Happy-To-Be-Here smile. It’s just Trent, she reminded herself. The guy you used to pal around with. Your best friend from high school. Remember? Sure, you haven’t seen him in years, but it’s the same guy just the same.

Actually . . . it wasn’t.

She couldn’t believe how big he’d gotten. In a lot of places. She noted the blue jeans he wore clinging to his crotch. He looked like he worked hard for a living, his body honed, arms tan, fingers callused. He looked like a man, not the pubescent boy she remembered.

“God, Bree. It’s been—what—almost ten years?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“I can’t believe we ran into each other like that.”

“Actually,” she said, forcing her throat to work so she could swallow. “It wasn’t exactly an accident.”

“No?” he asked, looking surprised.

“No. I, um, sort of planned it.”

“Really?”

“Really.” And then she forced a fake and hopefully sultry smile to her face. “Look. Do you want to get out of here?”

She saw his pupils dilate a bit, saw the flash of something close to surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I mean go up to my room.”

The pupils flared again, so did his nostrils, the look on his face going from soft and friendly to hard and predatory.

“I mean, if you don’t have a girlfriend or anything.”

He didn’t say anything. Music began to play, a throbbing beat that instantly made people straighten up and voices get louder.

He leaned toward her. Bree told herself not to draw back. “Are you propositioning me?”

“Ahh . . . yeah I guess I am,” she admitted, telling herself not to look away.

But she did glance away, only to see him finger the rim of the drink he’d been sipping. “What’s the matter? You nostalgic for the good ol’ days?”

But she’d been expecting the question. “I’m a professional, Trent. I don’t have time for relationships. Nowadays sex is just a release for me. I try to fit it in when I can.” She gave him the practiced smile. “No pun intended. When I realized I was coming here on business, I thought I’d look you up to see if, you know, you might have some time for me.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Really,” she repeated, running her foot up his left leg. “We used to have some fun, you and I. I was hoping you’d want some more.”

Actually, he’d been her first love, but that been a long time ago.

She thought he might refuse, thought he might laugh in her face. Lord, she’d envisioned so many different reactions to her words.

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