Page 68 of Honk if You Love Real Men (Tempting SEALs 1)

At that moment, Win noticed that the wine—and the man—had stunted her ability to think straight. Her fingers began to tingle, her chest was warm, and she let her head loll back against the chaise cushion.

Suddenly, she emerged from her wine-and celibacy-induced fog to see it all clearly—she’d been set up! Artie wanted her to meet Vincent! He arranged this encounter to get her out of her writing slump!

She giggled, realizing she was so relaxed, it didn’t even piss her off, and let out a big sigh.

“Did Artie tell you I was coming up here?”

Vincent frowned a little and gave it a moment’s thought. “No.”

Win took a sip of the rich, dark wine. “The script I’m working on is supposed to be Max Mercy’s love story, did I mention that? Max meets his match—a beautiful and dangerous babe in serious trouble, of course—and the two of them go around kicking a lot of ass in exotic foreign locales and having a lot of sex.”

One corner of Vincent’s mouth twitched. “Sex and violence. It’s a Max Mercy movie all right.”

“Ah, but this time it’s the real deal.” Win smiled at him. “He falls in love.”

Vincent’s right eyebrow arched high in disbelief. “Max drops the L-bomb in this movie?”

Win laughed. “Hey, the bigger they are, the harder they fall.”

“So they say.”

Win watched him take a swig from his wineglass and settle comfortably in the chair. She decided to tell him of her dilemma. “The problem is, I’ve been suffering from a little writer’s block lately, so the story isn’t really where it should be.”

Vincent pondered that for a moment. “Are you blocked with the ass-kicking or the sex-having?”

“Both.”

He turned his big body in the chair toward her, his interest in both topics plain to see. When his shoulder touched the cushion, he grimaced in pain.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not as much as it did two weeks ago.”

“What happened to you?”

Vincent smiled and said, “A buddy of mine in an exotic foreign locale was having some serious trouble, so I had to go kick a lot of ass.”

“I see. Did you have any sex while you were out and about?”

“None whatsoever. But I did manage to take a bullet and fall from a second-story window ledge, which can screw up your life almost as much as sex.”

Win gasped. “Oh my God!”

“It’s getting better every day.”

She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the chair, leaning closer to Vincent. Her head was spinning and she quickly glanced at the wine bottle—empty. No wonder she was dizzy. She leaned forward on her elbows.

“Do you know how funny our names sound together—Winifred and Vincent? We sound like an old British couple with bad teeth and a country house.”

Vincent chuckled. “We both have excellent teeth, the country houses aren’t ours, and I love your imagination.” He adjusted his position and hissed in pain.

Win walked over to his chair, and sat right next to him. “Can I do anything for you?” she whispered.

All right. She knew that was stupid—she had no business flirting with a powerful stranger at a remote wilderness retreat. Any woman who did something that dumb got exactly what she deserved. At least that’s what she was hoping.

“As a matter of fact, you can.” Vincent put his wine down, and studied her carefully. His face was serene, strong and sexy as hell.

“Take off all your clothes, Winifred, and sit that incredible ass of yours down in that hot tub over there and wait for me to join you.” He flashed his white teeth at her. “I’m going to get another bottle of wine.”

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