Page 80 of Honk if You Love Real Men (Tempting SEALs 1)

Win’s knees shook and her hands fumbled as she unlatched the four locks on her door, trying to steady her breathing, saying to herself over and over, Have mercy! Have mercy!—aware that she wasn’t looking her best that night.

The door opened and there he was—and he wasn’t looking all that hot himself. Vincent was wet as a sewer rat. The left side of his face was bruised. A bandage stretched across his cheek. His upper lip was swollen.

“I do not want to know,” Win said, grabbing his arm and hauling him inside, ripping off his coat and kissing him before he could say anything more.

“Watch the lip, baby,” he mumbled, crushing her against his chest, lifting her off the floor.

It was insanity. The dogs were barking their heads off in the bedroom. Win was laughing and crying and swooning and she loved this man and he was here.

Vincent placed her on her feet, stroked the sides of her face and smiled at her. He let his eyes travel down the front of her red cardigan and her lucky jammy pants, and quirked an eyebrow.

“Rewrite hell?”

She nodded. “Not really hell, though.”

“Good. Just left there.”

He cocked his head and looked over toward her closed bedroom door, which was being thumped from the inside. “Something you want to tell me?”

Win laughed, her mind clearing a bit, then she smacked him in the chest. “Why didn’t you tell me you were fixin’ to come back to the States? Lord, you burn my ass up!”

A crooked smile spread up the right side of his face. “My plans exactly, my little magnolia. But what’s going on in there?”

She walked to the bedroom door, and grabbed the handle. “Prepare yourself,” she warned, then pushed.

Vincent was nearly knocked backward by the big sheepdog mixed breed, and had to hold it aside by the collar in order to pet Lulu.

“Hey Fifi.” He picked up the poodle and rubbed her little pompadour. “Who’s your friend?”

Win walked back to him, relishing this moment. “As you well know, the poodle’s name is Lulu.” She enjoyed the sparkle in Vincent’s eye. “This, however, is Fifi.”

The big dog was now humping Vincent’s right leg, and he laughed. “Fifi’s a boy, Win.”

“Yep.”

“Just wanted to make sure you knew that.” He gently shook the dog off his leg, put Lulu on the floor and stared at Win. She looked good enough to eat in those drawstring pants and that little sweater and no bra and bare toes and flushed cheeks. “You know you got pencils stuck in your hair?”

She raised her arms to remove them, which allowed him to watch her breasts shift under the fuzzy knit. He could see her tight little nipples. Win then shook out those gorgeous curls and looked up at him with a seductive smile.

“The cabin is looking good,” she said.

“So are you.”

“There’s furniture in it now.”

“Is there a bed?”

“A big one.”

“How big’s the one in there?” He nodded toward the bedroom door.

“Barely big enough for you, I’m afraid.”

Vincent stepped close to her. “Don’t be afraid, Win. I’m going to ask you something and I want the truth.”

The tone of his voice startled her. She gazed up at him, nodded, and said, “Fine. Ask away.”

“Are you pregnant?”

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