Brent: Military Heroes (The One I Want Series Book 2) Read online

  Head lifted, the woman paused at the doorway and scanned the interior. After seeing who was inside, he thought she would run from the rough crowd, but the woman didn’t hesitate. With an effortless grace, she glided across the floor; an ethereal creature, she made a beeline for the bar.

  She picked her path with care, avoiding the occupied tables, and headed to a group of empty stools a few seats down from him and Gus. When her gaze met his, she smiled and it was like a choir of angels lifted in song. The soft cushions of her lips parted and her tiny pink tongue darted out. He couldn’t help the natural reaction of his body and adjusted his perch on the stool.

  What stunning lips.

  Perky and raspberry red, he debated his next move as all manner of filth ran through his mind.

  With a face cut right from the pages of a men’s magazine, all present tracked her passage. Even after she sat on the stool, all eyes remained glued to her stunning figure. If any were like him, they wondered what she might look like spread out on the cover of the annual swimsuit edition, or better yet, stretched out naked in bed.

  When she glanced at him, blue eyes like a calm summer sea gave a slow languid blink. Her wavy brown hair, cut short at the shoulders, shimmered despite the dim lighting of the bar. She gave her hair a casual flick and his heart fluttered. Her eyes narrowed as she peered through the dimly lit bar, staring directly at him, then a spark of recognition flew and a smile curved those cherry red lips. She slipped off her stool and came toward him.

  Feeling cockier than wise, he prepared to charm her into his bed where he could see how close his fantasy lived up to reality.

  If Gus’s heart issues ruined the chance of a lifetime, at least Brent could spend the night with this beauty wrapped around him as he listened to her breathy moans filling the sweltering night air.

  But she did not approach him. He was not the object of her attention at all. She stopped short, coming to stand beside Gus.

  “Gus!” She gave the fat bastard a hug and kissed Gus’s cheek. “How have you been?”

  What the hell?

  “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Gus beamed at the beauty. “It’s been over a year, Brie. Whatcha doing in Tampa?”

  “Relocating a client’s yacht. Just pulled into dock.”

  “Is that so?” Gus’s bleary eyes brightened and he sat up a little straighter.

  Brent peered around Gus, waiting for an introduction.

  The bartender brought over wine and set it down in front of the woman. Far too inquisitive, he checked out her tits with open-mouthed hunger. Brent wanted to lean over the counter and smack the prick for being such a flagrant asshole. There was a thin line separating admiration and flat out disrespect, one this guy crossed by miles.

  “You headed out soon?” Gus emptied his beer. This time, instead of letting his belch rip, he covered his mouth, and let the burp slip out quietly.

  “Nope.” She glanced at Brent, but made no attempt to introduce herself.

  Gus, being the ass he was, didn’t make introductions. Regardless, Brent held eye contact and gave her a tip of his head. In a second, he would take care of Gus’s oversight. She stared at Brent with curiosity flickering in the depths of her baby blues, but she dismissed him, to continue her conversation with Gus.

  “I’ve got a couple weeks off.” She sipped from her drink. “Although, I may have to change that. Lost my on-time bonus with the storm.” She leaned close and placed her hand on Gus’s thigh. “And guess what?”

  Brent couldn’t keep his eyes off her delicate fingers and wondered what it might feel like to have her hands on him. He was starting to hate Gus.

  “What darling?” Gus ate up her attention.

  “You know the rig that capsized?” Her delicate voice rose in pitch.

  “It’s all over the news.” Gus gave a vigorous shake of his head. “They said it could’ve been the worst spill of the century if not for the guys who capped it before it tipped.”

  “Well, those guys spent a week in a lifeboat and I picked them up.” Excitement lit her face with a rosy glow.

  “You don’t say?” Gus leaned back and crossed his arms. “I’m impressed. Haven’t seen anything in the news about that, but I’m not surprised. You’re a real angel.”

  “I don’t know about that, and that rescue cost me my bonus.” She took another sip, peeked at Brent out of the corner of her eye, then focused back on Gus. “Know of any work?”

  “As a matter of fact…” Gus slapped his palm down on the bar. He turned to Brent. “Looks like I found you a captain.”

  Brent jerked, not expecting the conversation to head in that direction.

  “A chick?”

  The brunette gave a slow, disappointed shake of her head. “Yeah dick-wad, this fucking chick is a captain. Welcome to the twenty-first century, mate.”

  She certainly had the mouth of a sailor. Now why did that turn him on?

  “Look, I didn’t mean to offend—” He held up a hand.

  “Oh, you offended pretty damn well.” She gave him the back of her shoulder. Smooth and bronze from the sun, her flawless skin practically glowed.

  He leaned toward Gus. “Look, I need a captain with experience, not a—”

  “Not a what?” She turned back around, showing him how poorly he’d kept his voice down. “You don’t think girls can drive boats?”

  “It’s not a little boat, and yeah. I don’t need a chick driving a damn boat. I’ve got a real ship out there.”

  Gus giggled. It was an odd sound coming from such a large man. The laughter turned into a wheeze and evolved into a coughing fit. The brunette gave Brent a sideline glare as she smacked Gus on the back until he could breathe again.

  “You don’t look that good.” She thumped him again.

  The bartender brought Gus’s fifth beer over, but the girl picked up the glass and set it out of Gus’s reach.

  “He’s done for the night.” She stated, completely at ease taking control and speaking for Gus.

  “You took my beer, Brie.” Gus gave a little whine. “Give it back.”

  She peered into his eyes. “How many have you had?”

  “One or two?” Gus lied, but the chick wasn’t having it.

  She looked to the bartender who held up five fingers.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Pour him water and keep it coming. You’re drinking two glasses of water, then I’m taking you home. You still with Stella? Or did she leave your ass?”

  “Still with Stella,” Gus said with a grump. “She won’t leave me.”

  “Okay, give me your keys and we’ll get you home.”

  Gus tugged on Brent’s shirt. “Brie is your captain. If you really want to shove off in the morning, she’s your man.”

  “Not a man, Gus.” Her gaze cut to Brent, full of challenge rather than the curiosity he’d seen before. “I’m better than a man.”

  Well shit.

  Brent stepped into that wrong. Not to mention, there would be no twisting in the sheets with this chick, not after pissing her off in what could only be called an epic failure.

  But a chick? Gus couldn’t possibly suggest this slip of a girl had the chops, let alone the credentials and commercial license to captain his ship.

  Gus leaned over. “Brie’s an excellent captain, man. Seriously.”

  “I’m not operating a weekend charter, Gus. You’ve seen my ship.”

  “I have, and Brie can handle it. She’s a pro at yachts larger than your little research rig. I should know. I taught her.”

  He stepped around Gus and stood behind Brie. “Is that true?”

  “Depends? What’s it pay?”

  “Don’t you want to know how big it is?”

  Her eyes cut down to his crotch, then she slowly dragged her gaze back up his chest.

  “In my experience, it’s never good to ask a man how big something is if you want the truth. They exaggerate and I’m usually left unimpressed.”

  He raised a brow,
loving her spirit. This chick promised to be a challenge. It had been far too long since a woman excited him.

  “I’ve never failed to impress a woman.”

  “That remains to be seen.” She turned to Gus. “You ready to go home?”

  “I s’pose. You gonna work things out with Brent?”

  “Depends on whether he’s able to impress me. I still haven’t heard how much, how long, or how big.”

  Chapter 3

  Brie

  The arrogant bastard laughed at Brie’s comment. Perhaps he was surprised she had the balls to call him out on his sexist remarks? It would be interesting to test out that theory.

  “I’m sure it’s plenty big and long,” he said. “As for how much? That depends on what we’re discussing.”

  “We’re discussing a job, nothing more.” Did he just insinuate what she thought?

  “The job is two-thousand a week.”

  She leaned forward, trying to figure out what color his eyes were without being too obvious about it.

  He continued, “And for the record, I’ve never had to pay for what you’re thinking.”

  “What exactly do you think I’m thinking?” She scrunched her face, not sure how insulted she should be by that comment.

  To be fair, Brent was handsome. From the twinkle in his eyes to his gentle expressions, she loved the way his voice changed pitch. The deep reverberations skated across her skin, powerful and determined, when he tried to get a rise out of her. The smooth tones whispered along her nerves, calming her and giving the sense he was a man to be trusted. He challenged her, pushed her buttons, and wasn’t ashamed in the slightest by his sexist remarks. Most men lacked that kind of confidence, but he rocked it. Although, he should be ashamed of his antiquated views.

  He had insulted her, checked her out from crotch to tits, barely made eye contact, and yet she couldn’t stop looking into his mesmerizing eyes. Were they gray? Or blue? Or the rarest silver?

  Whatever color, they had a hypnotic quality, and she fought against getting lost in their depths. Too many promises simmered there and flirted with her desires, giving birth to fantasies she would never admit to having. It was a struggle to retain her anger toward him which made him eminently more dangerous, because he was the kind of man around whom bad decisions were made.

  “Do you want the job or not?” His eyes twinkled.

  There it was again, danger sparking. It made her think about things she shouldn’t, especially when negotiating a contract; like how his lips might move in a kiss, or how his hands might feel upon her skin as he traced the curves of her body.

  Or worse.

  An achy throb pulsed between her legs, at once unwelcome and entirely too enticing.

  She cleared her throat and closed her eyes, breaking the connection and the spell he wove. Giving a hard swallow, she schooled herself to remember he would soon be her boss.

  If the terms were good.

  If she accepted.

  Anything else would be off the table. Not that she had ever been lucky in love. For that reason alone, she should run. Far and fast wouldn’t be quick enough.

  But she wouldn’t.

  She wouldn’t because pride demanded she take Brent down a notch. His insults demanded a response, and she would show him exactly what a woman could do. But more importantly, she needed the money.

  She constantly ran up against stereotypes. Men refused to believe women could be successful in traditionally male-dominated jobs. Yet in the same breath, they refused to hold the door because the women’s liberation movement taught them doing so was wrong. She needed a man somewhere in the middle, and while she could hold her own damn door, it would be nice to have a man step up and be a gentleman without being intimidated by her strength.

  The sad truth was that true gentlemen no longer existed.

  She should refuse. She should walk away.

  Yet again, she wouldn’t.

  He was the one in a tight spot, at least if she understood the context, which gave her leverage.

  “Why aren’t you taking the job?” She turned to Gus.

  He pointed to his heart. “Stella made me see the doc about my pains. I’ve got a stress test in the morning and the doc said I might need a bypass.”

  “Oh Gus!” She fussed over him.

  Gus shooed her away. “It might be nothing, but I gotta do the test. If I don’t, Stella will leave me. Unfortunately, I was supposed to ship out with Brent in the morning.”

  “I see.” She had more than leverage. Brent was desperate.

  A good captain could make upwards of a hundred grand a year. At two-thousand a week, the pay Brent offered was nothing exorbitant, but more than fair.

  “Make it three-thousand,” she said, “and I’ll do it.”

  “Three-thousand!” Brent choked on his drink. “That’s highway robbery.”

  “Technically, I think the phrase should be high seas piracy, but I think that metaphor is wrong as well. Take it or leave it. I was looking forward to having two weeks off.” She very much needed the money, and had been dreading two weeks ashore. He didn’t need to know that, though. “If you find someone else, no skin off my back.”

  Brent’s eyes narrowed. “Seeing how short notice it is, and you haven’t seen my boat, why would you consider it?”

  “Consider it a favor for a friend. Gus can’t do it, and I’m willing to step in. But it’s short notice and you’d be inconveniencing me, so three thousand.” She thrust out her hand, curious to see what Brent would do.

  “Twenty-five hundred, two weeks guaranteed, each week after is three thousand. You work until the job is done.”

  “No end date?” She cocked a hip forward and pulled back her hand. “I’ve never had an open-ended contract before. What is it you do?” For that kind of money, it had to be good.

  “Oh, you’re going to love this.” Gus finished the second glass of water the bartender had brought.

  “Does it really matter?” Brent crossed his arms over his chest—a very broad, muscular chest. The veins of his forearms popped out under his skin.

  She almost licked her lips, but caught herself and pressed them into a hard line instead.

  “Is it legal?”

  “It’s legal, but time-sensitive and you’ll need to sign a non-disclosure agreement.”

  “An NDA?” That peaked her interest. “I take it you won’t tell me where we’re going until I sign?”

  “We’re headed to the Keys. The general destination isn’t a secret, but rather what happens next.”

  There weren’t many things requiring an NDA that involved the Keys. There were illegal things, but Gus wouldn’t do business with a drug dealer, which lead her to an alternate assumption. An area known for hurricanes, shipwrecks, and buried treasure, there were billions buried in the sand beneath the waves.

  “You’re a treasure hunter.”

  He uncrossed his arms and thrust out his hand.

  “Do we have a deal?”

  She had a lucrative job. Whether relocating yachts, or working on charters, her pay allowed for a comfortable life. The problem came in the debts her parents racked up, the cost of her brother’s college tuition, and the poor choices she made in men. Full bank accounts had been emptied after disastrous breakups. She’d been too trusting, or just plain too stupid. There was nothing she could do but move on, dragging a pile of debt along with her. Men were pricks. She didn’t trust any of them, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t work for one.

  Gus slurped his water while she gave Brent the eye.

  Which of them was most desperate?

  She had counted on that bonus to give a couple weeks relief from the demands of her job. It had been a long summer booked solid with charter gigs along with several relocations as hurricane season kicked into high gear. Normally, she relocated yachts away from Florida to safe harbors to the South this time of year, but fate brought her to Tampa and now this.

  “Deal.”

  As soon as their h
ands touched, electricity raced up her arm, lifting the fine hairs with the energy pulsing between them. His thumb rubbed over the back of her hand, tracing the delicate veins with an inquisitive touch. His grip tightened, not too hard, nor too soft. He held her with determination and tugged her toward him.

  “I guess we have a deal. You’re mine until the job is done.” His voice deepened and rumbled, sending a chill down her spine.

  She nearly combusted with the frisson of heat generated from his touch alone. What would it be like to have his lips pressed to hers, or better yet, tracing a determined path along her sensitive flesh?

  This promised to be a disaster.

  Brent didn’t let go when she tried jerking her hand free. He looked as surprised as she felt, and just when she was going to yank free, he let her go.

  Running a hand through his hair, he took a step back. “Pier Nine, eight sharp. The Pendragon pushes off at nine.”

  She rubbed at her hand and noticed him looking at his. Had he felt it too? Not that she would ever ask. Instead, she focused on business.

  “How many crew?”

  “Three.” He upended his drink and finished it.

  “Three?” She took another sip of her wine.

  “You, me, and my partner, Donald Talbot.”

  “You run a lean operation.”

  Her first thought was that he didn’t have the cash to waste on crew, but, other than his brief choking spell, he hadn’t blinked at offering twenty-five hundred a week, three thousand if they went beyond two weeks. Money wasn’t an issue. The NDA hinted at secrecy, and that was more than enough enticement. She was all on board. They were going treasure hunting.

  “You have yourself a captain, boss.”

  Her gear was stowed on Chastity’s Dream. The owner wouldn’t be coming until the day after tomorrow and she had her berth until then.

  “I’ll have the contract ready for you in the morning, as well as the NDA. Do you want to take a look at the Pendragon tonight?”