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

  That sounded like an invitation for something she shouldn’t be doing with her boss.

  “I think I’ll see Gus home and make an early night of it. I’m familiar with a wide range of vessels, so it’s not necessary, but I am concerned about the size of your crew.”

  “How’s that?”

  “A vessel that size should have a ship’s mechanic on board.”

  “I’ve got that covered. Donald is good with a wrench as well. We know the Pendragon inside and out.”

  “Really? I’m surprised you don’t know how to pilot her.”

  “Oh, we’re both licensed captains.”

  She scrunched her brow. “Now I’m confused. Why do you need me?”

  “Like you said. Three is a lean number. We need a third to stay topside while we dive. You don’t dive, do you?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  “Even better. You don’t mind if we use you for dive support? Do you know how to use compressors to fill the tanks?”

  “Actually, I don’t. There’s usually ancillary staff for stuff like that, but I can learn.”

  He nodded. “Good. That helps out. Would you be interested in filling in as a support diver if needed?”

  “You’re the boss. Just tell me what you need.”

  “I need a captain, but the more you can help out the better for Donald and I. It’ll allow one of us to stay topside during some of the discovery dives.”

  This job kept getting more and more interesting.

  Chapter 4

  Brent

  The operation was back on, with a surprising new twist. Brent had to be insane hiring a chick, but Gus assured him Brie had the chops to pull it off. Brie didn’t accept his invitation to come back to the boat for the night, which while disappointing was probably wise. Too many dark, delicious, and inappropriate things tumbled in his head.

  Things he wanted to do to the brunette.

  Things no boss should ever do to an employee.

  A weird energy flowed between them. The aftershocks of her brief touch still echoed in his blood. He kept staring at his hand, certain he should see something of her branded there. The desire to touch her was overwhelming. He had to know.

  Would that spark happen again?

  He was screwed, because, after verifying her credentials, something he would do before bed, she would be his employee. Any shenanigans would be strictly off limits.

  He watched her go, paid the tab, and called Donald to give him the good news.

  “Say that again?” Donald’s voice slurred over the phone.

  His pre-departure rituals were legendary and involved strip clubs, lots of booze, a ream of one-dollar bills, and cash exchanged for sex; the dirtier the better.

  “Where are you?” More importantly, would Brent need to make an extraction?

  “The Twisted Knot.”

  “Do I need to come get you?”

  Some of Donald’s benders could get out of hand.

  “Naw, I’m actually done here. No one is striking my fancy. Now tell me again how Gus isn’t coming with us? You can’t let just anyone—”

  “She’s agreed to sign the NDA. Don’t worry. It’s all good.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes, it is, and don’t get any ideas about Brie. She works for us. That means hands off.”

  “You’re putting a chick on the boat for God knows how many weeks and you’re saying I can’t touch?”

  If anyone touched Brie, it wouldn’t be Donald. Brent loved his friend like a brother, but knew how Donald treated women. Brie didn’t deserve that. Besides, he saw her first. That gave him claim to anything that might happen.

  “You know the hell that would cause.” He tried to tone down the possessiveness in his voice. Hopefully, Donald was too drunk to notice. “Come on, don’t be that guy.”

  “Tell me she’s fat and ugly with wrinkly skin and a toothless grin,” Donald joked.

  “I’ll see you when you get here.”

  He ended the call and opened his laptop. Gus might recommend Brie, but Brent would do his due diligence. Too much was at stake. An hour later, the printer spit out a contract.

  * * *

  Brent woke early to receive the last of the scheduled deliveries. There wasn't much to bring on board as he and Donald had stocked the boat over the past few days in preparation for the trip. There were, however, always last-minute things that came up, and he preferred loading produce the day of departure to keep it as fresh as possible.

  Despite Donald's promise to head back from the strip club, Donald wasn't in his bunk. Must’ve found something worth blowing his wad on after all.

  Brent stood on the bow of the Pendragon, anxiously staring down the dock, wondering if Donald would show at all. He couldn't do this without his best friend.

  Eager to push off, nerves had him double-checking everything. A decade of tedious research and years of negotiations to establish salvage rights all culminated in this moment.

  It was time. Time to see if it had all been worth it. If his research panned out, he would be sitting on a fortune.

  No sign of Donald, but the sexy brunette sauntered down the dock. Dressed in jeans and a loose-fitting tee-shirt, she carried a duffle bag over her right shoulder and carried a bag of scuba gear in her left hand. When she noticed him, she gave a little wave of her fingers.

  The sudden tightening in his chest surprised him, but not nearly as much as the twisting of his gut. He took in a deep breath. Was he nervous? This wasn't the take-her-below-and-rip-her-clothes-off kind of feeling. He was genuinely looking forward to getting to know the brunette, and hoped she felt the same.

  Her wavy hair bounced with her light step and her smile brought an answering grin to his face. There was a lightness about her which filled him with a sense of joy. It was as if the entire sky brightened in her presence.

  She marched up to the Pendragon and stared at the seventy-foot research vessel, taking it in from bow to stern. It wasn't a luxury yacht. Would she be disappointed?

  Her expression displayed inquisitiveness and she gave a grudging nod. He didn’t know what that meant.

  "Permission to come aboard?" Her light, lilting voice carried over the early morning calm blanketing the harbor.

  "Granted." He rushed from the bow to the gangway to welcome her on board. "You're early."

  She was a good half hour early.

  "My father always said, Early is on time and on time is late. Late is beyond rude, and never keep your boss waiting. Good to see you, boss.” She thrust out her hand.

  "You can call me Brent." He rubbed his hand on his jeans, wiping off the sudden sweat, and took her hand. That zing was there, although not as pronounced as last night. "It's Brent Calloway. I don't think we exchanged full names last night."

  "Well, nice to formally meet you, Brent Calloway. I’m Brie Hamilton.” She glanced toward the bow. "Did you name her?"

  "I thought it was fitting."

  "After Arthur Pendragon, I presume?"

  "Of course. He was the greatest treasure seeker of all time.”

  "When do I get to know what we're doing?"

  "How about I give you a tour and make sure you’re comfortable with the ship. Then we can sit down, sign contracts, and go over the NDA. I want to make sure you’re certain you can captain the Pendragon.”

  "Oh, this is nothing. I learned on a ship not much different from this. Don't worry. This chick is fully capable of being your captain." The corner of her grin tilted and her eyes flashed with mischief.

  He deserved the ribbing. It had been overly sexist, but old habits died hard. There simply weren’t many commercial boat captains who were female. If he wasn’t desperate to see what the storm may have uncovered beneath the shifting sands, he would probably wait. As it was, he was itching to get out there.

  Desperation drove him to rely on Gus’s word that this woman’s skill ran true. The research from last night confirmed her credentials. He would trust Gus.

&nb
sp; He rubbed his hand through his hair. "Yeah, about that. Not my smoothest moment.”

  "Let's call it what it was." She propped her hand on her hip and cocked it forward.

  "And that is?" He couldn’t wait to hear what she had to say.

  “It was a royal dick-wad kind of move."

  He laughed. "Okay. I deserve that. In my defense..."

  "You don't get a defense. There aren't that many women who do this job. I've heard it a thousand times and frankly, it's annoying."

  "Well, then allow me to apologize for being a sexist prick."

  "Now we're getting somewhere." She looked around but didn't make a move to explore his boat. He appreciated the respect that hinted at.

  "If I ask to help with your bag, will that get me thrown in the dog house for sexist pigs? Or will I be safe with the gallant gentlemen? I don’t believe chivalry is dead."

  She slung the duffle off her shoulder and gave it to him. "You may not be a total loss."

  He headed to a door. “Look, I even open doors for women.”

  “How gallant. Arthur would be proud.”

  They went below deck.

  “My cabin is in the bow.” He thumped on the door to Donald’s cabin as he headed aft. “This is Donald’s. The rest of the crew quarters are back here.”

  He opened the door to one of the remaining cabins. The Pendragon had accommodations for ten, with six cabins. He had the largest, what was generally reserved for the captain. It had a full-sized bed, a desk, and cabinets for his stuff. As the financier of the operation, he didn’t feel guilty taking his pick. Donald had a cabin somewhat smaller, with a twin bed, desk, and cabinets to stow his gear. Brie’s cabin was designed for two people and had a set of bunks. There was a tiny excuse of a desk, and the requisite cabinets to store her gear inside. She packed light and shouldn’t have a problem.

  “The other cabins are identical. You can keep this one or take one of the others.” He tossed her duffle on the lower bunk.

  “This is fine.” She peered into the cramped space and sniffed. “Doesn’t reek. That’s good.”

  “Lavatory is back here. You’ll be sharing with Donald. I have a private lavatory in my cabin.”

  “You know a truly gallant man would give the best accommodations to the lady.”

  He stopped short, the fine hairs on his neck bristling. When he turned around, he relaxed at the smirk on her face. “I’m not that gallant.”

  “It was worth a shot,” she said with a shrug.

  “I suppose it was. Now, any chance you cook?”

  “I am not horrible, but if you’re expecting elegant cuisine you’re barking up the wrong tree. And technically, you didn’t hire me to cook.” She cocked her head. “You better not ask if I do the dishes, wash the clothes, or clean.”

  “I wouldn’t dare, but you’re expected to clean up after yourself.”

  He was peculiarly conscious of everything about her, how close she stood to him, how near her hand strayed to his, whether her arm brushed against his by accident or intent. Her perfume was lilac and rose; the uniquely feminine scent had him taking deep breaths. He couldn’t get enough. Maddening thoughts raced through his head as he desperately tried to tone down his body’s innate response to a beautiful woman.

  “Just so we’re on the same page.” She tilted her head. “I’m not your maid.”

  There was that static again, a crackling in the air between them. It intensified in the close quarters, thickened the air, and made it difficult to take a full breath. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck lifted, and he consciously kept as much space between them as he could in the tight quarters. Because if they did touch, the air would sizzle and he wouldn’t be responsible for what came next.

  “Hun, we’re on the same page, and for the record I’m a fabulous cook, but Donald is the gourmet. There is one rule on board.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “He who cooks does not do the dishes. So, unless you’re planning on cooking all the meals, there will be suds in your future. We split the general tasks down the middle, or rather in thirds. Some degree of ship’s maintenance will fall on your shoulders.” While they spoke, he took her on a quick tour of the galley, crew rest area, and storage areas.

  “That’s more than fair.” She gave a nod of agreement. “On the yachts, our roles were very strict, but then we had a full ship’s complement to handle all the cooking, cleaning, and service needs.”

  “Come.” He took her to the bridge.

  There was no reason to sign any contracts if she couldn’t actually do the job. On the bridge, she examined the controls, demonstrating a sense of long-term familiarity.

  “It’s a beautiful boat,” she finally said. “I was expecting something a little more decrepit.”

  “I am a little OCD when it comes to maintenance, and all of our systems are top of the line.”

  “I’m appreciating that. This will be easier than I imagined. I was thinking this was going to be similar to the gigs I worked with Gus.”

  “How do you know Gus exactly?”

  “Long story, but nothing complicated. He taught me to sail when I was a kid. Shared his love of the sea with me. As I grew up, and it became clear I was interested in doing what he did for a living, he showed me the steps I needed to take to become a commercial captain. Gus encouraged me. He never once told me I couldn’t do it because I was a girl.”

  “You’re never letting me live that down, are you?”

  Her liquid blue eyes held an impressive intelligence, and it was impossible not to be held captive by her serenity and perfection. There was an understated elegance about her, made all the more powerful because she didn’t flaunt her beauty. With sculpted cheekbones and a pert nose propped atop the most delectable lips, she was every man’s wet dream.

  Yet, he found himself mesmerized by a more powerful force. Her true beauty shone from the inside, complimenting an innate grace bestowed upon her, and she was smart as a whip. It was all he could do not to stutter and sound like a buffoon in her presence.

  “Never.” Her soft laughter filled his heart.

  “Is that it?”

  “Not really. I apprenticed with Gus. After I went to school and got my captain’s license, I worked for him for a couple of years. It was actually a boat not much different from this one. He showed me the ropes and introduced me to people he knew. Eventually, I signed on with Brighton Industries, and traded industrial ships for luxury yachts.”

  “Ah, that explains it.” He scratched his head.

  “Explains what?”

  “His faith in you.”

  Chapter 5

  Brie

  Professional distance.

  Those two words repeated over and over in Brie’s head. It was important to keep the mantra going, because Brent had her thoughts heading in directions they shouldn’t.

  Funny how he wasn’t the kind of man she usually found attractive, let alone fantasized about. For starters, she preferred blonds, not men with dark wavy hair. Despite all the stereotypes of blue-eyed blond hunks, blonds with coal-dark eyes were her go-to for starring roles in her midnight fantasies.

  She’d never dated a man with light colored eyes. They felt too shallow; as if the person behind them lacked in substance. However, Brent’s dark wavy hair and mesmerizing silvery-blue eyes had kept her tossing and turning through the night.

  He was not her type.

  So, why couldn’t she get thoughts of him out of her head? To make thing worse, he was her boss. The no-go zone around that was miles-wide.

  The only thing Brent had going for him might be his adventurous streak.

  She couldn’t keep her eyes off him and tried to be discrete, watching as he led her down the cramped corridors below deck. When he hefted her duffle, the flex of his biceps caught and held her eye. Her gaze roamed freely across his backside, when she was certain he wasn’t looking, and damn if the man didn’t know how to fill out a pair of jeans. She licked her lips, then rem
inded herself he was her boss.

  No touching allowed.

  Fingers snapped and the sudden noise cut off her sex-fueled thoughts.

  “Excuse me?” She gave a slow blink. He’d been asking a question.

  “I was asking about Gus.” His eyes twinkled.

  Had she been checking out his ass? Did he catch her? Shit, she didn’t know. A quick pivot allowed her to hide her face. Brent did not need to see her blush. She used the moment to take stock of the bridge, as if that was what she’d been doing all along.

  “This is no problem.” She gave a generalized wave around the bridge. “But I’ll want to see the engines.” She didn’t answer his question, because she had no idea what he’d been asking about Gus.

  “You want to what?”

  “I always take a look at the engine bay before committing to a job.”

  “You check out the engines on your fancy yachts?” The expression on his face said he didn’t believe her.

  “Always.” She lifted her chin. “Gus taught me that. Some might think expensive price tags make yachts immune to faulty engines, but you can learn a lot about an owner by the way they maintain their boat. Doesn’t matter the size, I won’t take out a non-seaworthy boat.”

  That’s right, keep the conversation on work. That should keep her mind off how well Brent filled out those jeans and how they cupped him equally well in the front as in the back.

  “Are we back to discussing size again?” He winked.

  She gave a hard swallow. “You wish.” But he’d definitely caught her checking out his package that time. No way to pretend that didn’t happen.

  His focused gaze could mean many things. She wasn’t sure if he enjoyed teasing her, or was testing her somehow. Some women might find the offhand, overtly sexual innuendoes offensive. Honestly, there were far too many people in the world who were offended at the smallest things.

  Despite her better judgement, she liked Brent. There was simply something about him, a solid confidence, an inflated ego he might possibly deserve, but also a genuine quality she hadn’t yet put her finger on. Instinct said she could trust him, which was important since she was signing on to be alone with him and his partner in the middle of the ocean for a couple of weeks.