For the Love of a SEAL Read online

  Throttle to seventy percent. Generator on.

  Maybe he’d travel for pleasure someday.

  Headset on.

  One more sweep of the gauges, and he settled his hand on the throttle. His heart dropped into his stomach as the passenger door suddenly swung open and a leggy brunette vaulted into the seat beside him.

  Blake didn’t like surprises. When he found his voice again, disbelief swirled in an ever-tightening spiral of anger until he couldn’t hold it back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He whipped off his headset just in time to realize he was shouting.

  Tori flinched, but it didn’t stop her from continuing to buckle her lap belt before she turned what could only be described as frantic eyes on him. “You don’t understand. My job depends on getting this interview. My boss was quite clear. If you could just give me fifteen minutes of your time and a quote or two, I promise I’ll never set foot on your property again.”

  Blake scowled, his first inclination to toss her ass out, but something about her nervous demeanor made him hesitate. What kind of boss put that degree of pressure on a reporter to get a lousy interview? Last he looked, stories like his were all too common and not worth the paper they were printed on. And why send an unseasoned reporter, which he’d bet his right nut she was, to bear the wrath of men like him?

  A slightly embarrassed smile started in her eyes and traveled to those holy shit red lips, and she tossed her head, sending thick strands of silken waves over her shoulder. “I really need this job. I’d be so grateful—maybe I could return the favor sometime.”

  Bingo! I just bet she could. Blake’s gaze slid over her again, taking his sweet-ass time, noting the way she blushed and fidgeted, even as she made no move to retreat. Not that she’d used blatant sexuality to get her point across. Based on her aura of sweet innocence, Tori had no clue what lustful response her words had inspired. His Spidey-sense kicked into high gear. He got it. Her asshole boss had sent her because she was walking, talking temptation. So…who the hell was her boss? And what was his game? Did Tori realize the man had staked her out as bait? Was she a willing conspirator or a sacrificial lamb?

  All he had were questions, too damn many to answer now, while MacGyver and Travis waited on him. With no small effort, he tamped down his irritation, managing a nonchalant shrug that, hopefully, hid his curiosity.

  Blake reseated his headphones, grabbed another set and handed it to Tori, watching as she positioned it over her ears. “You should be able to hear me now.”

  Those damn dimples appeared, and she gave him a thumbs-up.

  “Like I said, I don’t do interviews, so you can ride along, but anything we talk about is strictly off the record. Agreed?”

  Her troubled eyes searched his face and held for several seconds, but she finally nodded.

  No doubt she was already hatching a plan she thought would get him to change his mind. Given enough incentive, he’d even let her believe it might work. He turned his head away from her as he gripped the throttle and the chopper lifted off.

  “Okay, hang on tight, Tori Michaels.” This was bound to get interesting.

  Chapter 2

  White-knuckled, heart-pounding, mind-numbing fear had a choke hold on her throat. Tori hated helicopters. She definitely hadn’t thought this through when she followed Blake and jumped in with him as he was about to take off. Her brain had misfired at the prospect of losing her job and the trickle-down effect that would have on her life…and the life of her six-year-old son.

  Having been a stay-at-home mom since Isaiah was born, proud owner of a journalism degree but no work experience, it’d been unimaginably difficult to land a job. Within weeks of discovering the untenable financial position she’d been left in when her husband died, the bank had foreclosed on her house. Options were a thing of the past. She’d needed a job, even a temporary one. It didn’t matter that her new boss had a preset interview list or that he would accept nothing less, because there was a chance, however small, she’d be hired on in a permanent position if she performed in a manner that exceeded her boss’s expectations.

  If she didn’t find a way to change Blake Sorenson’s mind, she could kiss that possibility goodbye. Even her temporary position would be in danger, with small likelihood she’d land other employment before she was evicted from her rental house, putting her and Isaiah out on the street. She couldn’t let that happen.

  The helicopter leveled off, and Tori’s stomach finally caught up to the rest of her. She swallowed hard, willing her breakfast to stay down as she focused on the horizon. They were headed east, into the morning sun, and if the miles of dense timber below were any indication, they were somewhere over the Siskiyou National Forest.

  Suddenly, the gravity of her situation hit her full force. She had no idea where they were going…or how long they’d be there. The man she was with was a total stranger, and first impressions hadn’t exactly won her a place in his heart. What if he’d allowed her to stay onboard only to teach her a lesson? Would he drop her at his first stop, abandoning her to find another way home? Perhaps it was what she deserved, and she wouldn’t really blame him, but the realization she was at his mercy put a damper on her determination.

  Uncertainty ratcheting her tension, she glanced toward him, only to find him facing her, his jaw set in a hard line. The sunglasses he wore hid whatever he was thinking, except for the serious frown creasing his forehead. Tori caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she swung toward the front again.

  Blake’s warm chuckle came through her headset. “Are you all right? You’re looking a little green. You’re not going to puke on me, are you?”

  Oh God, I hope not. “I don’t think so. I’m sorry. Not a fan.”

  “Of what? Flying?” This time he issued a full belly laugh. “You could have fooled me.” He leaned toward her until she looked at him. “You do remember coming along on this flight was your idea, right?”

  “Yeah, that decision might have been just a tiny bit too spontaneous.” Tori couldn’t help laughing. When she looked toward him again, a grin teased his lips. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Seemed she couldn’t stop apologizing either. In fact, since the second she’d laid eyes on the exceptionally attractive Blake Sorenson, her brain had failed to engage before opening her mouth. Resisting the urge to slap her palm to her face, she shrugged. “You could have kicked me out. Why didn’t you?”

  “Could have, I guess. Too late now, though. This is a round trip—in case you were wondering.”

  Though she couldn’t see his eyes behind his dark glasses, something about his rugged features kept her from looking away. His words, and the sincerity with which he’d uttered them, eased her uncertainty, but she was still curious. “You didn’t answer my question. Why’d you let me tag along?”

  It sounded like he might have sworn as he returned his attention to the controls. “I make it a rule to get to know every woman I come across wearing red stilettos.”

  A laugh burst from her lips, and she studied him doubtfully. “Really?”

  “SOP.”

  “SOP?”

  “Standard operating procedure.” Blake pushed the control stick to the right, causing the craft to roll slightly, and Tori grabbed the cushion of her seat to keep from sliding toward the door. “Relax. I’ve been flying a long time. You’re in good hands.”

  It wasn’t his hands she was worried about. Besides, those hands looked incredibly strong. And capable. The idea of being in his hands wasn’t completely distasteful. His arms and legs were muscled and powerful, and his chest filled out his T-shirt nicely. Not that the observation made her feel any better, but he was undeniably easy on the eyes. And, okay, maybe the confidence and authority that enveloped him like a second skin did make it a tiny bit easier to breathe.

  “So…red stilettoes, that’s what does it for you?” Tori tilted her head and crossed her ankles, immediately drawing his focus to her legs.

  Blake gave a mirthless laugh. “Don’t even try to play that game. You women know exactly what you do to men when you wear four-inch heels. If they’re red, even better. You want us to notice and then you act all innocent when we do and follow it up with a come-on. Right? Admit it.”

  “You might be partially right.” Tori flicked her bangs out of her eyes with a swipe of her hand.

  “Do tell—which part?” Blake’s nostrils flared as his eyes remained hidden behind his shades.

  “It’s not only women. Most people dress to be noticed. Take you, for example.”

  “Me?”

  Tori let his skeptical objection go unanswered. “The aviator sunglasses. The tight, Navy SEAL T-shirt stretched just right over those manly pecs, the sleeves barely able to wrap around your massive biceps. Formfitting jeans that hug you in all the right places and highlight your…assets. Are you going to tell me you don’t want anyone of the opposite sex to look twice?” Tori stopped, her observations challenged by Blake’s steady perusal.

  He jerked the sunglasses off and hooked them on the neck of his shirt, squinting from the sun streaming through the windows. “I wear the glasses because I’ve been too close to too many IED blasts and, as a result, bright light gives me headaches.” His grim demeanor seemed to melt away as he locked his chocolate-brown gaze with hers and winked. “But you got me on the rest. Heck yeah, it’s hot as hell when a woman appreciates a man. Even hotter when she lets him know. So…my assets…that’s what does it for you?” It was obvious his use of the exact words she’d uttered had been intentional.

  Tori choked, trying to stifle a laugh, but couldn’t hold it in when she glimpsed the humor dancing in his
eyes. He laughed with her, and the shared moment seemed to eliminate some of the tension that strained her muscles.

  “I’m impressed, Mr. Sorenson. You may be the most honest man I’ve spoken with in quite some time. Makes me wonder—why aren’t you willing to grant an interview? What don’t you want to talk about?”

  His expression slammed shut as though he’d just remembered she was a reporter. A muscle in his jaw flexed in obvious irritation. Whether the butterflies in her stomach reawakened due to the sudden cold front that loomed between them or her ridiculously inappropriate attraction, fueled by the impenetrable control emanating from him, was a question for another day.

  A few seconds later, he sighed and returned the sunglasses to the bridge of his nose. “It has nothing to do with honesty or the lack of it. Everything about my military career that isn’t classified has already been written. My successes, my failures and my medical discharge—all out there on the web.”

  “Then, obviously, you didn’t always hate reporters.”

  He issued a sardonic laugh. “Three years ago, my kid brother attacked a woman in Iraq and got himself shot by a Marine whose job it was to stop him. He was high on drugs and had just seen his best buddy blown to pieces, but there was no excuse for what he did. He lost everything that day. His military career. His self-respect. And the use of his legs.”

  Tori’s heartbeat stuttered at Blake’s revelation and the anguish in his voice. Even as her chest ached for his sacrifice…and his brother’s…images flashed before her eyes like an old-fashioned slideshow. The day her husband, Ken, came home from the hospital in a wheelchair, both legs gone after his fighter jet had been shot down during a predawn bombing run. Four-year-old Isaiah hiding behind her, terrified of the stranger who’d returned home in his father’s shattered body. The dreadful days that followed—she’d never forget. The sounds, the smells were imprinted on her brain.

  Her fingers curled around the edges of her seat again. “That must have been devastating for both of you. I’m so sorry.”

  He didn’t seem to hear her. “The press crucified my brother after Christian’s court martial was dropped and he was dishonorably discharged. He’d made a bad choice, but he’d also been through hell. When Christian finally left rehab and moved in with me, reporters called every day for weeks or showed up on my doorstep, hoping to get a new picture to splash across the front page. He was a prisoner in my house and in that damn chair. In his mind, there was no reason to go on living. He never said it, but I knew. It was five months before I could leave him by himself and trust he’d still be alive when I got back.”

  Tori slammed her eyes closed, but tears squeezed from between her lashes. She turned her face away and prayed Blake wouldn’t notice the moist tracks down her cheeks. Suddenly, she could see herself, and the entire journalistic profession, through the same lens he was using, and what she saw disgusted her.

  “So yeah, I hated those bastards, and I made myself a promise. I don’t do interviews.” Blake pushed the controls to the left and swung the front end of the craft toward a log cabin nestled within a clearing at the foot of a mountain.

  Tori cleared her throat. “How’s your brother doing now?”

  The way Blake’s head jerked toward her, her voice must have given her away. He would no doubt think it was sympathy for him and his brother that made her cry, and that was never good for a man’s ego. When he reached gently to dry her tears with his thumb, surprise made her turn her face toward him.

  “You’re the first reporter who’s ever asked how he’s doing. Thanks for that.” Raw emotions chased shadows across his face, but his voice held tenderness, and the wisp of a smile grabbed her attention. He dropped his hand and turned again to the controls. “No need for tears, sweetheart. Christian is doing well. I’ve never seen him happier. He’s getting married in a few months.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Tori’s forced cheerfulness sounded pathetic to her ears, but Blake didn’t seem to notice.

  He set the helicopter down expertly on an asphalt pad inside the tall fence that encircled the small acreage. If not for the cozy-looking log cabin positioned at the base of a tree-covered slope on the western edge of the property, she might have guessed it to be a prison yard. A treeless, scrub-brush-dotted band of flat terrain formed a barren perimeter around a narrow strip of grass, some outbuildings and the two-story cabin that nearly blended into the shadow of the old pines. What was this place?

  Just then, a large ATV appeared from one of the sheds and roared across the sandy ground toward them. Two men sat in the front, both broad-shouldered and muscular, even from a distance. The passenger held a military-looking rifle angled across his body.

  Uneasiness niggled at her senses. “Um…you did say this was a round trip, right?”

  Blake focused on the approaching ATV as he removed his headset and motioned for her to do the same. “Don’t worry. They’re harmless. As soon as we unload the supplies in the back, we’ll be on our way. I’ll have you home before lunch.”

  Tori regarded the two men skeptically as they parked and jumped from the vehicle on Blake’s side of the helicopter. “If you say so.”

  Blake’s cocky grin suggested he was about to remind her again she hadn’t been invited on this little jaunt. Admittedly, she deserved whatever he was thinking behind those mirrored sunglasses. She brushed the hair back from her face as heat crept up her throat and into her cheeks.

  Instead, he tipped the brim of his ball cap toward the men waiting outside. “C’mon. I’ll introduce you to my bosses.” He reached across her and opened her door. “Later, you can tell me about yours.”

  God, he smells so good—like rain on a summer day…and essence of man. The instant appreciation of his scent distracted her from his words for a second, but then her current situation rushed back and destroyed the erotic fantasy she’d conjured. Just as well. She had no business thinking of anything beyond how to get the interview she needed.

  Tori pushed her door open. “Shall I ditch the heels?”

  His chuckle drifted over his shoulder as he climbed out. “Hell no. I want them to get the full picture of why I brought you.” She wiped away a smirk as she crawled out and walked around the front of the aircraft.

  Blake slid the cargo door open as the two strangers stared at her feet. Good Lord! Are men really so easily sidetracked? It certainly seemed to be true. There had to be something in that bit of information she could use to get her story.

  She smiled and stuck out her hand toward the driver of the ATV. “Hi. Tori Michaels.”

  Blake stepped into her space, brushing her shoulder with his arm. “Tori, this is Matt Iverson. You can call him MacGyver. Everyone does.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, MacGyver.”

  “Same here.” Still stoic, the man shook her hand.

  “And this is Travis Monroe.” Blake’s piercing gaze seemed to hold a warning for the dark-skinned man.

  Tori extended her hand, and Travis took it between both of his as a smile pulled at his mouth. His examination swept down her length and up slowly. Blake issued a guttural sound to her left. Did he just growl? She pulled her hand back and forced a smile. “Sorry to crash your place without an invitation. I didn’t know where we were going.”

  Travis’s scrutiny darted to Blake. “What the hell, man? This is supposed to be a safe house. A secret destination? Who else did you tell?”

  Blake waved his words away. “Relax, Travis. We’re not taking the nickel tour. As soon as the cargo is unloaded, we’re out of here.” A frown creased his brow. “Besides, Tori hates to fly, and she couldn’t find this place again if her life depended on it.”

  That made her sound like a complete idiot, but it was true and at least the men were no longer looking at her like they thought they’d have to kill her to keep her quiet. That’s probably a good thing.