Tall, Dark and Daring. Suzanne Brockmann

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      “Dr. Lange and I are going to push it a little bit faster,” Jake said, “and a little bit farther. We’re going to do three loops in about two-thirds the time. Just let us know when you get back to camp.”

      Zoe was ready, and as Jake jammed it into higher gear, she was right beside him.

      “Hey!” he heard Harvard say as they left him in their dust. He put on a burst of speed, hustling to catch up. “Admiral, this isn’t necessary. You don’t need to prove anything here.”

      “Obviously, I do.”

      “We’re all tired this morning—”

      “Speak for yourself. I’m an old man—I don’t need much sleep.”

      Harvard looked pained. “I assure you, sir—”

      “Save your breath, Senior. You’re going to need it if you want to keep up.” And Jake ran even faster.

      ZOE STOOD UNDER THE campground shower and let the water stream onto her head.

      She hadn’t run a race like that in a long time. And it had been a race. Three times around the KOA campground driveway. At least six miles. At top speed.

      It had been some kind of macho showdown, and Jake had come out on top. He was a good runner—he held something back, something in reserve for the end of the race. While everyone else was working overtime to keep up the pace for that last quarter mile, Jake had pulled a sprint out of his back pocket.

      She shut off the shower and toweled herself dry.

      The other SEALs had tried valiantly to keep up with the admiral, but Harvard was the only one who’d stayed neck and neck.

      And when it was over, Jake had been able to carry on a conversation. Bobby and Wes had been gasping for oxygen like fish on the deck of a boat, yet Jake had calmly given out orders, flashing that incredible smile of his at the pack of them.

      At everyone but Zoe.

      She slipped on her robe and wrapped her towel around her shoulders, using it to reach up and rub her wet hair as she headed toward the trailers.

      The smile he’d sent in her direction had been self-conscious, and she knew he couldn’t so much as look at her without thinking about that kiss they’d shared last night.

      He was obviously embarrassed. It was clear he didn’t know what to say to her, obvious that she’d overstepped the boundaries of propriety.

      That was just perfect. She’d been trying to help, but all she’d done was make things awkward between them and …

      Zoe had to laugh at herself—at her self-righteous attempt to justify what she’d done last night.

      The truth was that she’d kissed Jake Robinson because she’d wanted to kiss Jake Robinson. Badly. She’d wanted to kiss him since she’d first found out about kissing, back in seventh grade.

      She’d pushed too hard too fast, and now she was paying for it.

      As she went up the steps to her private RV, she saw Jake standing with Bobby and Wes at the door to the main trailer.

      He was watching her, but instead of holding her gaze, he looked away.

      His message couldn’t have been more clear. This assignment was going to be neither easy nor fun for him. He’d prefer to keep whatever it was that had made him kiss her the way he had locked deep inside of him forever.

      He was still in love with his wife, and a man like Jake Robinson would never cheat, not even on a memory.

      LIEUTENANT LUCKY O’DONLON burst into the surveillance trailer as if his pants were on fire.

      He skidded to a stop next to Bob Taylor and furiously whispered into the big enlisted man’s ear. Lucky was gone as quickly as he came in, and now it was Bobby’s turn to stand up.

      Moving with the agile speed and grace of a ballet dancer, the six-feet-five-inch-tall, seemingly six-feet-wide SEAL pirouetted elegantly over to his swim buddy, Wes Skelly, and, glancing almost nervously at Jake, he leaned over and whispered something into Wes’s ear.

      Another graceful leap and Bobby, too, was out the door.

      Wes knocked all the papers from his file onto the floor in his haste to get to his feet. He scooped them up, tossed them on the table in random order and scurried toward Cowboy, Crash and Mitch.

      As he spoke to them, his voice was too low for Jake to hear, but he gestured with his thumb toward the door, then scrambled after Bobby.

      Jake looked at Harvard, who was fine-tuning the programming for their satellite access computers. The big senior chief frowned as he watched Mitch rise to his feet and saunter out the door. He turned and met Jake’s eyes and shook his head, anticipating the admiral’s question.

      “What the hell is going on?” Jake stood up for the first time in what seemed like hours, stretching his legs and heading toward the door.

      Cowboy had crossed to the window and stood looking out.

      Crash glanced out the door. “Apparently Dr. Lange has returned from her pool party.”

      “Yes,” Cowboy said from the window. “She’s definitely wearing a bikini. And she’s definitely … wearing a bikini.”

      Jake opened the door, and stepped outside, intending to go out there and kick some ass. The male members of his team had no right to ogle Zoe, bikini or …

      No bikini.

      What she was wearing was, in fact, almost no bikini.

      Two very small triangles of black fabric stretched across her full breasts, attached with a string that tied around her neck and around her back.

      Oh, God, he was staring. Just like Lucky and Bobby and Wes and even unflappable Mitch Shaw, Jake was standing there and staring. He forced his eyes from her breasts and encountered her perfect rear end.

      She was wearing some kind of a sarong-style cover-up around her hips, but it was white and completely wet and did little in the way of covering her.

      In fact, it clung to her, outlining every detail of her black bikini bottoms, which weren’t much in the way of bottoms at all. They were cut high on her legs, high on her rear. Oh, yeah, there was no doubt about it. Zoe Lange had a world-class rear end.

      But Jake already knew that. He’d had his hands all over it just a few nights ago.

      And he’d been avoiding her ever since.

      “Isn’t anyone going to get me a towel?” she asked.

      Jake realized with a jolt that her hair was soaking wet. She was carrying a towel, but it was drenched and dripping, as was her bag and a pair of jeans she had over her arm. She still had beads of water on her shoulders and chest and …

      The late afternoon air had an autumn chill. It was blatantly obvious that she was freezing.

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