Ruined by the SEAL

By: Zoe York

“Uh huh.” This time his smile was crooked, his eyes hooded. He looked like he was about to ask her a question he already knew she’d say no to. “You got a bathing suit on, by any chance? I’m heading down to the beach.”

He wanted to go swimming together? The only thing she wanted to do with him was bid each other a polite farewell as he carried his ridiculously oversized, over-muscled, over-everythinged body off the estate and out of her life.

“No, I do not,” she lied. “And stop calling it a beach.”

“Oceanfront property, lady. In my world, that’s a beach.”

He was insufferable. “Well, go enjoy cracking your head open on the rocks, then. I have work to do.”

“On a Saturday?” He frowned. “I thought you’d said you’d be back on Monday.”

That was before you started waging a guerrilla war based on some misguided sense of possession being nine-tenths of the law. “Change of plans.”

He gave her a long, scrutinizing look. She held her ground. She wouldn’t be intimidated.

Finally, he canted his head to the side and nodded. “Well, if you’re hungry, there are sausages and grilled tomatoes in the fridge.”

“The fridge isn’t…” She trailed off. It hadn’t been connected to power. But as she glanced over his shoulder, she realized he’d moved it back against the wall and plugged it in. So cereal and shelf-stable milk were his backup pantry staples. Crappity crap.

Two could play at that game. “Thank you for the offer, but I had my breakfast a few hours ago.”

He smirked at her. “Early riser, are you?”

“You should try it some time.”

That shouldn’t amuse him, but it clearly did. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

She stiffened. “Anyway, if you’ll excuse me…”

“Just what work are you doing on the weekend? Suddenly?”

She gave him a bland look. “Why?”

He gave her a slow perusal. Up and down his gaze crawled, and it should haven’t felt good. It didn’t feel good, she lied to herself. They were on opposite sides of what could turn into a serious legal battle.

This man was the enemy, no matter how tall or how handsome he was. No matter how warm his gaze.

The. Enemy.

“Because I think you’re going to be a problem for me, Ms. Levasseur.” Okay, so he was on the same enemy-page. That was…good. She swallowed as his gaze hardened. “Does that start today?”

Did the fact that she’d brought all the camping supplies she owned and quietly set up shop in the ballroom constitute the beginning of an all-out-war? “You tell me. Does it?”

He laughed quietly. “Answering a question with a question. I’m guessing yes.” He took a few steps back, slow and sure, his eyes never blinking as he held her gaze. “I’m going swimming.”

“And I’m going to work.”

“See you later.”

“Definitely. You can count on it.” She really didn’t need to say both of those things. She pressed her lips together to keep any more empty, threatening promises from spilling out.

“Ms. Levasseur?” She jerked her chin up in response to his slow drawl of her name. He smirked as he pointed to the jug of filtered water that she used for tea. He hadn’t used any of it, she saw. “In case you were looking for some running water. I got the bathroom hooked up in the servants’ quarters.”

What? She gapped at him. “When?” The question stuttered out of her.

He grinned. “You’re not the only one who had breakfast hours ago. I’ve been busy.”



He shouldn’t take as much glee in throwing Cara off-kilter as he did. But there it was—the first bit of fun he’d had in a long while.

And for all her bluster, for all the hard, angry looks she threw his way, he felt an odd familiarity with her.

So he secretly liked the woman he’d spend the next few days around, at least as much as he liked anyone, and he was having fun.

This was all good.

The ocean was fun, too. The surf had been pretty vicious first thing this morning—exactly how he liked to greet the day.

But not even the crashing waves felt as good as poking the sexy, fiery, defensive woman currently plotting his demise up at the main house. Every time they clashed, she lit up like a Chinese lantern. It hadn’t taken much for him to realize that his slow and steady “not going anywhere” attitude was an easily lit match, and he used it at will because…

Well, because it was fun.

He laughed. He hadn’t used that word as many times in the last ten years as he had in the last ten minutes inside his head.

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