Nashville SEAL: SEAL Brotherhood: Nashville SEALs by Sharon Hamilton

might not really be a smile, a handshake not really an agreement between two honorable men, in a town where you didn’t really know who to trust and who was stealing from you, where robbery of the soul was as commonplace as hookups at bars and as certain as the bevy of women only too willing to stoke the fires of a young man’s ego.
    Kyle made an unremarkable exit and was just gone. That left him standing behind with the redhead. Thomas had said his goodbyes earlier and headed over to the bar.
    He focused on the lady standing by his side. She smelled wonderful, looked soft and warm as a country kitchen. She was very pretty, without much makeup, which he preferred, and as he studied her blue-green eyes, he was affected by the gentle way about her that was soothing, not asking or expecting too much of him.
    The crowd was becoming drunker, boisterous belly laughs piercing the smoke-filled space, and he didn’t like the fact that Arlen wasn’t anywhere around. Remembering the trouble that had occurred last night made him more than a little concerned.
    “I’d offer you a drink, but I’m needing to leave this crowd. You wanna come back to my place for a bit?” It was the first time he’d actually asked a girl to his room. Her eyes angled down, hesitating, so he decided to let her off easy, if that’s what she wanted. “Oh, it’s all right, darlin’, no offense. I didn’t mean anything by it. Maybe I’ll see you around another time.”
    Her face came to pretty attention. “No, that wasn’t it. I’d be happy to have a drink with you at your place.”
    He gave her the room number and the name of the hotel.
    Back at the hotel, Jameson took the card from his wallet and flicked it back and forth between his fingers a few times. He didn’t believe in coincidence. There was some reason he was meant to meet these men tonight. He kicked off his cowboy boots and opened a fresh bottled water. He didn’t even open the minibar. There was a part of him that just wanted a shower and a deep sleep. If she took too long coming over, he would be asleep in his clothes. He sat in the reading chair at the corner, staring at his TV, but without turning it on. He listened to the words playing around in his head from tonight.
    The gentle knock on the door jolted him awake. He had fallen asleep for just a few seconds. In his stocking feet, he turned the handle and found the redhead standing in front of him.
    “Hi, Jameson.”
    “Come on in,” he said, like he always did when he saw a pretty woman standing there.
    She sat on the edge of the bed, which was different. She still had the strap of her purse over her shoulder, which made him wonder if she was planning on bolting or staying.
    “You want something?”
    “Something strong.”
    That nabbed his interest, so he chuckled. “Okay. Needing an ounce of courage, are we?”
    “Yes.”
    “Really?” he turned in her direction to make sure it was the same girl he’d thought he’d let in. He opened the minibar. “We got vodka, orange juice. I got Jim Beam, little bottles of crummy wine, some beer, or what’s—”
    “I’ll have the Jim Beam.”
    “Okay, I’ll join you. You wanna wait here while I go for some ice?”
    “Only if you want it. I’m fine.”
    He started to walk toward the bathroom to fetch a couple of glasses when she stopped him. “Just give me the Jim Beam.” She stood, extending her arm.
    He did. She screwed the top off, toasted her tiny bottle to his tiny bottle, and downed the whole thing in one long gulp. She closed her eyes and licked her lips, and as he watched her, he could feel how the liquor was flowing down her spine. She resumed her seat on the bed. He was left standing without having touched his liquor, he was so stunned.
    “I need to take your temperature, darlin’. Am I that bad?”
    “No, don’t be silly.”
    “Maybe you misunderstood my intentions, and if I need to apologize, I’m game. You mind telling me what’s so hard about being here