To Seduce a SEAL (Sin City SEALs) by Sara Jane Stone

And he didn’t have a clue how to move on without that part of himself. He gave his all when it came to his country and love. But right now, it didn’t feel like he had his everything to give.
    He glanced down at his busted knee. The scar was hidden beneath his jeans. But he knew it was there. A bright red reminder that at this point in time he fell short of Navy SEAL standards.
    “She’s amazing, right?” The little girl to his left called as the song ended and the audience erupted. The kid’s blond hair and blue eyes matched her big sister’s.
    “Yeah, she’s good,” he said.
    “She’s the best,” the kid said, her voice firm.
    “Do you attend a lot of her concerts?” he asked.
    The child shook her head. “No. But I’m on spring break, so my momma had to bring me. Usually I stay home with my father. But he’s too sad right now.”
    After hearing that song, I can understand why.
    Chrissie launched into an upbeat number about broken hearts and lost dogs. Yeah, this part of country music wasn’t for him. But he kept his gaze fixed on the star. She danced up and down the stage, shaking her perfect, pop-princess body for the crowd.
    No, he didn’t like this version of country music. But the country star? She was damn near close to irresistible.
    Hell, I hope she follows through and fires my ass tomorrow.
    Because after kissing her until she came, watching her pass out, and then listening to her number one hit, he had a feeling there was a lot more to Chrissie Tate than her looks. And right or wrong, he wanted to explore every part of her.

    Dante scanned the crowd. The concert had wrapped up ten minutes ago. But, instead of taking a rest, Chrissie was determined to greet her fans. Why the hell was she wasting energy he was pretty damn sure she didn’t have to spare on worst-case scenarios? One look and Dante knew her fans were pushing the limits of the Vegas hotel security.
    “I recommend using another exit,” he said, turning away from the stage door that led to the packed hotel corridor.
    Chrissie had traded her country-girl button-down for a red, white, and blue sequined top. Melissa, her Mini-Me, stood at her side and held tight to her big sister’s hand.
    Chrissie shook her head. “I need to sign autographs.”
    “And then we’re getting ice cream,” her kid sister informed him.
    He folded his arms across his chest and faced them, his back to the exit. The adoring fans on the other side chanted “Chrissie Tate!” over and over. But what if someone in the crowd wanted more than her autograph?
    “Order room service,” he said.
    “I was planning on it.” Chrissie smiled at him. That same fake grin, dammit. “But first I need to sign autographs. Those people have been waiting out there. I owe them.”
    “You gave them a great show,” he said evenly.
    “You liked it?” Her smile touched her eyes for a brief second. But then the grin she wore like body armor returned.
    Hell, he wanted to tell her that wasn’t a guarantee. There were some things it couldn’t protect against. Like an IED or a shot to the head.
    Or a crazy-ass country music fan.
    “Yeah. I’m not about to go out and buy cowboy boots or anything—”
    “But you liked hearing songs about pickups, dead dogs, and the good old U.S.A.,” she teased as she tried to walk around him.
    “Not the ones about the trucks and the dogs.” He moved in front of her. “But the rest were about you. I liked them because the lyrics were honest.”
    Her smile vanished, but she didn’t look away. “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome. Now let’s find another way out of this place.”
    She drew a deep breath. “You’re fired.”
    “I’ll pass the message on to Ronan. But I’m still not letting you through this door.”
    Mason rushed over. He’d traded his suit for ripped jeans that looked as if he bought them that way and a button-down shirt. “What’s the holdup, Chrissie? The crowd is getting restless.”
    “The hired muscle