Read Ruined by the SEAL (ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights Book 2) for Free Online

I’d packed up.”
    “Oh.” She pinched the skin on her palm to keep herself from asking just exactly how and with what he’d been busy. It was her business, after all, butpoking him wasn’t her game plan at the moment.
    “Do you want eggs and tomato?”
    Her stomach growled before she could say no.
    “I’ll take that as a yes.”
    “You don’t need to—”
    “It’s fine.”
    She moved restlessly around the kitchen while he cooked. She should do something. Would he want coffee? But as she opened her mouth to offer, the kettle started to whistle. She’d missed him filling it. He pouredthe hot water over coffee grounds in a simple filter, filling one mug, then another.
    “You need milk or sugar or something?” He didn’t really look at her, but just in her general direction. She watched as he carefully dumped the grounds into the compost bucket she kept under the sink— man , this guy was observant—and slid her cup down the counter toward her.  
    He picked his own up and took a longsip, his eyes closed. He drank his coffee black. Well then, so could she.
      “I’m good.” She echoed his action, and surprised herself by sighing as the smooth, rich liquid slid down her throat. “This is delicious!”
    “Pour-over coffee,” he grunted, lifting one shoulder. “Something I learned to perfect in the field.”
    It was an opening, and she carefully set down her cup. Take it, she told herself, but be polite . “The field?”
    He laughed, almost ruefully, and stared down at his mug. “Nothing. You got anything against onions?”
    “No.”
    “Some people do.”
    “I don’t.”
    “Good.”
    He set his coffee down and gave her his back as he finished cooking.
    Well, so much for that being an opening to a conversation.
    She grabbed two plates from the open cupboard—something else he’d apparently quietly done.The dishes had been in a box on the far side of the room. They came with the estate, and weren’t anything special. Probably had just been used by the last housekeeper.
    But she still didn’t like that he’d found them, washed them, and put them on the shelf. Like he planned to stay.
    Of course he plans to stay. And boot your optimistic ass out without a second thought.
    She needed to get ahold ofthat law office in the morning.
    And until then, for her own sanity, she needed to set all of that noise aside and just be pleasant.
    He took the plates and divvied up the food. Eggs scrambled, light and fluffy, with sautéed vegetables and a side of toast.
    Her stomach growled and he smirked at her as he handed her one of the plates. “Here you go.”
    “Thanks.” She glanced at the table. It was coveredin work orders. She could have—should have—cleared it off while he was cooking. And they needed chairs…
    “We can eat standing up, if you want.”
    “Or we could go sit on the veranda?” She pointed outside. There were a couple of small table-and-chair sets from various decades out there, but they would suffice.
    But once they were outside, she realized she’d made a mistake.
    Having been born and raisedon Miralinda, she should be immune to the romance of a hot Caribbean night.
    She was not.
    The warm, fragrant air surrounded them, dusk had settled and brought with it a dark drape of intimacy. The jungle provided a distant soundtrack that lent a wild and exciting vibe to a situation that was most definitely not either of those things.
    You’re eating dinner with the enemy. She looked at her plateas they settled at one of the tables. If this was a movie, she’d make him prove it wasn’t poisoned. But this wasn’t an over-the-top adventure flick. It wasn’t even a laugh-a-minute comedy. It was her real life, and she hadn’t asked for any of this. Hadn’t asked to have to defend this estate against a claim of ownership by a big, hulking, good-with-food and even-better-without-a-shirt Adonis.
    No, this wasn’t exciting.
    It was confusing and strange.
    She didn’t like it at