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was, once that discussion door was open, it went both ways.
    “But most women here,” she continued, waving her hand again to encompass the loud club. “They’re all about the goal, not the relationship.”
    “What’s the goal?”
    “Fishing. They’re here to fish for sailors,” she said, shifting closer so she didn’t have to shout the words. Close enough that her body heat wrapped around him, her scent filled his head with the image of sun, surf and sex. “Some, like Blondie, are catch and release. Others are looking for a keeper.”
    “That’s awfully cynical,” he observed, laughing even though her words echoed his own thoughts. “Aren’t you women supposed to stick together? You know, group bathroom trip, the girl code, the secret sisterhood?”
    Dark eyes dancing, Alexia leaned closer. Blake almost held his breath so as not to be tempted by her scent. Coconut, spices, just a hint of something floral and purely female. Then he remembered he was a solider. A navy SEAL, for crying out loud. He was brave enough to deal with sexy.
    “Oh, believe me, if she was a friend I’d be distracting you while she slid that hook into your mouth,” she assured him with a laugh. “But tonight, you look like you could use someone on your side.”
    Nonplussed, Blake stared. And saw the sympathy in her eyes. As if she’d seen into his soul and wanted to soothe the pain there.
    God, he was a mess. When had he lost it? Blake had been captured by the enemy once. They’d been furious with his implacable refusal to show emotion or reveal information. But tonight all it took was three beers, and a sexy redhead could read his secrets?
    He figured he had three options. Say goodbye and walk away before she delved any deeper. Open up and share the confused emotions tangled in his gut. Or distract her.
    But he never gave up, and he wasn’t into sharing. So option three was it.
    “Which category do you fall into?” he asked, giving in to the need that’d been gnawing at him since that afternoon and reaching out to touch her. Just the ends of her hair, like silken heat between the tips of his fingers.
    “I don’t think I can be categorized,” she murmured. “It’s too easy to be dismissed once a label’s been posted, isn’t it?”
    Beautiful, sexy and smart? She might as well be wearing a sign proclaiming her dangerous territory.
    A woman this perceptive was better to hustle along as quickly as possible. When a man’s defenses were down, it was smart to keep the threats to a minimum. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Cade and a group of SEALs saunter into the club. Now that his teammates were here, she’d find out he was navy soon enough. Still, Blake figured it was better to hurry her along before he was tempted to do something stupid.
    “Everyone can be categorized. The only question is, are you in the catch-and-release group?” he asked quietly. “Or are you looking for a keeper? And if it’s not the uniform that gets your attention, what’s a guy got to show? His bank statement?”
    There. That should piss her off. Blake sipped his beer with only a little regret that he was driving away what could have been the most incredible encounter of his life.

3
    H ER TEMPER WAS A WORK OF ART . First Alexia’s eyes flashed dark fire. Then they narrowed as if she was contemplating where she wanted to punch him. Blake didn’t bother to steel his core. He deserved the hit, and he’d take it full on. After all, that’d been a cheap shot.
    “C’mon,” she said, tilting her head toward the exit.
    Not sure he’d heard her right, Blake frowned in confusion as she wriggled between him, the bar stool and the three guys blocking her way.
    Blake’s groan was lost in the noise of the club. With her in heels, her lips were within kissing distance of his. Her breasts, full and soft under that flowy dress, skimmed, just barely, his chest. He knew it wasn’t deliberate. He’d been hit on enough to tell. But it was the