Freaky By Nature (SEALS, Inc., Book 3)

Freaky By Nature

By Mia Dymond

Copyright 2011 Mia Dymond

Published on Smashwords

Cover photo: Nickolay Klimenko|Dreamstime.com

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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CHAPTER ONE

Awwww, baby, don’t be so mean!

Brett tossed the final swallow of his root beer down the back of his throat before he turned his attention to the drunken fool on the next bar stool. What the hell was his problem? No hot blooded male on the entire planet could complain about tonight’s entertainment. Brett glanced at the blonde goddess who shimmied around the metal pole in front of them to the hard core, raunchy tones of a heavy metal band while she accented each beat with the shake of a hip. Madame X. He owed Jack. Big time.

Brett chuckled to himself. When Jack Campbell, his Navy buddy and owner of The Cathouse, called in a favor, Brett didn’t hesitate to agree. No normal guy in his right mind would pass up an opportunity to watch beautiful women dance while he protected their bodies in the process. Madame X, however, had captured his attention ten-fold. And not just because his cock worshipped her, she just seemed … familiar.

Madame’s eyes and nose hid behind a sparkly mask, but the smooth, porcelain skin left exposed revealed high cheekbones and pouty, full lips. Two, glossy, very tempting pieces of flesh, proportionately sized to fit perfectly between his own. Or around other pleasure points on his body. The eager soldier between his legs stretched.

Waves of silky, platinum curls fell around her shoulders and bounced with every sway of her body. Now in overdrive, his raging libido fed his wild imagination. His hands itched to tangle his fingers into the depths, to give a tight yank while he buried himself so deep inside her that she screamed in satisfaction. Damn. He knew only one other woman with hair like that.

He cursed and shifted to accommodate his persistent hard-on, still not able to look away.

A metallic midnight blue bra barely restrained her breasts and thrust the full globes up and out until he swore they begged for his personal touch. Something short of gauze managed to cover a portion of her skin, and he wondered if she knew her nipples hardened under his gaze. Brett swallowed hard. Voyeurism had its place, just not while he concentrated on protecting her.

Despite his intent not to stare like a sex-crazed teenager, Brett found himself more appreciative when Madame X strutted a semi circle then turned her back to him. Scraps of blue lace stretched across her hips and rounded, creamy skin of her ass. Sweat droplets danced on his forehead at the thought of how smooth and pliable it would feel squeezed in his palm.

Fire whipped through his veins as he let his gaze meander along the length of her legs. They went on for days, the muscles finely toned and shaped to hold him in place as she rode. Then she gave her head a sexy roll, turned to peer over her shoulder, and bit her bottom lip.

His heated blood turned to ice water. Hell no.

An obnoxious wolf whistle pierced his eardrums. Come on, sweetheart, give me something to work with here.

Distracted and annoyed by the crude comment, Brett gave the guy a hard glance. While Brett had been lost in lustful appreciation, the sap had draped himself over the edge of the bar and eased himself onto the catwalk with a twenty dollar bill in hand. He waved it like a flag, obviously expecting her to take the bait. She gave him a sexy wink, took two steps backwards, and steered clear.

Brett squinted so hard his eyes crossed, almost as if she’d morph into another person if he stared hard enough. No fucking way.

Now angry beyond words, Brett pushed his glass to the side, and stood. Masterful self discipline kept him from murder when he rested a hand to the back of loverboy’s neck. That’s enough, buddy. Let’s say you call it a night.

Madame’s pursuer gave him a go-to-hell look and snarled. It’s early. She’s dancing and I’m paying.

With a quick lunge, he slipped free of Brett’s hold and crawled onto the catwalk.

Brett only had seconds to warn her. Holly! Move!

Madame’s eyes met his in sheer panic as the drunk wrapped both hands around her legs. Unable to move, she lost her balance and fell to the stage.

In the next heated heartbeat, her admirer covered her with his body. Within seconds, he forced his lips to hers and fondled her perfectly-rounded breasts with one hand. As Madame rolled her head from side to side and struggled to free herself, he yanked the strings of her costume free from their knots with the other hand.

Sonuvabitch.

Brett flung himself onto the stage, rolled the attacker off, and crushed him against the catwalk with the force of his rage. Don’t. Move.

Brett paused a moment only to cast a glance at Madame. Although she appeared unharmed, the slight whimper he heard boiled his blood. In one more fluid movement, he squeezed the lust-driven sop into a head lock.

Didn’t you read the no-touching policy, jerk-off?

With a sickening crack, Brett’s left fist connected with his prisoner’s jaw. He felt his skin split and looked to see blood spatter his knuckles while the guy lay in a drunken heap on the floor.

Still seeing red, Brett wiped the back of his hand on his t-shirt and turned his attention back to the damsel in distress. In all of the chaos, her mask lay beside her.

There, before him with her eyes wide and her arms crossed over her now bare chest, stood Madame X a/k/a Holly London. The star of his most recent wet dream.

***

Oh, God … Oh, God … Oh, God.

Holly peeled off her stilettos and sprinted down the private hallway to the dressing area, the straps of her bikini top flowed behind. With her heart in her throat, she slammed the door and braced herself against a row of cool, metal lockers.

She should’ve known better than to try and pull this off. The atmosphere had tried to warn her. Colors had assaulted her from the moment she stepped onto the stage. Colors no one except she could see. And, she had felt someone, or something, watching. Waiting.

Damn him. She’d been close to discovering what until she spotted Brett. At first sight of his dominant, powerful being, cool colors of blue and green enveloped her brain and chased away her fear. Yet, the longer she danced under his heated stare, clear tones of red and pink bathed the distance that separated her from him. Holly found herself drawn by the connection, aroused by his attention. It was though everyone else disappeared and she danced solely for him.

Why was Brett here?

Holly swallowed hard and took several deep breaths to attempt to regulate her heartbeat. When Jack mentioned he’d hired a new bouncer, she never expected to see Brett Steele. The instant the hard-bodied SEAL attached his eyes to her, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide her identity for long. He was too potent to ignore, too intelligent to fool, and much too good a private investigator not to expose her. She released a slight groan. What now?

Brett wouldn’t let it go. No way. She probably had about three minutes tops to pull herself together. First things first. She reached behind her back and re-tied the wayward strings. A naked confrontation with him wouldn’t help her explanation.

There had to be a way to get out of this. She really didn’t owe him an explanation. Not really. Her eyes darted around the room in desperation until they finally focused on the window in the corner. Maybe she could squeeze through and avoid seeing him altogether.

Don’t even think about it.

Startled, Holly swung her head back around at the creak of the door and then the sound of a familiar, deep voice. Brett stood braced in the doorway, both his bulky arms folded over his bare massive chest.

Her tongue thickened as her eyes began their intimate perusal at the tip of his smooth, slick, expertly-carved pectorals. Muscles so toned and shaped that no prisoner could escape his hold and no woman in her right mind would even try. From there, she let her gaze travel downward to his slim, trim obliques, molded to create a sexy v-cut that led beneath his jeans. Moisture pooled between her legs as she observed the package nestled there. Even as he stood perfectly still, power undulated from every pore of his body.

Holly drew her gaze back up his body and into his hardened, brooding eyes. She forced words from her mouth, but managed only a whisper. Brett.

Fully expecting a reprimand, she was surprised when he uncrossed his arms and closed the door without a word. He moved towards her and laid a hand on one bare shoulder. Despite the heat generated between them, goose bumps danced on her skin and her nerves shook.

He nodded at the bench in front of the lockers. Sit.

Both relieved and still wary of his reaction, Holly sat on the bench and crossed her legs. Where is your shirt?

He turned his hand over to expose the torn skin. Bloody. He dismissed her concern and reached to move a wayward curl from her forehead. Are you hurt?

She managed a half smile. No.

He nudged her bare foot with his heavy combat boot. You’re Madame X.

She couldn’t stop the pull of a grin at the corner of her mouth. Yeah. Surprise.

He didn’t bother to disguise his irritated sigh. Holly, what the hell are you doing?

Although his tone remained controlled, a red-orange haze surrounded him and she knew she couldn’t avoid his anger. Or his question.

Her smile slipped. Dancing.

A muscle ticked at the edge of his jaw for a split second before he answered. Why?

Holly gazed into the depths of his cool blue eyes and attempted to see past his emotion. She found only sterile, blank walls.

I work here.

A slight flicker of something close to disbelief flashed across his face but he remained undeterred. You work here.

She nodded and twisted her hands in her lap. Never would he discover why she danced here.

Brett’s eyes narrowed. What about the gym?

She tilted her head to one side. What about it?

"You own Fitness in the Buff."

Her brow wrinkled. So?

He glanced at the ceiling as if he sought divine intervention. You’ve owned the gym for ten years, Holly. You can’t convince me it doesn’t turn a healthy profit.

The man was entirely too intelligent. Not to mention insanely distracting without his shirt. She sighed and wrapped a curl around her finger. Look, Brett. The reason I dance here is complicated and private. There’s no need to concern yourself.

He raised an eyebrow. It’s my concern when some half-baked asshole tries to maul you.

She sprung to her feet at the condescending tone in his voice. "Here. Your obligation to protect me is here, Brett. Nowhere else and in no other part of my life."

He ran a hand through his mussed, blonde hair. The action made her want to wake next to him in the early morning hours and push it from his face.

I thought we were friends, he said softly.

We are. Holly mentally crossed her fingers. He was as much of a friend as she would allow him to be. She couldn’t afford to have friends. Just don’t worry about this. It’s no big deal. Really. There’s always a guy who pushes the limits. He’s just drunk.

Brett studied her for a moment and she expected him to start another argument. Instead, he reached for the door.

Just be careful, Holly.

Despite her explanation, she gave him a brave smile. You won’t give me away, will you?

He tossed her a sexy grin. No, Madame, your secret’s safe with me.

CHAPTER TWO

Holly sipped the foam from her chocolate caramel latte and yawned as she inserted her key into the front door lock of Fitness in the Buff. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and flung open the door with her free hand. Thanks to the unexpected confrontation with Brett last night, she didn’t sleep well and her nerves still jangled like Mexican jumping beans.

She stepped inside and exhaled a long breath as the chime of the doorbell echoed off the quiet, dry morning of the still-sleeping Arizona city and welcomed her inside. Five o’clock in the morning was the only time of day she heard the bell. By the time members arrived, the loud music and whirring machinery filled the air with the sound of exercise.

She punched her security code into the keypad next to the door as she took a long swallow of the warm beverage and waited for the caffeine to jolt her system. She snorted at her impatience. Nothing in Diablo hurried. Located just across the California/ Arizona state line, Diablo moved at a somewhat slower pace and catered to those who enjoyed an active lifestyle, just not early in the morning. The quaint city reminded Holly of Las Vegas in the early afternoon hours, after the late-night gamblers slept away the morning and awoke to poke around the other tourist attractions.

Holly stepped into the reception area and smiled contentedly at the peacefulness of her inner sanctum. After years of fighting her feelings of inadequacy, the overwhelming confidence of her accomplishments surged through her each time she opened the front door. The fitness center was the one thing she could truly call a success in her life. She had built it from the ground up, on her own, without anyone’s help.

She checked her watch and then made a realization that caused her pulse to skitter. Brett normally signed in at six thirty. That gave