Free Cruisin' For A SEAL: SEAL Brotherhood #5 by Sharon Hamilton

price?” It became a matter of principle. He wanted that necklace for some reason, and was willing to overpay for it. It became important that he have it.
    “Your lady will not be pleased,” the guide tried to say.
    “There is no lady. It’s for me,” Mark said a little too loudly. Instantly Rory and Kyle were at his elbow.
    “Easy there, partner,” Kyle said.
    “Kyle, get this monk off my ass, will you?” he growled to his LPO.
    Kyle occupied the robed guide while Mark negotiated sixty euros for the necklace, which was about half of what he’d expected to pay. The shopkeeper put it around his neck and gave him a toothless grin. Mark handed him another five Euro bill.
    “For the dog,” he pointed to a skinny mutt asleep on a pile of blue plastic bags. He tucked the necklace into his shirt and felt the cool stones begin to warm from his skin. He thought about what they would look like on Sophia’s smooth, tanned body, how perfectly they would drape between her breasts with those full, dark areolas that would pucker when he touched them. The vision alone was worth the five euros, even though he was fairly sure he’d never get that chance again.
    Not unless she got the itch.
    They watched the twirling dancers, the snake charmers and spice vendors, all calling for coin. There wasn’t any way he was going to touch one of the black cobras, didn’t matter they had been milked of their venom. Snakes gave him the creeps. He outran one teenager who had picked up on this and was enjoying taunting the overbuilt American with the soft heart.
    Get your shit together, Mark.
    If the kid got too close again he was fully prepared to use the KA-BAR strapped to his shin and decapitate the squirming black creature, and to hell with the fact that it would be a very stupid move.
    Their guide led them through tunnels of makeshift shops, weaving around back and forth, probably in an effort to disorient the travelers. The rest of the group was getting restless because they weren’t being allowed to shop. At last the group came to a small metal building and everyone was herded inside, then made to sit.
    “The oil will make your skin look twenty years younger,” the guide said. That might work on the tourists who were in their fifties and sixties, but one glance at the girls with the Team guys and he realized his mistake. “In your case, ladies, it will help you look young forever.” An uneasy tension descended upon the room.
    Mark connected with each of the men, and they got up, pulling the girls with them. “No thanks. We’ll be outside,” Kyle said.
    Despite the guide’s voluble attempts, the rest of the group followed right behind, so that the whole room emptied in a stampede worthy of a good western, leaving the tour guide in the midst of an argument with the shop owner.
    Lunch was served in an old building exquisitely decorated with inlay of agate, marble and sandalwood. The squishy-carpeted hallway led them to a wide room, where several other tours from their ship were already seated around brass tables. They took their places amongst silk cushions while tea was served.
    A three-piece group began to perform Arabic music with heavy drums. A veiled woman snaked her way into the center of the room, a silver tray lit with candles balanced atop her head. She took turns in front of all the tables, but stayed especially long in front of the SEAL group.
    Mark was transfixed with how she could shake her rear while still managing to shimmy her chest, all while bending backward and balancing the tray. She encouraged him to come dance with her, and his buds gave him the rest of the impetus he needed.
    Suddenly self-conscious of his cargo shorts and flip-flops, he attempted to match her grace, but fell short. She took his hand, entwining his fingers with hers, and moved her stomach muscles back and forth, undulating to the beat of the music, encouraging him to do the same. Mark worked as hard as he could, but couldn’t be as supple