Free Revealing Her SEAL (ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights Book 4) by Kat Cantrell Page B

problem.”
    “I like having an actual conversation with you.” She gave him a little push toward the bathroom that had zero effect because the day had not yet come when a woman who clocked in at half his weight could move him. “But you smell like dead seaweed. Off you go.”
    Since that was likely true, he took the reprieve and washed the ocean from his skin. But he didn’t indulge in his normal shower fantasy of naked, quivering Rachel. Instead, he had the weirdest image of pulling her into his arms and letting their gazes meet in a tangible, breathing connection as the water sluiced down over them both, blanketing them in steam.
    Something was definitely wrong with him. More so than usual.
    The smell of fresh herbs drew him to the kitchen when he’d have sworn his feet had been pointed in the direction of his bedroom. That’s where he should have been headed. But the sound of Rachel humming was irresistible, especially since the little voice in his head poked at him with a pointed comment that she was cooking strictly for him.
    She glanced up as he came into the kitchen, her ponytail swinging against her bare neck. “Hey. If you wanted to hang out with me while I finish these potatoes au gratin, I’d be okay with that. No pressure to serenade me. Unless of course you want to.”
    Ha, his singing voice sounded exactly like what she’d likened his speaking voice to earlier—gravel in a blender. Instead of proving it, he crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. Because she’d asked him to stay, and that settled in his chest nicely. He watched with unveiled fascination as she sliced potatoes into a shallow dish he’d never seen before.
    “I brought dishes with me from home,” she explained as if he’d spoken aloud. “I don’t know why. It’s not like there’s anything special about a Pyrex baking dish. But these are mine. I’ve made a lot of stuff in them over the years, and I don’t know… They have memories, you know?”
    He shook his head. He’d taken nothing from the house in Coronado that he’d shared with Carrie, except some clothes, and that had only been because he’d be arrested if he walked around naked. Though jail might have been preferable to wearing T-shirts that his ex-wife had bought.
    When he’d ended up in the Caribbean after that fateful visit from Charlie, he’d dug a hole in the sand and burned every stitch he’d brought from California. Dex had supplied the matches and helped Evan dispose of the ashes without a word.
    “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m overly sentimental.” She laughed as she laid the sliced potatoes into layers across the bottom of the dish. “If I’d have known I’d be using cookware to seduce a man, I’d have found something sexier than Pyrex.”
    His brow quirked automatically, and she glanced at him.
    “Oh, yeah. Make no mistake. Cookware is definitely sexy. Haven’t you seen all those commercials on TV where they deck out a hot, double D blonde in a tiny bikini and drape her over a set of kitchen knives? Oh, wait.” She touched her lip in mock dismay. “I might be confusing my objectification ad campaigns.”
    Evan laughed because, well, he couldn’t help it. The way her eyes lit up at the sound made him wish for a repeat, though he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d laughed. The crappy day melted away by simple virtue of being around his roommate.
    “I like your laugh too,” she informed him as she slid the baking dish in the oven and set a timer on the microwave. “I like that I can get you to.”
    “I like it too,” he admitted and immediately regretted giving away so much intel.
    But it didn’t change facts; there was a lot he liked about Rachel. When had that happened? It was a sobering enough realization to put a damper on the mood she’d unwittingly created, and he felt his good humor slipping away.
    They were treading on dangerous ground, sliding toward a place he’d fight tooth and nail to stay out of.