Free Daring Her SEAL by Anne Marsh Page B

space, enemy fire, temperatures cold enough to require the sharing of body heat—he’d done it all. It was all part of that married-to-the-SEAL-team thing.
    So he’d had morning wood. He wasn’t going to apologize for recognizing that she was one beautiful woman and a big improvement on his usual hairy, sweating, cursing teammates. Even when she was half asleep, hair standing on end as she threatened to cut his balls off. Her aversion to morning was kind of cute, and she’d calmed down when he’d fetched her some coffee after she’d finished her shower.
    The wedding coordinator had agreed to meet with them at eight o’clock. While he appreciated the early time, he had to wonder if she’d misunderstood the purpose of their meeting, because she’d arranged to meet them in the resort’s wedding chapel. The place was over water and was all light, airy shit with views of the surf and the lagoon below. At least the glass panels set in the floor guaranteed that if the ceremony got boring, guests had options.
    He didn’t recall meeting the coordinator during his previous visit. He was sure he’d have remembered someone so... pink was the only word he could think of to describe Ms. Megan Hartly. From the pink dress hugging her skinny body to the pink ribbons on her shoes and the pink nail polish decorated with some kind of sparkly pink flower things—the woman was a pinkapalooza. Hell, she probably pooped pink, and he couldn’t begin to imagine the kind of weddings she organized.
    She plunged straight into talking, not giving them so much as a second to explain their purpose in meeting with her. The weather, the shore, something the resort had recently done to the wedding chapel. An endless stream of blah-fucking-blah poured out of her mouth. Levi zoned out and let the words wash over him. She’d stop when she was done.
    And sure enough, eventually the wedding coordinator skidded to a verbal halt and eyed the two of them. “How can I help you today?”
    Ashley inflated beside him like a puffer fish. He was tempted to check her for spines, but he wasn’t that stupid. She might have been staring at his dick earlier, but she hadn’t been happy about her view—or his completely involuntary, purely biological reaction to her proximity and their shared bed. Which was all it was. So what if Ashley’s morning grumpy was kind of adorable, and the way she’d glared up at him sleepily made him want to crawl right back in bed and find out if she enjoyed morning sex? It was Fantasy Island and he’d had a fantasy. Big deal.
    Shoot. The wedding coordinator was staring at him, clearly waiting for an answer to her question. Normally this would be when Ashley took over, barking orders and “suggestions” that were actually more orders, just couched in slightly politer language. He slid her a sidelong glance and discovered her staring at Pink. She looked shell-shocked.
    â€œDo you need more pictures? Do you want to re-create your special day? Vow renewals?” Pink looked expectantly between the two of them.
    Ashley choked out a laugh and cut the woman off. “God. None of the above.”
    Prayer probably would help right now, but he figured the wedding coordinator definitely required them to spell it out in plain ole English, because the woman clearly hadn’t gotten the memo about why he and Ashley were here. Explaining would be awkward as hell. Since Ashley looked like she was choking on her tongue, however, he guessed it was up to him.
    â€œAshley and I were here about three months ago. We helped a photographer friend out by posing for some wedding pictures and going through a fake ceremony.”
    The wedding coordinator blinked. “I can assure you, there’s nothing fake about our weddings.”
    Yeah. Hearing that three months ago would have been awesome.
    â€œThat’s precisely the problem,” Ashley snapped.