Page 29 of Tempted by a SEAL

Chapter 5

Emma awoke with a start as a car door closed, looking around in confusion in the dark. She blinked and sat up straighter, rubbing her stiff neck as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, and her stomach rumbled in hunger. How many hours had passed since they’d left London?

She shifted in her seat, her feet bumping into her backpack. Her eyes followed the movement outside, and she watched as Hunter crossed in front of the bonnet of the car, his profile showing in the lights from a cottage he’d stopped at.

Unwelcome memories of the past few hours came quickly flooding back.

Running down the stairs in the hotel.

Stealing a car.

Falling asleep as the American Navy SEAL she’d met hurriedly drove them out of London.

She glanced down at the oversized shirt she had on, remembering her own soggy sweater stashed in her backpack. Let out a sigh as she leaned back against the seat once more.

Hunter pulled open the door to her side of the car, the interior dome illuminating his muscled forearm. His thick fingers wrapped around hers as he helped her stand, and he reached in and grabbed her backpack, clutching it with his own in one large hand.

His spicy, clean scent washed over her, and she resisted the urge to lean closer. To let his strength and warmth surround her.

She didn’t even know this man, yet she felt safe with him. Which was utterly ridiculous because he was one man against an entire group that appeared to be chasing after her. If they wanted her badly enough, they’d find a way. He’d be powerless to stop them, and she’d be powerless to avoid being kidnapped. She didn’t need to get out of London, she needed to get out of the damn country.

“How long was I asleep?” she asked as he released her hand.

“A couple of hours,” he said, quietly shutting the door. He looked down, meeting her gaze. Somehow he looked even more dangerous in the dark—the scruff of his beard. His chiseled features. The broad muscles across his torso and arms. His muscled chest filled out his tee-shirt in a way that was positively drool-worthy. And for some reason this man had assumed the role as her protector. That was fine for the evening, but what exactly was she supposed to do the next day? The next week?

Literally her entire life was in shambles.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said, brushing some of her hair back from her face. His eyes followed her movements, and she felt herself inexplicably feeling calmer as he watched her. He was attentive and aware. Concerned. Maybe she was nothing more than his latest mission, but at the moment, she could use any and all help she could get.

“Nothing like sightseeing in Europe while on the run from a terrorist cell,” he muttered. “This must be the worst R&R in history.”

Her stomach dropped.

Of course he’d be resentful that he’d gotten mixed up in this mess. He’d already said he was on his way back from some sort of operation. That he was just meant to be listening in on a conversation. She didn’t know much about SEALs, but she knew the military deployed all over the world. Same as the British forces. He was probably tired and ready for a vacation of sorts, and now he was stuck here babysitting her.

“Where are we?” she asked, gazing around the small lot. The small cottage. There were two other cars, but the place was otherwise deserted.

“Bed and breakfast. Not exactly my thing, but if anyone asks, we’re together. There’s just one bed in the room I got us, but don’t worry, I can crash on the floor. I’ve slept in a hell of a lot of worse places than this.”

“Wonderful,” she murmured. “I always hoped to have a brash, bossy, pretend American boyfriend.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, princess. Would you rather I left you alone in the pub back in London?”

“Bloody hell, of course not,” she said, walking across the gravel lot toward the building.

“Aren’t you in a good mood.”

“I’m exhausted. I’m scared. And you’ve just pointed out that you were supposed to be here on a holiday, not running around with the likes of me.”

“A holiday,” he muttered. “Of course you’re my priority now,” he said with a scowl. “You were my responsibility the second you walked into that pub. I certainly would have preferred that we met under different circumstances, but there it is. I’m not going to complain about helping a beautiful woman. Let’s go to our room and send those files. Get the rest of the military in on this. I don’t think anyone followed us here, because I drove around in circles for over an hour. I’ll have to ditch the car once I get you safely inside. We passed some large fields with clusters of trees in the countryside. I’ll leave it there and hike back.”

“Right now?”

“Can’t have it here in the morning. The owner has likely filed a police report. Which means we’ll have to find a new ride back to London to catch our flight.”

“So we’re stranded here.”

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