Page 12 of The Seal's Promise

His body heat was so close, her left shoulder felt warmed by his nearness. She wanted to lean against him; every ounce of her yearned to get closer. So she took a step away.

“It’s my own version of a secret garden. Why shouldn’t a cup of coffee resemble an enchanting escape from everyday life?”

“Well said. I’ll have a large black coffee. Or maybe I should have what you’re having.” He turned to face Brooke. “It looks like you were enjoying it.”

“I don’t think you’d like it,” she said, her voice cracking.

His hand lifted and he wiped at the top of her lip retrieving a dollop of cream, then he licked the cream off his thumb. She froze from the shock of his bold move and the feel of his touch on her mouth. It was as if he’d read her mind and knew she wanted him. And she couldn’t look away.

“Or maybe I’d surprise us both and like it even better than my usual.”

“One extra-large sweet cream latte coming up,” May said, and walked away.

Brooke used the back of her hand to wipe at her mouth while she told herself to keep breathing. So what if Dalton was standing less than a foot from her in a crisp gray T-shirt, running shorts, and sneakers, looking every bit the SEAL with ripped muscles and a tattoo on his forearm she wanted to ask about? So what if his thumb touching her lip had been the most erotic moment she’d had in almost eight years—or ever, if she was honest.

The sound of milk steaming broke through her fog, but her voice was gone. Her brain was stuck in emotional quicksand and all she could think about was how much she wanted him to touch her again.

“Dalton Hart, I thought that was you the other day at the ballfield. Then your brother mentioned you were back in town for a bit,” a deep voice said from behind her. Dalton’s smile faded as he turned.

“Miles Banks,” Dalton said with a nod, but Miles stuck out his hand to shake and Dalton wasn’t rude enough to ignore it. Of all the Banks brothers Miles had been the least horrible.

“Well, this just got really interesting,” May said, setting down another coffee in a mug in front of Dalton.

“May,” Brooke said, finally finding her ability to speak.

“You moving back to Sandy Point? I bet they could use you at the hospital. Your brother said you’re an ER doc now?” Miles asked, setting money on the counter. “May, could you please make my usual, and put theirs on my tab.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Banks, one cinnamon latte coming up.”

“I’m not sure how long I’m staying yet,” Dalton said, and looked at Brooke.

Brooke could feel both men’s eyes on her. “Thanks for the coffee, Miles. I gotta run, but I’ll see you at practice later, I’m sure.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that if you have a few minutes,” Miles said.

Dalton stood unmoving and took a sip of his coffee, watching and listening, as if protocol at a coffee shop didn’t include him moving along to make room for the next customer.

May handed Miles his coffee in a to-go cup with a lid. “Have a great day.”

Brooke knew she had to end this awkwardness, and she knew she could take her mug to work then bring it back to May later.

“If you walk with me to work, we can talk about whatever you want,” she told Miles.

“Great. Take care, Dalton,” Miles said, moving his hand to Brooke’s lower back to usher her out of the coffee shop.

It took every fiber of her being not to look back at Dalton as they left. She barely heard a word Miles said about giving Max’s baseball team a midseason party.

“I also wanted to see how serious you think Max is about baseball and if we should see about some extra coaching in the offseason?”

“Miles, I really appreciate your involvement in Max’s life and his sports, but I don’t want to push him to commit at age seven. I know you think he’s got a lot of potential, and you’re probably right. But it still needs to be fun for him.”

“I totally agree. I guess what I’m trying to say is, if you need any resources, I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have them.”

Money. He was offering to help her with money, because he knew his brother wouldn’t.

“We’re not your financial responsibility”—she held up her hand before he could argue—“but your generosity is appreciated. I really hate the idea of accepting any help but I’ll make you a deal.”

“I’m listening.”

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