Stranded With The Navy Seal

For one navy SEAL, danger and passion are brewing in paradise

Working on a cruise ship was supposed to be the perfect distraction for chef Cady Crenshaw. Instead, it made her the perfect target. Abducted and thrown overboard into foreign waters, she has only one shot at survival...and it comes at the hands of an irresistible ally.

Navy SEAL Logan Starke’s protective instincts were locked and loaded the moment he met Cady at the ship’s bar. When a violent struggle to take down her captors leaves Logan and Cady stranded on a deserted island, he leaps into rescue mode. But the hot sand and the even hotter attraction between them can’t be denied...and temptation could be the deadliest threat yet.

Logan fell onto his stomach and stayed there, motionless. The two men hauled him upright and pitched him over the railing.

And that was it. He was gone.

She stopped struggling. Tears blurred her vision, and her mind went blank. She didn’t understand what was happening, but resistance seemed futile. There were too many hands on her. One of the assailants gagged her and bound her wrists with rope. He tied her ankles, too. Some kind of bag went over her head.

Then she was lifted and carried onto the balcony. Although she couldn’t see anything, she could feel her body being lowered over the railing. She sobbed into the gag, frozen with terror.

Cady went down and down and down. She didn’t hit the water. There was someone waiting for her on a raft below. The other assailants joined them. After they started moving it dawned on her.

She was being kidnapped.

Dear Reader,

I’m so excited to introduce my first novel as Susan Cliff! I’ve always wanted to write a romance about castaways. This fantasy scenario has all my favorite ingredients: exotic location, danger, forced proximity, outdoor survival...and sex on the beach, naturally!

I grew up watching Brooke Shields in The Blue Lagoon. I adored Scott O’Dell’s Island of the Blue Dolphins. I was mesmerized by the ferocity of Lord of the Flies, and enthralled by the gender dynamics in Swept Away (the Italian version). My formative years were filled with stranded-on-an-island stories, in books and film.

Fast-forward to 2016. When the election cycle was in full swing, I really needed a break from reality. So I went to my happy place, far, far away. I dived into a tale of love and hope and survival. I wrote about two people overcoming impossible odds and learning how to thrive in a beautiful, dangerous place. I wrote about the good guys winning and love conquering all.

I hope this story brings you the same comfort and joy it brought me.

Happy reading!

Susan Cliff

Stranded with the Navy SEAL

Susan Cliff

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SUSAN CLIFF is the pen name of a longtime romance reader and professional writer from Southern California. She has a degree in literature and writing, a job in health and fitness and a happy home with two wonderful daughters. She loves outdoor-survival stories and sexy romance, so she decided to write both. Her Team Twelve series features men to die for—hot navy SEALs who live on the edge and fall hard for their heroines. Visit her at www.susancliff.com.

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

His gaze kept returning to the beauty at the bar.

Logan had noticed her as soon as he’d entered the nightclub. Sexy red dress, dark hair, rocking body. She’d have caught his attention in any situation. Tonight he did a triple take, because she resembled the woman he’d been hired to protect for the next three weeks on this Tahitian cruise.

Unfortunately, the bodyguard detail had fallen through, leaving him stranded on the high seas with nothing to do.

He took another pull of his fancy microbrew and scanned the rest of the room. It had been months since he’d been in a club. Longer still since he’d enjoyed the comforts of female company. He shifted his sore knee, blaming the injury for the drought he’d been experiencing. Never mind the real culprit.

Telskuf.

Instead of dwelling on a mission gone wrong, he focused on a woman made right. Slender, with smooth brown skin and a lot of curly hair. She sat poised on a bar stool, sipping a fruity cocktail. She looked fantastic in red. He’d read somewhere that men couldn’t resist the color. It triggered an uncontrollable response, like a biological urge to mate. He’d dismissed the notion as pseudoscientific foolishness then.

He believed it now.

It was an eye-catching shade, bright and hot, like fireworks. Most of her back was bare. The straps of her dress crossed prettily between her shoulder blades. He wondered how easy it would be to take off.

She glanced over her shoulder at him as if she could sense his attention. When her gaze connected with his, something strange happened. His breath caught in his throat, and every muscle in his body tightened with awareness. It was almost as if he knew her, but he didn’t know her. He’d have remembered meeting this woman. She was fashion-model beautiful. She didn’t smile or invite him over. Seeming flustered, she swiveled back toward the bar and picked up her drink.

He was captivated in an instant, and he couldn’t even tell if she was interested in him. She might be shy. She might be unavailable. Either way, he had to find out who she was, because all of his senses had come alive. The contrast between her demure demeanor and that sexy dress fascinated him.

Most of the women he hooked up with made it clear they were into him. They approached him first, and he liked that. He could get lucky in any of the San Diego bars that catered to military men. He was young, single and in top condition. He hadn’t become a Navy SEAL by sitting on the couch.

Lately, however, he’d lost his taste for one-night stands. He’d just turned thirty, and he was tired of going out. Tired of being single. It would be nice to have someone to come home to after a grueling assignment, but his work schedule didn’t leave much room for dating. He had to be ready to leave the country at the drop of a hat. He was overseas a lot, and long-distance relationships were hard to maintain.

He was kind of stuck. He didn’t have a steady girlfriend, but he needed companionship, even if it was only for a few hours. He needed a woman’s touch. That was why he’d wandered into this bar. He’d come in last night, too, and gone back to his room alone. Although there was no possibility of a meaningful connection here, he couldn’t leave the ship. He’d spent three days prowling around the decks, swimming in the lap pool and working out in the gym until sweat poured down his body.

He was bored. He was...keyed up.

He’d always been a type-A personality, restless and overactive. Since his surgery, he’d been incapable of relaxing. He hadn’t slept well. He’d been plagued by nightmares. Maybe a pretty face could help chase away the demons.

He left his table and approached the bar, bringing his bottle with him. The woman in the red dress was studying her phone. Not a good sign. He figured his chances of striking out with her were about fifty/fifty. She was drop-dead gorgeous. He was no slouch, but he might not be her type.

She glanced up as he leaned his forearm against the bar. Her expression was expectant, and a bit wary.

“Hey,” he said.

She smiled politely. “Hey.”

“I’m Logan.”

“Cadence.”

He definitely didn’t know her. He’d never heard the name before. She didn’t look that much like the former president’s daughter, upon closer inspection. “Can I buy you a drink?”

She lifted her tumbler, which was half-full. “One’s my limit.”

Damn. He wasn’t sure if she was rejecting him or just the drink offer. “Are you the designated driver?”

“I work here.”

“In this bar?”

“On the ship.”

He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by hanging around, but he also didn’t want to give up too soon. He waited a few seconds, hoping for some encouragement. She set her phone aside and gestured for him to sit down.

Score.

He tried not to get too excited about the courtesy, even though she was offering him the opportunity to advance. Maybe she was interested, just not easy. He could handle that. The idea of spending more time than usual, and working harder to win her over, appealed to him. He didn’t mind a challenge.

As he settled in the empty bar stool next to her, he found himself tongue-tied. She was hot, and his game was rusty. It took a few seconds before his brain started functioning again. “What do you do?”

“I’m a chef,” she said, sipping her drink. “At Fillet of Soul.”

He liked that. He liked food. He liked her mouth. Her lips were nicely shaped, closed around a thin black straw. The cocktail in her hand looked like a combination of fruit and mint. “I ate dinner there tonight. The halibut was delicious.”

“I prepared that.”

“I almost licked the plate.”

She laughed at the compliment. “What do you do?”

“I’m in the navy.”

“My dad was in the navy.”

He was glad to hear it. Navy girls were among his favorites. They were well traveled, well brought up and appreciative of military men. “What division?”

She told him about her dad’s service in Kuwait, before she was born. Logan had been to Kuwait, and plenty of other war-torn places. He lifted his beer in respect. She clinked her glass against his.

“Hooyah,” he said.

“Hooyah,” she repeated, smiling.

So far, so good. He was trying not to ogle her like a snack he wanted to gobble up, but it was difficult. The front of her dress was even sexier than the back. Her breasts plumped against the bodice. His eyes slid down and veered back up.

Too late. She caught him looking.

Focus, Starke. Focus on the conversation. “What does he do now?”

“He’s a police officer.”

Logan raised his bottle again.

She moved her straw around in a mix of ice cubes and crushed mint. “So you like ships?”

He shrugged, because he’d never been on a cruise ship before. After spending so much time in tight quarters on military barges, he wouldn’t have chosen this for a vacation. “I was supposed to be working.”

“Doing what?”

Logan couldn’t disclose the specific details. “Guarding someone.”

“A celebrity?”

He made a noncommittal sound. “My client canceled her trip at the last minute, and I was already onboard, all expenses paid.”

“So you decided to stay.”

“Yes.”

Logan had been a Navy SEAL for six years, five of them under President O’Brien. Now O’Brien was a UN dignitary. Secret Service usually provided security to former presidents and their children for a lifetime, so Logan wasn’t sure why SS wasn’t guarding Maya O’Brien. There was some speculation, behind closed doors, that the current POTUS hadn’t signed the protection order for O’Brien’s family.

Either way, Logan had been happy to step in. It was an opportunity to serve a man he respected, and to make a few extra bucks during his time off. Cruising to Tahiti was no hardship. He was still recovering from knee surgery. He’d completed his physical therapy sessions, but he couldn’t return to regular duty for another six weeks. Inactivity drove him crazy. He’d needed a change of scenery.

His current view was spectacular.

Cadence’s phone vibrated on the bar’s surface, indicating a new text. Logan could read the name of the sender: Andrew. She frowned in irritation and turned off the notifications. His protective instincts stirred.

“Someone bothering you?” he asked.

“No one important.”

“Your ex?”

It was a personal question, but she didn’t seem to mind. After a short hesitation, she showed him the conversation. The photo next to the text bubble showed an Asian guy in a pretentious-looking black uniform.

Him: You took a job on a cruise ship? That’s beneath you

Her: You’re beneath me

Him: I wish

Him: I miss you

“He’s a chef, too?” Logan asked.

“A celebrity chef,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Andrew Yu.”

Logan wasn’t impressed. “Sounds like he can’t let go.”

“Well, he’s going to have to, because he cheated. On TV. With his costar.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

He could tell she wasn’t giving Andrew any second chances. She wasn’t a pushover. He liked that. Maybe she was looking for a rebound, a diversion, or a little revenge sex. Logan was happy to be in the right place at the right time. “You should take a picture of us and tell him you’re already on top of someone else.”

She laughed at this suggestion, as if it really appealed to her. She had a sexy laugh, throaty and uninhibited. But she didn’t pose for a photo with him. She tucked her phone into a little black purse and finished her drink in silence.

He hoped he hadn’t blown his chances by being too aggressive. Subtlety wasn’t his strong suit. When he wanted something, he went for it, and he wanted her. He didn’t see any reason to pretend otherwise.

The club’s reggae band launched into a popular Bob Marley song, interrupting the awkward moment. She perked up at the sound.

His knee told him not to, but his mouth said, “Want to dance?”

Chapter 2

She’d seen him at the restaurant.

And on the Lido deck. And in the pool, doing laps.

Every woman onboard had seen him. You couldn’t not see a man like that. He was built like a god, with a sculpted physique that made her mouth water. He had broad shoulders and powerful thighs. Abs from a fitness magazine. Even his face looked strong. The female employees already had a nickname for him: Adonis.

Cady had admired his form just this morning, during her workout. The gym’s treadmills overlooked the pool. He swam like a gold medalist. She’d watched his muscles ripple in the glistening water. When he climbed out, she’d studied every inch of his body, including the brace around his knee. The injury didn’t appear to slow him down.

Rumor had it that he’d been cruising the bar last night—and he’d left alone. She hadn’t come here with a specific plan to catch his attention, but she’d mentioned him to her best friend, Deborah, over the phone. Deb had insisted that she put on a sexy dress and try to “look available, but not thirsty.”

Too late. One glance at him and her throat went dry.

Apparently the dress was working its magic, because he’d been staring at her. She’d picked up her phone to play it cool. Which was the opposite of looking available, but she’d been nervous. Andrew’s annoying texts hadn’t helped.

Months after the fallout, his betrayal still stung.

It stung a little less now, in Logan’s company. She couldn’t even feel it, to be honest. She couldn’t feel anything except the heat of his gaze.

He wasn’t handsome like a movie star. Not quite. His nose appeared to have been broken a few times. His jaw was square, and his smile was charmingly off center. He had the outdoorsy look of a football player or a mountain climber. He was at least six feet tall. She marveled at his size as they faced each other on the dance floor. His shoulders took up a lot of space. He was very solid, and...not very graceful.

She smothered a giggle while he shuffled back and forth to the music. She didn’t mind his stiffness. She loved to dance, with or without a good partner. He was fine as hell, just standing there. The way he watched her, as if her simple moves were mesmerizing, made her want to rock with him all night long.

He was wearing tan pants and a white safari-style shirt. Nothing fancy, but his clothes fit well. He had close-cropped brown hair and a clean-cut, no-nonsense vibe. Underneath that tight control was a hint of raw sexuality.

He wasn’t shy.

When the band switched to a slow song, his hands went straight to her hips. She shivered at the contact. She could feel the warm press of his fingertips through the thin fabric of her dress. She could feel his boldness. Their gazes met and held. He had great eyes. Bedroom eyes that traveled up and down her body in a slow caress. They drifted from her mouth to her breasts, as if these were his two favorite places to look. She didn’t blame him for looking. She wanted him to do more than look.

He drew her closer, aligning their lower bodies. Although he was at least six inches taller than her, she was wearing heels, so it wasn’t a mismatch. She twined her arms around his neck. Her breasts met the hard wall of his chest. His hands flexed at her hips, and his arousal swelled against her belly.

Cady had been around this block before. There were always men who got too excited on the dance floor, or those who felt entitled to come up behind her and grind on her without asking. She’d shaken off her share of losers. It was tiresome. Never once had she encountered a stranger’s erection and become weak-kneed with lust.

Until now.

Logan wasn’t exactly a stranger, but they’d met ten minutes ago. They’d shared one conversation and two dances. They were also in public, on the cruise ship where she worked. None of that seemed to matter to her body, which all but melted in his arms. It didn’t matter to her mouth, which let out a soft moan. Her nipples tightened, and her skin tingled with awareness. A greedy pulse throbbed between her legs. She rocked her hips back and forth against him. He groaned in response.

He didn’t grind on her. He gripped her hips as if he wanted to slow her rhythm, or maybe move her up and down on him. But he didn’t actually move her. He continued to sway to the music, holding her close. She traced his shirt collar and felt the warm skin underneath. Then she threaded her fingers through his short hair. Putting her hands on him felt like heaven. She wanted to touch him all over.

Then the song ended.

People clapped.

The band started playing a lively dance hall tune, totally killing the vibe. She felt like she’d been doused with cold water. Logan narrowed his gaze at the stage, as if the musicians had broken some secret guy code.

Cady wasn’t sure what to do. She could either stay on the dance floor, sandwiched against him, or break apart and reveal his very obvious arousal. “Maybe I should turn around,” she said in his ear.

He let out a pained laugh. “I don’t think that will help.”

She did it anyway, twisting in his arms. There was a door nearby that led to the outside deck. He stayed close behind her as she walked toward it. His erection nudged her bottom with every step. It was an awkward exit, but seconds later they were gazing at the dark ocean, sucking in the cool night air.

Then they were both laughing. She collapsed against the rail, giggling. She laughed until her cheeks hurt and her eyes were wet with tears. When she regained control of herself, she hazarded a glance at him. He was staring at her like she was a starry sky, infinite with possibility. Her heart skipped a beat, and her breath hitched in her throat. She adjusted her bodice, which had slipped down an inch. He watched her movements with interest.

“It’s the dress, isn’t it?” she asked.

The corner of his mouth tipped up. “It’s not the dress. It’s what’s underneath the dress.”

“Very little,” she admitted.

He groaned, tearing his gaze away. “You’re killing me.”

She grasped the cool aluminum, feeling giddy. She might fly away from happiness and excitement.

Andrew who?

She gave Logan a minute to collect himself. She needed a minute, too. She stared at the moonlit sea, in awe of its immensity. This was her first cruise, her first trip to Tahiti. She’d lived along the coast for years and never seen this much ocean. After a few deep breaths, she turned to face him. He looked calm and in control.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

“You want to go back in?”

He arched a brow. “The problem will surely arise again.”

She laughed at his wry expression. “We can avoid the slow dances.”

He glanced toward the bar. The music sounded too loud now, the lights too bright. Although he didn’t reply, she could read his thoughts. He didn’t want to dance. He wanted to take her to his room. She leaned against the railing, tempted.

“Do you do this a lot?” she asked.

“Do what? Get hard in public?”

She flushed at the blunt words. “Pick up women in bars.”

“I’ve done it before,” he admitted. “You?”

“No.” She wasn’t that kind of girl...or she hadn’t been in the past. But she’d never felt this kind of chemistry before, either. “My friends keep telling me to try new things. Live a little. I always play it safe.”

“Taking a job on a cruise ship isn’t playing it safe. Is it?”

“I guess not.” She didn’t tell him that she’d done it to run away from Andrew, not to embrace adventure.

“You don’t dance like someone who plays it safe.”

She smiled in agreement. Dancing was her escape. It was the only time she felt totally free and uninhibited. When he smiled back at her, her stomach fluttered with awareness. He was incredibly attractive, and clearly into her. His admiration was like a shining beacon, lighting her up from the inside out.

She was tempted to leave with him. Her gaze lowered to his hands, which were wrapped around the railing next to her. He had nice hands, with wide palms and long fingers. No ring. “Are you married?”

He gave her an incredulous look. “No,” he said. “Hell no.”

She flushed at his response, aware that her question revealed a distrust of men. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and brought up his Facebook page. It showed a picture of him in combat gear. Relationship status: single.