Under Pressure

Operation Distraction...by any means necessary!

How do you get a hot but aggravating ex-SEAL to relax? Kennedy Duchane arranged for a documentary about Trident diving team’s first big find, the Chimera. But it turns out movie-star-handsome former SEAL Asher Reynolds can woo just about everything...except a camera. Fortunately, they’ve found the perfect antianxiety remedy—all that sexual tension they’ve been avoiding!

Sex—especially hungry, intense, no-holds-barred sex—with Kennedy breaks pretty much every rule in the book. Employee? Check. Best friend’s little sister? Check, check. Asher knows he’s in over his head. And now what started as a naughty distraction is quickly turning into something far deeper...something strong enough to sweep even the strongest SEAL out to sea.

“You shouldn’t be doing this...”

Kennedy grinned in response and flicked the button on her shorts open. The sound of her zipper, metal grinding against metal, was loud in Asher’s ears.

“Nope. You can’t touch.”

“What?” he asked in disbelief. The woman was giving him a striptease and expected him to keep his hands to himself?

She was crazy. Or wickedly, wickedly devious.

Or both.

“You get through the rest of these interview questions without hesitating and then you can have your reward.”

How was he supposed to resist with her standing in front of him in nothing but red lace panties and a matching bra?

He was human. He’d been fighting his desire for too long. He couldn’t fight anymore.

“Then you better hurry with those questions before I say to hell with it and give you exactly what you’re asking for...”

Dear Reader,

It’s a little bittersweet to see the end of my SEALs of Fortune series. Over the past year, I’ve enjoyed working with these amazing men and the headstrong women who fall for them, immersing myself in their intense, honorable and sometimes hectic world.

At the core of this series is a family that’s formed not necessarily by blood, but brotherhood, battle and shared values. That is no more evident than in Asher Reynolds’s story. A man used to being left behind, Asher learns that he’s worth choosing, worth wanting and worth respecting. Kennedy Duchane is just the strong-willed woman to teach him that valuable lesson. Beneath their verbal clashes is an attraction neither of them wants to admit. A vulnerability that puts them on edge and forces them to acknowledge that people and situations can’t always be controlled. The question is, can they both let go of their pasts long enough to appreciate what’s right in front of them?

I hope you enjoy Under Pressure! If you’ve missed any of the other SEALs of Fortune books, check them out to get a glimpse into Kennedy and Asher’s history, and learn more about the family they’ve formed with Jackson Duchane, Loralei Lancaster, Knox McLemore and Avery Walsh.

I’d love to hear from you at kirasinclair.com, or come chat with me on Twitter, @KiraSinclair.

Best wishes,

Kira

Under Pressure

Kira Sinclair

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KIRA SINCLAIR writes emotional, passionate contemporary romances. A double winner of the National Readers’ Choice Award, her first foray into writing fiction was for a high school English assignment. Nothing could dampen her enthusiasm...not even being forced to read the love story aloud to the class. Writing about sexy heroes and strong women has always excited her. She lives with her two beautiful daughters in north Alabama. Kira loves to hear from readers at kirasinclair.com.

My life has been a little crazy over the past year, a roller coaster of experiences and emotions. But there are a handful of people I know I can count on to be there for me when I’m at my weakest. This book is dedicated to Andrea Laurence, Kimberly Lang, Dani Wade and Marilyn Baxter. I often feel like I’m spread thin and you guys get the shaft, but when I hit a wall and feel like I can’t keep going, just knowing you’re close pushes me to do it anyway. Love you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

1

“YOU’RE MY ONLY OPTION.” Sure, the words might have sounded like a plea for help, but that wasn’t how Kennedy Duchane meant them. At all.

She glared at the man in front of her, ready to use whatever means necessary to compel his cooperation. Despite being a foot shorter and roughly a hundred pounds lighter, she wasn’t opposed to dropping Asher Reynolds to his knees if that became necessary.

She had an older brother who also happened to be a former navy SEAL—he’d taught her plenty over the years.

Asher’s mouth formed a lazy smile. “Aww, cupcake, we both know that isn’t true. I’m sure the devil would be happy to fix whatever’s got your panties in a twist if you just ask nicely.”

Kennedy blinked. As far as she was concerned, Asher Reynolds was the devil, but she had no intention of asking him for anything, nicely or otherwise. She was demanding. He might be her boss—or one of them—but not even that was going to save him from doing what she needed this time.

Florida sunshine poured through the window at Asher’s back, gilding him in a way that was frustrating and enticing all at once. She could practically feel it warming her skin and wished she were on one of their beautiful Jacksonville beaches right now instead of in this office arguing—again—with the frustrating man.

But wishing wasn’t going to take care of the problem. Taking a deep breath, Kennedy marched the rest of the way into his office. As always, he was sprawled out, wireless keyboard in his lap, feet propped up on the corner of his desk. She had no idea how he accomplished anything. But he did.

Kennedy had to give him that, even if it did burn a little. He was brilliant at business. And, given a different set of circumstances, she would have loved to learn from him.

Knocking his black motorcycle boots off the desk, Kennedy relished the way Asher’s body rocked back in the chair as his feet connected with the floor.

“Seriously, you know you’re going to have to do this, right?”

He frowned up at her out of those moss-green eyes that had the ability to make her feel like a butterfly pinned to a board.

Plopping her butt on to the desk corner she’d just cleared, Kennedy crossed her arms over her chest and settled in. This was one fight she would not lose.

“We leave for the Bahamas tomorrow whether you like it or not.”

“Since when do you issue orders, baby girl? I’m pretty sure I’m still the one signing your paycheck.”

“Wrong, Jackson signs the paychecks, but even if you did, you’re still going. I need you on this documentary.” The words grated a little coming out of her throat, but they were true. She did need him. Desperately.

Several months ago, her brother, Jackson, had discovered a sunken Civil War ship lost for more than one hundred and fifty years. The company Jackson, Asher and Knox owned together, Trident Diving and Salvage, now had exclusive recovery rights. If the rumors of gold in the ship were true, it would put an end to their financial worries for good. In the meantime, she hoped the documentary about Trident’s discovery and salvaging of the Chimera would keep them in the media spotlight and bring in new clients.

“I don’t think so,” Asher drawled, his Southern accent smooth as aged whiskey. “Get one of the other guys to do it. Someone who’s actually spent time on the salvage team. Ryan, Juan, Drake.”

She was already shaking her head before he’d even gotten one name past his lips. “No, no and no. I promised the production company Jackson. I’ve already had to do some fancy footwork in order for them to accept you. Luckily, your face is rather appealing and makes up for your smart mouth.”

“Aw, shucks. You’re gonna make me blush.”

“Shut it,” Kennedy growled, knocking the pointed toe of her shoe against his shin. The tap wasn’t hard enough to even leave a mark, let alone a bruise. But she couldn’t quite suppress the small, petty spurt of satisfaction when he winced.

“I’m telling dad.” Asher mock whined.

“Go right ahead. I’m pretty sure he loves me more.”

Asher let out a huff, the first sign that he was really taking her seriously. “Jackson can leave Loralei in charge for a couple weeks.”

“You know we can’t spare either of them right now.”

It was bad timing. There was no doubt. But Kennedy couldn’t muster the energy to regret Jackson and Loralei’s newest discovery, several clustered artifacts found at the bottom of the Mediterranean. They were all salivating over the possibility that this new find could indicate a lost ancient city. Since they’d been challenged for their rights to the Chimera, they were taking no chances with their latest score. They had to keep it quiet until the paperwork was in place. And Jackson needed to stay at the site to protect their claim.

“What about Knox?”

Kennedy sighed, allowing herself one brief moment of disappointment before she pushed it away. Working with Knox would have been a breeze. And come with the added bonus of Avery Walsh, a nautical archeologist with years of experience.

Goddamn the flu.

“It’s you, Asher. Don’t make me call Jackson and Knox.”

As far as she could tell, they were the only people in the world who could compel Asher to do anything. Now that she thought about it, in the two years she’d known him, Kennedy had never heard him speak of any other friends or family. Trident appeared to be his entire life. The man didn’t even have a pet.

Asher leaned forward, sliding the keyboard he’d been holding onto the top of his desk. “Trust me when I say you need to find someone else.”

She’d known, the moment she’d realized Asher was the only option she had, that he wouldn’t want to do it. She’d anticipated his refusal, his arguments and hadn’t counted out the possibility of a full-blown tantrum.

What she hadn’t expected was the earnest, intense way he stared at her as he evenly announced he wasn’t the man for the job. For a second she almost believed he had a valid reason for refusing.

But then she realized who she was talking to and swallowed back the unwelcome well of concern. Asher didn’t deserve it. He was playing her, nothing more.

Leaning forward, Kennedy chucked him under the chin. “Sorry, frogman, time to take one for the team.” And then turned to leave.

Stopping at the door, she tossed a warning glance over her shoulder. “Our plane leaves at nine in the morning. If I have to hunt you down, I’ll make you regret it.”

* * *

ASHER UNCLENCHED HIS fists from the arms of his chair. Blood rushed back into his fingers.

He could feel the tension building inside his body. Just the thought of what she was asking him to do...

First, his shoulders and back tightened. Then his stomach cramped, tying into knots any sailor would be proud of. His throat closed up. His mouth went dry. And his tongue suddenly felt useless, four times bigger than his mouth.

Familiar symptoms for a major problem he couldn’t seem to conquer no matter how hard he tried. His body reacted the same way to any stressful situation. Had since he was six years old.

The sensations were so familiar. Straight out of his childhood nightmares. The memories, the taunts. The humiliation and embarrassment. Everyone staring as his mouth stumbled and refused to form the words his brain was screaming.

He was a goddamned navy SEAL. Was the toughest of the tough, could stare down terrorists, defuse bombs and take a bullet with barely a flinch. But this, this one weakness he’d been struggling with for so long, he couldn’t master.

Over the years he’d perfected avoidance tactics, successfully extricating himself from situations likely to trigger his speech impediment. Hell, even his best friends weren’t aware of his issue.

And he wanted to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, Kennedy’s request—no, demand—was going to blow that possibility straight out of the water.

And to put the icing on this craptastic cake, she would be there to witness his humiliation.

There was no doubt in Asher’s mind that just her presence was going to make the situation ten times worse. There was something about Kennedy Duchane that got under his skin.

Her scent. Her take-charge attitude. Her ability to call him on his bullshit and the way she stared at him out of those whiskey-brown eyes.

The fact that there was no way on God’s green earth he could touch her even though that was the only thing he wanted whenever she was close.

Even now, the scent of Kennedy’s perfume lingered in his office, taunting him long after she was gone.

It bothered him, the way she could affect him without even trying. The way his body always seemed to overrule his brain.

Kennedy was off-limits. His best friend’s little sister, his employee, not to mention nine years younger than he was. There were so many reasons to keep his hands to himself, but the more time he spent with her the harder that seemed to be.

His solution was to avoid Kennedy as much as he could. A little difficult considering she worked for the company he co-owned. So when that wasn’t possible, he did his best to push her away with snarky comments.

Lucky for him, she was easy to manipulate. Because he suspected if she ever realized how much power she held over him...she wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

And he could admit he’d probably earned her wrath.

The project she was ready to throw him headfirst into was a bad idea on multiple fronts. How the hell had he ended up in this situation?

More importantly, how could he extricate himself before everyone in his life discovered the secret he’d been hiding for years?

Picking up the phone, Asher dialed Knox’s cell.

He didn’t bother with pleasantries, just launched straight into the attack when his friend answered. “What the hell, man? You on death’s door?”

“Feels that way,” Knox croaked.

“Bullshit. I’ve seen you crawl through mud with a bullet hole oozing blood. I had a temp of one-oh-one when we took that little village outside of Kandahar. Suck it up, buttercup. We need you.”

“I’m not—” Knox’s words cut off abruptly, and he could hear the sound of scuffling in the background before a smooth, soft voice came on the line. “Asher, whatever you want, the answer is no.”

“Firecracker,” Asher said, a grin tugging at his lips.

Now, Avery Walsh was a woman he liked. And it wasn’t just because she delighted in giving his friend shit. That had a lot to do with his affection for her, but she was a force to be reckoned with all on her own. “How’ve you been?”

“I’m wonderful, but Knox feels like crap.”

“So he was saying.”

“I’ve already talked with Kennedy.” He could hear the suppressed humor in Avery’s voice and wanted to hate her for it, but couldn’t quite muster up the energy.

Damn Kennedy for her organizing tendencies and preemptive strike.

“Listen,” he started, modulating his voice into a smooth tone with only a hint of cajoling thrown into the mix.

“Don’t even start,” Avery warned. Asher wasn’t sure he liked the fact that the women in the group talked to each other on a regular basis. It was definitely becoming a problem for him.

“You’re not getting out of this one, Ash. Not this time.” She didn’t even bother to hide the laughter warming her words. He probably should have taken offense, but didn’t.

“I’m glad you think this is funny,” he drawled, leaning back and propping his feet up into their normal position on the edge of his desk.

His entire body relaxed, sinking down into the forgiving leather of his office chair.

This was familiar territory, bantering with a beautiful woman. Safe and comfortable, especially because he knew nothing he did or said could tempt Avery away from the man she loved.

“Trust me, it’s funny as hell,” she said. “Your pretty face is finally working against you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, you know you’re beautiful, Asher. And you use it to your advantage.”

Shit, he didn’t see anything wrong with that. The navy had taught them all to use the assets they’d been given. He was just following orders, nothing more, nothing less.

“It’s gratifying to see it turned against you for a change,” Avery continued.

“You know, I really liked you, doc...before you turned into such a ball buster.”

Avery chuckled, completely unfazed. “Your charm isn’t going to get you out of this one, sailor. Sorry.”

It had been a long shot, but one he’d had to at least try. Because the alternative... A cold wash of dread rushed through his body.

Saying goodbye to Avery, Asher disconnected and stared at his computer screen without actually seeing what was there.

Shit. He was out of options.

He’d stared down heartless terrorists. Watched as boys who were barely strong enough to hold the guns they were using died in a war they likely didn’t understand. He’d jumped out of perfectly functioning airplanes and plunged his body into raging cold seas. Putting his own life on the line was nothing new. Danger and fear were nothing new. That kind of stress he could easily deal with, because he was equipped to handle it. Felt comfortable and confident in his skills and training.

So why the hell couldn’t he conquer this?

The only easy day was yesterday.

Today, the Navy SEAL motto was cold comfort. Taking a deep breath, Asher forced himself to relax his body. He would find a way to make this work.

Kennedy hadn’t given him any other choice.

And he’d be damned if he’d let her see him at his weakest.

* * *

KENNEDY HALF EXPECTED to have to track Asher down, which was why she’d told him nine when their plane really didn’t leave until ten. Padding in extra time for disaster had simply been good strategy.

Until the man actually strolled up to the gate at eight.

She should have been relieved. She wasn’t. Because that meant they had an hour and a half to kill sitting outside their gate before their flight boarded.

Asher folded himself into the uncomfortable chair next to her, the bench kind with chrome arms sticking out to delineate each seat from the next. Why hadn’t he taken one chair down?

His shoulders rubbed against hers, forcing Kennedy to shift into the opposite corner to get away from him.

The flight was going to be hell.

“Nine, huh,” he murmured in that deep, dark voice that always managed to send a shiver down her spine.

The only outward reaction Kennedy allowed was for her mouth to tighten into a frown.

“I suppose I deserved that,” he said, stretching his legs out until they practically touched the bench on the opposite side of the aisle.

He was tall, at least a couple of inches over six feet. With wide shoulders and a narrow waist that tapered into the most perfect tight ass she’d ever seen. He could wear the hell out of a pair of jeans. Or a business suit. Or a wet suit.

Wait, what had they been talking about?

“Yes, you did. I’m just glad I didn’t have to chase after you.”

The minute the words left her mouth, Kennedy regretted them. She held her breath, waiting for the smart-ass comment she knew was coming.

“Darlin’, if I’d known you wanted a chase, I’d have been happy to oblige.”

Kennedy raked him with the sharp edge of her gaze. “I don’t chase.”

Asher’s lips tugged up at the edges. “No, I can’t imagine you would, baby girl.”

God, she hated when he called her that. But she’d given up reprimanding him for the slight a long time ago.

She needed to pull this conversation—and the entire trip—back to center. And the fastest method for that was reminding him—and herself—just what their purpose was.

Reaching into her bag, Kennedy pulled out the glossy dossier she’d prepared for Asher and handed it to him.

He took it, his big fingers tangling with hers for a moment before finally letting go. Asher stared at her for several seconds and then glanced down, flipping through the papers.

She’d taken the time to write up a detailed agenda for the trip and included that along with a draft script. She’d thrown in some background information on the production team and even included a copy of the proposal she’d submitted when pitching them the idea for the show.

He studied it, silent and still. And yet, Kennedy could practically feel the energy vibrating beneath his skin. Or was that just her imagination?

Closing the cover, Asher let out a low whistle. “You need a hobby.”

“No, I don’t.”

His eyes cut to her above the frosted edge of the plastic she’d placed on the front and back of the document. He held her gaze, to the point where she wanted to squirm beneath the pressure of his scrutiny. But she wouldn’t.

That was the thing about Asher that she’d learned early on...he was excellent at spotting and exploiting weaknesses while keeping any he might possess firmly under wraps. She worked damn hard at making sure not to reveal any to him. Or any more.

It was bad enough that he’d been an unwanted part of the most humiliating night of her life.

No matter how hard she worked or how competent she was, she didn’t think she’d ever live down that night. At least not with Asher.

“Look, this shouldn’t be difficult for you. You’re charming and gorgeous.”

“Thanks.”

Kennedy ignored the self-confident grin that curled his lips. “The camera will love you. You’ve got the script. Do me a favor and look over it on the plane.”

Maybe that would keep him occupied for a while and out of her personal space.

His gaze raked across her body, lingering on the low V-cut neckline of the T-shirt she’d thrown on this morning. It was unremarkable and not her normal office attire. But they were heading for Nassau where they’d meet up with the Amphitrite before sailing out to open sea.

She would not apologize for dressing comfortably, even if the way he was watching her made her regret not putting on the business clothes she typically used as armor.

His chest rose and fell as he leaned farther into her. Kennedy wanted to move away, but her body wouldn’t listen to the commands her brain was screaming.

God, he smelled good. That was the only clear thought running through her overwhelmed brain.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do on the plane, Kennedy? I’m sure we can think of...more pleasant ways to pass the time.”

She blinked. Her body swayed. Somehow her hand ended up planted in the center of his chest. His wide, strong, hard chest.

A jangling sound startled her, breaking the spell. She jerked back, realizing it was the ringtone on her phone.

A smirk tugged at the edges of Asher’s lips even as a single, wicked eyebrow crooked up. The man knew exactly what kind of effect he had on women. Any woman with a pulse.