Getting Hotter

“Why would it freak me out?”

“I don’t know. My lack of experience might be a turnoff.”

“Baby, the word turnoff doesn’t apply to you.”

Letting out a soft laugh, she shifted so they were lying face to face. Her hand came up to trace the tattoo on his right side, four rows of small black numbers inked right above his hip bone. “What are those dates?”

The question was expected—it always got asked when women saw him naked—but it still evoked that same twinge of discomfort. “Just milestones,” he said, keeping it vague.

“Ah, finally, a tat with meaning. Care to elaborate?”

When he didn’t answer, she ran her fingers over the most recent date. “What happened on May 3, 2009?”

He swallowed the lump that rose in his throat. “That was the first time I saved a life.”

Her hazel eyes filled with surprise. “Oh. Wow. Are you allowed to talk about it? I remember Missy saying you can’t give any details about your assignments.”

“She’s right. I can’t say much, especially about that particular op. Let’s just say we got someone important out of a dangerous place.”

“Okay. What about this one? September 20, 2007?”

“The day I got my SEAL trident.” He swiftly rolled over on his back before she could ask about the remaining two dates.

Subject change. Now.

Seth scanned his brain. His solution ended up putting Miranda on the spot. “You never talk about your children’s father.”

She exhaled slowly. “That’s because there’s not much to say about him.”

That heavy breath of hers had directed his gaze to her bare br**sts, which momentarily distracted him. His c**k twitched beneath the sheet covering their lower bodies, but he forced himself to ignore the clench of desire and concentrate on the curiosity her words had inspired.

“Are you still in contact with him?” Even as he asked the question, he knew what her answer would be.

“I haven’t spoken to him since the day he signed away his parental rights,” she said flatly.

“So you have no idea where he is?” Seth gently rested his hand on her waist, stroking the curve of her hip and upper thigh.

“Oh, I know where he is. Prison. Maximum security.” Disapproval rang from each word. “He robbed a liquor store outside of Vegas and accidentally shot and killed the clerk. Trent was convicted of armed robbery, manslaughter and a bunch of other stuff I can’t remember. He was sentenced to life, but I think he’s eligible for parole at some point. Not sure when.”

Rather than pose another question or urge her to continue, Seth waited it out. He’d discovered that people were more likely to share their secrets when they weren’t being pressured to spill them, but Miranda was obviously on to him, because she laughed softly and said, “I know you want me to keep talking. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

He chuckled. Busted.

“You’re curious about how I met Trent, right?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

She shrugged. “It’s not some big secret or anything. I was eighteen, just graduated from high school, and I was leaving for college at the end of the summer. I landed a dance scholarship at the University of Nevada. Full ride.”

“Nice,” he said, impressed.

Her voice took on a faraway note. “Yeah, it was nice. I was so excited about it. And then I met Trent. I was working as a waitress at this twenty-four-hour diner on the Strip and one night Trent rode up on his Harley. He was the ultimate bad boy. Leather jacket, arms covered in tattoos, and he was gorgeous. Like drop-dead gorgeous.”

With a sad smile, Miranda slid into a cross-legged position, bringing the sheet up with her and tucking it over her br**sts. “I was such a goody-goody all throughout high school. I had to be—my dad was wild enough for the both of us, and I didn’t want to be anything like him. But when Trent walked into that diner? God, I wanted to be bad and irresponsible. Just once, I wanted to be the girl who rode on a motorcycle with a hot guy, not the one who saved all her tips in a jar so she could pay for college textbooks.”

“So you jumped on the back of that Harley and told your responsibilities to f**k off?”

“Yep.” She looked at him in wonder. “I know, right? Very unlike me. I quit my job, which wasn’t a huge deal since I already had a ton of money saved up. I packed a bag, left home and spent the whole summer riding across the country with Trent. I lost my virginity at the Grand Canyon, by the way.”

“You bad girl, you. You tarnished a national treasure.”

“Ha-ha.” She rolled her eyes, but the humor didn’t last long. “I’m pretty certain that’s where the twins were conceived. I was three months pregnant when Trent brought me back to Vegas.”

“Wait, you were pregnant that whole time and didn’t know it?”

“I was getting periods,” she explained. “Or at least I thought I was. And during the second month of traveling, I had morning sickness, but since I didn’t realize I was even late, I figured it was the stomach flu. The third month, I didn’t get a period, so that’s when I finally took a test.”

“Was Trent with you?”

She nodded. “We were at a rest-stop bathroom. We waited for the results together, and the second we saw that pink plus sign, Trent tossed the stick in the trash and said it was time for me to go home.”