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gesturing wildly as she talked to another woman.

I didn’t even glance at the other woman. I was too busy taking in the brunette’s features. A mouth that was almost too wide, with luscious lips and high cheekbones, she was striking. Her eyelashes so long they almost hit her eyebrows and big, beautiful eyes whose color I was dying to see up close.

I wanted to do just that. To see her up close and take the shapeless uniform off so I could see what gifts lay underneath. But I knew it wasn’t the time or the place.

Deployed locations had tons of rules and I knew this one would be no different. There’d be a limit to what kind of alcoholic beverages you could have, and how many, and there’d be a no fraternization policy.

Meaning, no hooking up or sexual relations were allowed while on deployment.

It was always the same, but that was one of the perks of being a SEAL. Rules didn’t matter. And I hoped like hell I’d be able to convince this desert queen to throw caution to the wind and break some rules with me.

Chapter 3

Cassandra

“How was your day?” I asked Lori as we rounded the track.

Being on deployment meant routines.

Get up, work out, go to breakfast, go to work, and meet up for lunch. Then, go back to work, go to the dorm, and change into workout clothes. Lori and I met on the track every day to walk it. After our walk, we’d shower and go to dinner and then it was time to relax at the Cantina.

The Cantina was the hangout spot. The club, for lack of a better word. Everyone was rationed three drinks a night, which we got when we scanned our ID at the bar. The drinks were either beer or wine. There was no hard liquor on the base.

It was located outside underneath a large tent, or tarp, and had the bar, lots of tables and chairs, a stage for when we had entertainment, like USO tours and stuff, and there was a system behind the stage where we could play music.

On the weekends there would be different themed nights if there wasn’t entertainment being flown in. We’d have music, drinks, and dance.

After the Cantina, we went back to the dorms to sleep so we could start all over again.

Sometimes on our day off, we’d hit the pool. Since we were deployed away from friends and family and were only granted rare, very rare, outings off base, everyone worked six days and had one day off.

Lori and I did most everything together and I enjoyed our nightly walks when we could watch the sun set and talk about our day. It often turned into a gripe session for one of us and was one of the things that helped us cope with being so far away.

“It was good actually. We have a couple of DVs coming in next week and it looks like they’ve booked the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders for next month. They asked me to do a write up on their trip.”

“That’s cool. We’ve certainly got the right crowd for it,” I said with a laugh, since I’d say about eighty-five percent of the people on this base were men.

“Ho-ly…” Lori’s voice trailed off as she grabbed my arm and came to a stop.

“What is it?” I asked, honestly a little alarmed.

I looked around the perimeter, the fence surrounding the base, and at the guard shack in the corner with armed security forces personnel standing guard.

Everything looked normal.

“Look at that,” she whispered.

I moved my eyes to her face and then followed the direction she was looking.

There, on the other side of the track, were a bunch of well-muscled, sweaty men, shirtless and playing volleyball.

“The SEALs,” I breathed.

“Yeah,” Lori said excitedly.

“They’re supposed to have shirts on,” I managed around the lump that had formed in my throat.

“I know,” she replied, sounding absolutely giddy.

No one was permitted to be without their shirts, bottoms, and shoes. It was one of the many rules on base. One the guys complained about all the time. The fact that they couldn’t take off their shirt when they were working out, running, or playing volleyball.

Truthfully, the SEALs could get away with that and so much more, and not even the most vocal of our Airmen would say a word about it. Might they be jealous? Absolutely, but what the Navy SEALs and other Special Ops teams did for us and our country, meant they shouldn’t have to play by the same rules as the rest of us.

They were here for rest and relaxation and in a few days they’d be back out on the front lines doing things we couldn’t imagine.

So, if they wanted to play volleyball with their shirts off, so be it.

Lori and I sure aren’t going to complain.

“Let’s walk that way … get a little closer,” Lori said, taking me by the arm and pulling me along.

“Good Lord,” I muttered as we walked by the sand volleyball court.

You could hear the guys taunting each other, talking trash as they played what seemed to be a pretty intense game of volleyball.

“Talk about eye candy,” Lori murmured.

Were we objectifying the hot, sweaty men? Absolutely. Did I feel the slightest bit guilty? Nope.

At least we’re self-aware.

There were men of all shapes and sizes, and by that I meant different heights and muscle types. They were a diverse group with varying degrees of facial hair and hair lengths.

Unlike the regular military guys who had to abide by our regs when it came to keeping their hair high and tight and faces clean shaven, these men had to blend in wherever their mission took them, so their guidelines were different.

The one thing they all had in common – they were fine as hell.

“Let’s turn around and walk back by,” Lori said, practically breaking her neck to look back at the game.

“Don’t you think that’s a little obvious?” I asked.

“Who cares?” she asked, giving me a wide-eyed

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