Code Name: Nanny (SEAL and Code Name #5)(116)

She felt a grin slip across her face. She wasn’t seriously considering marriage. Neither was her stubborn, gorgeous SEAL.

Were they?

From force of habit, she scanned the crowd for threats, but all she saw were beaming relatives, laughing ranchers, local dignitaries, and several famous politicians who had flown in from Washington.

Except that Sophy was missing.

Summer turned sharply, checking for her service revolver. She frowned when she realized she’d left the weapon upstairs when she had changed for the wedding. What would she do if—

“Relax.” Callused fingers settled on her shoulder. “Sophy’s out in the greenhouse with Izzy, shooting hoops. He just called me on my cell phone.”

Gabe looked ruggedly handsome in his tuxedo and formal white shirt. With his dark hair and the sexy little scar at his jaw, the man could have scored big money in an ad for fast, expensive cars.

Or fast, expensive women.

Looking down, Summer noticed something on his wrist. “What’s this?”

His face filled with a tinge of color. “Something.”

“What? It looks like a rubber band.”

Gabe sighed. “It’s yours, okay? The one you had in your hair that night you took on the cactus back in Carmel. I . . . kept it.”

She felt her heart take a slow tumble. “You did? A cheap little rubber band?”

“Yeah, so sue me.”

She ignored an urge to kiss him senseless. “Why are you grinning at me?”

“No reason in particular.” He stared at the crowd. “Can we leave yet?”

“Morgan, we’ve only been here an hour. You can’t be that bored already.”

“Not bored, restless. I have better ways to spend my time than drinking toasts with strangers.” He fingered Summer’s long, dangly earrings. “Most of them involve the backseat of a Jeep.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Which part, where you made those sharp, squeaky sounds when you came, or when those lace panties of yours fell in your face and you threw them out the window.”

Summer closed her eyes. “Neither.”

“Hell, yes, I’ll remind you. They’re some of my finest memories. When I’m an old man in a walker with three teeth left, I’m going to be living off memories of you like that.” He smiled crookedly. “Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman so crazed.”

“You’d be crazed, too, if you kept slipping on your own underwear. Good thing I’m not wearing any now.”

Gabe’s eyes narrowed. “Any what?”

“Anything at all,” Summer said sweetly.

“Now I definitely want to leave.”

“I forgot. I’m wearing stockings and a garter belt. The kind with the little snap things that take forever to undo. My sister sent it to me and she said—” Summer cleared her throat. “Never mind what she said.”

Hell. She was killing him. Cutting him up into tiny, painful little strips. Gabe’s zipper strained, tighter than it had ever been. It would only take a minute to sneak out and unlock their rental car.

And offend people he knew as good friends.

“Since the Jeep seems to be out, let’s dance,” he said hoarsely.

Summer stiffened. “No way. With these heels, I’ll probably trample small children and mutilate innocent animals.”

“Just let me hold you. You don’t have to do anything more.” He drew her into his arms against the smooth beat of vintage Frank Sinatra.

Blue Skies.

“See, you’re doing just fine.”

“No, I—” Summer bumped a potted orange tree near the door, catching it seconds before it toppled. “See? I told you something bad would happen.” Her voice was tight as she stared down. “I just managed to dump a plate of chicken salad from that table onto my dress. I have to go clean up.”

Red-faced, headed for the powder room just off the kitchen. Dozens of candles burned in silver holders as she tried to blot the stain on her dress. So much for playing Cinderella, she thought miserably.

“Move over,” Gabe said gruffly.

“Why?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”

“Sure, but—”

He nudged her aside, closing the door with his foot.

Locking it, while their eyes held. “You aren’t wearing a weapon, are you?”

“N-no.”

“Good. I don’t want to get shot.”

Summer felt excitement bubble through her. “Gabe?”

“So will it be there on the vanity or down on the rug?” He pulled off his jacket. “I’ve always had a great fantasy going about sex in a public place.”

She made a low, strangled sound as he slid down the tiny straps of her dress. “We can’t just—”

“It’s been six hours, eighteen minutes, and twelve seconds, honey. Damned if I’m stopping.”

Cool air brushed Summer’s skin, followed by Gabe’s hands. Outside Frank Sinatra moved smoothly into “Summer Wind” while her zipper came free. “Right here,” she said huskily, then turned, one hand against the timber wall.

“Good call.” Her dress fell a few more inches.