Code Name: Nanny (SEAL and Code Name #5)(85)

But he wouldn’t have it any other way. Simple women got boring, and Summer was anything but simple. Stubborn, secretive, meticulous, and abrasive came to mind, but she was also brave, supportive with the girls, and smarter than most men he’d worked with. Gabe would trust her guarding his six o’clock anyplace, anytime, which surprised him because a military career didn’t exactly breed gender equality.

She rolled onto her side, her lips nuzzling his neck. Gabe took a harsh breath as desire broadsided him. Cursing softly, he tried to pull away, but Summer followed him when he turned to his other side. Within seconds she was wrapped around him again.

And this time her hand was between his thighs and her cotton nightshirt was pushed halfway up her chest. Gabe closed his eyes as he felt her nipples against his back. With tense fingers he tried to pull her hand away from his thighs, only to hear her murmur irritably and push closer.

He took a deep breath, fighting primal temptation.

The woman was completely trusting in sleep. Only a jackass would take advantage of the situation to open her legs and slip inside her.

Even if it did make for one hell of a fantasy.

Summer turned sleepily, saying something about prank mail. More fallout from her partner’s death, Gabe realized.

She muttered again, tossing restlessly. This time it was something about her sister and an old broken swing. Gabe shook his head. He’d had his own share of bad dreams filled with memories of faces and places he’d worked hard to forget in his waking moments.

“Have to go.” Summer sat up stiffly. “Have to check house, test the alarm. See if girls are okay.”

Before he could move, she pushed away the covers, her shirt bunched above full pink breasts. The sight hollowed a path right to his erection, but Gabe didn’t try to hold her back or touch her in any way.

She was still sound asleep, he realized.

“Go back to sleep,” he said hoarsely. “The house is fine and the girls are safe.”

“You sure?” she murmured.

“The girls are fine.” Gabe tugged her shirt down. Though he ached to touch her perfect breasts, he ignored the urge. He had never taken advantage of a woman and he wasn’t about to start, not that Summer would ever appreciate his nobility, since she fell back onto the bed, her arm thrown to one side, sound asleep instantly.

She was one hell of a woman, Gabe thought wryly. And if he didn’t have her soon, he was going to lose his mind.



She was hot, restless. The sheets felt heavy, scraping against her naked skin. Something was pressing her back, rubbing her hips, pinning her to the soft bed, and she murmured in pleasure, welcoming the weight between her legs, welcoming the hands that were giving her so much pleasure.

A fine sheen of sweat covered her breasts.

She tugged up her shirt, trying to cool off.

But the heat didn’t stop as she tossed back and forth, searching for heat and contact.

And she sighed when she felt the muscled shoulder press against her chest and callused fingers stroke her breasts.

“Gabe,” she whispered.



Summer came awake in a rush.

Gabe was right beside her and he was naked—or half-naked, wearing pajama bottoms that rode low on his hips. To her mortification, she was spread over his body like confetti after an out-of-control party.

Her tangled up shirt revealed all of one breast and most of the other.

Red-faced, she shoved down her shirt and inched back to her side of the bed, praying Gabe wouldn’t wake. When his steady breathing didn’t change, she closed her eyes in relief.

One problem solved.

With sleep out of the question, she pulled a book off the nightstand. Unfortunately, it was a lurid male action-adventure.

Book in hand, she dug out her reading glasses and a penlight and tried to focus on the macho hero being groped by a sultry female spy. The text was leaving her cold even before Gabe’s hand slid onto her thigh.

She gulped as heat spiraled through her body, then targeted her nipples.

The man was a threat to her sanity.

Firmly, she moved his hand and went back to her book, where the hero was now cramped in the backseat of a taxi while the exotic spy probed at his zipper. As if real women acted that way with a stranger, Summer thought irritably. What was the author’s idea of foreplay, saying hello?

Gabe muttered in his sleep, and then rolled sharply, his leg sliding over Summer’s thigh. Her throat went dry as she felt his erection drill against her stomach. The man was built, and he smelled wonderful, a mix of lemon and cloves and old leather.

She tossed her light and book on the floor, fed up with the improbable coupling in the backseat of the taxi, but as she moved, Gabe’s hand closed on her breast. Summer sucked in a stunned breath as her body went liquid with need.

He rolled again, pinning her beneath him. When Summer tried to talk, only a croak emerged, and his hands tightened, pulling her over onto his chest, so there was no way she could avoid the wonderfully insistent bulge at her stomach. It irritated her that she didn’t want to.

“What are you doing?” she rasped.

“Umhh.”

“Gabe, wake up.”

His fingers slid into her hair. “Dreaming. This has got to be a dream.” His eyes opened. “Maybe not. Nice glasses,” he murmured. “Very sexy.”

“Yeah, right.”

His lips curved. “Honey, you could wear duct tape and work boots and I’d still have trouble zipping my pants.”