Claiming Her SEAL (ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights Book 1) by Kat Cantrell Read Free Book Online

dock where the dive captain waited in ReefCo’s ride to take them out to the reef restoration project along the north side of the island.
    “Hey,” Jace said with a chin lift. “You look like you’re in sore need of a night full of hot women and cold brew. Me and Miles are gonna hit the Crow Bar tonight. We could be convinced to make room for a third wheel, especially one as sorry-looking as you.”
    The Crow Bar was in Freeport on the main island, Grand Bahama—a forty-five minute boat ride. Far enough away from Duchess Island that it was considered a full-blown “night on the town,” with all that entailed. The cajoling smiles of the duo instantly raised his suspicions. Either they planned to get in a lot of trouble and pin it on Dex, or he had a worse case of Emma-itis than he’d thought if it was apparent enough to trip the radar of a couple of blockheads like his friends.
    He eyed Jace. “Don’t you need to sleep?”
    Jace snorted and flipped hair out of his face. He liked it long and swore he’d never cut it again now that he didn’t have to wear it regulation buzz-cut style. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead, thanks. Come on. I like standing next to your ugly mug because you make me look oh so fine in comparison.”
    But if he was off-island with the guys, Emma wouldn’t be able to find him. Which seemed like a fantastic reason to make himself scarce. What, as if he’d half thought he’d hang around the dock like a lovesick school boy in case the girl he had a crush on happened by?
    “Whatever. I could use a beer.”
    Sounded like exactly what he needed, not that he’d let on, because then he’d have to admit he had a problem. Which he didn’t. The main island was far enough away that the odds of running into anyone he knew—like Emma—were zero. He could troll for a woman who liked it fast, hard, and anonymous. The kind of woman who had enough of her own baggage that she didn’t care about his. He’d take her up against the back wall of the club where it was so dark no one would notice them or care if they did. He’d sate himself on the taste of female, and that would cure him of all these visions of white bikinis that refused to let him sleep.
    “You sure you’re okay?” Jace eyed him back. “You’re off your game if you’re going to let the ugly mug comment go. I was expecting at least something along the lines of, ‘the only way you’d look better is with a bag over your head.’”
    “I was thinking it,” Dex retorted hotly, except it didn’t make Jace any less right. Dex was off his game. And he needed to get back on it pronto.

A s Dex, Jace and Miles threaded through the crowd to the inside bar, the driving beat reverberated through Dex’s body, hard and fierce, exactly the way he liked it. Sometimes there was a live reggae band over in the corner under the five-foot skull and crossbones flag, but Stella, the owner of the Crow Bar, had picked recorded music tonight.
    The bar catered more to locals than tourists, but there was an understanding among the guys who worked at resorts—if you spied a hot enough woman, you tipped her off to check out the scene. They all scratched each other’s backs, and Dex hugely appreciated the unwritten rule that resulted in the hangout being populated with eye candy every day of the week.
    Women in thin, skimpy dresses lined the mahogany bar three deep. He’d already made eye contact with a brunette who had more ink under her skin than a fountain pen factory. The once-over she’d treated him to was full of hard edges. Perfect.
    She’d do. Any of them would do except the blondes. Jace and Miles could fight over those.
    Dex muscled his way through the crush without a backward glance at his wingmen—who were probably off on their own missions—and didn’t bother to mince words when he reached the brunette’s side.
    “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked with a wink, sliding right into the cheap lines as