Coyote Heat (SEALs On Fire) by Desiree Holt Page B

was worth the price of the shirt just to watch. I think I’m going to head home, if it’s all the same to you. I’m just not in the mood tonight.”
    “You want the keys to the car?”
    Zeus shook his head. “No, I think a walk will be good for me.”
    “Okay. Later.”
    “Don’t dump any more drinks.” Zeus grinned and walked away.
    Grumbling to himself, Coyote pushed and shoved his way to the men’s room, stripped off the soaked shirt, and exchanged it for the dry one. In a spurt of anger, he tossed the wet garment into the trash and dusted his hands, as if erasing any trace of the spitfire who’d doused him. What was with her, anyway? It wasn’t as if he’d done it on purpose.
    And what was up with his cock? Up being the operative word. It acted as if he hadn’t had any in weeks. Oh, wait. He hadn’t. He’d been fighting the grit of the sands in Afghanistan and the brutal winds of the Hindu Kush Mountains. Usually his body didn’t react so instantly to a female, but damn! This one had electrified him from the git-go. And not just because she was wearing her wet dress like a second skin. There was just… something about her that struck at his core.
    How could he find her again? Would the bartender know who she was? Was she a tourist or a local? Shaking his head, he yanked open the door of the men’s room and headed back to the bar. The place was even more crowded than before, a feat he hadn’t thought possible. Now if Coyote could just find Miss Hot Body again, his night would be off to a better start. He inched his way through the tight jam of people, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of her.
    There!
    He spotted her off to the side of the bar, leaning against the railing with her friend. She held a fresh drink in her hand, but she’d apparently gone home to change or done a quick shopping trip on Duval Street. She wore white shorts and a blue tank top that matched the color of her eyes. She stood chatting with her friend, but a muscular blond surfer type was hanging over her shoulder, making Coyote’s anger bubble up.
    I found her first.
    Well, he didn’t know that for sure, but he wasn’t about to let someone bump him off her radar. Ignoring the rude comments as he shoved past people, he worked his way to where she was standing and planted himself next to her, elbowing surfer dude aside. What was her name? Cori. Right. That was what her friend had called her.
    “Hey, Cori. You came back. Good.” He took in every bit of her body. “And I like your outfit.”
    “Like I care.” She looked at him and moved her drink to the opposite hand, away from him. “You aren’t going to douse me twice,” she warned. “Why don’t you go bother someone else?”
    “Please. I’m glad to see you here again so I can apologize once more. Really. I’m not usually that clumsy.”
    “Okay. Apology accepted.” She waved her free hand. “Now go away.”
    “This guy bothering you, Cori?” Surfer dude had moved closer in a protective stance.
    “Yes,” she said.
    “No,” Coyote said at the same time.
    “And she’s already got a new drink,” surfer dude growled.
    “Chill, Deacon,” Cori’s friend said. “The woman can speak for herself.” She smiled at Coyote. “If Cori’s not interested, you can buy me a drink.”
    But he was focused on Cori. “I’m hoping we can start over. My teammates and I are staying at a buddy’s house here in Key West. I’m on a few days leave, and I’d like to spend at least an hour or two of it with you.”
    He always got that out there first, to let whatever woman he was with know this was definitely short term.
    Cori’s expression softened just a little. “You’re in the military?”
    “Uh, huh. Navy.”
    He saw interest flame in her friend’s eyes. “Really? Are you guys SEALs?”
    But before he could deflect the question, Cori turned toward him, studying his face. “Military? Never mind, then. Go bother someone else.”
    Coyote frowned. What was going on