Viking Heat Read Online Free PDF

Stormy.”
    Joy had never heard of that one before. “What’s in it?” “Good rum, preferably Bacardi Gold, cracked ice, ginger beer, and lime to balance out the sweetness. Yum!”
    Joy laughed. “A little too exotic for me, although I do like the name.” Turning to the waitress, she said, “I’ll have a Sierra Nevada pale ale. And a menu, please.” Growing up in a family of men, Joy had learned to appreciate a good beer.
    The rest of them ordered drinks, and they all decided to share two everything pizzas and a double order of hot wings, heavy on the celery and blue cheese.
    “So they’re still working you hard,” Donita remarked.
    “Like horses,” Kendra answered, then laughed as the band segued into Toby Keith’s “Whiskey for My Men, Beer for My Horses.”
    Donita ignored Kendra pointedly and asked Joy, “Were you able to improve your timed miles with those exercises I recommended?”
    Donita had a love/hate relationship going with Sylvester “Sly” Simms, a former GQ underwear model, of all things. Kendra loved to goad Donita by flirting with the black SEAL, and Sly flirted right back.
    “Actually, I did improve,” Joy told Donita, “but still not good enough. I’m not sure God intended women to run so fast.”
    They all grinned.
    “Unfortunately, God failed to tell that to the Marquis de Sade instructors,” Terri said.
    “When I was back home on the bayou for a little R & R over Christmas las’ year, my brother asked me why my thighs were so muscular,” Marie said in her deep Southern accent. “After I whacked him upside the noggin, I tol’ him it was from doin’ a rodeo on so many Navy men. He actually believed me. Talk about!”
    “I think special consideration should be given to us short people. Our strides are so much smaller,” Terri added. “But Commander MacLean just laughed when I told him so.”
    “Speaking of sadistic instructors . . .” Donita was staring at the entrance where a group of SEALs had just entered. It was a funny thing, but when out in public, the SEALs tended to stick together and were easily recognizable by their extremely buff physiques. It was like a secret brotherhood kind of thing, she supposed. They’d seen and done things only they could share. Active duty WEALS were the same way.
    The SEALS noticed them and immediately headed their way, and they soon had three tables pushed together.
    Slick pushed a chair up next to her and gave her a quick, brotherly hug. “How ya doin’, toots?”
    “Just dandy, if you don’t count my sore feet, aching muscles, and lack of sleep.”
    “In other words, the usual.” Slick grinned. Especially handsome with his dark, brooding good looks, he was in his mid to late thirties, old for a SEAL, but since 9/11, Special Forces of all military branches were in such demand that the rules had been relaxed. He was single and not dating anyone in particular, as far as she knew. Probably commitment phobic, thanks to a bad experience with a divorced wife. Joy’s relationship with him was purely platonic.
    “Do you ever ache anymore when you exercise?”
    “Every day.” The SEALs were required to follow complete BUD/S training workouts whenever they weren’t on a live op.
    “Oh, that’s encouraging.”
    “I hear the commander has a special assignment for you.”
    That got her attention. “Really?”
    He ducked his head. “Oops. Guess I jumped the gun.” “Okay, spill. What’s the assignment?”
    “He didn’t say anything to you?”
    “Just that he wanted me in his office tomorrow morning. I figured I was in trouble for something or other.”
    “You aren’t in trouble . . . unless you consider a live op in enemy territory trouble.”
    “I’m going operational?” she asked excitedly.
    “Uh, I can’t discuss it with you.”
    “Will you be part of the operation?”
    “Possibly.”
    “Well, that’s good then. You’ll watch my back.” He smiled at her confidence in his protection and squeezed her hand.