The damn woman had been testing his limits for the past forty-eight hours. Parading around the apartment in next to nothing. Brushing up against him in the kitchen. Talking about sex nonstop. Christ, she’d even managed to make updating her resume look hot—leaning close to her laptop in a way that emphasized the sexy curve of her spine, biting that plush bottom lip as she studied the screen.

He’d been sporting an unceasing erection for two days now. Couldn’t even remember what it was like to not be hard as a rock. His daily workout hadn’t helped take the edge off. Neither had his daily—fine, twice daily—jack-off session in the shower. If anything, he was even more hard-up, especially since Jen had taken to taunting him whenever he stepped out of the bathroom, innocently inquiring whether he’d enjoyed himself.

Any day now, he might actually kill her.

Or f**k her.

Discipline.

“Screw discipline,” he mumbled to himself.

“What was that?” Ryan asked as he steered across the Coronado Bay Bridge.

“Nothing,” Cash said. “Just thinking out loud.”

Ryan gave him a strange look. “O-kay. Anyway, Jane wanted to know if you got her email.”

“The one about Becker-approved baby gifts for Sadie?”

“That’s the one,” Ryan said dryly. “And before you ask, yes, I wholeheartedly agree—Beck was abducted by aliens and replaced with a crazy pod version of himself.”

“Thank you. I didn’t want to be the one to say it, since I don’t know him as well as you guys do. I thought maybe he’s always like this and I just started picking up on it now.”

“He’s not always like this. Personally, I think Jane should divorce him.”

Cash wouldn’t go as far as to agree with that, but nobody could deny Lieutenant Commander Becker was overprotective when it came to his daughter. Not to mention obsessed. Cash had spent the entire trip back from Kabul listening to the CO drone on and on about Miss Sadie; what an advanced child she was, how she smiled at Beck more times than she smiled at Beck’s wife Jane, how she preferred mashed carrots to applesauce. Cash knew a scary amount about that baby, far more than he wanted to, actually.

Since Miss Sadie was turning the big “1” next weekend, the presence of everyone on the team had been requested for the kid’s party. Cash had been worrying about what kind of present to buy, but fortunately the CO had come up with a list of suggestions—all of which had been thoroughly researched and undoubtedly tested for safety purposes. And he’d even compiled a second list entitled “DON’T BUY”. Right. Like Cash would ever give a one-year-old lead paint.

“Lead paint was actually on the DON’T BUY list,” Ryan blurted out in disbelief. “Why would any of us buy that?”

He laughed. “I was just remembering that one. Hey, do you want to chip in and get the Baby Animal Planet DVD thing? I checked online and the box set is like a hundred bucks. I refuse to spend more than fifty dollars on a baby so if you want to go halfsies…”

“Done,” Ryan said. He pulled the Jeep into a parking space on the street running parallel to the beach. “I’ll tell Annabelle she can fend for herself.”

They hopped out of the vehicle and headed for the concrete steps leading down to the sand. They’d both worn swim trunks and cross-trainers, and the second their sneakers hit the sand, Cash peeled off his ratty Cardinals T-shirt and tucked the edge under the waistband of his shorts. Normally they trained closer to the base, but Dylan had insisted they go to the northern end of the island today, claiming that a little eye candy made him more productive.

When Cash spotted Dylan and Seth doing push-ups on a stretch where the sand was more compact, it was clear that the men were the ones providing the eye candy; ten yards from the duo, four bikini-clad tourists were stretched out on fluffy beach towels, tongues hanging out as they ogled the two SEALs, whose bare backs glistened with sweat.

Those hungry eyes shifted to Cash and Ryan, both of whom winked at the ladies as they walked past.

“So things are going good with Jen?” Ryan asked, shrugging out of his T-shirt.

Trying to stay nonchalant, Cash slid his Aviators onto the bridge of his nose. “What do you mean?”

“Any problems from that stalker guy?”

“Oh. No. He sent her an email yesterday but she deleted it.”

“Why doesn’t she remove his address from her contact list?”

“She did, but he keeps creating those free accounts so she doesn’t know what to look for anymore. The spam folder usually catches them, but sometimes they wind up in her inbox.”

“This guy doesn’t give up, huh?” Ryan popped on his own shades, then rolled up his shirt and draped it around his neck.

As they strode across the sand toward the guys, Cash attempted to maintain the casual front, but inside he was annoyed as hell. It bugged him that Jen hadn’t been as troubled by the email as he had. He’d glanced over her shoulder and skimmed the message, and yeah, it had been more whiny than threatening, but he still didn’t like it. Brendan’s obsession with Jen didn’t seem to be waning, only increasing, and the more Cash got to know her, the more determined he was to keep her safe.

When she wasn’t trying to seduce him with skimpy outfits and sexual innuendo, she was actually pretty incredible. Smart, funny, entertaining. She’d even cooked him dinner last night—and then, once they’d decided that her burnt lasagna might give them food poisoning, she’d bought him dinner, which had been nice. Not that he was the kind of man who liked mooching off women, but once in a while it felt nice not to be the one pulling out his wallet.