Crawling on all fours, the cold tile floor beneath her palms and knees bit into her skin as she inched forward. The pain intensified when she stopped, stuck in the awkward position, unable to go further. A loose strand of hair tickled her nose, or perhaps it was dust, either way, she didn’t dare scratch. It’s not like she could, anyway, hemmed in as she was in the confined space.

If she could squeeze her arm between the frame and the wall up ahead, she’d be finished and could get out of here. Lifting one hand, she balanced on the other while stretching carefully, meanwhile, trying to forget the horizontal support brace digging sharply into her ribs.

“Only... a fraction... more,” she said, grunting from the strain.

The clang of metal reverberated loudly in the room. It was the outside door; its self-closing arm in dire need of fixing. Even though she heard it repeatedly throughout the day, it startled her and she jumped.

Another bang sounded. This time from her head connecting sharply with the solid underside of her workstation. A bright flash appeared before her eyes, and she let out a low moan. She raised her hand, intent on rubbing away the burning pain in her scalp, but she smacked her elbow on a brace in the process.

Her initial groan turned into a hiss as a jolt of pain shot up her arm. Whimpering now, she shook her head to clear her vision of the bright white light and stop the ringing in her ears but could do nothing about the uncomfortable tingling running from her elbow to her fingertips. Afraid to move and do more damage, she knelt frozen in place while her body dealt with the pain.

When the bright dots had dissipated, she opened her eyes. Except for a slight dizziness, her vision was normal, which she took as a positive sign. Only the lingering tenderness at the back of her head remained, aside from her current predicament, of course. Completing her task and getting out of here in one piece.

The door creaking open and heels thudding on the floor alerted her to someone else’s presence in the control room. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Twisting carefully, she peered over her shoulder and past her hip at a pair of long, muscular legs in pressed khakis, and a pair of gleaming black Oxfords. She cursed silently, recognizing the uniform of an officer.

Could this be more embarrassing?

“Cassie? Do you need help?” The rich timbre of Flynn’s baritone was like velvet along her skin. His presence always warmed her in places where it shouldn’t, but with her bottom sticking out from the hole under the desk, it heated her face in a mortified blush.

Crap! Why did it have to be Flynn of all people?

Maybe she could pretend she didn’t hear him and he’d go away. If she wasn’t in such a pickle, she’d have laughed at that ridiculous notion. He wouldn’t let her ignore him.

Right then, he lowered into a squat, and ducked his head, peering into the small space. “Cassie?” he repeated, this time with an edge of concern in his tone.

Curse her bad luck.

Because of systems’ issues, all training sessions in the simulator had been canceled today. Having the place to herself, she kicked off her shoes and when the time came to crawl under the furniture to complete a minor repair, she went for it. She didn’t think anyone would walk in and catch her this way. And why, on this huge naval base, with thousands of employees, did it have to be the one man who made her chest ache, palms sweat, and her girly parts tingle?

She couldn’t close her eyes at night without seeing him, and during the day, with the revolving door of men in and out of her lab, she strained to hear his voice or the deep chuckle that came easily for him. It was distracting because she looked up every time the door to her lab opened, expecting to see his long, muscular frame.

Instead of monitoring the simulations and adjusting a setting here and there, she stared off into space, with images of his handsome face haunting her. Or seeing the dimple she hadn’t noticed at first, maybe because it was in his left cheek, which faced away when he’d been driving, or because it was dark when they met or a host of other reasons. Now she knew it popped out when he smiled, or when he clenched his jaw, a telltale sign he was annoyed, most often with one of the BUD/s trainees.

So many times she wished he’d appear and didn’t, why did he have to turn up now?

“You’re holding your head. Are you hurt?”

Realizing she had been staring at him like an idiot without saying a word, she forced a reply. “I smacked my head on the desk, but I’m okay.”

“Come out, and I’ll have a look.” Although the words were softly spoken, it wasn’t a request. Used to being obeyed by the men under his command, Flynn held out his hand expecting her compliance as well.

“I need to change out this power cord, first.”

With another pain induced grunt, she patted the floor until she found the three-pronged plug she’d dropped while trying to tend to her injuries. Once she had it in hand, she stretched for the outlet again, still just out of reach. Moving the workstation would have been easier than crawling on the dirty, dusty floor. She’d tried that option first, but the sturdy, multi-section, metal and wood desk hadn’t budged an inch when she attempted to slide it away from the wall. So here she was, stuck, embarrassed, lacking only another half inch to complete her mission.

Straining, she paid no attention to the sharp edges digging into her flesh in a half-dozen locations and managed to slide the plug into place. She heaved a sigh when she heard the equipment over her head power on.

Her relief was short-lived, however. Next, came extricating herself without further embarrassment, while Flynn watched.

She’d much rather stay in the cubby hole until he left, but he must have come to the lab for a reason. Having no other excuse to hide from him and knowing she would seem even more foolish cowering under the desk, she inched out of the cramped, wire and cord cluttered opening.

Cassie soon realized backing out blindly was much harder than getting in. As her bare skin dragged along the tile, she bumped her elbow, the other one this time, though not as hard. It still caused a sharp pain and subsequent tingling.

“Funny bone, my ass,” she grumbled.

“Let me move the desk.”

“No. I’ve got it.” Shifting backward again with more caution, she stopped when something tugged on her hair. Reaching up carefully, she found her braid had become snagged on a wire hanging down from overhead. She felt around, got poked with the sharp end twice, and pulled, but it only seemed to make it worse.

Just great.

She closed her eyes. “Flynn?”

“I’m right here, Cassie.”

“I’m stuck,” she muttered.

He didn’t allow even a second to pass before his hand slid over her hip, up her back, his long arm easily reaching her head. He moved her hand out of the way and worked her hair free. The next thing she knew, both of his hands clamped around her hips as he guided her out.

When she cleared the workstation, flushed, hot, and feeling as rumpled as an unmade bed, she looked up, watching with unabashed fascination as he unfolded from his squat to tower over her. Something about their positions, she at his feet, small compared to his long, hard-muscled frame, he in his crisp uniform with the officer stripes prominent on his shoulders, and his entire commanding presence, caused a rush of liquid heat between her legs. Not an unfamiliar sensation in the time she’d known him.

She dismissed all thoughts of the tingling, warmth, and moisture below her waist and gazed up at him. It was then she saw his hand extended to help her up, a gentleman as always. When she slid her palm into his, the heat expanded, blazing through her body as his fingers curled around her own, and he pulled her to her feet.

Immediately, she began fussing with her dusty, mussed clothing, smoothing down her skirt where it had ridden up, adjusting her half-untucked blouse, and finger combing the strands of hair that had come loose and were falling into her face from the side braid she’d fashioned that morning.

He stayed her movements by taking her shoulders and turning her toward him. “Let’s have a look at that bump, shall we?”

Standing so close she could feel his body heat, she trembled as his fingers bent her head forward. He searched for a moment, before murmuring, “This will have to go.”

Then, he slipped the elastic band from the end of her braid and unbraided her hair.

“Is that necessary?” she asked. Her tone was sharp as she struggled to hide how much his closeness and touch were affecting her.

“It is if I’m to see the damage. Hold still.”

He parted her hair at her nape, brought the two sections forward over her shoulders, and gently sifted through the strands while probing her scalp. When he came across the sore spot, she hissed in pain.

“You’ve got quite a lump back here.”

He angled her head forward for closer inspection, bringing the top of it flush against his chest. This close, his alluring scent filled her lungs. No cologne or fake fragrances for Flynn, only clean smelling soap, and man. If she could bottle it, she’d bathe in it, wash her clothes in it, or better yet, her bed linens. The thought of his evocative smell surrounding her while she slept roused every nerve ending between her thighs and dampened the crotch of her panties.

It had been this way for weeks now, her insides jangling with excitement, whenever he was around, even in a crowd. When it was just the two of them, like now, it got so much worse.

It wasn’t only his scent or how he looked—although Lord knows the man was handsome as sin—it was also the air of confidence and authority that surrounded him. Granted, working at a naval base dedicated to training Navy SEALs, these characteristics were present in almost all the men she met at work every day.

She suspected God’s gift, take-no-shit, tough as nails, bad ass were required attributes on a SEALs application. But Commander Dalton had been doled out an extra portion of all of that, getting two scoops of dominant alpha maleness, and his magnetism attracted her like a moth to a flame. She’d tried to curtail it but was failing miserably.

Nonetheless, Cassie was a realist. That Flynn would look at her in more than a platonic way was a pipe dream. He could have his choice of women, why waste an amorous thought on a short, rounded, clumsy, computer geek like her?

“The skin isn’t broken,” he murmured as he continued his inspection. “Some ice should reduce the swelling.”

“It’s fine. Really.”

She eased away, and he let her go. As she raised her head and faced him, she caught the slightest flicker of a shadow cross his handsome face. Was it something she had done or said?

He took a step back. “Why didn’t you call maintenance, or ask someone to help you?”

“It was a simple power cord exchange. I thought I could reach it, but overestimated my stubby T-Rex arms, I guess.” Her little joke fell flat, not inciting the tiniest spark of amusement in his usual quick to laugh personality.

“Don’t denigrate yourself,” came his low response. “I’ll expect a call next time rather than you taking risks and ending up hurt. You have an island full of able-bodied men at your disposal. If you need something heavy moved, ask for help. Got me?”

“I got you, Flynn. Thanks.”

His stern expression softened with her agreement. “If you rattle your brains, imp, who will I spar with to pass the time while the men are busy running simulations?”

His week-long stint in her state-of-the-art lab with his trainees was something she looked forward to, but at the same time dreaded. It was both wonderful and torturous being around him. Unrequited love was always that way, she supposed. And it would be for her, because she lacked the nerve to do something about it, knowing she’d be shot down and things between them would turn awkward.

So she continued to endure and enjoy the week in his company when he came through on rotation. He always joined her in the control room, watching the screens and his men’s performance. They’d chat like usual, but instead of pleasantries about work and the weather, they’d have animated discussions about whose reflexes were better, or which man had the best instincts, and which recruit couldn’t shoot for shit. And each night, in the quiet of her apartment, as she remembered every word, each inflection, every glance, and grin, the pain in her heart from wanting him would go unchecked.

“Cassie?” His hand on her arm brought her back to the room.

“What was that?” she asked, having no clue what he’d been saying.

“Are you sure you don’t need to get checked by medical?”

“No, Flynn. It’s sore, but I’m fine, and I have a lot to do to get us back online.”

His eyes shifted to the control panel behind her, then to the glass windows and beyond to the lab itself. “That’s why I stopped in. Dive training ends next week and we move on to Phase 3; will you have the glitch in the new program worked out by then?”

She was happy to focus on something, anything, other than her yearning for Flynn. “I hope so, but this truly has me stumped. I’ve changed out all the hardware I can, replaced every cable and connection, the power cords included, although I doubt that’s the cause. Failing all of that, I have a call in to Gary. Between the two of us, we should be able to figure out if an error in the code is causing it to freeze.”

“I have a group scheduled to come through at 0900 a week from Monday.”

“I’ll do my best to keep you on schedule, Commander.”

His eyes caught and held hers. “You’ll need to alert me as soon as possible if you can’t. I’ll need time to make arrangements for field training instead. I don’t want to risk falling behind and not making our graduation date since SQT starts immediately afterward. The captain will need to be advised as well.”

“Since it’s not my program, it’s taking more time to troubleshoot, but I’m determined to have it back online for the start of your class.” She bit her lip, hoping she wasn’t overselling herself.

Amusement crept into his gaze, and his lips kicked up in a one-sided grin. “The girl genius stumped, I didn’t think it was possible.”

She bristled at being called a girl even in teasing. It was getting old, really fast.

Just last week, she’d met Jules for drinks after work and had her ID questioned. The waiter had even brought over his manager. Cassie thought by the time her thirtieth birthday rolled around, she’d be beyond the impression her small stature and button nose sent out. She grimaced, which the Commander misinterpreted.

“I’m not blaming you, but we have to get this group of trainees up to speed on the new weapons system before they can move on.” He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll let you get back to it, after you ice that lump on your noggin, of course.” Another strongly worded suggestion that was an order he expected her to follow. At the door, he paused and turned back. “Are we on for Friday?”

Lunch, it had become their thing. Every other week like clockwork, she and Flynn went to one of the many parks on the island, found a grassy spot under a tree, and had lunch. He was excellent company, quick-witted, and had a story for everything, but he never spoke of his missions or the combat he’d seen.

Most often, he told her of the places he’d been or the exotic settings, and the local people he’d met. Cassie couldn’t get enough of his tales. Excluding Boston, and the Tijuana trip she’d taken in high school, she hadn’t been out of California. And those weren’t stories to tell. The former was beyond boring, and the latter disastrous since she’d gotten sick from too much tequila and wounded up grounded for a month. It was something to forget and a story to take to her grave without telling Flynn.

Theirs was an easy friendship, even though, to her regret, it had never progressed much beyond lunch, laughs, and animated conversation. There had been an occasional ball game or special event downtown, but she was firmly in the friend zone with him.

“You bring the cookies this time, imp, and I’ll see to the rest.” He then winked as he always did and was gone.

As the door closed behind him, she exhaled a protracted sigh. After the first time he’d called her imp, she’d googled the definition. Among the many meanings, a mischievous child, and a brat. The nickname had confirmed he thought of her as nothing more than a buddy to hang out with, or worse, the dreaded kid sister. Either way, it had forced her to face the cold, hard fact she’d have to give up hope for any romance with Flynn Dalton.

His long strides carried him quickly out of the building and into the warmth of the July afternoon, the temperature well past the average mid-70s. The unusual heat had persisted during the past six weeks of dive training and had been welcomed by the men. But it had still been grueling as always. Spending a transition period in the simulator before the next phase would have given them a much-needed break. Instead, he might have to rearrange his entire schedule.

Ordinarily, he’d be pissed off. But after seeing sexy little Cassie on her knees at his feet, her big blue eyes wide and a bit dazed from a conk on the head, he decided another week to figure out how to stem his desire for the innocent computer nerd was precisely what he needed.

Seven more days! A cynical inner voice scoffed. Try seven years. Even that long will do nothing for the hard-on tenting the front of your pants.

It was true; he hadn’t been able to control the ever-present erection he sported around her, not in meetings, while shooting enemy combatants in urban simulations, or while rigged out in the virtual reality equipment and infiltrating an enemy stronghold in the desert. He’d had six months to try, and his cock still jumped to attention like an acne-riddled, horny adolescent whenever she came near.

Their regular picnics didn’t help, but he enjoyed the one-on-one time with her too much to give them up. Since coming to Coronado, she’d blossomed from the soft-spoken girl she’d first been into an animated, charming young woman. And as she’d grown more accustomed to him, she’d eventually shed her cloak of shyness, though she still blushed when he teased her. Being around Cassie, wanting her when he knew he shouldn’t, made him a glutton for punishment.

The memory of today, and the temptation she presented as she wiggled and squirmed under the desk, her snug skirt stretched taut against the curves of her heart-shaped bottom, would haunt his dreams. As an unapologetic, self-proclaimed ass man, Cassie’s ranked as one of the finest he’d ever laid eyes on, and that was saying something for a well-traveled Navy man. In a side-by-side comparison, Cassie’s booty would give J Lo’s a run for its money. It was all he could do to keep his eyes and hands off it.

Her delectable derrière was only part of her allure, however. There was also the way she gazed up at him behind the dark-framed glasses she wore at work, along with her quick wit, keen intelligence, and geek squad persona. And the youthful appeal of her sun-kissed complexion, her blonde hair in its high ponytail or the cute side braid like how she wore it today. She also had another side, a stunning contrast to everything else with that made-for-sin body. Cassie had killer curves in abundance, not only her fine ass but her more-than-a-handful tits, which she tried and failed to hide behind prim blouses. And her narrow waist made her rounded hips tempting as hell in her knee-length figure hugging skirts, or the snug-fitting trousers she wore on occasion.

This mixture of innocence and unintended sexuality made him wonder if given a chance at having his hands on her voluptuous body, what he would do first. Turn her over his knee for a bare bottom spanking in punishment for tormenting him all these months or spread her out naked beneath him and fuck her senseless. Either way, it would remain what it was, a fantasy in his head, for she wasn’t his type.

Outwardly, she was perfect, but he liked kink, and rough play that would shock her down to her cotton candy pink toes. A fact he’d noticed earlier with her feet bare. Cassie was a girlie-girl used to satin and lace. Flynn’s typical woman was an experienced submissive, comfortable in five-inch heels and a black leather mini-dress, or in nothing except scented lotion, and wrist and ankle cuffs.

If he had Cassie at the club, he’d dress her conservatively, in something classy, maybe in a slinky dress that hit high on the thigh, covered her in front, but plunging in back. He could keep her beautiful lush body to himself and still slide his hand inside to caress the curves of her ass or around in front to cup a breast and tease a nipple.

He couldn’t imagine her nude in public. Check that, he could, but shouldn’t. She was much too sweet and innocent.

Yes, Cassie Hardwick would have to stay right where she was, a fantasy by night, and a friend by day, even if it killed him. As the hard proof of how much he desired her made his pants tight, he thought it very well might.