LITMIR.BIZ

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looped her arm through Tori’s and led her to where she could see the beach. She pointed out toward the water. “Hailey’s fate is to kiss one of them.”

      “Lucky her,” Tori said, turning appreciative eyes out to the ocean.

      Amy propped her hand on her hip. “Didn’t you just have a bit of luck yourself? Was that a phone number I saw you squirreling away?”

      A slight flush touched Tori’s cheeks. “I have a date Friday night.”

      “Tori, you’re the only person I know who could snag a date at a wedding shower.”

      This had to be good for business. Following clean up, and a nap, Hailey would be buying more sets of cards. After she ducked out on fulfilling the dictates of the card thrusted upon her, that is.

      Amy put an arm around Hailey’s shoulder. “I see you backing away. Don’t think we forgot about you, kiddo. You still have a Fate waiting for you.”

      When had the bride become so menacing? Maybe Hailey wouldn’t be buying those additional decks after all.

      “Come on, ladies, you know I’m not swimming out there,” she told them, with a touch of fun firmness that said she understood she was in on the joke.

      “Maybe you won’t have to,” Tori said, pointing at the ocean. Two of the men had broken away from the group and were now swimming straight for The Sutherland. Straight toward her.

      Hailey’s eyes widened as she realized one of them wasn’t swimming, and appeared to be unconscious. She sucked in a breath, then watched in amazement as the swimmer rolled the other onto his back, then secured the inert man to his side. With strong sure strokes, he headed for shore. Swimming from that distance would have been exhausting, but pulling the weight of another full-grown man must have been almost impossible. She scanned the beach for some kind of boat. Maybe she could meet them half way.

      Kicking off her heels, she lifted her skirt and flew down the tiled stairs of the terrace to the sand below.

      “Looks like she found her kissing candidate.” Whistles and catcalls from the shower guests followed Hailey onto the beach.

      “Call 9-1-1,” she hollered and she raced toward the man, kicking up sand behind her.

      “What?” The ladies’ teasing turned into murmurs of concern.

      The swimmer was now standing waist deep in the water. She’d never seen anything like him. Clad shoulder to foot in a dark, skintight wetsuit, he emerged from the ocean. The powerful muscles of his thighs flowed with strength. His suit outlined every solid ripple of the lean lines of his shoulders and arms. He reminded her of Colossus, the powerful X-Man who transformed into solid, dark steel. Her second fiancé sold a ton of those comic books in his store, and witnessing someone with such a show of strength in aid of another, she understood Colossus’ appeal.

      The SEAL’s burden still hadn’t moved, and her breath shallowed in panic. The cool water of the Pacific splashed at her ankles as she raced to meet them.

      “Stay back,” he warned.

      “Let me help,” she offered, seeing the fatigue lining his face. “I’m stronger than I look.”

      At five feet two inches, she must look pretty scrawny to this big man. With a reluctant nod from him, she looped the injured man’s arm around her shoulder, taking only a little of the weight. Colossus still managed the bulk of the load. “My friends are calling for help. 9-1-1,” she added.

      “I’ve already radioed for the helicopter.”

      “From in the water?” she asked, feeling almost instantly silly. Seeing the men up close in their wetsuits or rash guards or whatever they called that tight-fitting dive garb, there was no question they were military. Of course they had some kind of waterproof device. “I know CPR.”

      Colossus shook his head as they eased the man to the sand and positioned him on his back. “He’s breathing. He hit his head and blacked out. I made sure he didn’t take in any water.”

      “Oh,” she said, sitting back on her heels, her breath coming out in little pants. Okay, well. Colossus seemed to have everything in hand. What was the protocol in a situation like this? Offer him some mousse as they waited for rescue? It didn’t matter. He wasn’t paying her any attention, instead checking on his fallen comrade, counting out his pulse against his watch and lifting the man’s eyelids.

      Water ran crazy paths down his forehead and cheeks, but he never brushed it away, utterly focused on the task at hand.

      “Is there anything I can do?” she asked, wanting to help.

      The man simply shook his head. He didn’t seem to mind the cold she knew he must be feeling. His breathing was heavy, but he hadn’t handed over responsibility for the other soldier to her so he could take a break. His words had been confident, and his actions seemed to back him up. Unlike Fiancé Failure Number Three who never wasted an opportunity to offer an “expert” opinion, but was only adept at giving completely useless advice.

      After a few minutes, the man beside her signaled to his crew still in the water. With a few waves of the hand, that Hailey was sure meant something, they continued on with whatever it was they were doing.

      Now, after taking care of everything and everyone else, the SEAL lowered himself to the sand and stretched out his long legs. She tried to avert her eyes, she really did, but that dark wetsuit he wore like a second skin left nothing to the imagination. Actually, both her imagination and reality were enjoying a great show. He finally slicked the water from his face, then glanced her way. His eyes widened as if he was seeing her for the first time.

      “Than—”

      “Uhh,” the man between them stirred, reaching toward his head. A trickle of blood mixed with the water from the ocean was beginning to trail down his temple.

      “Don’t touch.”

      “Try not to touch,” she said, injecting calm into her voice.

      They spoke at the same time. Only his words sounded more like an order.

      The injured man blinked a few times against the sun, then his gaze settled on her. “What kind of salvation is this?” He slowly rubbed the saltwater from his eyes. “An angel, and my head hurts like a bi—”

      “That’s enough, Ensign Ortiz,” Colossus said, authority lining every word.

      The Ensign’s gaze cut toward Colossus. “What happened?” he asked.

       Yeah, she was curious about that, too.

      “Head.”

       Okay, not helpful.

      The man on the sand squeezed his eyes tight for a moment, took a deep breath and then with a force of will she’d never seen in another person, pushed himself up to a sitting position. “I’m ready.”

      It didn’t fully sink in that the Ensign, who was unconscious only seconds before, had every intention of going back into the water. And that Colossus was going to let him. “But you can’t,” she said, scrambling to her feet. Colossus had already smoothly stood, his tall frame blocking the sun from her eyes.

      “It’s his job,” Colossus told her.

      With another show of will, the Ensign shoved to his feet. He barely remained upright, then gathered his balance steadily. “Ready,” he repeated.

      “Look this way,” Colossus ordered. He examined the Ensign’s eyes, his face relaxing a tick. “Knots on your head?” he asked.

      The younger man felt along his scalp, shaking his head no.

      Colossus angled his head toward the water. “Okay.”

      With a look of relief, the other man began to walk to the ocean.

      “But he’s bleeding,” she protested.

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