She made the mistake of glancing over at him. Good Lord above. That man’s eyes were as blue as sapphires. And glittering as brightly with irritation. Except, when her gaze met his, his expression changed in an instant, heating into blue flame. He assessed her with a thoroughness that stole the oxygen from her lungs.

“You’re a beautiful woman.”

“Thank you,” she said automatically.

“No. I mean it. You’re really beautiful.”

“I am aware that some people think so,” she replied dryly.

He settled back into his seat, facing forward. She risked a single sidelong peek, and was relieved to see him staring ahead stonily.

Belatedly, he gave the cummerbund a flip into the back seat.

“What is a woman like you doing out here?” he demanded without warning.

“Driving?”

“Why won’t you give me a straight answer?”

She shot back, “Because they’re not my answers to give. Why won’t you just be patient and wait for Commander Kettering to explain everything?”

“Because I got hauled out of my buddy’s wedding and flown across the entire country while I’m supposed to be on leave after a long-ass deployment in a twice-filled shithole. Kettering’s explanation had better be good.”

She had no idea if helping train the first female SEAL would constitute “good” in his world. Somehow she thought not, and opted not to answer.

His big, tanned fingers moved down his front nimbly enough to make her gulp as he unbuttoned the ruffled shirt and shrugged out of it. As the wrinkled cotton peeled away from his body, she practically drove into the ditch. Kowabunga.

She’d expected these SEALs to be built, but not like that. Griffin’s skintight white T-shirt could have been painted onto a set of washboard abs straight off the pages of a porn magazine. Not that she had the time or inclination to look at such things. Well, not often, and not sober. Initiated by her girlfriends, of course.

A thick vein ran the length of his impressively bulging left biceps. She took advantage of him looking off to his right to sneak a full-on gawk, and all of his muscles were sharply defined, ripped, and real. Hell-ooo, sailor.

She was running out of mental superlatives to describe the man.

The Hummer ahead turned onto the unmarked dirt road that led to their classified training area, and she followed. They bumped past an electrified steel fence marked with big red signs ordering everyone to stay out. She parked beside Kettering’s Hummer and jumped out as the other five men and her teammates piled out of the larger vehicle. Her legs actually felt wobbly.