Griffin was interested to note that Sherri didn’t participate in the ribbing now flying back and forth between the other women and the boys. Did she consider herself above such things? If so, she was in for a rude shock when she hit the unfiltered locker-room humor of the SEAL teams. As it went, the Reapers were taking it easy on these women. Silently, he was proud of their gentlemanly restraint and made a mental note to thank them later.

By the time the formation turned around to head back to base, several miles down an abandoned road, he was startled to realize he was sucking a little wind. Of course, he was more hungover than a drunkard in a distillery.

Miss Priss looked cool as a cucumber beside him, completely unconcerned about the pace. Fine. So she could run. He would break her when it came time to survive hypothermia or make SEAL swim times. Or in the gym where no woman could match the upper-body strength of a hyperfit SEAL. Or just through the sheer mental and emotional pressure that broke even the toughest men.

“What does being swim buddies entail?” Sherri asked him, admirably not out of breath.

“We’ll do everything together in training. It’ll be my job to let someone know when you drown or otherwise die,” he answered, startlingly huffing for breath.

“Gee. Thanks. I’ll make sure to actually save you.”

A crack of laughter escaped him. “You think you could save me from drowning?”

“I know I could. I just have to convince you.”

He snorted. “Good luck with that.”

She smiled slyly at him, and it was his turn to nearly fall on his face. Her sky-blue eyes practically glowed against her golden tan. Her lashes were long and luxurious as she gazed sidelong at him through them. The sculpted curve of her cheek caught his attention. The slender length of her neck. The satin perfection of her smooth skin—

Cripes.

How in the hell was he supposed to focus on his job when his “teammate” was so damned beautiful he couldn’t take his eyes off her? She was stunning for real. As in mesmerizing.

He shook his head. No way could women work on the teams if they were this distracting. When the bullets started flying, his first impulse would be to throw himself on top of her to protect her.

The idea of her body beneath his, warm and sleek, her slender limbs wrapped around him, made him stumble yet again. Whoa! Where did that come from?

“You okay over there, Caldwell?” Sherri asked mildly. “You seem to be having trouble with your balance.”

The woman was mocking him.

His mental balance was all kinds of messed up. But he damned well wasn’t about to admit that to her. He scowled and paid closer attention to his footing, vowing not to look at her again.