Anchors Away~Shades of Gray Read online

  Anchors Away~

  Shades of Gray

  by

  Shara Azod

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright© 2009 Anchors Away~ Shades of Gray-Shara Azod

  Cover Artist: Shara Azod

  Editor: Jennifer Puckett

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Due to copyright laws you cannot trade, sell or give any ebooks away.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Navy women everywhere, from ship to shore. Live life to the fullest, hold fast to the adventure and most of all enjoy.

  Love,

  Shara

  Chapter 1

  Grayson saw the women as soon as they walked into the bar. They looked oddly flighty and cheerful against the general malaise that cast a pall over the bar and its patrons. Each one of the five had on a brightly colored, barely there excuse for a sundress, contrasting with the varying colors of their skin. From light gold to deep mahogany, four of the women fluttered like butterflies, quickly attracting the attention of the men who hadn’t moved on to greener pastures but had chosen to stay in the depressing little bar for one reason or another.

  It wasn’t that late but the women had obviously been drinking and partying long before stopping here. Obvious to someone trained to watch people, that is. They weren’t drunk, just happy – for now. Judging from the drinks they kept ordering and the flirtatious smiles and cat calls, they were well on their way to not only being good and drunk, but fucked well by a few of the Navy’s best.

  One of the women, the one with light caramel colored skin eyed her friends’ drinks with envy while pretending to drink a club soda. So much for their designated driver. She’d be drinking before the night was out. The mahogany colored woman was nursing a beer, not really joining in on the revelry. When a group of men came to join their table, she actually sat back a little, slowly inching her chair back and away from the crowd. No one seemed to notice she was far removed from the group, not even attempting to smile while the others laughed riotously and flirted outrageously. It looked as if she was waiting to make a break for it.

  For a Friday night, the Coronado watering hole had been pretty dead. Usually there were plenty of women crowding into the place. Groupies with big fake tits, and fake giggles, crowned with blonde hair compliments of Miss Clairol. It wasn’t so unusual that some of the usual crowd had found greener pastures for the night, it happened every now and then. Grayson usually saw it as a blessed relief from the beach bunnies looking to become the wife of a SEAL. The last thing he wanted was a woman whose only interest in him was what he did, not who he was.

  The five women that had come in together weren’t the only women in the club. It was just that they were so dramatically different from the other women they drew the interest of most of the regulars like moths to a flame. One thing that set them apart from the other females that usually came here was that they didn’t have that desperate air about them. They weren’t here looking for a relationship, or to brag about bagging a Special Forces guy. They weren’t groupies, or even all that impressed by the men surrounding them, which only made the men try harder to impress them.

  No these women were here just to kill time and have a little fun and maybe make a few conquests of their own. Each one of them had active duty military stamped across them; from the way they walked, to the way they looked a man square in his eye. Probably only noticed by a few of the older men like himself, they had that “I can kick your ass if you get out of line” thing going on. Grayson had to smile at the young guns trying so hard. These women had made up their minds before they even got there. They were here on a lark. They would play around a little, and then go about their way. A SEAL pin wasn’t about to impress any of them in the least. It was all in good fun. All of them except for one.

  Grayson really couldn’t explain why she intrigued him. There was something sad about her. Something beyond the slight frown of her disapproval that suggested more than the fact she didn’t want to be here. A deep, underlying sadness lurked in her eyes. It was something that seemed to call to him to make it all better, though he had no idea why. He had never been attracted to a black woman before. Not so much because he was prejudiced or anything, the issue had just never come up. He was a southern boy, born and raised in South Carolina. Interracial dating just wasn’t something that happened in his tiny home town. Since he had left home, he had never really thought about it before. But this woman… Well, he was thinking about it now.

  This wasn’t just about physical attraction. His dick might be half hard just looking at her, getting harder by the second, but he wanted more than to just sleep with her. He sat at his solitary corner table trying to imagine everything about her. What kind of music did she like? Did she dance around her house in her underwear? Did she have a place of her own? Did she have a roommate? Did she live on her ship? There was no doubt she was assigned to a ship; she was every bit the sailor. There was that confident way she held herself; like she would rip you apart if you so much as looked at her the wrong way. All the women at the back table had that confidence. Grayson was convinced she would be the only one who would actually do it.

  There was something more that defied explanation, a vulnerability that hurt him when he looked at her. Given his…quirks, when it came to women, it surprised him. He did not want her the way he usually wanted a woman. Generally, he might be sexually attracted, but his interest waned beyond anything physical. He couldn’t stand to have the women he picked up in bars touch him. He didn’t like the greedy excitement in their eyes, or the conniving for more than one night, and not because they were into him. Status, the fantasy SEAL, that’s what they wanted, not real men. But this woman, she was different in a way he couldn’t hope to define, even to himself. He couldn’t imagine her caring if he was a big and bad Special Forces guy. She didn’t appear impressed with the men at her table.

  He watched as she scooted her chair back a little further, watching her friends intently. Yeah, she was about to make a break for it. A rare smile quirked his lips as he watched her move as if she were the SEAL. She would be long gone before anyone at the table noticed. He just had to make sure he captured her before she scurried away. He really couldn’t say why it was important to him; he just knew that he didn’t want her to walk out of here without him. The prospect of never seeing her again was unacceptable.

  Making slow, easy movements so as not to attract her eye, Grayson made his way to the bar, careful to keep to the shadows. If the woman, who had been drinking the club soda but was now taking sly sips of her companion’s rum and coke, was the designated driver, she would probably make a move to call a cab. That meant she would come to the bar and ask if there was a pay phone around. Then, he would make his move.

  Leaning against the battered and nicked pressed-wood bar, he waited for his prey to come to him. This place really was a dive. The walls were plastered with various SEAL memorabilia; weapons, flags, campaign badges. Most of the wall art was dusty or slightly faded. The wood floor was warped a little, hadn’t been waxed in years. Still, despite the grubby surface, this pla
ce was home away from home for many of the men from NAB Coronado. Grayson found, for the first time in the ten years he’d been a SEAL, the club didn’t seem to welcome him like it usually did. Instead of that warm, cozy feeling he usually got, he couldn’t wait to get out of there, with her.

  His gaze wandered back to the chair steadily making its way backward. Sure enough, less than five minutes later she was making her way to the bar.

  “Sly, a beer for the lady. Whatever kind she was drinking,” Grayson ordered as soon as she stood.

  “What lady?”

  Sly had worked as the bartender here longer than Grayson had been around. At sixty-five, he was as spry as a man half his age. A former SEAL, he didn’t take to retirement, so he came to work at the place where he had spent so much of his time when he was active duty. He also happened to be the owner’s best friend. He was a surly old bastard, but everyone loved him. He ran a tight ship.

  “She’s making her way here now,” Grayson informed him.

  Sly looked in the direction of Grayson’s gaze, giving the younger man a dismissive “Humph!”

  “Don’t look like she’s comin’ up here to see you.”

  “Just get the beer, old man. It’s my money.”

  Sly turned to the cooler to do his bidding, muttering something about wasting good beer. while Grayson turned his attention back to the woman in question. He had seen her figure when she came in, but she had sat down so quickly, he hadn’t really had a chance to appreciate all her curves. Now there was a woman. No skinny stick figure, she had the shape of a fifties sex kitten. Her hips curved out in a way that had his mouth salivating, thinking of all the ways he could hang on to them. Her breasts were high and full, her nipples slightly erect from the chill. No bra, which meant they were perky little things. Well, not so little. A more than a handful, which was just right. Judging from the two inch heels, she was just slightly below average height. Probably about five-four, no taller than five-five. Her legs might not be long, but they were shaped like a runner’s legs, all carved muscle. They could wrap around his waist and hang on for a rough ride.

  All he had to do was convince her to give him the time of day which, judging by that scowl, was probably the last thing on her mind.

  Chapter 2

  Bobbi wanted to be anywhere but here. She hated SEALs. They were all a bunch of arrogant pricks who thought they really could walk on water. The only reason she had agreed to tag along was because she knew sooner or later, Maria, who was supposed to be the designated driver, would start drinking. If that girl didn’t watch herself she was going to wind up in DAPA – the Navy’s Drug and Alcohol counseling service.

  It was supposed to have been a fun night out. At least that was the way it had started out. Until Carmen got the idea to come to Coronado to pick up some SEALs. It was a challenge to her friends. Supposedly, SEALs didn’t date regular old Navy women. They went for the prissy, perfect, California girl type. None of them could honestly claim to be that. There wasn’t a blonde among them. They called themselves the International Girls Club, all except for her hailing from some exotic locale. Maria was Dominican, Trina was half black, half white from Jamaica, Carmen was half Hispanic, half Filipino from Hawaii, and Tara, the silent one, was from Belize. Bobbi sometimes felt like a simple daisy among exotic flora, but they were her best friends, never making her feel less. It was just her nature to always feel a little on the outside despite knowing they loved her.

  Bobbi was from Jacksonville; a Navy brat born and raised. Bobbi had lost her only parent, her father, when she was eighteen. She had joined the Navy as soon as the ink was dry on her high school diploma, though being female she couldn’t follow in her father’s footsteps. He was a submariner; and there were no women on submarines. Something about close quarters and women’s cycles kept that option closed. Because her father’s job required that he be away from home so much, Bobbi had pretty much raised herself. There had never been any doubt what she would do when she was old enough. It was the only life she knew.

  That was neither here nor there right now. At this second, all she wanted to do was to get the hell out of here. She’d call the girls in the morning. It looked like they had a ride home tonight so they didn’t need her. She’d quietly lifted Maria’s keys, though she would probably leave the car here anyway. They could come back for it tomorrow. She just didn’t want the crazy ass girl thinking she could drive anywhere.

  Easing back, Bobbi made her way from the table toward the bar. She would get the bartender to call her a cab. Thankfully, there weren’t many people in this little hole-in-the-wall. With a little luck, she would be well away before her friends noticed she was no longer at the table. No one was paying much attention to her, so more than likely no one would notice the little black chick sneaking out. She wasn’t exactly the type of woman the men here were into. She wasn’t exotic or mysterious. She was just a regular woman, with slightly above average looks and no special attributes or skills.

  Not that she was down on herself or anything. She liked who she was. She liked her life, more or less. There were so many people uncomfortable in their own skin. She had no problems facing herself in the mirror in the morning. She just knew what she wasn’t.

  Making her way to the bar, she leaned over to speak to the bartender as quietly as she could. “Excuse me? Can I use your phone?”

  “Why don’t you drink your beer first, then I’ll take you home.”

  Bobbi jumped at the deep, definitively southern drawl. Turning quickly, she gasped at the man by her side.

  He wasn’t a bear of a man, but he was big. There was something darkly dangerous about him. Every inch of his wiry frame screamed Special Forces, from those piercing blue eyes to the jagged one inch scar that graced the left side of his face. He was tall, over six feet by about four or five inches, his dark hair close cropped so that it was impossible to tell whether it was naturally curly or straight. She couldn’t really tell if it was black or just dark brown from the weak, muted light.

  “I didn’t order a beer.” She felt like an idiot as soon as she said it. Thankfully, he didn’t comment, just set a cold beer in front of her.

  “I ordered one for you.”

  He didn’t smile, didn’t come up with any corny pick up lines. He just stood there, crowding her space, waiting. But, for whatever reason, she was neither annoyed nor uncomfortable with his closeness. It felt kind of nice, actually. Bobbi wasn’t the touchy-feely type, so the fact he was standing so close should have unnerved her. It didn’t. Maybe because he was actually cute, in a dangerous, bad boy kind of way.

  “Uh, thanks.”

  She should have politely refused; she had no idea why she didn’t. Instead she simply picked up the bottle and took a swig. She didn’t bother to wonder how he knew what she was drinking. He was a SEAL, after all, it was his job to notice things. Why the hell hadn’t she noticed him standing there?

  “Are you going to tell me your name, or should I guess?”

  Well, hell, he was being playful. She supposed one could probably never tell by the seemingly perpetual serious expression, but there was something in the subtle shift in his stance, a slight gleam in his eyes that clued her in. His eyes never left her face, as if he was looking for something. Bobbi shivered under his scrutiny. This man was asking for a hell of lot more than her name. She wasn’t all together sure she was prepared to give him any of it.

  “My name is Bobbi.”

  “Bobbi as in Barbara or Roberta?”

  “Bobbi as in Bobbi.”

  When he cracked a smile, Bobbi actually got goose bumps. He looked downright edible when he smiled like that. Or maybe like he would be eating her. Oh, the nasty thoughts that immediately flew through her mind.

  “Well, Bobbi, I’m Grayson Calhoun.” He didn’t offer his hand or anything, just a wicked little half smile. “My friends call me Gray. Are you almost done with that beer?”

  He was serious; he wanted to take her home. She was no dummy, she knew
damned well why. It shocked her. She didn’t usually attract guys like him. Not that she was a dog or anything, but men usually propositioned her friends before even noticing her. She got the quiet types, or the ones looking to see if they could ruffle her cool façade. This dude was a one hundred on the scale from one to ten. Plus he was a SEAL. She hated SEALs. Funny how that didn’t seem to matter much right now.

  Bobbi was going to go with him. Stupid beyond measure letting some guy she just met take her home, but she was not one to ever lie to herself. The physical attraction was immediate and hella strong. Even though he wasn’t touching her, she could feel his body heat bathing her skin in its warmth. His scent made her want to bury her face in his neck and let him protect her from the world. A woman knew within a few minutes whether or not she was going to sleep with a man, she just had to decide when. There was no doubt she was going to sleep with him, and he looked none too patient. How unusual. Yep, she was going to dive right in.

  Bobbi was a mature, modern woman. She was not one for one night stands often, but she’d had a few. Hell, she was a sailor in the United States Navy; it was in the contract or something. She knew enough to be careful and to how to protect herself. She might regret this, but she doubted it. He looked far too intense to be a dud. Plus he never took his eyes off of her, she liked that. Right now she was the center of his universe. Yeah, she could handle that – for tonight.

  “I’m done with the beer,” she declared setting the half full bottle on the counter and turning to face the hottie she would probably never see again after tonight. Crazy, stupid, dangerous, and she was so going to do it.

  “After you.” He moved around her, waving his hand toward the front door and effectively blocking the view so her friends wouldn’t see her leaving. Nice move.