Settling his hands on her shoulders, Gabe reluctantly eased his mouth from hers. Bay's blue eyes were drowsy with desire. It made him feel powerful as a man, keen, hot hunger flowing through him. The golden highlights in her eyes sparkled with happiness. Bay smiled tremulously as he slid his fingers through her thick curly brown hair. It was silky feeling, strong, like her. Gabe ached to do more than kiss Bay right now. But time was against them and he knew it.

"Listen," he told her roughly, kissing her brow, nose and cheek, "I've got to make that helo." Gabe pulled her away just enough to hold her gaze. "Christmas, Bay. You'll be home in time for Christmas. I want you to spend it with me. You get a hop to NAS North Island and I'll be there waiting for you." He dug into her dazed eyes. "Is this what you want? Thirty days of leave with me?"

His heart bounded hard in his chest. Gabe knew she could be planning on going home for Christmas to visit her mother and sister instead. Gabe wouldn't stand in the way of that, either. He'd figure out something else because he was driven to create a s.p.a.ce where they could have quality time to get to know one another. Without any d.a.m.n rules and regulations or interruptions.

"Y-yes, I want to be with you. I'll let my mama know. She'll understand...." Raising her hand, Bay felt his recently shaven cheek beneath her fingertips. His beard was gone and Gabe looked even more handsome to her than before. "I'll be there. I promise," she whispered, an ache in her voice.

"Good." Gabe quickly dug into his cammie pocket, producing a rabbit's foot. "Here, my mother gave this to me when I joined the SEALs a long time ago. I wear it in my Kevlar vest and it's my good luck charm. It's saved me from a lot of bad situations." He gripped her hand, opened it and placed the rabbit's foot in it. "Wear it in the pocket on your Kevlar vest. For me."

Tears gather in her eyes. The poor rabbit's foot was pathetically hairless, but she curled her fingers around it. "I-I promise I'll wear it, Gabe." The words I love you were almost torn out of her. What if she was killed in the next two months? Bay knew it was better Gabe did not know she was falling in love with him; the grief would be easier for him to bear if it did happen.

Framing Bay's face, he kissed her hard, branding her. He was hers. Bay absorbed his strength and courage into that final soul-searing kiss.

As they came apart, Gabe rasped, "I'll be waiting for you, Bay...that's a promise... We'll have email...Skype..." And he turned on his heel, opened the door and silently slipped out of it.

Her mouth tingled wildly in the wake of his last, powerful kiss. The main door opened and shut. Standing there, fingertips resting against her swollen lower lip, Bay felt her knees go weak. Leaning against the desk, her breath coming in gulps, she closed her eyes. She allowed herself to feel Gabe touching her, his hands heatedly memorizing her body, kissing her senseless. She'd never felt more hungry, more needy, than right now. Somewhere in her spinning senses, she realized belatedly that Chief Hampton knew they had a relationship, albeit a chaste one. That was why he'd arranged this unexpected meeting. Bay opened her eyes, resting her hands on the desk. Either Hampton had sensed it or Gabe had told him directly about it. She'd find out more later.

Smiling softly, Bay eased off the desk. She gently placed the lucky rabbit's foot in her cammie pocket and closed it. In the distance, she could hear a CH-47 powering up to take off. It was carrying the SEAL platoon to Bagram. The puncturing whirl of the blades reverberated throughout the camp. Her heart expanded with silent joy over being able to kiss Gabe. How long had she wanted to do that? Four months. And two more to go.

Bay left the now-silent building. The helicopter bearing the SEAL team was leaving, the roar covering Camp Bravo. She headed slowly toward the Black Jaguar Squadron HQ. There, she would receive her new orders. Somewhere in this camp, she'd be taking those new orders to another captain of an Army Special Forces A team. And she'd learn to fit in again, become a team member and be support to that group, just as she had done with this SEAL platoon.

Her heart exploded with joy over being able to say goodbye to Gabe, to be held in his powerful arms and kissed until her world melted into his. Bay knew without question, it was love. She'd never before felt what she felt for Gabe. Over the next two months, they'd make their relationship work. If they could handle the past four months of looking and no touching, the next two months would be bearable. As the SEAL saying went, the only easy day was yesterday.

Christmas. Bay halted as she saw a CH-47 in the distance, moving higher into the early morning light blue sky, heading toward Bagram. The man she loved was on that flight. Pressing her hand against her wildly pounding heart, suffused with love for him, Bay stood there, watching the helicopter finally grow into a small black dot and then disappear altogether into the blue of the sky.

Christmas...

Compressing her lips, Bay forced herself to walk to the BJS HQ. Her body might be here at Camp Bravo, but her heart was held gently between the hands of a SEAL warrior who loved her with a fierceness that took her breath away. Christmas couldn't come too soon....

CHAPTER TWENTY.

GABE WAS WORRIED. He stood inside Lindbergh International Airport, the main San Diego civilian terminal, waiting for the arrival of Bay's commercial airliner. Leaning casually against one of the walls off to one side of the security area, arms across his chest, Gabe absently watched people streaming from the security area. Christmas music played softly in the background. It was raining, the weather cool for San Diego. He wore a black leather jacket along with his Levi's jeans and a red, long-sleeved cotton shirt beneath it.

His gaze moved across the happy crowds, the excited people waiting on this side of security for their loved ones to emerge so they could welcome them home. His mouth compressed with long-held emotions as he waited impatiently for Bay. Gabe began to understand as never before what a family went through stateside. The tables had been turned on him. He was home, safe in the States, and Bay was in harm's way. Gabe was grateful the master chief of his platoon, Braidy Colton, was able to feed him intel, up to a point, on Bay and her whereabouts with the Special Forces A team she had been a.s.signed to.

His brow furrowed as he thought about the last transmission from the SEAL platoon based at Camp Bravo. Bay's team was in that same village they'd been in before, the same one where the medevac crew was killed by a Taliban RPG. After the B-52s had cleared out the Taliban insurgents, that Special Forces team went in and lived in the village, trying to stabilize it. The U.S. Army black ops group was much different from the SEALs in that they were nation builders. SEALs were not. They took the fight to the bad guys. SF teams went in, created connection with the leaders and people. They remained in the village, providing medical, food and any other type of humanitarian services they could render. Many of the team members spoke Pashto and were educated on the tribe's protocols. Bay had taken the place of another 18 Delta corpsman who was wounded in an earlier firefight with that SF team.

Gabe idly pulled his cell phone from his pocket and looked at it again. Bay had his cell number and would text him as soon as she deplaned. It was 8:00 p.m. and her flight from San Francisco was supposed to arrive any minute now. His heart soared with joy. And then it plummeted with anxiety. The master chief had called him at his condo in Coronado three days ago and told him to get into the Team HQ p.r.o.nto. Colton had something to tell him that couldn't be discussed over an unsecured phone.

Gabe had driven to ST3 HQ on Coronado and seen the master chief. Colton had picked up some intel from the village Bay was in at present. The village had been attacked by Taliban. No matter what the master chief tried to do through the SEAL network at Camp Bravo, they could only get sporadic info about the firefight. Gabe was worried about Bay's safety. Had she been wounded? Killed? He'd gone back to his condo, torn up and living in agonizing limbo.

Things were tense at Camp Bravo, the SEAL OIC had told the master chief. Usually, in the winter, all attacks ceased because of the heavy snowfall and conditions impossible for moving an army around the Hindu Kush Mountains. But this time, the Taliban was on the move, something new in their strategy playbook. The attack on the village was showing the Taliban was active despite the terrible weather conditions. It was a buildup to the coming spring offensive the SEAL OIC at Camp Bravo told the master chief. Not a welcome sign.

There was nothing on the screen of his cell phone. Gabe pushed it back into his pocket and waited. He'd gone through three days of h.e.l.l of not knowing if Bay was wounded, dead or all right. Yesterday, out of the blue, he'd received a call from her. She had called him from Bagram Fixed Wing Terminal and was getting ready to board a C-5 to Rota, Spain. She would then catch another C-5 flight across the Atlantic to Andrews Air Force Base near Washington, D.C.

Gabe had felt his dread dissolve beneath her husky voice. She spoke quickly, because boarding was going to take place in a few minutes. And yes, there had been a firefight at the village. She said she was good, and that's all that mattered to him. But "good" in SEAL lingo had a whole lot of interpretations. Gabe had broken his ankle out on a mission, taped it up with duct tape and completed it. When the chief ask how he was, he'd said, "Good." His instincts told him something was wrong with Bay but she couldn't discuss it on the phone. d.a.m.n.

But when she'd called from Andrews yesterday, Gabe's concern grew. He heard exhaustion in Bay's voice and understood how time zones, jet lag and not getting decent sleep all conspired against a person. Plus, she was coming directly out of combat. From war to peace in a very short s.p.a.ce of time and no decompression time.

And then, late in the afternoon, he'd gotten another call from her. She was stuck at Travis Air Force Base north of San Francisco. There were no flights into NAS North Island at Coronado. She'd have to find another way to get to the San Francisco International Airport and then grab a commercial flight down to San Diego.

Gabe knew the special pressures put on someone who'd been in combat who was suddenly thrown violently back into the civilian world. Airports were a special nightmare all of their own. The crowds, the TSA security and the holiday season meant herds of humanity. The last thing someone who'd just been in life-and-death combat situation wanted was to be surrounded by chatty people who had no sense of how the military person was feeling internally. Gabe was sure Bay needed to have silence, to be alone, to be given a chance to decompress, but none of that was happening for her. The extra emotional strain on Bay's nervous system would tear her down. The only question was: How much?

His cell phone vibrated. Gabe pulled it out and saw a text message. It was from Bay. She was deplaning. His heart rate doubled and he forced himself to remain where he was. A large crowd of awaiting, excited families gathered ten feet deep just outside security, anxious to see their loved ones to arrive. Another group, holding signs welcoming soldiers home, stood off to the left. His vantage point gave him a clear view of the narrow area between the wall and security where all pa.s.sengers would flow into the terminal. The noise level grew in volumes as antic.i.p.ation mounted.

BAY WALKED SLOWLY, remaining near the wall as hundreds of people quickly flowed past her. It felt good to get out of the cramped, ridiculously small coach seat of the airplane and move once again. Her body was bruised, her joints stiff. Just being active helped her feel better.

She carried her ruck on her back, her weapons stored back at Andrews Air Force Base where she'd pick them up in thirty days. Wiping her face, she felt incredibly drained but her heart beat wildly in antic.i.p.ation of seeing Gabe. He would understand what she was going through. He would provide her the safety and protection she so desperately craved. And most of all, even though she was fatigued, her spirit lifted as she got through the opening and out of security area.

The noise hurt her ears and she winced. It was almost too much for her to bear. The crowds, the loud laughter, the cries of joy and celebration pounded against her oversensitized nervous system. Bay was suddenly jostled by a scowling businessman who had a briefcase in hand. He struck her left shoulder, trying to squeeze between her and the slower-moving crowd, throwing her off stride. A group of well-wishers waved a sign at a group of National Guard soldiers, men and women, ahead of her. There was a huge swell of cheers. With her ears ringing, all she wanted to do was find Gabe in this thick, milling crowd. Her senses were raw and blown. She didn't even have the necessary focus to find him. For an instant, Bay felt adrift and panicked, turning slowly around, enclosed by the crowd.

Fingers curved firmly around her upper right arm. Bay looked up. Gabe's face was dark with concern as he pulled her against him and then used himself as a shield between her and the other pa.s.sengers b.u.mping and jostling into one another. Bay gave him a strained smile of welcome, her heart opening fiercely with love for him. He was being a SEAL right now, protecting her. He understood where she was emotionally, as if she were in another kind of brutal firefight.

Gabe gently guided her off to one side, away from the milling crowds and rushing pa.s.sengers. Feeling his guard dog energy, Bay released an audible sigh. He maneuvered her next to a wall where they could be alone.

Gabe helped ease the heavy ruck off her shoulders, which caused her to grimace. He took the ruck and placed it across his left shoulder. Positioning himself in front of Bay, she wearily leaned against the wall, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

"Welcome home," he rasped, leaning down and gently kissing her. The noise swelled even higher around them. Gabe could feel her cringe with anxiety. But he also felt her warmth, her personal joy of being with him once again. He kept their kiss short, knowing Bay needed his care. As he ran his hand down her left shoulder and along her back to her waist, she flinched and her face went white. What the h.e.l.l? He instantly lifted his hand away from her waist, frowning.

"What?" he demanded, searching her eyes.

"It's nothing. I'm good. Can we get down to baggage and pick up my duffel bag? I need to get out of here before I lose my mind."

He nodded, swallowing his concern. "Let's go. I know a less crowded way to get down there," he said, touching her cheek. Instant relief came into Bay's face. She was terrifyingly vulnerable. What the h.e.l.l had happened out in that village? Gabe placed his arm around her shoulders, kept her on his right side, away from all the jostling, pushing and moving h.o.a.rds of civilians. Bay remained beneath Gabe's arm while they waited forty-five minutes in Baggage before her green duffel bag was spit out onto the carousel. She seemed content to simply rest her head against his shoulder, absorb his strong, solid body as a support for her tired one. They didn't speak much; they didn't have to.

Gabe retrieved the eighty-pound duffel and hoisted it easily across his right shoulder. Bay waited nearby. She looked better, a flush spreading across her cheeks. He'd shielded her so she could simply rest and hide beneath his arm. But why had Bay flinched when he barely grazed her ribs on the left side of her body? Saying nothing, Gabe guided her outside.

The rain smelled wonderful. It was light, constant, the darkness hiding them as Gabe guided her toward the parking lot outside the terminal. The raindrops felt good the puddles splashed beneath their booted feet. Rain was such a blessing, and so little of it fell in Afghanistan. It was considered a rare event, one to celebrate.

Gabe halted at his dark blue SUV and opened the pa.s.senger door for Bay.

"Hop in," he told her.

She climbed in slowly, favoring her left side. Scowling, Gabe put the duffel and rucksack in the rear of his vehicle. As he closed it, he felt the rain running down the sides of his face. It was picking up, the wind beginning to blow. Once he climbed in, he could see Bay's shadowed profile. Her brow was wrinkled, her right hand resting against her ribs on the left side of her body.

"What's going on with your ribs?" he asked, shutting the door.

Bay's mouth quirked. "I took a bullet to my Kevlar three days ago. It's nothing. I'm good." She turned her head, her gaze meeting his and melting beneath it. Gabe's face was deeply shadowed, his eyes glittering with worry. "I'm okay, Gabe. I'm just-tired," she whispered, "Got it," he said, starting the SUV. Turning on the windshield wipers, he added, "We'll be home in about thirty minutes." Bay had picked up on something a SEAL always told his buddies or the chief. "I'm good" translated: "I'm hurting like h.e.l.l, but I can continue the mission." She didn't fool him, but he didn't gig her on it, either. Right now Bay needed peace, not pressure. Tenderness, not censure.

Sighing, Bay closed her eyes, leaning against the seat, feeling all the tension begin to drain out of her. "I was so looking forward to this...to seeing you..."

"I'm sorry you had such a h.e.l.l of a time getting flights. You didn't need that on top of everything else." Gabe quickly guided the SUV out of the area, heading down the freeway toward San Diego and Coronado. The rain was picking up and the temperature was dropping. Worried, he would look at Bay every once in a while. She closed her eyes, her lips parted, her right hand protectively over her left side.

"You were in a firefight three days ago," he said quietly.

"Yeah...a bad one."

"My master chief got wind of it through the SEAL platoon stationed at Bravo. Can you tell me what happened?"

Bay sighed. "All h.e.l.l broke loose." She opened her eyes, watching the windshield wipers move quickly back and forth. The rain reminded her of tears falling from the sky. "No one was expecting an attack by the Taliban in winter. It had snowed the night before. I was with the SF team in a home in the center of the village. We were eating our MREs when the Taliban attacked. They were sending RPGs into every house they could reach." Wiping her face, she felt the moisture beneath her fingertips.

"The captain of the group called for help from Bravo, but the Taliban were in the village. It came down to the ten of us facing an unknown force. There was no drone up, either. We didn't have eyes in the sky because the CIA didn't fly them because no one attacked during the winter months. Both drones were in for maintenance."

"The Taliban is forever creative," Gabe muttered, hearing the slur of her words. His mind bounced from her receiving a hit to her Kevlar to the stress of the attack. Bay had come straight out of a firefight, stepped on a C-5 and come back to Christmas crowds at a major civilian airport. A perfect storm.

Bay managed a slight snort, but the pain in her left side amped up. Moving her fingers gently across the swollen, bruised area beneath her cammies, she whispered, "They have changed tactics."

"What happened then?" he demanded, seeing the Coronado Bridge that spanned the bay from San Diego to the island coming up. The lights along the graceful spans lit up the lowered clouds hanging just above it. Below, the lights glimmered reflectively across the dark waters of the San Diego Bay.

"It-was awful." Her voice lowered. "You know how you guys showed me how to move with a SIG in rattle battle?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice grim. It meant she was on the run with the SF team, running, firing and hoping like h.e.l.l not to take a hit.

"Well, we went on the offensive. We had no idea what kind of force we were up against. We moved in twos through the village, with NVGs on, finding out where the RPGs were being fired. I was with Sergeant Hugh Cristner, and he knew what he was doing. Eventually, we ran out of ammo for our rifles and went for our pistols." Bay shook her head, her voice lowering with emotion. "I was down to my last mag in my SIG and Hugh was completely out of ammo. It was a scary situation because no one was coming to help us with any reinforcements. At dawn the next morning, after it was all over and we pushed the insurgents out of the village, we found fifty dead Taliban."

"You were on your own," Gabe growled, angry. "If you were with a SEAL team, that would never have happened. They'd have sent in a QRF to support you."

Bay saw the beautiful long spans of the Coronado Bridge coming up. The yellow lights across the bridge reflected brightly into the ocean below it. "Yeah, well, this wasn't a SEAL gig, Gabe. The SF operates differently. They're more conservative about dropping men into a firefight. Besides, we didn't have a drone up. The CIA had no other drones in the area from Bagram, either."

"d.a.m.n them," he ground out, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. "How did you get hit?" Slowing down, he guided the SUV onto the bridge, glad they were almost home. In another ten minutes, he'd have Bay safe and sound in his condo. There, he could help her. Protect her. Love her.

She rubbed her face tiredly, closing her eyes. "It wasn't pretty. I got called out to medically help one of our guys who went down. I was running across the village toward the area where he was shot and I got hit by a bullet in the left side of my vest. It sent me flying. My SIG flew out of my hand and Hugh, who was with me, s.n.a.t.c.hed if off the ground and returned fire. He killed the guy who shot at us."

"I owe that sergeant a handshake," Gabe said, his voice low with feeling. "And then you got up and went and took care of the wounded guy?"

"Of course. I knew I had probably gotten a hematoma, maybe some fractured ribs out of it, but I could still do my job." Her mouth drew in. "I was able to save him. But G.o.d, it was close. Too close. They wouldn't even bring in a medevac until dawn, so we moved him to a house where I could stabilize and care for him."

"I wish I'd been there," Gabe snarled. "You'd never have waited so long."

Bay looked at the homes on either side of the short street. She'd never been to this area before. There were palm trees, luxurious tropical bushes in front of each yard. They looked as though most had been built in the 1920s or 1930s. She heard the frustration in Gabe's lowered voice, felt his helpless rage over the situation. At the end of the block, she saw nothing but darkness in front of them.

"Is that water?" she asked.

"Yes, San Diego Bay. My condo is located about a hundred feet from the ocean." Gabe tried to lighten his tone and take the anger out of his voice. "When I joined the SEALs, I put all my money into buying a six-condo unit here on this island. I felt it was a good investment because over the last decade, prices for rentals have skyrocketed. I made a good decision and I have six condo units along this side of the bay. I have one and I lease out the other five to SEALs."

"Wow," Bay murmured, giving him a look of admiration, "I didn't know you were a real estate mogul like Donald Trump."

He smiled tightly as he drove in to the last three-story building next to the blackened water of the bay.

"One day," Gabe said, putting the SUV in park in the driveway, "I knew I'd leave the SEALs and I needed some kind of income." He turned off the engine and released his seat belt. "Come on, let's get you inside. I know you're beyond exhaustion. What you need right now is a hot bath and a lot of uninterrupted sleep."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

BAY STUMBLED AS she walked into his large condo on the first floor. Gabe's arm went around her shoulders to steady her.

"I can't even walk straight," she muttered in apology.

Gabe turned on the lights. "It's all right," he said, understanding the rigors and pressures that combat put a person through. He guided her through the foyer and into the living room.

"This is beautiful," Bay breathed, looking around in awe. The wooden floor was made of natural blond bamboo, the windows were floor to ceiling and overlooking the dark water of the ocean. The furniture was all rattan with jade-colored cushions. There was a minimalist quality to the condo that reminded her of j.a.panese design. She felt peace and more of her tension dissolving.

"Anything would be after coming out of Afghanistan," he said, guiding her down the wide hall. Gabe pushed the door to the bathroom open with the toe of his Nike shoe. "Everything you need is in there, Bay." He turned her gently to the opposite side of the hall. "Your bedroom is here, right across from it. I've got a robe in the bathroom for you, shampoo and some jasmine soap. All you need to do is walk across the hall when you're done."

Bay leaned against him, smiling wearily. "You've thought of everything, Gabe. Thanks so much." She felt his strength and was grateful for his arm sliding around her shoulders.

"Before you go to bed, I need to look at your ribs, Bay."

She heard the grimness in his tone. "It's just a bruise."

"I'll be out in the kitchen. Give me a call when you're done with your bath. I need to check it out."

She nodded. "I will."

He released her and as she looked up into his face, a powerful wave of care come over her from him. His eyes were narrowed and filled with concern. "I know I'm whipped, but I want you to know how grateful I am for you being here. All throughout the trip, you were all I could think about." Bay reached up and slid her fingers around his thick, powerful neck. "Kiss me. I'm not going to break...." She leaned up, curving her mouth against his.

Kiss me. Her words seemed to reverberate throughout his body. A jolt of heat raced through him as her soft, searching lips sank hotly against his mouth. He wrapped his arms around her, mindful of her injury. He took her lips, felt her breath mingle with his, tasted her. The kiss made him forget everything except Bay and this exquisite moment. Her mouth was pliant, giving and taking against his. Pure happiness began to replace his anxiety for Bay. Very slowly, he eased away from her glistening lips. Drowning in her dark, radiant eyes, he noticed the moisture in them. She was fragile and so d.a.m.n vulnerable.

"Look, get your b.u.t.t in there and take a bath or shower. You're so tired you can't see straight, Bay. I'll be nearby if you need anything." Gabe gently turned her around and led her into the large, s.p.a.cious tiled bathroom. There was a chair where she could sit.

"I'll be okay," she whispered. "A bath sounds like heaven." Several jars of bubble bath sat on a ledge. Touched by his thoughtfulness, she turned and released his hand. "I'll give you a call when I'm done."

AS GABE BUSIED himself with making coffee out in the kitchen, he realized there was almost a shyness between them. His emotions warred within him. They hadn't seen each other in two months. He sensed Bay's reserve with him and understood it was going to take a while to get reacquainted. She needed time to come down from the firefight. Time to adjust to civilian life where no one was throwing an RPG her way. Time for them to slowly get to know each other once again without the stress of combat threatening them. Thank G.o.d, they had thirty days. Because the last thing Gabe wanted to do was rush Bay in any way.

He'd learned the hard way about rushing into things with Lily, and he wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. Allowing Bay to set the pace, set the boundaries, was the only wise thing to do. And more than anything, Gabe wanted her to come to him. Wanted Bay to want him as badly as he needed her. It had to be mutual and it couldn't be rushed. This was one time when patience was a virtue. Being a sniper, he knew all about patience, and Bay was more than worth waiting for.

Gabe worried. He knew what bullet injuries into the vest meant. The bullet could break bones, cause internal as well as external bleeding, a hematoma, which was dangerous if not taken care of. It slugged a person with an invisible sixteen-pound sledgehammer emotionally as well as physically.

The two times he'd taken hits to his Kevlar, he'd gone through weeks of shattered emotions. Of nearly dying. Death was a funny thing, he'd discovered. SEALs were taught they were invincible. Yet, when he'd been hit and lived to tell about it, Gabe understood he wasn't invincible at all. It had changed his perspective in many ways as a warrior. And he knew without a doubt, Bay's view of dying, of living, would change, too. The only question was how.

After pouring himself a cup of coffee, he walked into the open-concept living room, the filmy cream-colored bamboo curtains drawn across the large windows for the night. Sitting down on the rattan sofa, he propped his feet up on the rattan-and-gla.s.s coffee table and waited.

Bay emerged half an hour later, wrapped in Gabe's dark blue terry cloth robe. It was so large it brushed her bare feet as she padded barefoot down the hall and into the living room. Gabe relaxed on the sofa, but his eyes, those always-alert SEAL eyes of his, were focused intently on her. She managed a slight smile. "Your pajamas and robe are way too big for me. I feel like I'm swimming in them. And I'm not a frogman."