“Come on, baby. Just give me one more line.”

It’s a husky, sexy whisper that comes from the pillow next to me. Normally, the type of thing that would entice me into walking away from my current story and right into his waiting arms. But not this time.

“You can’t stay here,” I tell him firmly.

I thought I finally had the bed all to myself, since the husband’s away and the three year old cooperated and went into her own bed at a reasonable hour. I snuggled in with my laptop, since it’s practically attached to my head at this point, a few books, the remote and a few of my favorite yellow letter sized pads. And the pretty colored sticky notes.

Add a six-foot, one-inch Navy SEAL clad in jungle BDUs with traces of cammy paint on his face and the balance of power shifts considerably.

“Man this bed’s comfortable.” Jake stretches out and smiles, puts his gun on the night table, letting me know he’s just gotten back from God-knows-where doing God-knows-what (whenever I ask him, he tells me it’s classified and then confides he’s been ‘blowing shit up’) and that he’s not moving out anytime soon.

“Forget it. Go save the world or something.” I try and dismiss him but in true Alpha male fashion, he’s not going to go down without a fight.

“I already did that today. Twice. You haven’t even given me a second thought all month. Haven’t even worried about me.”

“I figured you were safe. Got a few messages from Cece letting me know you were fine. Something about coming to the dark side and cookies.”

He laughs, long and loud. He’s got a great laugh. A great everything, including an entire backstory that has built in conflict and would make any heroine fall for him. But hell, he’s got to get out of my bed now before I succumb to his charms because I’m weak and I’m at that point in the current WIP where I would normally start backing away from it slowly and into the promise of something new and fun and…

“I’m finishing Flying Blind. I told you that already.” I say it firmly, almost convincing myself.

“That marine story?” He snorts and looks at me like I’ve committed some kind of major crime.

“The hero’s an ex-SEAL.”

“Ex-SEAL surrounded by the marines,” he mutters. “I’m still a SEAL. And who names their hero Sin?” He’s shaking his head at me. “Or Oz? Jake’s a much better name. I’m also a much better hero.”

“And so modest too.”

“Hey, modest doesn’t save the world.” He’s kicked off his boots and settled in like he’s going to be here all night. This is not good. “Those pictures Larissa posted are pretty cool, huh?”

“You’re reading blogs now?”

“I’m in between missions. Did you know people are finding your blog because you used the word clusterfuck? You wouldn’t know about that word if it wasn’t for me.”

Why is he always right?

“And you’re not still not getting me laid. You promised to hook me up with that doctor. So I’m staying right here until you do.” He’s all fierce determination now, looks at me with those gray eyes for a hard minute before turning his attention to the book he’s holding. Designation Gold by Richard Marcinko. In fact, it looks like he’s taken control of my whole Rogue Warrior series, like he’s planning on making himself comfortable for the long haul. And he’s hoarding all the cookies too. And smiling. And even though he’s totally ignoring me now, on purpose, his presence is impossible to ignore.

Tough love, Navy SEAL-style.

I’m screwed until he’s screwed, and I wasn’t planning on writing that scene for quite a while.

How am I going to explain this one to the husband?

Steph T.