by RG Alexander
“No, I get it.” She knew exactly what he was talking about. A lot of the people around Stephen were like that. Men and women who never stopped talking but rarely said anything genuine. Unfortunately, it came with his job.
Brady Finn wanted something real.
“You and Jeremy have that in common. He wasn’t into settling for less either. Of course his version of not settling was a little slutty, which I can say because we’re so much alike and I’m partially responsible for his impressive track record. Not entirely responsible, mind you. Those comic book conventions he goes to give new meaning to the term wild rumpus. Sadly, I suspect that not only are you not bi, you’re also more of a traditionalist in the romance department.”
“Three for three. Do you read palms at that bakery?” He leaned on his elbow beside her, his smile bemused, but he was finally starting to relax. “I’m still in shock about the whole Jeremy thing, to be honest. I mean, I always knew he had it bad for Owen. But it was just as clear that my cousin was oblivious. Talk about the last person on the planet I’d have ever guessed was gay. My most recent relationship, if you could call it that, was with a tough-as-nails leatherneck with more testosterone than brain cells, and I was less surprised when he made a pass at me than I was to find out the family skirt chaser had settled down with a man.”
“Don’t call Owen gay to his face,” Tasha advised. “He hates labels.”
Brady grimaced. “He should get used to it, because other people love them.”
And wasn’t that the damn truth.
“He’s happy though, right? I mean, what? Over six months now?”
“Yes. And of course he’s happy. Jeremy’s a catch. A talented artist, a sex god with super-sized equipment, endless stamina and the patience of a saint.” Her smile softened when she thought about Owen and Jeremy together. “We’ve been friends most of our lives and I’ve never seen either one of them this…complete.”
“It must be nice,” Brady mused. “Being with someone who knows you so well. Someone you can trust.”
“It must be.” She nodded, knowing she’d thought the same thing more than once. “They’re one of those couples now, the ones who can have a whole conversation with a single glance. They’re also the ones that disappear from the room to get extra plates and show up thirty minutes later with their shirts on inside out, acting as if nothing happened. You really need a front row seat to appreciate it.”
“Something to look forward to.”
His words confirmed that he hadn’t seen them yet. It wasn’t that unusual. No one saw the Finn cousins that often. They lived in the same city but they’d gone to different schools, hung out at different bars, and unless it was an important celebration or a true life-and-death emergency, they rarely got together.
She remembered Owen telling her something about an ongoing disagreement between the elder Finn twins, Shawn and Sol. It must have been one whopper of a fight to have this kind of lasting effect on such family-oriented men.
“When our caper is over,” she said, “I’m going to bring you over to their place for dinner and you can see for yourself. Maybe we can invite a few of your brothers. It’s better than a night at the movies, I promise.”
“I’d like that. It would do us all some good to see true love in action. We didn’t grow up with it the way our cousins did.” Brady’s gray-blue eyes darkened. “But our caper is serious business, Tasha. Don’t make the mistake of thinking it isn’t.”
“I won’t.”
“I think the feds must be desperate to be this irresponsible with Stephen’s welfare and reputation. He’s basically throwing his future to the wolves and hoping for the best here. Burke is bad news. If he sniffs you out before he makes Stephen a solid offer…if you can’t dance to his tune…”
She understood his concern, even shared it. But once Stephen made up his mind, there was no changing it. The Finns were all like that. Stubborn. “Trust me, Hot Body Man—men like Burke? I know their tune by heart. You two couldn’t have picked a better partner in crime. Stick with me and I’ll have him too distracted to remember his fourth wife’s name. What is her name anyway?”
“Wendi, with an i.” The familiar voice in the doorway made Tasha jump. “Am I interrupting?”
Brady frowned as if surprised he hadn’t heard Stephen coming, and he moved to get up. Tasha placed a hand on his arm and batted her lashes at Stephen. “Only my wicked daydreams, Senator. Too bad you two are related. We could have pretended to be poly and really put on a show.”
The former Marine’s ears turned an adorable shade of red before he bounced off the bed and stood beside Stephen. “No one followed us. Now that you’re here, I’ll do a sweep of the block and then I need to run back to my place to grab my bag.”
Stephen nodded. “I got word on the way home that we’ll be picked up tomorrow afternoon, so no hurry. We’ll save some dinner for you.”
They listened to his footsteps fade, Stephen leaning against the doorframe, her still reclining on the bed.
The silence and his proximity were getting to her already. He wasn’t moving any closer, not even when they heard the front door close behind Brady. And his expression was impossible to read.
“So this is a new record for us.”
He raised one eyebrow. “What is?”
“Alone, twice in one day. Both of us still wearing our clothes. Talking.”
She expected him to laugh. Wanted him to. She wasn’t ready for the flash of regret in his eyes. “Natasha…”
Her smile didn’t feel convincing, but she used it like a shield, getting to her feet and reaching for one of her bags. “You’re too easy to tease, Senator. Did you say something about dinner? Brady and I split a sandwich and a few brownies while I was packing, but that was hours ago. I’m hoping you brought something more substantial.”
“Yes,” he replied in a subdued tone. “It needs a reheat in the oven, but I think you’ll approve.”
“Great.” She grabbed the faded, stretched-out jersey and pair of shorts. “Why don’t you go make that happen while I change out of this dress? I’m not sure if you noticed, but it’s a little snug across the girls and it’s been cutting off my circulation all day.”
She put her hands behind her back and started lowering the zipper of her sundress without waiting for him to leave. Stephen swallowed as he watched the fabric loosen around her breasts. He took an instinctive step forward and Tasha tilted her head in question, her heart starting to pound in anticipation. “Or is that enough record breaking for one day?”
He stilled, then turned and disappeared down the stairs without a word. Tasha held in her disappointment, letting her dress pool around her ankles. She understood his hesitation. The situation was new and neither one of them knew how to behave. She was feeling it too. Along with all the old vulnerability she’d suffered after their initial short-lived relationship.
God, she’d been crazy for him then. Crazy and terrified that he’d realize what she’d known after their first night together—that she didn’t fit into the future he was mapping out for himself. He wanted to change the world. Wanted to redeem himself and make a difference. First law, then politics. His professors had already introduced him to influential people who could see the potential in the charismatic college student with the made-for-television biography. Local delinquent with deep roots in the community makes good. Solid family background, handsome face, sharp mind…Stephen Finn was a star on the rise.
Tasha knew how it would end before it had even begun. A reformed bad boy politician was sexy. The addition of an unrepentant bad girl on his arm wasn’t as marketable. Especially when that girl’s family tree had more than a few questionable apples.
They never would have lasted. She was too impulsive, too much of a lightning rod to be the kind of woman he needed at his side. If she’d stayed long enough for him to see that, maybe even resent her for it, she would have been asking for heartbreak. So she’d hidden her feelings away and taken the out he�
�d offered. Friends with benefits. Or more accurately, acquaintances with occasional, secret perks.
Secret was the word of the day.
It was the elephant in the room they were going to have to deal with before the party. Hiding their attraction in public had become a deeply ingrained habit for both of them. For this pretense to work they’d have to set aside years of restraint and be natural with each other. Be lovers.
Lovers knew each other’s body language and moods, a million little things that a man like Burke would notice if he was looking. The kind of lovers Stephen was expecting them to be required a level of intimacy and trust they didn’t have with each other. Tasha knew exactly how to swivel her hips to take him to the edge in seconds and Stephen knew that all he had to do was touch her to set her off—but that wasn’t enough. Not for this.
They weren’t going into this as strangers, which was a plus. They had more chemistry than they knew what to do with and a lifetime of Finn family gatherings to draw from. But they only had tonight to get their stories straight and get physically comfortable enough that they didn’t tense up every time their hands touched.
It was a tough job, but somebody had to do him.
It. Somebody had to do it.
Chapter Four
Tasha slipped on her shorts and the soft jersey she’d had since high school, glancing at herself in the mirror above the dresser. Her unconfined breasts strained against the worn fabric but she made no effort to slouch or conceal them. She was proud of her curves and the effect they had on men. She took in her wild curls and the heritage visible in her features. As her grandmother was fond of saying, she’d gotten all the best parts of the mix. A Puerto Rican-Irish goddess of color with green eyes and golden brown skin.
She was used to her body turning heads. On the street and at the club, men saw her and thought about sex. Jeremy called it the “Jessica Rabbit Effect”. He said it was her proportions. Large breasts and a round backside combined with a narrow waist was—artistically speaking—the golden ratio of brick-house-hotness.
Tasha smiled. Of course, Jeremy wasn’t particularly objective and, according to all the latest fashion magazines, he was also completely wrong. Bigger behinds were back in style this season, but that wouldn’t last and she couldn’t care less. Whatever the trend, she was who she was, without diet or artifice. What you couldn’t change, you had to embrace. Getting people to pay attention to her other qualities—especially after they learned about her extra-curricular activities at the club—was always the real challenge.
Those normal preconceptions would help with her upcoming role. Burke would see exactly what he needed to—that she was nothing like the women Senator Finn took to grand openings or museum fundraisers. The pale, slender waifs who ran mega-charities or opened hospitals in impoverished villages in Africa. The actresses with porcelain skin who had three degrees and a shelf full of awards and still managed to donate half their salaries to helping the homeless relocate to energy efficient, vegan-approved housing that was completely recyclable.
She made a face at her reflection when she felt a prickle of jealousy. How could she blame him for going out with women like that? She would date most of them if they asked.
Still, there was never a whisper of indecent behavior in Stephen’s personal life. He was always the perfect gentleman and he was never seen with the same woman twice. It made it hard for the gossips to link him with anyone, which Tasha thought was probably the point. More frustratingly for them, Stephen went to several events without any date at all or with a few members of his family in tow. And she only knew that because it was always a topic of conversation on the local news.
Why was Senator Finn still single?
In the same magazine that had listed him as one of the city’s most eligible bachelors, an article pondering his sexuality and the reason for his lack of partner had also been front and center. He’d been elected to two consecutive terms in landslide victories, but there was still a petition floating around town about his needing to get married and start a family to truly represent his constituent’s values. They didn’t seem to care whether he married a man or a woman, as long as he settled down.
Stephen always smiled during interviews when questions about his personal life came up. His stock answer was, “My father gave me three good pieces of advice—never make a decision until I have all the facts, never ask someone to do something I’m not willing to do myself, and make sure to marry the right one the first time so I don’t have to do it again.”
It was a good answer. A charming answer. But it didn’t satisfy everyone.
Tasha shook her head. Her mind was wandering to a place she had no desire to go. This was not the night to think about Stephen getting married to someone who’d be an asset to his goals for higher office. This was the night she was going to get him to mentally and sexually unwind enough to be ready for their masquerade.
For four days she would be the one on his arm and in his bed. She didn’t want to consider why that pleased her so damn much, but she couldn’t deny that it did.
She found him downstairs setting two aluminum platters on hot pads in the center of the dining table. The scene was so domestic the butterflies in her stomach came back with a vengeance.
“That smells delicious.”
Stephen glanced up with a pleased smile, as if he’d cooked it himself. “It’s the lasagna from Ruby’s.”
Her mouth watered. “I love Ruby’s and I’m in a serious long-term relationship with her three-cheese lasagna. I don’t know what she does that makes it taste so good. I’ve been begging for the recipe for years.”
“I know,” he said, pulling off the steamed paper lids. “I remember you and Owen discussing it at length around Christmas. You both share an unhealthy obsession with Italian cuisine.”
She set her purse on a chair and leaned her hands on the table to inhale the aroma of perfection. “Your brother likes pizza. You can’t compare Ruby’s lasagna to his meat lover’s special delivery. That’s blasphemy. I’ll forgive you this once, but only because you’ve poured the wine. Where are your plates?”
He pointed her in the right direction and she got two plates down from the top shelf, turning in time to see him staring at her ass. Tasha looked down to hide her smile. “Forks?”
“I’ve got them.”
They sat down at the large, formal table and dug into the cheesy, thick goodness. Tasha moaned with her first bite. “Sweet Mary on a gondola, this is heaven.”
She swallowed and lifted her lashes to look over at Stephen. His fork hovered close to his mouth, paused as he watched her eat. His eyes were dark blue, his expression hard with desire.
Tasha licked her lips. “Take a bite, Stephen.”
When he obeyed, parting his lips and closing them over his fork, her thighs squeezed together under the table. A low sound of pleasure escaped his throat and she shifted in her seat, nodding encouragingly. “Tastes good, doesn’t it?”
Stephen slowly pulled the fork out of his mouth, lowering it to the plate to cut off another bite-sized piece. “You were right. This is the best lasagna I’ve ever had.”
She did the same. “It’s one of the top four reasons mouths were invented.”
His lips tilted, a trace of sauce shimmering on the lower one, begging for her tongue. “What are the other three?”
“If you don’t know by now I’m not going to tell you.” She took another bite, the rich taste only enhancing her arousal. So many scenarios were playing out in her mind—she loved food, baked for a living, but she’d never considered it a fetish of hers until now.
She wanted to climb onto the table and serve herself to him. Wanted Stephen to cover her in Ruby’s secret sauce and lick it from her thighs. Wanted to hear him moan when she gave him his dessert.
It’s just dinner.
The last time they had dinner alone, they’d been in a Las Vegas hotel room after a four-hour sexual triathlon. The room service hadn’t been anything to write
home about, but they’d needed the energy for one more round before the car came to take her to the airport.
He’d only been a lawyer then, another face in the convention crowd, and there’d been no worries about reporters staking out his hotel room. There was no way they could get away with something like that now.
Sex and Stephen. Stephen and sex. She couldn’t think about one without the other. Old habits were hard to break.
Tasha lifted her feet and placed them on his lap as he took another bite. He was hard too. He choked and she bit her lip to hold in her hum of satisfaction at finding him as aroused as she was.
Stephen reached for his glass of wine and took a fortifying sip. “Comfortable, Natasha?”
“Not at all.” She swiped the plate with her finger and lifted it to her mouth, letting him watch as she sucked it clean. His jaw clenched. “Neither are you. And that’s a problem we need to fix before we get to Burke’s.”
“Desire is a problem? He’ll expect us to want each other.”
She nodded slowly. “I know. But people in the kind of relationship you want him to think we have? Their desire reads as a sizzling simmer instead of a constant frustrated boil. They know each other’s moods and habits. They’ve been naked with each other, or nearly naked, when sex was not immediately involved. They talk. Sometimes at the same time, which is annoying, but realistic when you know someone well enough.”
“I know you, Natasha. Better than you think. And we’re talking right now.”
“You and I have talked more today than we have since college.” There was no way for him to deny it.
He lifted his napkin to his mouth and adjusted himself in his chair so her feet weren’t pressed against his erection. “There’s an argument to be made that it wasn’t for lack of trying on my part, but now is not the time. Your point is valid.”
She pretended shock. “Are you actually admitting that I’m right?”