by Anne Marsh
The way he raked his eyes over her confirmed her impression she looked good. Granted, FedEx’s deliveries had plenty to do with her success in the good looks department, because her credit card had been working overtime. She’d paired a sassy little short-sleeved jacket with red fringe and enormous red flowers over a fitted white blouse and a denim skirt. Her espadrilles made her almost as tall as him. Fun stuff. No more khaki and creases for her. He flicked the fringe.
“Nice.” He was tired and salty, his hair sticky from his swim as he grinned up at her. Something inside her turned over. Just sex, she reminded herself. Nothing more. Cal and Daeg filed in behind him, already discussing the day’s agenda. See? It’s business as usual.
Daeg eyeballed their calendar. “Damn. We need to hire more guys.”
Mia toasted Daeg with her own coffee cup. “And gals.”
Daeg looked over at her and flashed her a thumbs-up. “Point taken.”
Okay. Her role here was marginally larger than coffee.
Tag looked at her. “Do you miss it?”
“It?”
“The missions. Going in hot and getting a job done. Doing stuff that matters.”
“A job doesn’t have to involve bullets and life-and-death to matter.”
He exhaled “No, it doesn’t, although I’ve personally found it helps.”
“Good. Because there are plenty of people here on Discovery Island doing stuff that matters.”
“I don’t want to fight,” he said gruffly, moving closer.
She knew it didn’t look like anything out of the ordinary to the other guys in the office. In fact, she was pretty sure Daeg had his head down on his desk and was napping. Nearby Cal worked the phone, handling paperwork and logistics. She didn’t care because, nope, she was too aware of the rescue swimmer horning in on her space.
“Okay.”
He waited a beat. “Everything went well here?”
Yeah. She fought the urge to roll her eyes at him. Office equipment was so life threatening. She’d sorted and filed. She’d also made a dozen phone calls and probably spent the GDP of a small African country on Post-it notes and folders. Tag appeared to be a big fan of the heap system. He had heaps of papers on his desk. In the drawers. And, yes, in the shop’s kitchen. At least she hadn’t found anything in the bathroom. Yet. The day was still young, and she was working weekends because the man was so disorganized.
She pointed to the labeled, stickered stack near his elbow. “Those are the ones you need to deal with immediately. The rest can wait until tomorrow.”
He grinned drolly at her. “I don’t want to do paperwork, Mia. That’s why we’ve got you.”
Yeah. The mountainous proportions of his heaps had made his need perfectly clear. She wasn’t stupid—just organized.
“You’ll thank me when the electric company doesn’t turn off your power.”
“The power bill is Cal’s responsibility.”
“Nice try. He said pretty much the same thing to me. You lose.”
He ran a hand over his head. He did look tired, and she knew she wasn’t helping. But he’d hired her to do a job, and she’d do it.
Or not.
“Give me the checkbook.” She held out a hand. “I’ll do it.”
He hesitated, shooting a glance toward Cal. Daeg let out a rasping sigh, still down for the count. No back up there.
Pinning Cal with a no-nonsense stare, she asked, “Do you have a problem with my paying bills?”
Cal shrugged. “If Tag’s cool with it, so am I.”
“Cop out.” Tag groaned.
“You hired her.”
True. She wondered how Tag had explained their knowing each other. It didn’t matter. She was staying on task here. She waggled her fingers.
“Give it up.”
Tag yanked open his desk drawer. Since she’d had spare time, she’d organized the contents. Now his pencils were lined up on the left, with pens only on the right. “Jesus.”
“I’m going to assume that’s a prayer of thanksgiving.” She had no idea how he’d ever managed to find anything in there.
He leaned in, big and rough and sexy. “Let’s recap. Who’s the boss here?”
He was either playing with her, or he was genuinely bent out of shape because she’d touched his office supplies. Her money was on option A. But since he was tired, she’d cut him some slack.
“You’re signing my paychecks,” she said cheerfully.
“That’s what I thought.”
“You told me to stay busy,” she reminded him. “And your record-keeping is a disgrace.”
Shaking his head, he pulled the drawer out farther and pointed. To underscore the fact she was a team player, she made a point of looking. Everything was exactly as she’d left it. Neat and ordered. Square and lined up. Perfect. He could definitely thank her now.
“Your Post-its look like they’re on drill.”
“You can also find them,” she pointed out.
“I don’t recall giving you permission to touch my things.”
Right. “I didn’t know I needed permission.”
“Mia—” God, she loved the way he said her name. “I am your boss.”
“In the office.” She could play games, too. Slowly she walked her fingers up his muscular chest and hooked a finger in the collar of his T-shirt. “So you’d better make the most of it, big guy.”
* * *
JESUS. SHE LOOKED at him and he—he wanted to give her whatever she wanted. Unzip her sassy little skirt and explore all her secret spots. He eyeballed the room, assessing the feasibility of his ad-hoc plan. Daeg had his head down on his desk, and, from the rough sounds emanating from his friend’s vicinity, the guy was out for a while. Cal wouldn’t be rescuing him, either. Still busy arguing with someone, he was headed out the front, ear glued to his cell. Yeah. If he was looking for backup, he wasn’t finding it there. He was free to fall unchecked for Mia.
Pity, he couldn’t afford it.
She’d declared herself to be a stay-put kind of gal—and he was headed back for San Diego and a new mission in a few weeks. The problem was, he had absolutely no willpower around Mia. She tugged at his shirt, a quick, determined no-nonsense kind of pull. He let her reel him in. He didn’t want to keep his hands off her, and she seemed to share his opinion.
Which was why his mouth had ended up hovering mere inches above hers in dangerous territory. “You like to be in charge.”
She smiled and crossed her legs, her bare knee brushing his. Her denim skirt inched upward. If he ran a hand up her leg, the denim would ruck right up, leaving her bare.
“You’re playing with fire,” he growled.
Instead of retreating, of course she tilted her head up until her lower lip brushed against his. Jesus. Was that her tongue?
“I’ve got it on good authority you know how to rescue a woman.”
“Whatever you want,” he croaked. If Daeg weren’t here, he’d have her on the desk, and that was wrong. He didn’t want his body making promises his heart couldn’t keep. Staying on Discovery Island was out of the question. He’d signed contracts, made a commitment to his CO. He’d never questioned his decision before, but now...he wondered. Hell, yeah, he wondered.
“This.” The word became a whisper as her mouth closed in on his. So, damn it, for a long, sweet moment he let her kiss him.
She nipped him then, her hands cupping the back of his head as she lifted her mouth off his. “Don’t make me do all the work here, sailor.”
More orders. He scooped her up, pulling her onto his lap until she straddled him. Damned if her skirt wasn’t made for the position.
“Just kisses?” His breathing sounded rough as he asked. Only to clarify, because it was important to know where he stood. Sat. W
hatever. Danger.
She snuck a peek at Daeg. He could have told her the man slept like the dead. Plus, they’d been up all night. It was a minor miracle any of them were still standing.
“Just kisses.”
He flattened his palm against her heart, savoring the urgent drumbeat. She wanted him, and her need was sexy as hell.
“You’re kissing your boss.”
He leaned in and flicked a button open.
“You can’t undress me here.” She was positively cute when she was shocked.
“Who’s the boss?” He kissed her again to distract her while he flicked buttons two and three open. Her bra was downright wicked—lavender-and-white checks with a strip of sweet, innocent lace outlining her curves. “I like this.”
“I’ll bet you do,” she muttered, shooting an anxious look over at Daeg.
“You could take it off,” he suggested.
“You have a boss-secretary fetish.”
No, he had a thing for Mia. He undid one more button. White cotton gaped away from her silky skin and that damned bra. If she was a secretary, she was a very, very naughty secretary indeed. He wrapped his hand around her thigh.
“Are we agreed?”
“What?” She sounded breathless. Good.
He eased his palm up her thigh.
“That I’m in charge.”
When he slid a finger beneath her thong, she was wet and slick. And he wasn’t, he realized, feeling nice. One quick, hard tug and her panties were his.
“Tag.” She froze, as if she couldn’t believe he’d done what he’d done and in the middle of the office. Well, that made two of them, but she drove him crazy.
“This is why I’m in charge.” He stroked deeper.
She made an unintelligible noise, part moan, part breathy sigh.
“You’re mine,” he said and stroked her again. He could do this for hours, easing her higher. Unfortunately, Daeg stirred, his boots banging against his desk, and the dazed look in her eyes faded.
She slid off his lap and glared at him, holding out her hand for her panties.
“This can’t be anything more than a game. I’m not interested in any kind of a long-distance thing. I had one of those and it didn’t end well.”
“I didn’t know I was a thing,” he muttered after a long moment. His words didn’t come out right, but he also had no intention of returning her panties. Instead, he tucked them into his back pocket.
“A really, really good thing. A sexual thing. Like brownies with chocolate sauce and whipped cream and that little red cherry thing, but right after your doctor tells you to lose twenty pounds.”
He looked her up and down as she buttoned up her shirt. “You look fine to me.”
Understatement.
“I can’t let you be my thing,” she reiterated fiercely. “Because you’re leaving and going back to San Diego and the Navy.”
“And what are you doing?”
“I’m still figuring it out.” His skeptical glance must have said it all because she continued. “I have a plan.”
Of course she did. “That’s what I mean. And I’ll bet your plan is in writing, color coded with action items and deliverable dates. It’s not a plan—it’s a step-by-step diagram of how to take over the world.”
“You think I’m bossy.”
It might be true, but he didn’t need to agree. Ignoring her indignant look, he shrugged. “Too bad,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“Because I’d make sure I was worth waiting for. You ever had welcome-home sex?” He had no idea why he was arguing with her. He didn’t want a thing with her, either. Absolutely not.
He did up her bottommost button, then ran his finger up to the next one.
“Or been so hot you can’t wait until you’re home so you do it in the car?”
“Pass,” she said, but she didn’t sound certain at all. He did up another button. She sounded aroused.
“Liar,” he whispered against her mouth, tracing his finger over her skin to the next button. “You don’t fantasize about your soldier coming home, dropping his gun on the bedside table, and ravishing you?”
“Because you’d be happy to bring my fantasies to life?”
Her question wasn’t a no.
“Uh-huh. We could do a boss fantasy,” he murmured, slipping his finger between her breasts. “I’ll buy a conference room table. We could combine it with soldier-comes-home.”
“How are you with the knight-in-shining-armor fantasy? You can worship me from afar and keep your hands to yourself.” She did up the last button on her blouse.
“Uh-uh,” he told her. “And, since I’m the boss, I get what I want.”
“Definitely a fantasy,” she said sweetly and held out her hand. “I want my panties back.”
Too bad for his sergeant she wasn’t getting what she wanted. Of course, since he wasn’t getting what he wanted, it seemed only fair.
11
CLOSING ON THE cottage turned out to be easy. Two weeks after she’d first laid eyes on the place, she was the proud possessor of a deed and two keys to the front door. The bank had also approved her home equity line, and she’d probably purchased enough supplies to open her own Home Depot store. Moving out of Tag’s place might have caused her a little pang somewhere in the region of her heart, but theirs had been a temporary arrangement.
Bought a house, she texted Laurel, knowing her cousin would be excited for her. Despite her love of bling, Laurel had chosen to sport a small-size rock on her ring finger because she and Jack were saving up for a down payment on a home. Trading carats for an extra bedroom had been an easy call.
Photos now! Laurel responded, and Mia spent the next half hour happily trading decorating ideas. When someone knocked on her door, she wasn’t prepared to see Tag standing there holding a box of painting supplies. She supposed he wanted to help. Bonus points for him.
“Are you the Welcome Wagon?” Because she could think of all sorts of ways—deliciously sexy, very naughty ways—to break in her new house. She hadn’t had her hands on Tag for almost twenty-four hours, and she was definitely going through serious withdrawal.
He waved the box at her. “I swung by the hardware store before I came here. Thought maybe you could use a hand...”
“Are you implying I don’t know how to paint my own walls?” Because, really, she was a modern woman. She knew her way around a toolbox—and YouTube.
He propped the box against his hip and grinned at her. “Have you painted interiors before?”
She had the internet. She’d repainted her bedroom in high school. Both of which made her fully qualified. She opened her mouth to say so, but then she got a good look at Tag. He was wearing a faded T-shirt and a ragged pair of blue jeans. God, she loved worn jeans on a guy. There was always the possibility his pants would just give out while he was lovingly bent over a paint can. A gal could hope.
She opened the door. “Come on in. It must be my lucky day.”
Yep. Suspicion filled his eyes. Maybe he’d sensed her rip-his-clothes-off fantasy. “What have you done with Mia?”
“Excuse me?”
He brushed past her when she didn’t move out of the door. “I didn’t expect you to agree. Not that quickly.”
Since he seemed determined to invade her house, she followed him, tugging at the back of his shirt. Which stayed firmly on his magnificent body, more was the pity. “I like free labor.”
He gave her The Look. “Now you’re taking advantage of me.”
She shrugged. Yeah...she probably was taking advantage here. However, she had a house to paint, and he was hot. That was called having her cake and eating it, too. “I’m perfectly happy to let you help me paint. The question is—what’s in it for you?”
&
nbsp; “I’m just being a doting fiancé.” He flashed her a grin and nodded toward the living room. “Are we starting in there?”
The thing was, he wasn’t really her fiancé, and they both knew it. They had some kind of complicated pretend relationship going on, more like friends with benefits. She wasn’t really dating him or settling down with him or doing anything other than sleeping with him. And there wasn’t even much sleeping involved because she couldn’t seem to keep her hands off him. Nope, she was just passing herself off as his betrothed to get the good folks of Discovery Island off his back. Any pleasure she got out of the fantasy was pure bonus.
The former owner must have harbored a secret desire to open an art gallery, because the living room walls were dotted with holes from long-AWOL picture frames. After the tenth spackle-and-patch job, Tag looked over at her.
“Are you sure you can’t just hang new pictures up over the holes?”
“Don’t be such a slacker.” She wanted to do it right.
“You’ve got issues.” He sounded cheerful. “I should charge you by the hour.”
“You work for sex. You come cheap,” Mia reminded him. She could have hired a painting crew, but she wanted to do as much of the work as she could, and not just because she wanted to preserve her line of credit. This was her house, her fresh start, and she’d make it perfect. Or—she eyed her lumpy spackle job—near-perfect. She’d hang a picture on this spot.
“You can make it up to me later,” he said.
She’d just bet she could. In fact, her imagination suggested a dozen perfectly naughty, wonderfully decadent things she could do to him.
“Besides, this may be my last chance to paint walls for a while.”
Right. Because he was leaving. She was pretty sure painting wasn’t part of his job description for Uncle Sam, unless it involved painting a target.