Wicked Secrets

by Anne Marsh

  “You don’t want to stick around now that the business is finally getting off the ground?” she asked casually.

  “Hell, no. I’m not the kind of person who settles down. My idea of a good time is jumping out of a helicopter feet-first into shark-infested waters. It makes me a good story at a bar, but bad long-term material.”

  He didn’t sound like he cared, which was an important reminder for her.

  “Funny,” she said. “You should have thought of that before you proposed.”

  He gave her the be serious look. “Why did you join the Army?”

  “Because Uncle Sam wanted me?”

  “Mia.” And there it was—his growly voice, the one that made her think about dragging him off to bed, even when it really, really wasn’t a good idea. They wanted different things from their lives, which was perfectly fine, except she was also starting to think she might want him in her life. As more than her fake fiancé.

  “My whole family joined. It’s what we do. My father served. My three brothers served. I served. They took some convincing when I told them it was my turn.”

  He nodded and slapped more paint on her walls. She’d picked the color because it reminded her of an enormous bowl of oranges, bold and citrusy. He wasn’t done with his questions, though.

  “Why didn’t you leave Discovery Island like you’d planned?”

  She edged her paintbrush neatly along the white trim, loving the way the ribbon of bright orange brought out the creamy paleness of the wood. “I meant to leave, but I fell in love. Is that so surprising? Cal and Daeg liked it enough to stay. Maybe you’ll change your mind, too.”

  God, she shouldn’t have said those last few words. Because they both knew she wasn’t playing, not entirely. Between the house and the man, she was definitely falling in love. She’d needed his help—whether she’d wanted to admit it out loud or not—and he’d swooped in to rescue her. But that was the thing about rescues—they were one-time emergencies. Rescues didn’t happen on a daily basis, and, frankly, she wouldn’t want them to. She wanted a relationship.

  With Tag.

  Who was leaving in a matter of weeks.

  “I’m not them,” he said impatiently. “Daeg and Cal have Deep Dive and their fiancées. Cal has family here and Daeg practically grew up with them. That’s not me. That’s not who I am. My CO needs me.”

  She needed him.

  Mia waved a hand impatiently. Droplets of orange paint hit the front of his T-shirt and speckled his cheek. Oops. “What do you need, Tag?”

  “A clean shirt,” he groused, his voice low and husky. He took a step toward her, and she was pretty certain the rest of her living room wasn’t getting painted today, because he reached out and stroked his own brush down the valley between her breasts.

  “You could take it off,” she said breathlessly.

  “Mmm. Or you could tell me what you need.” His brush painted a wicked circle over her left nipple. She wondered what he would do if she told him the truth, that she needed him to stay put and be a long-term part of her life. He’d probably be on the next ferry out of Discovery Island. With apologies, of course, because Tag was a genuinely nice guy.

  “You,” she said, winding her arms around his neck and trapping his brush between them. Painting could definitely wait. “I need you. Stay.”

  He stared at her and she had no idea what he saw. But he’d been the one touching her breast, so surely that meant he was interested. That she hadn’t misunderstood.

  “Mia?”

  “Yeah?” God. He moved his hand, the brush. Something. Nerve ends sprang to life in her breasts. They should definitely do more of this.

  “I can stay tonight,” he said, gently reminding her of their limits. He’d be hers for tonight and possibly the next few weeks as well but, eventually, he’d go. She could work with that.

  “Stay,” she said again, dragging his head down to hers.

  “Can we borrow your bed?” He didn’t wait for an answer, swinging her up into his arms and heading for her bedroom.

  “Too old for the floor?” She pushed the door open for him, and he took her straight inside, setting her down on her feet by the edge of the mattress.

  “You have no idea,” he rasped, “what you do to me, do you?”

  Nope, but she loved the husky groan he gave when he slid her shirt off. Since she hadn’t bothered with a bra, his move left her breasts bare. Her orange breasts. The paint from Tag’s brush had sunk through her tank top. She thought about possibilities for a moment and then decided she didn’t care if they got paint on the bed. She could always buy new sheets. She wanted him out of control and she wanted that now.

  He ran his fingers over the paint-streaked tops of her breasts.

  “You’re gorgeous.”

  “Not as gorgeous as you,” she said throatily.

  “Men aren’t gorgeous.” He peeled her shorts and her panties down as he said it, stripping her bare for him. “I’d far rather look at you.”

  “Hmm. You definitely are here.” She leaned in, pressing her mouth against the spot on his throat where his pulse beat out a sexy rhythm. Then she moved lower, pushing his shorts and his boxers down his legs.

  “Hello. And most definitely here.” She wrapped her palm around him, and the taut muscles in his stomach jumped in happy anticipation. Since she still didn’t have him quite where she wanted him, she pushed him down onto the edge of the bed. “Can I have my wicked way with you?”

  “Don’t let me stop you. Please.” She could hear the smile in his voice, so she dropped to her knees between his legs and took him in her mouth.

  He groaned, the harsh, needy noise thrilling her. When she looked up at him through her lashes, he was watching her take him, and the raw desire on his face was almost as big of a turn-on as the feel of him. He threaded his fingers through her hair, holding on and making her feel powerful and sexy. Needed...

  Good behavior definitely deserved a reward. She sucked her way up his thick shaft, swirling the point of her tongue over the spot just beneath the head.

  “I’m happy to paint with you anytime,” he rasped.

  “Good to know. I have a big house.” She smiled against him, then licked him.

  Once. Twice. She cupped him, rubbing him with the palm of her hand where she couldn’t cover him with her mouth. The move earned her a sexy growl from her man, so she did it again, exploring every inch of him with her tongue.

  He fell backward onto the bed, tugging her with him.

  “Hey.” She nipped his ear. “I was busy.”

  “I know,” he groaned. “But I’m not going to last much longer.”

  Fine with her. Together they rolled on a condom, and then he was flipping her underneath him, pinning her to the mattress. Kissing her mouth, her throat, her ear as he fitted himself against her opening and pushed slowly in.

  “Tag?”

  “Right here,” he muttered, sinking in deeper.

  Oh, yeah.

  “I—” She forgot what she was trying to say because he kissed her some more, and then he moved. She panted and twisted, and someone who sounded a whole lot like her was chanting more more more in a hoarse, whimpering voice that might have embarrassed her if he hadn’t made her feel so good. But this was Tag. Her friend. Letting him know what she needed was okay.

  He lifted her up, cupping her bottom, and she grabbed his butt. Their hips slammed together, and then it got loud and messy and perfect. He stroked deep inside her body, until they were skin on skin, hip to hip, her breasts squashed against his chest, his dog tags tickling her throat. The delicious friction built, pulling her slowly apart with the pleasure of it until she came, and he followed her over the edge.

  Afterward, she lay there in a boneless heap by his side. He curved an arm around her and fished for t
he sheet with his foot. She was pretty sure the roof of her new cottage could have caved in, and she wouldn’t have cared.

  “Wow.”

  “Right there with you.” He cleared his throat but then said nothing more. How did anyone find words to describe what they’d just done? Instead, he just held her close, and his touch was even better than talking.

  When she was just drifting off to sleep, he ran a finger down her spine. “Mia?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What kind of a ring do you want?”

  She tried to see his face, but now the room was getting dark. Picking out a ring for a fake engagement seemed over-the-top. “We don’t need a ring. Maybe I’m really, really modern and don’t believe in jewelry.”

  “Or you’re the kind of woman who gets her man a ring, since if she’s wearing one, he does, too.” He stroked his hand up her back, his fingertips grazing her shoulders.

  She kind of liked the sound of that.

  “The whole island is taking bets on what kind of ring you’re going to be wearing. It’s easier to just get something now and let them find something else to talk about.”

  She could feel his penetrating gaze on her. She didn’t know what he was looking for, what she was supposed to say. She didn’t mind wearing his ring, although it felt like a cheat. Play it off. They were friends with benefits. Nothing more.

  “I should make you guess. Isn’t that a fiancée kind of thing to do?”

  “If you want something ugly, sure. What do you like?” He rolled over and propped his head on his hands.

  You.

  I like you.

  She’d never been one for jewelry. The military had strict rules on what was appropriate and what was not. She’d been limited to a simple pair of matched studs for her ears and a wristwatch. If she’d been married, she could have worn her wedding band and engagement ring, although sporting bling in the sandbox would have been dangerous.

  “I don’t know.” How sad was that? “But nothing real.”

  “Mia.” He exhaled roughly. “You have to be the first woman in history who prefers cubic zirconia.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being practical.”

  “Should I surprise you?”

  “Go for it,” she said.

  But the funny thing was: he already had.

  12

  PAINTING HAD BEEN undeniably fun, even if she still had two bare walls. The memories kept Mia smiling right through the next day. She seemed to smile a lot around Tag. He’d gone back to his place that morning because he had his menagerie to feed. Meanwhile, Mia had a fixer-upper to wrestle into shape, not to mention a garage full of boxes from her mainland storage unit to tackle, so she should have been busting her ass.

  But instead, she was sitting on her front porch, actually contemplating getting into the blue plastic kid’s pool she’d discovered in her new shed. Discovery Island had been hit with a late heat wave, and odds were high she’d melt before sunset. Laurel had also packed up and forwarded Mia’s stranded things from the cruise ship, military-care-package style...and had added a few bonus toys. Sex toys for the rescue-swimmer hottie, or so the handwritten note had said. Laurel had also included some lingerie the likes of which Mia had never seen before. Apparently, her cousin had been showered with a wedding-night bonanza—or had gone on a shopping spree—that ought to make Tag a happy man. Painting and patching paled in comparison to the fantasies she was cooking up.

  Movement caught her eye, causing a momentary spike of adrenaline. Mia’s breath returned to normal when she realized it was Piper, Cal’s fiancée and the co-owner of Dream Big and Dive, striding up the path.

  “How’s engaged life?” she asked, barely masking her mischievous smile. Mia had only met the young woman a couple of times, but she already liked her. Dani, Daeg’s fiancée, and Carla trailed behind Piper, waving paper grocery bags that looked suspiciously like they contained at least ten thousand calories of carbs and sugar.

  Thank God.

  “I haven’t killed him yet,” she deadpanned. That was a definite win in her book and underscored the wisdom of having a practice fiancé. When she got around to the real deal, she’d be prepared.

  Not.

  “Bonus points for you,” Piper said solemnly. “Cal and I make a point of fighting at least once a week. Plus, makeup sex is the best.”

  Behind her, Carla made a face. Piper’s dive shop assistant manager was a hoot, and Mia looked forward to getting to know her better. When Tag had told her Piper and Dani knew the truth about their engagement, she’d worried they would be unhappy about the deception, but her worry had turned out to be unfounded.

  Completely unfounded.

  They simply wanted to convert her sham engagement into the real deal.

  Carla waved a hand in protest. “TMI. All sex must be discussed in the abstract.”

  Piper grinned, unrepentant. “You’re just jealous.”

  “Absolutely.” Carla dropped her bag on the porch. “And I also have zero desire to look at Cal and think ‘He and Piper did it doggy style in the kitchen!’ For one thing, I’d never be able to eat at your place again.”

  Mia looked over at Dani. “Is this a hypothetical situation, or did it actually happen?”

  Dani threw up her hands. “I’m not asking because Piper here wouldn’t have any problem with telling. Don’t share anything with her that you don’t want broadcast all over the island.”

  Piper stuck out her tongue, laughing. “I’ll bet you’ve got all sorts of amazing stories from working at Sweet Moon’s. Your grandparents’ motel is where everyone on the island goes when they want a little romantic time alone.”

  Right. Time for a distraction. Mia pointed to two shopping bags with her borrowed wardrobe on the front porch. “I’ve got your things clean and ready for you. Thanks for lending them to me.”

  She’d had the rest of her stuff shipped in a PODS unit that had arrived yesterday from the mainland.

  Piper peered inside. “Wow. You could totally start a laundry service. I’d be the first to sign up.”

  So she liked things neat and tidy—those were admirable qualities. “I appreciate the loan.”

  “No problem.” Piper grinned, eyeing the pool and the hose. “I think I came out ahead on this one. Are we having a pool party?”

  Why not? An hour later, Piper had filled the plastic pool with the hose, and Mia had dragged out a cooler full of frozen drink pouches. She had both piña colada and peach daiquiri. Go her. She also made a mean tuna-fish sandwich and now they were lounging on her porch in bikinis, with their feet in the pool. It wasn’t a power lunch in suits, but there was plenty of laughter.

  Carla stabbed her drink pouch with a straw, slurping happily. “So how did you really meet Tag? When you weren’t rescuing him from matchmaking old ladies, that is.”

  She looked at Piper and Dani. “Carla knows, too?” Was there anyone who didn’t know?

  “It’s hard to keep secrets,” Piper said apologetically.

  “And I’m completely trustworthy,” Carla added.

  Confession time. “We met in San Diego, when we both had leave. At a bar.”

  There was no point in leaving out the gory details, right?

  “He was a bar hookup? You rock.” Piper high-fived her.

  “You should keep him,” Dani suggested.

  Mia inhaled her drink and choked.

  Piper whacked her on the back. “Not a good idea?”

  “It’s a fake engagement. Hello. That means we’re not getting married. We’re not a couple.”

  “Yeah, but you’re having real sex, right?”

  Yep. She was blushing. She could ride in a Jeep with soldiers sharing the raunchiest sex jokes, but apparently she turned beet-red if the sex life in question was
her own. Way to go, soldier. “Tag doesn’t want a fiancée.”

  “He doesn’t know he wants one,” Dani countered. “He’s a guy, so he needs a nudge.”

  “Are you matchmaking?” Because that was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

  “Maybe.” Piper grinned unrepentantly. “We like you. We like Tag. See? Match made in heaven.”

  “I was engaged before. It didn’t work out so well.” Possibly, she should check the alcohol content on her drink, because she had no idea where those words had come from.

  “Do tell.” After producing a polka-dot bikini from somewhere, Piper had proceeded to commandeer the pool. She lay in the center, her legs sprawled over its plastic edge. With her big white sunglasses, she looked very Marilyn Monroe.

  “Yeah.” Carla nudged Mia hopefully. “Take pity on us single girls and share. At the very least, give me the name of the bar so Deep Dive can import more single men from there. The dating pool on this island is pathetic.”

  Before she could answer, however, a truck pulled up in front of the cottage, and Daeg and Cal got out. Piper abandoned her spot in the pool, plastering herself against Cal. Partly, Mia suspected, to get her fiancé soaking wet and partly to kiss him hello. Dani followed suit, winding herself around Daeg. Mia doubted her front yard had ever seen so many torrid kisses. Holy. Moly.

  “We’re odd women out.” Carla sighed. “It’s disgusting, isn’t it? Let me buy you another daiquiri.”

  Mia took the frozen pouch Carla pulled out of the cooler. Unlike Carla, she wanted that—the something she saw in Cal and Daeg’s faces when they looked at their fiancées—and that wasn’t something she could simply order into being.

  “We’re thinking a Vegas wedding,” Piper said happily, when Cal let her come up for air.

  “I didn’t get the memo this was a party.”

  Her traitorous heart thumped, lurching into overtime. Tag strode up her garden path, looking rumpled and sexy. He’d brought more fix-it supplies, along with Ben Franklin, the boxer, who happily helped himself to a drink from the pool and then picked out a shady spot underneath a hydrangea. Cal pulled her into a one-sided hug, catching her hand in his. “You leave this finger bare too long, and someone might make a move on her.”