by Anne Marsh
“Injured?”
“I’m good. Come with me.” She bit the words out impatiently, as if daring him to protest. That was fine with him. He wasn’t her father, her brother or her nurse. He also wasn’t a lower-ranking officer anymore due to his last promotion, which meant he absolutely didn’t take orders from her. He felt the slow smile stretching his face. Oh, yeah. Master Sergeant Mia didn’t get to yank his chain any longer. She was a civvie, a civilian. He, on the other hand, was still an officer and would be back with his unit in six weeks.
“Pass.” He set the wrench back in the toolbox. He was about done here.
“One beer.” She propped her hands on her hips and did her best to stare him down. It was a damned good effort too, although the peekaboo bikini strap beneath her T-shirt was a first-class distraction. Her gaze never stopped moving, quartering the ocean, the boat, the beach. He’d bet she didn’t miss a thing because Cal Brennan, one of the two Navy rescue swimmers he co-owned Deep Dive with, was like that, too, constantly tracking his surroundings and watching for incoming. Somehow, the switch hadn’t got thrown in Tag’s head. He’d left the battles on the battlefield. He was okay.
He looked over Mia’s shoulder. Five pairs of eyes drilled into him from the beach bar. A lovely blonde raised her margarita to him in a silent toast, and he grinned. Pretty women on a pretty day. He should have been in heaven having things go his way like this. It was all so fun. So easy. On the other hand, there was nothing easy about Mia Brandt.
You had your shot and you screwed it up...
He shipped out in six weeks. She set sail in six hours. Even if he’d been a long-term kind of man, neither time line allowed for a relationship. And that assumed she even wanted him for more than a centerpiece at the bachelorette party that was in full swing up there at the beach bar.
When he didn’t answer her right away, she dug in. “What’s not to like about a free beer?”
He smiled. “Every drink has strings attached. I learned my lesson at the Star Bar.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t hear you complaining that night. In fact, you did plenty of hollering of the good kind.”
Her slow smile heated his blood. He’d always loved a challenge, making him real glad he had the side of the boat between them. Otherwise, there would have been no way she missed the erection he sported. Squatting down by the side of the boat, he folded his arms on the side. The move put him on eye level with her. He’d forgotten how tiny she was.
“You made plenty of noise yourself.”
“Maybe I did. A girl has to look after herself in bed.” She slapped her hands on to the edge of the boat—and on top of his. She wore no rings, but there was a pale circle on her ring finger.
Ouch. He went on the offensive. “You were bossy.”
She’d been bold. Confident. And more than a little take-charge in bed. So, okay, he hadn’t minded at the time. He’d been completely on board with her plan of a night of hot, casual sex. And, if she’d liked to give orders, he’d also been willing to indulge her. Unfortunately, he’d been busted sneaking back into his apartment. He’d been tired. He hadn’t been thinking. The litany of excuses didn’t matter, however, because he’d let slip the name of the woman he’d slept with, and his night with her had solidified her reputation for being a ball-breaker.
Sergeant Dominatrix. Yeah. Not a kind name. A guy might live that down—after about four hundred tours of duty—but Mia had been a female officer working with male officers who didn’t always treat women like equals, even if the field manual said they should. Good reasons, bad reasons—he figured she probably hadn’t cared.
Her eyes narrowed, proving she hadn’t changed since then. “You needed directions.”
She was close enough to kiss. She had brown eyes, paired with the longest, most feminine eyelashes he’d ever seen. Retreat. His lips almost brushed hers, as his fingers automatically tightened around hers. He might be pulling her into the boat—or she might be pulling him overboard. Damned if he knew.
“Directions you were happy to issue. If you didn’t like the results, you have no one to blame but yourself.”
Her knowing smile pushed all his buttons. “I was the senior officer.”
Like. Hell. “It’s a good thing we were a one-night thing. Because you don’t outrank me anymore, sweetheart.”
Series List
Contemporary Romance –
Smoke Jumpers
BURNING UP (Book 1)
SLOW BURN (Book 2)
Contemporary Romance –
When SEALs Come Home
BURNS SO BAD (Book 1)
SMOKING HOT (Book 2)
SWEET BURN (Book 3)
YOURS FOR CHRISTMAS (Book 3.5)
HEATED (Book 4)
Contemporary Romance –
The Hotshots
REBURN (The Hotshots, 1)
HOT ZONE (The Hotshots, 2)
FIRED UP (The Hotshots, 3, in HOT SHOTS)
Contemporary Romance –
Men of Discovery Island
WICKED SEXY (Book 1)
WICKED NIGHTS (Book 2)
WICKED SECRETS (Book 3)
Paranormal Romance –
Blue Moon Brides
TEMPTED BY THE PACK (Book 1)
PLEASURED BY THE PACK (Book 2)
CLAIMED BY THE PACK (Book 3)
TAKEN BY THE PACK (Book 4)
CAPTURED BY THE PACK (Book 5)
Paranormal Romance – The Fallen
BOND WITH ME (Fallen, Book 1)
HIS DARK BOND (Fallen, Book 2)
SAVAGE BOND (Fallen, Book 3)
Non-Series Books
THE HUNT
VIKING’S ORDERS
About the Author
After ten years of graduate school and too many degrees, Anne Marsh escaped to become a technical writer. When not planted firmly in front of the laptop translating Engineer into English, Anne enjoys gardening, running (even if it’s just to the 7-11 for slurpees), and reading books curled up with her kids. The best part of writing romance, however, is finally being able to answer the question: “So... what do you do with a PhD in Slavic Languages and Literatures?” She lives in Northern California with her husband, two kids and four cats.
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Table of Contents
Heated
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Excerpt from Wicked Secrets
Series List
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About the Author