“Morning, Nic.” Arms that had caged her to the bed last night pulled her against his warm chest. This is a deep-sigh kind of nice.
“Morn—” The alarm clock read thirty-three minutes after it should have gone off. Had she set it? Shit. “Oh my God, I’m late. We’re late. We have to—”
“We don’t have to meet for another half hour or so.”
Nicola sprang up and out of bed, tearing through her overnight bag. “I have to get ready.”
“Throw on some clothes.”
“I can’t just throw on clothes. I have to get ready. It’s a chick thing.”
“It’s just a bunch of dudes. No one to impress.”
She smirked at him. Grabbing a brush, she combed her ragamuffin bed-head into a bun.
“Cash?”
He relaxed against the headboard, and his eyes twinkled as he enjoyed the show.
She moved around like a woman on speed, desperate for her missing makeup bag. “What are you looking at?”
She was still naked. Running around, naked and crazed. Clothes. Must find clothes.
His smile said it all. He didn’t have to open his mouth. “Just watching. Better than a cup of coffee.”
“Get up. Get dressed. We’re late.” She tugged on fresh panties and a matching bra. They were a little flashy. Maybe subconsciously, when she’d packed them, she’d hoped to wear them for him. Well, he saw her now and looked thrilled. “Cash! Come on.”
“All right, all right. I’m up.”
He stood up, just as naked as she’d been. And he was up. Oh, Lord. Her stomach dropped to the floor. Every womanly part of her body screamed for her to hold him. Whoa, that was a hell of a reaction.
“Nic, you’re staring. Not complaining, but you should know I’m down with going back to bed and earning a slap on the wrist for rolling in late.” He winked at her, and her stomach jumped, only to fall back down.
No. Concentrate. For all intents and purposes, this was her first day at a new job. Even though the CIA still owned her, she was on loan. New co-workers. New people to size up and make an impression on. Rolling in late, when everyone surely knew her history with Cash, would be catastrophic.
“Put your clothes on. I can’t be late.”
“You can be whatever you feel like, sweet girl.” Cash stretched, and every muscle in his body rippled.
“Well, I feel like holding on to my reputation.” Ouch, that was harsh. She knew his standing with ladies well enough. He didn’t flinch, though. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant. I’ve tried hard to make every man I work with see me as capable. Just one of the guys.”
“Nah. I get it. I’ll leave you to get dressed. You show up when you do, looking however you do. Gorgeous, I’m sure. And I’m gonna mosey to the great room, meet up with everyone, and get some coffee.”
Her shirt hung in her hand. Cash scooped his clothes off the floor and turned for the door to the adjoining room.
“Wait,” she said, causing him to pivot. “You like?” She modeled the lacy red bra with a spin.
“I like.” He paused. “Come here.”
She was in his arms in a second. Wrapped against his bare chest, his fine chest hair tickling her skin, she found a good argument for running late. He slanted his mouth over hers and ran his fingers into her messy bun. The tender touch elicited a sigh. This was definitely a lets-run-late morning kiss. His smile broke the intensity as he pulled back. His fingers petted her cheek. “Do your thing. I’ll see you downstairs.”
She continued to stare after he’d shut the door, wondering how this was possible and if it was too good to be true.
***
Rocco, Roman, and Brock were kicked back on the large leather couch, wolfing down steak and eggs. The smell alone was almost enough to drag Cash out of Nicola’s bed, but when she gave him the final push, he’d high-tailed it downstairs to get some Mia-style cooking.
Voices in the kitchen drifted into the room. Winters. Jared. Some of the other guys. Breakfast was set up family style on a large table in the great room. Big, juicy-looking steaks. Heaping piles of scrambled eggs, knowing Mia, filled with sharp cheddar cheese. Biscuits and a bowl of gravy. God love Mia Winters. Holy hell, she could cook.
Plate piled high, he perched on the oversized chair and chowed down. Jared grumble-laughed from the kitchen. At least the bastard wasn’t in a terrible mood. Maybe someone had been able to find his stupid, flippin’ ammo. Green tracer and all. He and Roman hadn’t, and they’d searched while Cash had been away from Nic’s bed. It was almost eight in the morning. If Jared was still here and laughing, the morning meeting wouldn’t be as bad as Cash’d guessed it might be.
Nicola rounded the corner. A freakin’ vision of tough girl beauty. She didn’t overdo the makeup, didn’t show off the lacy bra that had almost brought him to his knees. No, she rocked a tight pair of jeans over those skyscraper legs. He noticed a small bulge at her ankle. Ankle holster. That was hot, no questions asked. And that shirt loved her curves. Cash looked at the guys. All of them but Roman noticed too.
Roman lifted his chin to her. “Morning.”
She said her hellos, joked with the boys, and grabbed a plate and some coffee. She was perfect, the picture of ease, and gave the impression he was sure she wanted. Smart. Stealthy. And lethal. She had the I-can-kill-you-with-a-toothpick look. Dead sexy. Whether she tried or not, wanted others to notice or not, the woman was an attention grabber.
“Cash.” She nodded, treating him just the same as the others, as if they were a secret. This was fun. She was fun. He could handle this game.
He played along. “Nicola.”
Roman rolled his eyes. Rocco watched today’s version of their reality show unfold. Brock watched Nic. More curious than interested, but Cash would have a talk with Brock about that later.
Jared and Winters walked into the room. Jared looked like the grumbling asshole he always was. Winters looked like he could use a shave, the way he always did. Same old thing, just another Saturday morning when half the guys were shipping off somewhere for some job that required a green tracer, and a few others were readying a plan to smoke out a CIA mole.
Jared interrupted the breakfast chatter. “Morning, assholes. And lady.” He nodded to Nicola, who nodded back. “Those going with me, we leave soon as that fuckin’ ammo arrives. Fucking desk jockey, wannabe commandos, and their color requests. The rest of you are working with Cash and Nicola, who’s from the CIA.”
Cash liked the sound of them working together. In the last twenty-four hours, his opinion of her in the field had changed. Slightly. He still wasn’t thrilled. He hated the reality of it but, hell, she was doing it with or without his permission. With or without him by her side. So fuck it. Better to be on her side.
Right?
Maybe?
She could shoot. She could hold her own at hand-to-hand. She could throw down with the toys and the training the CIA gave her. She was good. Impressive. He liked the calculating, sparring Nicola, the adult Nicola, the woman who knew what worked for her and wasn’t afraid to embrace it. And spy games worked for her, so he’d deal. Kinda.
He stood up to stretch and put away his plate. Something to concentrate on besides Nic.
Jared continued, “So who here hasn’t met Miss CIA-herself? Nicola Garrison. Anyone?”
Roman shot coffee out his nose. Whoops. That probably didn’t go the way Nic had planned. Roman was on his feet. “Excuse me? Garrison?”
Cash felt his cheeks catch fire and stole a glance at Nic. She wasn’t fazed. Didn’t respond, other than a roll of her eyes.
Roman stepped toward Cash. “What the fuck? I thought you said you weren’t sure about her. That sounds pretty fuckin’ sure.”
Oh fuck. He told Roman he hadn’t been sure if they were really done because he didn’t know what was going on with her. Damn it, he was sure that he was interested in finding out. Then he had found out, and everything fell into place. Shit was working out. But coming from Roman’s lips,
it sure sounded like he wasn’t sure about Nicola.
Her face was tight. Imperceptible to anyone but him. He knew that face too well, and she was hurting. Goddamn Roman.
“Why is it that I’m always refereeing high school drama with you guys?” Jared growled. “Princess, explain yourself. Roman, sit down. Cash, I don’t care what you do. Keep standing for all I care.”
“CIA gave it to me, Roman. Cut your shit out.” That Nicola sounded pretty damn tough and to the point. Props to his girl. His girl. That sounded good.
“So you aren’t…” Roman gestured.
“What, Cash and I ran off to Vegas last night? Give me a flippin’ break.”
“Oh.”
Yeah, jumpy asshole.
Rocco threw a handful of biscuit in his mouth like he was at a movie theater munching on popcorn. Winters laughed, looking confused but loving the drama. And I want everyone to mind their own business.
Winters’s cell went off.
Jared smiled. “That’d be my ammo. I can’t wait to get away from you assholes.”
Winters answered his phone, telling the delivery boy how to get through the NASA-like security gate and to his front door. He ended the call with, “—and the door is open.”
Good. Get Jared the hell out of here so they could map out Operation Catch-the-Butler with less of a headache.
Jared’s cell buzzed. “What the fuck? Hold on.” He stomped out of the room and slammed the door.
Clack. Clack. Clack. Heels clicked down the hall. Bright lipstick and fuck-me hair rolled around the corner carrying a big box marked EXPLOSIVE.
Fuck me.
Her trademark Girls Love Guns shirt was pulled over a set of fake tits he knew too well. Painted on leather pants were held up by a belt buckle of dueling silver pistols. Pretty much her uniform of a guy’s wet dream.
Sugar.
Fucking Sugar.
Well, fucking Sugar was the problem. Damn it.
Cash looked at Winters and whispered, “What the fuck, man?”
Winters shrugged, obviously not having a flippin’ clue. “When you guys came up empty-handed, I called Sugar.”
Cash had once tried to set Winters up with Sugar, but not really. He knew the guy wouldn’t take the bait, and Winters was being such an asshole that someone had to show him the only woman in the world he wanted was Mia. Cash did that for him. They should name their first baby Cash—boy or girl—because he pretty much considered their make-up and marriage his doing.
Maybe Sugar would behave, although that wasn’t one of her many talents. She’d never met Jared before and had always wanted to. Of course she’d behave in front of Jared. She wanted more of the man’s business at her gun shop. The woman could build the hell out of a high powered rifle. Titan would be the gold standard of clients, the way they went through guns and rounds.
Winters stood. “Sugar, girl. Thanks much. We owe you.”
Her smile was as sweet and fake as her name. “That you do. Where’s my boy? Why didn’t he call me?”
She pivoted on the heel of a stiletto that might as well have been a pointed dagger. She snagged Cash with a stare, and he stood helpless, not sure what the fuck he should do. Extend a hand? Shake the woman’s hand. It was a plan. He stepped forward with every intention of a proper hi-how-ya-doing, but she snaked a pink painted nail through his belt loop and threw the other arm around his shoulder. Fuck.
“Cash, baby. No call, no show. What’s the deal, babe? Our boy, Mister One-Woman-Man, has to call. Tsk, tsk, baby. Tsk, tsk.”
The first lesson in sniper school was controlling the mind and body. Controlling breaths. Slowing the heartbeat. Acting and reacting perfectly in the worst possible situations. Well, this might be the worst possible, but there was no way his heart was listening to his commands. For every “slow the eff down,” it sped up. Right now it was going through a bang, bang, bang crescendo.
“Sugar.” He coughed a hello and shrugged out of her perfumed embrace. Nicola slammed them a glare so powerful, he was surprised to find his feet still on the floor.
Sugar took in the room. “I’m not sure that I know everyone.” Who knew Sugar could do anything understated, sarcasm included? “Cash, introduce me please, darh-ling.”
This sucks.
“Sugar, I don’t believe you’ve met Nicola. Nic, Sugar owns a gun club I belong to. Gun range, shop, stuff like that.”
Sugar purred, “Yes, stuff like that. Nicola, was it?”
“Nicola Garrison.” Nic for the point. That was good. He’d take it.
“Sister?”
“Not a chance, Sugar.” Nicola smiled, cold and frosty for the win, at least against Sugar. Nic still looked homicidal.
A door down the hall banged open. Jared walked in a second later and slammed to a stop. “You’re Sugar?” His mouth hung open. “Cash’s Sugar?”
Sugar made some sort of hell-yes noise. There was no Cash’s Sugar. The two of them were casual and occasional, nothing that allowed for possession, and all about blowing off some pressure, when it was needed. And it hadn’t been needed in a while.
Jared slapped his thigh. “Well, fuck—”
“Shut up, Jared.” Cash didn’t have time for this shit. Sugar needed to get out. Fast.
Jared looked at Nic. Sugar looked at Nic. Everyone but Cash looked at Nic. He was content to shoot daggers at Jared. Rocco choked on his biscuit. Winters’s eyebrows rose as he caught on to Cash’s nightmare. Goddamn it.
Sugar sized Jared up, combat boots to jarhead cut. “You’re Jared?”
“I’m everything. Jared will do though.”
“Humble, I see.”
“You look like your name.”
“I look like a lot of things, Jared. Doesn’t mean you’re right.”
They squared off. Everyone was tense. Pissed off women were trouble. Pissed off at him was a disaster, as far as Cash was concerned. “Alrighty, Sugar. We have to get started.” If Jared wasn’t going to wrap up this meet and greet, Cash would. Sugar needed to get gone. Now.
“Soon as someone pays up, I’m outta here, cowboy.”
“Right. Let’s do this. Come with me.” Jared walked out, probably expecting Sugar to follow. He needed to learn a little more about her before he could make those educated guesses. Sugar did what she wanted, no matter who was looking or ordering.
“So, Cash, baby. You coming over after this job’s done?”
“He’s not. But thanks for inviting him.” Nic was on it, spitting sweet sarcasm. All Cash could do was watch.
“Not sure I was talking to you.”
“Not sure I care.”
“Sugar! Get out here,” Jared yelled from the hall. “I do not have time for this shit.”
Sugar walked over to Cash, and his stomach turned. Nothing good was about to happen. She went up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, only because he took a step back and avoided the lip press. “Bye, cowboy. See ya later.”
Jared grumbled from the hall. “I told you assholes, no chick problems. I’m about to make it part of your contracts.”
Damn. Faster than Cash could take out a target with Miss Betty, this day had gone from for-the-records-book awesome to knee-in-the-nuts awful.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
That woman, all sex-in-heels, rolled out of the room. All the men save for Cash waved goodbye. At least he had some smarts.
Nicola sipped her coffee and ignored the male tongues hanging to their combat boots. Mia’d have to get the place wet-vacced for all the drooling they were doing. For the moment, it didn’t seem as if anyone thought about Cash’s girls being ready to knock knuckles. As for acting professional and making a good impression on her first day with a new team? Nicola’s morning had gone down in messy, gossip-worthy flames.
At least she’d tried to look nice this morning. She could have used an extra few minutes, but she didn’t look bad. Not perfect. Certainly not let’s-run-into-an-ex good.
Sugar was all va-va-voom and then some. Was that what Cas
h liked? All plumped up and plastic?
Maybe her opinion of Sugar was a tad too harsh, and Nicola did like that Girls Like Guns shirt. The way it was poured over Sugar, Nicola bet Cash and every man in the room liked it too. Well, except for Jared. He’d need a two-by-four to the brain to notice anyone but himself.
Jared droned on about tactical this and strategic that, all very important. Too bad she wasn’t listening.
“Princess.” Jared’s raspy voice pulled her from her pity party of one.
“Hmm?”
“You and me and Cash. Dining room. Now.”
Great. Where was Cash anyway? Chasing after his Sugar? What the eff? It didn’t matter. They were on two completely different paths. How had she not noticed that? Here she was, choking up over nostalgic thoughts from last night. And there he was, searching out a woman made for fantasies, who threw herself at his boots. Ugh.
Sugar could have him. Nicola knew better. Her job was her life. One game was enough. No need to play two at a time, and Cash was the player king, just like Rocco had said. Freakin’ awesome. She’d either misread Cash, or maybe hoped she hadn’t heard the truth.
“Princess, move your caboose,” Jared called from the hallway.
Yeah, yeah. Coming. She followed his steps to the dining room, strangling both her hands around her coffee cup. No one would notice that they shook if she didn’t let go. Her adrenaline after the quick-flash Sugar-showdown needed to wear off.
Cash stepped over the threshold. Sapphire eyes caressed her, and she vividly remembered clinging to him last night. The memory made her ache.
“Nic, I need to talk to you for a sec—”
“No, you don’t.” Jared put his box marked EXPLOSIVES on the fancy dining room table and pulled a switchblade from his waist. “My time, my agenda. And your mamsy-pansy baloney concerns come later.”
For the first time, Nicola was glad for Jared’s interruptions. She had no interest in hearing the whos and whys and hows of Sugar and Cash. Even if Cash hadn’t known that Nicola was alive, he could at least have the decency to knock boots with someone a little less vamp-on-display. Though her belt buckle was kinda awesome. I wonder where she found that thing. Whatever. Sugar and her glammed-up face, super fun shirt, and awesome belt buckle could go somewhere else.
The Titan Series 1-3 Boxed Set Page 38