I needed to get close to her, but not that close. Even if I wanted to.
Her soft red hair reminded me of Scarlett Johansson as Black Widow. I had always had a thing for her—what kind of hot-blooded American man hadn’t at one point or another? I especially liked her when she carried a kick-ass gun and wore black spandex and boots. It wasn’t a far stretch of my imagination to picture Carrie in Scarlett’s getup. Her short skirt left little to the imagination, and I wanted her. Bad.
I’d never had such an instant attraction to someone before. The type that demanded I find a way to get her in my arms, naked and writhing, before the end of the month, but I couldn’t have her. I forced myself to picture Senator Wallington’s face instead of Carrie’s. That should help. “I think you look like a good girl who wants to try her hand at being a bad girl.”
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “But maybe not. You don’t know anything about me.”
Ah, but I did. I had her file memorized. And I’d been watching her from the shadows all night long. I also knew enough about her to know she hadn’t been drinking tonight. Knew enough to know the real reason she wasn’t inside was because she hated crowds. She hadn’t been to any real parties until now. And I knew her father was controlling enough to send an undercover agent to watch his nineteen-year-old daughter fumble her way through freshman year.
One thing I knew about repressed girls who went away to college: They went all Girls Gone Wild on crack as soon as they got even the slightest taste of freedom.
The girl was looking for trouble with a capital T. Even I could see that.
She licked her plump, red lips and met my eyes. “So, you going to your room or staying out here with me?”
Oh yeah. Trouble indeed. I shifted in my seat. The girl had no idea what kind of attention she was welcoming. She might only be a couple of years younger than me, but even so, she had off limits stamped across her forehead. I forced a lighthearted laugh. Something I suspected a California boy would do. Hell, something I’d once done. “I don’t really live here. I was fucking with you.”
“Oh.” Her brow furrowed. “Which dorm do you live in?”
“None.” I grinned at her, even though my cheeks hurt from smiling so damned much. “I don’t even go here. I’m just a surfer who lives nearby. Can’t afford the fancy education.”
That much had once been true, at least. When I’d been eighteen, I couldn’t afford the tuition. That’s why I had enlisted in the Marines. My plan had been to use the GI Bill to earn my degree, but I hadn’t gotten to that point in my life yet. As it was, I had shadowed my father’s footsteps and joined the Marine reserves fresh outta high school. I had been ooh-rah’ing it for five years now and had attained the rank of sergeant. On top of that, I held the title of “assistant private security officer” with the senator’s security team.
I could afford to go to college now, but I was too busy. And now I was here in California. I’d been picked for this assignment since, as the youngest employee at twenty-three, I was the most likely candidate to blend into a college campus.
And if I managed to keep Carrie out of trouble, I would return to work minus the “assistant” in my title—and a spike in my pay. But first I had to get close enough to her to be able to be in her company, but not so close that she wanted me even closer.
“Oh, I totally get that,” she said, nodding as if she had a clue about what it was like to be poor. She didn’t.
Her daddy could afford to buy this whole campus without blinking. Hell, he’d already made a sizable contribution to get the dean to allow an undercover agent to linger around campus and follow a student. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She plucked at her skirt again, her shoulders hunched. “I mean, not personally, but I know how bad the economy is right now. I’m not some bimbo college student. I watch the news.”
Sure she did. Maybe TMZ was her version of “news,” but it sure as hell wasn’t mine. “I’m sure you do, Ginger.”
She gave me a look. I could tell she wasn’t sure if I was insulting her. Maybe she had more brains in her pretty head than I gave her credit for. “My name’s not Ginger.”
I gave her a cocky grin. “I think it has a nice ring to it, though. Don’t you?”
“No,” she said flatly. “So if you aren’t going to college, what do you do?”
“I’m a Marine,” I said. “And the rest of the time I surf.”
I tugged at my Hollister cargo shorts. Apparently that’s what all the California kids wore nowadays. I must’ve grown up since I left, because I preferred wearing a suit with a Glock or a pair of cammies…with a badass M-16.
“Nice. I’d like to learn how to surf sometime. It looks so freeing.”
I cocked a brow. What an odd choice of words. “Freeing?”
“Yeah.” She stole a quick look at me, her cheeks pink. “Like…it’s just you and the ocean, and no one can tell you what to do or how to act. No one can yell at you for riding a wave, or just sitting out there, watching the world pass by. I don’t even really know how that feels, and I doubt I ever will.”
With a father like hers? Doubtful.
I’d resented being asked to come here to babysit some spoiled little brat, but seeing her look so despondent tugged at the little bit of heartstrings I had. “I’ll teach you, if you want.”
Fuck. Why had I opened my stupid mouth and blurted out that shit?
“Really?” She perked up, her shoulders straight and her sapphire blue eyes shining. She looked way too pretty right now. Way too much like a pretty woman, and not enough like an assignment. “Do you mean it?”
Hell no. “Sure. Why not?”
I could think of at least a hundred reasons why not. The last thing I needed was to spend time with her out in the ocean. She’d probably wear a tiny bikini underneath her wetsuit. And she’d cling to me in fear, her slender body pressed to mine as she learned how to ride the waves…
Maybe she would chicken out and say no.
“Can we start now?” she asked, practically shouting in my ear. She hopped off the bench and did a little dance thing that was way too fucking cute. Her whole body trembled with excitement. I could feel it rolling off her. “I’m game if you are.”
I choked on a laugh. So much for her chickening out. Some small part of me admired her enthusiasm. A lot of girls wavered and couldn’t make up their minds. I was getting the sinking suspicion she wasn’t that kind of girl. “I think we should do it when we can actually see what we’re doing.”
“Tomorrow morning?”
I scratched my head and scrunched my nose. “Uh, you’ll need a board, a bathing suit, and a wetsuit first.”
“I have a bathing suit already.” She cocked her head. “Wait. Does a bikini work, or does it have to be a one-piece?”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say she needed a one-piece. At least it would cover more of her skin, but she might find out I lied, and then she would start to question everything I told her. I couldn’t afford that right now. “Bikinis are fine. Preferred, even.”
She nibbled on her lower lip. “Would you go shopping with me tomorrow? Help me pick out the right gear? Then maybe we could head out to the waves.”
Shopping? Hell no. I didn’t want to go shopping. For girls, shopping was a marathon sport. I’d probably be dragged through ten stores before she could find the perfect color surfboard. And a matching wetsuit. And probably a fucking hair bow, too. “I’d love to.”
I forced a smile and tried to look on the bright side of things. I needed to spend time with her, and this would accomplish that. After the heinous shopping experience, I would be rewarded with surfing. It wouldn’t be so bad, would it?
“Thank you.” Her cheeks flushed and she gave me a shy smile. “Where should we meet?”
“At your dorm around eight?”
I met her eyes. “Or is that too early for you, Ginger?”
She stiffened, the fetching pink color leaving her cheeks. That was probably a good thing, since she looked far too cute wearing a blush. There was that steely determination again. When she looked at me, her eyes flashing with challenge, she looked like her father. “I’ll be there. I don’t sleep in till twelve.”
“All right.” I inclined my head. “Then off to bed you go.”
She laughed. “You can’t send me to bed. Who do you think you are? My father?”
Hell no. But I worked for her father, so that had to count for something. “Hey, if you want to surf, you need to be well rested. If you’re hung over and tired, I’m not taking you.”
“I won’t be hung over.”
I eyed her cup, even though I knew damn well it didn’t have alcohol in it. “Tell that to the judge.”
“Fine. I’m going to bed.” She clamped her mouth and grabbed her shoes. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I’ll walk you,” I offered, standing up. It would make me feel better to know she was safely ensconced behind locked doors before I went back to my apartment. It was my job, after all.
She flushed and ducked her head. “If you want to. But you can’t come in.”
She was probably thinking I wanted to walk her home to try to steal a kiss or cop a feel. Well, she could think that all she wanted. It wasn’t happening. In fact, it had been strictly forbidden. I had even gotten a lecture from the senator about what was allowed and what wasn’t—complete with a signed contract. As if I was a child who needed to be shown on a fucking doll where I could and couldn’t touch.
I shoved my hands in my pockets, feeling ridiculous. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Then why walk with me?” she asked, her head cocked.
“So I’ll know where to meet you tomorrow.” I shrugged. “Ya know, for our shopping.”
“Oh. Right.” She started walking, and I fell into step beside her while scanning the shadows for any threats. “I knew that.”
I laughed lightly. “Sure you did.”
“I can’t think of any other reason you’d want to walk me.”
I shook my head, then realized, like an idiot, I’d never asked her what her name was. If I accidentally blurted it out before she told me who she was, the gig would be up before I even got started. “What’s your name, anyway?”
“Carrie. Yours?”
She left off her last name just as her father instructed her to do. I could report back that she was following instructions like a good little girl. Although…walking with strange men she met on the beach after dark wasn’t exactly playing by the rules. But since it was with me, I would let the infraction slide this time.
“I’m Finn. Finn Coram.”
She gave me another smile. She looked so pretty, smiling at me in the moonlight. It would be a hell of a long year keeping the horny college boys off her. “Nice to meet you, Finn.”
“Back atcha, Carrie,” I said, forcing a grin. I hated acting like a foolish boy. Hated pretending to be something I wasn’t. “But I still prefer Ginger.”
She hesitated, licking her lips. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. Go for it.”
“Why are you teaching me how to surf? What made you offer?” She stole a quick glance at me. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
Already, she was questioning my motives. My respect for her grew. This wasn’t a bimbo socialite. She knew to use caution, even if she wasn’t using enough of it. I shrugged. “Why not?”
“In my world, there’s always a reason.” She lifted a shoulder and stopped at a pathway leading to a big dorm. “So you’ve got to have one.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t.” I leaned against the building next to hers and crossed my ankles. “This your building?”
She didn’t answer my question, but narrowed her eyes on me. “I’ll meet you out here at eight.”
“All right.”
She stared at me. I arched my brow in return, waiting to see what the hell she was waiting for. If it was a good night kiss, she would be waiting a hell of a long time. She tapped her foot. “You can go now,” she said.
“I’ll wait until you’re safely inside.”
Her foot stopped tapping and she glowered at me. Oh, yeah. She definitely took after her father. “And I’ll wait till you leave.”
We stared each other down, neither one of use seeming to want to be the one who looked away first. After a bit more of our little Mexican standoff, I chuckled. “I can do this all night, Ginger.”
“So can I.” She tilted her head and studied her nails. “You know, you’re starting to remind me of my father’s private security firm.”
“Your father has private security? Or he works in it?”
She flushed. “Yeah, he has security.”
“Why?”
“None of your business. Is there something you want to tell me?”
“Of course not.” I laughed but shifted on my feet. She was way too close to the truth already. I would need to back down to remain undercover. “Do I look like private security?”
She ran her gaze over me. “Not really, but that doesn’t mean anything. You’re being awfully…protective.”
“Ya know, I’m a Marine. It’s kind of our thing to guard people.”
She pursed her lips. “Fair enough, but still. Go home before I call security on your butt.”
“There you go, bossing me around again.” I picked up a piece of her hair without intending to do so. It was so soft and pretty. “Fine, but I’ll see you right here in the morning.”
“Okay.” She nodded and bit her lower lip. “Bye.”
I dropped her hair and headed back toward the beach, where I could then hop on my motorcycle and ride back to my empty apartment. As I turned the corner, I stopped and peeked out. She headed toward her building, her head low and her steps unhurried. I pulled out my iPhone and jotted off a quick text to update the senator.
I’m here and have seen her. All is well.
As I slid the phone into my pocket without awaiting a reply, I watched her go with a smile on my face. The senator had obviously underestimated his daughter’s street smarts. Sure, she’d made a few blunders, but she’d also made some smart choices. She hadn’t given me her full name, and she’d lied to me to hide her true location in case I was some creepy stalker.
Her father would be proud.
With only ten minutes to spare, I hurriedly applied the last touches to my lip gloss, checked out my hair, and turned off the bathroom light. If I had primped right, I looked effortlessly, naturally beautiful. That’s what the website said I would look like, anyway. I had never really bothered to primp for a boy, so I’d had to rely on my best friend for help.
Google.
Was it pathetic that I had no one else to ask? Sure. But at least Google never let me down. It had also given me the talk, the same one my mother avoided until right before I left for school. And when I’d finally been given the talk, it had been with so many euphemisms even I had become confused while trying to figure out what drumsticks had to do with warm apple pie.
I smoothed my tank top over my stomach. I had paired it with some yoga pants, and I wore my red bikini underneath the simple outfit just in case Finn wanted to go out in the water afterward. Tiptoeing past a snoring Marie, I managed to make it out of the dorm without waking her up.
I probably worried for nothing. I doubted a stampede of elephants would have woken Marie up. The girl had been snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Her arms were flung out to her sides, and a huge puddle of drool gathered under her cheek. She’d probably have a hell of a hangover when she woke up, so I had set my bottle of Motrin next to her bed on my way out.
I glanced
at my phone and walked faster. A quick call home would be a good idea. That way I wouldn’t have to deal with my parents while out with Finn. I quickly dialed home and leaned against the wall. They picked up on the first ring, as if they’d been hovering by the phone waiting for me to call all morning.
“Hello?” Mom said.
A line clicked as Dad picked up the phone in his office. “Carrie?”
I smiled. “Hi, guys.”
“How’s college going?” Mom asked, her voice trembling.
“Have you met anyone nice yet?” Dad asked.
“Yeah.” I pictured Finn and smiled. “A couple of people.”
“What are their names?” Dad asked. I could picture him sitting at his desk, pencil in hand, waiting to look into anyone who dared say hello to me. “I’ll do a background check.”
“Dad. No.”
“But—”
“No.”
Mom sighed. “Let her be, dear.”
“Fine.” I heard something slam down. “But if you get involved with someone, I’ll expect to get his name from you.”
“She’s not going to do that yet.” Mom paused. “Right? We had our little talk. Do we need to have another one?”
I flinched. “God, no.” I cleared my throat. “I mean, uh, no, thank you. I’m good. And I’m not seeing anyone yet. I’ve only been here two days.”
Dad laughed. “That’s my girl.”
I peeked at the time. I had less than one minute to get downstairs. “I’m about to go out with a friend of mine, though. Shopping.”
“Oh, how delightful.” Mom, of course, perked up at the word shopping. “Where are you going? What are you shopping for?”
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