Smooth Operators [Clandestine Affairs 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Zara Chase

  “It’s what dads do,” he said with a mock smile.

  “I beg your pardon?” Briana snatched her gaze away from his cock and moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue.

  “It’s a father’s job to worry about his child, even when that child’s an adult and doesn’t want to be worried about.”

  She curled her upper lip. “Mine obviously didn’t get the memo.”

  “Perhaps he’s trying to make up for lost time,” Harley said. “He’s a career soldier, so you probably don’t need me to tell you that family life and soldiering don’t always mix.”

  “I’d expect you guys to make excuses for him.”

  “Honey, we’re just telling it like it is,” Gus said. “It doesn’t make your dad right. All we’re saying is, we know it’s not easy to juggle the two.”

  “Tell us about it,” Fergal invited.

  She glanced at him. Yep, the bulge had subsided. Briana felt ridiculously pleased to have given him an erection, just by looking at him. Take that! It seemed only fair. Since inviting them inside and being in close proximity to all those rippling muscles and free-flowing testosterone, her honey had been trickling freely, soaking her panties, and her nipples were conducting a full-scale war against the fabric of her bra. Geez!

  “It’s a long story,” she belatedly replied to Fergal’s question.

  Gus disappeared into the kitchen and starting playing with the coffeemaker. Ha, good luck with that. The machine was older than she was, an antique in the annals of electronic gadgets. It was still in perfect working order, if you knew how to work it. It also happened to make the best coffee she’d ever tasted, but she didn’t count on getting a cup any time soon unless she offered to help. And that she had no intention of doing.

  Annoyingly, Gus appeared to figure it out for himself. She heard him humming as he moved about the kitchen, ground the beans, and assembled the stuff he needed. He opened and closed the old cabinets and in no time at all he reappeared with a tray loaded with a full coffeepot, cream, and sugar. He’d even unearthed her emergency stash of chocolate chip cookies.

  “We’ve got all day, honey,” Gus said, plonking himself down next to her and pouring her a mug of steaming coffee. “Tell us what we can do to help.”

  “Helping ladies in distress is our specialty,” Harley added.

  I’ll just bet it is.

  * * * *

  Fergal watched her blow on the surface of her coffee, cradling the mug in both of her hands as she stalled for time. She clearly was in trouble here, that much was immediately obvious. She’d taken on a huge project and seemed to think she could handle it alone. Fergal wasn’t sexist. He could see she’d done a good job of replastering one of the walls in this room, and she’d probably be equally good at painting those walls. But they were cosmetic jobs. The real work—the roof, electrics, and plumbing—were skilled jobs that she seemed to think she could farm out on an ad-hoc basis. It would never work, and he suspected she already knew it. He also suspected that she was too proud to admit it, or to ask for help.

  “What branch of the service were you guys in?” she asked.

  Fergal had figured she’d ask something to deflect attention away from herself and was happy enough to answer her.

  “Three fine upstanding former Special Operations Command Marines at your service, ma’am,” he said.

  She trapped a smile. “Always faithful, always forward,” she muttered. “The silent warriors.”

  Gus elevated a brow. “The lady knows our motto and our nickname.”

  “I’m an army brat, but don’t expect me to tell you I’m impressed because you made the grade in that elite corp.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it,” Harley said, sending her a wink.

  “Let me guess,” she said. “You have to ace courses in physical fitness, swimming, and hand-to-hand combat, just to get through the initial selection course.”

  Fergal nodded. “Something like that.”

  She didn’t need to know about the rifle and pistol marksmanship, irregular warfare operations or the requirement to be an advanced linguist. She had a rough idea of their capabilities, which was a start. All they had to do now was to build on that and persuade her to trust them. She’d assured them she was okay, so technically they’d done what they were sent here to do. Fergal could see for himself that she was fit—very fit. She was also as feisty as heck, but walking away from her simply wasn’t an option. She was in urgent need of their help, whether she realized it or not. He didn’t need to ask his buddies if they felt the same way. He knew they did. They were as taken with her as Fergal was and would go that extra mile for her for no other reason than making her smile.

  Fergal knew, just from making occasional eye contact with Harley and Gus, that their thoughts were already veering in the same direction as his. It was a while since they’d found a woman they all wanted to share. Briana fit their exacting requirements, and then some. All that red hair and freckles. That stacked body and endlessly long legs. She only had to look at him and he hardened. When had that last happened? Shit, when she gave him the once-over, he’d almost shot his load in his pants. How embarrassing would that have been? Fergal, the master of control, losing it because a cute chick gave him the eye. His buds would laugh themselves silly.

  He longed to loosen her braid and help her out of those dirty clothes. He wanted to see her hair billowing down her back and her body as nature intended. Problem was, no way would he try to persuade her to play with them until they’d figured out what was going on around her. If she came to them, it had to be of her own free will, and not because she felt she owed them some sort of debt.

  Shit, having an honorable streak sometimes sucked.

  “Have things been going wrong here?” Harley asked. “I don’t mean to imply you’re not doing a good job, honey, but it’s one hell of a project to tackle alone.”

  Fergal could see that she’d been about to tear Harley a new one for implying she couldn’t cope. His hastily worded explanation appeared to satisfy her, and she shared a grimace between them.

  “Yeah, I guess the road to satisfying all the trillions of safety requirements is rougher than I’d thought. Sometimes I’m tempted just to tart the place up and live in it alone. That would be much easier, but unfortunately wouldn’t provide me with an income.”

  “You could sell,” Gus suggested.

  “Not a chance! I was brought up in this house and love it like crazy. I’ll find a way to hang on to it, no matter what I have to do.”

  “What happened to your mom?” Harley asked.

  She shrugged. “Mom and Dad married right out of college. They were way too young to make such a big commitment, and, like you said earlier, Mom couldn’t adapt to army life. I don’t remember much about her. She took off with a stockbroker when I was little, and I’ve had no contact with her since.”

  “Ouch!” Fergal sent her a sympathetic smile. “She’s never tried to contact you?”

  Briana shook her head. “Nope.”

  “That must have been tough.”

  “What you’ve never had you don’t miss. I wouldn’t know her if I ran into her in the street.” Because I destroyed all the pictures Dad had of her as soon as I was old enough to realize how little I must have meant to her. “Dad brought me here to live with Gran and was an infrequent visitor, in between postings.”

  “He didn’t take you along?” Harley flapped a hand. “Stupid question. He couldn’t, not without his wife being with him.”

  “Right.” She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, so not wanting to talk about this stuff. “Gran more than made up for his absences. I adored her. We shared everything, and I didn’t need anyone else.”

  Fergal nodded, like he thought he understood. A tough guy like him couldn’t possibly, but, meeting his gaze and seeing a flicker of recognition flash through his eyes, somehow she knew that he did. She wasn’t the only wounded soldier on parade, but she suspected the ice cap would melt before Fergal admitt
ed to his emotional weaknesses.

  “Now Gran’s gone, too, and I need to move on,” she said briskly.

  “It’s too late for your dad to be part of your life?” Fergal asked.

  “I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone.” Briana jutted her chin and shared a glance between the three of them. “And, grateful though I am for your visit, that includes all of you as well, gentlemen.”

  Chapter Four

  “Ain’t gonna happen until we’ve satisfied ourselves you’re okay,” Fergal said with an easy smile.

  “I could throw you out.”

  He laughed. “You’re certainly welcome to try.”

  “Don’t imagine that I couldn’t do it, tough guy. Just because there’re three of you, doesn’t mean you have the upper hand.” She shared a sweetly sarcastic smile between them. “Just so you know, I’m a natural redhead, with the temper to match. It’s not my fault. It’s embedded in my DNA. I don’t freak at the sight of blood and I don’t fight fair.”

  Gus chuckled. “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you look when you get mad?”

  “Oh, for goodness sake!” She threw up her hands. “If I tell you what’s been going on, then will you leave?”

  “Depends upon what you tell us,” Harley replied.

  Briana sipped at her coffee, waiting for her temper to subside as she tried to decide how much to tell them. Unlike some of the locals, their expressions conveyed respect rather than condescension at what she, a mere female, was attempting to achieve. Even so, she absolutely didn’t need to share—not with them, certainly not with Greg—but something about their genuine-seeming concern decided her. Not that there was anything they could do. They seemed to think there was some grand scheme put in place by faceless entities to make her fail. Briana knew better. There was no conspiracy. Her problems were simply attributable to bad luck. If she could make them understand that, presumably they’d leave her in peace.

  “Before I say anything, I need you to promise that you won’t pass it on to my dad,” she said, addressing the comment to Fergal, who appeared to be the leader of this trio. “You were sent to make sure I’m okay, which, as you can see, I am. I don’t want him getting involved here. Not that he can physically do so when he’s overseas, but your presence here shows that his tentacles reach far. I don’t need him on my case. It’s way too late for that.”

  “Agreed,” Fergal said without hesitation. “Why not give us a guided tour and tell us what’s gone wrong along the way?”

  “Fair enough.” Briana put her coffee mug aside and stood up. “Follow me, guys.”

  She led them into the west wing, conscious of three pairs of eyes following her ass. She was tempted to wiggle it, aware that she had nothing to be ashamed of, at least in the backside department. Briana resisted, figuring it was better not to let them think she had any personal interest in them even if, on a visceral level at least, she absolutely did. She’d defy any woman with a libido and a pulse to react to them any other way. She’d have to be blind not to be affected by such a plethora of masculine vitality crowding her out, messing with her head, sending spikes of lust jolting through her whenever one of them fixed her with a slow, predatory smile that suggested its owner liked what he saw. Briana glanced down at the state of her clothing and grimaced. Yeah, right!

  “This part of the house has six bedrooms in various stages of decoration, each with the beginnings of an en-suite bathroom springing into life. I’ve had to sacrifice a room on each side of the corridor to make space for the bathrooms,” she said. “I’m told that even out here in the wilds, people expect their own facilities.”

  “There were eight bedrooms to start with and two bathrooms,” Gus said, sounding surprised. “What did your grandparents use this place for?”

  “Same thing I want to, except in their day they didn’t have to abide by all the regulations that are holding me up.” She smiled, pointing to a faded sepia picture on one of the walls, showing men from another age sitting on the dock, fishing. “That’s my granddad, and some of his buddies from out of town, taken more than fifty years ago.”

  “Time’s kinda stood still around these parts,” Gus said, examining the picture. “If that’s one of the reasons why you love the place then I totally get where you’re coming from. Life moves on way too quick nowadays.”

  “Yeah, it’s so quiet out here that it gets under your skin after a while. There’s lots of activity on this lake, but not on this side of it. We’re too inaccessible, which is just the way I want it to stay. It gives the lodge a unique edge that I plan to trade on to attract customers.”

  “How come the work on the bathrooms has stopped?” Fergal asked, poking his head through one of the door openings.

  Briana wrinkled her nose. “The guys doing the plumbing got sent off on an out of state job by their employers.”

  Fergal flexed his brows. “Is that normal?”

  “No, they were pretty surprised when they got the job, as a matter of fact. It’s never happened before, apparently, but in these difficult times economically their employer had to cast his net wider. When he got the contract the guys had no choice but to go.”

  “That must have messed up your schedule,” Harley said.

  “Yeah, on top of one of the electricians having an accident that’s kept him off work for over a week, it didn’t help any. And don’t get me started on the building inspectors.” Briana puffed air through her lips. “They seem to be here all the time, poking around, finding more and more things for me to comply with.”

  “Presumably you didn’t need to apply for change of use, seeing as how the building has been used to accommodate visitors for years,” Fergal said.

  “That’s what I thought, but it seems I was wrong. I had to get an engineer to do a professional evaluation, which cost a small fortune, permission from the local planning council, and…well, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you about all the other hoops I’ve had to jump through just to carry on where Gran left off.”

  “I assume she never bothered to get approval and no one worried her over it.”

  “Right, but they’re sure as hell worrying me. Seems I can’t do anything right first time, even though I do precisely what they ask me to.”

  Fergal frowned. “It’s either bureaucracy at its finest or someone’s got it in for you.” He placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her out of the half-completed bathroom. “Seems your dad was right to be concerned.”

  “There’s absolutely no reason why anyone would try to sabotage my efforts.” Briana shook off his hand. It felt too damned good resting there, and she couldn’t afford to lean on it or him. “Don’t see shadows where none exist. The only enemy I’m fighting is, as you just pointed out, bureaucracy.”

  “Who was the guy in the SUV who passed us down the road?” Gus asked. “He must have been coming from here.”

  “And drove us off the road,” Harley added, scowling.

  “Oh God, that would have been Greg. He came up to see if I was okay. He’s always running late for some appointment or other and drives way too fast even when he isn’t.”

  “Who’s Greg?” Fergal and Harley asked together.

  “An old friend.”

  Fergal shot her a look. “Friend or flame?”

  “None of your damned business.”

  “It is when he tried to run us off the road,” Fergal responded. “No, he did run us off the road. Deliberately, I’m sure.”

  “He wouldn’t do that.”

  “You’re pretty keen to defend him, but you weren’t there, so you can’t possibly know what happened.”

  “Okay,” she said huffily. “If you must know, Greg and I were an item during our last couple of years at college. He wanted to get married as soon as we graduated, I didn’t, so we went our separate ways. End of story.”

  Fergal scowled. “So it ended badly, but now you’re buddies again?”

  “He got over it, realized I was right, and married someone else. It
didn’t work out and they divorced a year ago.”

  “What does he do?” Harley asked.

  “He works with his father. He has a marketing business in Glasgow.”

  Gus, who appeared to have taken a dislike to Greg, screwed up his features and grunted. “What does he market?”

  “I’m not sure.” Briana shrugged. “I think he helps local people to get the right exposure for their businesses, stuff like that.”

  “And this Greg drives all the way out here, just to see if you’re all right?” Fergal fixed her with a questioning glance. “Seems a bit extreme.”

  “Perhaps, but that’s just the way he is.” Briana wasn’t about to tell them that she agreed with that assessment. She’d never get rid of them if she did. Tell them! “Come on, I’ll show you the rest.”

  They moved back into the great room. Its furniture was covered in dust sheets, the walls were stripped bare, the windows grimy. It must look cold and uninviting to strangers, but Briana didn’t see it that way. For her it held a cornucopia of memories from happier times—an atmosphere she was determined to recreate.

  “This is the hub of the house, where guests will be able to relax, exaggerate about their day’s fishing, make new friends, and generally de-stress.”

  Fergal bent to scratch Max’s ears. “I can feel the atmosphere, even as the room is now. It’s a fabulous setting and a room with positive vibes. Your plan ought to work.”

  She rolled her eyes. “If I ever satisfy the inspectors.”

  “I can’t imagine you ever leaving anyone unsatisfied, darlin’,” Harley said.

  “Stop flirting with me, Mr. Osborne,” Briana replied, sending him a quelling glance. “I’m serious about this, and I don’t appreciate being patronized.”

  “Hey, I was deadly serious, and I certainly wasn’t patronizing you.”

  “Quit fooling,” Gus said, shooting Harley the finger. Briana smiled in spite of herself but quickly straightened her lips out again. They were trying to charm her, and she was in no mood to be charmed. They might have gotten her juices flowing, but Briana didn’t do casual sex. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done any sort of sex, other than the self-induced variety, but that was beside the point.