“You just made that man’s night.” Her C.O. was now smiling at her as he cut into his steak.
She shrugged. “He made mine. I wasn’t lying. This is delicious.”
“I know. Like I said, Royal Pines is lucky to have him.”
Indeed, she silently agreed as she dug into her entrée, questions, and Finn, and fake engagements on hold.
They ate in a companionable silence, and it wasn’t until dessert appeared and she raved over Bugsby’s decadent tiramisu, that she felt the need to speak. Her lack of speech was abnormal. She always felt like talking, so spending the meal in total silence was newsworthy. Heck, she’d been unusually quiet the last two days. Thank God her brothers weren’t around to tease her odd behavior.
She cleared her throat and got back to questioning the captain’s last words. “So, sir, did you really say you’d rather I didn’t leave tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
His confirmation did little to clear her confusion. In fact, it worsened. “But why? Don’t you want me to release you from this fake engagement?”
“No. Yes.” He shook his head and blew out a breath. “I mean no, not until you need to leave for college.”
“But, why?” she repeated.
“Because I need your help.”
Trisha reeled back. Never had she ever expected to hear those words from him again. She was a civilian now. But that didn’t matter. She’d always be there for him, or anyone else from their unit. They were family. A brother/sisterhood. Forever bonded.
“Of course, sir,” she said, her needs and issues instantly pushed to the back burner. She straightened her spine and stared him directly in the eyes. “Anything. Just name it.”
A smile claimed his lips again. “Thank you, Corporal, but maybe you should hear what I need.”
“Okay. What do you need?”
Heat entered his gaze but quickly disappeared under a veil of calm. “A fiancée.”
Chapter Seven
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, actually, I’m not,” Brett replied. “Finn reminded me of a few minor…issues…I have coming up, and that a fiancée would actually help eliminate them. I hope,” he added.
“What issues?”
Trisha watched as he stuck out his chin and cracked his neck. An anxious action. Why in the world was her commander acting uncomfortable? Nervous wasn’t in Captain Brett Brennan’s vocabulary.
“Well…” He cleared his throat and stared at his hands resting on the table. “I…there are these two…” He paused to draw in a breath and meet her gaze. “Have you ever had an admirer?”
God, he was so adorable. The earnestness rounding his gaze and extra color to his cheeks cut deep. Too deep. So deep her chest hurt just looking at the man.
“Yes.” She nodded, and took pity on him. “Are you saying you need me to help ward off a few overzealous guests?” With his good looks and easy disposition, her captain no doubt racked up a lot of devotees.
“Yes. I know it’s stupid, and I usually deal with it, but Finn made a great point this evening.”
She narrowed her gaze on him. “That maybe this fake engagement could work to your advantage, too?”
“Exactly.” He smiled, uncertainty rapidly replaced by his trademark calm. “Most of them I can handle, but there are two women who are a problem. The first arrives next week. Monica oversteps guest boundaries. I’m sure with us acting engaged, she’ll cool it.”
“And the other?”
“Much worse.” A grimace wrinkled his face. “Clarissa is very bold, very forward, and used to getting her way.”
“Sounds like a peach.”
He snickered without an ounce of amusement. “A determined one. I walked into my cabin one time and found her naked in my bed.”
Water spewed from Trisha’s mouth as a snort refused to wait until she’d swallowed. “Seriously? Wow.” Wiping her face with a napkin, she shook her head. “Then the woman’s dumb.”
His brows shot up. “Why would you say that?”
“Because you’re a marine,” she replied. “You don’t want things handed to you. You like the thrill of the chase. The challenge to best your prey.”
A full-blown smile erased the aggravation from his features. “True.” He leaned back in his chair and nodded. “I do love a good chase.”
“Me, too.”
They stared at each other, grinning and breathing, breathing and grinning. And, oh yeah, her heart beat a hard warning against her ribs. Don’t take up the gauntlet. You won’t win.
“So.” She cleared her throat and willed her pulse to slow down. “I still don’t understand, sir. If Clarissa is such a pain—heck, she’s practically a stalker—why don’t you refuse her business?”
“Because her dad went to school with my dad and Terry,” he explained.
She nodded. “Yeah, that does create a problem.”
“So does you calling me sir.”
True. It definitely didn’t fit in with their charade.
“I know.” She sighed. “But I can’t seem to stop myself.”
A wickedly sinful gleam entered his eyes and tripped her pulse. What was he up to?
He leaned forward. “Then maybe I need to give you an incentive to stop.”
Trisha opened her mouth to say…what? She had no idea, but just then the chef appeared with a server to clear their table.
“Will you need anything else, Mr. Brennan?”
“No, Bugsby. Thank you.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Thank you so much. My father was right about you. Everything was wonderful.”
“Thank you, Ms. Jennings. You’re too kind.” Pink flooded his round cheeks. “If that’ll be all, then please enjoy your champagne and the rest of the night.” He nodded to someone in the corner, and a second later, the lights dimmed and the music grew louder. Then, with a quick nod to them, Bugsby disappeared into the kitchen.
“Well, my lovely fiancée, I think we’re expected to dance,” the captain stated as he stood and held out his palm.
Smiling, she placed her hand in his and rose to her feet, praying none of the apprehension and excitement bursting through her veins showed on her face.
It’s okay, she told herself. The staff was lingering around, watching them. She could put on a show. She could be fake. Too bad she was enjoying the captain’s touch so much there wasn’t much fake in her actions.
And when he pulled her in close, and the space between them disappeared, so did her breath. It caught in her throat as her body registered high on the euphoria scale.
Topped the charts.
Busted the charts.
Decimated anything resembling a chart.
The less space between their bodies, the thicker her brain cells became, until she functioned in a fog.
Sliding her arms around his neck, Trisha rested her head against his broad shoulder and settled in tight.
This is what a fiancée would do, she rationalized.
And the big hand he had on her waist with a wicked thumb drawing circles on her hip…that was normal fiancé stuff, too. So was the hand that slid up her back and was now stroking her hair, making it tough to keep in the moan brewing inside.
Yep, all normal fiancé stuff.
She closed her eyes and continued to hold him close as he led them in a very slow, sensual dance. Chest to chest, hips to hips, they lined up perfectly thanks to her high heels. Her whole body was alive, responding to him, anticipating his moves so well, they danced as one. It was insane, yet perfect.
Yeah, perfectly dangerous.
Her eyes snapped open. This was the captain, not a sexy cowboy helping her out. Okay, so he was both. Still, she was determined to stand strong and resist the attraction simmering between them. Somehow.
When the song ended, he drew back and smiled down at her. “Well done. And since we’re still being watched, I think I had better kiss you.”
Now wasn’t good for her. It was the absolute worst time, seeing
as her control had all but left the building.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, sir.” Her whole body shook in protest of her words. Not really. Darn thing was shaking with need for her fake fiancé.
Her frowning fake fiancé.
“What did I tell you about calling me sir?” His grip on her hips increased, and her burgeoning composure tripped out the door and joined her control outside.
“That I needed an incentive.”
Shoot. That wasn’t what she’d meant to say.
“Exactly. How about this?” He leaned close, bending slightly until they were eye level. “Every time you call me sir, I get to kiss you.”
Oh no. Heck, no. That wasn’t good. Especially since a thrill raced down her overheated body while her mind was already repeating sir in her head.
Yes, sir. No, sir. Please may I have another, sir?
His grin increased. “You’re saying it in your head, aren’t you?”
Darn it. She’d forgotten the captain had this weird ability to read her thoughts. Or expression, or whatever. Well, she wasn’t just going to admit it.
She tilted her head. “Maybe.”
“Thought so,” he said, smile still curving his lips.
His scrumptious, full, very close lips. So close they were sharing a breath. She only had to…
“You always were a little rebellious,” he said in a sexy, low tone.
Heck yeah. She fought to keep the smile from her lips. “You know it, sir—”
Shoot. He tricked her. Darn captain knew if he kept her talking, she’d speak without thinking.
And any remaining ability to think disappeared the second his lips covered hers.
Soft, but only for a second, then hard and demanding and very, very hot. Good Lord, she was going to self-combust.
He pulled her in close, one hand shoved into her hair, holding the back of her head as he devoured her strength in a delicious kiss, the other gripping her hip tight, making sure she didn’t leave.
As if she could.
Funny thing, one needed strength to leave. Of which she had none. Zilch. Zip. Nada. Hence the clutching of his shirt. Her hands were fisted in the material so tight, she’d popped a button. The sound of it pinging off the floor vaguely registered in her foggy mind. But the accompanying giggles from the staff did, and apparently, the captain heard them, too, because he broke the kiss, but didn’t release her.
His gaze was dark and smoldering, and Trisha’s whole body trembled on impact. She cleared her throat and drew back a bit, palm smoothing his damaged shirt.
“Sorry, sir. I’ll buy—”
Crushed against rock hard heaven, she let out a startled oomph, which the commander easily swallowed with a second kiss. Oh Lordy, what a kiss. Hard, yet tender. Demanding, yet giving. And yeah, she gave, touching her tongue to his, matching stroke for stroke with equal fervor. He let out a sexy, male sound, and her good parts immediately tingled in response. She skimmed her hands over his broad shoulders to lock behind his head to combat her wobbly knees.
By the time they broke for air a second time, she was a trembling, needy mess, and so darn aroused she ached. What the heck? She never ached for a guy. Ever. But this wasn’t just any guy. This was the captain. The man she could now admit she’d secretly admired from afar. For years.
Darn.
Not the best time to admit such a thing. Especially still clinging to the sexy, cowboy-marine. Forcing her gaze to meet his, she continued to pant and recognized heat, and something else in his eyes. Confusion.
Good. Welcome to the club.
“That was…” She shook her head and blinked, unsure how to proceed.
“Intense,” he supplied, breath hitting her face in ragged spurts.
She nodded. “Maybe we shouldn’t do that anymore.”
His deep chuckle ignited a fresh round of goose bumps. Darn him.
“Maybe you should stop calling me sir, or Captain, or any other military reference.”
Like that was going to happen any time soon.
“Seriously…?” She almost called him sir already. “That’s the only way I’ve addressed you the past six years. I can’t just stop.”
A sinful grin spread across his talented lips, and two deep dimples creased his face. “Guess I’ll just have to keep up the incentive until you start calling me Brett.”
Funny, he didn’t look upset.
A smile tugged her lips. Neither was she, which was bad. Very bad. The desire to call him Sir Captain Commander right then and there was incredibly strong. And by the twinkle gleaming in his eyes, he knew it, too.
“Go on,” he urged, leaning closer, voice dangerously low, big hands curving around her hips.
Oh, that man should not tempt her. Sir was on the tip of her tongue. Tingling her lips. Dying to be spoken. Begging to be heard.
“Say it, Trisha,” he taunted softly.
She hated how he knew her so well. “Say what…Brett?”
Trisha wasn’t sure what reaction she’d expected. Raised brows. A laugh. Both. So when his fingers tightened on her and gaze darkened to a deep, deep navy, she stopped breathing. Untamed. Primal. He stared her down like she was his prey.
Oh, Lordy. A delicious shiver spread over her entire aroused body.
The chase was on.
“Say it again.”
“Brett.”
Her voice was but a whisper, thanks to a rapid pulse beating her throat dry. Bone dry.
He yanked her close, buried his face in her neck and breathed in deep. “My name sounds good on your lips, Trisha,” he murmured against her skin.
She shivered and held tight, because, oh, heck yeah, her name sounded good on his lips, too. And his lips felt very good on her skin. Real good, if he just…oh yeah, right there.
She closed her eyes and moaned, pressing into his hard body as he nipped at the sensitive spot behind her ear. And he was hard. All of him.
Her center was wet and achy, and heaven help her, she wanted her fake fiancé to take her on the table next to her flowers in the middle of the deserted dining room.
Only it wasn’t deserted.
She snapped her eyes open. Two wait staff members still stood smiling in the corner. Darn. Didn’t they have other work to do?
“Ah…Brett,” she forced out.
“Humm…?” he questioned absently against the curve of her neck.
“We seem to be gathering an audience,” she informed, doing her best not to cross her eyes in ecstasy as he nipped her shoulder. “Another staff member joined the others in the corner.”
With a reluctance she could feel stiffening his body, the captain pulled back and held her at arm’s length. “Sorry. You’re damn potent, you know that?”
What she knew was he was the potent one. Heck. She still couldn’t focus.
He released her to run a hand over his head, and she worked to clear the fog from her brain. When he straightened, an unreadable expression crossed his face.
The captain was back.
“I think it’s time to leave. We’ve put on enough of a show for one day, don’t you think?”
A show? She resisted the urge to reel back as if slapped. Is that what they were doing? Is that what the darn incentive was all about?
Of course it was. The captain knew he could count on her loose lips to lead to kissing, hence the show.
Idiot.
She clamped her jaw tight and nodded, keeping her thoughts inside. Her thoughts. Criminy. She thought he was just as surprised, just as shocked at the sexual attraction sizzling between them.
He had been, darn it.
The guy had been confused. She hadn’t imagined his furrowed brow or clouded gaze or hard body. All real. And he hadn’t exactly denied the attraction. Heck, hadn’t he just told her she was potent?
She was so confused.
While he walked to the table to grab her flowers and his hat, she used the time to get those crazy thoughts under control, and bent down to pick up the button
she’d popped off his shirt. She had the whole night to sew it back on. They certainly weren’t going to be doing anything else. Nope. Nothing at all.
“Ready?” he asked, elbow out in an open invitation.
Hooking her arm through his, she refused to dwell on their kisses, and thought about his strange request instead as he led her outside.
A smile tugged her lips. She’d been so worried yesterday morning about asking the captain to help with the fake engagement, and here, tonight, he’d asked her. Needed her help. He wanted to extend their fake engagement for a full month after her parents’ visit. A total of almost six weeks.
She wasn’t going to last. No way could she fight her attraction to the sexy cowboy for that long.
A sudden sense of panic gripped tight, and her stride faltered as they stepped onto his porch.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” He stared down at her, brows furrowed in question.
Hysterical laughter bubbled up her throat. Oh, nothing, except I’ll be sharing a cabin with you the whole summer and fighting the urge to jump your bones.
Not something she could share with him. Nope.
Shaking her head, she released him to open the door. “Just thinking you should start locking your door. That might help keep naked guests out of your bed.”
He laughed, and luckily, didn’t call her out on the fact she’d stopped dead well before she’d twisted the knob to discover the unlocked door.
“Good idea,” he said, shutting the door behind them.
Her heart jumped at the sound of the lock clicking in place. Shoot. She hadn’t meant now. Nervous energy had her twisting around to smile at him. “Expecting naked guests tonight?”
“Well now.” His voice was low, smile sinful, gaze heated with a gleam of anticipation. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether or not you’re going to get naked.”
She laughed, despite her tingling good parts. “Nice try, cowboy,” she said, her voice a wee bit husky as she remembered last second to drop the c-word instead of sir.
Under no illusion, she knew, audience or no audience, the captain would make good on his incentive. Alone. With him. In a locked cabin. Not the best place for them to kiss.
At least, not if she wanted to keep things uncomplicated. Keep her goal on course with college, with her in control of her life.
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