by Tawny Weber
Aiden’s grimace quickly shifted to a rueful grin. Looked like all that new-agey stuff she was obsessed over might pay off.
“And the exit plan?” he asked. Never commit to a mission without a clear way out.
“When he’s better, and cleared by at least two doctors, we realize that we aren’t suited. I’m thinking we blame your career choice,” she said, batting her eyelashes and giving him a look so sexy and persuasive that he was nodding before he realized what she’d said.
“What? Why my career?”
“Because I don’t have one.” For a second, her lower lip poked out in a cute pout. “And before you suggest we blame it on me being too flighty, I’ve always been that way. He’s not going to believe you changed your mind over something that’s always been a fact.”
It took Aiden a second or two to follow that logic, but once he did, he had to admit she was right.
“Okay, fine,” he said grudgingly. “We can blame my commitment to being a SEAL. Statistics will support that claim.”
Hopefully a few of his team would beat the odds, since two were recently married and one newly engaged. But military and marriage weren’t a good bet under most odds. Factor in the added issues of Special Forces, with the extra dangers and secrecy, and the odds got a little longer.
“Ahhh, statistics,” Sage said fondly. Then she rolled her eyes. “A nice fallback and one my father will undoubtedly let himself believe. But we all know that I’m not statistically correct.”
“Are you any kind of correct?” Aiden asked in exasperation.
She pondered for a moment, her fingernail tapping on her lower lip in a way that made his mouth water.
“I’m sexually correct.”
“You do sex correctly?” he clarified before he could stop himself.
“Oh, God, no,” she said, laughing. “How boring would that be? I’m sexually correct in that I’m the perfect sexual orientation for all of my sexual preferences.”
Aiden had to sigh.
It was that, or drop his head into his hands and groan.
What was it about Sage that let her take a completely crazy statement, twist it into knots so it made perfect sense, and turn him on all at the same time?
He’d always found smart women sexy.
And Sage, God help them both, was brilliant. Twisted, flighty and very out there. But, his body insisted as it hardened in appreciation, definitely brilliant.
* * *
SAGE BIT HER LIP, trying not to laugh aloud at the frustrated expression on Aiden’s face. She’d never in a million years have allowed her imagination to venture into a scenario that had her father fighting for his life, and his battle dependent on she and Aiden pretending to be in love.
But since they were there, she was starting to think this might actually be kinda fun. Or at least, fun enough playing with Aiden to distract her from the terror dogging her every thought.
“Okay,” he said, waving his hand as if trying to erase all of her crazy comments. “Time to get serious.”
“Ahh, then you’re taking charge now,” she murmured.
He shot her a look that said she was stepping outside the serious line, and had better behave. Sage was tempted to ask if he’d spank her if she didn’t.
But she was afraid she might like his answer a little too much.
“If this is going to work we have to see it as a mission,” Aiden said, his words clipped and his tone cool. Official, she realized, leaning forward and clasping her hands together in anticipation. She’d never seen Aiden in military mode. This should be fun.
“Are you listening?” he asked, giving her a narrow look, his dark eyes assessing her seriousness.
As tempting as it was to tease him, Sage managed to keep her expression sincere. After all, she wanted this to work more than anything. Well, except for seeing him take command. That, she was really looking forward to.
“Of course I’m listening,” she said, gesturing with a finger wave that he keep it coming. “We’re on a mission. Of course, I’ve never been on a mission before. Unless you count those two months I belonged to the Commune of the Sacred Light up in Seattle and tried to convert the pescatarians to pork. You know, the other white meat.”
“I thought chicken—” Aiden cut himself off with a shake of his head, then gave her a chiding look. “Do you want us to successfully pull off this fake engagement or not? Either you call the shots, or I do.”
The tight knot that’d tangled her heart and guts so miserably the last week loosened for the first time. Not just because Aiden was home and taking charge. But because finally, here was someone who could actually distract her enough to keep from worrying every single second.
Diving into the distraction, she debated suggesting they share the shots, preferably out of a tequila bottle. But she figured that’d go over about as well as the pork idea had. Although Aiden probably wouldn’t threaten to roast her over a barbecue like the gang at the commune had. Who knew living on just seafood could make hemp-wearers so bloodthirsty.
“Call away,” she instructed, waving one hand regally as she leaned back on the couch and got comfy. Better him than her. She wasn’t so good at the making-rules thing. Mostly because she never cared about following them. But rules and Aiden? Peanut butter and jelly.
Something he was clearly aware of, since rather than looking surprised, he instead gave a nod to indicate he’d expected nothing less. Mulling with his chin low, he got up from the chair. He paced two steps to the right, clasped his hands behind his back like a general plotting a coup, paced two steps to the left, then faced her again.
“Okay, then, here we go. The obvious goal of the mission is to offer peace of mind to the Professor.” He waited for Sage to agree, which she quickly did, then gave an answering nod. “Which, to him, is the concept of both of us being settled and happy. Marriage, as he’s hinted at from time to time over the last decade, is his ultimate goal.”
Say what? Her father had dropped plenty of hints to her over the years. Hints she’d laughed at. But he’d tossed a few at Aiden, too? To the same reaction? She frowned. It was one thing for her to think they were totally unsuitable and the idea of them as a couple was funny. But she was oddly insulted that Aiden felt the same.
Then it hit her that this mission, as Aiden was calling it, was something her father really, really wanted. It was so important to him, and it might be the last thing he ever asked of her.
Suddenly all of the other things he’d ever asked bombarded her. That she come home for Christmas. That she get a degree. The three weeks he’d spent nagging her to see a dentist to make sure her tongue piercing wasn’t going to ruin her teeth. The concern he’d shown over the guy she was dating. Any guy, she realized. He’d been concerned about them all. To the point that, somewhere after her twentieth birthday, she’d stopped letting him meet them. All because it’d been easier than worrying about making her father happy.
What did that say about her? And how much longer did she have to worry about his happiness? Her chest too tight to pull in a deep breath, Sage bit her lip and tried to keep from crying.
“Sage?”
She took a shallow breath, trying to get air to her lungs. The pain was too much, though. She debated putting her head between her knees. But while she wasn’t averse to a head between her knees, she didn’t want it to be her own. Nor did she want to explain why it was there to Aiden.
Because that’d be admitting fear. Admitting that she didn’t believe that smiles and positive energy and this crazy scheme were going to be enough to pull her father through.
“Sage?” Aiden asked again, stepping over to lean down and peer at her face.
“I’m okay,” she croaked.
“What’s wrong?”
Unable—unwilling—to explain, she shrugged and waved at Aiden to
keep barking out rules.
He narrowed his eyes, stepping closer as if he were going to offer comfort. Then, since he probably didn’t figure mission leaders were supposed to hand out hugs, he frowned instead and gave her a nod.
“If we’re going to succeed, we both have to be completely committed to whatever means necessary to fulfill said mission.”
Blinking back the tears that were burning her eyelids, Sage sniffed and forced herself to focus on Aiden instead of her morbid thoughts.
A good choice, since he made for a great view. He was so cute, all serious and intense. Unable to resist, Sage widened her eyes and asked, “Will that include night-vision goggles, matching camo outfits and secret passwords?”
“Maybe,” he said without even a hint of a smile. “But more to the point is that we both agree that we’ll give this one hundred percent. If you want the Professor’s mind at ease, it’s going to take focus and effort.”
Sage frowned. Neither of which he seemed to think she had. Needing a few seconds to process that, she leaned back, tucking her feet under her. The nubby fabric of the sofa scraped gently over her bare toes, contrasting with the silk of her skirt.
“This isn’t a whim, Aiden. This isn’t an experiment or a fun lark. This is my father.” She paused, as much to swallow the tight ball of fear in her throat as for effect. “I’ll do whatever it takes, for as long as it takes, to bring him comfort and to keep him from worrying. So if Mission Marriage is the answer to his peace of mind, consider me in.”
He gave her a look so intense and searching, she felt like he’d just scanned her every thought, delved into her secrets and checked her pockets for loose change.
If he could package that, TSA would pay a fortune.
Sage shifted, angling her feet under her butt to keep herself from getting up to run from that look. Or, more to the point, from discovering what he’d found. Or worse, what he hadn’t.
As usual, he didn’t say.
Instead, he shook his head, then instructed, “Let’s call it Mission Engagement. Neither of us is crazy enough to think we’re marriage material.”
Sage blinked a couple of times, trying to process that kick in the gut. She wasn’t marriage material? As in, he didn’t think she was marriageable? Or was she simply not what he wanted in marriage?
Not sure why she cared, since marriage—especially marriage to someone like Aiden—was the last thing she wanted, Sage frowned.
Whether it was intuition, that he caught the look on her face or he was just in a hurry, Aiden waved his hand as if turning the page. Then he followed it up with lifting two fingers in the air.
“Point one is that this is a mission. Which means point two is that we agree that to better ensure the success of the mission, the truth of the situation would be kept between just the two of us. Under no circumstances is anyone else to know that this is a fake engagement.”
“So you wouldn’t actually want to marry me, but you don’t want anyone to think you’d fake our engagement?” she clarified.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t want to marry you,” he corrected, pushing his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. His brow furrowed, a frustrated look in his eyes as he shrugged. “But wanting something doesn’t mean you should do it. That’s kindergarten one-oh-one.”
“I must have napped through that lesson.” Her own more casual shrug shifted the loose fabric of her dress so it slid down one shoulder.
Something flashed in his eyes as his gaze followed the silk’s slide. Something hot and wild and edgy enough to make Sage’s nerves tighten and heat swirl low in her belly. Then he blinked and the look was gone, leaving Sage wondering if celibacy was causing her to hallucinate.
The hot warmth between her thighs and the delicious tightening of her nipples weren’t just her imagination, though.
“So marrying me wouldn’t be so bad?” she teased, her words low and husky, a hint of flirty enticement in her smile.
“Of course it would.”
Huh?
“You said...” The words trailed off as she shook her head. Debating her many failings in his eyes wasn’t going to help them comfort her father. “Forget it. You were outlining the mission rules. Go ahead.”
“Okay,” he said, his gaze narrowed as if he were checking something off his mental list. He gave a short nod before continuing. “Rule three, the mission time frame is completely dependent on the health of the Professor. The mission is not complete until his health is completely recovered, or, well, until it’s no longer necessary.”
Nausea swam through Sage’s belly at his hesitation. Unwilling to acknowledge it, she tilted her head to the side, focusing instead on the way his shirt emphasized his biceps. Tight, hard round muscles that made her mouth water. That, she decided, was a much more enticing focal point.
“That means we’re both fully committed, Sage,” he said, his tone making it clear he didn’t think she was hearing him. Since he might have already recited the Gettysburg Address for all she knew, he had a good point.
“Fine, yes,” she agreed quickly. “We’re fully committed.”
“This might not be accomplished in one leave, or this month. Or even this year. I have to go back on duty, and you’re going to be, well, wherever you’re going to be.”
“Here,” she decided then and there. “I’m here until my dad is well again.”
“All the more reason to make sure you’re following rule three then.”
“Fully committed?”
“That means you’re pretending you’re engaged.” He paused, giving her an arch look. She was pretty sure she knew where he was going, but decided it would be more fun to make him spell it out. So she offered a blank look of confusion, adding a flutter of her lashes for good measure.
“I know this is going to be hard for you, but unless you can handle it, we might as well find an alternative now.”
Not so amused any longer, she ceased fluttering.
“Handle...what?” Hard and handling were giving her a lot of ideas.
“You have to be able to commit to keeping to the spirit of this engagement for the duration. That means no sex. You can’t keep bouncing from guy to guy.”
Bouncing? Sage was tempted to inform him that she was going on eight months with no sex and managing fine. But that wasn’t the kind of thing a girl wanted to admit to a guy who was currently making her wonder how many licks of his tongue it would take to get her off.
At least, not until they’d spent a little more time together, and she’d figured out what it was about Aiden that was suddenly making her hot and crazy.
“I promise, any sex I have will be within the accepted confines of our engagement,” she swore, one hand in the air.
“That’d be rule four,” he said quickly. “No sex.”
“I just said I wasn’t going to cheat on you. Even if the cheating was really fake.”
“I mean no sex between us.”
Sage was sure her jaw hit her chest so hard it bounced back.
“I beg your pardon?” He was kidding, wasn’t he?
Except he didn’t look like he was kidding. He had that serious, man-in-charge, military face on again.
“Sage, as tempting as it might be to get carried away by the pretense, we aren’t actually engaged. So no sex.” He said it so adamantly she had to wonder which one of them he was bossing around. “And no situations that might lead to sex. No scenarios that might give each other an idea to create a situation that might lead to sex.”
That’s it. She’d had enough.
He was only doing this for her father.
She got that.
He didn’t see her as marriage material, because wanting something didn’t mean you should have it. Whatever that meant.
Fine.
But if he th
ought he got to call the shots when it came to her and sex, he was sadly out of his mind.
Because Sage Taylor had a policy against letting any man tell her how, where or when she’d enjoy sexual pleasures.
Aiden had just offered up a tidy lesson on the merits of mission planning and strategy.
Now it was his turn to learn a thing or two.
Call it her way of saying thank-you.
Not sure what she was going to do, only knowing she was going to make damned sure they both enjoyed it, Sage slowly lowered her feet to the floor.
The move sent her skirt floating, sliding along her bare limbs like liquid. Aiden’s hazel eyes followed the fabric, settling for a long second on her bare toes before he yanked his gaze back to meet hers.
Sage smiled.
A slow, seductive smile.
Then in a sinuous move she’d learned from the belly dancers in Persia, she got to her feet, her fingers skimming her hips, up her waist before she teased them along the sides of her breasts and up to her throat.
Wetting her lips, she gave a deep sigh. Aiden’s gaze dropped to her breasts and his own lips tightened. If the fit of his jeans were anything to go by, something else was getting tight, too. He didn’t look too happy about that. But Sage’s goal was horny, not happy.
She stepped closer.
From the wild look in his eyes, she figured it was a credit to his SEAL training that he didn’t step back. Because he clearly didn’t want her body this tight against his. Or, he didn’t want to want her this close.
“You go ahead and set those rules,” she told him quietly, tapping one finger against his chest, then against his chin.
“You saying you won’t follow them?”
“Rules one through three? I’m one-hundred percent committed.”
He closed his eyes for just a second, then gave her an arch look.
“And rule four?”
“Babe, enforcing that one is all on you.” She gave one last tap, this one on the tempting fullness of his lower lip. Then, for good measure, she leaned close and brushed her own lips over that same spot before giving him a wide smile. “Good luck with that.”