No Strings Attached

by Susan Andersen - No Strings Attached

  “Dammit, Tash, c’mon!” Then he shook his head. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” he said in a more reasonable tone. “Yelling at you probably isn’t the way to go about putting you in the mood.” He hooked a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her down for a kiss. “I’m sorry,” he said again when he let her up for air. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and I’m losing my grip. Slide your legs around here.” He helped her straighten them out from where they’d been bent under her and tugged them around his hips. “Yeah, like that. That puts these beauties in the perfect place.” And bending his head, he lavished attention on her nipples.

  He was almost immediately rewarded; her breath began to hitch, and she wiggled atop him. “Deeper. Please. I need you deeper.”

  That was the downside to this position; it didn’t push him as deeply into her as some other ones would. But he tried his best.

  Then she leaned back and braced her hands on the spread behind her. The action popped her nipple from his mouth but it made their sexes fuse.

  “Oh, God, that’s it,” she panted as she ground against him. “That’s it, that’s-it-that’s-it.”

  Yes! Thank you, Jesus. He was holding his shit together with everything he had, but feared it wasn’t going to be enough. Hearing her firmly back with the program, however, gave him hope, and delving with his finger and thumb, he pinched her clitoris and gave it a gentle roll.

  And felt his mouth pull back in a feral grin when it blew her right over the cliff. Her inner muscles went berserk around his cock.

  And that was all she wrote. Letting go of his rigid control, he hauled her tighter to him and thrust hard upward, driving him deep. And he finally came.

  And came.

  And came.

  Until he slumped onto his back, pulling Tasha down atop him. Wrapping her in his arms as she rearranged her legs and made herself comfortable on him, he felt her heartbeat begin to slow in concert with his own. And something deep inside of him seemed to shift.

  He tried to tell himself that this was just sex like it had been with any number of other women. But it wouldn’t gel in his mind. As he buried his nose in Tasha’s fragrant hair and stroked his hands down her long body, he had a sudden uneasy feeling. He’d like to think he was wrong about this.

  But he very much feared she’d just rocked his world.

  Irreparably.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  LUC WOKE UP the next morning to find himself wrapped around Tasha. She was warm and soft, and recalling the feelings that he’d fallen asleep with last night, he searched inside himself, expecting to be squarely back to his usual lone-wolf love-’em-and-get-back-to-work self.

  That didn’t happen.

  Of course, he’d also expected to wake up alone as he always did—and things hadn’t worked out on that front, either. Usually he was out the door after the sex as soon as he could manage without bruising any feelings. Or in cases like this, where the woman came to his place—

  Okay, there hadn’t actually been a case like this, not since he’d joined the DEA out of college. But if there had been, he fully expected he would have gently eased any other woman on her way long before dawn.

  Instead, he was snugged up, spoon-style, behind his softly scented long, tall redhead. Her very nice butt was firmly nestled against his morning hard-on as she lay wrapped in his arms, and it felt right to have her there. He couldn’t fool himself; his world was every bit as rocked by her as it had been last night. He actually felt...happy.

  That made him nervous.

  Because this was not like him. Why wasn’t he his usual self, itching to get back to the seamy, electrifying living-by-his-wits world of cartel busting? God knew the minute an agent committed to a woman, he could kiss all that goodbye. It was no life for a family man.

  But there was just something about Tasha. He’d felt it seven years ago, and he felt it now. She possessed this weird power to—

  “Buyer’s remorse?” Her voice was morning rough, and she raised a hand to rub at her eyes. Then she tunneled her fingers into a wide swath of curls that had fallen forward and flipped it back. “I smell circuits frying.”

  “No,” he said. A little panicky, maybe. But otherwise surprisingly good. He brushed her hair off her shoulder and, pushing up onto one elbow, bent his head to kiss her neck. “Thinking too hard, maybe. But no remorse.”

  And he rolled her onto her back, the better to demonstrate just how happy he was to see her this morning.

  * * *

  TASHA HAD BEEN gone a good two hours before he remembered the incident report she’d brought over last night. He went looking for it, but didn’t find it right away. Then he spotted a corner of the manila envelope peeking out from beneath one of the wicker chairs.

  Christ. He didn’t even remember dropping it. Yet not only had he patently done so, from the envelope’s placement it looked as if he’d winged the damn thing with some force before going at Tash against the door.

  His mouth ticked up for a second as he got sidetracked by the vision that memory evoked. Then, giving his head a sharp shake to get it back in the game, he ripped open the envelope and plopped down on the couch to read.

  He snapped upright a few minutes later. “Son of a bitch!” Hauling his cell phone out of his pocket, he punched in a number.

  His call was picked up on the second ring. “Special Agent Paulson’s office.”

  “Jackie,” he barked at his SAC’s personal admin. “It’s Luc Bradshaw. Put me through to Paulson.”

  “I’m sorry, Agent Bradshaw,” she said, sounding genuinely regretful. But her tone was firm when she added, “He’s still on vacation.”

  “Then give me his number. This can’t wait.”

  “Again I apologize. But I can’t do that, either.”

  He swore creatively. Then he realized who he was talking to. “I’m sorry, Jackie. I don’t mean to take my frustration out on you.” Snapping and snarling might be his first inclination, but it wasn’t likely to get him anywhere. He and Jackie had flirted harmlessly the few times he’d been in his SAC’s office, however, so he made his voice go silky when he said, “I received the report you sent me, darlin’. But when I read it, it said that on the night in question, SAC Paulson had knowledge that the Bahamian police arrested Ta—that is, Ms. Riordan.”

  “I can’t speak to that, sir.”

  Sir? Except for maybe the first day they’d met, he couldn’t recall another time that she’d ever called him sir. And Jackie was linked in to damn near everything that went through Paulson’s office—what she didn’t know simply wasn’t worth knowing. He dropped all pretense of friendliness. “Can’t? Or won’t?”

  She hesitated, then said regretfully, “Won’t.”

  “Fuck. It’s true, then. Paulson let Tasha languish in jail for something she hadn’t done, then deliberately lied to me about it.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “Yeah. Me, too,” he said, cutting her off. Dropping all signs of friendliness, he added with icy crispness, “I know you know how to get hold of him. Tell him I expect a call ASAP.”

  He thumbed the End button and blew out a frustrated breath as he let the phone fall onto the cushion next to his hip. Digging his elbows into his knees, he dropped his head into his hands.

  “Fuck.” It had all been in the report he’d read, right there in black and white. But he hadn’t wanted to believe it. Dammit, he’d dropped everything that last night with Tasha in the Bahamas—had been yanked away from his only personal time in over a year. And worse, from the only woman to grab his undivided attention in, well, ever—because Paulson had demanded he come in. He’d done that...and the guy had lied to his face.

  Looking back, he realized it hadn’t been the first time. Well, maybe not the lying so much, although now that that door had been opened, who the hell knew, really? But he’d lost track of the number of incidences where Paulson had insisted he was needed on a job that only he could do. It had made a serious dent in his p
ersonal time, including the big one—all the irreplaceable time he’d missed with his dad before he’d died.

  Suddenly his every assignment was suspect. His SAC had damn well better get back to him, and soon, if he expected Luc to continue working for him.

  Because, he was this close to throwing in the towel.

  * * *

  “DON’T EVEN TRY to kid a kidder, Riordan,” Jenny advised flatly the minute the waitress who’d interrupted Tasha’s abbreviated recap of her time with Luc the other night walked away. “You’re not going to make me believe it’s only sex.”

  “I don’t see why not,” Tash disagreed, picking up her beer. “Since that’s precisely what it is.” She shoved down the little voice in her head that murmured, Liar, liar!

  Clearly Jenny could read her mind. She shot her a glance that all but shouted bullshit and said dryly, “Don’t look now, but your pants are on fire.” She slapped her hands down on the tabletop, making Tasha jump. “But on the off chance I misunderstood, let me make sure I’ve got this straight. You had head-banging sex with the only guy who’s ever really and truly floated your boat. Sex that you refuse to give details about but which you will admit blew you away. Yet you think it’s just because you have good chemistry with the man? Emotions don’t enter the equation?”

  “Well, of course they do.” Maybe too much, she thought privately, but brushed the notion aside. “I like Luc, obviously, or I wouldn’t be having sex with him at all.” She reached across the table to touch her best friend’s fingertips with her own. “But you’ve known me since we were teens, Jen—you know my thoughts on romantic love.”

  Jenny pulled her hand back and wrapped it around her beer mug. “And my and Harper’s experiences these past few months haven’t changed that one iota? Because—what?—you think we’re just fooling ourselves? Or maybe you fancy that you know better than we do how we feel?”

  Tasha hated the unaccustomed coolness in her best friend’s voice. But she wouldn’t be coerced into saying something she wasn’t ready to say, just because Jenny wanted her to. “Think you can dial back that melodrama a tad? I’m not blind, Jenny. I can see that this True Love thing is working for you and Harper. That doesn’t mean it’s in the cards for me. Even if I wanted to see this whatever-I-have with Luc as some grand, enduring love, I’m a Riordan woman. Just look at my mom, for God’s sake—do you remember her ever meeting a new man that she didn’t immediately label as the love of her life?”

  “Nope, can’t say that I do. And it really is a damn shame that you, of all people, are so hell-bent on tromping along in her footsteps. You really need to take a big step back from all that lusting after love you insist on doing. Not to mention quit hooking up with loser after loser. It’s not healthy.”

  “Huh?” She simply stared at her friend, because Jenny might as well have been speaking Mandarin. “What the hell are you babbling about? I’ve never—”

  “No, you never have,” Jenny agreed flatly. “That’s your mama’s shtick. Your. Mama’s, Tash. Not yours. And you might want to consider that before you throw away what just might be a good thing.”

  She blinked. Having to look at it from that angle radically diverged from her long-established way of thinking. She’d always bent over backward to stay as far away from her mom’s M.O. as possible. But maybe Jenny had a point. Maybe making poor choices wasn’t what she had to fear. Perhaps the true concern in the back of her mind was more that if she did give her heart she would do so with no filter. That she’d honor no boundaries.

  “All right.” She gave Jenny a terse nod. “I’ll think about that.” Meeting her friend’s eyes, she promised, “Really think about it. I’ll even go so far as to admit that I may have more feelings for Luc than are safe.” Enough that she’d been trying desperately to hold some small part of herself aloof ever since they’d made love.

  “Safe?” Jenny repeated. “That’s an odd word to use.”

  “You think so? Because say that I do go crazy here and fall in love, which appears to be your goal for me. What then, Jenny? Where do you see my happily ever after coming from? You do understand that Luc is an undercover agent for the DEA, right?”

  Jenny nodded.

  “That means that, sooner rather than later, he’s going to leave, and I won’t know where he is or how much danger he’s in or even how long he’ll be gone—never mind if he’s ever coming back.”

  Good God, girl, shut up, shut up, shut up. Yet she couldn’t seem to. Clearly she’d thought about this way more than she’d realized and now had a burning need to get it off her chest. “I’m not willing to put my heart on the line under those conditions. You know me, Jen—there’s no way in hell I’d ever be able to live with that sort of uncertainty.” She exhaled a mournful sigh. “So just let me enjoy this for what it is while it lasts.” She met Jenny’s pretty brown-eyed gaze levelly. “Can you do that for me, please?”

  To her mortification, tears rose in her own eyes. Angrily, she knuckled them away.

  “Oh, crap, Tash.” Jenny reached across the table and gripped her free hand. “I’m sorry. I have no business trying to run your love life. And you’re right. His job is an obstacle. A huge one, and I didn’t really stop to consider it. I just thought, ‘Yes! Big step up from drug dealer,’ and that was as far as I got.”

  Before she could respond—not that she had any idea what she might say—a male voice called from a short distance away, “Hey, look who’s here.” Glancing out into the room, Tasha saw all three Bradshaw brothers weaving through the tables. They were still a couple of yards away but were clearly headed toward her and Jenny’s booth.

  She shot them a hopefully carefree smile, then looked across the table at Jenny, who shrugged at her as she turned back from craning partway around in her seat, clearly unable to see with the high back of the booth blocking the men’s approach.

  “The Bradshaw boys,” she murmured and wiggled her fingers at her face. “Am I okay?”

  “Yes. You only have a little smidge of mascara here.” Jenny touched a spot beneath her own eye.

  Tasha swiped the corresponding place beneath hers, then raised her eyebrows inquiringly.

  “Got it.” Jenny turned to watch the men as they came within her line of sight. And her face lit up. “Jake!” She scrambled out of the booth and threw herself into his arms. “Hey, I didn’t expect you home until Saturday night.”

  “I know. But I was, as always, a very efficient boy.” He grinned, then gave her a thorough kiss. When he came up for air, he hooked a slippery strand of dark hair behind her ear. “I called the inn to let you know I was home, and Abby told me you were here.”

  “So—what?—your first thought was to call your brothers for a get-together?” Her slender eyebrows furrowed over her nose. “You obviously didn’t pine for me during your stay in the Ozarks.”

  “Much as I’d love to leave Jake twisting in the wind,” Max said before his brother could respond, “it was actually more a matter of the Bradshaw Brothers’ magic timing. Luc hailed me from his balcony when I was over on Harbor Street contemplating taking a break before heading back to my desk to plow through a mile-high stack of paperwork. Then your boy here damn near ran us down turning into the parking lot.” He shrugged. “Clearly we’re related, since talent this great isn’t assigned to just anyone.”

  “Yeah,” Luc agreed. “Great minds think alike.” Then he met Tasha’s gaze. “Hey,” he said softly.

  Her heart, which had begun to bang against the wall of her chest at the sight of him, steadied under the warm look in those almost-black eyes. It was kind of amazing how the man could be the most exciting thing in her life, yet at the same time, the most soothing.

  Coming to terms with the two disparate traits was a bit unnerving, and after a quick “Hi, yourself,” she tore her gaze away with more effort than she cared to admit and turned her attention back to Max. “Why not just take your paperwork home?”

  “No point. Harper’s putting in extra time at the
Village this evening, so I thought I’d grab a burger here and catch up on my backlogged paperwork while the catchin’ is good. Move over,” he ordered.

  She did, and he dropped down onto the seat beside her.

  * * *

  WELL, SHIT. LUC DEBATED for about three seconds the odds of hauling his larger brother out of the booth so he could take Max’s place next to Tasha. Then he shrugged and slid onto the bench across from her.

  And cheered right up when she gave him a little one-sided smile and a barely-there shrug of her own. What the hell. The view from over here couldn’t be beat. Plus, he’d be the one to walk her home anyhow, not Max. His smile grew.

  There were definite advantages to living next door to the woman you loved.

  Whoa. For several seconds, every muscle in his body went tight. Who said anything about love? Sure, she was smart and funny and a good friend to those she cared about, but it wasn’t like she’d shown him a lot of that since he’d come to Razor Bay.

  But Tasha had pulled at him from the moment he’d met her on that dawn-lit beach all those years ago. It was as if everything was brighter, more sharply focused with her around. She was more fascinating than any other woman he’d ever known—outspoken and genuine in a way that grabbed him by the throat. From the moment he’d first met her he’d felt as if he’d known her forever.

  But that didn’t necessarily equate to love.

  He made himself relax. This wasn’t the time or the place to carry on an internal Did he or Didn’t he. Sliding over to make room for Jenny and Jake on the bench, he gave thanks for the next several minutes that were spent deciding on then ordering their drinks and a burger for Max.

  “I think I’ll have one of those, too,” Tasha said. “Sometimes it feels as though the only thing I ever eat anymore is my own food.”

  As if a big gong had gone off in his head, Luc straightened in his seat. “How about I take you to dinner in Silverdale one of these nights? Get you away from the pizzeria entirely.” He’d made love to her in two countries, for crissake, but he’d never taken her on a date? For a guy who was reputed to be reasonably charming, he’d sure shown her damn little of that side.