by Snow, Nicole
That’s when I remember what I’m wearing and blush. A skimpy pink two-piece, and now I don’t even have the water to help me obscure anything in front of Miller.
I wait so I’m the last one out, and as I take the towel she holds out to me, I ask her, “What happened to the rest of my swimsuits?”
She feigns confusion. “Aren’t they in the changing room?”
“Nope. This is the only one that was there.” I wrap the towel around me, snug beneath my arms, and tuck in an edge to keep it that way. Playing in the water helped, but my insides are still on fire, thinking about sex.
Hot sex. Wet sex. Sweaty sex. Angry sex. Bitey sex.
Sex, sex, sex with Miller Rush and every dirty, seething inch of him.
Mother shrugs. “Maybe they’re in the laundry. I had Gemma make sure everything was refreshed this morning, and she never misses anything. Hmm, what if your new friend hid them? Can’t blame a man for tilting the odds in his favor, can we now?”
“Tilting–Motherrrr.” I doubt that very much. “This isn’t a romance novel,” I hiss.
For all I know, she’s responsible for my amazing disappearing swimsuits.
“Never said it was, dear.” She lets out a low whistle. “But you know, he certainly is hero-worthy. The bad kind. If only I was a decade younger...”
She holds up her hand in a tiger claw, making a cringe-worthy rawr.
“Gross. You’re even not going there while I’m around!”
“I like this new side to you, Gwendolyn. Very territorial. It’s refreshing.” She grins and then speedwalks to catch up with Lauren and Shane, gushing over how well they swam before I can whine some more.
Much as I’d love to, I can’t interrupt this.
Miller slows down and waits for me to catch up next to him. “Lauren hasn’t spent that much time in the water in years. You worked a miracle with her.”
“I’m glad I was able to help her.”
“You’ve helped more than her today, I think,” he says.
There’s that look again. Blue-eyed burn and mystery and gratitude. And there goes my desire again.
I draw in a breath, trying for control, and focus on something else.
That’s easy enough once I pick up on what he means. Mother. “So what did she want to chat about?”
“Tell you later. After lunch.”
Goosebumps rise, peppering my arms. His entire expression changes as soon as it’s out of my mouth. His eyes have dulled.
“Miller! What did she say? What’s she up to? I’m dying here.” A thousand crazy scenarios race through my mind.
One of them even includes her having a magic elixir to make herself a decade younger.
Damn. I really don’t need the image that conjures up in my mind.
I already have enough illegal, very wrong brain-fodder with me and him locked together, alone in this pool, free to do whatever we–
“You were right,” he says quietly, breaking my trance. “Your ma could outsmart Holmes and Watson. But later, babe. Promise.”
My lungs tighten. What does he mean?
10
Get A Room (Miller)
The ribs are so tender, the meat falls off the bone and melts in my mouth.
The sauce is perfect too, sweet, yet spicy, a lot like Gwen herself. I’m trying to focus on all the nuances with the smorgasbord of dry rub and saucy meat she’s got laid out. Hard to make it happen when I’ve got something a hundred times more appetizing laid out in front of me.
That little pink bikini she’s wearing leaves nothing to the imagination. Nothing except how bad I want to take her in every position I can till my hip damn near snaps.
Walking out of the changing room, seeing her guide Lauren around the pool, took my breath away for a different reason. Yeah, I could get off on her eyes, her globe tits, her ass, her fiery hair, but this attraction isn’t all raw, animal, and physical as much as I wish it was.
Gwen hits me somewhere I don’t even want to go. In a matter of minutes she coaxed my little girl back into swimming.
It took me a long time to even get her back into the shallows again, and months more than that to convince her to hold on to me while I swam.
This woman has a way with the kids that’s foreign to me.
Their faces light up every time she looks at them, smiles at them, teaches them something new.
I know that feeling. There’s something about her, a glow that simply makes everything brighter and better. Inside and out.
She’s genuine. Nothing fake about her.
All in all, she’s one of those people that are too easy to like and too dangerous to love.
More reason to keep my guard up. Swimming lessons and swimsuits I’d love to tear right off her can’t change facts. There’s too damn much at stake.
Her mother knows it, no thanks to her P.I. buddy. May fully knows what her daughter’s involved in now. She even admitted to hiring J.T. to dig up intel on me.
But there was another reason she brought him on board today for a bigger role – the help I’m lacking, saving my sorry ass and the kids.
Accepting that is hard to swallow. But I have to and hope like hell J.T. is as good as him and May say. Neither of them said much about Manny Stork, except that he’s the best person in the state when it comes to fake IDs.
With Keith unreachable, J.T. seems like my only option. So for now, I’ve swallowed my pride, hoping like hell I haven’t made yet another mistake.
He and May swear I haven’t, but I’ll need proof before believing anything.
I didn’t reveal all my cards.
Just enough to warm up J.T.’s hound-dog senses. They were piqued, all right, and he said he’d be back in a few hours. I’ll know then if I’ve made a mistake or not and will go from there.
My heart clenches as I look around the table.
At the kids laughing, eating, enjoying life.
Shit, I really can’t afford more mistakes. Or more surprises like what Keith got himself into.
For their sake, I wish I’d never gotten involved in this, but when Keith told me what was in those coolers, and I saw it for myself...there was no other choice.
I couldn’t turn a blind eye to Mederva’s dirty laundry.
Sure, I’d seen plenty in Afghanistan. Gruesome, horrible things, but what I saw that night was an order of fucked up beyond any battlefield.
Pure nightmare fuel that has no place in this world.
My throat locks at the memories. I grab my glass of water, hoping it’ll settle my stomach so I can try to enjoy this delicious food.
“More ribs, Miller?” May asks, already reaching across the table.
Swallowing hard, I shake my head. “No, thanks, they were great, but I’ll burst if I overstuff on this grub.”
No lie. The food was immaculate with perfectly cooked spices and sweetness and more sides than I could count, but my appetite’s obliterated.
I wonder if I’ll ever be able to get through a good meal again without being haunted.
“You really have a chef and maids, May?” Shane asks. “Do they live here with you? Like in the movies?”
“Yes, they do, my boy,” May tells them. “They have their own private quarters, plenty of space and privacy to keep them cozy. A happy employee is a good one.”
“Wow! You must be so rich,” he replies.
“Shane.” I give my son a warning look.
May smiles at him, and then shifts her gaze to me. “The boy’s hardly wrong, Miller. I only hire the best, and I’m incredibly proud of it.”
I know she’s not just talking about housekeepers and her talented chef. She’s straight up referring to J.T. The guy has a resume that doesn’t quit.
After his time in Marine FORECON, he became a bodyguard for some of the most famous people in the States during the seventies, and then he’d studied martial arts in five different countries. He had proof of everything he said, except for the claim that his father died while driving a bootlegg
ing truck for Al Capone.
He couldn’t prove his reason for enlisting in the Marine Corps either. Supposedly he’d been caught stealing semis for a local mob boss in St. Louis when he was young, and a judge gave him a choice: join the service and shape up, or go to jail.
He didn’t need proof for me to believe it. A large number of men were given that choice in those years, and most chose the military route for the better.
“I wanna be rich like an author when I grow up,” Shane muses, blotting a smudge of barbecue off his chin. “This house, the lawn, the pool...May, you’ve got everything.”
She smiles her trademark grin at him, basking in the praise. But there’s something else.
Almost like a hint of sadness? Regret?
“Hey, um, if there’s still time...can we go swimming again?” Lauren asks shyly.
“Of course you can, dear.” May says. “You can paddle around to your heart’s content all afternoon.”
Both Shane and Lauren look at me, and I nod.
Truly, May’s house might be the safest place for them right now. And it could be a backup if my cover ever gets blown like Keith’s.
She has a top-notch security system. Despite being a famous author, the location here is probably a well-kept secret known by very few. Celebs aren’t idiots. They love their fans, but adore their privacy, and learn how to maintain a healthy balance.
That’s how I’ve heard May describe it.
People and personals. A balanced diet, she says.
I want to remind her there’s not a security strategy in existence that can’t be breached, but if it ever happens to her, I know I’m the most likely reason.
Same for Gwen. If her daughter gets hurt, I’m the asshole, even if I’m a victim of fate.
My mind traces the inevitable what-ifs.
If only we’d taken a different route right from the start. Then neither Keith and I, nor our families, would be in the situation we are now.
We had to know more, though. That’s why we tracked those coolers as they were packed in crates and shipped out to Galentron, another local bio-research company with a bad rap over their shady business deals. Like Mederva, they’re flush with illicit ties to major politicians.
Not only local yokels and state legislators, but national ones.
Keith and I realized fast that calling the FBI, the CIA, even the local police, was out of the question. When things are this corrupt, turning Mederva in would end with us looking like the ones caught with our hands in the cookie jar.
That’s why we both knew we had to leave before we could leak anything.
“You know, I’m in the mood for a good sit in the sun with an afternoon Mai Tai. I’ll keep an eye out while the kids swim,” May says with a yawn. “Gwen, show Miller where the hot tub is. The two of you can have a soak and let your food digest. Lord knows it does wonders for my acid levels.”
The wide-eyed glare Gingersnap shoots at her mother makes me pinch back a grin.
Maybe May’s a bit more accommodating than I think. I also love how it makes Gwen squirm, knowing what her ma might be up to.
I nod. “Sounds good. Thanks for giving us a chance to relax.”
I’m not going to bite, no matter how appealing the bait is, but I have nothing else to do while waiting for J.T. to return. Seeing Red’s perfect body wearing nothing but that bikini for a little longer could be dangerous, but I’ve been in real danger for weeks now.
Red tucks her towel tighter beneath her arms as she stands. I rise and follow her around the large screened-in porch that the maid used while serving us.
* * *
It’s a gorgeous property.
On the other side, there’s a large pergola with white curtains that hang all the way to the ground. We walk to the far side, where the curtains are pulled back, exposing the hot tub housed inside.
A bottle of beer and glass of wine are already sitting on the sides of the tub.
Okay. So this matchmaker shit might be a little twisted. But I’m not complaining, and neither is my raging hard-on if it gets me alone with this woman.
“Your ma really takes this hostess gig to the moon, doesn’t she?” I ask, dropping my towel and sliding into the tub before she can see how hard I am.
“Among other things.” Gwen sighs, rolling her eyes.
I lower myself into the swirling hot water and let out an exaggerated groan. It feels damn good, but more than that, I’m waiting for her to drop that towel.
I haven’t been this attracted to a chick in eons.
Even though I know I won’t act on it, not fully, I’m enjoying the anticipation, the desire, the sense that anything could happen. It’s also the distraction we need from worrying about Mederva and hitmen and whether or not we’ll eventually crack under the stress of all this bull.
Slowly, she leans against the edge and drags one hand through the warm water.
“Aren’t you getting in?” I ask.
“Dunno.”
I cock my head. “Why not? Water’s fine.”
“Because I know what Mother’s playing at. It’s so embarrassing. I’m just surprised she went from doing everything she could to shoo boys away when I was younger, to playing matchmaker like this is some warped Bachelor episode.”
I laugh. “Babe, I get it.”
She frowns, studying me. “Then...why are you just going along with it? Isn’t it kinda humiliating?”
“Because, despite what everyone thinks, we’re adults. Fully capable of making our own decisions. Long as we’ve got our wits, you’d better believe I’m going to take a few minutes to enjoy the quiet, the drink, the hot tub, and hopefully, your company.”
Her frown deepens, but she tilts her head.
I take a long pull off my beer. Another nice, cold Belgian brew. “How ’bout a story?”
“Story?” she blinks. “You mean–”
“Nah. Not more cloak and dagger shit. I’m talking about something lighter. So you can hear about the man I was before I got mixed up in bad vibes.”
Slowly, she nods, coming closer and leaning on the edge of the tub.
“When I was in Afghanistan, twelve or so years ago, a decoy went out and got hit on a supply run. There was an abandoned truck full of contraband. Something that’d gotten caught in an ambush and had to be left behind a few weeks before. Smokes, snacks, socks.” I shake my head, remembering how priceless new socks were to guys spending their days in remote arid deserts with assholes shooting at them.
“So, the enemy was smart, used the old truck as bait. Anyone going near it would get ambushed. We all knew that. They had trip lines and some shitty Russian mines they’d salvaged circling that truck, with snipers taking shifts in the hills. It was a deathtrap, but we plotted anyway, hoping to get to it. Every idea we came up with had its pitfalls, but our hankering for a smoke, a piece of beef jerky, clean socks was so strong, we couldn’t let it go.”
She climbs up on the edge of the tub a few feet away, engrossed now. “So what’d you do?”
I take another swallow of beer and set the bottle down. “Plotted some more at first.”
Leaning closer, fully interested, the tucked edge of her towel slips. “And?”
“Keith and I stayed up half the night, coming up with a strategy that wouldn’t fail.”
She doesn’t notice how the towel crumples, pooling around her waist.
Her firm, full breasts fill the triangles of material completely. Even her nipples are hardly covered.
I get a hint of darker skin that circles the little nubs pushing against the pink fabric.
Goddamn.
The idea of licking her tits, flicking my tongue against each nipple one at a time, makes my cock diamond. Bet she gets wetter than the pool with a man taking it nice and slow, gradually igniting her.
Can’t say the same for myself.
I’d damn near explode to see my dick in her mouth, coming my brains out at that delicate red hair haloing every inch of me. I’m not small.
For a second, I have a flash of it, and wonder how far she’d get down my shaft before she–
“Well, what was the plan?” she asks, giving me a playful little shove.
“I’m getting there,” I growl.
Hardly sure if I’m talking about the story.
I shift in place, giving my dick a tad more breathing room in my trunks. I’m playing with fire, yeah, but so what? It feels too good to stop.
Being a single dad hasn’t given me much time for women, and the shit going on the last few months has completely overridden everything else.
Glancing up as I throb, the sun shines down between the wooden slats overhead, helping me remember my place. “When the sun comes up over there, it’s so bright against the sand and rock, you see things that aren’t there.”
“Mirages?”
I nod. “And insight. Almost like visions.”
Her mouth forms an O. She’s equal parts enthralled and enthralling. I spread my legs.
If she looks into the water, she’s sure to see the tent in my trunks.
A devilish part of me likes that idea. Reaching over, I pick up the glass of wine and hold it out to her, knowing she’ll have to slip into the water to get it.
“So was that the magic bullet then? Insight?”
I’m shaking my head. “Yeah, but it wasn’t just the landscape. It was thirst. When you’re rationing your water and instant coffee, you start to get real thirsty for anything better. Some of the guys swore up and down there’d be a few bottles of Jack in the truck, too.”
Pushing the towel away, it falls over the edge and onto the ground. I hold out the glass and she takes it.
Fuck.
The skimpy bikini bottom gives me a glimpse of her pussy’s outline before she lowers herself into the water, sitting less than a foot away.
She takes a sip of wine before repeating, “Desperate times and desperate measures. Am I right?”
My hands physically ache to touch her, to stop these games and grab her, pull her close, feel the silkiness of her skin. So much for control.
It takes me a little while to get past that and remember what we’d been discussing.