Scandalous-nook (4 page)

You’re not doing this for his family and you know it.

She lifted her hand to cup his jaw, feeling the scrape of stubble along her palm.
“I’m in, Boris.” The momentary confusion in his expression made her laugh. “Boris
and Natasha? Rocky and Bullwinkle?”

When he didn’t respond, she huffed in frustration. “Stephen, were you born in a suit?”

“You know I wasn’t.”

“I get it. Cartoons weren’t cool enough for your bad-boy image.”

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Some of us weren’t lucky enough to spend our formative
years watching children’s shows and experimenting with our sexuality.”

Tasha was tempted to stick out her tongue, but then Stephen leaned into her hand subtly,
as if he couldn’t help himself, his deep blue eyes focusing on her lips again. Damn
the man.

“Thank you for saying yes. I’ll owe you one.”

“A senator in my pocket, just what I always wanted.”

His smile was subtle. “Brady will take you home to pack. Don’t forget your bathing
suit and something appropriate for a formal dinner, in case Burke decides to have
one. I’ve got a few calls to make and then we’ll discuss the rest of the details tonight.”

Stephen moved away from her chair and her touch and, just like that, she was dismissed.
Too confused and off balance to take offense, she rose on legs that were still weak
and headed for the door.

“Natasha?”

She paused with her hand on the doorknob and looked over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“It goes without saying that this is just between us.”

“Obviously not, since you keep saying it.”

He shook his head. “I’m repeating myself so you know that
between us
doesn’t include Jeremy Porter.”

Damn it. What fun was it to play spy for the government at a kinky house party if
you couldn’t tell your best friend about it?

She sighed in disgust. “Fine. It’s not like he’d believe me anyway, right? I mean,
this is
you
we’re talking about. Now if it were Owen—”

“Goodbye, Natasha.” He opened his laptop and stared at it as if she’d ceased to exist.

An image of him tied naked to a bed sprang to mind and she smiled as she opened the
door. “Don’t worry, Senator—I can keep this secret.”

“You sound like an old woman, Jeremy. Is this what monogamy is doing to you? Making
you a prude? I don’t have to give you references to go away with a strange man for
a week of kinky, sweaty sex at an undisclosed location.”

Tasha winked at Brady Finn, who was listening to her end of the phone call as he pulled
up in front of Stephen’s brownstone. He shook his head, but his eyes were sparkling
with amusement.

Jeremy didn’t find it as funny. “You’re telling me you just met a guy and you’re going
away with him for a
week.
Am I supposed to shrug it off? What if something happened? I’ve heard you and Owen
lecture on responsible play and safety before. At least give me his phone number or
text a picture of his driver’s license in case of an emergency.”

Tasha groaned. Jeremy was genuinely worried and she hated not being able to tell him
the truth. He’d found out about her occasional hookups with Stephen the same day she’d
learned about his romance with Owen. When the shock wore off, she and Jeremy had promised
to never keep things from each other again.

She probably shouldn’t have called, but she needed someone to be a contact for her
employees. She didn’t trust anyone else. And she desperately wanted to tell him something,
despite Stephen’s warning. A half-truth couldn’t possibly hurt the investigation,
could it?

She glanced away from Brady and lowered her voice. “This isn’t any different than
that time in college. I survived that, right?”

Tasha could practically hear the gears turning in his head through the silence on
the line.

“Oh.” More silence, then a sharp intake of breath. “
Oh
.”

She smiled. “Exactly. So don’t worry. And don’t let Adrian and Sue burn down my shop.
Oh, and I know you’re on deadline, so don’t do anything to my favorite little demon
that I’ll make you regret. Complete those missions successfully and I’ll give you
every sordid detail next weekend. We’ll order from that Indian place you love and
dish the dirt.”

“And don’t tell Owen. That’s what you’re really saying isn’t it? Don’t tell Owen that
you’re spending the entire week having a secret tryst with his older brother, the
senator. Don’t tell Owen, even though the last time he found out I’d kept something
from him, I couldn’t sit down or lean back comfortably for three days.”

“And you loved it,” she reminded him. “Don’t deny it, honey, I know you too well.”

“And
I
know
you
.” Jeremy sighed into the phone. “Are you sure about this, Tasha? Whatever it is between
you two hasn’t exactly been resolved, and Stephen is as bad as Owen when it comes
to communicating his feelings. Worse, if you listen to Seamus. Hasn’t he proven it,
the way he’s avoided you since Scottgate?”

Tasha’s lips twitched at the name he’d chosen for the day their secrets were revealed.
“I can handle it.”

“I don’t want you setting yourself up to get hurt.”

“I won’t. I can handle it.”

She glanced over at Brady, but he’d gotten out and was already carrying her bags into
Stephen’s house. She exhaled wistfully at the snug fit of his jeans. The muscular
man with his short-sleeved black shirt and tightly cropped dark auburn hair had a
look about him.
That
look. In his jawline. Around his eyes. Not to mention his almost-as-squeezable-as-Stephen’s
ass.

There were differences, of course. His lips were fuller and his nose had been broken
at least once, but even if they’d never met before and a picture of him in uniform
wasn’t hanging proudly in the pub, she would have known he was a Finn as soon as he
showed up on her doorstep this morning.

That family had an unfair advantage in the genetics department. She had yet to meet
a single member of the brood who didn’t look as though they’d been created from someone’s
airbrushed wet dream. Lord save her from the blue-eyed Irish devils who seemed to
have a natural immunity to body fat, mind-scrambling pheromones and extra helpings
of stubborn pride.

They were all too damned irresistible.

“Tasha? Did you hang up?”

Oh hell. “No, of course not. You’re sweet to worry about me, Jeremy. That heart of
yours is as sexy as the rest of your package. It almost hurts that you’re off the
market. Especially now. We might have just missed our opportunity to have the perfect
third.”

Jeremy snorted. “Fine, I get it, you don’t want to talk about your feelings. But calling
me to tell me you’re taking a sex holiday with the city’s most eligible bachelor doesn’t
scream deprivation to me. Don’t try to convince me you’re suffering.”

“Inside, honey. The pain is buried deep inside…where you’ll never find it again because
you have a boyfriend and you’re in love.”

She hung up to his laughter and got out of the car, following Brady’s imposing figure
into Stephen’s house. She’d turned down the invitation to his housewarming party,
but she’d been here once before for… Well, there was no better way to say booty call,
was there? She hadn’t had that much of a chance to look around then because she’d
come and gone before daylight.

It was a nice place. Cleaner than her crowded one-bedroom apartment. Warm but unmistakably
masculine and clearly professionally decorated. There was no clutter. No rings or
scratches on the coffee table, no wear in the carpets that were tastefully thrown
across the hardwood floors. The neutral pillows on the couch that could comfortably
sleep three seemed brand new. If there weren’t pictures on the mantel—his twin Seamus
surrounded by his laughing children, his parents’ anniversary party, Jeremy and Owen
smiling as they held a squirming bundle of happy puppy—this place could be a furnished
rental.

Did he actually live here? Did anyone?

She found Brady upstairs in the hallway, stalled indecisively with her bags.

“Just put them in one of the guest rooms,” she said helpfully. “My part in this act
doesn’t require a drawer in his dresser.”

It would be too intimate.

He obediently headed to the left and brought her to the guest room closest to the
master suite. Tasha studied the quaint wrought iron headboard and pale lavender bedspread
with reluctant approval. This would do.

Brady set her bags down and rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly. “I should go
check out the other rooms.”

“Stay and talk to me,” she insisted. “Just for a minute.”

Brady hesitated. “For a minute,” he agreed, looking around the bedroom with a frown.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a heads up on the way to the office,” he said, not
for the first time since they’d left Stephen’s building. “It’s a hell of a request
to spring on a family friend.”

“I told you it’s fine.” Tasha sat on the bed and bounced once, sending him a wicked
grin. “Lucky for the senator, I’m that kind of friend.”

“So I’m gathering.” He watched her closely. “I always thought you and Jeremy were
together.”

Tasha shrugged. “You weren’t entirely wrong. We got together now and then, but we’re
just friends. I’m a strong believer in the buddy system.”

Brady’s eyes widened a bit at that. “And you and Stephen?”

“Also buddies. Now and then.” He stared at her until she rolled her eyes. “My sex
life is complicated. Let’s just say I’m a progressive, liberated woman with some unresolved
commitment issues and leave it at that.”

Brady chuckled and she leaned back on her elbows, enjoying the comfortable mattress
and determined to change the course of the conversation. “So when did you start working
for the man?”

“The military?”

“Not
the
man. This man—Senator Finn, defender of the innocent, savior of puppies and the guy
angling to be the Irish James Bond.”

His breath came out in a short, sharp puff that sounded like laughter. “About a month.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Rave review. But you have to say that—you work for him. I hope he’s paying you what
you’re worth. When I volunteered, all I got was a handful of paper cuts and a stale
bagel.”

“Pay’s good.” A shadow of a smile still lingered on his lips as he studied the painting
on the wall above her head. At least he looked more approachable now. When he’d come
to pick her up he’d been stone-faced and stiff. And huge. He had to be six-foot-five,
possibly the tallest Finn on record, and every inch of him was bulging with muscle.
She’d felt like saluting and worried that she’d have to drop and give him twenty without
the benefit of caffeine.

He’d changed a
lot
in the last few years.

Tasha’s eyes narrowed. “I could have sworn you used to be the talkative cousin. Or
was that your brother Wyatt?”

Steely blue eyes lowered to hers. “Becoming a civilian again hasn’t been the easiest
transition. I’m still rusty at one or two things. Casual conversation, for example.”

“Lucky for you I’m the queen of awkward silences,” she offered lightly, sensing his
discomfort. “Making them or filling them. Practice those rusty skills on me, Brady
Finn. Tell me how you ended up working for Stephen. The long version, with complete
sentences, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Brady’s nod was sharp. “I suppose you could say I was looking for an
alternative employment opportunity. Expectations aside, I needed to find my own way.
When Stephen called me in and told me about his dilemma, I figured I could lend a
hand instead of going stir crazy, so I signed on temporarily as his body man.”

“And as quickly as that, a new nickname is born,” she quipped. “Hot Body Man.”

Expectations aside.
She knew what he was referring to. The Finn brothers
she’d
grown up around—Owen, Stephen and Seamus—were successful, relatively stable businessmen.
Owen had his own construction company, Stephen had been the district attorney for
a hot minute before running for political office and his twin Seamus had just officially
taken over the family pub from their father. Before that he’d been a handyman. Their
cousins on the other hand—Brady’s brothers—were cops and firemen. One was an EMT.
They were all adrenaline junkies with hero complexes and a possible uniform fetish.

She could understand why Brady, who’d spent four extended tours in a warzone in a
uniform of his own, might want to avoid that kind of lifestyle for a while. Politics
was cutthroat and demanding, but your life wasn’t always on the line. Other people’s
lives weren’t in immediate danger.

Unless a senator decided to do something reckless. Something that required a damn
bodyguard.

Brady grimaced at the nickname. “Let’s not repeat that to anyone.”

“We’ll see. Speaking of sex…”

“Were we?”

She nodded. “We were. Ninety percent of the time, civilians are either thinking about
it, talking about it, or doing it. They did a study.”

“It’s not just civilians,” Brady muttered, making her laugh.

“
Speaking of sex
, I saw the way Stephen’s assistant, a Mr. Calvin Grimes, was looking at you before
we left. I know for a fact he’s out. Are
you
?”

He tensed in momentary surprise, but didn’t pretend not to understand her question.
“Observant as well as liberated, aren’t you?”

“I am. I have exceptional instincts about carnal appetites and preferences for baked
goods. You look like a spiced apple pie kind of guy. Patriotic, with unexpectedly
zesty undertones.”

Brady dipped his chin, his grin restrained but genuine. “I’ve been out since high
school. To my family, at any rate. So is Rory, if you’re curious. I won’t go into
how retired chief of police Solomon Finn Sr. handled the news that two of his six
strapping Irish sons were gay. Let’s just say we were all surprised at how well Uncle
Shawn took Owen’s bombshell. Surprised and jealous. And for the record, I wouldn’t
turn down any type of pie.”