Wicked Secrets (9 page)

The real estate agent pulled herself together and tapped up the path toward Mia, smile in place and hand extended.

“I’m Mary Jane Barker. M.J.” She eyed Tag’s butt again, seemingly not put off by the loud cursing emanating from under the porch. The last kitten was apparently posing a challenge. Whatever. If Tag could handle a South Pacific tsunami, he could certainly take charge of one small feline.

M.J. sported a chic little pantsuit number and espadrilles. She’d come prepared for business, too, with an enormous tote bag and an iPad. While Tag chased the last kitten, Mia explained her interest in the place. Casual-like, of course.

The agent was all uh-huh-uh-huh, but clearly distracted while she fished in the bottomless bag for a flyer. Mia eyeballed the numbers on the four-color ad while the Realtor finished ogling Tag, who was now backing out, an orange-and-white kitten cupped against his broad chest. He’d had more than one close encounter with the dirt and leaves from the jasmine strangling the porch’s decorative trim. A particularly large leaf was stuck on his very fine butt.
Bonus.

“You look like you could use a hand.” The Realtor’s throaty purr had Mia biting her tongue. Really? She wanted to buy a house and all the agent could do was flirt with Tag? Oblivious to Mia, the other woman leaned in and brushed random bits of vegetation out of Tag’s hair as she worked up her nerve to go for the gold and remove the leaf from Tag’s butt.

Mia could see where this was going. The Realtor would manufacture a constant stream of endangered animals so she could call on Tag to come out and help her. She’d probably produce a rhinoceros or a ten-foot crocodile next. Tag’s apartment was already full up with rescues. Cats, dogs, the mangy rabbit and...her.

Apparently, however, Tag had defensive moves of his own. He took a step backward, bumping up against Mia, and her hormones revved in approval. He was big and male and...leafy.

“Honey,” he said, and she didn’t think he was discussing bee-based toast products. Large hands curled around her shoulders, and his mouth brushed her throat. Her nipples tightened immediately which was probably all too obvious to everyone, thanks to her sports bra. God, did he have any clue what he was doing to her...? The Realtor stared first at Tag and then switched her gaze to Mia. Yeah. That made two of them who were confused. Maybe Tag had hit his head under there.

“Are the two of you a couple?”

And just like that...she was getting ideas.

“He’s poaching on your preserve,” someone—an
old
someone from the sounds of the voice—yelled from the direction of the BMW.

* * *

T
HE
 
VOICE
 
BELLOWING
 
from the car was horribly familiar.
Shit.
Not only had Mia managed to call the one real estate agent on the island whom Tag would really like to avoid...but the Realtor had brought along her grandmother and Tag’s nemesis.

Ever since he’d rescued her from her fender bender with the ocean, Ellie Damiano had been determined to pair Tag with M.J.

Loudly
determined.

There was absolutely, positively nothing wrong with M.J. She was attractive, well-educated and employed. He’d bet she had a 401K and dental insurance and, if he’d been even remotely interested in settling down, he would have gone out with her. She wasn’t the kind of woman a man had casual sex with, though, and he wasn’t the kind of guy who settled down. In approximately six weeks, he’d be getting his ass shot at, and there was always a chance he wouldn’t be coming home. Wherever that was. So, for once in his dating life, he was going to do the right thing and steer clear of long-term women.

M.J., however, hadn’t received that particular memo. She was confident, smart and could manage logistics with the deftness of a four-star general.
She
thought Tag should expand his dating horizons and go out with her while he was on the island. She was apparently fine with the whole deployment thing, as well, although she’d also made it clear that she’d be working on changing his mind.

He should just say
yes
.

Have a couple of drinks.

Kiss the woman and test for chemistry.

Except...he kind of already knew the answer. M.J. was a stunning woman, but he didn’t click with her like he did with Mia. For some reason—and he really had a beef to pick with the universe about this one—all he had to do was be near her, and his body went up in flames. His imagination went crazy, imagining all the wicked possibilities of his tongue on her skin, her mouth, her...

Yeah.

He and Mia had chemistry.

He and M.J.? Not so much.

“Get in there and fight for your man,” Ellie bellowed from the car.

“Sorry.” M.J. made a face. “I brought Grandma Ellie. Her aide had the afternoon off and I can’t leave her by herself.”

No. She couldn’t. The last time she’d left her grandmother alone, Ellie Damiano had hot-wired the car and taken it to the store to stock up on picnic supplies for a romantic evening out with a beau. Tag still wasn’t sure whether or not the boyfriend was imaginary—and he did
not
want to know since said picnic supplies included a tube of flavored lube and a disposable bullet vibrator—but M.J.’s grandmother had driven the car off the road and into the ocean. Fortunately, the water hadn’t been deep, but she’d wrecked the undercarriage. Tag had waded in, calmed her down, carried her to shore...and been stuck with her ever since.

He really needed to choose his rescues more carefully.

Ellie rolled the BMW’s window all the way down. “I’m doing you a favor, boy. It’s a Robin Hood thing. You saved my life. Now I get to stick by your side until I’ve saved yours. M.J. downloaded it on Netflix for me so I could see.”

Moving to a technology-free community suddenly seemed a whole lot more attractive. Was it too late to become Amish?

“You don’t owe me anything, Mrs. Damiano.”

Let alone your granddaughter.
Please.

He looked over at M.J., who had the decency to look embarrassed. “I don’t suppose you have those child-safety lock things?”

M.J. shook her head and then smiled. “You buy this house and I’ll upgrade the car.”

M.J. was more like her grandmother than he’d realized.

Ellie leaned out the car window. Another few inches and he’d be looking at rescue number two. “She’s pretty. You’re pretty. I’ll have the best-looking grandkids on the island.”

There was no possible response, so he stayed silent.

“You take your time,” Ellie hollered back. “Check out the bedrooms. I’ll just be here taking a little nap and picking out baby names.”

Was Mia enjoying the show? He was pretty sure she was, because she wasn’t the object of crazy granny’s matchmaking schemes. But since she really deserved an explanation—if only because she’d managed to keep a straight face during all this—he gave her one. “I rescued Mrs. Damiano. Now she wants to pay me back.”

* * *

“I
N
 
FLESH
,”
MUTTERED
M.J.,
sounding disgruntled. Apparently, the other woman wasn’t a fan of the barter system after all. “Are you two dating? A girlfriend would certainly shut her up.”

Mia had no idea how to explain her relationship with Tag. Apparently, she didn’t need to, however, because Tag beat her to the punch.

“You bet,” he said, and then his mouth met her neck again in a move guaranteed to make her melt. Which was wrong. She didn’t
melt
. She was frozen and distant. Closed off. Whatever. Her ex had tossed plenty of adjectives her way when she’d returned, and some of them were even true. Letting people get too close was a mistake when you were playing in the sandbox. People died. They didn’t come back. On Monday, six of you sat down to argue hockey scores or compare fantasy teams and eat. On Tuesday, you could be five. “Mia and I are absolutely dating. In fact, we’re engaged. I’m completely off the market, and you can tell your grandmother so.”

Tag’s voice came out all low and husky. He also wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed. She had no idea why he’d just announced their engagement, but parts of him were clearly ready to skip straight to the honeymoon. She wriggled a little against the thick ridge pushing against her butt because he deserved to suffer, too.

“A little help here? Mrs. Damiano is a force of nature.” He muttered a rough plea against her ear. Then he
nipped
. The bright spark of pleasure was one good reason to humor him. Plus, having Tag at her mercy was a fantasy she particularly enjoyed.

“Baby,” she cooed, taking the Siamese from him. “I thought this was our little secret?”

Tag floundering had to be the cutest thing ever. Her big, gruff sailor was afraid of what she’d say next. So what the hell?
He
needed
her
help, and she was supposed to be practicing her new normal, right? She’d wanted a man and a family, a regular job and the mortgage and white picket fence to go with it.

She handed the kitten to the Realtor, stood up on tiptoe, flinging her arms around his neck and whispering, “You didn’t tell me this was in the job description.”

She’d had her way with him yesterday, but he’d handed her a second opportunity. Hooking a finger in his dog tags, she yanked him closer, feeling the silent laughter shake his chest. Laughter and Tag went together like sun and a day at the beach. He made her feel happy, made her want to smile.

He also made her hot as hell.

All good things.

His body hit hers with just a little extra oomph that had to be deliberate. And as his legs brushed hers, his front pressed right where she wanted him. He knew what he did to her. His dark eyes gleamed down at her, still laughing and right there in the moment with her.

“Bad boy,” she said throatily.

“Are you complaining?” He cradled her hips with his hands, his thumbs rubbing small circles that were part tickle, part pleasure. He hadn’t left an inch of space between them, which made it clear he shared her interest because she could feel every delicious inch of his erection. She wrapped his tags around her fingers, pulling his head down to hers. Oh, look, she had a Navy rescue swimmer on her own personal chain. How perfect was that? She slid her other arm up his and cupped the back of his neck.

His mouth hovered an inch above hers. “Is this where I kiss you to shut you up? Or to seal the deal?”

She grinned because his words sure didn’t sound like a complaint. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Choices.” She felt rather than saw his smile as his lips covered hers. He gave her a perfectly well-behaved public kiss—except for what their lower bodies were doing—but the kiss wasn’t enough. She wanted him misbehaving, so she nipped his lower lip, demanding
more
. He took over, his tongue parting her lips and sweeping inside her mouth. A little rough, a whole lot sexy.

Tag Johnson didn’t have a tame bone in his body as his sweet, lazy, take-charge kiss proved. Because that’s what he did—take charge of her. His mouth devoured hers, sending the hot pleasure streaking through hers. Swept off her feet, she got a stranglehold on his dog tags because letting go now was impossible, even if he made her knees go weak. He kissed her and kissed her, as hungry for the contact as she was.

His hands pinned her in place against him. Her nipples tingled as heat swirled through her. Oh, he was good.
Thank God.
She’d come back from Afghanistan, determined to live, to enjoy every moment she had. For the soldiers she hadn’t been able to bring back, for the women she’d met there who lived lives she couldn’t begin to comprehend. For
herself
. So she kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his. Meeting his stroke for stroke. Around him, she was out of control and she
liked
it.

Behind them, M.J. coughed. “I’ll just open up the house. You two come on in when you’re ready.”

So much for keeping this thing between them under wraps and their own wicked secret. He’d announced their engagement, and then they’d kissed, and if there weren’t pictures on the island’s Facebook page within the hour, she’d be shocked. And, clearly, not much shocked her these days. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have kissed the daylights out of this man in front of an audience.

She pulled away from their steamy lip-lock with a sigh of regret. They really, really couldn’t have sex on the front porch, and buying the cottage was only the first hurdle to that particular fantasy. Heat and need darkened his eyes, and his breathing was every bit as ragged as hers. Still, he’d apparently rediscovered his responsible side, because he captured her wrists and gently tugged her hands down.

“Behave,” he ordered. “We can’t do this.”

She hoped that was an unspoken
here
she heard, because he drove her crazy, and he couldn’t kiss her like that and not make good on all his unspoken promises. Half a weekend with Tag had been nowhere near enough time.

“It takes two.” And he definitely wasn’t helping. With a husky groan, he brushed his mouth over hers one more time in a quick, hard kiss, and then he let her go.

“Let’s check out your house,” he said and headed for the door. That left her staring at his butt, so she made herself useful and plucked the leaf off his back pocket.

“Mia.” Her name came out part mutter, part laugh. And she liked it, liked knowing he had no idea what to do with her. Other than the obvious, of course. If she careened out of control around him, well, he was in the same boat.

She handed him the leaf. “You’re collecting souvenirs, sailor.”

“Shoot. If I’m wearing spiders, you’re removing those, too.”

“You’re on your own there.” Then she gave into temptation. Her hand landed on his leafless butt in a gentle smack. His eyes widened, as if he couldn’t quite believe she’d done that. That was fun, but she had a house calling her name. It was safer if she removed her hands from Tag’s too-tempting body and confined her inspection to the rooms. She’d bet the place had a bedroom or two. If he wanted to play fiancé, she could be convinced to let him. Still, she couldn’t resist getting in the last word as she brushed past him into the cottage.