Wicked Secrets (12 page)

The door opened and Tag stepped outside. She hadn’t realized he’d arrived. “Are we committing felonies before I’ve had coffee?”

He looked sinfully good. His wet suit was pushed down to his waist and he wore another one of those ratty Navy T-shirts he loved so much. Mia was pretty sure he had a dozen of the same shirts and just rotated them. He wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her up against his side. He was warm and strong, and a whisper of awareness skittered through her. Clearly, there were already fringe benefits for her to enjoy from their “engagement.”

That being said, her visceral reaction to seeing Tag in one piece and on the ground shook her. Part of her wanted to throw her arms around him and plant a kiss on his mouth. But touching wasn’t part of their deal. He’d hired her to be his office manager, and keeping it professional was important. Bedroom things stayed in the bedroom. Or on the floor. Against the wall. Now that she thought about it, they hadn’t spent anywhere near enough time in bed.

An oversight she’d have to remedy tonight when she got him alone.

“The rescue went well?” The relaxed but tired look on his face said it had, but Mia wanted to hear him say it.

“Got them all back safe and sound,” he told her, dropping a kiss on her forehead.

“Hey.” Carla gave him a friendly smack on the shoulder. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Tag plucked the chalk out of the other woman’s hand. “I’m pretty sure today’s dive doesn’t involve man-eating squid or...” He squinted. “A school of oarfish?”

“Barracuda. Tell my boss to send me to art school and you’ll get better results.” Carla grinned unrepentantly and pointed to Mia’s hand. “When are you picking out the ring?”

“Spending my money, are ya?”

“Doing Mia here a favor. I want her on my side.”

“You just want me to hire more Navy rescue swimmers,” Mia said.

They hadn’t talked about a ring. In fact, if she was being honest, they hadn’t done much talking at all. When she and Tag were sharing air space, the chemistry between them took over. There tended to be a whole lot of kissing—which she was definitely a fan of—but not so much rational discussion. They probably should have figured out the parameters of their new “relationship” right away. However, buying a real ring for a fake relationship seemed like overkill in the window-dressing department.

Carla laughed. “
Hot
Navy rescue swimmers, remember? And there’s already a poll going around as to who’s going to have the biggest ring—you, Dani or Piper. Cal’s pretty competitive, so keep that in mind.”

“Will do,” Tag said smoothly. “I’ll plan on giving Mia here an absolute Mount Everest of a ring.”

Cal stuck his head out of the dive shop. “Somebody made coffee. I drank it.”

“Hey.” Tag looked wounded. “She’s my fiancée. That makes it
my
coffee.”

“Ask me nicely and I’ll make more.” Since the men had spent the better part of the night and the wee hours searching for lost fishermen, coffee was the least she could do. She went back inside and fired up a second pot.

Cal slapped Tag on the back. “Coffee. She’s a keeper. Good hire.”

She shoved a cup of coffee in Tag’s direction. Kissing could come later.

“Thanks.” His fingers brushed hers as he took it. Those fingers had skimmed over her ribs, painting erotic circles on her skin. Her breasts. And lower...

“You’re welcome.” Please
and
thank you? Really? Manners were good, but this was an inane conversation to be having with all this heat and need pumping through her body. She’d planned and executed multi-team campaigns in the desert. She’d come under fire more than once and kept her cool. She’d led convoys and scanned the edges of highways for the signs of IEDs. She sighed. True, she wasn’t entirely sure how she’d ended up on coffee detail, but sometimes the little things counted most, and hours of flying and swimming took it out of you. So if her contribution needed to be coffee, then that was the contribution she’d be making.

The way he raked his eyes over her confirmed her impression she looked good. Granted, FedEx’s deliveries had plenty to do with her success in the good looks department, because her credit card had been working overtime. She’d paired a sassy little short-sleeved jacket with red fringe and enormous red flowers over a fitted white blouse and a denim skirt. Her espadrilles made her almost as tall as him. Fun stuff. No more khaki and creases for her. He flicked the fringe.

“Nice.” He was tired and salty, his hair sticky from his swim as he grinned up at her. Something inside her turned over.
Just sex
, she reminded herself.
Nothing more
. Cal and Daeg filed in behind him, already discussing the day’s agenda.
See? It’s business as usual.

Daeg eyeballed their calendar. “Damn. We need to hire more guys.”

Mia toasted Daeg with her own coffee cup. “And gals.”

Daeg looked over at her and flashed her a thumbs-up. “Point taken.”

Okay. Her role here was marginally larger than coffee.

Tag looked at her. “Do you miss it?”

“It?”

“The missions. Going in hot and getting a job done. Doing stuff that matters.”

“A job doesn’t have to involve bullets and life-and-death to matter.”

He exhaled “No, it doesn’t, although I’ve personally found it helps.”

“Good. Because there are plenty of people here on Discovery Island doing
stuff
that matters.”

“I don’t want to fight,” he said gruffly, moving closer.

She knew it didn’t look like anything out of the ordinary to the other guys in the office. In fact, she was pretty sure Daeg had his head down on his desk and was napping. Nearby Cal worked the phone, handling paperwork and logistics. She didn’t care because, nope, she was too aware of the rescue swimmer horning in on her space.

“Okay.”

He waited a beat. “Everything went well here?”

Yeah.
She fought the urge to roll her eyes at him.
Office equipment was
so
life threatening
. She’d sorted and filed. She’d also made a dozen phone calls and probably spent the GDP of a small African country on Post-it notes and folders. Tag appeared to be a big fan of the heap system. He had heaps of papers on his desk. In the drawers. And, yes, in the shop’s kitchen. At least she hadn’t found anything in the bathroom. Yet. The day was still young, and she was working weekends because the man was so disorganized.

She pointed to the labeled, stickered stack near his elbow. “Those are the ones you need to deal with immediately. The rest can wait until tomorrow.”

He grinned drolly at her. “I don’t want to do paperwork, Mia. That’s why we’ve got you.”

Yeah. The mountainous proportions of his heaps had made his
need
perfectly clear. She wasn’t stupid—just organized.

“You’ll thank me when the electric company doesn’t turn off your power.”

“The power bill is Cal’s responsibility.”

“Nice try. He said pretty much the same thing to me. You lose.”

He ran a hand over his head. He did look tired, and she knew she wasn’t helping. But he’d hired her to do a job, and she’d do it.

Or not.

“Give me the checkbook.” She held out a hand. “I’ll do it.”

He hesitated, shooting a glance toward Cal. Daeg let out a rasping sigh, still down for the count. No back up there.

Pinning Cal with a no-nonsense stare, she asked, “Do you have a problem with my paying bills?”

Cal shrugged. “If Tag’s cool with it, so am I.”

“Cop out.” Tag groaned.

“You hired her.”

True. She wondered how Tag had explained their knowing each other. It didn’t matter. She was staying on task here. She waggled her fingers.

“Give it up.”

Tag yanked open his desk drawer. Since she’d had spare time, she’d organized the contents. Now his pencils were lined up on the left, with pens only on the right. “Jesus.”

“I’m going to assume that’s a prayer of thanksgiving.” She had no idea how he’d ever managed to find anything in there.

He leaned in, big and rough and sexy. “Let’s recap. Who’s the boss here?”

He was either playing with her, or he was genuinely bent out of shape because she’d touched his office supplies. Her money was on option A. But since he was tired, she’d cut him some slack.

“You’re signing my paychecks,” she said cheerfully.

“That’s what I thought.”

“You told me to stay busy,” she reminded him. “And your record-keeping is a disgrace.”

Shaking his head, he pulled the drawer out farther and pointed. To underscore the fact she was a team player, she made a point of looking. Everything was exactly as she’d left it. Neat and ordered. Square and lined up.
Perfect.
He could definitely thank her now.

“Your Post-its look like they’re on drill.”

“You can also find them,” she pointed out.

“I don’t recall giving you permission to touch my things.”

Right. “I didn’t know I needed
permission.
”

“Mia—” God, she loved the way he said her name. “I am your boss.”

“In the office.” She could play games, too. Slowly she walked her fingers up his muscular chest and hooked a finger in the collar of his T-shirt. “So you’d better make the most of it, big guy.”

* * *

J
ESUS
. S
HE
 
LOOKED
at him and he—he wanted to give her whatever she wanted. Unzip her sassy little skirt and explore all her secret spots. He eyeballed the room, assessing the feasibility of his ad-hoc plan. Daeg had his head down on his desk, and, from the rough sounds emanating from his friend’s vicinity, the guy was out for a while. Cal wouldn’t be rescuing him, either. Still busy arguing with someone, he was headed out the front, ear glued to his cell. Yeah. If he was looking for backup, he wasn’t finding it there. He was free to fall unchecked for Mia.

Pity, he couldn’t afford it.

She’d declared herself to be a stay-put kind of gal—and he was headed back for San Diego and a new mission in a few weeks. The problem was, he had absolutely no willpower around Mia. She tugged at his shirt, a quick, determined no-nonsense kind of pull. He let her reel him in. He didn’t want to keep his hands off her, and she seemed to share his opinion.

Which was why his mouth had ended up hovering mere inches above hers in dangerous territory. “You like to be in charge.”

She smiled and crossed her legs, her bare knee brushing his. Her denim skirt inched upward. If he ran a hand up her leg, the denim would ruck right up, leaving her bare.

“You’re playing with fire,” he growled.

Instead of retreating,
of course
she tilted her head up until her lower lip brushed against his. Jesus. Was that her tongue?

“I’ve got it on good authority you know how to rescue a woman.”

“Whatever you want,” he croaked. If Daeg weren’t here, he’d have her on the desk, and that was wrong. He didn’t want his body making promises his heart couldn’t keep. Staying on Discovery Island was out of the question. He’d signed contracts, made a commitment to his CO. He’d never questioned his decision before, but now...he wondered. Hell, yeah, he wondered.

“This.” The word became a whisper as her mouth closed in on his. So, damn it, for a long, sweet moment he let her kiss him.

She nipped him then, her hands cupping the back of his head as she lifted her mouth off his. “Don’t make me do all the work here, sailor.”

More orders. He scooped her up, pulling her onto his lap until she straddled him. Damned if her skirt wasn’t made for the position.

“Just kisses?” His breathing sounded rough as he asked. Only to clarify, because it was important to know where he stood. Sat. Whatever.
Danger.

She snuck a peek at Daeg. He could have told her the man slept like the dead. Plus, they’d been up all night. It was a minor miracle any of them were still standing.

“Just kisses.”

He flattened his palm against her heart, savoring the urgent drumbeat. She wanted him, and her need was sexy as hell.

“You’re kissing your boss.”

He leaned in and flicked a button open.

“You can’t undress me here.” She was positively cute when she was shocked.

“Who’s the boss?” He kissed her again to distract her while he flicked buttons two and three open. Her bra was downright wicked—lavender-and-white checks with a strip of sweet, innocent lace outlining her curves. “I like this.”

“I’ll bet you do,” she muttered, shooting an anxious look over at Daeg.

“You could take it off,” he suggested.

“You have a boss-secretary fetish.”

No, he had a
thing
for Mia. He undid one more button. White cotton gaped away from her silky skin and that damned bra. If she was a secretary, she was a very, very naughty secretary indeed. He wrapped his hand around her thigh.

“Are we agreed?”

“What?” She sounded breathless.
Good.

He eased his palm up her thigh.

“That I’m in charge.”

When he slid a finger beneath her thong, she was wet and slick. And he wasn’t, he realized, feeling nice. One quick, hard tug and her panties were his.

“Tag.” She froze, as if she couldn’t believe he’d done what he’d done and in the middle of the office. Well, that made two of them, but she drove him crazy.

“This is why I’m in charge.” He stroked deeper.

She made an unintelligible noise, part moan, part breathy sigh.

“You’re mine,” he said and stroked her again. He could do this for hours, easing her higher. Unfortunately, Daeg stirred, his boots banging against his desk, and the dazed look in her eyes faded.

She slid off his lap and glared at him, holding out her hand for her panties.

“This can’t be anything more than a game. I’m not interested in any kind of a long-distance
thing
. I had one of those and it didn’t end well.”

“I didn’t know I was a
thing
,” he muttered after a long moment. His words didn’t come out right, but he also had no intention of returning her panties. Instead, he tucked them into his back pocket.