Maybe there was a solution to Mia’s current dilemma they would both benefit from.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “How about a job, then?”
“You want to hire me? To do what?” Mia latched on to the mug, and he bit back a smile. She might not take handouts, but coffee was apparently an exception they had in common.
“The dive shop needs help.” He pulled a carton of coffee creamer out of the fridge. Damn it. He should go grocery shopping. He had three bottles of beer, the coffee creamer and a well-aged take-out container of hot-and-sour soup. Making her breakfast in bed was so not happening. Instead, he grabbed a few packets of sugar he’d boosted from the corner coffee shop and dropped them on the counter. She came around and reached for the creamer. His kitchen was approximately the size of a coffin, and her hip bumped his.
“Okay. You need more hands on deck. But again, where do I fit in?”
He couldn’t tell if she was seriously considering his offer or not. Cal and Daeg wouldn’t mind. They were swimming in paper when all of them preferred to be out on the water. They needed to be able to focus on what they did best: diving and rescuing. Mia could be a godsend.
“We need an office manager.”
Humor lit her eyes. She took a sip from the mug, curling her hands around the side. “You want to play the boss and the secretary?”
Her mug was black with two rabbits on the front. As the hot coffee did its thing, the mug changed color. Purple with crazed bunnies replicating everywhere. Yeah. He was subtle.
She looked down at the mug. “Nice. I’m glad we used a condom.”
The image of Mia holding a baby was shocking and unexpected. He had no idea where it came from or why it didn’t have him running for the door. “I aim to please.”
“You have good aim.” She grinned at him.
“So, how about it? You want to come work with us?”
She was shaking her head almost before he got the question out. “I’m not planning on sticking around, but thanks. I’ll call Visa and get them to send another card out here. I’ll be out of your hair ASAP.”
“Think about it. Even a temp until we can hire a full-time person would be helpful.”
“We’d kill each other.”
He gave her a bemused look. “I can restrain myself.”
“Uh-huh.”
Tag knew his concern wasn’t something she wanted, but he worried about her. She was pretty much screwed, as far as he could tell. Her purse was somewhere between here and Mexico, and a job could help with her immediate cash flow problem. “You want breakfast? There’s a breakfast burrito place near the dive shop—” Before he could finish the invitation, she was—as usual—two steps ahead of him.
“Go.” She slapped a twenty-dollar bill into his hands. Damn it. He’d bet the bill represented all the cash she had on her at the moment. “Do the hunter-gatherer thing. Food sounds good.”
Somehow, he found himself standing outside his own place. Shoes, check. Pants, check. Hell, he even had a shirt. Which was good, because even the burrito place had standards. He’d go this time because he hadn’t missed the flash of vulnerability in her eyes—right now, she needed to be in charge. He was humoring her. Making sure she felt safe, because she was alone on his island and he owed her.
“Damn, boy.” Mr. Bentley rolled his eyes, limping toward him. “She’s got you coming and going, don’t she?”
Also true.
“You want a burrito?”
* * *
TAG DISPOSED OF and breakfast arranged for, Mia kicked it into high gear. She sent a few quick Skype messages to her cousin, then arranged for new credit cards and an ATM card to be overnighted to her. At the twenty-minute mark, she’d booked a room at Sweet Moon’s. Thank God for the power of PayPal and the internet. Okay, Tag had offered up his couch and his help, but she could do this without him. Unfortunately, her girly bits were all too happy to remind her of the areas where he could help.
She couldn’t stop thinking about him, which was a problem. Hopefully one her Sweet Moon reservation would fix, because no matter how good last night had been, it was time to move on. She’d met more than her fair share of sailors, and she knew how this worked. He’d ship out. She’d stay behind or ship out in the opposite direction. Fantastic sex wouldn’t lead to anything more and she was good with that.
Her stomach growled, reminding her that the calorie content of introspection was nonexistent. Just in case she’d misunderstood the state of Tag’s refrigerator and squandered her last twenty dollars, she made a quick reconnaissance trip into his kitchen. Her search just confirmed her first impressions. The only food in the man’s kitchen was for the four-legged residents, although even the kibble was starting to look like a possibility.