Wicked Secrets (Men of Discovery Island 3)

The possessiveness welling up in her was less familiar—or understandable. She didn’t have any claim on Tag, but apparently her brain hadn’t fully processed the message. Viewing the house suddenly seemed less important than keeping the Realtor far, far away from Tag. Just in case he was in a dating mood.

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.

* * *

THE 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...