Wicked Secrets (Men of Discovery Island 3)

“Got it in one.” His eyes twinkled at her, not taking himself seriously. She liked that, too. Sam Black was fun.

“Welcome to the team.” She thumped a stack of paperwork down in front of him. “Grab a pen and start signing.”

“Maybe we should get to know each other first.” He waved a paper bag of tacos from a nearby food truck. “I brought lunch.”

What wasn’t there to like about a guy bringing food? Free tacos were free tacos—and the company wasn’t bad. Of course, he wasn’t waiting for an invitation, either. He padded around the counter and joined her on the business side of things. Hooking a chair with his foot, he dropped into it and stared at her.

“Free food will not get you out of the paperwork gig,” she advised him.

He nodded solemnly. “And there it is—my secret plan revealed. I’ll have to come up with another one.”

He caught her hand in his, running a thumb over her QVC engagement ring. Given how big and bling-y it was, he would have had to be blind not to notice it. “Nice sparkler. Off the market? Or just investing two month’s salary in diamond futures?”

She couldn’t possibly explain her fake engagement to Sam. However, she wasn’t sure she could work up a suitably mysterious smile, either, or pretend there was nothing going on between her and Tag. Because there was something, even if it was just hot sex.

“It’s complicated,” she hedged.

“It always is.” He let go of her hand with a mock sigh. “But if you need to uncomplicate matters, I’m here to help. Or to fetch tacos. I take direction well, and I’m an excellent team player.”

His heated gaze made it clear that team player was some sort of pickup line. She smiled back at him. Two-legged Sam was clearly attracted to her and had every intention of making his interest known. Too bad she looked at him and just wanted to pat him on the head like her cat.

Ever since Tag had carried her off the pier like some kind of movie hero—she had Scarlett O’Hara fantasies playing in her head—she’d known two things. First, she didn’t need rescuing by anyone...but if Tag wanted to play Rhett Butler to her Scarlett, she was willing to let him. Second, Tag was sexy as hell, and she loved the wicked secrets of their nights together, but...she also wanted more than hot sex from him.

In fact, when she thought about Tag, the words for keeps popped into her head with distressing regularity. He was part of her island fantasy, but her feelings for him ran so much deeper than that, and there was a good chance she loved him. All of which meant Sam was wasting his time. She’d take his tacos, but she wouldn’t date him.

So she fixed what she hoped was a professional smile on her face. “Are you a loaner or are you here for good on the island?”

He grinned back at her. He had a nice smile, one that reached his eyes and crinkled up the corners with happy lines. This was the kind of guy she should want to be The One for her. Especially when he moved closer, his shoulder bumping hers as he emptied the contents of the bag onto her desk. She tried not to wince at the mess. Free lunch was always great, but if he got taco drippings on her paperwork, they’d be having a much less amicable conversation.

“I could be talked into staying.” He divided the tinfoil-wrapped tacos into two even-Steven piles.

See? He smelled good and he shared. She’d bet he was a generous lover, as well.

Her pulse refused to speed up.

Damn it. She was trying here, and Sam was clearly a natural-born flirt. Of course, Sam-the-kitten was completely won over by the gift of tacos and pounced on her desk.

“Off-limits, Sam.” She’d made the mistake of feeding the kitten taco meat once. Her kitten apparently had a sensitive digestive system, and they’d both paid a hefty price for that little mishap.

“It’s a sign,” big Sam said in a low, gravelly voice. “You named your cat after me.”

They both looked at the animal, who was now trying to simultaneously chase his tail and lick his balls. His appointment with the Discovery Island vet wasn’t until next week.

“I’m not sure that’s a recommendation,” she said wryly. She was also fairly certain that Tag had named the kitten after a Dr. Seuss character, perhaps because of its penchant to run around eating anything it saw.

“And you’re different than I expected.” The grin Sam gave her was crooked and more than a little sexy. Unfortunately, he also wasn’t Tag. As much as she wished otherwise, the rescue swimmers weren’t interchangeable, and she couldn’t swap one out for the other like she would a light bulb or a spark plug.