Wicked Secrets (Men of Discovery Island 3)

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MIA BENT OVER and naked in his living room was an excellent way to wake up. Far better than waking up alone and lined up on the left side of his bed, as if his head had been making room for her while he slept. And she’d stood him up. Whatever her reasons for abandoning the bedroom, the sound of his voice had her going all rigid. She turned around and there it was...the Mia glare he knew so well. Yeah, he was in trouble again, but it wasn’t his fault she was all long legs and sun-kissed skin. Beneath the prickly exterior, she was real pretty, and what he’d seen when she reached down for her top ranked right up there in the category of world’s sexiest sights. Her butt was all sweet curves and lower...

“So that’s a no?” A man could hope.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on me.” She yanked the T-shirt over her head. Since she still had yesterday’s swimsuit in her hands, she was naked underneath. Possibilities tempted him. He had the day off, and she’d already missed the boat. Literally. They could go back to bed together. He could think of plenty of things to do to pass the time until she was ready to figure out a game plan.

Was she blushing? He inspected her face more closely. Sure enough, a pink flush painted her cheeks.

“Are you embarrassed?” Imagining his take-charge master sergeant—emphasis on master—being self-conscious was a stretch, even if he did have an excellent imagination.

“I have a million things to do.” The way she eyed his body—the lower half of his body—had him wondering what exactly was on her mental itinerary. Last night had been fantastic. She probably did have things to do, however. Things completely unrelated to his taking her back to bed. Mia always seemed to have a plan. She’d certainly organized yesterday’s bridal group with frightening efficiency.

“For example?” He propped a shoulder against his kitchen wall and eyed the swimsuit in her hand. Mostly naked was a good start on his own personal agenda for the day.

“I need to call for new credit cards.” She ticked her to-do’s off on her fingers. “I need to let my cousin know my plans and make arrangements for my luggage to be forwarded from the cruise. Then I need to find the ferry schedule and book a hotel room until the cards can arrive. Is there a Western union  ?”

She was almost out of fingers. “If you need money, I’m good for it.”

Smooth, Johnson. Real smooth. She huffed out a breath. Did she think he was offering to pay her for last night? The idea rankled. Truth was, he’d make the offer of cash to any of his friends. She was in a tight spot and he could help. And...when had Sergeant Dominatrix become a friend? Or, rather, when had he developed friendly feelings toward her? Lust, absolutely. But friendship? A dangerous notion. “I’m happy to help,” he said, meaning it.

She stared at him suspiciously, foot tapping. Somehow, she managed to look take-charge even though all she was wearing was his T-shirt. That shirt was his new favorite.

“I don’t need a handout.”

“Okay.” He understood...because he’d feel the same way. And right now, he needed coffee. His head simply wasn’t capable of getting into the game without a healthy dose of caffeine. He loaded up the Mr. Coffee, doubling the proportions. Scooping grounds he could do. Making the woman standing in his living room happy was a whole different proposition. Last night had been fantastic. Amazing. He had a feeling he was sporting a stupid grin. She, on the other hand, was making to-do lists.

Reaching up, he grabbed two mugs from the kitchen cupboard. His temporary place had come fully furnished, which meant he had a grand total of two mugs and two glasses. Two plates, two bowls and two sets of silverware. His kitchen was a veritable Noah’s ark. At least they wouldn’t have to share. Or drink straight from the pot, although he’d certainly done worse. For coffee, he had no reservations. He’d do whatever it took.

He shoved a mug in her direction. Bonus: whoever had picked the mugs had a sense of humor. His had Adam and Eve on the side. As soon as the two heated up, their fig leaves disappeared. It might be more than Mia wanted to see this early in the morning. “Cream and sugar?”

“Hit me,” she said. “And don’t hold back.”

Huh. He wouldn’t have guessed she had a sweet tooth. The sugar was buried under a stack of invoices and dive-supply catalogs. He nudged the pile out of the way, not entirely sure when his kitchen counter had become an adjunct office. Shoot. Compared to Mount Paperwork on Cal’s desk, his stack was more steep hill than Alpine peak, but something had to change. Finding an office manager needed to be number one on his to-do list.