Chapter Two

 

That was why he’d dragged her here on a Saturday afternoon after six months of silence?

Stephen had the grace to look abashed. “I know you’ll say it bends our rules, but the situation is unique.”

“Bends?” Tasha sent him a speaking look. “Try shatters.”

The rules between them were clear, and they hadn’t changed in the years since college—she was Owen’s old high school friend and he was Owen’s brother, and as far as everyone else was concerned, that was the extent of their relationship. They didn’t see each other in public outside of family functions or accidental meetings on the street. They didn’t travel in the same circles. They’d certainly never met in his office or gone on a date.

But a convenient loophole existed for those times when she and Stephen couldn’t help but give in to the chemistry between them. When that situation arose, usually every year or so, they found a private or semi-private place where they could jump each other’s bones and get it out of their systems. Then they went back to their lives, no harm done and no regrets.

Over the years Stephen had grown lax about those rules, but she never had. When he tried to approach her at the pub or one of Jeremy’s backyard parties to engage her in small talk, she made herself scarce. When he sent invitations to charity events, the way he did for every member of his family and their friends, she was always too busy to go. When she came with Jeremy to volunteer during Stephen’s reelection campaigns, she never looked his way or gave any indication that she was willing to lick more than stamps for the sexy politician.

Tasha had learned the hard way that diligence was essential when it came to resisting a Finn. She couldn’t let herself forget that this was the only kind of relationship they could have. Some might argue that it wasn’t a relationship at all, that it wasn’t healthy. But whatever it was, healthy or not, she’d never been willing to risk it. She didn’t want to think about the day it would end.

What Stephen was asking might speed that day along.

Setting the paperweight back on his desk, she tried not to sound as panicked as she felt. “Being your plus one in front of other politicians, in public, is definitely against our rules, Senator. You have to know that.”

His lips curled disdainfully. “Phil Burke is no politician.” Ignoring her gasp, he continued, “But he is big on security and secrecy. This is a very private function, with me as the special guest and the only representative present. Technically we wouldn’t be together in public.”

Tasha gaped at him. Philip Burke was wealthy, dangerous and, as the owner of the biggest newspaper in the state and his own talk radio station, responsible for revealing the scandalous secrets of any politician who wasn’t malleable enough to accept his money and play his game. No one could ever definitively prove Burke was crooked, but everyone knew it was true.

“Stephen Finn, what the hell kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?” she finally demanded.

“The complicated kind.” He grimaced. “I didn’t seek it out, believe me. Burke has been focused on me for a while. I think he sees me as something of a challenge. The feds contacted me a little over five months ago to let me know he was under investigation and ask for my help.”

“Which you said yes to because you’re a closet masochist with a death wish?”

He ignored her question. “Since then I’ve been slowly but surely allowing him to woo me. Lunches, dinner meetings where I let him think he’s getting to me. That I’m frustrated and not as idealistic as I used to be. Not exactly a lie, and that truth has served my purpose. I’ve also led him to believe my appetites are not for public consumption.”

“Has he threatened you?”

Stephen waved off her concern with a flip of his hand. “He likes to bring up my past, but there’s nothing threatening in that. I’ve never lied about it. He has implied knowledge about the rest of the family that could be construed as vaguely threatening—Seamus and his precarious situation with the kids, Dad’s connections to the Irish mob through good old Grandpa Finn…”

“Owen and Jeremy?” Tasha asked, concerned.

Stephen smiled at that. “Ours was one of the first states to legalize same-sex marriage, Natasha. When the law passed, this city threw an impromptu weeklong celebration that was so over the top it got national media coverage. Coming after me for that would only make Burke look bad.” He shrugged. “But he’d no doubt pile it on top of the mountain of bullshit he’s collecting to use as leverage. I’ve been trying to keep his attention away from Jennifer, but she hasn’t made it easy. Now I have this invitation and I need to accept it. This is my chance to get him to make me an offer and be done with the whole dirty business.”

“But?” She could hear it in his voice.

“But this gathering isn’t going to be relaxing, despite his claim. Not for me, at any rate. From what I understand, the activities planned aren’t exactly in my wheelhouse.”

He didn’t have to tell her why. People at the club talked about Burke’s private parties all the time. They were infamous for every form of hedonism and kink imaginable. Phil Burke and his endless string of young wives played the hosts, and they spared no expense in their quest for debauchery. Tasha had turned down a friend’s offer to join them a few years ago. It had seemed sordid then, but now that Burke had obviously set his sights on corrupting Stephen? She shuddered, wanting to warn everyone she knew to stay away. Burke needed to be blackballed for using people’s sexual preferences for political leverage.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Let’s see if I understand the situation. You want me to join you for a dirty slumber party so you can play undercover agent for the feds and let Burke compromise your reputation—because you have to know that’s his plan. And those skills of mine that you need have to do with my reputation at the club. You know that if he snoops around in my life, he’ll see exactly what he needs to see to make you irresistibly bribable.”

Stephen’s lips quirked. “That about sums it up.”

A completely inappropriate laugh threatened to escape her throat. “You need a beard.”

“A what?”

“You want me to be your kinky beard.”

Stephen furrowed his brow in confusion. “Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?”

“You rarely do, so why start now? Just let me enjoy the moment.” She crossed her legs, feeling her skirt slip high on her thighs. He noticed. “So what are your thoughts, Senator Finn? What would I be to you in this scenario? Mistress? Girlfriend? Your secret cup of Puerto Rican hot chocolate on the side?”

He gave her the look that always made her ache. The one that made her want to beg. “Yes.”

He could be dangerous when he wanted to be. “And saying yes to this will mean I’ll need to act that part for the duration?”

“Yes.” His voice was deeper now, with the barest hint of a rasp. “I need him to believe you’re the weakness he can use against me. He’s been looking for something he can hold over my head. Something I’m passionate about that has the potential to be scandalous. Someone I’m passionate about.”

Tasha shifted in her seat at his emphasis. “It does sound like a role I was born to play—the mixed-race mistress with curves for miles and a shady family background.”

“It’s your shameless behavior that makes you right for this, not your genealogy,” Stephen corrected softly. “Your knowledge would be invaluable. And there’d be no need to pretend desire. Not between us.”

That was true. No pretense was necessary. She was ready for an undressed rehearsal right now.

“Since I’m not sure when he’ll send for us, you and Brady will spend the evening at my house. I’m hoping we can prepare a plan of action.”

“And you’re taking your cousin to a kinky sex party…why?”

“I’m allowed a bodyguard. I think Burke believes it will put me at ease. Brady’s got the right background and he’s been vetted by my contact, so they’ve allowed it. It won’t hurt to have someone we trust watching our backs.”

They better have damn well allowed it—Brady Finn was a genuine hero, a kickass Marine with a medal and everything. But vetting took a little time. How long had Stephen known about this party? “Did they vet me?”

He looked away from her. “They asked, but I told them it was unnecessary. That I trusted you, and if my word wasn’t good enough, we had a problem.”

Because he knew she wouldn’t pass their test? She couldn’t deny it was true. One or two cousins on her mother’s side had had more than simple brushes with the law, and her father had lived illegally in the United States—until she was ten, when he was deported back to Ireland and the family legacy he’d tried to escape.

She shook her head. “You’re crazy if you think they don’t already know every detail about my life, whether you said it was necessary or not. Hell, I have relatives in the IRA. I’m probably already on a list.”

“And the Finns were mobsters and bootleggers. What’s your point? I was simply informing them that you couldn’t be replaced with a female agent.”

She knew it. “They had someone in mind, didn’t they?”

His look said it all. “Burke would have made her as an agent the minute she walked through the door.”

“Made her? You already have the lingo down and everything.” She sighed a little dramatically. “So I’m last-minute Lucy. I’m flattered. Unless I wasn’t the first girl into kink you occasionally had sex with on your list. Because that would hurt my feelings.”

“No.” His look was a mixture of displeasure and concern. “There was no one else on my list. I know I should have talked to you sooner. Putting you in Burke’s crosshairs just so I can have a believable cover is selfish as hell.”

But he needed one. If this wasn’t successful, Stephen could lose everything he’d worked for. He could be forced to leave office and do one of those humiliating press conferences where he had to apologize for perversions he hadn’t even gotten to experience. At least he wasn’t married. It was always the stone-faced wives standing behind their men that Tasha felt most sorry for.

He swore. “And I just realized I didn’t think about the bakery. Can you afford to be away? I’ll make sure you’re compensated—”

“I haven’t said yes yet,” she reminded him sternly. “Don’t ruin your odds by insulting me.”

But her mind was already working through the logistics of the situation. The Twisted Tart would survive a week without her. With two efficient employees and a thriving online market selling her special muffin mixes, she could probably take an entire month off without anyone noticing.

Her business model wasn’t overly ambitious, but it was successful. She experimented with recipes, closed up for a few hours here and there when the weather was good, and always took weekends off.

And if there was a scandal? She’d need to hire another employee because business would boom. Everyone would want a muffin from the senator’s twisted tart.

Good Lord, was she actually considering this? It sounded crazy. Straight-out-of-a-damn-mystery-thriller crazy. How had the careful, politically correct Finn brother gotten involved in something like this?

However it had happened, Stephen was offering her something that was more tempting than she could have imagined—four days with him where she wouldn’t need to pretend she didn’t know him. That she didn’t want to touch him every time she saw him. In fact, it would look suspicious if she didn’t do a hell of a lot of touching, and more. She would have to show Burke and anyone else watching why the senator couldn’t resist her. It was a proposition that was already giving her ideas. Dangerous on so many levels but undeniably tempting. It was the kind of thing the majority of her fantasies were made of.

Which meant she needed to tread very carefully. There was no reason to put herself or their current relationship at risk if she didn’t have to. “What would happen if I said no?”

He stilled. “You’d forget this conversation and I’d go without you. I wouldn’t blame you, you know. I’m already starting to second guess this brilliant plan.”

Like hell. “I’m not sure you’re up for one of these parties alone, Senator, regardless of the stakes.”

“I’m not exactly an innocent, Natasha. I’d manage.”

She tilted her head and gave him a thorough once-over. “Honey, trust me, when it comes to this you are an innocent. My people can sense fresh meat like sharks scent blood. They’d eat you alive, or make you so uncomfortable you’d out yourself as the vanilla you are before you can get whatever it is you need from Burke.”

Stephen rounded the desk to stand in front of her chair, leaning forward until his hands were on either side of her and he was looking directly into her eyes. “Which is why I was asking for your help.”

She hoped he didn’t see her small shiver of response. “You need me.”

“I need you.”

Despite the situation with Jennifer, Stephen trusted her. He wouldn’t have come to her with this if he didn’t know he could rely on her.

He needed her.

And that was the problem with their strange, dysfunctional relationship. Whenever he wanted her, needed her, no matter how much time had passed, she was there—at least when it came to sex. Ever since their tumultuous college affair, he’d been the one man she couldn’t refuse. He was also the one she couldn’t have. It was the ultimate mind fuck. She would have to do something about it eventually, but now wasn’t the time. There was only one answer in the end, because there was no way she was going to let him do this alone. Out of loyalty to his family if nothing else.

You’re not doing this for his family and you know it.

She lifted her hand to cup his jaw, feeling the scrape of stubble along her palm. “I’m in, Boris.” The momentary confusion in his expression made her laugh. “Boris and Natasha? Rocky and Bullwinkle?”

When he didn’t respond, she huffed in frustration. “Stephen, were you born in a suit?”

“You know I wasn’t.”

“I get it. Cartoons weren’t cool enough for your bad-boy image.”

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Some of us weren’t lucky enough to spend our formative years watching children’s shows and experimenting with our sexuality.”

Tasha was tempted to stick out her tongue, but then Stephen leaned into her hand subtly, as if he couldn’t help himself, his deep blue eyes focusing on her lips again. Damn the man.

“Thank you for saying yes. I’ll owe you one.”

“A senator in my pocket, just what I always wanted.”

His smile was subtle. “Brady will take you home to pack. Don’t forget your bathing suit and something appropriate for a formal dinner, in case Burke decides to have one. I’ve got a few calls to make and then we’ll discuss the rest of the details tonight.”

Stephen moved away from her chair and her touch and, just like that, she was dismissed. Too confused and off balance to take offense, she rose on legs that were still weak and headed for the door.

“Natasha?”

She paused with her hand on the doorknob and looked over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“It goes without saying that this is just between us.”

“Obviously not, since you keep saying it.”

He shook his head. “I’m repeating myself so you know that between us doesn’t include Jeremy Porter.”

Damn it. What fun was it to play spy for the government at a kinky house party if you couldn’t tell your best friend about it?

She sighed in disgust. “Fine. It’s not like he’d believe me anyway, right? I mean, this is you we’re talking about. Now if it were Owen—”

“Goodbye, Natasha.” He opened his laptop and stared at it as if she’d ceased to exist.

An image of him tied naked to a bed sprang to mind and she smiled as she opened the door. “Don’t worry, Senator—I can keep this secret.”