Chapter Three

 

“You sound like an old woman, Jeremy. Is this what monogamy is doing to you? Making you a prude? I don’t have to give you references to go away with a strange man for a week of kinky, sweaty sex at an undisclosed location.”

Tasha winked at Brady Finn, who was listening to her end of the phone call as he pulled up in front of Stephen’s brownstone. He shook his head, but his eyes were sparkling with amusement.

Jeremy didn’t find it as funny. “You’re telling me you just met a guy and you’re going away with him for a week. Am I supposed to shrug it off? What if something happened? I’ve heard you and Owen lecture on responsible play and safety before. At least give me his phone number or text a picture of his driver’s license in case of an emergency.”

Tasha groaned. Jeremy was genuinely worried and she hated not being able to tell him the truth. He’d found out about her occasional hookups with Stephen the same day she’d learned about his romance with Owen. When the shock wore off, she and Jeremy had promised to never keep things from each other again.

She probably shouldn’t have called, but she needed someone to be a contact for her employees. She didn’t trust anyone else. And she desperately wanted to tell him something, despite Stephen’s warning. A half-truth couldn’t possibly hurt the investigation, could it?

She glanced away from Brady and lowered her voice. “This isn’t any different than that time in college. I survived that, right?”

Tasha could practically hear the gears turning in his head through the silence on the line.

“Oh.” More silence, then a sharp intake of breath. “Oh.”

She smiled. “Exactly. So don’t worry. And don’t let Adrian and Sue burn down my shop. Oh, and I know you’re on deadline, so don’t do anything to my favorite little demon that I’ll make you regret. Complete those missions successfully and I’ll give you every sordid detail next weekend. We’ll order from that Indian place you love and dish the dirt.”

“And don’t tell Owen. That’s what you’re really saying isn’t it? Don’t tell Owen that you’re spending the entire week having a secret tryst with his older brother, the senator. Don’t tell Owen, even though the last time he found out I’d kept something from him, I couldn’t sit down or lean back comfortably for three days.”

“And you loved it,” she reminded him. “Don’t deny it, honey, I know you too well.”

“And I know you.” Jeremy sighed into the phone. “Are you sure about this, Tasha? Whatever it is between you two hasn’t exactly been resolved, and Stephen is as bad as Owen when it comes to communicating his feelings. Worse, if you listen to Seamus. Hasn’t he proven it, the way he’s avoided you since Scottgate?”

Tasha’s lips twitched at the name he’d chosen for the day their secrets were revealed. “I can handle it.”

“I don’t want you setting yourself up to get hurt.”

“I won’t. I can handle it.”

She glanced over at Brady, but he’d gotten out and was already carrying her bags into Stephen’s house. She exhaled wistfully at the snug fit of his jeans. The muscular man with his short-sleeved black shirt and tightly cropped dark auburn hair had a look about him. That look. In his jawline. Around his eyes. Not to mention his almost-as-squeezable-as-Stephen’s ass.

There were differences, of course. His lips were fuller and his nose had been broken at least once, but even if they’d never met before and a picture of him in uniform wasn’t hanging proudly in the pub, she would have known he was a Finn as soon as he showed up on her doorstep this morning.

That family had an unfair advantage in the genetics department. She had yet to meet a single member of the brood who didn’t look as though they’d been created from someone’s airbrushed wet dream. Lord save her from the blue-eyed Irish devils who seemed to have a natural immunity to body fat, mind-scrambling pheromones and extra helpings of stubborn pride.

They were all too damned irresistible.

“Tasha? Did you hang up?”

Oh hell. “No, of course not. You’re sweet to worry about me, Jeremy. That heart of yours is as sexy as the rest of your package. It almost hurts that you’re off the market. Especially now. We might have just missed our opportunity to have the perfect third.”

Jeremy snorted. “Fine, I get it, you don’t want to talk about your feelings. But calling me to tell me you’re taking a sex holiday with the city’s most eligible bachelor doesn’t scream deprivation to me. Don’t try to convince me you’re suffering.”

“Inside, honey. The pain is buried deep inside…where you’ll never find it again because you have a boyfriend and you’re in love.”

She hung up to his laughter and got out of the car, following Brady’s imposing figure into Stephen’s house. She’d turned down the invitation to his housewarming party, but she’d been here once before for… Well, there was no better way to say booty call, was there? She hadn’t had that much of a chance to look around then because she’d come and gone before daylight.

It was a nice place. Cleaner than her crowded one-bedroom apartment. Warm but unmistakably masculine and clearly professionally decorated. There was no clutter. No rings or scratches on the coffee table, no wear in the carpets that were tastefully thrown across the hardwood floors. The neutral pillows on the couch that could comfortably sleep three seemed brand new. If there weren’t pictures on the mantel—his twin Seamus surrounded by his laughing children, his parents’ anniversary party, Jeremy and Owen smiling as they held a squirming bundle of happy puppy—this place could be a furnished rental.

Did he actually live here? Did anyone?

She found Brady upstairs in the hallway, stalled indecisively with her bags.

“Just put them in one of the guest rooms,” she said helpfully. “My part in this act doesn’t require a drawer in his dresser.”

It would be too intimate.

He obediently headed to the left and brought her to the guest room closest to the master suite. Tasha studied the quaint wrought iron headboard and pale lavender bedspread with reluctant approval. This would do.

Brady set her bags down and rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly. “I should go check out the other rooms.”

“Stay and talk to me,” she insisted. “Just for a minute.”

Brady hesitated. “For a minute,” he agreed, looking around the bedroom with a frown. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a heads up on the way to the office,” he said, not for the first time since they’d left Stephen’s building. “It’s a hell of a request to spring on a family friend.”

“I told you it’s fine.” Tasha sat on the bed and bounced once, sending him a wicked grin. “Lucky for the senator, I’m that kind of friend.”

“So I’m gathering.” He watched her closely. “I always thought you and Jeremy were together.”

Tasha shrugged. “You weren’t entirely wrong. We got together now and then, but we’re just friends. I’m a strong believer in the buddy system.”

Brady’s eyes widened a bit at that. “And you and Stephen?”

“Also buddies. Now and then.” He stared at her until she rolled her eyes. “My sex life is complicated. Let’s just say I’m a progressive, liberated woman with some unresolved commitment issues and leave it at that.”

Brady chuckled and she leaned back on her elbows, enjoying the comfortable mattress and determined to change the course of the conversation. “So when did you start working for the man?”

“The military?”

“Not the man. This man—Senator Finn, defender of the innocent, savior of puppies and the guy angling to be the Irish James Bond.”

His breath came out in a short, sharp puff that sounded like laughter. “About a month.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Rave review. But you have to say that—you work for him. I hope he’s paying you what you’re worth. When I volunteered, all I got was a handful of paper cuts and a stale bagel.”

“Pay’s good.” A shadow of a smile still lingered on his lips as he studied the painting on the wall above her head. At least he looked more approachable now. When he’d come to pick her up he’d been stone-faced and stiff. And huge. He had to be six-foot-five, possibly the tallest Finn on record, and every inch of him was bulging with muscle. She’d felt like saluting and worried that she’d have to drop and give him twenty without the benefit of caffeine.

He’d changed a lot in the last few years.

Tasha’s eyes narrowed. “I could have sworn you used to be the talkative cousin. Or was that your brother Wyatt?”

Steely blue eyes lowered to hers. “Becoming a civilian again hasn’t been the easiest transition. I’m still rusty at one or two things. Casual conversation, for example.”

“Lucky for you I’m the queen of awkward silences,” she offered lightly, sensing his discomfort. “Making them or filling them. Practice those rusty skills on me, Brady Finn. Tell me how you ended up working for Stephen. The long version, with complete sentences, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Brady’s nod was sharp. “I suppose you could say I was looking for an alternative employment opportunity. Expectations aside, I needed to find my own way. When Stephen called me in and told me about his dilemma, I figured I could lend a hand instead of going stir crazy, so I signed on temporarily as his body man.”

“And as quickly as that, a new nickname is born,” she quipped. “Hot Body Man.”

Expectations aside. She knew what he was referring to. The Finn brothers she’d grown up around—Owen, Stephen and Seamus—were successful, relatively stable businessmen. Owen had his own construction company, Stephen had been the district attorney for a hot minute before running for political office and his twin Seamus had just officially taken over the family pub from their father. Before that he’d been a handyman. Their cousins on the other hand—Brady’s brothers—were cops and firemen. One was an EMT. They were all adrenaline junkies with hero complexes and a possible uniform fetish.

She could understand why Brady, who’d spent four extended tours in a warzone in a uniform of his own, might want to avoid that kind of lifestyle for a while. Politics was cutthroat and demanding, but your life wasn’t always on the line. Other people’s lives weren’t in immediate danger.

Unless a senator decided to do something reckless. Something that required a damn bodyguard.

Brady grimaced at the nickname. “Let’s not repeat that to anyone.”

“We’ll see. Speaking of sex…”

“Were we?”

She nodded. “We were. Ninety percent of the time, civilians are either thinking about it, talking about it, or doing it. They did a study.”

“It’s not just civilians,” Brady muttered, making her laugh.

“Speaking of sex, I saw the way Stephen’s assistant, a Mr. Calvin Grimes, was looking at you before we left. I know for a fact he’s out. Are you?”

He tensed in momentary surprise, but didn’t pretend not to understand her question. “Observant as well as liberated, aren’t you?”

“I am. I have exceptional instincts about carnal appetites and preferences for baked goods. You look like a spiced apple pie kind of guy. Patriotic, with unexpectedly zesty undertones.”

Brady dipped his chin, his grin restrained but genuine. “I’ve been out since high school. To my family, at any rate. So is Rory, if you’re curious. I won’t go into how retired chief of police Solomon Finn Sr. handled the news that two of his six strapping Irish sons were gay. Let’s just say we were all surprised at how well Uncle Shawn took Owen’s bombshell. Surprised and jealous. And for the record, I wouldn’t turn down any type of pie.”

“Good to know.” She kicked off her sandals and patted the space beside her on the bed. “Now we can gossip freely about Grimes and the big plans he obviously has to climb his boss’s new bodyguard like a jungle gym.”

Brady snorted, but sat down. “He can have all the plans he wants. It won’t be happening. He’s not my type.”

“Why?”

“Man’s a fast talker. Pushy. A real climber.” Brady studied his hands. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s attractive and good at his job, but other than that…”

“No, I get it.” She knew exactly what he was talking about. A lot of the people around Stephen were like that. Men and women who never stopped talking but rarely said anything genuine. Unfortunately, it came with his job.

Brady Finn wanted something real.

“You and Jeremy have that in common. He wasn’t into settling for less either. Of course his version of not settling was a little slutty, which I can say because we’re so much alike and I’m partially responsible for his impressive track record. Not entirely responsible, mind you. Those comic book conventions he goes to give new meaning to the term wild rumpus. Sadly, I suspect that not only are you not bi, you’re also more of a traditionalist in the romance department.”

“Three for three. Do you read palms at that bakery?” He leaned on his elbow beside her, his smile bemused, but he was finally starting to relax. “I’m still in shock about the whole Jeremy thing, to be honest. I mean, I always knew he had it bad for Owen. But it was just as clear that my cousin was oblivious. Talk about the last person on the planet I’d have ever guessed was gay. My most recent relationship, if you could call it that, was with a tough-as-nails leatherneck with more testosterone than brain cells, and I was less surprised when he made a pass at me than I was to find out the family skirt chaser had settled down with a man.”

“Don’t call Owen gay to his face,” Tasha advised. “He hates labels.”

Brady grimaced. “He should get used to it, because other people love them.”

And wasn’t that the damn truth.

“He’s happy though, right? I mean, what? Over six months now?”

“Yes. And of course he’s happy. Jeremy’s a catch. A talented artist, a sex god with super-sized equipment, endless stamina and the patience of a saint.” Her smile softened when she thought about Owen and Jeremy together. “We’ve been friends most of our lives and I’ve never seen either one of them this…complete.”

“It must be nice,” Brady mused. “Being with someone who knows you so well. Someone you can trust.”

“It must be.” She nodded, knowing she’d thought the same thing more than once. “They’re one of those couples now, the ones who can have a whole conversation with a single glance. They’re also the ones that disappear from the room to get extra plates and show up thirty minutes later with their shirts on inside out, acting as if nothing happened. You really need a front row seat to appreciate it.”

“Something to look forward to.”

His words confirmed that he hadn’t seen them yet. It wasn’t that unusual. No one saw the Finn cousins that often. They lived in the same city but they’d gone to different schools, hung out at different bars, and unless it was an important celebration or a true life-and-death emergency, they rarely got together.

She remembered Owen telling her something about an ongoing disagreement between the elder Finn twins, Shawn and Sol. It must have been one whopper of a fight to have this kind of lasting effect on such family-oriented men.

“When our caper is over,” she said, “I’m going to bring you over to their place for dinner and you can see for yourself. Maybe we can invite a few of your brothers. It’s better than a night at the movies, I promise.”

“I’d like that. It would do us all some good to see true love in action. We didn’t grow up with it the way our cousins did.” Brady’s gray-blue eyes darkened. “But our caper is serious business, Tasha. Don’t make the mistake of thinking it isn’t.”

“I won’t.”

“I think the feds must be desperate to be this irresponsible with Stephen’s welfare and reputation. He’s basically throwing his future to the wolves and hoping for the best here. Burke is bad news. If he sniffs you out before he makes Stephen a solid offer…if you can’t dance to his tune…”

She understood his concern, even shared it. But once Stephen made up his mind, there was no changing it. The Finns were all like that. Stubborn. “Trust me, Hot Body Man—men like Burke? I know their tune by heart. You two couldn’t have picked a better partner in crime. Stick with me and I’ll have him too distracted to remember his fourth wife’s name. What is her name anyway?”

“Wendi, with an i.” The familiar voice in the doorway made Tasha jump. “Am I interrupting?”

Brady frowned as if surprised he hadn’t heard Stephen coming, and he moved to get up. Tasha placed a hand on his arm and batted her lashes at Stephen. “Only my wicked daydreams, Senator. Too bad you two are related. We could have pretended to be poly and really put on a show.”

The former Marine’s ears turned an adorable shade of red before he bounced off the bed and stood beside Stephen. “No one followed us. Now that you’re here, I’ll do a sweep of the block and then I need to run back to my place to grab my bag.”

Stephen nodded. “I got word on the way home that we’ll be picked up tomorrow afternoon, so no hurry. We’ll save some dinner for you.”

They listened to his footsteps fade, Stephen leaning against the doorframe, her still reclining on the bed.

The silence and his proximity were getting to her already. He wasn’t moving any closer, not even when they heard the front door close behind Brady. And his expression was impossible to read.

“So this is a new record for us.”

He raised one eyebrow. “What is?”

“Alone, twice in one day. Both of us still wearing our clothes. Talking.”

She expected him to laugh. Wanted him to. She wasn’t ready for the flash of regret in his eyes. “Natasha…”

Her smile didn’t feel convincing, but she used it like a shield, getting to her feet and reaching for one of her bags. “You’re too easy to tease, Senator. Did you say something about dinner? Brady and I split a sandwich and a few brownies while I was packing, but that was hours ago. I’m hoping you brought something more substantial.”

“Yes,” he replied in a subdued tone. “It needs a reheat in the oven, but I think you’ll approve.”

“Great.” She grabbed the faded, stretched-out jersey and pair of shorts. “Why don’t you go make that happen while I change out of this dress? I’m not sure if you noticed, but it’s a little snug across the girls and it’s been cutting off my circulation all day.”

She put her hands behind her back and started lowering the zipper of her sundress without waiting for him to leave. Stephen swallowed as he watched the fabric loosen around her breasts. He took an instinctive step forward and Tasha tilted her head in question, her heart starting to pound in anticipation. “Or is that enough record breaking for one day?”

He stilled, then turned and disappeared down the stairs without a word. Tasha held in her disappointment, letting her dress pool around her ankles. She understood his hesitation. The situation was new and neither one of them knew how to behave. She was feeling it too. Along with all the old vulnerability she’d suffered after their initial short-lived relationship.

God, she’d been crazy for him then. Crazy and terrified that he’d realize what she’d known after their first night together—that she didn’t fit into the future he was mapping out for himself. He wanted to change the world. Wanted to redeem himself and make a difference. First law, then politics. His professors had already introduced him to influential people who could see the potential in the charismatic college student with the made-for-television biography. Local delinquent with deep roots in the community makes good. Solid family background, handsome face, sharp mind…Stephen Finn was a star on the rise.

Tasha knew how it would end before it had even begun. A reformed bad boy politician was sexy. The addition of an unrepentant bad girl on his arm wasn’t as marketable. Especially when that girl’s family tree had more than a few questionable apples.

They never would have lasted. She was too impulsive, too much of a lightning rod to be the kind of woman he needed at his side. If she’d stayed long enough for him to see that, maybe even resent her for it, she would have been asking for heartbreak. So she’d hidden her feelings away and taken the out he’d offered. Friends with benefits. Or more accurately, acquaintances with occasional, secret perks.

Secret was the word of the day.

It was the elephant in the room they were going to have to deal with before the party. Hiding their attraction in public had become a deeply ingrained habit for both of them. For this pretense to work they’d have to set aside years of restraint and be natural with each other. Be lovers.

Lovers knew each other’s body language and moods, a million little things that a man like Burke would notice if he was looking. The kind of lovers Stephen was expecting them to be required a level of intimacy and trust they didn’t have with each other. Tasha knew exactly how to swivel her hips to take him to the edge in seconds and Stephen knew that all he had to do was touch her to set her off—but that wasn’t enough. Not for this.

They weren’t going into this as strangers, which was a plus. They had more chemistry than they knew what to do with and a lifetime of Finn family gatherings to draw from. But they only had tonight to get their stories straight and get physically comfortable enough that they didn’t tense up every time their hands touched.

It was a tough job, but somebody had to do him.

It. Somebody had to do it.