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Her question wasn’t a no.
“Uh-huh. We could do a boss fantasy,” he murmured, slipping his finger between her breasts. “I’ll buy a conference room table. We could combine it with soldier-comes-home.”
“How are you with the knight-in-shining-armor fantasy? You can worship me from afar and keep your hands to yourself.” She did up the last button on her blouse.
“Uh-uh,” he told her. “And, since I’m the boss, I get what I want.”
“Definitely a fantasy,” she said sweetly and held out her hand. “I want my panties back.”
Too bad for his sergeant she wasn’t getting what she wanted. Of course, since he wasn’t getting what he wanted, it seemed only fair.
11
CLOSING ON THE cottage turned out to be easy. Two weeks after she’d first laid eyes on the place, she was the proud possessor of a deed and two keys to the front door. The bank had also approved her home equity line, and she’d probably purchased enough supplies to open her own Home Depot store. Moving out of Tag’s place might have caused her a little pang somewhere in the region of her heart, but theirs had been a temporary arrangement.
Bought a house, she texted Laurel, knowing her cousin would be excited for her. Despite her love of bling, Laurel had chosen to sport a small-size rock on her ring finger because she and Jack were saving up for a down payment on a home. Trading carats for an extra bedroom had been an easy call.
Photos now! Laurel responded, and Mia spent the next half hour happily trading decorating ideas. When someone knocked on her door, she wasn’t prepared to see Tag standing there holding a box of painting supplies. She supposed he wanted to help. Bonus points for him.
“Are you the Welcome Wagon?” Because she could think of all sorts of ways—deliciously sexy, very naughty ways—to break in her new house. She hadn’t had her hands on Tag for almost twenty-four hours, and she was definitely going through serious withdrawal.
He waved the box at her. “I swung by the hardware store before I came here. Thought maybe you could use a hand...”
“Are you implying I don’t know how to paint my own walls?” Because, really, she was a modern woman. She knew her way around a toolbox—and YouTube.
He propped the box against his hip and grinned at her. “Have you painted interiors before?”
She had the internet. She’d repainted her bedroom in high school. Both of which made her fully qualified. She opened her mouth to say so, but then she got a good look at Tag. He was wearing a faded T-shirt and a ragged pair of blue jeans. God, she loved worn jeans on a guy. There was always the possibility his pants would just give out while he was lovingly bent over a paint can. A gal could hope.
She opened the door. “Come on in. It must be my lucky day.”
Yep. Suspicion filled his eyes. Maybe he’d sensed her rip-his-clothes-off fantasy. “What have you done with Mia?”
“Excuse me?”
He brushed past her when she didn’t move out of the door. “I didn’t expect you to agree. Not that quickly.”
Since he seemed determined to invade her house, she followed him, tugging at the back of his shirt. Which stayed firmly on his magnificent body, more was the pity. “I like free labor.”
He gave her The Look. “Now you’re taking advantage of me.”
She shrugged. Yeah...she probably was taking advantage here. However, she had a house to paint, and he was hot. That was called having her cake and eating it, too. “I’m perfectly happy to let you help me paint. The question is—what’s in it for you?”
“I’m just being a doting fiancé.” He flashed her a grin and nodded toward the living room. “Are we starting in there?”
The thing was, he wasn’t really her fiancé, and they both knew it. They had some kind of complicated pretend relationship going on, more like friends with benefits. She wasn’t really dating him or settling down with him or doing anything other than sleeping with him. And there wasn’t even much sleeping involved because she couldn’t seem to keep her hands off him. Nope, she was just passing herself off as his betrothed to get the good folks of Discovery Island off his back. Any pleasure she got out of the fantasy was pure bonus.
The former owner must have harbored a secret desire to open an art gallery, because the living room walls were dotted with holes from long-AWOL picture frames. After the tenth spackle-and-patch job, Tag looked over at her.
