Blaine, Destiny - Breakfast by the Sea (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Destiny Blaine

  “What do you want us to do?” Connor yelled from the beach, interrupting his gaping.

  “Get out there and get her!” Adam paced three steps and stopped. He turned, paced three more, and stopped again. “All of you!”

  By the time the team was in the water, Adam noticed a boat moving too fast, closing in on Paige. “Hurry up!” The tickling sensation on the back of his neck warned him of things to come. They couldn’t get her out of this. If those in the boat were there to fish a beauty out of water, they wouldn’t have interference from them. They weren’t prepared, and Paige was too far out.

  Damn her! They weren’t prepared. Again.

  The speedboat circled her. Adam could hear some hooping and hollering. The passengers on the boat must’ve carried a few young guys hoping to get a closer view of that nice rack Paige carried around. God help them all if this is what they had to put up with for three months. They’d get a lot accomplished on this mission, all right—a lot of fucking—something he hadn’t enjoyed in a long, long time.

  A few minutes passed and Adam watched as Connor made his way to shore with one mad-as-hell woman. “Put me down!” she screamed, kicking her legs and waving her arms around like a provoked wet hen.

  “Carry her to the house,” Adam said when a smiling Connor appeared on deck.

  Adam tried to remain composed. It was an effort to avoid reaching out and smacking her smooth round bottom when Connor tossed her over his shoulder, though he somehow resisted. The one thing he couldn’t escape was a damned-ass erection.

  Snarling, he ignored the team snickers when they passed him. What had changed him? He’d been one of the good guys. He’d been a rock to his men. A lot of good that did, huh? His missions took him out of town, and while he worked, his ex-wife strayed. Rumor had it, she wandered around a lot.

  Pushing aside the guilt, he turned around and stared at Paige’s backside once more. What the hell? He had no reason to be ashamed. He was a single man. He could look. He could touch. And oh, mercy, if she kept this kind of behavior up—he could fuck. And he might do just that.

  “Set. Me. Down!”

  “Let her go!” Adam exclaimed, rushing up behind them and avoiding the instant glares from Callan and Connor.

  Miles smirked. “He walks. He breathes. He’s ready to live again. Ladies and gentlemen, introducing Adam Bales, the new and improved single man from the great state of Tennessee!”

  “Take her upstairs,” Adam ordered, gaping at Paige and ignoring Miles. “Put her in my room. When she can behave, we’ll let her go back to yours.”

  “His room?” she squealed. “Behave?”

  “Yes.” Connor gave her thigh a sharp pinch.

  “Ouch! Don’t do that!” She twisted and turned in his arms. “I said let me go!”

  Adam nodded. Connor dumped her body at his feet.

  She landed with a thud. “Ow!”

  “Give us a minute,” Adam said, retrieving a towel from the bathroom. “And Callan, see if you can’t find that pretty sports bra Paige discarded.”

  Paige glared at him. She covered her breasts with her hands, but he’d already seen plenty. Now he was focused on that poofy patch of pubic hair, wondering if those damp curls were wet from the salt water or her excitement.

  When his men disappeared, Adam sat next to Paige, and only then did he offer her the large beach towel. Draping the material over her shoulders, he eased the linen under her chestnut hair, watching as the curls tumbled down her back. Her tanned skin looked like light milk chocolate sprinkled with cane sugar, compliments of the sand dusting her cheeks. Paige was destined to give his team a real run for their money. Adam wasn’t sure if he should smile or snarl.

  “We need to have a talk.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to dress first.”

  “Actually, I do mind,” he said, brushing away the white particles from her chin. “You don’t have a problem parading around here naked, and I don’t have a hard time sitting next to a woman who has plenty to flaunt.”

  Paige yanked the towel over her all at once.

  Callan returned with Paige’s bra and shorts. He was seething, and rightfully so. She’d pulled the wool over his eyes and escaped on his watch, not something an Irish lad took lightly.

  “Give us a few minutes,” Adam said.

  “Are you okay?” Callan asked grimly, placing two fingers under her chin and tilting her head toward him.

  “I’m fine,” she snapped.

  Callan winked. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

  Adam wondered then if Callan was still playing the part of potential concerned lover, or did he find her irresistible and attractive? Adam felt a gut-wrenching sensation. He should’ve assumed the role of Paige’s confidant himself.

  Paige would likely confide in Adam before the others. He was older, smarter, the clear leader of this team, and better looking, of course. Or so he’d been told—by his lying, cheating, hateful bitch of an ex-wife. Okay, so he’d leave it at older and wiser. He was still in charge, which meant if he wanted Paige in his room, she’d stay in his room.

  “You’ll be spending the night with me until we make sure we can trust you.” Adam called the shots. He could change his mind. He was paid mighty well to make last-minute decisions.

  He marveled in more wonder. What else might he be paid to do?

  “I’d like for you and your team of cowboys to vacate the premises,” she said tightly.

  “We’re not leaving.”

  “You misled me. I thought you were on a vacation from the rodeo. Clearly, you work for the government.”

  “We aren’t part of any military operation. We’re independent contractors.”

  “You’re murderers! Anyone can see that!”

  “Someone who has had the occasion to deal with unscrupulous individuals might make that unfair assumption, but the average person wouldn’t blurt out such an accusation, Paige. Who are you?” He set his jaw and shook her shoulders. “Damn it, woman, who do you work for!”

  Her eyes went cold. Staring back at him wasn’t the same woman he’d met hours earlier. Instead, he saw a woman of different colors, a lady who had a checkered past. He wondered. Had she provoked and angered the wrong brutal enemy or did she stand with criminals, maybe even the vicious animals he’d been hired to track down?

  “You’d better start talking, lady. I don’t have a lot of patience.”

  “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

  His grip tightened. “You’d better rethink that because if you don’t, I’ll snap your dainty little neck and leave your corpse for forensics to fill in the blanks.”

  Her gaze narrowed, and in a nearly programmed tone, she said, “I’m Paige Lambert. I inherited this bed and breakfast from my father after he died in a car accident coming back from Savannah. I’m forty-one. I’ve been…married…sort of. I have no surviving children.”

  “Sort of married?” What did that mean, exactly? Did she say “I do” and then kill the groom or something? Adam released his grip. “No surviving children?”

  “Don’t ask. It’s not open for discussion.”

  “I’m sorry.” When had he last apologized for anything? Why had Paige taken hold of him in such a way that he felt a sense of urgency to protect her? Better yet, why would he think she needed his protection after what he’d witnessed earlier that day?

  “I won’t accept your money. It’s dirty money. I’ve been around the block enough to know that I don’t want you here. I’d like for you to leave.”

  Too bad. They weren’t going anywhere.

  “We paid. We handed you the briefcase. You wanted to fix our lunch, take a swim, entice my men, and do everything you could in your power to distract us, and now there’s no way in hell we’re leaving. You wanted our attention. You earned it. We’re staying. In fact, I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be than right here. This is a great location for our team, and I have a feeling it’s the perfect way to hide in plain sight.”


  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You have an interesting lifestyle for a woman. If you’ve been able to use this place as a safe haven, I have a feeling my team will be real comfortable here. Of course, I’ll do everything in my power to protect you from yourself, and you may need a bodyguard around the clock. But I’m prepared to handle you with kid gloves.”

  “I don’t want anything from you.”

  “Too bad, darlin’. A briefcase full of your cash payment sealed this deal. My men were guaranteed room, board, and breakfast by the sea. We don’t have the time to change our operation in order to pacify a disgruntled innkeeper.”

  “I am not a—”

  “Yes you are, and apparently you’re also a sexually frustrated innkeeper.”

  She raised her open palm to slap him but Adam caught her forearm before she delivered the blow. “Let me guess, Connor failed to give you a list of the rules we expect you to follow?”

  “You may have rented rooms but you didn’t rent me by the hour.”

  “Oh, no?”

  “No,” she said firmly.

  “Maybe I can change that. Give me a rate and I’ll run it by my supervisor. If we’re staying here for ninety days, we might as well have some form of entertainment.”

  That’s when she slapped him. And, well, he deserved it.

  Chapter Four

  Paige was biting nails. Her bed and breakfast had been chosen as the command post of some secretive operation, and if she cared to guess why, Ramone was to blame. Ramone was always behind the chaos in her life.

  Earlier, Adam had made it perfectly clear. His team didn’t plan on checking out until they were good and ready to leave. They’d outstayed their welcome within the first twelve hours. How could she survive ninety days with a bunch of domineering, egotistical men?

  Callan brought her dinner—two slices of mushroom pizza. She was beginning to think she’d become a prisoner in her own home.

  “Sorry it’s cold,” he began explaining. “We went over some new intel, and your microwave must require the expertise of a genius. We couldn’t figure out how to work the darn thing.”

  “I can pick off the frost.”

  He studied the pizza slices on her bone-white china plate.

  “I’m kidding,” she said. “May I use the microwave myself?”

  “Unfortunately, we’ve taken over your kitchen for the night. All appliances are temporarily unavailable. We needed the area for our computers.”

  “Terrific,” she muttered, taking a hearty bite. “Tell me the refrigerator isn’t one such appliance.”

  “No,” he said. “We had to keep the beer cold.”

  “I’d kill for a beer.”

  “Would you kiss for one?” he asked, dimples claiming his upper cheeks. Callan was a cutie pie, a real good-looking young man, but far too young for her. Prior to life-changing events and life with Ramone, Paige had liked her men young, but this one probably still slept in a cradle with a baby monitor and his pacifier nearby.

  She finished chewing the remnants of a mushroom, savoring the texture like she might swallow a jagged little pill. “A little smooching, huh?” She tugged the bottle cap from the plastic water container and said, “We’ll do a little kissing after we do a little drinking.”

  “You’re on,” he said, eyeing the bedside clock. “I’ll be right back.”

  When Callan disappeared down the hallway, Paige noticed the time, too. It was a little after nine. Maybe she’d have enough time to find out more about their mission. If she could get an Irishman to drink, she could get an Irishman to talk.

  If Paige spared a guess, Adam wouldn’t make his way upstairs before midnight. Since he stood out as the man in charge, he was probably the last one to fall in bed and the first to rise in the morning.

  Bed.

  She shivered. Did they really expect her to sleep with a total stranger?

  “Get over yourself,” she said aloud. “Since when does sleeping with merciless killers bother me?”

  “Damn, woman, I like a gal who gets right down to business. But I’m not a killer, for the record.”

  Connor. Great. Talking to self? Very stupid. “Like hell you’re not.”

  “Call me as you see me. You’ll eventually change your mind.”

  “How would you describe yourself?”

  “As someone who protects his country and fellow citizens, as a man who seeks justice for horrific crimes committed. That’s who I am.”

  “You’re a contracted killer. I know an assassin when I see one.”

  “Then you should take a closer look. I’ve killed, but that doesn’t make me a killer.”

  “Your employer gives you carte blanche, a license to get rid of people your government officials don’t want standing trial for various crimes they’ve committed. Would you like to know why? I’ll tell you.

  “They fear the court of law won’t hand down a punishment great enough. When you hunt your targets, you’re no better than an executioner. You’re looking for a man or woman you fully intend to kill. And when you find them, you become judge and jury.”

  “Someone’s filled your head with garbage.”

  “No, someone, presumably your boss, has given you a God complex. You don’t care to hear anyone else’s viewpoints. The way you believe is the only way. For all you know, you could be hunting down an innocent person. That makes no difference to you. What matters to you is that you make a decision when the target dies. It’s your choice, and no one can stand in your way.

  “You convince yourself it’s okay to pull the trigger because it’s fair. It’s just. It’s an eye for an eye, and that’s the way your system of checks and balances works—you keep score with human life. Then, because you’re you and you’re on some kind of sacred team, you stand here in my face and tell me you’re not a killer.”

  Connor took a deep breath. “I’d rather talk about something else.”

  “I’m sure you would.”

  “So tell me something.” He paused, moved closer. “As you were saying earlier about sleeping with killers….does that mean we all get lucky or just Adam?”

  “I was thinking out loud.”

  “I like where that train of thought was heading.”

  She pushed her annoying long hair behind her shoulders and shoved the slice of pizza in her mouth. “I’ve got a question for you,” she began, going for the talking-with-a-mouthful-of-food-is-anything-but-sexy look, “are you convinced you’re the world’s greatest lover?”

  “Where’d that come from?”

  “Answer the question.”

  He copped a wide smile, the kind of grin certain to make a lot of women melt. “Since you asked, are you interested in an experiment?”

  “No. Remember, you’re here to do a job.”

  “What if you are the job?” Connor approached the edge of the bed where she sat. His right knee landed against her left leg. His gaze landed at her chest. Men were such predictable pigs.

  Unfortunately, where Connor was concerned, he was the pot-belly pig without the pouch, the kind of creature all women ooh and ah over regardless of their breed’s reputation. Sure enough, she pegged Connor’s MO. She didn’t need dual degrees in anatomy and psychology to figure him out. He was an arrogant chauvinist. But he was still fine as hell.

  “Put the plate down,” he said gruffly.

  “I’m hungry.”

  He remained focused on the prize, eying her breasts like he couldn’t wait to bury his face between them. Typical to a fault, all right. Well, at least with Connor, she knew what to expect.

  “I said, put…the plate…down.” He took the dish from her hand and slid the china on the nightstand. When he repositioned himself to a towering frontal advantage, he looked her eyeball to eyeball. “You need to learn some manners.”

  “I’ve been the owner of this bed and breakfast for a number of years. If you’re complaining about the hospitality, you’ll be the first.”

  “I am,�
� he said, guttural longing thick in his tone. “But I like being first. It suits me.”

  She swallowed once. Forget the beer. She’d kill for that bottled water, anything to keep her lips busy, moist, and away from Connor.

  His dry chuckle broke up her inner desire to whet her whistle. Connor scooped her up by her ribcage and dragged her body under his, watching her intently, expecting, perhaps, another battle for common ground. This was one of those times when a man deserved cracked nuts. Instead, she decided to play, make nice with the little bad boy.

  She licked her bottom lip and worked her seduction like her body belonged to him and him alone. “You going to kiss me or stare at my mouth like you’re waiting for the end of time, you know, just so I can’t make fun of you if you don’t get it right?”

  Connor rubbed his thumb over her mouth, stroking around the shape of her lips. She bit at the pad and ran her tongue over his barely there fingernail. When he released a growl, a low moan seeped into the room like one strike against a hollow drum.

  “You’re dangerous,” he said.

  “Then you’d better follow that killer instinct of yours and run like hell.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” he admitted, pausing long enough to dip his head. “But what fun would that be?”

  His lips crashed against hers. Heat passed between them and incredible white-hot sensations charred her body from the inside out, if only for a split second. And as quickly as he stamped her with his kiss, the intrusion of another warm body beside them alerted her to the fact they were not alone.

  “Hit the road, Connor.”

  “Fuck!” Connor pushed away from the mattress all at once. “Adam, you’re transparent as all hell.”

  “Maybe,” he said, shrugging. “But you and Callan are out of here. Jeff is waiting for you in Hilton Head. He needs a ride.”

  “Can’t he rent a car like everyone else?”

  “No,” Adam retorted. “We’re on a budget, remember?”

  “Budget, hell,” Connor snapped, backing away from the bed.

  Paige’s head was spinning. What just happened? She’d invited trouble and apparently the invitation would inevitably garner regrets, no thanks to the boss in charge.