The Naughty Nine: Where Danger and Passion Collide

by Nina Bruhns

  Although she didn’t know specifics of the Special Ops missions, she knew the men were highly classified and trained, extremely dangerous, and among the elite, the best of the best.

  They would do anything for their country.

  Just as the general would.

  How could a girl not admire that kind of loyalty, dedication and bravery?

  Except that loyalty didn’t always carry over to their personal lives. Soldiers were notorious for working hard, playing hard and being married to the job. And they essentially lived a life full of lies.

  They were deployed on top-secret assignments for months at a time, unable to tell their families where they were stationed or what they were doing. Granted they sacrificed for the greater good, but still they left their loved ones in the dark to worry and fret and drive themselves crazy wondering if the man they loved was dead or alive. Or worse, being tortured in some inhuman way.

  No, her eyes were wide open. She’d lived that agony with her mother. The months, the years of being alone, of holidays spent heartsick and afraid, of the constant threat...

  She would never ever ever get involved with a soldier.

  He doesn’t want to get involved. He’s just doing his job. And probably not too happy himself about having to babysit you either.

  The doorbell dinged again. A loud knock followed, punctuated by Sergeant Murdock’s gruff voice. “Miss Woods. Open the door.”

  Willow tightened her resolve. “Good night, Sergeant Murdock.”

  “Open the door, Miss Woods, or I’ll break it down.”

  Fury railed through her. But she didn’t want a scene or to have someone call the police, so she jerked open the door. At the sight of his hunky body in that uniform, a wave of heat washed over her, and she decided she’d have to crank up the air conditioner.

  Annoyed at him for making her think about real sex when she was supposed to be on the phone doling out phony sex, she forced a saccharine smile. After all, she was becoming a pro at faking it. “I thought you were going to be fine out there.”

  His gaze hardened to steel. “I will. But first I need to check your security.”

  Willow sighed, knowing he wouldn’t like what he found. Because the only security she had was a deadbolt and her lazy cat Teensy who slept on her bed twenty-three out of twenty-four hours of the day.

  “I’m on the second floor,” Willow said. “It would be hard to break in without someone noticing.”

  A muscle in his jaw ticked as he stepped inside the foyer. “Look, Miss Woods. I realize you don’t want me here, and trust me, this is not where I’d planned to spend my leave.”

  Willow winced. So he was missing his precious time off to guard her. She almost felt sorry for him. Maybe he had a family, a wife or a child at home wishing he was on his way to them.

  Or maybe he had a lover—or more than one—ready to tear that uniform off his delicious body.

  “Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he said, oblivious to her lustful thoughts. “You can refuse to let me examine the premises, which I will be forced to relay to your father. But since your safety is of the utmost importance to him, otherwise he wouldn’t have assigned me to guard you, I’m certain he will send reinforcements.”

  Good heavens no. She couldn’t have a whole team of these overbearing uniforms surrounding her.

  Her BCP buzzed again, and she bit her lip to stifle a dirty word. He was costing her big time now. She’d missed two calls already!

  She might as well let him in. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner she could return to work.

  But she wasn’t happy about it, and she relayed that feeling with a withering look. “All right. Do your job.”

  His sigh sounded tinged with relief and a faint hint of exhaustion, making her wonder if he’d just come off a mission. Had he been in danger? Injured? Held prisoner?

  Did he need some TLC?

  Her chest clenched, and she mentally chastised herself. It didn’t matter if he did.

  She had her own life to think of. And the sooner she got rid of him, the sooner she could get back to it.

  But his masculine chest brushed hers as he entered, and need rippled through her. How could she possibly sleep tonight knowing he was outside her door? Knowing that his touch could bring her mindless pleasure?

  But one night wouldn’t be worth it. And if the general found out...

  She flipped the knob on the air conditioner and was relieved by a cold blast of air. She had to resist and send him back outside.

  After all, her last tuition payment was paid, but she still owed rent for the summer.

  Once she landed a job in her field, she could quit the side business, and no one would ever know about Sweet Talk.

  * * *

  Max dropped his duffel bag inside the door as he strode into Willow’s apartment. He quickly sized it up and found it lacking security wise. The old white house had been converted into apartments, three on the bottom floor, two on the top, and he’d spotted a side entrance with stairs that opened up only a few feet away from Willow’s door.

  A side entrance that any dingbat or child could break into.

  Wishing Willow would put on some clothes so he could stop fantasizing about her luscious skin against his own, he jerked his eyes from her and studied the entrance. “Flimsy locks.”

  “There’s a deadbolt,” she pointed out lamely.

  “Whoever threatened your father may be highly trained and could pick it blindfolded.”

  A sliver of suspicion flickered in her eyes for a brief second. “Why does the general think I’m in danger?”

  Interesting that she’d called him the general instead of her father. “He didn’t give me specifics.”

  “Right, a need-to-know basis.”

  He arched a brow. “He did say he was afraid they’d come after you to get to him.”

  She folded her arms, but he noticed a slight shiver, and protective instincts kicked in. Had someone hurt her before to get to her father?

  “It’s happened before?” he asked.

  Unease settled in her eyes as she stared at him, then she gave a brief nod.

  That information explained the general’s reaction as well as hers.

  Max waited a second to see if she’d offer more, but a closed look settled on her face, and he decided not to pry. He didn’t want to know more about her or feel sorry for her or God forbid, like her, so he continued his perusal of the apartment.

  His first observation as he glanced at the living room/kitchen combination was that Willow was not a neat freak. A surprise since she’d grown up with a military father.

  Or maybe not. Maybe the chaos was a way of rebelling against the general.

  In fact, clutter filled the room. Some interesting clutter, though.

  A pair of sexy, red high heels had been kicked off near the fireplace, and a garter dangled from a corner chair. CDs by soulful artists, a lingerie catalog open and revealing S&M attire, a book of erotic poems and a manual on various sexual positions with a graphic cover.

  His pulse spiked a notch.

  But he forced himself to look away and saw a towel and sweatshirt thrown over the end of the treadmill. A coffee cup, empty water bottle and a vitamin water bottle sat on the coffee table, a glass of wine beside them along with an opened bag of miniature Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. From the looks of the dozens of wrappers littering the tops of the magazines scattered on the table, she’d been gorging on the candy.

  A desk in the corner held her laptop, papers piled around it, the trash can overflowing.

  “I’ve been working on a final paper,” she said as if defending her habits.

  He didn’t comment. He simply walked over and checked the double windows. One lock was broken. The other window was painted shut.

  Next he examined the sliding glass door, a nightmare in itself.

  “I keep that stick in there at night so no one can get in.”

  Seriously. “This place is n
ot safe.”

  She stiffened, her eyes narrowing to ferocious little slits as if he’d insulted her. “This is not a high crime neighborhood.”

  “I’ll install new locks first thing tomorrow, and set you up with a security system.”

  Willow shifted, looking jittery. Why wouldn’t she want a security system? The general would be more than happy to foot the bill.

  He gritted his teeth. She was probably spoiled and just wanted to be difficult. “Now, your bedroom?”

  A sigh of disgust escaped her, but she led him into a hall and gestured to the bedroom and bath. He hesitated. Her bedroom seemed so personal, eliciting images he didn’t need in his head.

  But he had to check it out.

  More sliding glass door led to another small patio. The lock was broken and another stick was jammed at the bottom.

  Willow’s impatience registered as she tapped her sneaker up and down on the floor.

  Ignoring her, he took his time, noting the dainty perfume bottles on her vanity, the scent of roses lingering in the air, and the deep purple tones of the room. This room screamed femininity, but the sultry scents also triggered his arousal.

  Hell, of course they would. He’d been eating dust and living off rations for months.

  Suddenly he saw her naked on those sheets. Her sports bra and shorts discarded, her wild, unruly hair falling loosely around her bare shoulders. Her breasts would be heavy and full, her curves decadent, her lean, muscular legs opening for him.

  He pictured himself taking her against the wall, and heat coursed through his blood. Other scenarios flashed in his head. He’d take her face-up on the floor, face-down, maybe on that chaise in the corner wearing nothing but those red high heels...

  “Look, I really need to get back to my paper,” Willow said, although he could have sworn he heard her breath hitch and wondered if she’d read his mind.

  A fat yellow cat with so much fur you could hardly see his face lay curled on the vanity stool and popped his head up.

  “No guard dog?”

  She rubbed the fur ball between his ears. “No, just Teensy.”

  “Teensy?” He grunted. “That cat is so fat I’m surprised it can even walk.”

  She shot a defensive look toward the animal. “He was so little when I rescued him from the Humane Society that he could fit in the palm of my hand.”

  “I suppose if someone breaks in, he’ll scratch his eyes out.”

  She lifted the wad of fat and nuzzled him, and the cat purred like an engine. “Actually he’s declawed.”

  “Of course he is.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, irritated that he was jealous of her cat because she was rubbing its belly. “Do you have a weapon?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You mean, a gun?”

  He shot her a wry look. “Yes, a gun.”

  “No...but I have pepper spray.”

  “At least that’s something.” He’d keep that in mind and not sneak up on her.

  A satin comforter draped an iron bed, overflowing with plump pillows that looked decadent. It was a bed waiting for sinful lovers to wallow in. One he imagined throwing her down on, tearing off her clothes and crawling on top of her.

  A bed he could sink into and sleep like the dead for days.

  But no, the hard floor in the hall awaited.

  A phone jangled and Willow jumped, then glanced at it guiltily.

  “Okay, Sergeant. You’ve seen it, you can come back tomorrow and install extra locks.”

  The phone jangled again and she motioned to the door.

  “Aren’t you going to answer that?” he asked.

  She tucked a strand of that wavy auburn hair back into her ponytail. “I’ll call him back.”

  “How do you know it’s a him?”

  “Ring tone,” she said a little too lightly.

  “Boyfriend?”

  Her blue eyes flashed with that panicked look again. “That’s none of your business.”

  He took a step toward her, moving so close he smelled her shampoo, so close he saw her tremble slightly. The instinct to comfort her hit him. “If you are in danger, it is.”

  “If,” she said, punctuating the word. “Until then, my life is a need-to-know basis.”

  He couldn’t hold back a grin. “Touché.”

  The phone continued to jangle. “Mind if I use your latrine before I settle down in that plush hallway?”

  A small smile curved her mouth, and he was glad he’d broken the tension. “I guess not.” She raked her gaze over his uniform, and jiggled her leg up and down, the smile fading. “But for cripe’s sakes, while you’re at it, take off that uniform.”

  He couldn’t resist. He wanted to throw her off balance the way she was throwing him off balance, so he lowered his voice to a gruff pitch. “Is that an invitation?”

  “No,” she stuttered.

  “You don’t like uniforms, Willow?”

  Her gaze met his, and for a moment a frisson of something sensual flashed into the depths. Some spark that made his body harden and his blood sizzle with primal instincts.

  But it disappeared as quickly as it had come. “No, I...I mean I don’t care. I just thought you might be more comfortable.”

  “I’d be more comfortable on your couch or in a bed,” he murmured.

  Willow backed up. “No way you’re getting in my bed, Sergeant.”

  The finality in her statement cut him to the bone. Of course she assumed he’d want to sleep with her. Any man would.

  But he couldn’t let her see him as anything other than her protector. “Who said I wanted to get in it with you?”

  Hurt crossed her face momentarily, and he realized he’d gone too far. If she reported his bad behavior to her father, his butt would be in major trouble.

  “Just use the restroom and go.” With a haughty look, she turned and hurried back to the living room, her hips swaying. Knowing he had only a minute to act, he removed the bug he’d brought and slid it beneath the bedside table.

  When he entered the living room to grab his duffel, she was gobbling down another Reese’s cup and checking her phone log for messages. He inwardly groaned at the sight of her tongue licking chocolate off her finger.

  Then she flicked that finger toward the door, giving him the signal.

  Of course, she couldn’t wait to get rid of him.

  She had to call her boyfriend back. She was pissed that he’d cramped her style when her lover probably wanted to come over and crawl in that plush, purple bit of heaven with her.

  Dammit. He wanted to crawl in it with her, too.

  But she was an assignment.

  He had to remember that.

  Still, a seed of guilt nagged at him for invading her privacy with the bug.

  But he was a trained operative following orders from the general. And it was possible someone, a male probably, might have cozied up to her as a friend or lover, in order to get close to her—and use her to get to her father.

  He’d stowed his gun in his duffel bag, but he hoped he didn’t need it.

  Still, he’d do whatever it took to keep her safe.

  Even if she hated him for it.

  * * *

  Willow hated Max Murdock for invading her home. She had her secrets and he could destroy her life if he discovered them.

  Her BCP jangled, and she snatched it, determined to dismiss the caller before the sexy sergeant emerged from the bathroom.

  “Hello—”

  “I want you, Willow,” a male voice murmured.

  Willow froze. This was her business line. None of the callers were supposed to know her real name.

  She checked the caller ID box, but it said UNKNOWN.

  “Don’t you want me?” he murmured.

  Perspiration beaded between her breasts. “Who is this?”

  His ragged breathing echoed back. “I love you, don’t you love me?”

  Maybe this was part of his fantasy. Most clients didn’t care about love—the naughty side of sex turned t
hem on. “Who is this?”

  “Your soul mate, Willow. We were meant to be together.”

  His tone made a chill creep up her spine. He sounded way too personal.

  Max’s footsteps sounded in the bathroom. “I have to go.” Hand trembling, Willow ended the call.

  But worry knotted her shoulders as she stared at the phone. How in the world had the caller found her real name?

  And if he knew her name, did he know where she lived?

  One Night to Kill: Chapter Three

  By the time the sex siren sergeant emerged from the bathroom, Willow had eaten so many Reese’s cups she was starting to feel queasy. Six was her self-imposed limit, ten was her record.

  She’d gorged on fifteen.

  Embarrassed to be caught pigging out, she tried to rake the wrappers into the trash, but he saw them anyway, so her stubborn streak kicked in, and she took her time tossing them away, desperately trying to tame her raging libido.

  And to calm the sliver of fear that crept through her at the call.

  Sure, she’d had strange requests and sensed icky sexual undertones before, but none of her callers had sounded…possessive.

  And they hadn’t known her name.

  Sex appeal oozed from the sergeant’s every pore as he approached her.

  At least he was out of that uniform. Except seeing him in a pair of military camouflage fatigues was just as unsettling. He had so much room in those pants that she wondered if he was wearing underwear beneath or just swimming around freely. That stirred images of his size and girth and what he could do with it, images she had no business envisioning.

  “Don’t you have any civilian clothes?” Willow snapped, irritated with herself, and irritated with him for being downright sexy.

  He clenched his duffel bag in his hand. “Yes, ma’am, but I’m on assignment.”

  “For God’s sake, just put on a pair of jeans!”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

  She was acting like a sex-crazed lunatic. “Oh, never mind.” Determined to get him out of her space before she suggested he shed his clothes altogether, she snagged his arm and pushed him toward the door. Trouble was, the moment her fingers closed around his bicep, she felt the thick-corded muscles in his arm, and her belly fluttered like it had when she was fifteen and she’d first touched Roney Mahoney, the star of the football team.