Page 8 of Keeping Her Secrets

“What the fuck, Mari? Why would you say that?”

Ash’s angry expression at her words matched the harshness of his voice, and she laid her fork down, her appetite gone. “Because it’s true. You, you’re an American hero; Daniel is a British hero. You both have family who adore you, and friends who would grieve for you. I have a few people who would miss me for a few weeks, and then I’d be forgotten. I do this because I need to protect those that can’t protect themselves, and I’m the right person for the job.”

Shaken at her outburst, she stood and headed to the bedroom to pack the small bag she’d brought with her. Ash walked in behind her, and she ignored him as she tried to get her emotions under control.

“I wish you saw yourself the way others do. Paige practically lights up when she sees you, and Megan looks at you like she wants to be you, and yet you believe you’re worthless. I’d like to find the fuckers that made you feel that way and squeeze the fucking life out of them.”

Mustique didn’t speak for a second but turned to face him. “Well, you can’t because I did that a long time ago.” Her words were sharp, and she hated the shake in her hands as she said them. She’d never relived that night—at least not in her waking hours. No, that torture was saved for her nightmares.

“I do want your help, but I can’t drag Daniel into this. He has children, and I would never risk that, not for me, not for this. I’ll find another way.”

Ash stepped closer, and she looked up into his warm hazel eyes. “Wanna be my date for the wedding?” His smile was Hollywood bright and so sexy she wondered how she would resist him for even a few days.

“Are you wearing a tux?”

“I am.”

“Then, yes, I’ll be your date. Do I need a fancy dress?”

“I’m afraid so.” His eyes traveled the length of her in appraisal and Mustique felt heat scorching her skin everywhere his gaze touched.

“Can I have my gun back?” she asked, trying to deflect the effect he was having on her. She didn’t really need it; she had two others on her.

“Are you telling me a woman with your reputation doesn’t have a back-up weapon?”

“I have two back-ups, and three other weapons on me now.” Her breathing was shallow as he stepped even closer, until their bodies were almost touching.

“That is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Mustique felt his hand graze her thigh, and he watched her, waiting for her to stop him, but she seemed to have lost the power of speech. Without any objection from her, his hand skimmed higher, bunching her dress as he caressed the skin of her outer thigh. He groaned as he hit the first knife holster, and his arm came around her waist and pulled her to him.

“So fucking hot.”

Mustique’s hands landed on his chest, and she found her eyes drawn to his mouth—a mouth that could do wicked things. He leaned in and brushed his lips lightly over hers. It had barely been a whisper, but her heart was pounding in her chest, and desire pooled in her belly.

“You want me to kiss you?”

She did more than anything but admitting that would be opening herself up to pain when he walked away. “No.” she breathed.

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

His deep chuckle warmed her body, and she swayed, but then he was gone. His body a few feet away in the blink of an eye.

“Okay, let’s go dress shopping.”

Mustique looked at him in shock, unchecked desire still flooding her system, and if the bulge in his pants was anything to go by, he was no different. “What the fuck?”

“What? You said no. I’m respecting your boundaries. If you want me, you just have to ask.”

“Pussy tease,” she mumbled angrily as she shoved her stuff into her bag and followed him out the room. In a few hours, she would be so relieved he’d had the good sense to stop a disaster from happening, but, right this second, she wanted to murder him.