Muscling In (5 page)

“We’ll always be together.
Nothing will ever change that.” He held me a little closer and trapped my legs
between his.

I sighed, content and sated,
and shut my eyes.

Chapter Two

“Hey, Sian, your eleven
o’clock is here,” Drake called.

“Okay.” I took a last sip of
tea, then swiped cherry balm over my lips. “Just coming.” I had a full day of
inking. Clients booked in back-to-back. Which was tiring but good. It meant the
time would fly plus it secured my place at Dragon’s Ink all the more. Something
I had to think about in a male dominated workplace. I was good, damn good, but
it didn’t hurt to be in demand and for my boss, Drake, to know it.

I wandered into the tattoo
parlor. The ceiling lights were bright and the walls covered in pictures of our
best body art. Several workstations were lined up with large leather chairs and
sterile tables that held needles, guns and ink. Beyond the two large windows
Londoners rushed by, intent on their business, and the sun streamed in.

“Hi,” I said, holding out my
hand to a big guy with super-short hair who stood by the reception desk. He had
a silvery scar down his left cheek. “Are you Ed Mooreland?”

“Yep, that’s me.” He took my
hand and gave me a quick glance over.

“Great to meet you.”

“Not had a woman ink me
before.” He hooked his thumbs into his jeans pockets. The material was worn and
the waistband sat low on his hips. “But I guess it’ll be okay.”

“She’s one of the best we’ve
got.” Drake walked past and rested his hand on my shoulder. “You’re in good
hands with Sian.”

“I’m sure I am.” The right
side of Ed’s mouth twitched. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his back
pocket. “I spoke to someone on the phone.”

“Yep, that was me.” Drake
nodded.

“It’s just this, added into an
existing tat.” He passed the scrap of paper to me.

I unfolded it. Printed on it
was a bird, wings outstretched. At the center of its chest was a medal. It
reminded me of Coben’s tattoo, though the medal was a different shape and with
horizontal lines on it.

“You military?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled, quick
and easy, and flicked his gaze at the picture. “That gonna be okay for you?”

“No problem. Come this way?” I
handed the picture to Drake for stenciling, turned, then led the way to my
workstation. I was aware of Ed close behind me. He was tall, wide too. His
shadow stretched out and engulfed mine.

“We’re just here.” I indicated
my leather couch, then moved to the sink to wash my hands. “Where’s this bird
going to live?”

“On my thigh.”

Lucky bird.

“Okay.” I glanced at his legs
and smiled. “Better get your skin out, then.”

He popped open the buttons on
his denims and pushed them down his legs, toed off his deck shoes and stepped
out of them completely. He wore tight black briefs that left nothing to the
imagination and I couldn’t help but be impressed as he shook out his jeans and
laid them on the end of the bench. Sure I was married, very happily, but a girl
could admire a handsome man.

I cleared my throat. “Quite an
impressive…tattoo you’ve already got going on there.”

“Thanks.” He rubbed his right
thigh. It was full of black swirls, an intricate web of images with a few
letters and words thrown in. “I’ve been cultivating it for a while.”

“I can tell.” I pulled on
black sterile gloves. “Hop up.”

In one smooth movement he
maneuvered onto the bench. He then clasped his hands behind his head and
stretched out his legs. His t-shirt drifted upward, exposing a flat belly with
a fan of dark hair disappearing into his briefs. He set his attention on me and
swiped his tongue over his bottom lip.

Fuck, the guy was so damn
confident. He was gorgeous in a rough-and-ready, down-and-dirty kind of way,
but seriously, he had coolness written all over him. I wasn’t complaining.
Having a hot military bloke to ink for a few hours was much better than some
whiny creep who’d saved up his benefit money for a coy carp on his ass.

“You want the same colors as
the picture?” I asked, taking a seat on my stool and scooting into position.

Drake set the picture and the
tracing down on my table.

“Yep.”

I studied the picture. “Same
shading?”

“Yep.”

I looked up at him. His hair
was black, so were his eyebrows and lashes, though his eyes were stunning blue.
Very different to Coben’s softer more muted coloring. My husband had sandy
blond hair and hazel eyes. He had plumper lips too, more mobile when he spoke.

My belly tightened as I
thought of Coben and the fun we’d had the night before. Damn he’d used his
mouth well. Plus I’d loved talking dirty to him, creating a fantasy about
another man joining us. Touching us. Fucking. This guy would definitely fit
into the definition of hot, but the trouble was he oozed testosterone. I
shouldn’t imagine he had a gay or even bi bone in his body.

Ed bent his leg and I looked
at the thick black hairs on his shin that lessened toward his knee. I took out
a razor and carefully shaved over the patch of skin that was unmarked.

Would Ed be the sort of guy
Coben would go for in a threesome? Would a hot, muscled military man do it for
him? Yank his chain, press his buttons?

“What do you think?” Ed asked,
indicating the blank space on the outer section of his thigh that I’d just made
hair free. “Should fit okay, yeah?”

I placed the tracing over it.
“Perfect.” I set to work, creating an outline of the picture. “So what you in?
Army?”

“RAF.”

“Enjoy it?” I noticed a sword
with wings nestled within his existing tattoo. I should have guessed he was in
the Air Force.

“Pays the bills.” He huffed.

I glanced up at him. “Easier
ways to pay the bills.”

“Yeah, not as much fun,
though.” He moved his hands and rubbed the scar on his cheek. “You like your
job?”

“Yeah. Keeps me out of
trouble.”

He smirked. “I’m sure a good
girl like you wouldn’t get into trouble.”

“Well, at one time I was a
magnet for it, but now…” I turned and reached for my gun, set the tip of the
needle over the beak of the bird. “Now I’m a married woman I’m a good girl.”

“Ah you’ve been captured by
some lucky sod.”

“Well, I’m pleased to say he
thinks he’s lucky.”

“I’m sure he does.”

“You ready?”

“Yep.”

I flicked a switch and the
steady hum and familiar vibration of the gun started. I pressed it onto his
flesh. Most people jumped or at least flinched but Ed didn’t, and I wasn’t
surprised. Coben hadn’t flinched either, that first day I’d met him and
tattooed his bird. But then that’s what these military guys were like. They
weren’t fazed by a needle, not when they’d gotten used to facing Taliban
snipers before breakfast.

I wiped away the excess ink
and, pleased with the first few lines, glanced over the rest of his tat. There
was a crest, a crown, a few letters—
M
and
D
linked. Beneath a
swirl, Maori-style, was the letter
C
and a cracked heart. The head and
neck of a woman sat beneath a ribbon with
Queen and Country
written on
it. The woman faded at a generous cleavage and melted into more swirls that led
to a rose stem.

“Going to be full soon, this
thigh,” I said. “What’s it all about?”

“Everything on there means
something to me. Reminds me of a passion, a commitment, or an adventure I’ve
had.”

“And this bird? What does that
mean?” I set the needle back on his skin.

“I’m afraid that’s
classified.”

I glanced up at him. “Really?”
He must be joking.

He shrugged, though a grin
played with his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Go on, tell me.”

“Nope, sorry.”

“You in the Secret Service or
FBI or something?”

“If I was American I might
be.” He chuckled.

“I guess I watch too much TV.”
I resumed inking his skin. “Get confused about what’s American and what’s
British.”

“I can see how that would
happen.”

Again I wiped at the bird that
was now taking shape. “So what are you doing while you’re on leave? Other than
getting tats, that is?”

“Family duties. Got to be the
good godson while I’m in town.”

“Ah, I get you. Have you got
long off?”

“Long enough.”

“You can’t tell me, right?” I
shook my head and grinned.

He shrugged and bit down on
his bottom lip.

My mobile phone rang and the
vibration mode caused it to jiggle on the chrome tray. It flashed up with the
word
HUBBY
—something Coben had added
when we’d been on honeymoon and delighting that we would call each other
husband and wife.

“Excuse me,” I said, “I need
to get that.”

“Go ahead.”

I peeled off my right glove
and answered the phone. “Hey, you.”

“What you up to? Busy?”

“Yep, just in the middle of a
design.” I cocked my head and studied the bird’s wings—they were coming on
well, the feathers neat and lifelike.

“I won’t keep you, then, babe,
just want to make sure you’ll be in at a reasonable time.”

“I expect so. Why?”

“We’ve been invited out to
dinner. Harold Stern just called.”

“Really? That’s good news.”

“It certainly bodes well for
some pretty serious after-dinner conversations about what we can do for his
business.”

“Yes, I agree. Where are we
going?”

“It’s just at his home. He
said he’s got a few friends and family coming and his wife mentioned how much
she’d enjoyed your company the other night and did we want to go along.”

“Wow, even better and she’s
sweet, interesting too and well traveled.” I glanced up at my client. His keen
eyes were studying me. “Listen, I really should go. I’ll be home by six thirty.
Is that okay?”

“Perfect. See you later,
gorgeous.”

I hung up and pulled on a
fresh glove.

“Sounds like you’ve got plans
for tonight now,” Ed said, absently rubbing at his flat belly. A slight grin
played with the corner of his mouth. “Something fun? Something to keep you out
of trouble?”

“Well…” I said, studying the
claws on the picture. “I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.”

He laughed—a deep rumble of a
sound that echoed around the room and was full of humor. “It’d be fun to see
you try.”

****

After Ed’s tat I saw three
more clients. All easy stuff, one a Disney character, another a heart with an
arrow through the center and one of Japanese writing that took longer to ensure
that it meant what the customer thought it did than to actually ink. I made it
a rule to always check the meaning of any foreign word before I made it
permanent on someone’s body.

I wandered through the front
door just after six thirty and, obviously keen, Coben was already showered and
ready to go out. He wore black smart trousers and had teamed it with a pale
gray shirt left undone on the top few buttons. He managed to look smart and
casual and he smelled divine.

“I won’t be long,” I said,
dumping my bag on the side cabinet.

He glanced at his watch.
“We’ve got an hour till we need to be there and it’s only a fifteen-minute cab
ride.”

“Good, I’ll wash my hair.” I
ran a hand through my curls. I’d feel much better, more like I’d dressed up, if
I shampooed and blow dried.

After dashing upstairs and
stripping off I stepped into the shower. I used floral shampoo and conditioner
and strawberry soap, enjoying the sweet scents swirling in the steam.

Wrapped in a towel, I stared
at the contents of my wardrobe. What to wear to a formal dinner in an elegant
couple’s home? I pulled a red silk blouse and a black pencil skirt from their
hangers and laid them on the bed. I’d team the outfit with killer heels and a
long pearl necklace to add some glamour to the look.

Quickly, I applied a slick of
body moisturizer and pulled on black satin underwear. The thong wouldn’t give
me a panty line and the bra would look sexy if it were just visible through the
sheer blouse.

“Phew, now I wish we had
several hours until we were going out.” Coben stood in the doorway, his
shoulder bunched on the frame and one leg crossed casually over the other, the
toe of his polished shoe resting on the floor.

“No time for any of that,” I
said, smiling and tugging the towel that was wrapped around my hair. “Not even
a quickie.”

“But later there will be time
for anything we fancy.” He licked his lips. “And until then I’m going to enjoy
knowing what you’re wearing beneath your clothes.”

I traced the strap of my bra,
then brushed my hand over the smooth cup. “Good, that will make sure you hold
that thought.”