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  RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

  Tawny Weber

  Rules of Engagement

  Copyright © 2014 by Tawny Weber

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  http://tawnyweber.com/

  All texts contained within this document are a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons (living or dead), is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To Beth, who is always there when I need her. Through thick and thin, revisions and rewrites, brainstorming and reviews, she’s my girl!

  Chapter One

  “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

  Standing as Maid of Honor, Gina Mayes sighed and unashamedly wiped the tears trickling down her face. She hadn’t thought something as traditional as a wedding would get to her, but here she was, sniffling at the altar like a sap. But smart girls went waterproof, so she was set.

  The new Sergeant and Mrs. St. James came together in a flurry of applause. Gina was thrilled for her best friend. Sophia deserved a guy like Max. One who adored her for who she was, who respected her strengths and helped her believe she could be and do anything she set her heart to.

  Guys like that were rare, dammit.

  Gina’s gaze wandered past the happily smooching bride and groom to the delicious hunk of a best man. Dark, intense and sexy, he was watching the happy couple, too. Except instead of sentimental like she was, he looked like he was facing a firing squad. His sharp jaw was set, his dark brown eyes narrowed. She’d spent the last three years working in an art gallery, honing her eye for beauty. And Sophia’s brother, Specialist Rico Santiago, definitely qualified. All militarily spiffed out in his dress uniform, Rico gave her a brief glance, then immediately shifted his gaze away.

  But not before she’d caught sight of something in those dark eyes. Disapproval, probably. He always looked disapproving when he saw her. Which, since she was best friends with and worked for his sister, should be quite a bit. But since he was off doing his soldier thing, was really only a couple times a year. Still, that assessing stare a couple times a year was enough to give a girl a complex.

  Yeah, yeah, she was too out there for his tastes. Girls like her who were big on self-expression didn’t fit the norm. She got that message a lot. But somehow, it sucked worse when it came from a guy she’d started crushing on two years ago. It was a shame that such an uptight guy was packaged with such a gorgeous face.

  Before she could mull on it any further, Max, the cutie-patootie groom, finally stopped kissing his beloved bride and the minister introduced them to a sea of applause.

  The newly married couple made their way up the glitter heart-strewn carpet that served as the aisle to their garden wedding. As the harpists reached a crescendo, Rico stepped forward to offer Gina his arm.

  Swallowing hard, she shifted her bouquet of roses to one hand and tucked her other into the crook of his elbow. Just there, below the strong, rounded hardness of his bicep.

  Oh, my, it was hard.

  Not your type, not your type, not your type, Gina chanted silently, trying to ignore the little tingles of sexual awareness zinging through her at the feel of his strong, muscular arm pressing against her bare shoulder. His large, oh-baby-so-impressively-large, hand underneath her fingers.

  “You’re crying,” Rico noted, his words quiet as he escorted her up the aisle. “Why would you get all choked up over such a happy event?”

  “I just think it’s sweet. Sophia and Max are finally married. And on Valentine’s Day. It’s romantic, you know?”

  “Romance makes you cry?”

  He was such a guy. Gina gave him an exasperated side-look and shook her head. Her hair, styled in ringlets in a sedate blue-black with just a hint of red at the tips for the wedding, danced over her shoulders.

  “You wouldn’t understand.” Guys never did. Especially not perfect guys like Rico. Perfectly handsome, perfectly sexy, perfectly, well—she cast a glance at him—perfectly normal.

  And, as she’d learned from a couple of miserable break-ups, normal just wasn’t her speed.

  Normal guys wanted her hair a single color. Wanted her to watch her mouth and wear boring clothes. Normal wanted to fit her in a box so she didn’t stand out in the crowd, stifling her creative side and crushing her spirit.

  She was so not into normal.

  “You crying over Sophia dragooning you into being a part of the wedding?”

  Gina wrinkled her nose. “Why would I cry about that?”

  “I wouldn’t think anything as traditional as a wedding would be your thing,” Rico admitted.

  Right. Gina’s tears dried up and tension slid over her shoulders. Because girls like her, girls with a tattoo or two, a few piercings and a penchant for experimenting with hair color weren’t the marrying kind.

  So wasn’t crazy that her secret dream was so normal she was almost ashamed of it. She wanted a home she could paint wild colors, a garden to grow organic vegetables. She wanted kids she could guide and a father for them who drove her wild, saw her heart and loved her completely.

  Yep, crazy, she sniffed.

  The kind of guys who went for girls like her would freak over that kind of thing. Besides, no one she’d dated gave her the feeling. They might get her hot and wild, but it never lasted. And none of them ever inspired an urge to live out her secret dream of spending the rest of her life having wild, kinky sex and playing house.

  Nope, she slanted a glance at the man next to her again and sighed. For some insane reason, her sub-conscious had slated that dream exclusively for Rico.

  Every time she shoved aside her craving for Rico and settled for someone else, it just didn’t work out. Like the last guy she’d dated, the minute she even so much as thought about settling, and trying to settle down and doing th
e traditional thing, his wienie-radar went off, and he’d run so fast all that’d been left behind was a smear of guy-liner. Artsy goth types didn’t seem to be into anything traditional.

  A different life than what she’d grown up with, the daughter of a wild teenager who hadn’t been ready to give up her life and settle down. Not even for her kid.

  Rico was right. What did she know about traditional? Gina sighed. Wishing for it was crazy, but she couldn’t get it out of her mind.

  According to the wisdom of Sophia, traditional was what Rico wanted, too. A wife. Kids. Maybe even a picket fence, although the fence in Gina’s dream was two-toned, decorated in a black diamond pattern and the kids homeschooled and doing yoga.

  Probably not what Rico had in mind.

  Because he wasn’t her type.

  Or, more to the point, she wasn’t his.

  She’d seen his type. Blonde, busty and sophisticated. The kind who threw cocktail parties and had future PTA-mom written all over their perfect face.

  Which was so not Gina.

  With that reminder front and center, she released his arm as soon as they reached the end of the aisle and stepped away.

  “Where are you going?”

  Why? Did he want her to stay? She stared up at him, the familiar sexual tension she always felt around him sliding through her system. Dark eyes stared back, lashes so lush she could barely resist touching them. He wore his usual, intense look, the one that made her wonder if he was trying to see into her soul.

  Or better yet, wondering what she looked like naked.

  Despite the crowd of wedding guests milling around them, Gina’s mind immediately reciprocated, images of what Rico might look like naked dancing through her brain.

  She knew he was buffed and tight, his body honed to perfection. But she wanted to see the rest of it.

  Yes, oh yes she did.

  Did his lips taste as good as they looked? Were his hands gentle, even in the throes of passion? Or did he throw caution and that gentlemanly façade out the door and grab a woman for some rough and wild craziness?

  Gina’s heart pounded so hard, she was surprised her dress didn’t rip. Face flushed, she glanced away trying to remember what he’d said.

  “Sorry, what?” she finally asked with an apologetic smile.

  “Where are you going?” he repeated, that ever-so-familiar impatient furrow in his brow.

  “To help Sophia get ready for photos.”

  “You’re not going to explain that crying thing?”

  For a second, the wild side of her wanted to share everything. Why she’d been crying, what she’d been thinking, and just exactly how often she’d imagined him naked.

  “I don’t think you’d understand,” she said instead.

  “Try me.”

  Her eyes dropped to his mouth, those lips tempting her. Just one taste, that’s all she wanted.

  But that’d be every kind of stupid.

  So she shifted her smile to saucy and shook her head. “Nope. Women like to be a mystery. Didn’t you know that?”

  “You are definitely mysterious,” he muttered with a confused shake of his head. But he smiled back. A real smile, the kind that made his dark eyes dance and those manly dimples flash. The kind of smile that melted her heart.

  She sighed, wishing for just a brief second that she could pretend to be his type. But Gina didn’t do lies, so trying to pretend otherwise just ended up hurting all parties involved.

  And she wasn’t big on being hurt.

  “I’m sure you have other things to do than listen to me, anyway. Since I doubt I’ll see much of you before you go, you take care of yourself,” she said. Then, unable to resist, she reached out and skimmed quick fingers along his already stubbled jaw. She gave him a tremulous smile, then winked. “No more throwing yourself on bombs or any other crazy heroics. It freaks your sister out.”

  Her hand on fire, aching to touch more, she tightened her fingers around the stems of her bridesmaid bouquet of red roses, turned on her strappy stiletto heel and hurrying off.

  Before she did something really stupid like forget her convictions and attempt a little make-believe normalcy.

  Although for a tumble with a guy like Rico?

  Make-believe normalcy and a broken heart might be a fair price to pay.

  Chapter Two

  Baffled, Rico watched his sister’s wild assistant hurry through the crowded ballroom. The St. James house was huge, the ballroom where they’d had the ceremony flanked on one side with French doors leading to the garden and the other side opening to the foyer and rooms beyond. He’d seen it all before, though, so Rico didn’t pay much attention. He was too busy wondering what was up with Gina.

  What was the deal? She flirted and chatted up most guys like crazy, but acted like he was the devil and had just propositioned her for a piece of her soul.

  His eyes fixed on the tempting sway of her hips. He had to admit, it wasn’t her soul he wanted a piece of.

  But there were rules to be respected. He wasn’t the kind of guy who chased after a woman just for sex. At least, not when the woman was his sister’s friend.

  “Scaring off the girls?” Carlos asked, the question followed by a punch to the shoulder. “You need to work on that, little brother. You’re the last one of us left loose and single. If we’re gonna marry you off, you can’t make them run away.”

  “Don’t you have anything better to do than hassle me? I’m gonna find that pretty wife of yours and tell her you’re so bored you’re playing matchmaker now.” Rico shot back.

  Not that Rico was against the idea of marriage. He wanted to get married. Hell, he hadn’t realized just how much until he’d watched his baby sister promise to love and honor his best friend.

  But he wanted just the right kind of wife. His dream wife. The Santiago kids had all been young when they lost their mother, Rico only four. He’d spent his childhood dreaming of a woman who’d make a perfect house. Warm meals, clean clothes, hugs and a little bit of attention. He’d spent plenty of years chasing the joys of easy sex, too. But as fun as that was, he’d always known it wasn’t the direction he planned to look at when it came to marriage.

  “Maria’s all for getting you settled down. She even has a few girls lined up for you to meet now that you’re home. Two of them here at the wedding. I heard her and Carla talking about which of their favorites you should dance with first.”

  Rico winced. “I can get my own girls.”

  “Yeah. I saw how well that was going when you scared off that girl. It was Gina, right?” Carlos prodded. “I like her. She’s feisty.”

  Feisty was one way to put it. Rico knew from a few visits home that the woman was mouthy. Outspoken, clever and unique. When he was a kid, she’d have been called Goth. He had no clue what the term was now, except that she was out there. Wild clothes, wilder hair. Even dressed in a glittery bridesmaid dress that paid tribute to Valentine’s Day with red fabric and full skirt, she’d paired it with black nail polish, red rhinestone glasses and a big black bow in her hair.

  Yeah. Feisty was right.

  And unexpectedly sexy. Rico watched as Gina laughed with the bartender, taking two flutes of champagne and toasting the guy her thanks. The crystal reflected the glittering red beads across the strapless top of her dress as she made her way back to the photographer, Sophia and Max.

  He recalled the feel of her skin against his. Soft, silky and warm. Heat, strong and sexual, stirred. Just his body’s little reminder that it’d been a long time since his last leave. That had to be why he was so hot and horny for a woman with black and red striped hair sporting a winking smiley face tattoo on her shoulder.

  “You planning on a little fun with the sassy bridesmaid?” Carlos asked, his words amused.

  “She’s not my type.” Rico shoved his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. She wasn’t. Even if she was the type his body happened to be craving right this second.

  “What type is she?”

&
nbsp; “Wild, with a little bit of crazy thrown in.”

  “What’s wrong with that? Wild and crazy are fun. You don’t want to be saddled with a boring woman, do you?” Carlos looked around, as if checking to see if his wife was in hearing distance, then leaned closer. “Fun offers a lot more heat, if you know what I mean. That’s just as important as all the stuff the women yammer on about when it comes to a good match.”

  But Rico wasn’t in the market for fun. He was home with a plan. He had a month of leave, and now that he’d safely seen his one and only sister married to the man he’d hand-picked for her, he was ready for part two of his mission.

  To find his own bride.

  A sweet, biddable one who’d adore and worship him, keep a perfect house and want lots of kids to raise and love.

  Yeah, he was an ass for digging back to the fifties for his dream wife.

  But he wasn’t a stupid ass. So he was keeping what he liked to call his Rules of Engagement to himself.

  Chapter Three

  A plate heaped with a huge slice of the rich, chocolate groom’s cake in her hand, Gina sat on the rock wall overlooking a large pond. Trying to relax, she watched the koi swim their water ballet to the sound of the trickling waterfall.

  Behind her, music and laughter filled the air as the wedding reception hit high gear. She should be in there. Dancing, drinking champagne, nibbling on canapés she couldn’t pronounce.

  Watching Rico dance with perfect, upscale women with perfectly gym-toned bodies and salon-sculpted looks.

  Her shoulders drooped dangerously low for a woman wearing a strapless dress. Realizing she was pathetically close to pouting about things she knew better than to invest an ounce of energy in, she scooped up a dose of emotional-healing in the form of double-chocolate delight.