Surfer Sailor Lover Spy--Maui Read online

  Surfer Sailor Lover Spy—Maui

  An Agent Ex Short Story

  Gina Robinson

  Copyright 2013 Gina Robinson

  Kindle Edition

  Surfer Sailor Lover Spy Cover Design by Visual Quill

  Don’t miss these Agent Ex novels from

  GINA ROBINSON

  LIVE AND LET LOVE

  THE SPY WHO LEFT ME

  DIAMONDS ARE TRULY FOREVER

  LICENSE TO LOVE, Aug. 27, 2013

  LOVE GROWS BETWEEN UNDERCOVER LOVERS

  From Gina Robinson, acclaimed author of the fun, flirty Agent Ex series, comes a passionate short story full of humor, drop-dead desire, and a passionate, top-secret personal mission that's strictly against orders for sexy spy Ty Miller.

  NOW THERE'S DANGER IN PARADISE

  The mission was planned to the last detail—exotic locale, secluded honeymoon beach cottage, roses, and champagne on ice. But some things are beyond the control of even a top secret agent—cockroaches, terrorists, and an inquisitive wife. No obstacle will stop Ty from showing his beautiful wife Treflee just how much he loves her.

  Table of Contents

  The Arrival

  On the Beach

  Dinner for Two

  Coming Soon—License to Love

  About the Author

  Books by Gina

  Surfer Sailor Lover Spy—Maui

  An Agent Ex Short Story

  The Arrival

  Maui, Hawaii

  If there’s one thing a girl really loves on her vacation, it’s a husband who’s romantic. Treflee Miller’s husband Ty was not typically the romantic type. In fact, he was a hardened spy with a license to kill and an often-cynical view of the world to match. After all he’d seen during his espionage career, who could blame him? Treflee’s brief glimpse into the shadowy world of spooks the last time she was in Maui had been enough to tarnish even her rose-colored, rearview sunglasses.

  But Ty had booked a perfectly beautiful, romantic honeymoon cottage for their second honeymoon/let’s-conceive-a-little-secret-agent-of-our-own vacation.

  It’s just gorgeous, Treflee thought, a perfect love nest for what we have in mind.

  Ty pulled their rental car to a stop in front of the small, octagonal cottage privately situated just off the beach at the edge of a lush tropical forest. A thick green lawn led to the wrap-around front porch. Palm and eucalyptus trees waved overhead against the brilliant blue afternoon sky, the scent of plumeria perfumed the air, and the ocean crashed gently in the background.

  Ah, Maui! We’re back. Treflee stole a quick glance of her husband. Only one word described him—hot, hot, hot. She reached across the seat and slid her hand up his naked thigh, squeezing and getting a good feel of wonderfully sexy, solid muscle. Grinning wickedly at him, she gently traced his inner thigh and watched him shudder in delight. She couldn’t wait to get him into that cottage and out of his shorts.

  For years Ty had been promising Treflee he’d take her on vacation to Hawaii. After their adventures last time on the island, they deserved a vacation in paradise with nothing more dangerous than lovemaking on their minds—a week on the beach sipping tropical drinks, sunset cruises, beachfront dinners, surfing and sun, punctuated with passionate interludes. Or maybe that was the wrong order—lovemaking with brief interruptions for superficial things like eating and sleeping.

  A concoction of desire and adrenaline sent her pulse racing. The last time Treflee had been in Hawaii, her marriage had been on the brink of divorce. And now here they were, as eager for each other as newlyweds.

  Ty grabbed her hand from where it rested it on his leg and pulled her fingers to his lips. He slowly kissed her knuckles one by one, and slid his tongue between her fingers, licking the sweet, tender spots at their base with his hot, talented tongue as he gazed devilishly over them at her. Teasing her. Daring her not to shiver with want.

  Thank you, cousin Carrie, for dragging me along last year as part of your called-off wedding party. And for making sure I found love, with my husband, in the wedding capital of the U.S.

  As she sighed with happiness, Treflee grudgingly supposed she also owed Emmett Nelson, head of National Clandestine Services, NCS, the spying arm of the Central Intelligence Agency, and Ty’s boss, a bit of a thank you, too.

  After all, Emmett had sent Ty undercover to Maui as a tour guide and surfing instructor. If Emmett hadn’t, she never would have bumped into her then-estranged husband. Nor would she have stumbled into the heart of Ty’s operation and the middle of the danger. Or had a crazed terrorist try to strangle her with a plastic lei. Before that little incident, she considered plastic leis simply tacky. Now she had a healthy respect for their lethal possibilities.

  That brush with death made Treflee realize two things—just how short life really is, or can be at the hands of a diabolical egomaniac, and that she loved Ty. Against all reason. With a passion that thrills. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, live without him.

  Ty turned her hand over and kissed her wrist as her pulse leaped and pounded beneath the sensuous pressure of his lips.

  Devious, seductive man.

  He smiled that warm, cocky, sexy, intimate, conspiratorial smile of his. “What do you think? Will this place do?”

  “For our extremely delicate, highly seductive, super top-secret personal mission to conceive a baby?” She laced her fingers through his, leaned across, and tipped his head up to brush his lips with the barest, most tantalizing of kisses while aching to rub up against him. “I do believe it will make a perfect mission headquarters.”

  She traced the outline of his jaw with the backs of her fingers. “And if we have a girl, we’ll name her after this gorgeous setting. Plumeria or Beach or Sky—”

  “Or Palekaiko, Hawaiian for paradise.” He squeezed her hand. “But what about a boy?”

  “Ty junior,” she said without hesitating. “Or whatever the Hawaiian is for ‘It took many tries and a super sperm to make you.’”

  He laughed and kissed her hand. “Yeah, right. We’ll talk boy names later.”

  “Speaking of talking, your boss hasn’t a clue we’re defying orders?”

  Emmett Nelson would be livid if he knew what they were up to. And he simply couldn’t find out until it was too late to do anything about it. The NCS chief was against his agents marrying on the grounds that spouses were intelligence leaks waiting to happen. But having a child was just over-the-top disobedience. Think of the risks a spy’s child posed to national security.

  “Not the barest hint.” Ty leaned in and whispered directly into her ear, his hot breath giving her shivers. “All the secrecy adds to the excitement.”

  “Oh, you thrill-seeking, adrenaline junkie,” she whispered back in her breathiest voice. “I love you.”

  Ty is willing to risk Emmett’s wrath, and the possible punishment of a desk job, for me. Because I desperately want his baby. How do I deserve him?

  If only it wasn’t taking so long to conceive. Sixteen secretive consecutive months of failure would rattle even the most confident, and fertile, spy.

  She could conceive. Before their separation she’d miscarried while Ty was away on a mission. But now that she was actually trying, she could not get pregnant to save her life. Though she hoped it didn’t come to that. She simply had to follow her gynecologist’s advice and relax.

  Each month we have twenty-percent chance of success. But this time, we’re in paradise and in the mood. How can we fail?

  She pulled her hand free from Ty’s and held the back of his head, relishing the feel of his thick hair beneath her fingers as heat built between her legs.

  That tiny, little twelve- to twenty-four-hour window of opportuni
ty during ovulation that’s ticking away as we flirt—not a problem. Not now that we’re here.

  “I love you, too.” Ty nibbled her ear until she sighed. “And want you. Badly.” He sucked her earlobe. “Desperately.” He nuzzled her neck. “Almost tragically.”

  She sighed and arched her head as he kissed her throat and she clutched his hair. “You’re such a tease.”

  “No, I’m a man who’s desperate to get inside your panties.”

  Treflee had prepared for this trip like any femme fatale secret agent on an operation that couldn’t fail. She’d done everything to up their odds of success. Had she consumed ample quantities of green tea to increase fertility? You bet. Taken cough syrup to give those swimming sperm a fighting chance? Sure thing. Basal body temperature? Took it. Ovulation predictor kit? Used one just this morning in the airport. Perfect timing. It was positive. Sexy panties? Wearing them. Deep, lunging penetration? As soon as she got Ty into that cottage.

  He kissed the hollow of her throat.

  She sighed. He knew exactly how to get her hot. Deep, deep penetration.

  He kissed the tops of her breasts.

  He knew how to take her breath away.

  “What kind of sex are we having today, Bond babe?” He slid his arms around her waist. “What’s our cover sex story?”

  She inhaled deeply, taking in the perfume of the fresh lei around her neck. Scent is a potent memory inducer and she wanted to remember the heat of this moment forever. “Let’s see. Spy sex is out. We have that every day—”

  “What are you saying?” There was a tease in his voice as he cupped her breasts, distracting her from all rational thought.

  “Not that it’s not wonderful, but . . .” She pulled his head up to look him in the eye. “We’re stepping out of the box this time.”

  “What about wild James Bond sex?” His eyes glistened and his pupils dilated, even in the bright sunshine.

  “Bond has sex with a different girl every time—”

  “So pretend to be a different girl. An adventurous, horny girl.” He paused and lowered his voice. “Any girl, as long as she’s you, will please me.”

  She laughed as she cupped his face. “Sorry to dash your fantasies, spy boy, but I left my disguises at home.”

  She inched her face closer to his and put a Mata Hari purr in her voice. “Besides, that kind of sex is best after a manic chase with adrenaline coursing through our systems and an I’m-glad-to-be-alive-let’s-make-love-while-we-can attitude heightening the pleasure.”

  They’d actually had that kind of sex. Many times.

  “After a smooth, boring old flight across the ocean—”

  “Okay, no spy sex.” He grinned. “For now.”

  With his hair back to his natural brown and a five o’clock shadow, he looked dark and dangerous. She just wanted to touch him all over.

  “What would you say to languorous beach sex?” He stroked her arm. “Strolling hand in hand barefoot on the beach. The breeze whipping our hair. Our toes in the warm sand.”

  He stroked her arm. “You can wear your tiny white bikini. And I can rip it off.” He cupped her cheek.

  “The beach is secluded,” he whispered as he nuzzled her neck. “So you can go topless. And afterward, we’ll skinny dip in the waves.”

  “Mmmmm, sounds wonderful.” She brushed his lips with a kiss. Languorous, gentle beach sex, though, didn’t have the penetrating power she was longing for.

  “Perfect for this evening at sunset with a big, old brilliant sun on the horizon and the sky lit up orange, pink, and red. Soft, romantic lighting and the stars beginning to twinkle.”

  She paused. “I can’t wait that long. I need you. Now.” She put some extra breathiness into her voice. She wasn’t going to waste any time waiting for sunset and take a chance of missing her window. She was hot for him now.

  “There’s a waterfall not far away.” His eyes danced. “A nearby waterfall was one of my requirements when I booked our vacation. What do you say?”

  Having sex in a pool beneath a waterfall had been a favorite fantasy of hers for years. But they fulfilled that fantasy last time she’d been in Maui. Making love beneath the pounding water in a tropical paradise had been everything she’d dreamed of. But . . .

  “On my list.” She kissed him lightly. “Movie sex.” She almost breathed the words as she ran her fingers through his hair.

  “Movie sex?”

  “Can’t-wait-to-do-it-rip-your-clothes-off-knock-the-furniture-over-as-you-get-to-the-bed sex. Like in the movies.”

  Was it her imagination or was he breathing harder at the thought?

  “You’d let me rip your clothes off? Literally?” He eyed the soft, low-cut sundress she wore and his voice went hoarse with desire. “Your brand-new vacation dress?”

  Beneath the dress she wore a thong panty and nothing else. Her nipples budded up as he stared at them and she thought about movie sex.

  Clever little seductress that she was, she’d planned ahead for just such an occasion—the dress had tiny, flimsy straps, easy for ripping. Not that Ty didn’t possess his share of brute strength, but she was eager to get out of that dress. Why chance a delay? Ty had told her once he’d always fantasized about tearing her clothes off in a passionate rush to make love, and she intended to fulfill that fantasy beyond his wildest expectations.

  She softly shrugged. “What’s a dress compared to heat and passion?”

  He arched a brow and his grin grew deeper. “There’s a big bed with a bamboo headboard backed up against a half wall in the center of the room. It’s covered with plush pillows and scented with tropical perfume. There’s a skylight and a fan above it. I say we bang that headboard against the wall.”

  “Precisely.” She made bedroom eyes at him. “Give it to me hard.”

  He kissed the hollow of her neck. “Count on it.” His breath was hot against her neck. “When do we start?”

  “On the count of three we get out of the car. The trip to the cottage is the prelude, the seduction, the we-can’t-keep-our-hands-off-each-other foreplay. Are you in?”

  “Start counting.” His voice was deep and raw with desire.

  “One.” She reached for the door handle. “Two.” She pushed the door open. “Three!” She slid out of the car.

  Ty raced out and met her just in front of the car’s hood. He wrapped her in a tight embrace, cradled her head and pulled her into an intense, powerful kiss full of skillful tongue teasing.

  She put her arms around his neck and kissed him back, her tongue dancing with his as she pressed herself against him, loving the feel of her breasts against his chest.

  Ty slid his hand up her thigh, squeezing and caressing until he found the tiny triangle of her thong panty. As he slid his finger beneath the lacy thong she pressed against his touch, aching with longing so strong she almost let him take her right there. Restraining herself and imagining that big, bad bed, she inched him toward the bungalow as she pulled his shirt loose from his shorts.

  At the bottom of the two stairs up to the lanai, Ty swept her into his arms and carried her up the steps. They lost lip contact only a moment as he fumbled with the key, trying to unlock the cottage door. As she nibbled his ear, the door swung open. Treflee caught a quick glimpse of a romantic room with a dark koa wood floor and decorated in deep rich reds and bamboo furniture.

  A bed piled high with tasseled pillows sat in the very center of the room, the focal point, the object of the honeymoon cottage. Inside the air was fresh and cool and delicately scented in something high in pheromone content.

  Ty kicked the door closed and set Treflee down. She wrapped herself around him, a female python with sex on her mind, squeezing him in her embrace, holding him, running her hands over his shoulders. Savoring the buildup.

  As they stumbled their way across the room, she slid her hands beneath his shirt and ran her hands over his bare chest and the taut muscles of his back. In their rush to the bed, they knocked over a small end table.
Something crashed to the ground and tinkled like broken glass.

  Ty lifted her and spun her over it, hiking her skirt up. She wrapped her legs around his hips, kissing him on the lips, the neck, his ear as she pressed into his hard desire with her pelvis. She ran her fingernails over his back until he shuddered and she ached for him to be inside her.

  As she scooted his shirt up and licked his nipples, they knocked over a nightstand. A lamp crashed to the floor.

  When they reached the bed, she released the python grip of her legs around his hips and touched her feet to the floor to stand facing him, her arms looped around his neck. They grinned at each like two prizefighters sizing up the competition.

  Her wonderful, sexy husband was breathing hard and it wasn’t from the exertion of carrying her across the room. In the shape he was in he could do that all day and not break a sweat.

  He wore a tailored cotton button-front shirt that emphasized his broad shoulders, well-defined biceps, firm abs and narrow waist. Oh, her guy was spy candy for sure.

  As good as that shirt looked on him, it had to come off. Now.

  With a movement as swift as an assassin, she grabbed his shirt at the collar and ripped the front open with all her might. Buttons popped off, flying and pinging across the room like bullets as she stared at him, daring him to make his move. “What are you waiting for? Come and get me, baby.” She was breathing hard now, too, at the thought of him stripping her naked.

  He grabbed the thin cotton strap of her dress and held it for a second, stroking her bare shoulder with his thumb, drawing out the moment, making her mad with desire, watching her breathe hard.

  “Anyway you want it, baby.” He yanked. The strap broke and fell away. He tore the second strap loose, but the dress stayed in place, held firmly over her breasts by the Lycra in the bodice.