Wicked Secrets. Anne Marsh

she’d shoved in her shorts pocket wouldn’t take her far. She’d have to call for cash and new cards. Rejoining the cruise was probably not feasible—the ship was headed down the California coast for a quick pit stop in Ensenada, Mexico, and then to Cabo, where everyone would get off and fly home. By the time she made it to an airport, her cousin would already be airborne.

      “Mia.” She felt rather than saw him shake his head. “That’s not happening. You can spend the night with me.”

      “I’m fine.”

       Liar.

      Her gaze dropped to his hands. His strong, capable hands that were holding her up because otherwise she was likely to butt-plant on the sand. She hated feeling weak. Hated being weak.

      “You can’t stay here,” he said, using his calm, logical voice again. She wondered what it would take to get him angry and loud. “You’re sick. You’re homeless. And, since I don’t see a purse, I suspect you’re broke, as well.”

      “You certainly know how to lift a girl’s spirits.”

      He kept right on talking. “So, the way I see it, you need a place to fall back to for the night.”

      He was right, damn him. She chewed on her lower lip as she thought her situation through. Twenty bucks simply didn’t go far, and she didn’t have so much as an ID with her because her cousin had taken Mia’s purse back to the ship. Tag didn’t say anything as he waited for her to come to the obvious conclusion.

      “Are you going to make me say it?”

      His sigh ruffled her hair. “Yes, Mia, I am.”

      Problem was, she was best at giving orders. Not taking them. He didn’t say anything else, though, and he was right, damn it. She needed somewhere to spend the night, she was temporarily broke and she knew him.

      “Take me home with you.” She wouldn’t, couldn’t say please.

      “You got it.” He rose smoothly, setting her back on her own two feet. So why, if he’d given her exactly what she’d wanted, did she feel disappointed?