by Lori Foster
“I don’t want to rush you.”
“How about you let me do the rushing?”
That did it. He could fight himself, but he couldn’t fight them both. He took her hand, used it to drag her out to the porch, then backed her up to the wall and kissed her. The door fell shut behind her.
Everything he’d just told himself faded away. Vanity clutched at him, squeezing him tighter to her, hooking one calf around his.
Scooping his hand under her bottom, he aligned their bodies so that his straining erection nestled against the warm junction of her thighs.
Her faint gasp spurred him on.
Cold air whispered around them, but he barely felt it. Her lips softened, opened; he turned his head, licked in, stroked deep. Devoured.
Their breaths labored, fogging the air around them. She moved against him, needy, ready. He felt explosive.
When the dogs scratched at the door, Stack forced himself to come up for air. “Damn, I need you,” he growled.
“Need you more,” she whispered, her hands knotted in his shirt. She nipped his chin, his jaw, made her way to his throat and opened her mouth against his skin.
Fuck. His guts tightened, his muscles clenching. Hand still on her ass, he lifted and rocked her against him.
A gust of icy wind drifted her hair against his forearm.
Hadn’t he just thought about how cold it was now? And here he had her out on the porch wearing only socks, flannel pants and a long-sleeved tee. “I’m sorry.”
Brushing her nose over his throat, she asked, “For?”
He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “It’s cold out here.”
Meeting his gaze, she took his hand and pressed it low to her belly. “It’s hot enough inside that it doesn’t matter.”
He had to kiss her again and did. But this time he kept enough sense not to get carried away. Tucking her hair back, he asked, “You hungry?”
She purred. “Starving.”
That made him smile. “For food, darlin’.”
Her hand repeatedly smoothed over his shoulder. “Maybe just a little.”
“Then how about we get some food together and give the dogs a chance to calm down.” He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “Then you’re mine for the rest of the night.”
Another purr and a murmured, “Love that plan.” Again she took his hand, turned and led him inside.
Even while kneeling down to greet the dogs, he watched her sexy walk as she headed to the kitchen. Didn’t matter what she fixed. He planned to inhale it.
Then he planned to have her for dessert.
* * *
HUNKERED IN THE SHADOWS, heart still tripping, Phil waited until he was dead-sure they were inside, and that they’d stay there.
If that damned deer hadn’t startled him, he wouldn’t have made a noise. But once he did, he’d known—just known—that Stack was going to kill him. And it wouldn’t be a quick death. No, Stack would probably enjoy pulverizing him one punch or kick at a time.
He still couldn’t believe the thugs had been so easily stopped. Not that it mattered. They didn’t know who he was. And they had served their purpose—to keep Stack occupied so he could approach Vanity alone.
That hadn’t gone quite as well as he’d hoped. She might be hot as hell, but she wasn’t a pushover. Not completely, anyway. Still, he’d scored some cash. It was a start.
Getting to her now would be trickier. But not impossible. Sucked that he had to sneak around, but the payoff would be worth it.
Sticking to the shadows, in a half-crouching run, Phil got as far from the danger as he could. The pills he’d taken earlier were wearing off. He was no longer as mellow as he needed to be.
Yeah, when Stack had heard the noise, Phil’s damned heart had punched into his throat, obliterating his calm. But he’d liked seeing how quick Vanity turned on. She’d all but melted on Stack the minute the bastard touched her. Tabby used to melt for him like that.
Stack was the one who ruined everything, so he owed him. Since his new lady was rolling in it, she could even Stack’s debt—with cold, hard cash.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
VANITY WANTED TO rush through the meal, but Stack wouldn’t.
She wanted to tidy up the dishes herself, but he insisted on helping.
Obstinate. Considerate.
Wonderful.
“You look good in boots.”
His hands, covered in soapsuds, paused while cleaning the frying pan. In slo-mo, he turned his head to stare at her. “Come again?”
She nodded in the general direction of his backside, which she’d been watching while wiping off the table. “You,” she said. “In those worn jeans and cowboy boots. It’s a good look.”
He snorted and went back to cleaning the pan. “You don’t have to butter me up. Believe me, I’m ready.”
He didn’t act ready. He acted like patience personified. “I’m serious.” She strode up to him, reached her arms around his waist, and dropped the dishrag back into the sink. And now that she was flattened up against him, she hugged him tight.
He went still, his hands again suspended in soapy water.
From the corner of the kitchen, Norwood opened one eye to look at them, then let out a doggy huff and went back to sleep curled up by Maggie.
“I’ll be done in two minutes.”
“Mmm.” She slipped her hands up under his flannel and T-shirt. “I’ll just entertain myself until then.”
“You’re distracting me, and I wanted to talk.”
Right. He was going to explain about his arm. She slid away from him, took the pan and turned off the water. After setting the pan in the dish drainer, she took his hand in one of hers, then gently touched his forearm.
“Vanity?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing?”
She looked up at him. It was something of a thrill that he stood so tall. And she hadn’t lied about his wardrobe preferences. She liked his laid-back cowboy vibe, minus a hat. His long muscular legs looked great in jeans and boots. His narrow hips and flat abs made everything look good. And his chest, his shoulders—
A finger under her chin lifted her face. “Vanity?”
“I wanted to check your boo-boo.”
Incredulous, he lifted a brow and said deadpan, “My boo-boo?”
“This.” She brushed her cheek against his forearm, exposed by his rolled-up sleeves. The bruises had already darkened, looking ugly and painful. “Does it hurt?”
“No.”
She knew he had to be fibbing. “You were going to tell me what happened.”
“No, I was going to ask you why you always insist looks don’t matter.”
She opened her mouth but then closed it without saying anything.
Stack just watched her, waiting, making her sigh.
“Fine, but you first.”
Lifting one shoulder, he said, “I got jumped. Now you.”
No freaking way! “What do you mean you got jumped?”
He cracked his head to one side, then the other, and visibly held on to his patience. “It was nothing. Two goons jumped me in front of my sister’s apartment. I beat the snot out of them both, end of story.”
“If you beat the...the snot out of them, then what’s this?” She put her hand protectively over the worst of the bruises.
“One lucky strike with a small wooden bat. It’s superficial. In a few days it’ll be back to normal.”
“Did you call the police?” she demanded.
“No.”
“No?”
Amused, he half smiled. “It was just an altercation, and they learned the error of their ways. No reason to drag the cops into it.”
“But...why not?”
He sighed as if harassed. “I don’t need to be mothered, okay? Got a mother, a pushy one. You’ve met her. Got an older sister, too, who likes to butt into my life. That’s enough female concern, believe me.”
Not wanting to chase him off, Vanity
reluctantly let it drop. “Fine.”
Her attitude didn’t put him off. “Now you.” He turned his hand over to effectively displace her touch, then laced his fingers in hers. “Why do you have a hang-up about being gorgeous?”
Her face heated. “I’m not.”
Enunciating clearly, he said again, “Gorgeous. And for some reason, you’re bothered by it.”
Shaking her head to deny it, she lied, “That’s not true.”
“Vanity.”
“It’s not a hang-up.” It was totally a hang-up. A dumb one to boot. But still... “It’s reality. Looks fade, beauty is only skin deep, all that. If you find me attractive, I’m glad.”
“I find you very attractive. Anyone with eyes and a brain cell will agree. Especially anyone male.”
Okay, so she knew she wasn’t a hag. She’d been shopping in the mall when a local talent scout begged for her info. If his office hadn’t been there in the mall, she would have kept walking. But it had intrigued her.
So, not a hag. Better than just average. She appreciated that nature had been kind to her. Sighing, she gave a dramatic, “But...”
“But?” he prompted.
Flattening her mouth and staring him in the eyes, she stated the truth. “I don’t want looks to be the only thing you see.”
For the longest time he scrutinized her; contemplative, understanding. Curious. “There’s more to it, something more personal.”
She gave up. “Yes, personal.” To help her get through the uncomfortable confession, she toyed with the front of his shirt...and sneakily opened a button on his flannel. “My mother was beautiful.”
“She looked like you?”
“More...refined.” How to explain that? “Higher cheekbones, a narrower nose. I have my mother’s coloring, but I favor my father.”
“Then both your parents were attractive.” His eyes searched hers. “You explained about your mother’s family, and I know you said your dad was an only child. But didn’t he have any relatives?”
“He had uncles and aunts, and a few cousins. They weren’t close, and we don’t stay in touch. Some of them live in England, a few in the Bahamas.”
Stack’s fingertips did this interesting, stirring thing where he lightly touched her, tracing her jawline, up and around her ear. She inhaled and tried to focus enough to get through the explanation. “Dad had a mistress.”
Oh, wow, she hadn’t meant to just blurt that out.
His mouth went crooked with a reluctant smile. Definitely not the reaction she’d expected.
Scowling, she poked his chest. “What’s funny about that?”
He quickly sobered. “Sorry, your word choice... You’re saying he cheated?”
Somehow “had a mistress” sounded less awful than “cheated.” Her mother had developed the practice of prettying up reality with loftier word choices. Denial in its finest form.
Perhaps, Vanity decided, she shouldn’t do the same. “Yes.” Her throat tightened, but she forced out the words. “He cheated.”
“They were divorced?”
It shamed her to admit the truth. “Mom felt the only thing worse than Dad leaving her for a younger woman would be to go through the disgrace of a divorce.”
Stack whistled. “Old school.”
Her heart cracked a little at that attitude. “Marriage should be forever.”
Taking her words seriously, Stack slid a hand around her neck. “Love should be forever. Without it, it’s not a marriage anyway.”
So true. Sadly, her mother had never realized that. “I’m sure you’re right. But she stayed with him anyway, and he stayed with her, and after they died, his mistress expected to inherit.”
“But she didn’t.”
“Not a dime.” Vanity had almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
Stack moved his fingers in a light caress. “My mom and dad were devoted, to each other and to Tabby and me.” Some fond memory curled his mouth, then brought a short laugh. “Dad was outrageous. Until the day he died he chased after Mom like they were still teenagers. I remember one day we were waiting on dinner, and Mom bent to take a roast out of the oven. Dad smacked her on the butt, and when she protested, hitting him with the oven mitt, he pulled her onto his lap and kissed her until they were both laughing. Tabby and I pretended to be grossed out, but it wasn’t gross. It was just...nice. Normal. At least for us.”
“Other than a peck on the cheek, I don’t think I ever saw my dad kiss my mother.”
“You’d have been shocked around my house. They didn’t make out in front of us or anything like that. But Dad was always pretty demonstrative. I was twenty when a massive heart attack took him, and a week before that, he’d hugged me. A big bear hug. He was touchy-feely with the ones he loved, and that included my mom big-time.”
“That must have been so nice. My parents weren’t touchers.” She gave that quick thought. “Not around me anyway. But I don’t know how Dad was with his young, pretty mistress.”
“So you, and your mother, assumed he cheated because this other woman was younger and prettier?”
Vanity wasn’t sure. “My mother often said that love lasted only as long as looks did.” Feeling sick about it, she looked away. “She said having me had ruined her body, although it seemed to me that she worked out all the time.”
Stack frowned. “Is that why you work out?”
Snorting, Vanity shook her head. “I’ve always enjoyed being active. If I could swim or surf, that’s what I’d be doing. But there aren’t any oceans nearby.”
He grinned. “Not in Ohio, no. But we could hit up some waterparks if you want.”
“Really?”
He touched her face. “I’d enjoy it.”
Emotion burned her eyes. “Me, too.”
Easing the moment, Stack said, “I can’t imagine anyone prettier than you.”
A reluctant smile warmed her. “You’re sweet. Thank you.”
“Sweet.” He shook his head, then both his hands cupped gently around her neck, forcing her to make eye contact. “I think you’re beautiful.” Then, surprising her, he added, “Just as Cannon thinks Yvette is beautiful and Denver thinks Cherry is.”
What did that comparison mean?
Feeling very unsure, she said nothing.
“When a man is involved,” Stack continued, “married or not, but especially when he has a family, he should never cheat. It’s not just a betrayal of the person you promised to love, honor and cherish. It betrays the family unit, too.”
So many times she’d felt betrayed by her father.
Sometimes...by her mother, as well. Together they’d created a cold and uncomfortable atmosphere, the antithesis of family.
“No disrespect to your parents, but when someone cheats, it’s a reflection on the cheater, only. Your dad was willing to do that, so I don’t think it would’ve mattered what your mom looked like.”
Vanity admitted the truth. “I’ve thought that sometimes, too. Mom made it about looks, but I think maybe it was about a whole lot more.”
“Your father shouldn’t have done that. Your mother shouldn’t have accepted it.” Stack put a quick kiss on her mouth. “You sure as hell shouldn’t, and I damn straight wouldn’t.”
No, she couldn’t see Stack sneaking around. He was too up-front, and far too honorable.
As if he’d read her thoughts, he said, “I wouldn’t marry unless I could have what my parents had. And you can believe me, Dad always thought Mom was hot.” He grinned as he said it. “Didn’t matter if she was dressed up or wearing sweats while she cleaned the house.” Stack shrugged. “He loved her.”
Hearing him talk so earnestly about his family thrilled her. Practically overnight they’d advanced from one-time hookup to saving free time for each other...however long it lasted.
Stack tipped his head. “Understand?”
“Yes,” Vanity assured him. She got another button open, then tried to lead him back to his earlier statement. “You mentioned the other co
uples...?”
He didn’t deny that they were a couple, too. “You’re all attractive.”
“All?”
He ignored the question. “I think you’re by far the hottest. But I’m willing to bet Cannon and Denver would disagree. Armie, too, given he’s hung up on Merissa.”
“I know.”
His mouth quirked. “Everyone seems to know except the two of them.”
Another button gave way. “Are you saying you’re hung up on me?”
He lightly kissed her, and teased, “Little bit.”
Her heart took leaps around her chest. “Really?”
His gaze turned smoky. “You like that, huh?”
Throwing her arms around him, she pressed her face to his throat. “Yes.” His scent, dark and masculine and delicious, filled her head. “I like it a lot.”
“Understand, darlin’, I like everything about you. Whether you’re spattered in paint or wearing sweats at the gym or—” he nipped her neck “—buck-ass, which I’m pretty sure will always be my preference.”
“Then maybe I should get buck-ass right now.”
“Now you’re talking.” As if she weighed nothing, he scooped an arm under her legs and lifted her. Norwood and Maggie both perked up, but she said, “Stay,” and with twitching ears, they both remained in the kitchen as Stack carried her away.
She loved him. More so every minute.
Pretty soon she’d have to come clean and admit that she’d seduced him under false pretenses.
He’d thought to get uncomplicated sex.
But all along, she’d been going for happily-ever-after.
* * *
STACK GOT HER in the bedroom, closed the door, then lowered her to the bed. He stretched out beside her, one leg pinning her down while he kissed her senseless. Covering her breast with one hand, he groaned. Her nipple was already puckered tight, and he tormented them both by playing with her while getting his fill of her soft mouth.
Each time she adjusted, he did, too, until he got lost in the ravenous kiss, her taste and heat and the fragrant air around her.
Dragging his mouth away, he shoved up the shirt until it bunched around her upper chest. Her breasts trembled with her ragged breathing. In a fog of need, he held her in his hand, licked the ripe nipple, then sucked her hard and sweet.
