by Lori Foster
Jesus. Much more of that and he’d be strangled again. “I never take a date to a wedding.” Best to clear that up right now.
“Because women get ideas?”
The back of his neck prickled. “Yeah. Something like that.” He cast a look at Denver, but he and Leese had their heads together, both of them looking far too serious.
No help there.
He hated to ask, because he just knew it’d be a trap, but he heard himself say, “What about you? Got a string of guys waiting for the word?”
“Like you, I hesitate to go with anyone.” Finally she retreated, leaning out of his space to sip at her drink.
But with her body aimed toward his—for the sake of conversation, maybe—and her legs so long, her knees bumped the outside of his thigh.
Since when did an innocent touch like that become so hot?
Since the knees belonged to Vanity Baker.
Thank God she wore jeans. He’d seen her in itty-bitty skirts and shorts and it never failed to inspire lust.
“Stack?”
“Hmm?”
The smile flickered into place again. That, too, was a turn-on, how her lips always twitched and one side went up first, then the other, as if she fought every grin.
“You’re here to keep me engaged in conversation, but you’re not holding up your end of the bargain.”
“Right. Sorry.” What the hell had they been discussing? Oh, yeah, Cannon’s upcoming wedding. “You hate to take dates to weddings, too? How come?”
She lifted her glass as if in a toast. “I lose my better judgment when I drink too much.”
He eyed her half-empty glass. Do tell.
“So it’s risky to have a guy in the line of fire. But I’m the maid of honor and I’m going to look pathetic to be there solo.”
Oh hell. He felt the noose closing.
Very softly, she said, “You did run off Leese.”
No fucking way! “You were going to ask him?”
Again she sipped. “Actually, I think once I mentioned the wedding he would have asked me.”
Knowing what he did now, Stack couldn’t stop obsessing on how much she might have imbibed already. “And you’d have accepted?” She deserved better than a new fighter with a shit attitude.
So what was he? A better-grade fighter with a shit attitude?
When she sipped again, self-preservation sank in. Stack took the glass from her and set it out of reach.
Her eyes flared. “You didn’t just do that.”
“Did.” He braced an arm on the bar and leaned into her. “Stay away from Leese.”
This time when she tilted her head, her hair drifted over his wrist. “Giving me an order?”
“Call it a concerned suggestion.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said, and her gaze was on his mouth, making it harder for him to breathe. Just...making it harder all around.
He needed to put some space, emotional and mental if not physical, between them pronto. “Mostly I don’t take dates to weddings because it’s a good place to score.”
“Really?” Looking intrigued instead of insulted, she said, “Tell me.”
“What?”
Her eyebrows wiggled. “Details. You pick up women at weddings...one at a time?”
Shit. “One at a time.”
“Okay, you pick them up and take them to your place? Isn’t that dicey? I mean, not that they might molest you.” Her soft, husky laugh did crazy things to him. “That’s the point, right? But how do you get rid of them afterward?”
Another glance at Denver showed no end in sight. He and Leese were now seated at a table. Double damn. Vanity waited, her gaze searching his, occasionally dropping over his body, so he had to answer. “I don’t bring chicks to my place.”
“Chicks,” she said with a smile that mocked him. “So where do you take these chicks?”
And now she was making fun of him. He leaned in, annoyed enough to be blatant. “In a closet or the men’s room usually.”
“Eww. Really?” She reached past him, her breasts brushing his biceps, and retrieved her glass. “I mean, a closet...maybe. But the bathroom? Foul.”
“The walls are usually clean enough.”
“So.” She swirled the ice. “I take it these are quickies, yes? I mean, surely there can’t be much foreplay in a public bathroom. It’s a disappointing image, I guess because I had this vision in my... Never mind.”
Oh, hell no. “What?”
She looked him over. “All that wolf and howling gossip.” She lifted a bare shoulder that made her breasts move softly. “Guess I never envisioned you as a minute man.”
Stack locked his teeth. “I’m not.”
“You just said you are.”
“That is,” he growled, overly enunciating, “I only am when it’s the right way to be.”
“Always choosing the best path? I see. So there are times when some speedy action in a bathroom is the proper course?”
He leaned closer still, his gaze holding hers. “When the woman is so hot for it she’s begging, yeah, a few minutes is long enough to get her off.”
Someone bumped his arm and he turned to see both Denver and Leese standing there. Denver looked startled, Leese disgusted.
Well, hell.
Vanity said, “Hello, boys. All done with your chitchat?”
Denver’s gaze bounced back and forth between them before settling on Stack. “I hate to interrupt, but—”
“Yeah, give me a minute.”
“He’s the minute man, you know,” Vanity said sotto voce.
“That’s enough from you.”
She tried to look innocent, but another twitching smile ruined it.
Stack turned his frown on Leese. He wasn’t about to budge until that dude was long gone.
Denver said, “I’ll grab us a table.”
“If his lady friends come over,” Vanity called after him, “tell them he’ll be right there.”
Bemused, Denver looked back and forth between them again. “Sure.”
And he took off, the coward.
Leese stuck around, and it annoyed Stack enough that he said, “What?”
“He’s surly,” Vanity explained with a gentle pat to Leese’s forearm. “Something about quickies in a closet.”
Not amused, Leese said, “I’ll see you around?”
“I’m sure you will.” And then softer, with concern, “Are you okay to drive?”
That caused old Leese to straighten. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” And he walked out stiff-legged while trying to hide his discomfort. Pride, Stack knew, could be a bitch.
“That poor man,” Vanity said.
Though Stack almost thought the same thing, he didn’t like hearing it from her. He also knew it was the very last thing Leese—or any fighter—would want her thinking. “Jesus.” He stood. “You want a date for the wedding?”
“Well, I did,” she clarified. And before he could say more, she added, “I already assumed you didn’t want any one woman getting clingy. I also don’t want any man getting clingy.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m well-to-do. Don’t know if you knew that.”
As in wealthy?
“Anyhow,” she went on as if she hadn’t just said something so startling. “It gives guys ideas.”
Stack laughed. Seriously? How much money could a midtwenties California surfer-chick have? “I don’t know anything about your finances—”
“I could live comfortably without ever again working.” Her bare shoulder lifted again. “But sometimes I get bored.”
That was a mouthful. He knew she worked part-time for Yvette at the resale shop, so he’d just assumed...
Shaking that off, Stack said, “Doesn’t matter if you’re a millionaire. Listen, any guy that gets ideas about you, gets them from this.” He waved a hand, indicating her face, down to her painted toenails and back up to that sinfully long, pale hair.
“But you’ve never had ideas?”
He laughed. “I�
�m breathing, right?”
Her eyes smiled even if her mouth didn’t. “So will you be my date to the wedding?” She held out a hand to strike a deal. “No strings attached.”
Still stung over how she’d harassed him, Stack hesitated. “I don’t know. It’ll mean I have to give up getting laid—”
“Not necessarily.”
Wait, fast rewind. Trying to look merely curious, he said, “What’s that?”
“I mean, I won’t do anything in the bathroom.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “And honestly, a closet isn’t sounding all that appealing, either. I prefer a bed. And nakedness.” Her attention dipped over him. “Overhead lighting wouldn’t hurt.”
His brain refused to function so he just stood there staring at her—visualizing every damn thing she’d just said, which included her naked in a bed under lots of light so he wouldn’t miss a single sizzling thing.
She kept talking, that slim hand extended, waiting for his agreement. “But I’m open to using my place—bed and light provided.”
The visual turned hot and vivid.
“That way you won’t have to worry about getting rid of me afterward. I promise to toss you out before you can even get nervous about it.”
Too stunned to think clearly, Stack said, “I don’t get nervous.”
“And just think,” she continued, “once you agree, then if any other men, like Leese for instance, ask me, I can say I already have a date.”
Blackmail. Very effective blackmail. “It’s months away.”
She nodded. “You’re free and clear in the meantime to carry on however you please. We can tell people we’re friend dates, if you want. Like I said, no strings attached.”
With his temples—and his dick—throbbing, he ran a hand through his hair.
Finally dropping her hand, she went on tiptoe to smooth the hair he’d just rumpled. “Relax, Stack. You have yourself all mussed and I really didn’t mean to rattle you so badly.”
His back teeth locked. “I don’t get rattled and I don’t get nervous.” She made him sound like a schoolboy.
“I take it your lack of an answer is the answer?” She gave him an indulgent smile and patted his arm. “Don’t worry. I understand. But I need to go see if I can catch up with Leese, maybe make him the same offer—”
Stack caught her elbow, and even that sent sensation from his palm straight to his already alert gonads. “Not rattled,” he clarified again. “But yeah, you surprised me.”
“Good thing we weren’t in the cage, huh?”
He smirked. “I’ve yet to have another fighter make the same offer you just did.” A deep breath helped him to feel his legs again. “So yeah, not a bad deal.” Fuck him, that sounded lame.
“Sex with me is not a bad deal? Why, Stack, I’m completely charmed.”
He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Such a relief.”
“Sex with you—” He mentally cast around, but couldn’t come up with the right words.
She stepped closer. “Yes?”
Not kissing her was tough, but hey, he was tough so he could handle it. Maybe. “How the hell am I supposed to think about anything else between now and the wedding?”
Her slow smile this time was genuine and sweet. “Aw, now I am charmed. Thank you.”
“So we have a deal?”
“Ironclad.” She patted his chest, lingered as she had on his back, then scooped up her purse in a rush. “I’ll see you around.”
That’s it? See you around? “You’re okay to drive?”
“Since the first drink was cola, and you only let me drink half of the second, yes, I’m fine.” She waggled her fingers at him in farewell and left with that shapely ass drawing attention from every red-blooded male in the joint.
But she wanted him to take her to the wedding.
She’d offered him sex.
He’d either just made the best deal of his life, or tied his own noose.
* * *
DENVER DIDN’T GET to the house until damn near nine o’clock. After sharing with Stack this new turn of events, he needed to see Cherry. To his surprise, he found her and Yvette sitting on the front porch talking to two of his fighter buddies, Miles and Brand, beneath a yellow porch light. As he opened his door and got out, he heard Cherry’s laugh. It carried on the night, curled inside him. Turned him on.
Nudged his possessiveness.
Which was dumb because any idiot could see they were just sitting around chatting. Being that they were part of the group, backup whenever Cannon needed it, he assumed Miles and Brand were there to keep a watchful eye out. Better the porch than cozy on the couch.
He trusted them, all of them.
Heading up the walkway, his small overnight case in hand, he saw Brand lean in and say something low to Cherry. While watching Denver she listened to Brand, and her smile made his jeans feel too tight. When she burst out laughing again, it did insane things to him, even when a spate of coughing followed the laugh.
Brand patted her on her back. Miles fanned her face.
She’d regained her breath before he reached her, leaving him free to catch the back of her neck and take her mouth in a kiss that no one would misunderstand.
When he finally lifted away, she said, “Denver,” in a breathy, surprised reprimand.
Brand, sitting closest to her, said, “If he pisses on you, don’t be surprised.”
“Marking his territory,” Miles agreed.
Rissy laughed. “You guys are so gross.”
Both men stood, stretched.
How long had they been there? Denver reached a hand down to Cherry and pulled her to her feet and into his side. “Still coughing?”
“Not much.” She slanted her attention at the guys. “Only when some people keep making me laugh.”
With two fingers under her chin, Denver brought her gaze back to him. “How do you feel?”
“Fine.”
“You sure?”
“Denver,” she whispered again, embarrassed. “Stop fussing.”
“I don’t fuss.”
Too late. Given their grins, the guys heard her and now he knew they’d be ribbing him for a month. He took the seat Miles vacated and, setting the overnight case aside, pulled Cherry into his lap.
Rissy gathered up half-empty glasses of iced tea and put them on a tray. “I need to head in, too. Tomorrow is another superearly day.”
“You work too much,” Miles told her.
She smiled, shrugged. “Not like I have much else to do.”
As she started in, all three guys shared a look. Damn.
Miles jumped forward to open the front door for her. “Thanks for the food.”
“I’m glad you liked it.”
Brand asked, “You aren’t dating what’s-his-name anymore?”
“That ended a while ago.”
“He’s still calling,” Cherry said. “He wants her back.”
Rissy rolled her eyes. “Not happening. Right now I’m just concentrating on a promotion at work. Fingers crossed.” She went on into the house, then said through the doorway, “Good night.”
After a round of good-nights from everyone, Denver teased his fingers up and down Cherry’s bare arm. She wore polka-dot flannel pajama pants and a cute matching T-shirt. A high ponytail held her blond curls away from her face and her bare feet, toenails painted pink, poked out from the hem of the overlong pants.
He wanted her, in too many ways to count.
“I feel like a voyeur,” Miles said. “Rein it in until I’m out of here.”
“We’re not doing anything!” Cherry protested.
Denver just smiled. No doubt both Brand and Miles knew the direction of his thoughts. Guy instinct.
Brand dug keys from his jeans. “We’re heading out, too.” He gave them each a devilish grin. “You kids be good now, you hear.”
As they walked away, Cherry tried to stand but Denver held tight. “What were you laughing abo
ut?”
“It’s terrible.” She turned her face into his neck, but he could feel her smile.
“Tell me.” He kissed her jaw, along to her ear. Breathing softly, he touched with his tongue, teasing the lobe, then inside the whorls.
She shifted and he felt her shiver.
“I want to know,” he whispered.
A balmy evening breeze drifted over them, heightening his senses. It seemed the more he wanted to protect her, the more he just plain wanted her.
She ducked her face again. “The guys were discussing close calls.”
“In the cage?”
She nodded, then looked at him. “Miles said you got...hit in an unfair place.”
The grin tugged at his mouth. “No way is that how Miles put it.”
“No.”
“Say it.” Teasing her, his tone a dare, he whispered, “Say it.”
Trying not to smile, she slicked her tongue over her lips. “He said you got nutted.”
“Yeah.” When she smiled, she looked even prettier—if such a thing were possible. “I remember that fight well.” A car door closed quietly, then another. An engine started. He turned his head to watch Brand’s SUV pull away from the curb. They’d parked a few houses up, maybe to keep any creeps from knowing they were around.
Since they all ended up on the front porch, it didn’t much matter in the end. But he appreciated their forethought.
“When you get racked, at first it doesn’t hurt,” Denver explained. “It takes a few seconds for it to sink in, but you know it’s coming, and then you just go sick and weak.”
“Miles said the ref didn’t see it.”
“Not until he watched the replay, and then he was full of wincing apologies.” Remembering made him grin. “Bastard kneed me so hard he cracked my cup.”
“On purpose?”
Her outrage almost made him laugh. “No, he was going for an inside leg kick. It happens and sometimes even the best ref misses things.”
“Tell me how you won.”
“If you know I won, then Miles and Brand already told you.”
Resting her cheek against his shoulder, she slipped her hand under the neckline of his shirt to stroke his heated skin. “I want to hear you tell it.”
Since it ended well, he didn’t mind. Shortly they’d have much more serious things to go over. Maybe that’s why she wanted to hear it, too.
