by Lori Foster
If it were anyone other than Yvette, it’d be amusing how his exposed chest and legs had thrown her. He couldn’t recall any other woman demanding that he get dressed. Hell, if she watched the fights as she claimed, she often saw him in nothing more than shorts.
Of course, that wasn’t so up close and personal. That wasn’t near enough to sense his lust and feel his need.
Unlike her, he’d wanted to drop the damn towel, get her hands on him, maybe skin her out of those damp duds she’d worn so he could reveal the heated body beneath….
“Cannon?”
She’d changed out of the sexy running shorts and into faded skinny jeans and replaced her sports bra and tank top with a red halter. Her feet were bare, her hair wet, her face clean of makeup and still he had a hell of a time getting his dick to behave.
Holding her gaze, he stood. “Feel better?”
“Yes.” Her hand trembled as she tucked her wet hair behind her ears.
The urge to strip her naked pulsed inside him. He kept his distance, working to get those crazy, overwhelming urges under control. “Have you eaten?”
“A donut in the park.”
His mood softened, going from pure red-hot lust to something even more uncomfortable, something like tenderness. “Was that so you could stay away longer?”
Shifting, she curled her toes against the carpet. “I run to help unwind. Whenever I start to get too keyed up, I can sweat off the tension.” She glanced down the hall, one shoulder rolling. “This morning took a little longer than usual.”
Since he did the same, he understood. He walked to where she stood, resisting the instinct to touch her. “Next time you want to run, let me know. I’ll go with you.”
Her gaze shot up to his.
She looked so horrified that he lifted a brow. He’d thought it was being home, in this house, that bothered her. But maybe not. “Or am I the reason you were wired?”
Disgruntled, she started down the hall. “You were part of it, yes.”
Watching the restrained swish of her sexy ass, he followed her into the kitchen. She was wired again—or still—so he let that go for now. “A donut is hardly breakfast. Are you hungry?”
“A little.”
“After we work out a few things, we could go by Rowdy’s for lunch.”
She reseated herself in the same chair she’d had earlier. “I don’t want to intrude.”
What the hell did that mean? “You’re not.” How could she intrude when he wanted to spend every available moment with her? And thinking that, he took his phone from his pocket. “Before I forget, what’s your number? I don’t like not being able to reach you.”
Lifting her chin, she asked, “Do I get your number, too, then?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.” Clearly that surprised her. “I just assumed… I mean, you’re famous now. I didn’t think you’d want your number out there.”
He slanted her a sideways look. “Yeah, don’t post it on Facebook or anything like that.”
“I wouldn’t!”
A perfect segue.
Sitting across from her, he kept a little distance between them this time. Otherwise he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his hands to himself.
That one kiss… It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but he’d completely lost himself. He’d meant to make it a small taste, to tease her, to appease his curiosity.
Instead he’d teased himself, and his curiosity was now at a fever pitch.
With little involvement on her part, he’d forgotten everything except Yvette, her taste, her touch, the comfort of having her close.
Unsettling, to be sure.
Everything she did, every facial expression, each small gesture, seemed specifically designed to turn him on. He knew it wasn’t deliberate.
And that only made it more disturbing.
“Speaking of Facebook…”
She frowned. “Were we?”
“Who’s Heath?”
She did a double take. “How do you—”
No reason to lie about it. “An alert popped up on your phone.”
Scowling, she snatched the phone off the table, tapped the screen a few times, quickly read and then went still with disquieting resolve.
“Yvette?”
That false smile slid back into place, leading the way toward feigned composure. She inhaled, blew it out as if gearing up. “He’s no one. A guy I dated for a little while.”
Bullshit. “He’s the one you said you broke up with before going to the fight?”
She shook her head. “No, that was someone else.”
Jealousy prickled, damn it. So she got around. He’d figured as much. Just looking at her, even with her not trying to look her best, he knew guys would flock to her.
Hoping to make light of it, he said, “Left a lot of broken hearts behind, huh?”
“No. No one’s heart was involved.” She chewed her bottom lip, then launched into more explanations. “I broke things off with Heath long before Grandpa passed. It wasn’t working out.”
“How so?”
That stalled her again.
Making him a little nuts, she nibbled her lip again in what he now recognized as nervousness. Cannon couldn’t stop himself from reaching out, smoothing with his thumb, freeing that soft flesh from the sharp bite of her teeth.
As his fingers cradled her face and his thumb drifted over her mouth, she went perfectly still, her eyes wary. Against his fingers, her cheek warmed.
Sliding his hand back into her damp hair, he relished the warmth and silkiness of her neck. “You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”
Her forced laugh bothered him more than her uncertainty. “There’s nothing to tell.” She caught his wrist. “And really, Cannon, I keep telling you I’m not that scared, clingy kid anymore.”
“I’m glad.” They sat like that for several heartbeats, his hand curved around her nape, her slender fingers holding his thick wrist. With one more caress, he retreated. “But if anything comes up, I’m here.”
“Here, in the house.”
Here, in her life—whether she wanted to accept that yet or not. “Since we’re sharing the house for now, we should keep each other up on plans, don’t you think? If we head off to different places, I’ll tell you when to expect me back.” That way, she wouldn’t be spooked when she heard him coming in.
“You aren’t accountable to me.”
Damn it, why did she insist on fighting him over every little detail? “It’s considerate,” he told her. “I’d expect you to do the same.”
As she thought about it, she licked her lips—and he had to swallow back a groan. Damn, but he wanted to kiss that mouth again, taste her deeper, longer.
All over.
He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Your buddy, Heath.”
“Not my buddy.” She set the phone on the table—facedown. “What about him?”
“He wasn’t thrilled to see you in a picture with me.”
She shrugged as if that didn’t matter. “He’s tried to get back with me a few times.”
The understated way she explained that told more than she meant it to. Apparently old Heath was still hung up on her. Not that Cannon could blame him. “You’re not interested?”
She huffed a short laugh. “No. Definitely not.”
Unwilling to let it go, Cannon shifted. “He seemed angry.”
“I think he misunderstood the picture—”
“No, he didn’t.”
Her widened eyes locked with his. She started to reply, but appeared to have run out of words.
Cannon didn’t mind explaining it to her. “Guys have a sixth sense about stuff like this. Poor old Heath knows what I want, and he’s not happy about it.”
“What you…?” She cleared her throat, frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Then, worrying a little, her voice small and hesitant, she asked, “What is it you want?”
“You.”
As if the one-word statement had grabbed her, she press
ed back in the chair and locked her hands on the seat at either side of her hips.
“I kissed you, Yvette. Not a friendly, token peck either.” And she’d kissed him back with enthusiasm—until she’d caught herself. He narrowed his eyes, determined to make her accept the truth. “My tongue was in your mouth, and we both liked it.”
More heat stained her cheeks; a pulse went wild in her pale throat.
Interesting. “You had to know.”
Worse than denying it, she said, “It doesn’t matter.”
The hell it didn’t.
Intrigued by her reaction but not overly concerned, Cannon tipped his head to study her. One way or another, he’d win her over. For the foreseeable future he’d be under the same roof with her, in close proximity. Anything and everything could happen.
He’d see to it.
Eventually he’d find that girl who had adored him, the one who’d wanted him enough to rely on him, to trust him completely.
But for now, he hoped to wade through her denials without scaring her off. “It matters to me.”
“Cannon, please.” She pressed fingertips to her temples. “You’re throwing too much at me at one time.”
True. She’d just lost her grandfather. Moved from California. Inherited a house and a business.
On top of all that, he’d moved in on her. To the world he could claim friendly, caring motives. The need to protect her from fear, from ugly memories, definitely existed.
But being honest with himself, he had to admit his intent centered mostly on getting her in bed. If he weren’t so raw with needing her, if it didn’t feel as if he’d suffered three years of heavy foreplay, he might have backed off, given her some space.
But he couldn’t.
He could, however, slow things down and give her a little more breathing room. “Let’s start with exchanging info.” After she got comfortable with having him around, then they could move on to exchanging more. A lot more. “If anything comes up with the legality of the property, we’ll need to be able to find each other, right?”
“What would come up?”
No time like the present. He only hoped he could steer her in the right direction. “Mindi Jarrett called.”
With a barely perceptible glitter, her eyes went from wary to antagonistic. “Who?”
Jealousy sounded in the tight query. Nice. He hated suffering alone. “The lawyer’s assistant.”
“Oh.” For a brief second, her thick lashes swept down as she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she muttered, “Sorry.”
Hiding his chuckle wasn’t easy. “She has an offer for us.”
“An offer for…?”
“The pawnshop. I didn’t ask how much. She wanted me to come meet her but I told her I’d talk to you and we’d both go. I’m supposed to call her back.”
She pushed out of the chair to pace. “I didn’t expect an offer so quickly. I’ve only driven by there once. I don’t really know what it’s worth or…”
“Or if you want to sell?”
She flagged a hand in the air. “We have to sell.”
Maybe. Leaning back against the table, Cannon crossed his ankles and watched her nervous stride around the small kitchen. “What is it you do?”
“Do?”
“For a living.”
“Oh, right.” She went to the sink—as far from him as she could get without actually leaving the room. Leaning back in a pose similar to his own, she said, “I’m an eBay vendor.” Without him asking, she explained. “I learned a lot working at the pawnshop, and eBay seemed like an easy way to use what I know. I take things from other people and auction them with a commission paid to me. But I also buy stuff at yard and estate sales, and overstock items to resell.”
“You make a living doing that?”
“I wasn’t getting rich, but I was able to live on my own and save for a rainy day.” Restless, she pushed off from the sink to pace again. “My friend Vanity works with me. We can both do any of the work, but mostly I take care of acquiring and listing the stuff with photos, and she mails off or delivers it after the sale. In fact, she’ll continue to do that with my remaining stock in California.”
“Vanity?” Unusual name for a girl.
Yvette nodded while tracking the perimeter of the kitchen, much like a caged pet. Her long stride drew his gaze repeatedly to her legs and her bare feet. Her vibrating energy was another new facet that he enjoyed.
“Vanity Baker. She’s gorgeous—you’d like her.”
“You’re gorgeous.” And I more than like you.
A smile teased her mouth. “Thank you, but Vanity is different. She’s a stereotypical California surfer. Tall, toned and tanned, with really long blond hair and…well, she’s stacked. She could be a living Barbie doll except that she despises anything pink.”
Not getting the reference, Cannon asked, “Pink?”
“Yeah, you know. Barbie has a pink car, a pink scooter, a pink house with pink furniture and so on.” She wrinkled her nose. “Everything is a Pepto-Bismol shade of pink.”
“Never realized.”
She cast him a look. “Your sister wasn’t into Barbie?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” He wanted her to understand something. “However pretty you think your friend is—”
“She’s beyond pretty, believe me. Men stop and stare.”
He shook his head. “They do that to you, too, Yvette.”
“Not really.” Parking at the sink again, she locked her hands together and flipped back her hair. “I guess you’d just have to meet Vanity to see what I mean.”
With no plans to head to Cali any time soon, he dismissed that possibility. “Let’s get back to your phone number.” The second he said it, her phone chimed with a text message.
They stared at each other.
Making no move to check the message, Yvette said, “Are you ready?” and she gave him her number.
After saving her in his contacts, he glanced at her phone. “Want me to put my number in for you?”
That got her feet moving. “No, I can do it.” She snatched up the phone, read the message, then clicked over to a new screen. “Okay, what is it?”
While reciting the number, Cannon moved closer. When she finished, he tipped up her chin. “Now. About tonight.”
Her gaze dropped to his mouth, then his chest, down to his abs and beyond. “Tonight?”
Keep it up, he thought, and I won’t last past the next five minutes.
CHAPTER SIX
WITHOUT REALIZING IT, Yvette went up on her tiptoes, drawn to Cannon, swaying in closer to his appeal.
The rough edge of his thumb teased under her chin, then up to her bottom lip again. He made a low sound of encouragement. “You’re begging to be kissed.”
That deep, affected tone stroked over her—until she realized what he’d said. Her heels landed back on the linoleum floor with jarring impact. “I— What?”
His sexy mouth quirked at her confusion. “Mindi called, remember? Did you want to meet with her tonight?”
Humiliation hit her like a dash of icy water. Good grief, she’d sent so many mixed signals, the poor guy was going to crash before she got her head on straight. “Right, sorry.”
“On second thought…” He scooped her in close and took her mouth in a warm, blessedly brief kiss. “I like your idea better.”
How could she resist so much temptation?
She could, because she had no choice. “Cannon—”
He shushed her with another, longer kiss.
With him moving at Mach speed, she couldn’t think clearly, especially when her bones turned to butter and his scent left her dizzy and he tasted so damn good.
Looping his arms loosely around her waist, he eased up but kept her against him. “You want some time, don’t you?”
An eternity, but grateful for the reprieve, she only nodded.
“I’ll try, all right?” His next kiss landed on her forehead. “Won’t be easy, though.”
<
br /> She’d always known that Cannon was rock solid and sexier than any guy should be. But she hadn’t realized that being a fighter would ramp up his already considerable confidence and hone his appeal, both emotional and physical. “I could tell you about hard.”
“That should be my line.” He nudged into her. “Any more kissing and I’ll have a full-fledged boner.”
What she felt wasn’t full-fledged?
“Again,” he added.
Right. Of course she’d noticed earlier. Impossible to ignore, really, though she’d tried.
His amusement kicked up another notch. “Looking at me like that isn’t helping.”
Realizing that she’d been staring at him while thinking about his erection, Yvette tried to wiggle out of his arms.
Cannon didn’t let her.
“Settle down.” He drew her in closer, one hand between her shoulder blades, the other just above her behind. “We have a lot of ground to cover yet, and to be honest, I prefer to settle it just like this.” He nuzzled against her temple, sending gooseflesh up and down her arms. “Okay?”
“Do I get a say in it?”
“Sure.” He tilted her back, his expression serious. “I’m listening.”
What could she say? I don’t want to start something I can’t finish? That’d lead to more questions, and she didn’t have enough answers.
Without meaning to, she smoothed her hands over his chest. There were so many wonderful places to touch him, each more enticing than the other. “I need to know how we’re going to work this.”
“This, meaning us?”
“This, meaning both of us here in this house together.” She tipped her head to judge his reaction. “I’m fine with us being considerate. It’s true that I’m still a little jumpy over being here and I’d appreciate knowing when to expect you, or when…when I might be here alone.”
“Ditto.”
Right. Surely Cannon didn’t expect her to believe that being in the house disturbed him. He was so much stronger than her. “But I don’t want to step on your toes.”
“I don’t know what that means, honey.”
His use of endearments kept throwing her. “It means that you’re back in town and plenty of women want your attention. This is rightfully your home—”
“Yvette—”
