by Lori Foster
“I can’t.”
His ragged breathing stole some of her anger. She had dated this man for months, she’d been as intimate with him as she was capable of being, so some level of compassion remained. “Are you okay?”
“Come home, Yvette.”
Her shoulders sagged—in relief. Obviously he hadn’t left California as he’d claimed, or he wouldn’t want her to return there. She knew the nicest thing she could do for him was to make him understand that things were over. Gently, but with firm insistence, she said, “I can’t.”
Defeat left his tone, replaced with a surprising explosion of rage. “Or you won’t?”
She was so tired of his anger, of his mood swinging from adoration to loathing. “Both. But, Heath, it doesn’t matter.” As calmly as she could, she laid it out for him. “Even if I was there, we weren’t together anymore. We’ll never be together again. Please believe me. It’s over.”
A chilling laugh sounded through the phone. “You can be such a fucking bitch sometimes.”
“Heath—”
“Does your new boyfriend know that? Does he know what a lousy lay you are? Does he realize your heart is so fucking frozen that all you do is lie there and—”
Breathing hard, her compassion blown, Yvette disconnected the call. Shaking all over, she badly wanted to throw the phone, but what good would that do?
“What is it?”
At the sound of Cannon’s voice, she screeched and jumped a foot. When she whipped around, Cannon stood there in the open garage door, his gaze far too astute.
“Dear God, you startled me.”
He didn’t move toward her. “That was Heath?”
Expelling a big breath, she nodded. “Yes. He was…unhappy.” She almost snorted at herself. Such an understatement.
“How many people have your number?”
“Not many. You. Vanity.” She made a face. “Heath.”
“Let’s get you a new phone and a new number.”
Since he didn’t come to her, she felt uncertain of his mood. Always, every single time, Cannon greeted her with soft kisses and smiles.
“I can just block him.”
Suspicion brightened his blue eyes. “Then why haven’t you?”
“He wasn’t that nasty before.”
“And you feel sorry for him?”
More like guilty—but not anymore. Sweat gathered between her breasts and at the small of her back. Loose hairs from her braid stuck to her temples.
Cannon was in much the same shape, his T-shirt sticking to his skin in several places, his glossy dark hair damp with sweat.
Setting the phone aside, Yvette plucked at her shirt, letting some air underneath. “Did you jog in this heat?”
His attention sharpened as he looked her over. “No.” He peeled off his shirt and used it to swipe over his chest. “I usually shower at the rec center, but it was packed today, so I figured I’d shower here instead.”
Despite Heath’s recent attack, a smile tugged at her mouth. “More guys are showing up because you’re there.”
“Yeah.” He strode closer, his gaze locked with hers. “Armie says I’m good for business. I think he signed up ten new guys today alone.”
From what she understood, the more MMA devotees who signed up, the more programs they could offer to the at-risk kids in the neighborhood.
“That’s nice.”
Focused on her, he got closer.
She tried to pull her gaze away but couldn’t. “Cannon…”
He stopped in front of her, looking all over her, especially at where her shirt stuck to her breasts. “It’s hot as hell in here.”
Staring up at him, suddenly breathless, she whispered, “No air circulation.”
With a touch of awe, Cannon trailed his rough fingertips down her throat, back and forth over her upper chest, then teased down into her cleavage. “How can you look so fucking sexy even now?”
He rarely cursed in front of her, and hearing it now with that particular rasp in his voice shook her. “I don’t. I’m a mess.”
“No.” He bent to open his mouth on her throat, his lips lingering against her heated, damp skin. One hand opened on her waist, then slowly, so damn slowly, moved under her shirt and up, until he covered her breast.
They both went still, Yvette breathing heavily, Cannon growling softly.
Sweltering hot, humid air hung heavily around them. Outside the garage, a bird chirped. Somewhere nearby a car door closed.
With his face still against her throat, Cannon moved his thumb up and over her nipple.
“Hope I’m not intruding,” said an amused female voice.
Yvette tried to jerk away, but Cannon held her still for a heartbeat, then turned, tucking her behind him.
“Hey,” he said to their visitor. “Wasn’t expecting you.”
Yvette peeked around Cannon’s bare shoulder and saw the lawyer’s assistant. Despite the heat wave, she had on full makeup, including bright red lips. Beneath a silky blue sleeveless blouse, tan tailored skirt and high-heeled sandals, she looked cool and chic.
And even with Yvette watching her, she ogled Cannon’s naked upper body.
After a slow lick of her glossy lips, she murmured, “You’ve healed up nicely, though I can still see a few faded bruises.”
Yvette’s hair nearly stood on end. Had Mindi seen Cannon shirtless already? Had she—
“Should have seen it before,” Cannon told her, alleviating Yvette’s worry without even knowing it. “I was pretty colorful there for a while. But yeah, I heal quick.” He cocked his head. “So what’s up?”
“I’m sorry to just drop in, Cannon, but you didn’t return my call.”
Another call? Yvette stepped around in front of him.
Mindi slid her gaze over her, taking in all the sweat and dust with barely veiled disdain. “Ms. Sweeny.”
Trying not to sound mean or territorial—no matter how she felt—Yvette said, “Ms. Jarrett.”
Changing tactics, the woman put on a sympathetic face and crooned, “How are you, honey?”
The demeaning tone meant for the “poor little lost girl” cut right through Yvette, leaving a swatch of pain in its wake. “What do you mean?” Just how much of her past did the assistant know?
“You lost your grandfather, relocated… I’m sure it’s been difficult.”
Inner trembling settled, and the constriction left her lungs. So her facade of sympathy wasn’t about the past, but the present. “We’re fine, thank you.” She stressed the word we.
Still with exaggerated pity, one hand to her chest, Mindi asked, “No bad moments?”
Indignation rising, Yvette stiffened. “Excuse me?”
“Being back here, in this house? I understand you suffered serious trauma.”
Oh, God. Had Cannon told her everything? Her heart plummeted and sick betrayal rose up to burn her throat.
“I don’t know the details, of course, but your grandfather hinted—”
“What? What did he tell you?” She refused to believe her grandfather had discussed anything with the woman.
“Oh, honey,” she crooned. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Putting his hands on her shoulders, Cannon asked, “What can we do for you, Mindi?”
Nettled, Yvette couldn’t miss how familiarly they addressed each other. She was Ms. Sweeny, but he was simply Cannon.
“We should talk.” Mindi stepped just inside the garage, which left the sun behind her to make a glowing halo of her pale blond hair and her shapely figure.
Yvette disliked her more by the second, but not as much as she disliked the situation.
She would not be a weak person.
Raising her chin, she faced Mindi. “What is there to talk about? Has Mr. Whitaker sent you here for a reason?” There, she thought. Deal with that.
Mindi’s smile hardened. “Frank knows I’m here, if that’s what you mean.” She turned to Cannon. “I didn’t hear back from you.”
; “There’s nothing more to talk about,” Cannon said, his hands now massaging Yvette’s shoulders. “We’re staying.”
Mindi fanned a hand in front of her face, trying to stir the heavy air. “But I explained that my friend had upped his offer.”
“Doesn’t change anything,” Cannon said.
Another offer? That was news to Yvette. Just how many times had Mindi called him? Not that it mattered, Cannon was right about that. The longer she remained, the more she wanted it to be forever.
“You haven’t heard the offer,” Mindi said, now trailing her manicured fingertips over the many boxes stacked in the garage.
Yvette hid her hands behind her, until she realized that put them right over Cannon’s fly. His only reaction was to tighten his hold on her shoulders.
Flushing, she pulled them around front again, curling her hands to hide her short fingernails. “I’m not selling.”
Smiling, Cannon repeated, “We’re not selling.”
The sweet scent of Mindi’s expensive perfume dissipated in the musty garage. “You realize that staying here, in this house, doesn’t require you to keep the pawnshop.” As Mindi said that, she looked at Yvette. “You have a big career that leaves little time for unimportant distractions.”
Getting the not-so-subtle message that she was an unimportant distraction, Yvette shimmered with anger. “I’ll run the shop.”
“And you can buy out Cannon?” Mindi lifted one box lid to peek inside, but bubble wrap hid the contents. “Because I know half of it was his.”
“What it is,” Cannon said firmly, stepping around Yvette to close the box again, “is none of your business.”
Both women stared at him. It surprised Yvette that he could say something so insulting without any sign of anger. He’d sounded almost tender, as if he’d given the woman a compliment.
Of course she knew he had a reputation for making friends with every woman he met, but she’d never seen him in action before.
“True, of course.” Mindi’s mouth pursed and annoyance narrowed her eyes. “I’m sorry if I’m overstepping myself, but—”
“It’s fine,” Cannon cut in, then added, “as long as you stop now.”
A palpable silence throbbed in the air.
Mindi smiled. “Yes, of course. I apologize.” Instead of withdrawing, she took in the cluttered garage. “So what is all this?”
Knowing Mindi addressed Cannon didn’t stop Yvette from answering. “It’s inventory for the shop.”
“Tipton’s leavings?” She peered into the box closest to her. “Have you found anything interesting?”
“Much of this is from a business I had.”
“Oh.” She closed the box. “Have you gone through Tipton’s storage units yet?”
Not liking her nosiness, or the familiar way she used her grandfather’s name, Yvette stayed mum.
Cannon filled in the silence, saying vaguely, “One thing at a time.”
“I see.” She smiled at Cannon. “Well, I should be going now. If you change your mind—about anything—please let me know.”
Cannon moved to her side and took her arm. “I’ll walk you out.”
Oh, now wait a minute! Yvette wanted to protest, but Cannon glanced over his shoulder at her. “Be right back.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
OF ALL THE… More than a little furious at being dismissed, Yvette went through the interior door into the house, but resisted the urge to slam it shut. She didn’t want Mindi to know she was bothered.
Choosing not to wait for Cannon to finish his private talk, she went into her bedroom, locked the door, then into the bathroom for a cool shower.
He could talk to Mindi for as long as he wanted. She didn’t care.
Or rather, she didn’t want to care. Damn it.
Knowing she’d never look as elegant as Mindi, she didn’t even try. After drying off, she put on lotion, took her long hair out of the braid and dressed in an oversize logo T-shirt and cutoff shorts.
When she left her room, she found Cannon in the kitchen cooking, also freshly showered and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. They were both barefoot. But that was where the similarities ended.
Unlike her shirt that fell loose around her body, his fit his muscled torso to perfection.
Whereas her cutoffs resembled Daisy Dukes, his cargo shorts went down to his knees.
With the braid out, her hair hung in long ripples. He’d finger combed his wet, inky black hair, leaving it rumpled.
Given how smooth his jaw looked, he might have shaved.
As he chopped an onion, she watched the movement of muscles in his back and shoulders. It was seriously unfair that any man could look so good.
“Come on in,” he said. “I’ll have dinner ready in a few minutes.”
Yvette headed to the fridge for a cola, but when she saw his big icy pitcher of sugarless tea, she chose that instead.
His good habits were contagious.
“Pour me one, too, will you?”
“Sure.” Trying for a note of diplomacy, she asked, “So. What did you and Mindi have to talk about?”
“Told her I had to renege on her rain check, that’s all.” He used the edge of the butcher knife to push the onions off the cutting board and into a hot skillet with olive oil.
“Uh-huh.” Giving herself a minute to think, she poured the tea, set his beside him and took a long drink of her own. “A rain check for what, exactly?” He’d told her he wouldn’t see anyone else, so unless they had some important business to discuss that—
“Sex.”
Choking, she put the back of her hand to her mouth and wheezed for air.
Cannon glanced her way. “You okay?”
Nodding hard, she gestured for him to continue.
“She hit on me at Whitaker’s office when I first got home.”
Finally able to get a strangled breath, she rasped, “At the lawyer’s office?”
“Yeah. Whitaker had to take off for court, we were alone, she was interested and didn’t mind saying so.” He hitched one shoulder in disinterest. “I gave her a rain check, though, because, well, you know, I was pretty banged up, and the idea of Tipton leaving me half his stuff really threw me off stride. Then I met up with you again and…” His gaze dipped over her, sticking a moment on her thighs. “Not interested in Mindi.”
Swelling with umbrage, Yvette plunked her glass down onto the table. “She’s still interested.”
He flashed her a grin. “Yeah, I know. She said so. Got all grabby and stuff right out there on the sidewalk.”
Both hurt and furious, Yvette stared at him. Pride took over. “I hope you didn’t turn her down on my account.”
“You know I did.”
Fighting herself more than Cannon, she said, “I told you I couldn’t—”
“I remember what you said.” He began to dice a tomato. “You offered to accommodate me.”
Did he want her to do that? Now? And if so, why’d he sound so curt when bringing it up?
Her heart felt too heavy to stay in her chest. “Yes. But that was nearly a week ago.”
“You’ve changed your mind?”
Resenting that she had to offer again, she lifted her chin. “No.”
“Good, because I only want you.”
Then why was he still waiting? “You’re sure about that?”
He laughed. “Positive. So why would I mess around with Mindi?”
Maybe because Mindi didn’t have any hang-ups?
“I wouldn’t,” he said, answering his own question. “But apparently she hasn’t caught on to that yet, so now seemed like a good time to clear things up. I didn’t see any reason to be cruel about it, especially after I let her think I might be willing. Before you.”
“So you explained it to her?”
He nodded. “She understands now.”
Yeah, sure she did.
The silence stretched out until Yvette felt compelled to say something. “What can I do to help?”
“With Mindi? I took care of it.”
She gnashed her teeth. “With dinner.”
Barely suppressing his humor, Cannon quirked a smile. “Oh, right. Gotcha.”
Damn it. It was too hot to cook and she was in no mood to be teased. “Forget it.” She put her empty glass in the sink and would have walked out, but Cannon forestalled her temper by wrapping those strong arms around her and trapping her against the counter.
“You’re killing me, you know that, right? These shorts… You could be lethal.”
He pressed his hips in against her denim-covered behind.
“I want you nonstop. Only you.” He nuzzled against the side of her neck, effectively melting her anger, if not her hurt. “Even when you’re confused about things.” A damp kiss. “Or jealous?”
“Cannon.” Her willpower waned, but she got out the protest. “I’m mad.”
“Don’t be.” He teased his nose behind her ear. “Damn, you always smell so good, even earlier when you were sweaty.”
It took so little for him to turn her on. “I do not.”
“I want to breathe you in all over.”
Before she could get too excited over that, he gave her one of his gentle love bites on her shoulder muscle.
As usual, her toes curled and her belly did a somersault.
As if he knew, he opened a firm hand over her stomach, above the waistband of the hip-hugging shorts. Through the cotton of the T-shirt, she felt the heat of his palm. “Know what I want to do?”
She had an idea, but still asked, “What?”
“First I want to kiss away your mad, or your confusion or jealousy or whatever it is you’re feeling.”
All of the above, actually, and yes, him kissing it away seemed like a terrific idea. Eyes closed, she sighed. “And second?”
“I want to enjoy dinner with you.”
Her eyes popped open again. She had been expecting something altogether different from him. “Dinner. Really? Oookay.”
Smiling against her sensitive neck, he added, “And then…” His hand crept back up to her breast, this time outside her T-shirt. While cuddling and stroking, he said in a hushed, husky whisper, “I want to touch you some more. Like this, but without your shirt in the way.”
The soft groan came of its own volition.
