by Lori Foster
Abrupt and not caring, Harley said, “It’s getting late, Anastasia. My pants done yet?”
CHAPTER 2
ANASTASIA stared up at him, and Harley had the awful suspicion that she took him apart, analyzed all the pieces, and made conclusions on him in record time.
“What?” he asked with a little more heat than he intended.
A crooked smile appeared. “Nothing.”
“What?” he asked again.
She shook her head. “I just got caught in your eyes for a second there. You have…really intense eyes.”
As his temper racked up another notch, he crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at her. “My eyes?”
“Pfft.” She waved a hand at him. “Don’t act like you haven’t heard it before, Harley. With eyes like yours, I’m sure you’ve had plenty of comments.”
“Maybe.” Refusing to let her rile him, Harley calmed his breathing and wrestled for the upper hand. “But usually those type comments come from women who are in my bed.”
A surprised laugh burst out of her. “I can imagine!” In rapid order, her expression changed from humor to appalled embarrassment and she held up both hands. “No, wait, I don’t want to imagine.”
Harley caught her wrists and, very gently, tugged her a little closer. She was very fine boned. And warm to the touch.
Now this was more like it. Seeing Anastasia wide-eyed, like a deer caught in the headlights, put him at ease. He asked in a low murmur, “Why not?”
She looked at his mouth and swayed toward him. “Why not what?”
Harley smiled. Why had he thought Anastasia would be different? She melted as easily as every other woman.
He was both relieved—and disappointed. “Why don’t you want to imagine me in bed with a woman?”
Her gaze jerked up to his. She snorted and pulled away. “I’m too young for those type images, that’s why.”
Quickly turning away, she headed for the dryer, and the moment of hot sexual tension evaporated as if it had never been. “You know, Harley, not many people consider daybreak late, but your clothes should be dry by now. I’ll get them for you.”
So he had her on the run. Nice. But she’d recaptured her relaxed air and that annoying obliviousness to his state of undress. Not that he wanted her chasing after him.
Or did he?
While Anastasia went to retrieve his clothes from the dryer, Harley followed after her, automatically watching the sway of her hips, her loose-limbed gait.
Odd that he’d never before noticed the sexy way she had of moving. Of course, her lack of layers made it more obvious now.
“Dry and warm. Perfect.” She turned and almost bumped into him. With a startled expression, she said, “Good grief, Harley. You’re like a Ninja. I didn’t hear you move.”
Feeling provoked for reasons he couldn’t name, Harley looked down at her, but said nothing.
And he didn’t retreat.
With a laugh and a roll of her eyes, Anastasia moved back, and then handed over the clothes. “You’re dangerous, Harley, but I still want to thank you for chopping all that wood. It would have taken me all day.”
It would have taken her all week, but he didn’t point that out. He stepped into his pants. “Dangerous?”
“And you know it, so don’t pretend otherwise.”
“Funny thing, Anastasia, you don’t seem threatened.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, well, I’m more immune than most, I guess.”
“How so?”
“If I told you, it’d irritate you.”
That irritated him. “If you told me what?”
Sighing, and appearing very put-upon, she said, “You really want to do this?”
Yeah, he definitely…No wait. Harley yanked up his zipper. “Explain this.”
She waved a hand. “Banter back and forth. Get into the reasons why neither of us wants to get involved with the other.” She wrinkled her nose. “Hash out our innermost feelings.”
“God, no.” Given half a chance, Anastasia Hedrick could do what lethal light heavyweight fighters couldn’t.
She could scare him.
Her hand touched his shoulder, caressed, and finally patted—much like she might have touched an angry mutt. “That’s what I thought.”
In some indefinable way, Anastasia grew more infuriating, and sexy, with every passing second.
Harley pulled on his shirt and did a rapid change in topic. “Thanks for the cookies.”
“It’s the least I could do.”
With his shirt on but unbuttoned, Harley headed for the door.
Anastasia stayed close. “Let’s just hope the storms blow through and the electricity stays on.”
“Yeah.” He put his wallet and cell phone back in his jeans pocket.
Hands laced together in front of her, Anastasia fidgeted. “Well, if I don’t see you again, good luck in your fight.”
He gave her a quick look. “I’m scheduled here till the end of the month.”
“Another two weeks, I know. But out here, I don’t see anyone that often.”
“By choice?”
“Pretty much.” She smiled up at him. “You’re only half a mile away, and I seldom see you. After today, I figure the odds of running into you just deteriorated to slim and none, and Slim’s out of town. So I wanted to wish you luck before you go.”
She’d used a lot of words to say something simple. “You think I’ll avoid you.”
She didn’t have to confirm it for him; her expression said it all.
“Come on, Harley, stop thinking of me as a dummy. I’m a little more intuitive than you’d like, so yes, I know you’ll avoid me.”
And he would have. But now…“Will you miss me when I’m gone?”
The blunt question seemed to throw her, and she paused for a heartbeat. “I’ll watch you on pay-per-view.”
So she did watch. For unknown reasons, that gave Harley a lot of satisfaction. Perhaps because it meant she wasn’t so disinterested after all. “And wish I was closer?”
That got her laughing. “You’re incorrigible.”
True. Maybe he wasn’t the draw for her at all. Maybe she was just a fan of the sport. To find out, Harley asked, “You follow MMA competitions?”
“Not really. I’ve never gotten into any sport too much, but especially not the brutal stuff. I’ve only watched on the nights you’re fighting, and truthfully, I still don’t understand all the rules.”
He leaned against the wall. “But you still watch. When I fight.”
Her shoulders lifted. “I guess knowing someone makes it more interesting.”
Harley started to tell her just how interesting he could make things, and his cell phone rang. “Sorry. Excuse me a second.”
“Oh, sure.” Anastasia moved back to the dining table and began clearing it.
“Hello?”
“Hey, bro, how the hell are you?”
“Barber.” Harley glanced at his watch. “What are you doing up so early? Or haven’t you been to bed yet?”
“I’ll have you know I just left a warm bed. Not my own.”
“Braggart.” Harley grinned. “So you get laid, and then decide to call and pester me, huh?” Barber—who was not his brother—had the attitude and ability of a fighter, and the talent and career of a born musician. He was also funny as hell. From the start, they’d hit it off.
“Sure. Why not?”
“Dumbass. What if I’d been in bed?”
“You mean you aren’t? Damn, man, I’m disappointed. You’ve just sunk drastically in my esteem.”
Harley glanced toward Anastasia, saw she had her back to him, and murmured, “Actually, like you, I left a warm bed not that long ago. Then I saw my landlord chopping wood and stopped to help.”
“Landlord, huh? Well ain’t you a regular Boy Scout? I’m sure the guy appreciates it.”
Harley sent another quick look toward Anastasia. Glossy and thick, her dark hair lay over her shoulders. Humming, she pret
ended to be busy. With every movement, her sweatshirt pulled against tempting curves. “I’m sure she does.”
“She?” A lot of innuendo hung in that single word. “Now it’s getting interesting.”
“Sorry, but it’s not.” Not really. “So how about you? What’s been happening? You wallowing in your new fame?” Barber’s band had recently landed a deal with the SBC fighting organization to provide music tracks to the biggest events.
“I’ve been known to wallow,” Barber admitted. “Things have been crazy busy, but right now I’m chillin’ and getting back to my roots. For the next month or so, the band and I are hanging out in Harmony, doing a gig for Roger’s Rodeo. So I’m here—and you aren’t. Dean said you were off licking your wounds. Sounds kinky and self-gratifying to me, but Dean wouldn’t elaborate.”
“Dean’s full of shit and you can tell him I said so.” They both respected Dean, so Barber took the comment as the good-natured gibe Harley meant it to be. “I was rehabbing my friggin’ elbow, and you know it.”
“Still? Man, it seems like eons ago that you dislocated that bitch.”
“Six weeks.” Six long, agonizing weeks—and another missed opportunity at the title belt.
“So where are you? I’ll come to you and you can share your stash of hot babes.”
Again, Harley’s gaze went to Anastasia. In the small space, how could she not hear every word? “Sorry, no harems here, only a limited selection of snow bunnies.” He saw Anastasia smile, and it annoyed him.
Why wasn’t she insulted?
Or more interested?
“Bullshit,” Barber said. “If that was the case, you wouldn’t be there.”
“Maybe.” Harley relaxed back against the wall—and continued to watch Anastasia.
With nothing left to do, she tried to give him privacy by staring out a window. He couldn’t stop himself from visually tracing the shape of her body.
The spark of deep interest ignited into a flame. That wouldn’t do.
Making up his mind, Harley said, “You know what? I’m anxious to get into some real training. I could probably head out of here in under a week.”
“Don’t cut your downtime short on my account. I’ll be around for a while.”
Anastasia turned to look at him. He’d never before left the cabin early, so his sudden announcement had to have thrown her.
Not that she showed it.
She just analyzed him…and came to her own conclusions.
While keeping his attention on Anastasia, Harley assured Barber, “It’s not a problem.”
The sooner he got away from her, the better off he’d be. He did not get involved with women like Anastasia.
He did not let women dissect him.
“I have a few things to take care of in town, but I should be done by the end of the week. Your lazy ass better be raring to go when I get there.”
Harley disconnected the call, and then said to Anastasia, “Sorry about that.”
“No problem.” She left the window and approached him.
“Something’s come up.”
“I heard.”
Harley waited for the inquisition.
She said nothing, just smiled up at him.
Well hell. He gave in first. “I know I was scheduled until—”
“No biggie. I’ll prorate your time here and mail you a reimbursement for the unused week.”
Like hell she would. He was the one breaking the contract, not her. “Keep it.”
She shrugged. “Fine.”
Damned, annoying woman. Then he caught the teasing glint in her eyes. Jesus, when was the last time he let a woman get his goat? Especially a woman who only agreed with him?
He crossed his arms. “You like being unpredictable, don’t you, Anastasia?”
“Absolutely.”
That she admitted it only made it worse. “You’re not going to ask me a single question, are you? Even though every other woman would.”
“We’ve already concluded that I’m not every other woman, haven’t we? At least, not where you’re concerned.” She patted Harley’s chest, surprising him. “If I’m unpredictable, then you’re inscrutable.”
She made it sound like an insult. “I call it private.”
“Call it whatever you want, but you wear it like a coat of armor.” After stepping around him, Anastasia opened the door to peer out. “It’s frigid, but the sleet has stopped for now.” She faced him again. “You better get going before the roads get too icy. Getting uphill to your cabin might not be too easy, even in a Jeep.”
Harley shrugged into his coat. “Worrying about me?”
“Now why would I do that? You’re a big boy.”
Anticipating her reaction, he said low, “And here I thought you hadn’t looked.”
Of course her gaze went straight to his lap. Harley almost laughed, especially when heat rushed into her cheeks, but he held it back.
Anastasia caught herself real quick and gave him a wry smile. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Just honest.” Still watching her, he added, “Or did you really not notice?”
Refusing to acknowledge the question, she held out her hand for a platonic farewell. “Until next year, Harley.”
Harley looked at that impersonal, outstretched hand, and made up his mind.
Screw it.
On impulse, because he couldn’t quite stop himself, he bent down, intending to kiss her good-bye.
Anastasia turned her face so that his mouth touched her cheek instead of her lips.
They both went still…for about three seconds.
In that blink of time, Harley registered the silky texture of her skin, the softness of her hair, the enticing scent of delicate warmth, unique to every woman.
He leaned away and studied her.
Bemused, Anastasia shook her head. “Sorry, Harley, but that’s just nasty.”
Masculine ego rebelled. “Nasty?” What the hell type of insult was that?
“You’ve been with another woman,” she said without accusation. “I have no idea where your mouth has been, but I know I don’t want it on my mouth afterward.”
Well hell. Harley felt like a kid who’d just been chastised. He was still trying to come up with a reply when she spoke again.
“Next time you think you want to kiss me, make me first on the list, and I might surprise you by being more agreeable.”
Next time? Not likely. He wasn’t entirely certain why he’d made the attempt this time. “Sure thing, Anastasia. I’ll try to remember that.”
Anastasia easily read him, and laughed. “No, you won’t. As soon as you leave here, you’ll forget we ever had this conversation. And truthfully, Harley, so will I. Now go before this becomes memorable.”
First insulted, and now ordered out.
Again, Harley told himself that he should never have stopped in the first place. But…he had to grin at her cajones. He saluted her and left.
In no way did Anastasia Bradley act like any other woman he’d known. But her uniqueness only made her more off-limits, because she’d be more complex. And he didn’t need any complications in his life.
This time, he’d have no distractions from his goal.
No. Definitely not.
Walking against the hard wind, Harley went to his Jeep, and he was still grinning when he got inside.
Too bad she was right, that he’d have to avoid her.
And even if he didn’t, he was leaving very soon. As she’d said, it was doubtful he’d see her again anyway.
He’d drop the key in her post office box in town, and then he’d drive away.
But…having a woman so quick-witted and independent tied to his bed for a few hours would be a special treat.
If Anastasia would agree—which he doubted.
But he could think about it. And Harley knew he would.
For hours.
Maybe even days.
AS Harley jogged past her house on the return to his cabin, Stasia stood
back from the window. At this time of year, night came early up in the hills, and with lights on inside, she’d be easily visible.
If he looked her way.
But he didn’t.
He jogged twice a day, once in the morning and then again at early evening. No matter how dreadful the weather got, as long as the road crews cleared a path, he was out, pushing himself, proving his stamina.
In between the jogging, he worked out at his cabin with a modest supply of weights and portable equipment.
And around that, he visited the town and did…God knew what.
But he’d be leaving soon, very soon, and so Stasia watched through the windows for him, always anxious for a glimpse.
They hadn’t spoken since that early morning three days ago.
She’d been mentally kicking her own butt ever since.
What in the world had she been thinking? It didn’t matter that the intelligent side of her insisted she’d done the right thing. It didn’t matter that her pride applauded her decision not to be another notch on his proverbial bedpost.
Harley Handleman had wanted to kiss her.
Probably the only time he’d ever want to kiss her.
Likely because she’d been flirting, leading him on, acting very out of character.
And she’d turned him down.
Not just saying no, but calling him nasty.
Acid burned her stomach with the appalling memory.
She hadn’t meant to flirt. But there was something about Harley that brought out her teasing nature.
Maybe it was his eyes. They were so vivid a blue, so piercing, that when he looked at her, she felt naked and had to fight the urge to conceal herself.
Or maybe it was his impressive physique. The man had strutted around in his underwear as if he did so every day, in front of presidents and popes alike. Not looking had been a sheer act of desperation.
He had the blond hair of a surfer, the body of an athlete, the eyes of an angel, and a charisma that could warm cold stone.
But most likely it was Harley’s wounded soul that drew her. When she looked at him, when she peered beyond the rugged exterior, she knew that he’d had some ugly things in his past, hurts that hadn’t gone away, memories that would haunt him forever.
He was the most capable man she’d ever met, and though he tried to hide it, also the most vulnerable. On many levels, she both liked and admired him. He was strong and self-sufficient, handsome and very fit. Relaxed and friendly.
