by Lori Foster
“Stunning.” She made a mocking face. “Whatever.” But she kind of liked that, after all the creeps who’d admired her, Spencer found her appealing, too.
“Most men who look at you are going to admire you, Arizona. And yes, they’ll want you. They’ll think about seeing you naked, about having sex with you. It’s how men’s minds work. We’re visual, and we’re sexual. But that’s not a curse.”
Good God. Talk about blunt. “Sure feels like a curse to me!”
“Even if you were willing, nothing like that will happen between us. Not because I pity you,” he stressed, “but because you’re too young for me, you’ve been through too much to totally understand what you want or need, and you don’t entirely trust me.”
And he was still in love with his wife.
But Arizona wasn’t cruel enough to say that to him. Instead, she touched the cow-shaped handle on the serving knife. “I’m guessing your wife bought this?”
Drawing back, he stared at her—and shut down.
Undeterred, Arizona said, “It looks like the kind of stuff a wife would buy. A good wife, I mean.”
Picking up his fork, he dug into his cake. “What would a bad wife buy?”
“Drugs. Alcohol. I don’t know. That kind of stuff.”
He paused. “Arizona…”
“Will you tell me about her?”
He took two slow breaths and shook his head. “Eat your cake.”
“It’s almost too pretty to eat.” The sugar crystals on the flowers glittered. Between the layers, pinkish raspberry cream dripped out. She scooped up a big bite, ate it and groaned. “Oh, yeah. It tastes even better than it looks.”
She was almost done with the piece of cake when he said, “I know you went through my background.”
There’d be no point in denying it. “Yeah, well—”
“I don’t mind. I attempted to go through yours, too.”
He wouldn’t have found much—but she had. She knew all about his wife, how she’d died, and how he’d avoided any commitments since then.
But she wanted to know more. She wanted to know the small things, the nuances that made a man and woman stay together. Stay in love. Enjoy intimacy. “So you’ll tell me about her?”
Spencer took another drink of coffee and then set the cup down quietly. “No.”
Arizona tried to quell her curiosity, but he’d been so nosy, why shouldn’t she ask? It had been three years, after all. “Was she pretty?”
Slowly closing his eyes in a gesture of resignation, he put his forehead on a fist. He looked like he’d fallen asleep, but then he said, “She was pretty.”
Feeling absurdly blessed that he’d take part in the conversation, Arizona warmed. “I saw a small picture,” she volunteered. “But I couldn’t tell much.”
“Long brown hair.” He straightened in his seat again. “Not as dark or wavy as yours. Brown eyes. Fair-skinned.”
“Stacked?”
Shaking his head, he said, “Understated.” Done with his cake, he left the table and carried his plate to the sink.
Arizona wolfed down the rest of hers and joined him. “I can do the dishes.”
“I’ll only rinse and put them in the dishwasher.”
“Oh.” He bumped into her, gave her a level look, and with an expression of apology, she moved to the side. But not too far away. “She was your first love?”
“She was…everything.”
He made it sound as if he planned to be single the rest of his life, or as if he assumed he’d never fall in love again. “You married young?”
“Right after she finished college.” He closed the dishwasher. Keeping his back to her, his hands braced on the sink, arms stiff, he said, “She was two years younger than me. A dental assistant with a quirky sense of style, as you can tell by all the cow decor everywhere.”
“I like it.” It made everything feel real homey. “It’s a nice house.” Older, small but very neat, with hardwood floors, cove ceilings and tall baseboards.
Spencer nodded. “She loved this house. Loved being married, too, and she loved me. Eventually, she wanted kids. We were thinking another year or so, but then…”
Then her life had been cut short. Taking a cue from Spencer, Arizona tentatively touched his arm, and waited.
As if the gesture surprised him, Spencer stalled but only for a moment. “She stopped at a convenience store one night on her way home from work. Two men—”
“Part of a human trafficking ring,” she supplied, knowing that from the background check she’d done on him.
“Yeah. They were trying to drag a woman out of there, my wife intervened…”
His hands fisted, and Arizona, feeling really, really awkward, moved her hand from his arm to his back. “I’m sorry.”
“A store clerk died that day, too. Another customer was injured.”
“Senseless. But that’s how it always is. Senseless and cruel and—”
He stepped away from her. “Enough about that.”
Her hand dropped. “You got the guys who shot her.”
“I did. But they were only a small part of a bigger operation.” He squared off with her. “I had as much right to go after Chandra as you did.”
Chandra had been the brains behind that particular ring. Arizona knew, since it was Chandra who’d caught her, twice. Chandra who’d trafficked her. Chandra who’d arranged her street education.
Chandra who’d tried to kill her.
“That’s sort of what I was thinking, actually.” Arizona leaned back on the counter. “We have that in common, when usually I don’t have anything in common with anyone. Since we both want the same things, I’d be willing to forgive how you robbed me of personal justice, if we work together.”
On alert, Spencer took a stance and scowled at her. “We are working together. The Green Goose, right? That’s what you’re talking about?”
“Yeah, the bar and grill.” She tried not to look unsure of herself. “But we could do more than that if you wanted. I could find trafficking rings, do some background on them, and you could be my muscle.”
His eyes narrowed—not a promising sign.
“You’re up for it, right?” Trying for a joke, Arizona reached out and squeezed his upper arm.
Solid with strength. And she knew firsthand about his fast reflexes.
No doubt about it: Spencer was a big bundle of raw power and astounding ability. She admired strength a lot. In his case…maybe too much.
Crossing her arms, she tried really hard to look and sound unaffected. “So, Spence. What do you say? You want to partner up with me on a more permanent basis?”
CHAPTER FIVE
“IT’S SPENCER, AND YOU KNOW IT.” He took her arm and started her toward the living room. “Why do you insist on butchering my name?”
“Actually…I don’t know.” She put on her brakes. “Where are we going?”
“I figured we’d watch some television. Maybe a movie or something.”
After a big yawn, she pulled free. “I need to get going. Burning the candle at both ends has me more tired than usual. I need some shut-eye.”
Shit. He glanced at his watch. “It’s only eight o’clock.”
“Early to bed, early to rise and all that.” She started for the front door and her shoes.
“You get up early?”
“I get up whenever I wake. And more often than not, I can’t sleep. So—”
“Why can’t you sleep?”
Impatient, she glanced back at him. “I’ll tell you all about my sleeping habits—tomorrow.” She bent and pulled on first one unlaced sneaker, then the other.
Arizona had “sloppy” down to a fine art. But i
t was a look that complemented her attitude. “We still need to talk about the Green Goose. How are we going in, what time, every little detail.” Had Trace already disabled her car? She wanted to leave sooner than he’d anticipated—not that anyone could accurately anticipate anything with Arizona. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”
“I’ve got some ideas for that. We can talk about it tomorrow morning.” Her mouth curled in an acerbic smile. “Or do you have plans with Marla?”
Ignoring that, he said, “Why the big rush?”
She opened the door. “Told you. I’m tired.”
Hot, humid air, thick with the threat of a storm, blasted him as he followed her out. He needed to think of a way to stall her.
Maybe if he hadn’t been so touchy discussing his past… But no, he couldn’t go there. As an alternative, he asked, “Where are you staying?”
Without looking at him, she said, “Just a motel.”
Suspicions bloomed. “What motel?”
“A random dive.” Halfway down the sidewalk, she glanced over at Marla’s house. “Should you be dogging my heels like this? You know your girlfriend probably has her nose to the window, watching your every move.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.” He glanced that way, too, and saw a shadow shift from the window. Damn. Catching Arizona before she reached her car, he said, “Forget Marla. Why are you dodging the question?”
“What question?”
He growled out an impatient breath. “The question about where you’re staying.”
“I wasn’t.” She opened her car door to let out the heat and then leaned on the fender. “Thing is, you haven’t yet agreed to be my partner, so why should I tell you anything?”
“Blackmail?”
Her eyes, now bright with mischief, looked even bluer out in the natural light. “Coercion.”
Tension mounted in the back of his neck. He rubbed a knotted muscle, but it didn’t help. “I’ll think about the partnership thing.” And he’d talk to Trace and Dare…
“Yeah.” Her gaze went to his hand. “You do that.”
With nothing else to say, Spencer stepped back, and she got into her car. “Whenever you wake up is a pretty loose time frame. Can’t you narrow it down a little?”
She put the key in the ignition. “I don’t know. Let’s say between 5:00 a.m. and noon.”
Would she sneak in again and watch him sleep? Not like he’d even be able to sleep with that possibility looming.
He gripped the frame of the open window. “I can track you down, you know. I can find out where you’re staying.”
“You think so?” She turned the key—and nothing happened. With a frown, she said, “We’ll see.”
And she tried the car again.
Dead. Completely.
Relieved, Spencer stepped back, wondering how she’d react.
It was something to see, the way her brows pulled down, her eyes glittered, and angry color flooded her face. She pumped the gas, tried again and, after visibly gathering steam, opened her car door and stepped out. She slammed her door. Hard.
It didn’t take a genius to see she was pissed. Really pissed. The darkening sky had nothing on her.
Deadpan, he asked, “Car won’t start?”
Her locked teeth sawed together. “Let’s go.”
Fascinating. He’d never seen a woman as visually expressive as Arizona. “Where to, exactly?”
“Back inside.” She headed that way but said over her shoulder, “Unless you want me to lose it out here, for all your nice, domestic neighbors to witness.”
“Inside it is.” A little amused, a lot pleased, he trailed behind her.
Unfortunately, Marla stepped out to her porch. Wearing a low-cut top and a look of censure, she opened her mouth, and Arizona swung around to her, snarling, “Don’t.” She sucked in a breath. “Just…don’t.” After that dire warning, she stormed on into his house.
Marla stood there looking hurt.
Double damn. Apologetic, Spencer said to her, “Sorry. She’s having a bad day.”
Marla’s impressive chest heaved a little. “I suppose she’ll have a better night?”
“Marla,” he chided. “I told you it wasn’t like that—for you or her.”
She gathered herself. “I don’t understand you.”
“You do, you just don’t want to.”
“It was good between us.”
“Yes.” And maybe if he hadn’t met Arizona…but he had. “I need to go.”
“Wait!” She licked her lips. “Do you think it’s going to storm?”
With a quick glance at the sky, he said, “Probably.” He knew right where this was going. “Your roof’s still leaking?”
“Yes.” She leaned on the railing, deliberately giving him an eyeful of cleavage. “It’s the ceiling in my bedroom. Any…suggestions?”
“Yeah. Put out a few buckets—and call a repairman as soon as you can. With these old roofs, they’re as likely to cave in as leak.” He’d have felt guilty for not offering any real help, except that her roof had been bad since winter, and she didn’t repair it because she’d rather use it as a female ploy to get him back in bed.
Giving her a salute, Spencer went in. He’d barely gotten the door shut before Arizona was there, rising on tiptoe to blast him.
* * *
IN BATTLE MODE, Arizona jabbed him hard in the chest with one finger. “You told Jackson!”
“No.” With his good mood quickly souring, he stepped around her.
She grabbed his arm. “You did! You said something to him, and that’s why he disabled my car.”
Infusing iron in his tone, Spencer said, “You realize you’re calling me a liar, right?”
But she was too angry to relent. “I trusted you!”
“Baloney! You’re about as trusting as a junkyard dog.”
She gasped.
“But I did not tell Jackson, and I’d appreciate it if you’d quit yelling like a kid having a temper tantrum!”
Since he’d ended with his own yelling, the insult was ludicrous at best.
Fury colored her face and kept her eyes narrowed. “Okay, fine. Let’s just see.” And for an additional dig, she said, “Jackson will tell me the truth.”
“You’re going to call him?” That worked fine by him. She’d be the one to let her erstwhile protector know the score, and at the same time she’d learn the truth. Spencer gestured at her. “Feel free.”
“I will!” She dug out her cell phone from her back pocket and hit a speed dial number.
Because he didn’t want to miss a word, Spencer said, “Dare you to put it on speaker phone.”
“Feeling nosy?” she sneered.
“I don’t trust you to admit to my acquittal.” He almost smiled, knowing she wouldn’t be able to resist his taunt. “Or are you afraid of what I’ll hear?”
* * *
“HA!” KEEPING HER ANGRY GAZE locked on his, Arizona hit the speaker button. Her car was dead, and she knew it wasn’t by accident. She’d been around Jackson too long to miss the signs of interference.
Because she hadn’t used the emergency number, Jackson answered with a greeting, instead of silence. “Hey, Arizona. What’s up?”
At the sound of his voice, she brightened with triumph. “What did you do to my car?” Did they really think they could bully her? That she was too dumb to recognize how they worked? Fat chance. She wasn’t an idiot.
“What’s that?” A new alertness entered Jackson’s tone. “Something’s wrong with your car?”
Uh-oh. He sounded pretty sincere. “No use denying it,” she pressed. “I know you disabled it somehow.”
“Not me. Alani and I are at
dinner with Dare and Molly.” And then with suspicion, “Where did you say you are?”
Crap. Was it possible that the car’s battery had died somehow? It didn’t seem likely.
“Arizona?”
Deflated, she admitted, “I’m at Spencer’s.”
“Yeah?” A smile sounded through the call. “Doing what?”
“Never mind.” Oh, this was awkward. And Spencer looked so smug. “My car won’t start. It’s totally dead. You sure you didn’t tamper with it?”
“Why would I? What are you up to— Oh, wait.”
She heard muted voices, a brief conversation, and then Jackson came back on the line. “Reckon it was Trace.” And before she could get riled about that, he said, “Why didn’t you remind me that it was your birthday?”
No! No, no, no. How did he realize it now? She groaned, long and dramatic.
“Stop that,” Jackson said. “You should have told me. More to the point, I should have remembered.” His voice deepened. “I’m sorry that I’ve been distracted.”
“Don’t.” Her throat closed up. She absolutely would not look at Spencer. “You’re getting married, for crying out loud. You’re going to be a dad. You have enough on your mind already.”
“That’s not a good excuse.”
She needed to end this, and fast. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter.”
“The hell it doesn’t.”
Time to shoot off in a new direction. “What did Dare tell you? Why does he think it was Trace?”
“Spencer talked to Trace.”
Aha! “That—”
“And Trace told Dare. But no one told me because you swore everyone to secrecy, and I have to tell you, that annoys the hell out of me.”
“Oh. Umm…” She could practically feel Spencer gloating. “Yeah, about that. It’s just that I…”
“You were supposed to be researching, hon. For me. You were not supposed to branch off on your own.”
“Well, I…”
“Don’t compound it now by fibbing to me.” He laughed as he said that, removing any real insult. “I’m glad you’re there with Spencer, and I’m doubly glad you had enough sense to get him involved rather than charging into a mess alone.”
