by Lori Foster
Hadn’t she and Spencer covered their connection even then? Or, no, wait—they’d sort of fought together against a few of the rowdier drunks. Joel had been there, but far as she could remember, he hadn’t gotten hurt. Spencer’s bimbo had already split, so she hadn’t been around.
But Terry Janes…no, she hadn’t come across him again. She hadn’t seen Carl, either—not until he tried jumping her in the alley outside the bar.
She had no memory of Quin being about at all.
“The raid that shut down the bar?” Quin prompted. “You were with the artist, and with Mr. Janes. There was a fight, and then the police came.”
Oh, God. She didn’t know whether to trust him or not. He sounded like Quin, but the boy she’d met had been almost silent. She couldn’t imagine him calling her for a chat.
After chewing her lip, Arizona asked, “Is this really you, Quin?”
Flat, with no inflection at all, he replied, “Who else would it be?”
If only she had a few minutes to think, or if she’d anticipated this—but she’d gone straight from waking, to wanting Spencer, to indulging her first full-participant carnal encounter—with no time for configuring various scenarios about her performance of the night before. “I don’t know. What happened to Joel? Did he get hurt in the fight?”
“I can not say.”
“What about Terry Janes?”
“Again, I do not know.”
She chewed her lips, weighing his answers, trying to find the truth in them.
At her continued silence, he asked, “You did not want me to call you?”
“Sure I did.” But the circumstances had all changed. She didn’t need to get closer to him now, because thanks to Dare, it was shut down. Permanently.
Quin was safe. Or…at least he should have been.
Why hadn’t they gathered Quin into the net, though? Why wasn’t he in some kind of safe house, getting questions answered? Being reunited with loved ones? She’d thought—
“Candy? Are you still there?”
“Yeah.” She had to get it together. Now. “Sorry. I drank way too much last night and I’m still a little hungover.”
“I know. I saw.” With sympathy, he added, “You had no choice but to drink, and I had no choice—”
“It’s okay.” Quin had to play along, or he’d be hurt. She got that. “So I don’t have a job?”
“You truly do not remember?”
“I remember I got hired.” Without any real despondence, she added, “Bummer that the job is gone.”
He drew a breath, then shattered what remained of her cool composure. “Do you think I could see you, Candy?”
Oh, no, no, no.
“See me?”
“We could meet somewhere. And…talk. I can tell you about the raid, explain all that has happened. I could even help you find another job. A better job.”
She needed a viable excuse, and she needed it fast. She needed a plan even more. “Umm…”
“It is important that I speak to you,” he stressed, and a certain strain sounded in his tone. A strain of desperation. “I…I need your help.”
“Okay, yeah, I’ll try.” To stall for time, she asked, “Will you give me a number where I can reach you?”
Another long pause and more shuffling. “The best that I can do is a pay phone. Will that work?”
“Sure.” She snatched a pen and paper from her purse. “Where is the phone?”
“It is in the south side, by the gravel pit. Away from the bar.” He read the phone number to her.
Not a great neighborhood, but she was familiar with it, so that was a plus. Was he hiding out there? Or setting up an ambush?
She could scope out the area, find the best way in and out of the locale, all the side streets and dead ends. And using the program Jackson had given her, it’d be easy enough to check up on Quin’s info.
She pressed him, asking more questions. “Is it by a business? Someplace that’ll make it easier for me to find it?”
“There is a pawn shop. Harry’s Hocks.” He drew an audible breath. “You cannot miss it.”
“When?”
“Today,” he suggested in a rush. “Right now, even.”
“Sorry, no can do.” She wanted to help him, but she wasn’t a fool. “I already have other plans.”
He fell silent for such a long time that she thought he might have hung up. Then he asked, “Tomorrow, then?”
“Sure, I can probably do that.” Somehow she’d figure it out. “What time?”
“Noon.”
Because he hadn’t taken a single moment to think about it, Arizona knew he’d already had that time specified to him.
But by who?
Knowing he was pressured made up her mind more than anything else could have. Guessing how Spencer and Jackson, even Dare and Trace, were likely to react, Arizona closed her eyes. “I’ll be there. And, Quin?” Even though he wouldn’t understand, she said, “Don’t worry too much, okay?”
She waited, but he didn’t answer. The phone died with a soft but deafening click.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“YOU DID WELL.”
Relief made him shaky. Slowly, Quin sank down onto the park bench. If only she could have made it tonight…waiting was hell. Worse than hell.
Tomorrow seemed a very, very long time away.
“Quin, Quin. Don’t look so worried. This is all working out beautifully. Better than I had hoped, even.”
Quin nodded. Actually, it had been easier than he had expected, too. Candy was either very foolish or foolishly brave. He didn’t know which.
“She’s perfect and you know it. Perfect! You saw her.”
Yes, he had seen her. Very different from the others. Somehow…stronger. Almost defiant.
But she would not be strong enough or defiant enough for what would happen.
Impatience cramped his muscles. He put his head back and closed his eyes. Tomorrow.
He would wait, and tomorrow would come.
And then it would all be over.
* * *
SPENCER PEELED Marla’s hand away from his chest. Again. “Did you try calling someone?” Someone else. Someone other than him.
“Who?” She appealed to him with big eyes and a lost expression. “The storms caused so much of a mess all over, everyone is busy.”
Cocking a brow, Spencer stepped around her and out to the porch. Humid air washed over his bare chest. Dark clouds continued to roll across the sky.
Well, hell. Trees were down, branches and debris everywhere. And sure enough, a massive limb lay across Marla’s driveway and the path to her porch.
He ran a hand over his head. He’d heard the rainfall in the middle of the night, but he’d been so enthralled watching Arizona sleep, so caught up in the pleasure of having her close, in his bed, that he hadn’t realized…
As if she’d read his mind, Marla said, “I guess you were too busy to notice?”
Ignoring the innuendo, he turned back to her. “Actually, yeah. Late night and all.” He stepped out of reach when she leaned toward him. “It was barely raining when I got to bed.”
Jealousy sharpened her tone. “Not alone?”
“Not your business,” he corrected as gently as he could. But hell, he’d slept with her, more than once, so he felt like a complete bastard for being so brusque with her now. “Marla, listen—”
She went all tearful in a heartbeat. “I’m sorry, Spencer.” Bordering on desperate, she leaned closer to him. “I don’t know what I did to turn you away.”
God, he hated these types of confrontations. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I thought we we
re getting along great. I thought things were good between us.”
“It was never like that.” His own frustration ripened. “I made that clear up front.”
From the doorway, Arizona said, “Yeah, well, apparently not clear enough.”
Both he and Marla swiveled around to see Arizona lounging in the door frame, dressed in her shirt and shorts, tangled hair around her face, her gaze direct, challenging and a little…sympathetic.
For Marla.
It surprised Spencer, seeing that level of compassion; such a contrast to her balls-to-the-wall, take-no-prisoners attitude about most issues.
It also pleased him.
Arizona had such capacity for caring, and that had probably made her past abuse that much worse.
Right now, though, her presence would only complicate the awkward situation even more. “Back inside, Arizona.”
“Screw you, too,” she replied with no animus at all and stepped farther out to the porch. She sent him a sardonic smile. “You don’t give me orders.”
Wide-eyed and uncertain, Marla edged closer to Spencer’s side. “I, ah…”
“Men can be such dicks, huh?”
Since Marla appeared ready to faint over the easy way Arizona insulted him, Spencer said, “You’re not helping, Arizona.”
“Was I supposed to help?” She made a rude sound—and stopped directly in front of Marla. “Why are you here?”
Arm limp, Marla pointed at her house. “Tree limb.”
“Yeah? What tree limb?”
Spencer scrubbed both hands over his face. “There were storms last night. You,” he said, stressing the word, “were too hammered to hear them.” He didn’t bother telling her that he’d been oblivious, as well. “They blew half the damn tree into her yard and one really big limb is blocking her driveway and front walkway.”
“I was pretty drunk,” she confirmed to Marla, then she went to the edge of the porch to survey the damage.
In her short shorts and the soft T-shirt, she made a real sight leaning there on his railing. A breeze lifted her silky ebony hair. It tumbled down her back toward that perfect rear.
He was staring at her ass, a little lost, when she whistled.
“Holy cow. You can’t even get your car out with that blocking the way, can you?”
“Ah…no.”
Arizona turned back to Marla. “So what’d you want Spencer to do about it?”
Poor Marla looked from Arizona to Spencer and back again. “Help move it?”
“You aren’t sure?”
Still uneasy, Marla swallowed. “I really don’t know. I’ve never had it happen before. But I know it’s too big for me to take care of on my own.”
Evaluating things, Arizona eyed Marla up and down, then looked at the limb again. “Probably.” She cocked a brow. “You got a chain saw, Spence?”
So now he was Spence again? “Sure.” He strolled over to join her at the railing. “Doesn’t every guy?”
That made her laugh. “Every guy with a house and big trees in his yard.” Close to his side, aligning herself with him, Arizona leaned back on the railing and addressed Marla. “We were just about to grab some cake and coffee. And in a few hours we have to head out to see friends.”
“Friends?”
“I know, right? Seems odd to me, too, but somehow, I have them.”
Marla blanched. “Oh, I didn’t mean anything insulting—”
Arizona waved that off. “Give us a few minutes, and we’ll come over and help clean it up.”
“We?” Surprised and somewhat desperate, Marla looked to Spencer for help.
Knowing Arizona well enough to know he’d have a fight on his hands if he tried to exclude her, he shrugged. Once she’d made her mind up about something, she could be pretty stubborn.
“You might want to change clothes,” Arizona told her. “Looks like messy work.” She turned to Spencer with a gaze full of challenge. “You ready for that coffee?”
Amazing. Was there any situation—other than having a guy over her—that unnerved Arizona? She grabbed control of a socially awkward, uncomfortable scene and just played it out like it was nothing.
“Yeah,” he said slowly, doing his best to figure her out, “I’m ready.” He gave Marla a salute. “An hour or so ought to do it.”
“Oh. Okay.” She stood there, befuddled. “Thank you.”
Once inside, Spencer shut the door and snagged the back of Arizona’s shirt, halting her stiff stride toward the kitchen. “Hold up.”
Silent, strangely distant, she kept her back to him.
Undeterred, Spencer again eyed her backside. “Care to tell me what that was all about?”
She shrugged. “Neighbors are supposed to lend a hand to their neighbors, right?”
Using his hold on her shirt, he reeled her in, then wrapped his arms around her from behind. She stayed stiff—until he nuzzled the side of her neck. “You know I’m not interested in Marla, right?”
“I heard you tell her so.”
“I wouldn’t lie about it.”
While she thought about that, she rested her hands over his. Finally she nodded. “Okay.”
And yet she still sounded somehow distraught. “So what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said too fast.
Something—but pressing her now would get him nowhere. She’d share her thoughts in her own sweet time. “Want to know what I think?”
“If it has anything to do with admiring Marla, no.”
God, keeping up with her would be a challenge. “Why would I— No, forget that.” He propped his chin on top of her head. “I was admiring you, actually.”
“Me?” She twisted to see him. “Why?”
Too many reasons to count, but he said, “You sympathized with her.”
“Pffft.” As an invitation to nuzzle her neck more, she tilted her head.
“You did.” He obliged with a soft, openmouthed kiss. “And it was very kind of you.”
“She’s probably an okay person.”
Spencer hid his grin against her. “She’s nice enough.” But too manipulative, and too damn clingy. “It was wrong of me to let her think—”
She bolted away. “Cake, Spencer. And coffee.”
In one deft move, he caught her again and tossed her over his shoulder. “Sex, Arizona.” Already anxious to have her again, he smoothed a hand over her ass, then up and inside the leg of her shorts so he could fondle one firm cheek. “And maybe, after that, cake and coffee.”
Hanging over his shoulder, Arizona stiffened, and then she relaxed. “Yeah, okay.” Her hands smoothed down his spine. “That works just fine for me.”
* * *
UNABLE TO WAIT, Spencer got her into his bedroom and pressed her up to the wall, his body against hers, his mouth almost touching hers. “Does this bother you?”
“No.” She tried to kiss him.
“Arizona. Wait.” He held her face. “I need to know if this is okay.”
“It’s great.” She wiggled free so she could kiss him. “Awesome.” Her tongue moved over his lips. “Just don’t crawl on top of me and we’re good to go, so…go.”
Always in such a rush. He brushed back her hair. “If you feel even a twinge of—”
“I’m not shy, Spencer. I don’t like something, you’re going to hear about it, scout’s honor.” Pressing him back, she grabbed the hem of her T-shirt and jerked it off over her head. “So let’s move on.”
Lord have mercy. Her breasts were so large and firm for her slender frame. He reached for her.
She deflected him. “How about you play catch-up first?” She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of those skimpy shorts. “I’m pretty sure
this’ll work better if we’re both naked.”
“Agreed.” In record time, he shucked off his clothes—just as Arizona straightened from doing the same.
“There.” Beautifully bare, she kicked her shorts to the side. “What do you want to bet this’ll be better than the cake?”
His gaze went all over her. “It already is.” He put a hand to her narrow waist and soaked up the incredible sight of her. How long would it take for him to get used to the impact of her body? “Stand still, okay?”
“No way.” She spread her hands out over his chest, and started to trail them down his body.
Drawing a quick breath, he caught her wrists. “Let me taste you.” His voice roughened. “This time without your panties in the way.”
Their gazes held; her pulse visibly quickened as the seconds ticked by—and she braced back against the wall. “Yeah, okay.”
“I love it when you’re agreeable, honey.” But because the L-word made him feel too much, even when used in banter, he quickly took her mouth.
Kissing her offered a unique pleasure, especially when she arched up against him, naked flesh to naked flesh, her soft curves touching him everywhere.
He had to cup her behind, had to cuddle her heavy breasts. Every single part of her tempted him.
While exploring her body with his hands, he kissed her for a long time, deeper and hotter. He stroked over her skin, the supple curves of her waist, her hips.
Her thighs.
He teased his fingertips down her spine, down, down, and then inward to her moist sex.
She went to her tiptoes against him.
Trailing damp kisses down her throat to her collarbone and then to her breasts, he took his time enjoying her until she became fevered, until he knew she neared her limit.
That meant he’d almost reached his limit, too.
Going to his knees, Spencer hugged her hips and rubbed his face over her belly.
She drifted her fingers through his hair and whispered his name.
When he teased her hip bone with his tongue, she twitched. Was she ticklish? He smiled as he said, “Hmm?”
