Tell It Like It Is

by Stanalei Fletcher

As he tried to sit up, he felt a blur of movement from behind. Shelby hooked one arm under his shoulder, then snaked it across the back of his neck. Her other arm reached around and grabbed the collar of his T-shirt in a chokehold. Not quite the same as the leash, but just as effective. If he didn’t do something quickly, he’d be unconscious.

  Survival kicked in. Ruthlessly, he reached up and seized a handful of hair.

  A painful yelp confirmed her white hair was indeed real. Her chokehold loosened enough for him to slip free. He jumped to his feet.

  As did Shelby.

  He faced her warily this time. “You cheated.” Kane hadn’t doubted her training or skills, but he’d underestimated her willingness to play dirty.

  “I survive.” She lifted a shoulder. “I know my strengths, but more importantly, my limits.” She circled and he kept pace. “You can bring me down with brute force. Surely you expected me to counter.”

  She’d countered all right. And the time for talk was done. He feinted to one side. She reacted as expected by shifting to that side. Just as quickly, she recovered.

  He feinted again, this time to the other side.

  She didn’t react as much. Instead, she attempted a takedown of her own.

  Kane accepted the full force of her attack and at the last moment, let the energy tumble him backward. He captured her small waist and carried her over with him in the fall. After a quick twist of his body, he straddled her from behind, her back pressed against his chest.

  This was too easy. With both arms wrapped around her neck, he had her in the same chokehold she’d put him in earlier.

  To her credit, she fought like a banshee. Fingernails bit into his forearms and would leave marks for days. She kicked, her feet scrabbling for purchase as she pushed back trying to topple him and loosen his hold.

  Time to take off the kid gloves. “Tap out,” he said. “You’re through.”

  “No.” Remarkably, she was still able to speak. He couldn’t begin to guess how she had enough breath.

  “Tap out,” he repeated, this time as a demand. If she didn’t, she’d lose consciousness. He really didn’t want to choke her out.

  “No.”

  “Shelby…” He couldn’t keep the plea from his voice.

  “You’re going to have to choke me.” Her reply was strangled.

  “I’m not joking,” he ground out through his teeth. “I will do this.” He squeezed tighter. “Tap out.”

  He felt an imperceptible shake of her head. Indecision crawled across his brain even as his forearm squeezed against the arteries in her neck.

  She stopped fighting and went slack.

  Damnit. She’d forced him to choke her into unconsciousness. He relaxed his hold and lowered her to the mat.

  Her face was red from the struggle, but her color quickly returned to normal.

  He leaned over her prone body, hands on her shoulders when he felt a subtle shift. Suddenly, he was flying through the air and then landed on his back. Somehow, she’d leveraged him over while he’d been off-balance.

  Now they both lay flat on their backs, heads almost touching.

  “You faker!” he accused.

  “You were really going to choke me.” Her voice came out in a rasp.

  “You made me.”

  “I don’t quit. And I don’t give in.”

  “You cheated,” he growled. “Again.”

  “I play to win.”

  They were both breathing heavily, but with each passing moment, their breaths slowed—winding down from the exertion. “I’m calling a draw,” he said, finally.

  “I won.” Her voice held a smile. “All’s fair in—” She broke off the cliché.

  Kane’s mind finished the sentence. Love? Or did she mean to say they were at war? He rolled to his knees, then crouched beside her, and cleared his throat. “Truce?” He held out his hand.

  ****

  Shelby’s breathing slowly returned to normal, but her heart pounded at an unnatural rate as she stared at Kane’s outstretched hand.

  “Give me a minute.” Her voice was raw, throat scratchy.

  She wasn’t ready to move yet. Kane may not have taken her all the way out, but she was still woozy from lack of blood flow and oxygen. No permanent damage, thankfully. She’d been choked out before and didn’t like the feeling of coming back to the land of living. That experience had given her enough insight to know just how long she could last to make her opponent believe he’d succeeded in making her unconscious.

  Except she’d never envisioned using that knowledge in a situation like this.

  “Are you all right?” Kane was still holding out his hand.

  She looked up from her prone position and cringed at the concern on his face. She didn’t want his sympathy. “I’m fine. I just need a minute.”

  He nodded and dropped his hand. With a move more graceful than she expected from such a large man, he settled at her feet. He picked up her right foot and wrapped his big hands around it. Slowly, he began to massage. Starting at her pink-colored toes and working down to the heel and back up again.

  Her skin tingled as his touch warmed her skin and loosened tense muscles.

  His large hand cupped the back of her calf and kneaded there too. It was slow, deep, and incredibly sensual. A feeling of being cared for, almost coddled, spread through her. No one had ever made her feel like this.

  He gently lowered her leg and then picked up the other.

  Peering through lowered eyes at his face, she was sure he had no idea how his touch was affecting her. Heat pooled at her center and crept inexorably downward. The sensation was so strong, she nearly begged for him to move up her leg until he reached her apex—fulfilling a release she suddenly craved.

  “How’s that?” he asked as he carefully lowered her leg to the mat.

  She didn’t know if she could speak, so she simply nodded.

  “Here.” He reached for her hands and clasped them in his. With a gentle pull, he drew her to a seated position.

  He was so close, the humidity of his sweat and spicy scent of after-shave wrapped around her. She wanted to lean closer and drink in the smell of him. She must have swayed a little.

  He caught her shoulder with a hand.

  She closed her eyes. “Mmmm.”

  “Shelby?” The question came gently. He squeezed her shoulder again.

  “I’m okay,” she said, keeping her voice low. The moment was made for whispers. What was happening to her? Why did she feel like this? Why now? Why Kane?

  She opened her eyes, but kept her gaze averted. “I should check on Rosalee.”

  “You need to lie down—take more time to recover.” Kane’s voice had a husky quality she hadn’t heard before. “I’m sure Aunt Rosalee is still resting.” He kept a hold on her. In fact, his grip tightened as though he were afraid she might bolt.

  She started to pull away.

  “Don’t go.” His breath feathered along her cheek. The request held a promise.

  She shook her head, not understanding what she objected to. He was probably right. Rosalee wouldn’t be ready for lunch yet. Although it felt like hours had passed, they couldn’t have been down here more than thirty minutes.

  They were alone. No one would intrude if she yielded to his request. A part of her wanted to give in. Another part insisted she deny the heat coursing through her veins. Only one other time she’d surrendered to similar feelings, and the hurt afterward had cut too deep. She’d promised to never expose herself to that kind of pain again.

  She took a long breath, drawing in more oxygen and purging the heat that swelled inside. When she felt stronger, surprisingly, it took very little effort to extract from Kane’s hold. His hands supported her, yet didn’t trap.

  All he said in protest was, “Shelby.”

  She couldn’t look at him, afraid she might succumb to the desire she sensed in him. Scrambling to her feet, she felt deprived of his warmth. But at least her heart was intact. There was no risk of rejec
tion.

  Crossing the mat, she grabbed her workout duffel. She didn’t bow to her opponent—or when she stepped off the mat. She couldn’t. All her training screamed at her to stop, to show the respect due. However, for the safety of her heart, she fled the room with Kane staring after her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Once upstairs, away from Kane—away from the temptation he presented, Shelby took a quick shower and dressed. Her hair was still damp when she entered the kitchen to start lunch. She emptied a couple of cans of tomato soup into a pan and put it on the stove to warm while she made sandwiches.

  Oscar’s paws tapped across the floor, announcing Rosalee’s entrance. “So who won the match?” The older woman took a seat at the kitchen table.

  Shelby kept her back to the author to hide her expression. “It was a draw.”

  “Shelby did,” Kane said at the same time.

  She swung around in surprise.

  Kane leaned against the doorjamb watching her. He’d showered too; his damp hair was tousled as though he’d not bothered to comb it.

  Rosalee looked from her to Kane and back again, a sly smile on her lips.

  Shelby cleared her throat. “Would you get bowls for the soup?” she said to Kane. “Lunch will be ready in a minute.”

  He pushed off the door and crossed the kitchen. “Smells good.”

  Shelby studied him out of the corner of her eye, trying not to find hidden meaning in his compliment. “It’s only canned soup and turkey sandwiches.”

  “I guess I worked up an appetite.” He set the table for three, and then moved to the counter to make a fresh pot of coffee.

  As he passed behind her, she felt the brush of his hand along her back.

  The spoon slipped from Shelby’s fingers and clattered onto the countertop.

  “Are you okay, dear?” Rosalee frowned at her nephew. “Nelson, are you sure you didn’t hurt her?”

  “Are you hurt, Shelby?” Kane’s tone was gentle, yet also taunting.

  “No. I’m fine. The spoon slipped.” She ignored Kane’s thoughtful gaze and concentrated on the soup.

  “So Nelson.” Rosalee turned to face him. “Will you help us put up Christmas decorations this afternoon?”

  Shelby dropped the spoon a second time. “Christmas decorations? We aren’t planning to be here that long.”

  “Oh! Didn’t you hear the news on the radio?” Rosalee’s eyebrows lifted.

  “What news?” Kane asked before Shelby could reply.

  “There’s a winter storm advisory. It’s supposed to be a blizzard. The highway patrol closed the canyon roads for the next couple of days. We’re stuck here until it’s lifted.” Rosalee shrugged. “I don’t want Christmas to come without celebrating.”

  “A blizzard?” Shelby couldn’t keep the dismay from her voice.

  Rosalee nodded.

  Being stranded wasn’t a problem as long as no one knew where they were. But what if they had to leave in a hurry? “What about your book? Surely we should work on that before decorating.”

  “I’m an old woman.” Rosalee speared her with a look that said she was anything but. “I need longer breaks than I used to when I was younger. We can take advantage of Nelson’s strong muscles to move the furniture for us. Don’t you think?” She favored Kane with an indulge-me smile.

  Shelby didn’t want to think about Kane’s strong muscles or any other part of his body. Since their match, it seemed her entire being tingled with the memory of how his body felt against hers.

  “I’ll be happy to help, but I’d rather not do it on an empty stomach.” Kane gave Shelby a pointed look. “I hope that soup isn’t burning.”

  She jerked her mind back on task and turned off the stove, lifted the steaming pan, and carried it to the table. Kane slid a hot pad under the bottom as she set it down—his gesture as seamless as though they’d been working in tandem all their lives. Her stomach gave a strange flip. That thought was even more unsettling than the near kiss on the mat. She pushed it away, settled into her seat, and focused on the meal.

  Lunch passed with Rosalee chatting about the progress they had made on the book. “It’s going much faster than I anticipated. A good enough reason to take some time this afternoon and decorate.”

  Shelby didn’t contribute much to the conversation. Neither did Kane. A couple of times she felt his gaze on her, but kept her focus on her bowl. It seemed cowardly to avoid him. However, she wasn’t emotionally equipped to handle what she figured most men wanted when there was a reasonably attractive, single female around: a no-strings-attached tumble in the sheets.

  Although Shelby didn’t kid herself about being attractive—her white hair tended to put most men off—she did fall within the single female category. If the sexual vibes she’d picked up from Kane were any indication of his thoughts, she couldn’t look him in the eyes. If she did, he’d realize she wasn’t uninterested either. Being physically weaker than Kane didn’t worry her as much as being emotionally weaker. That alone made her vulnerable—a flaw she hated in herself. She had years of physical training but no emotional skills to combat this unexpected, unwelcome attraction.

  ****

  “I’m certain the box I want is in the back closet.” Rosalee stood at the foot of the stairs shouting instructions up to Shelby for finding the Christmas decorations.

  Kane cringed at the volume. Aunt Rosalee had amazingly healthy lungs for her age.

  His aunt gave him a pointed look as she crossed the living room. “Maybe you should go up and help her.” She plopped into the chair he’d just pushed aside to make more room for the tree in the center of the picture window.

  “I’m sure she’ll find it without me looking over her shoulder.” He’d done enough already. After lunch, he’d taken the dog out for a quick walk and shoveled the pathways and steps, again. When he’d returned, he was drafted to move the furniture so his aunt and Shelby could decorate.

  “She’s never been here before. Go help her. We’ve done enough rearranging to get started.” His aunt shooed him with the backs of her hands.

  Kane narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like her blatant matchmaking. It didn’t matter that earlier he may have wanted some intimate time with Shelby. At least some good sense prevailed after his cold shower. She was his aunt’s bodyguard. Not someone to trifle with. By now, he knew Shelby well enough to know she’d hate the matchmaking attempt, too. He wasn’t willing to bet his aunt’s life by pissing off Miss Northstar just to ease a hard-on. Now that he knew those death threats weren’t some staged publicity stunt, he had to stay focused. So did Shelby.

  Instead of decorating, they should be looking for definitive proof to confirm their theory about Denato. He hated not having more to work with. During Shelby’s last check-in with Northstar, she’d learned that Riley and O’Neal were closing in on the elusive Mafia lieutenant, but hadn’t actually found him yet. What if they were on the wrong track? Were they chasing Denato and his Mafia connection to the extent of ignoring other clues?

  Or better yet, his aunt could just finish the damn book already, get it to the publisher, and the entire situation would go away.

  A loud thud sounded on the ceiling above them—followed by a muffled curse. He glanced at his aunt and she gave him an I-told-you-so look.

  “Fine,” he snapped. “I’m going.”

  Taking the stairs two at a time, he reached the top landing and looked down the hall. Boxes and blankets were scattered out of the closet. Shelby was clinging to the top shelf by her fingertips—her feet swinging in the air above the toppled stepladder.

  “Hold on! I’m coming.” Kane raced down the hall, worried that if she let go, she’d land on the ladder and probably break a leg.

  As he reached the closet, she muttered something he couldn’t quite understand. Quickly, he dragged the ladder out of the way and turned just as she let go of the shelf.

  She dropped right into his arms and there was nothing he could do about the way her shirt rode up. Hi
s palms curled over warm skin at her sides as he lowered her to the floor.

  “I…thank you.” Her words were breathy as though they’d caught in her throat.

  He held on a moment longer, tightening his grasp.

  Shelby pushed downward on his hands. “You can let go now.” Her voice sounded stronger. More in control.

  Reluctantly, he let his hands drop, but he didn’t step back. “Are you okay?”

  She straightened her shirt as she turned around to face him. They stood crowded in the confines of the closet, only inches apart. She had no place to go and spoke to his chest. “I’m fine.”

  He nodded, acknowledging, but not really listening. He should move away. A citrusy scent from her hair wafted upward, erasing his earlier logic to give her a wide berth. He was actually surprised when his fingers stroked her cheek, then lifted her chin until her gaze met his.

  Her eyes were wide, burning like a dark blue flame. Her lips parted, revealing a perfect line of small white teeth.

  “What happened?” Aunt Rosalee’s voice carried up the stairs with all the subtlety of a train whistle.

  Shelby jerked free. Kane didn’t know whether to be grateful for the interruption, or curse his aunt’s bad timing. But the moment was lost. He backed out of the closet.

  Shelby slid past him, answering Rosalee. “Everything’s fine. I overreached and the stepladder tipped over.”

  “Did you find the box?” Rosalee called back.

  Shelby looked at Kane and then pointed to the top shelf.

  He righted the stepladder and climbed up. With a quick tug, he pulled down the big box marked Christmas Decorations.

  “Got it,” Shelby shouted down to Rosalee. To Kane, she said, “Thank you.”

  He didn’t know how to take her controlled responses. He wanted her to be as shaken as he was from their close encounter. He’d been about to kiss her, for heaven’s sake—plus a whole lot more. He was glad he held the box to hide his body’s betrayal. Turning, he eased into the hall.

  Shelby gathered up the blankets and started putting them back on the shelves. “Tell Rosalee I’ll be down after I’ve straightened this mess.”

  “Sure.” It seemed to be her pattern, hiding when something made her emotionally uncomfortable. He couldn’t really fault her. He felt like hiding too. Except knowing she gave in to that particular weakness gave him a greater insight to this enigma of a woman.