Causing Havoc

by Lori Foster

  She clamped her hand over his. “No way, Havoc. Forget it. I’m done. Finished.”

  He brought his gaze to hers, wondering if he should test the theory.

  Eve drew back. “Seriously.” Her fingers tightened on his. “After three…Well, I never realized…I mean, good God, three.”

  “Yeah.”

  She let out a long, shaky breath. “I’m definitely done.”

  Dean felt both charmed and challenged, but he tamped down the urge to show her how easy it’d be for him to change her mind. He smoothed her hair from her face and said gently, “All right.”

  What looked remarkably like disappointment clouded her blue eyes, but she didn’t remark on his easy agreement. “Thank you.”

  That made him laugh. “You’re naked. I’m naked. If we’re going to refrain, we need to talk. So tell me, you’re what? Midtwenties, right?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  “So in twenty-five years, what has Eve…” It suddenly struck Dean how little he knew of her. With as bland an expression as he could muster, he said, “Out of curiosity, what is your last name?”

  Eve groaned. “Oh my God, this is sad. I’m naked in bed with a stud who doesn’t even know my full name.”

  “You gotta live life to the fullest.”

  With absurd formality, she offered him her hand. “Eve Lavon.”

  Dean accepted the handshake. “So Eve Lavon. What have you been up to during your life?”

  “Nothing worth talking about, really.” She frowned in thought, gave him an impish smile, and said, “I guess I could tell you how bored I usually am with men.”

  “Usually?”

  “Yes.” She laced her fingers with his, probably to ensure his hands didn’t wander. “But you don’t bore me, Dean. Not at all. I guess because I’ve never known anyone like you.”

  He waited, wondering if she’d expound on that.

  “Now, don’t get skittish,” she teased. “I’m not going to ask you to move in or anything.”

  Dean pulled his hand free so he could cup her chin and turn her face toward him. “I’ll admit that we don’t know each other that well, but you’ll soon discover that I don’t get skittish. Ever.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No. You’re confusing me with someone else. Probably someone who was an idiot—if he got skittish.”

  She laughed. “If I told you that ever since I was twelve I’ve wanted a husband and a dog and three kids, maybe even four, in a tidy house with a white picket fence, would that make you skittish?”

  “No.” Talking with her this long in a bed, both of them buck-ass, had worn on him. But laughing with her had affected him, too. He didn’t often laugh with women. Not really with men, either.

  And then there were her smiles. And her teasing. And her scent…Dean lowered himself over her so that he half covered her and her mouth was only an inch away. “I’m not skittish, but I am relieved that you haven’t yet found a guy to fit the bill.”

  “Oh.”

  Taking her bottom lip between his teeth, he stroked her with his tongue—and then released her. “So tell me, what about these men bored you?”

  She stared at his mouth and breathed heavily. “I’m not sure.”

  Dean smiled. Yeah, it’d be real easy to change her mind—that is, if she hadn’t already changed it on her own. “Maybe they weren’t strong enough for you.”

  Her brows came down. “Strong enough?”

  “I bet you crooked your little finger, and they came running. Right?”

  At first, she didn’t answer. But her frown smoothed away and her chin lifted. “With you, I didn’t even have to crook my little finger.” Her smile taunted him. “Now did I?”

  Dean put one leg over hers, trapping her on the mattress. “Is that how you saw it? And here I thought you were chasing me, not the other way around. Especially after hearing everything you said to Cam.”

  When he bent to kiss her, she flattened both hands on his chest. “Now wait a minute. I’ve never chased a man in my life.”

  Dean nearly laughed—until she added, “But speaking of your sister, I want to know when you’re going to see her again.”

  It was his turn to frown. “I thought we agreed you’d butt out of my business with Cam.”

  “Nope.” She stubbornly shook her head while continuing to hold him at bay. “Not even close. You ordered, and I ignored.”

  “Leave it alone, Eve.”

  “No.” She pulled him down and kissed him hard—almost distracting him. “So when will you see her? I know she’s anxious to get to know you and she has so much to tell you. And I’m worried about this storm because her roof—”

  Pushing his hand down between their bodies, Dean cupped his fingers over her—freezing her in midsentence. “I have an idea.”

  “Forget it.” Her eyelids sank down. Her voice became ragged. “I mean it.”

  No, she didn’t. “Instead of trying to piss me off, why don’t you invite me to stay the night?”

  Her eyes opened and she stared at him. “Why would I do that?”

  “So we can go for number five.”

  Her mouth fell open, then closed with a snap. “Five? You’re kidding, right?”

  “No.” He began nuzzling his way down to her breasts.

  “But…” A soft moan escaped her. “What happened to four?”

  He reached a nipple, licked a circle around it, and said, “It comes before five. But I’m not fond of even numbers, so I can’t stop there.” At the same time, he eased two fingers into her.

  Her body lifted into his, her arms came around his neck, and her protests died a quick death. In a mere breath of sound, she whispered, “All right. You can stay the night.”

  JACKI sat at the back booth of the bar and finished filling out the application. Now that she was twenty-one, her employment choices weren’t so limited. And Dean was right—she needed to work whether Cam liked it or not.

  A wicked crack of lightning flashed across the big window at the front of the bar, followed seconds later by the deep rumble of thunder. She sighed. No doubt, the roof was leaking again. And that meant tomorrow Lorna would complain nonstop about not getting enough sleep and about Cam’s hesitation in selling the place.

  For sure, Roger would hire her. But she didn’t want to work for Roger. It was bad enough that Cam did and that Cam was even considering him for a husband.

  Jacki shuddered just thinking about it.

  If she got a job here waiting tables and serving drinks, she would probably make a killing in tips. She could help with the expenses and maybe they could keep the house.

  Maybe Cam would stop thinking about tying herself to Roger.

  The pay sucked, but the hours would work with her class schedule. And how hard could it be to serve drinks? Lots of laughter, lots of fun, many of her friends hanging around. She could handle that. It’d be like a nonstop party.

  Jacki finished the application and started toward the front, wending her way around tipsy men and flirting women. Halfway there, she caught sight of a massive man striding up to the bar.

  Mouth hanging open, Jacki absorbed the impressive sight of him, tracking her gaze over him from head to toe and back again.

  Jeans dark with the rain molded to legs as thick and sturdy as tree trunks. Longish black hair clung to his forehead until he ran a hand through it, slicking it back. A snowy white T-shirt, soaking wet and mostly transparent, glued itself to his upper body, showing off the ample chest hair beneath.

  Jacki couldn’t get her feet to move. Hell, she could barely keep her heart beating.

  He had to be six and a half feet tall, and probably weighed no less than two hundred and fifty pounds—all of it rock-solid, rippling muscle. A variety of tattoos twined around colossal biceps, disappearing into the sleeves of his shirt.

  Thickened ears and a few faded scars along the side of his face in no way detracted from his looks.

  But his size and outward appearance alone didn�
��t dominate the room.

  His booming voice helped.

  As did the jovial confidence he reeked.

  Along with a quiet determination that had men quickly removing themselves from even his peripheral vision.

  Fascinated, Jacki finally got her feet unglued and eased up behind him. The application hung limply in her hand, all but forgotten.

  The object of her attention rested his forearms on the top of the bar and stared at Dickey Webster, the night manager and bartender. “I’m looking for Havoc.”

  Though the thick walnut bar separated them, Dickey took a step back, frowned, and shook his head. “We don’t want any trouble here.”

  The giant grinned. “I don’t want trouble, either, my man, so relax. Havoc is a…friend.”

  Dickey didn’t look the least bit relieved. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

  Jacki did. Her heartbeat picked up pace.

  “Ah well,” said Goliath, “whether you heard his name or not, if you saw him you’d know it. And I have it on good authority that he was heading this way. Knowing Havoc as I do, a bar would have been his first stop.”

  Huh, Jacki thought. Perhaps he didn’t know Dean as well as he thought. While the bartender muttered a quick reply, Jacki glanced at her watch, saw that midnight had long since come and gone, and she shrugged.

  This was too interesting not to share.

  She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Eve.

  After six rings, Eve picked up. Her voice was huskier than usual, a little breathless. “Hello?”

  Jacki raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Hey Eve, it’s Jacki.”

  “Jacki?”

  Almost laughing, Jacki said, “Yeah, Cam’s sister.”

  “I know who you are.” The phone was muffled, she heard some shuffling and muted whispering, and then Eve said, “It’s really late, Jacki.”

  “I know.”

  “Is something wrong? What is it?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” Jacki strove for a quizzical tone. “Am I interrupting something?”

  “No! No, not at all.” More quick shuffling and low whispers. “So…uh, what’s up?”

  Now Jacki did laugh. “Well, I was going to ask if you had Dean’s number because I need to talk to him. But seeing as he’s right there with you—”

  Eve groaned and a second later Dean took the phone. “What is it?”

  Well, well, well. Apparently, big brothers didn’t like interruptions. “Hey, bro. You don’t have to bite my head off.”

  She heard a long annoyed sigh, then: “I’m not.” And in a more even voice, he repeated, “What’s going on, Jacki?”

  “You know, I’d say nothing and let ya get back to it, really I would.”

  “Jacki…”

  Eve’s laughter sounded in the background.

  “But you see, there’s a guy here asking for you. And I sort of thought you should know about him.”

  More alert, Dean asked, “A guy where?”

  Oh yeah. “I’m in the Roadkill Bar.”

  Two seconds of silence passed. “You’re kidding.”

  The bar’s name often got that reaction. “Nope. It’s a little local place, only about fifteen minutes from my house.” She winced. “That is, I mean our house.”

  He let out a long breath, but didn’t debate the point. “Partying again?”

  In sugary tones, Jacki replied, “Not that it’d matter to you, right?”

  His annoyance practically vibrated through the receiver. “Who’s asking for me?”

  “I don’t know, but he’s a big sucker. Bigger than you even. And he asked for Havoc, not Dean. He’s got shaggy black hair, a mild case of cauliflower ear, some mean tattoos, a few scars—”

  “Who’s he asking?”

  Obviously Dean recognized the description. “Well, it was just the night manager, who’s also the bartender, but he didn’t know anything. I take it you haven’t been in here yet?”

  “Eve told me the only bar in town was Roger’s idiotic Rodeo Bar.”

  Jacki chuckled. It didn’t surprise her that Dean had the same impression of Roger’s joint that she had. “Yeah, well, this isn’t exactly the kind of place Eve would visit or remember.”

  “Yet you’re there.”

  Cutting right past that, Jacki got to the point of her call. “So anyway, right now your friend is making his way around the room. And I don’t mind telling you, he’s spooking everyone. Some people are picking up and leaving as fast as they can.”

  Another long sigh. “Let me talk to him.”

  Holding the phone away, Jacki stared at it in disbelief. Dean had to be joking. She brought it back to her ear. “You want me to go to him, then give him my phone?”

  “He’ll give it back, brat. Don’t worry. Just tell him I’m on the line.”

  Somehow, the way Dean said “brat,” made it sound like an affectionate nickname instead of an insult. Glancing up, Jacki caught sight of the big man and, strangely enough, anticipation squirreled through her.

  A reason to approach him. To talk to him.

  To make him notice her.

  “Yeah, okay, I can do that.” Really. She could. “Hang on a second.”

  Summoning up a core of bravado, Jacki sauntered over, tapped the giant on his…well, not quite his shoulder, because his shoulder was way up there. She considered herself tall, but her fingertips landed on his shoulder blade.

  Startled, he flashed only a brief glance toward her. Then his shoulders straightened and, slowly, he turned back again to give her a more thorough perusal.

  His bold scrutiny made Jacki feel buck-naked.

  His smile made her heart jump.

  His manner both alert and carnal, he took one step closer and stared down at her with chocolate brown eyes. “Hello, darlin’.”

  On the outside, Jacki smirked at the slick show of interest.

  But on the inside, everything fluttered and heated. He had the darkest eyes she’d ever seen, heavily fringed by girlish lashes.

  And he had a deep honeyed voice and a way of speaking that…

  Get a grip, Jacki. She struck a comfortable, slouching pose, one hip jutting out, limbs relaxed. “You want to talk to Havoc?”

  Clutching his heart, he made a ridiculous face of torment. “Ah, now, honey, please don’t tell me that son of a bitch claimed ya first?” He snatched up her hand, carried it to his mouth, and pressed a damp, warm, very provocative smooch to her palm.

  Jacki stood there like a frozen lump of female awareness.

  A smile made his dark eyes twinkle. “I can promise ya I’m better.” Voice going even deeper, he said, “In all ways.”

  The phone almost dropped out of Jacki’s free hand. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Then she felt his thumb stroking the heart of her palm, and she yanked her fingers away. “It’s not like that.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Well, thank you, God. I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear it.” He nodded toward the phone. “’S Havoc on there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “All righty then, business comes first. But once it’s out of the way, you and I need to become much better acquainted.”

  Appalled at her lack of wit and retort, Jacki shoved the phone toward him. “Here. Take your time.”

  Needing some space, Jacki started to turn away, but then she heard him say into the phone, “Gawd almighty, Havoc. The cutest little wet dream just strutted up to me and—what’s that?” His voice lowered to a growl. “You’re bull-shitting me, you bastard. You don’t have a sister.”

  Jacki turned to look at him, but he didn’t notice.

  He paused, and with his voice raised again, he blurted, “Two? No fucking way.”

  Jacki grinned.

  A sour expression crossed his face, and he winced at whatever Dean said.

  Running a hand roughly through his already tousled hair, he barked, “How the hell could you have sisters and no one know about it?”


  Deciding she didn’t want to give him any privacy after all, Jacki strolled back and leaned against the wall beside him. When he glanced at her, she smiled.

  His gaze automatically started to drift down over her, then he caught himself and snapped it back up to her face. Appearing chagrined, he scowled and propped a fist on his hip.

  Whatever Dean said to him, the giant listened intently. “Right. Hang on.” He turned to Jacki again. This time he went ahead and quickly looked her over before pinning her in place with a mesmerizing stare. “I don’t suppose you got a pen and paper on ya, do you, darlin’?”

  “For what?”

  “I need to write down Havoc’s address.”

  She waggled her fingers for the phone, the big guy handed it back to her, and Jacki asked, “Where’re you staying, Dean? Yeah, I know where that is. I can give him directions.”

  Dean said, “Good. You do that. And then why don’t you think about heading home instead of hanging out there any longer?”

  Lip curling, she taunted, “What’s the matter, bro? Worried about me?”

  “Not even a little. But with Gregor there—”

  “Gregor? That’s his name?” Jacki looked up—and got snared in that piercing dark gaze again. She swallowed. “He doesn’t look like a Gregor.”

  Without releasing her from the invisible snare, the giant tipped an imaginary hat. “Gregor ‘The Maniac’ Marsh. At your service, sugar.”

  Maniac? “I take it you’re a fighter, too?”

  He said, “The best.”

  Dean snorted. “Whatever he tells you, Jacki, don’t believe him.”

  Jacki nodded. “Right. He’s a liar. Got it.”

  Gregor roared with laughter.

  “So,” Dean said, “will you be heading home now or not?”

  “Actually, I will, as soon as I can find a ride.” Now that she had a job taken care of, there were other priorities at home. Like a leaking roof. And probably a clogged pool pump. And—

  “What do you mean, find a ride?”

  Suspicion dripped from Dean’s tone, prompting her to explain. “No car, remember? But the bar is packed so I’m sure there’s someone here I know.”