Tough Love

by Lori Foster

  She wrinkled her nose. “That sounds terrible.” And true. “I like Leese. We get along well. Random guys think he’s a date, and Leese understands.”

  Cocking a brow, Stack stated, “That you want me.”

  “Yes.” Deal with that, she thought.

  Before tonight, before this very moment, Vanity would have clarified that she wanted him just for tonight. She’d lured him in with a no-strings-attached promise in hopes that once they hooked up, he’d enjoy himself enough to insist on a replay.

  Then another, and another.

  Devious, yes. Manipulative, sure. But her deception wouldn’t hurt anyone. She would have sex with Stack. And if, despite her best efforts, he decided they were one and done, she wouldn’t harass him. She’d be disappointed. She’d be devastated. But she had her pride.

  Tilting his head, Stack studied her. “So Leese throws other guys off the scent, because...what? You don’t date?”

  Mmm, no. She didn’t, but she’d prefer he not know that. Not just yet, anyway. “Let’s just say I’m choosy. When I want a man, I let him know.”

  Now Stack looked irate. “The way you let me know?”

  She tried not to smile but lost the battle. “You’re the only man I’ve made a deal with.”

  “The deal being a date for sex?”

  Yes, that was the deal she’d offered him. But it wasn’t that simple. “Not just any date,” she insisted while looking at his mouth. “It’s not like I’d make that offer for a date to a movie or a dance or anything lame.”

  “You’re saying the wedding is special?”

  Vanity bit her lip and slowly shook her head.

  His gaze held hers. “So you’re saying I’m special.”

  The teasing look in his eyes warmed her from the inside out. “As the maid of honor, I needed a date. And this wasn’t just any wedding. It was the wedding.” Just about everyone in Warfield, Ohio, knew Cannon. As a top fighter for the SBC, he was a hometown hero. Actually, he was such a great guy that he’d been a hero before the SBC signed him on. But now, with fans around the world, the locals totally revered him.

  Being a fighter on the fast track and one of Cannon’s close friends, Stack had his own share of admiration from near and far. “You were the perfect choice.”

  He nodded slowly. “So I’m not only special but perfect.” He nudged her closer. “Careful or you’ll make me blush.”

  Vanity doubted such a thing was possible. “I know I’ve teased you.”

  “Yeah, but most of the time I enjoyed it.”

  “I’m glad.” Going on tiptoe to brush her mouth over his, Vanity stared into his eyes. Timing was everything, she reminded herself. And now seemed like a good time to share a truth. “You’re the only one I considered for this particular bargain.”

  For the longest time he stared into her eyes and said nothing. Finally, when she thought she couldn’t take it a moment more, he cupped a hand to her neck, moved his thumb over her jaw. “I’m glad it was me.”

  Without her realizing it, he’d danced them over to the entryway. Now he took her hand and tugged her away from the ballroom. “What do we have to do before we can get out of here? And don’t make the list too long, because I swear, I won’t make it.”

  No, she wouldn’t either. “Five minutes, tops.”

  “I’ll help and we’ll make it two.”

  * * *

  EARLY NOVEMBER IN OHIO brought colder temps but, thankfully, no frost. A good thing, since Vanity’s dress, shoes and matching wrap weren’t designed to brave the elements.

  As the car quickly warmed, Stack watched her relax. Her shivering subsided, and she allowed the wrap to loosen.

  He liked her in that fluffy dress, how it showed off her tiny waist and cleavage, how feminine it looked. But he’d like her more out of it. So many times he’d imagined her naked, waiting on him, accepting him. Moving against him.

  Coming with him.

  It hadn’t taken much to work up the visual, given that the clothes she wore often left little to the imagination. Especially at the gym. Her fitted bike shorts and sports bras left every guy in the place stealing looks.

  Stealing, because even if Vanity didn’t realize it, the others knew that Stack had laid claim, so they thought twice about outright ogling her.

  Vanity liked to think she had all the control.

  Didn’t bother Stack any. When it came to women, he was pretty easygoing. Some laughs, lots of sex, a friendly fare-thee-well, and everyone stayed happy. No reason for drama. Definitely no reason for getting all tensed up.

  But even as he thought it, he flexed his shoulders to work out the stiffness in his muscles. Tense? Hell, yeah. Lust had him tied into about a hundred knots, all thanks to Vanity Baker.

  The light of street lamps flashed into the car, giving him glimpses of her pale blond hair, her high breasts nearly spilling out of her dress, and those longer than long legs that had filled his dreams for too many nights.

  He also saw the banked excitement in her eyes and the flush of anticipation in her cheeks.

  “Hey.” Driving one-handed, he laid his other hand on the seat between them, palm up.

  After a small smile, she put her hand in his—and he felt her trembling.

  “Still cold?” Lust had him on fire, but he could adjust the heat for her.

  “No.”

  Other possibilities skated into his mind, filling him with protectiveness. Was she uneasy? Maybe a little worried?

  It’d make sense. For a while after they’d first met, she’d been polite but not openly interested. By small degrees she’d warmed up, started paying more attention to him. Then out of the blue she’d propositioned him, and every day since, she’d been deliberately toying with him, hyping up the attraction until he could think of little other than hearing her scream with a climax.

  All their friends knew he was ready to detonate. Vanity knew it, too.

  Brushing his thumb over her knuckles, he asked gently, “Nervous, then?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “You’re shaking.”

  Lifting his hand to her mouth, she lightly bit a knuckle, then kissed the spot. Gaze sincere, she whispered, “Because I’m eager.”

  Well, hell. She’d just done it again, made him taut with her words. Needing to explain to her, just in case he jumped the gun, he said, “The first time...”

  “Fast and hard,” she finished for him. “I know.” Her smile slipped into place even as her eyes darkened and her voice went all breathy. “It’ll be worth it if I get to watch you. I’ve been thinking about that forever.”

  Jesus.

  “After that,” she murmured, “then it can be my turn.”

  Trying to give a little more room to his growing erection, Stack stretched out one leg. If she kept that up, he wouldn’t make it to her place. Hell, he was so close to losing it, the idea of pulling over for a quickie in the car appealed in a big way. It should have embarrassed him, how she stole his control. But knowing Vanity pushed him on purpose only made him more determined to blow her mind with sex.

  Reaching for long-lost patience, he drew in a deep breath and put both hands back on the steering wheel. “You’re playing with fire. You know that, right?”

  “I’m playing with you, Stack Hannigan, and it’s the most fun I’ve had in a very long time.”

  He liked her like this, so open about what she wanted—namely, him. “Like I said before, you’ll pay for the play.”

  “I’m hopeful.” She laughed, and even that turned him on.

  Vanity was the one of the sexiest women he’d ever known, but she was also real. Bold. He didn’t have to wonder at her thoughts, because she spelled out what she wanted and how she wanted it.

  She also made it clear that their time together had a short time frame, and after they’d settled the lust, she fully expected him to mosey on out of her life.

  Should’ve been perfect, only...it nettled him that she didn’t push for more.

&
nbsp; Both of them now silent, he turned a corner onto a dark street—and immediately saw the collision. Two vehicles, one in a ditch, the other overturned. Headlights cut the dark of the night at odd angles. Even as Stack slowed his car, searching the scene, the overturned car ignited and flames licked into the air.

  “Oh, my God.” Vanity sat forward to stare. “There!” She pointed to the side of one car. “There’s a body!”

  Stack jerked the car to the curb, slammed it into Park and released his seat belt at the same time. “Call 911.”

  She already had her purse in her hands, digging through it. “Be careful,” she called after him as he hurriedly left the car.

  He’d only taken one step when Stack heard a woman’s weak screams.

  Breaking into a run, he headed toward the burning SUV. The body Vanity had spotted was a man. It appeared he’d been thrown free and half sat nearby, dazed and confused, blood trickling down his face.

  The heat grew nearly unbearable as Stack got closer to the mangled vehicle. Following the voice, he bent to look under the heap of twisted metal and found the woman frantically trying to free herself. Soot covered her face, along with some blood and bruises. Hysterical, she reached toward him. “Help me!”

  Stack caught her hands, but some part of the SUV pinned her legs, and he couldn’t free her. Fuck, fuck. He looked around again. From the other car a man staggered out. Drunk or injured, Stack wasn’t sure.

  “Give me a hand,” Stack told him.

  Instead the man backed up and started nearly incoherent babbling. Drunk, then. Stack watched as he took a lopsided step and fell to his ass.

  Suddenly Vanity was there. She’d left her wrap behind, and now her arms and shoulders were exposed to the cold.

  She paid no mind to that, asking quickly, “What can I do?”

  Ah, hell, he didn’t want her anywhere near the burning car.

  “Please, oh, please, help me!”

  Grabbing his shirt, Vanity hauled him closer. “I’m helping. Now tell me what to do!”

  Clearly she couldn’t ignore the woman’s screams any more than he could.

  “Grab her hands. Soon as I rock it back, see if you can pull her free.” He knelt to see the woman. So far the flames weren’t near her, but she’d still feel the heat, and she’d have to know the fire was spreading. “We’re going to try to drag you out.”

  “Yes, yes, hurry!”

  Shit. “Your legs—”

  “It’s okay,” she screamed. “Hurry!”

  With her dress dangerously close to the hot flames, Vanity knelt down and locked hands with the woman. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

  Putting his shoulder to the SUV, Stack dug in his feet and pushed with all his might. He felt it give, lifting just a little. Not much, but hopefully enough.

  “I’ve got you.” Vanity also dug in with her dressy heeled sandals, her bare arms straining, her face highlighted by the red glow of the fire. The panicked woman moaned, but Vanity didn’t relent. “Shh, shh,” she said around her efforts. “Almost there. Almost.”

  Making not a sound, Stack strained to keep the vehicle in position and just watched, impressed by her, grateful for her lack of hysterics. Sweat popped on his brow and his jaw locked, but he stayed focused on Vanity.

  Finally, the woman’s legs cleared the wreckage, and Vanity relaxed. Jerking back, Stack let the vehicle drop forward again. The hot metal scattered sparks that floated into the darkness.

  He didn’t trust the situation at all and went right back to work.

  “Move to the curb,” he told Vanity. “Now.” Urging her away from the wreckage, Stack took her place, scooping his hands under the woman’s shoulders and, being as careful as he could, dragging her farther away.

  Once he felt they were at a safe distance, he shrugged off his now-ruined tux jacket and put it around Vanity’s shoulders.

  She’d already knelt by the woman, talking to her, trying to calm her, but she took a second to smile her gratitude.

  Stack smoothed her hair, overwhelmed for reasons he couldn’t understand. It wasn’t the wreck or the danger of the situation.

  It was Vanity, her quick thinking and her grounded attitude, her fortitude and her ability.

  With a loud whoosh, flames consumed the SUV, making Vanity jump and the woman scream anew.

  “Stay with her,” he told Vanity, then jogged back for the two men who seemed incapable of thinking clearly. Given his sluggish reactions, the first guy had a severe concussion, or worse, Stack was pretty sure. The blood covering his face probably came from a head wound, but with so much gore he couldn’t be sure. Also looked like he might have a dislocated shoulder and probably a broken leg.

  It wasn’t easy to move him without causing him more pain, but he was so out of it he only grunted as Stack put an arm around him and half lifted, half dragged him to the side. He didn’t take him near the women, thinking they might react badly to all the blood.

  The other guy—yeah. Only superficial wounds, but flat-out drunk, which probably explained the wreck. Stack urged him a safer distance away, but the idiot didn’t stay put, and he wasn’t about to babysit a drunken fool, not when the others might need help.

  Luckily, seconds later, both police and paramedics arrived. While the injured were tended, Stack explained to the cops what he’d found.

  “Hang around a minute,” the cop said before he and two others went to talk to the drunken man.

  Breathing hard through an adrenaline dump, Stack looked around for Vanity and found her sitting on the curb, his coat wrapped around her like a cape, her face in her hands.

  Fresh alarm ripped into him and before he even realized he was moving, he found himself next to her. Parts of her dress were scorched, the material all but melted. Soot blackened her long beautiful hair, now a tangled mess. He saw a small burn on her forearm, maybe where she’d bumped into hot metal.

  Heart clenching, he crouched down and took her wrists. “Hey. You okay?”

  She resisted his attempt to uncover her face and merely nodded.

  “Vanity?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just...rattled.” Her shoulders lifted with a deep breath, but she didn’t come out of hiding.

  “Are you hurt?” Had she been burned anywhere else? Maybe pulled a muscle while dragging out the other woman? She was so slim, so delicate and female and—

  “I look like a disaster.”

  So Vanity was being...vain? He smiled. “Naw.” After smoothing her hair again, he put a finger beneath her chin. “C’mon, darlin’. I need you to look at me now.”

  Her hands lowered, and Stack got caught in her big blue eyes, framed with smudged makeup.

  He’d expected tears, or at least residual fear. He saw neither.

  Tipping her head, she smiled at him. “You only recently started calling me darlin’. Is it because we’re finally going to have sex?”

  Behind them, a cop coughed.

  Closing his eyes, Stack took a single moment, then stood and faced the officer.

  Both worried and amused, the cop said, “She’s okay?”

  “She will be.” He’d see to it...not that she appeared to need his help with that.

  Coming to her feet, Vanity shook out her skirt, tossed back her hair, adjusted his coat over her shoulders, and gave each guy a direct, rock-steady look. “She can speak for herself, and, yes, she’s fine.”

  Chastising them?

  The cop coughed again, chagrined.

  Putting his arm around her, Stack drew her into his side. Whether Vanity needed it or not wasn’t the point. Not for a second did he miss the way the other man looked at her. He got that. Even slightly singed and badly disheveled, Vanity could bowl a guy over.

  But the cop needed to understand that, at least for now, she was taken.

  When neither man said anything more, Vanity looked toward the ambulance and the woman being lifted onto a stretcher. Her husband was now at her side, still pretty dazed but much of the blood cleaned away. �
��That poor lady,” Vanity said when they all heard her crying.

  “She says the other driver came around the corner on their side of the road. The headlights blinded them. Guess her husband instinctively tried to veer away, but they got clipped anyway, he lost control, and whatever they hit caused the SUV to roll.”

  Stack stared toward the second driver who was now loudly complaining. “Drunk?”

  “Totally shit-faced and driving on a suspended license. He’s lucky he didn’t kill someone.” The cop eyed them both but settled on Stack. “Luckier still that you came along. You know, most people run from fire. Not to it.”

  Stack tugged at his ear. In all honesty, he hadn’t thought about the fire. He’d seen the wreck, then heard the woman calling out...

  “He’s wonderful,” Vanity said and leaned into his side. “The way that woman was pinned down... How badly is she hurt?”

  “They’re still looking her over, but I know she has several bad burns, maybe a few breaks.”

  “Oh, God,” Vanity whispered.

  “She’s alive,” Stack reminded her, and kissed the top of her head. The scent of smoke mixed with the softer scents of woman. He wanted to get her home, as much now to comfort her and ensure she was okay as for the sex they’d both been anticipating for months now. They needed showers, and he wanted to check the burn mark on her arm.

  More vehicles pulled up, including a news crew complete with mics and cameras.

  “And the circus begins,” the cop complained. “Get ready for an interview.”

  The last thing he wanted. Given how Vanity had stiffened, she felt the same. “Mind if we skip out on that?”

  Nodding in understanding, the cop tapped a notepad to his thigh. “I have your info. I’ll be in touch if I need anything else.”

  “Thanks.” Avoiding eye contact with the reporters, Stack got Vanity moving.

  In a whisper, she said, “I feel so conspicuous in this dress with your tux jacket. I hope they don’t notice us.”

  Nice to know she wasn’t one of those people who preened for attention. Stack opened her door and got her in, taking one quick look to see two reporters clustered around the injured woman and her husband.

  They got out of there before anyone tried to talk to them.