by Lori Foster
“I won’t.”
Always unexpected confusion from Vanity. “Won’t need help, or won’t let me know?”
She smiled. “Either.” She started up her car, looked him over again, and said with ripe anticipation, “Tomorrow.”
He nodded. “Tomorrow.” He closed her door, stepped back, and watched her pull away.
Before Vanity had even reached the next block, Whitney started toward him. Cold inside and out, Stack took in her leggy, swingy stride—then turned his back on her and went to his own car.
“Stack!”
He wouldn’t reply. She had nothing to say that he wanted to hear.
“Stack, please. Talk to me. Let me explain.”
For a single heartbeat he hesitated, curious as to what excuse she’d give for showing up here, now. He had a feeling Phil had manipulated things. He wondered why. But he wasn’t an idiot.
Vanity might act cool about him “carrying on,” as she’d once put it. But he knew women better than that.
They’d clicked, and for right now, he didn’t want to do anything to rock the boat. What he wanted was Vanity. Again. Repeatedly. And he wanted to hear more about her work, the loss of family members.
He wanted to discover all the different facets to her personality, because so far what he’d seen had been pretty impressive.
Whitney had almost reached his car when he pulled away—leaving her without a backward glance.
He thought only about tomorrow. About Vanity.
About the fact that she was slowly reeling him in, and she didn’t appear to be trying. More unsettling than that—he enjoyed her efforts.
CHAPTER TEN
THE LIGHT TAP sounded on her door just as she poured her third cup of coffee. Blowing over the top to cool it, she padded barefoot to the front room, peeked out the window, and saw Stack wearing a big sweatshirt, jogging pants and running shoes.
The chilly morning fogged his every breath, and he had this small, sexy, maybe anticipatory smile on his mouth.
The accelerating of her heartbeat made it tough to keep it cool, but she opened the door with a casual, “Hey, Stack. I wasn’t expecting you.”
He pressed in without an invitation, closed the door, took her mug from her, and then took her mouth.
Yup, anticipation. Had he missed her? She hoped so, because she’d sure missed him. Long into the night she’d thought about him, about him with Whitney, about his reaction if he ever learned of her machinations.
The lingering kiss swept away her worries.
God, he was better than the coffee, delivering a stronger jolt than caffeine ever could.
With small nibbling kisses, he eased away. “I needed that.”
Eyes still closed, she nodded. “Mmm. Me, too.”
The smile sounded in his tone when he whispered, “Hi.”
She struggled to ground herself. “Okay. I could get used to that.”
“To unexpected visitors?”
Her eyes felt heavy as she got them open. “To morning kisses.”
Bringing his brows together, he said, “You want to clarify that as per our understanding last night?”
Lifting a brow, she showed her confusion.
“Morning kisses from...?”
“Oh.” She leaned in and hugged him. “I could get used to hot morning kissing from a hotter fighter—”
He reached as if to smack her butt again.
Laughing, her bottom now covered with both of her hands, she blurted, “A hot fighter named Stack Hannigan!”
He grinned with her. “There you go.” Then he pointed to his mouth. “One more?”
“With pleasure.” She slipped her arms around his neck and teased, catching his bottom lip in her teeth, then licking his upper lip, and lastly angling her head to taste him deeply.
He growled, held her with one arm, and took over.
She was about to drag him to the floor when he said, “Much more of that and I’ll spill your coffee.”
Oh, yeah, she’d forgotten all about it.
He looked her over and smiled. “Cute.”
“What?”
“The messy hair, flannel pants, naked toes and paint on your cheek.” Between his fingers, he rubbed a hank of hair that had fallen from her hasty updo. “It’ll wash out?”
“Hmm?” She pulled the thick lock of hair out to see it, and grimaced at the blue paint with flecks of yellow and amber. Quickly she tucked it behind her ear. “It will, yes.”
“Toes aren’t cold?”
“A little. I was downstairs painting but left my slippers at the bottom of the stairs.”
“Got paint on them, too, huh?”
His grin charmed her. “Maybe.” When she painted, she tended to get it everywhere. Luckily she also had a shower in the basement, and a utility tub for cleaning her brushes.
“I especially like this camisole.” Bold as you please, Stack traced one finger around her nipple, sending a shiver all the way to her core.
Returning to reality, she inhaled sharply and stepped out of reach. “Did you come by just to warm me up, or for another reason?”
“Since you said you’d be working, I figured I’d take the dogs for a jog.” Wearing a curious frown, he glanced beyond her. “Where are they?”
Uh-oh. Heat flashed to her face, making her warmer still. “Um...” Somehow she just knew he would end up irked. “See, I was painting and they were great, except that they kept wanting in and out, so when Leese called—”
With no inflection whatsoever—which sort of made it worse—he restated, “Leese called you.”
Fascinating how his eyes darkened to gray-blue. She nodded. “Remember, he and I are friends.”
He started around her for the kitchen—looking for Leese?
Vanity hurried after him. “He had the same idea as you! They’re all out jogging.”
Stopping abruptly, Stack kept his back to her. The set of his shoulders, his spine, showed his displeasure.
And still Vanity soaked up the sight of him.
Bright morning sunshine poured through the window, showing the blond highlights in his brown hair, caressing the breadth of those amazing shoulders.
She paused right behind him. “I’m not interested in Leese. Not that way.”
“What way is that?”
She stepped closer to his back, slid her hands under his loose sweatshirt, up his bare sides, then crisscrossed them over his chest. She rested her cheek against him. “The way I’m interested in you.”
His head tipped back. “Sexually.”
“That, yes.” She trailed one hand down, over those lust-inspiring abs that tightened even more with her touch, then lower still.
“Vanity,” he warned in a voice turned to gravel.
But he made no attempt to stop her.
Through the soft material of his jogging pants, she cupped his testicles, felt him stiffen—pretty much all over—and lightly fondled him. “I have no interest in Leese other than as a friend. But with you... I hope it doesn’t scare you off, but everything about you interests me.”
After drawing three quick breaths, he retrieved her hand from his pants and turned to face her. He kept his gaze steady, his expression impassive.
She couldn’t read his mood, and that worried her.
“If you needed help with the dogs, you should have called me. Not another man, Vanity. Me.”
Tricky. She licked her lips as she considered how to explain without irritating him more. “The thing is, I didn’t call Leese, he called me.”
His jaw worked, his right eye ticked. “He shouldn’t have.”
Indignation chased off her concern. Much as she loved Stack, much as she hoped for a forever kind of relationship with hi
m, there were certain things she wouldn’t allow. “I want you, Stack. A lot.”
He didn’t book, and he didn’t look alarmed by that declaration. In fact, the slight easing at the corners of his mouth encouraged her.
Best that she get things cleared up right now.
“But—”
His gaze went to the ceiling. “Always a ‘but.’”
“—you won’t dictate my friends to me.” She didn’t take friends lightly, ever. Leese, with his platonic caring and no-pressure support, was her second best friend, right behind Yvette.
Gaze clashing back to hers, Stack put his fists to his hips. “You can’t expect me to—”
“Trust me? Yes, I do. Just as I trust you.” Though he didn’t look receptive, she pressed closer and knotted her hands in his sweatshirt. “You and me, like you said last night. I agreed to that, remember?”
His hands clasped her wrists. “What I’m remembering is that you threatened to ask Leese to be your date to the wedding if I said no.”
Frustration twisted her mouth. “Again? We’ve been over this.” Going to tiptoe, she enunciated sharply, “I do not want to have sex with Leese.”
A cough sounded behind them.
Vanity froze, then dropped her head to Stack’s chest. “It’s Leese, isn’t it?”
Stack rubbed between her shoulder blades. She heard his amusement and his satisfaction when he confirmed it. “None other.”
Vanity twirled around with a strangled welcome. “Leese, hi.” He was now sweaty and undeniably sexy. Wind had tousled his dark hair, and his cold-chafed cheeks made the pale blue of his eyes more pronounced. Like Stack, Leese’s cut body did amazing things for sweatshirts and running pants. “The dogs behaved?”
“They have more energy than I do.” He laid the leashes on the counter and helped himself to a glass of water.
Stack tracked his every step with sharpened animosity.
Vanity nudged him, and when his gaze shifted down to her, she shook her head—an indication that he should knock it off.
He didn’t.
“Why’d you call her?”
Leese finished the water, his throat working as he drank it all. When the glass was empty, he put it in the dishwasher.
Stack didn’t miss how comfortable Leese was in her kitchen.
To Vanity, Leese said, “I let them into the backyard since they weren’t ready to chill yet, and I thought you were still painting.” He rested back against the counter, folded his arms, and finally addressed Stack. “I knew she had a lot to get done today. Just checked to see if she needed anything.”
Match, meet fuse.
“That’s exactly why I’m here.” Stack took a step toward Leese. “They’re my sister’s dogs. If Vanity needs help with them, I’ll help.”
Not even a little intimidated, Leese advanced a step, as well. “If it was Armie who’d helped, would you be staging a pissing contest, or is that just reserved for me?”
“You tell me. Is there a reason you’re different?”
Vanity threw up her hands. “Know what? You’re both asses, and I don’t have time for it. Let yourselves out. I’ve got work to do.”
Ready to make a grand exit, she headed for the basement stairs, but Stack snagged the rear of her pajama pants and hauled her back. Wrapping her up in his arms, this time with her back to his front, he said to Leese, “See you at the rec center.”
With his gaze going over Stack’s firm hold on her, Leese nodded. “Right. Later.” On his way past, he winked at Vanity, which made Stack growl.
Ready to throttle him, Vanity strained away. “Let go.”
No reply. Stack held her, occasionally pressing a kiss to her cheek or temple, until he heard the front door close. Then, as the anger uncoiled, he nuzzled her neck. “I’m sorry.”
Un-freaking-believable. “Oh, now you’re sorry.” Everywhere his mouth touched, her skin tingled—but she fought it. “You owed the apology to Leese.”
“He and I will talk.” His clever mouth drifted to her ear, making her toes curl. Using his breath as a tease, he whispered, “Not for you to worry about.”
She started to relax against his big, hot body—then it hit her, and she strained away again, twisting to face him. “Oh, my God. You moved the pissing contest to the rec center.”
Giving up, Stack released her. “He and I will talk, that’s all.”
Crossing her arms and tapping one foot, Vanity demanded, “About what?”
“You.” The dogs hit her back door, and Stack moved around her to let them in. Euphoric at finding Stack there, they began a frantic yapping. Stack knelt down, and Norwood climbed into his lap with his entire body jiggling.
Maggie piddled on the floor.
Sighing, Vanity gathered up paper towels and cleaner. While reassuring Maggie that she was forgiven, Vanity swabbed up the mess.
Stack just watched her. “You’re good with the dogs.”
“But not so good with friends?” She threw the paper towels in the trash with more force than necessary.
Slowly Stack stood again. “You’re under the misguided perception that straight men can actually be friends with women that look like you.”
Looks! Few things could set her off as easily as that.
“Oh?” She swung around to face him. “So you aren’t Merissa’s friend? Yvette’s? Cherry’s? They’re all attractive, so are you lusting after them?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “No?”
Eyes widening, she gaped at him. “Oh. My. God. You do! You lust after all of them!”
Making a face, he said, “I don’t go around lusting after anyone.” Then he verbally backtracked, “Well, you, now. But only because you’ve pushed me—”
“Oh, poor Stack. Have I driven you to distraction?”
Curious, he leaned a hip against the counter and studied her. After what felt like an eternity, he said, “Let me start this over.”
Gesturing grandly, Vanity said, “Go.”
“All men have sexual thoughts about all attractive women who aren’t related.”
Her jaw loosened at such an outrageous outpouring of nonsense. She concentrated on her umbrage, rather than her heartache, because it seriously broke her heart to think of Stack wanting every other woman...meaning she wasn’t special to him at all. “So you have—”
“Considered it? Yes. Ever thought to act on it? No.” He didn’t approach her. When the dogs tried to regain his attention, he pulled two chew treats from his pocket.
The dogs went nuts.
After a long look at her face, Stack tended to the dogs. “C’mon Maggie, Norwood. You guys want treats? Good dogs, let’s go.” He led the leaping, woofing dogs to the living room.
So now he’d just walk away without a word. Throat tight and heart heavy, Vanity turned away to face the window over the sink and concentrated on hiding her hurt.
Then, big warm hands settled on her shoulders, and Stack leaned around to see her face.
She ducked, avoiding eye contact.
“Vanity.” His arms came around her for a hug. He propped his chin atop her head and for the longest time just held her.
Refusing to be the first to talk, Vanity stood there, loving his touch, wondering what it meant, and knowing she had to get it together.
Stack gave her another squeeze. “I’m going to try total honesty here, and I hope I don’t dig myself in deeper.”
She said nothing.
“I am friends with the ladies. Harper most of all because she’s around the rec center so often. Friends only, because they’re a part of our group. Have I noticed them as smoking hot women? I’m not blind, so, yeah. Have I ever given it thought? Yes. I’m a man.”
She felt him shrug, and her eyes narrowed. She had to pinch he
r mouth tight to keep silent.
“But would I have ever made a move on them? No.”
Bully for him. So while he imagined sex with all of them, he kept his hands to himself. Big whooping deal.
When she said nothing, he continued.
“For a long time we all knew Gage had a thing for Harper. Maybe even before Gage knew it.”
Yes, one only had to see Gage and Harper together to know they were meant to be.
“For the most part, we’ve always treated her as a relative. Now that they’re married, that’s what she is to us. Family.”
His hands went to her shoulders, gently massaging while he talked.
“The day Cherry showed up, everyone noticed, believe me. Cherry’s stacked, and she’s cute and likes to party. But Denver made it clear he wanted her. End of story. We all respected that, and none of us would ruin a friendship over a woman.”
No, they wouldn’t. They were loyal to each other, and Vanity admired that a lot.
Stack’s tone went quieter, heavier. “We all remembered when Yvette left. She was still young. We knew what happened to her, what she’d gone through. And of course we knew Cannon had been there when it all went down.”
Yvette, a sister of her heart. Vanity turned in Stack’s arms, silently asking for comfort from the memories.
He gave it, gathering her close.
Yvette had been hunted by a madman, almost raped, threatened with being burned alive... Vanity shivered, and Stack’s arms tightened around her.
She relaxed enough to share with him. “Yvette had told me about Cannon. She made him sound like Superman. Larger than life and very heroic.”
“That about covers it.”
“I knew he was special to her.”
One of his hands dipped down to the small of her back. “None of us realized she was the one for Cannon, not until she came back to town. Then it clicked. During the years she was away, Cannon dated plenty. But he never settled on anyone. When he saw Yvette again, it was pretty clear. He wasn’t himself anymore. He was... I don’t know. Part of her, too.” He dipped to see her face. “Does that make sense?”