by Lori Foster
“Yes. They’re a couple.” Together, they were whole.
“Part and parcel with each other.” Stack’s hand smoothed up and down her back, then settled lower near her hip. “Merissa is Cannon’s little sis. That alone makes her off-limits. But the fact that Cannon knows us all so well, knows how we think—”
Indignation dug back in. “Meaning what?”
Fighting off a smile, Stack said, “Meaning we pretty much focus some part of our brains on sex 24/7. All guys. But it’s just random thoughts. Not intent.”
Having finally regained her aplomb, Vanity patted his chest. “I understand.”
“You do?”
“Sure.” She almost smiled over her deviousness, but she managed to keep it in check as she said, “Women are the same.”
His relieved expression fell in a comical way. “What does that mean?”
“Oh, please. You think guys have a copyright on lust? Pfft.”
Brows gathering together, Stack levered her back the length of his long arms. “So you have been lusting after Leese?”
Swallowing her laugh, she managed a credible shrug. “I’m saying I’ve noticed his gorgeous blue eyes, that his body is different from yours but just as shredded. Heck, all the guys at the rec center are drop-dead sexy—in their own unique ways.”
His hands fell away from her. “Un-fucking-believable.”
“Oh, poor Stack. You were so honest, I wanted to be honest with you, too. I didn’t realize you thought women had only pure thoughts. Were you under the assumption that we sit around thinking about knitting or shopping or doing our nails?” Vanity poked him in the chest. “You think we wear virtual blinders and only notice a guy’s shoulders, abs or butt when we fall in love?”
“Butts?” Disbelief lightened his scowl. “You’re telling me you moon over guy’s asses?”
The laugh bubbled out. When she saw the flare of outrage in his eyes, she slapped a hand over her mouth, but it didn’t help. “Muscled glutes.” She could barely get it said around her giggles. “Mmm.”
His eyes narrowed. “Now you’re fucking with me.”
Pinching the air, she confirmed, “Little bit.”
Relief had him taking a deep breath. “Brat.”
“You are too funny, Stack.” She drew him down for a kiss, then hugged him tight and said, “But we really do.”
Again he stiffened. Luckily her hold was tight, so he couldn’t get away.
“You really do what? And, no, don’t you dare start snickering again!”
She gave him another squeeze for good measure. “Women notice all the same things men notice, including a well-shaped butt.”
“Hell.”
“Yours is really nice. All the ladies think so.”
He groaned.
“But for now—” she moved both hands down to clasp his sexy backside “—this ass is mine.”
He grinned with her. “I have no problem with that.”
“No, you just have a problem with me having friends.” Before he could get his anger going again, she moved away and then pointed at him. “We’re the same. We both appreciate good eye candy.”
His lip curled. “Men are not eye candy.”
“That is the dumbest, most sexist thing I’ve ever heard. Men are totally eye candy—especially when we’re talking buff fighters. But my point is that, like you, I can admire without crossing a boundary. And so can Leese.”
“Not the same thing at all. Leese would be in your pants in a heartbeat if you gave him any encouragement.”
“I...” She closed her mouth, because that one stymied her. Would Leese be amenable to that? Sure, she admired him physically. But he wasn’t for her, not that way.
Stack crossed his arms, waiting.
Rolling her finger in the air, she said, “Rewind. Do you think Leese is honorable?”
His jaw worked before he gave a grudging confirmation. “Yes.”
“And an honorable man wouldn’t overstep, especially among friends. Right?”
A pulse in his temple throbbed. “Depends on how well he understands the circumstances.”
“Well, there you go!” She threw up her hands. “I’d already told Leese we were hooking up after the wedding.”
Cold disbelief washed over his expression. His whispered “What?” sounded worse than a shout.
But given her own annoyance, Vanity didn’t care. “And this morning I told him that we’d extended things. Believe me, Leese understands because I explained it to him.” And he’d been happy for her.
Stack’s eyes burned. “You gossiped about us to Leese?”
Retrenching a little, Vanity turned her tone reasonable instead of defensive. “Talked, not gossiped. He’s a friend. Friends share things.”
“What exactly did you tell him about us?”
A knock sounded on her front door, followed by the manic barking of the dogs.
Expression lethal, Stack stepped aside, giving her a path to the living room.
Glad for the reprieve, Vanity hurried her step, nudged the dogs aside, peeked out, and then wanted to groan. She rubbed her face, mentally braced herself, and opened the door to Armie and Justice.
“Hey, doll.” Catching Maggie’s collar so she couldn’t get out, Armie bent to put a kiss to Vanity’s cheek and stepped in uninvited.
Restraining Norwood, Justice followed him. “Vanity. How goes it?”
She knew Justice, but not as well as the others. She had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. A veritable behemoth at six feet five inches tall, his dark hair hacked into a mohawk, his goatee untrimmed, Justice might intimidate most people. But Vanity knew he was friends with the others, and that told her he was one of the good guys.
“It goes well.” She closed the door behind them. “What’s up?”
“On our way to the rec center,” Armie said, while giving the dogs a few pets. “Figured we might as well swing by to see if you need anything.”
Justice held up a pack of colas. “And I needed to replace these since I helped myself during the football game.”
Reminding the dogs of their fresh chews, she said, “Maggie, Norwood. Look what I have.” Enthused all over again, the dogs gave up their adoration of the guests and went back to snacking.
With that accomplished, Vanity said to Justice, “I wanted you to make yourself at home.” She prided herself on being a good and generous hostess.
“And I want to repay.” He turned to head to the kitchen and tripped over his own feet. “Stack. Whassup, man?”
Armie glanced that way, too, then did a double take. “What the hell, man. Someone steal your favorite toy or kick your puppy or something?”
Stack’s narrowed gaze transferred to her.
Oh, great. So he wanted her to explain? Fine, she would explain. “We were discussing life and relationships and the differences between men and women. Some of my insights have left him less than pleased.” She pushed past everyone and headed through the kitchen for the basement door. “I’m touched by all this sudden concern, and the revolving door visits have been fun, but now I really do need to get to work.”
Again, Stack caught her as she passed, pulling her in for a kiss she assumed would be quick and...wasn’t.
Holy smokes, it wasn’t.
When he finally let her up for air, he brushed her cheek with his thumb and smiled. “I’ll see you tonight at the rec center.”
A reminder, or did he need confirmation that she wouldn’t back out?
Like she’d let a little disagreement throw off her big plans. Not likely.
“I’ll be there.” She forced one foot in front of the other, each step taking her farther away from what she really wanted, which was more of that heated kissing.
More of Stack.
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The dogs rushed to join her and almost trampled her on the way down the stairs.
Her painting waited. She needed to finish it. She really did.
But without another thought she set it aside and replaced it with a smaller blank canvas. As she mixed a bit of acrylic paint, she smiled.
Yes, she and Stack had hit a few roadblocks. But like her, he didn’t hold a grudge. Tonight she’d have him all to herself again.
Little by little, she’d win him over—as planned.
* * *
STACK TOOK THE colas from Justice, put them in the fridge, then pointed to the front door.
Wearing jackass grins, both Armie and Justice retreated.
“Care to share the details of your and Vanity’s little chat?” Armie asked.
“No.” He opened the door, and after they’d all stepped out, he locked it and pulled it shut. “How about you tell me what happened after the wedding instead?”
Brows up, Justice bounced his gaze from Stack to Armie. “Something happened after Saint’s wedding?”
Playing it cool, Armie shrugged. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Right. Well, Stack was glad to enlighten him. “Last I saw you, Merissa was leading you away.”
A sort of blindsided panic fell over Armie. “The fuck you say.”
“Oh ho,” Justice crowed. “You booked with Rissy and don’t remember it?”
Armie rounded on him. “You don’t say her name!”
Justice rolled in his lips, but his big body shook with silent laughter.
“And you.” Armie bunched his shoulders toward Stack. “Don’t start fucking rumors about Cannon’s baby sis.”
Ah. So now she was “Cannon’s baby sis” when usually they referred to her as Rissy—a pet name Cannon had given her. Was it Armie’s way of reminding himself of her relationship to a friend? “The way I heard it, Cannon’s the one who told her to see that you got home.”
“Bullshit. I don’t need anyone to see any damn thing, especially not Rissy.”
Especially not Rissy, because Stack knew Armie had it for her bad. But there was that baby-sis issue, and few men would dare go there.
Then again, he knew Merissa well enough to know it’d take Cannon’s equal for her to be truly interested. Her brother cast a big shadow, and few could ever step out from under it.
Armie, however, had always been the exception.
The problem, beyond her connection to Cannon, was that Armie had an outrageous, totally warranted reputation. He was a sexual glutton who broke through boundaries with gusto.
Given his preferences for sexual variance, Armie had an almost fanatical avoidance of “nice” girls.
And Merissa was nicer than most.
“Saint,” Justice said, again referring to Cannon’s fight name, “knew you were smashed. He probably wanted her to play your babysitter.”
Armie popped his neck. “I wasn’t so drunk that I don’t remember, you ass. I’m just saying, Rissy hailed me a cab, and I said thanks and goodbye at the curb. End of story.”
Stack nodded toward Armie’s truck. “She left her MO on the back window.”
They all turned, and there, written in the dust on the window it said, “Rissy was here.”
Armie stared at it. Justice grinned.
Rissy often left that particular message to let others know if she missed them in a visit or a call. Apparently she had missed Armie recently—or maybe she’d driven his truck home for him. Who knew?
Now that he’d effectively deflected their interest, Stack got them moving again. “I’m guessing the next wedding will be for Denver and Cherry.”
Armie nudged Justice. “Sounds like the Wolf has marriage on his mind, huh?”
Grinning, Justice threw a massive arm around Stack, almost knocking him over. “That so, Wolf?”
“What’s with the fight names today?”
“Avoidance?” Armie accused Stack. “Okay, got it. Well, I can help you with that. See, we can talk instead about how Justice prefers his fight moniker to what he got saddled with at birth.”
Stack grinned. “Let’s hear it.”
Justice tried to protest, but Armie announced, “Eugene Wallington,” with proper gravity for such a weighty name.
Balled up like a gigantic bulldog, Justice said, “That’s right, boys. Laugh it up. But if I hear either of you repeating it, you’ll pay for it in the cage.”
Stack and Armie shared a look, then both burst out laughing. Justice was good, but he’d dropped down from heavyweight to light heavyweight because he’d hit an obstacle to the belt. Unlucky for him that Stack, Cannon and soon Armie would create even more obstacles to a LHW belt.
“Assholes,” Justice muttered.
“Ah, Eugene,” Armie said. “I didn’t mean to hurt your tender feelings.”
Relieved that they were no longer poking around in his business, Stack bade them goodbye with a wave and headed toward his car. He’d be getting to the park late now, and his good morning mood was blown to hell.
And still he’d enjoyed seeing Vanity. Even arguing with her was somehow satisfying.
He was in it up to his neck, and he knew it. Now he just needed to make sure everyone else knew it.
Vanity could have all the friends she wanted, as long as those friends understood she was off-limits—to everyone but him. He’d make that clear once he hit the rec center.
Then tonight, he’d have her again.
It’d be a long day and a slow burn. Good thing he had plenty to keep him busy.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MIDWAY THROUGH THE DAY, Stack went to his sister’s place. He brought a grilled chicken sandwich for his mother from her favorite fast-food restaurant, but also unloaded some groceries into the cabinet. Tabby’s preferred cereal, pasta, jarred spaghetti sauce...lots of stuff that’d keep, as well as some fresh foods.
Tabby wasn’t on a healthy diet like him. Sometimes he envied her the freedom of junk food and the abundance of sugary treats. He knew her sweet tooth well and loaded the pantry with packaged brownies, donuts, cookies and cakes.
“You didn’t need to do this.”
He glanced up at his mom. “Should you be up and about?”
Snorting, she pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down with her sandwich and drink. “I’m not an invalid.” She nodded at the lunch meat he put in the drawer of the fridge. “Tabby picked up some groceries yesterday.”
“I know.” Just as he knew she was stretched thin and had to buy discriminately, or impose on their mom. Fucking Phil never contributed, but the bastard ate. “I wanted to.” Luckily, Phil was nowhere around, so Stack didn’t have to deal with him. “Tell her I did it for you if you want to.”
“All right.” She nodded at the chair. “Sit with me for a little while.”
Stack glanced at the kitchen clock. He could spare ten minutes. Barely. He turned a chair and straddled it. “No fibbing. How do you feel?”
“Only a slight headache and a little congestion left.” She ate a fry, then said, “Tell me more about Vanity.”
He didn’t know much more than she did, and what he did know he couldn’t share. Like how Vanity had that sweet spot behind her ear that made her breath catch. And how her breasts filled his hands. How pretty and pink her nipples were.
The sexy sounds she made when he—
“I’m going to blush,” his mom warned, snapping him out of the memories. She circled her finger in front of his face. “It’s all there. Plain as day.”
“Sorry.” He grinned, unrepentant. “Let’s just say she keeps me on my toes.”
“So I saw. I like that about her.”
Stack liked it, too. “I never know what to expect.”
“Perfect!”
Never before had his mother gushed over a woman. Usually the opposite. But then, she always knew he wasn’t in it for the long haul. Whitney had been his one and only foray into an actual relationship, and that had turned into a Grade-A disaster.
“You’re a handful,” Lynn said. “Maybe because you mostly raised yourself.”
She did seem mighty hung up on that lately. “You did fine, Mom.”
“So many times you told me Tabby needed tough love, not more coddling. Hindsight is a terrible thing, but now...”
Now she agreed? “It’s never too late.”
Her smile was fleeting.
Stack understood. Tabby had dug herself into such a deep hole, there really weren’t many options for climbing out.
But neither did he want her to just sit in there.
“You’re so competent and clear on what you want in life, it makes you a little difficult.”
“And here I thought I was laid-back.”
“I imagine it’s tough for a woman to get a read on you.”
Vanity seemed to read him just fine. “If you say so.”
“It’d take a strong woman to win you over.”
“No one is ‘winning me over.’ I make my own rules.” Except that Vanity had led him by the nose through the craziest rules he’d ever heard of.
“Maybe,” she said, “you need a little tough love, too.”
When the knock sounded on the door, he frowned at his mom. “You expecting anyone?”
“No.” She turned in her seat to watch as Stack went to the door.
Before he reached it, he heard the dogs, and he knew. He jerked the door open, and there stood Vanity, arms overflowing, the dogs’ leashes held tight in one hand.
Over the top of her load, he saw her eyes widen.
“Stack! What are you doing here?”
He took a large box from her and an enormous tote bag with something big inside. “That’s my question to you.”
The scent of spicy chili rose from the box.
“Don’t tip it!” She hurried in, closed the door and unleashed the dogs, who made a beeline for his mother. “Kitchen, please,” she told Stack.