by Lori Foster
“She’s not you, Stack.” Vanity’s hand touched his chest, right over his heart. “You’re more resolute than most. You see things very black and white. But Tabby needs a little more help.”
“Mom has been running behind her for years. That’s only made it easier for her to screw up because there’ve never been any real consequences.” He needed Vanity to understand. “I love her. I want to see her get it together. Especially now that she’s going to have a baby. I just don’t think anyone can get it together for her. She has to want it enough for herself to make it happen.”
Vanity watched him a moment longer, then she smiled, a real smile this time. “You are the most amazing man.”
Thankful that she no longer looked so upset, he teased, “Not sweet, huh?”
“Amazing and very, very sweet.” She stepped in closer. “You don’t mind if I buy her the occasional gift?” Without giving him a chance to reply, she explained, “I like her. I promise I’m not just schmoozing you. Tabby and I enjoyed a day at the spa and shopping, and just because she doesn’t have her own money to spend doesn’t mean I should have to go alone. She’s really grateful, and I have a lot of fun with her and—”
Stack quieted her with a finger to her lush lips. “It’s your money, babe. I can’t tell you how to spend it. I just ask that you use moderation.”
She nodded.
He moved his hand only so he could kiss her. And that, he knew, was something he’d enjoy doing for the rest of his life.
Kissing Vanity was about the nicest thing he’d ever experienced.
“For the record, I know you would never use Tabby, or my mom, to get closer to me. You’re more honest than that.” He drifted his thumb over her downy cheek. “You’re the most up-front, honest woman I’ve ever met.”
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
With Tabby’s announcement, everything had just changed in a very big way. A baby.
That thought, soft and sweet, made him think of other soft, sweet moments.
Moments with Vanity.
He was excited about being an uncle, but when he considered it, it was with Vanity at his side. He leaned down, kissed her bottom lip, her jaw, her temple. “I care about you, Vanity.” That didn’t feel adequate, so he added quietly, “A lot.”
She went still, but it didn’t worry him. One way or another, he’d ensure that Vanity felt the same. She was his, now and always, whether she realized it yet or not.
Blinking big eyes at him, she whispered, “You do?”
Stack nodded. “Tonight, after we get home from Rowdy’s, I’m going to show you how much.”
* * *
PHIL DIDN’T KNOW where to go or what to do, so he walked. Down the street, aimless, irate. A little scared.
Hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders hunched against the cold, he kept on plodding. He didn’t have a car or a phone, and he only had forty-two bucks in his pocket. It shocked him that Tabby would end it like that.
Pregnant. Jesus, he didn’t want a kid. Most of the time he hadn’t really wanted Tabby. Not anymore. But now...
She’d kicked him out.
That stung. Who the fuck did she think she was? He’d said all the wrong things, he knew that now. He should have demanded time to get his shit together. His clothes, his stash in the dresser drawer.
His gun.
And if demands hadn’t worked, he could have pleaded a little. She’d always been a sucker for his groveling. In the past, she’d forgiven him everything.
It was her asshole brother that had her being so unreasonable now. God, he hated Stack Hannigan and his holier-than-thou attitude. He wished he’d hired the guys to do more than slow Stack down. He wished he’d had them cut him a few times. Maybe that’d take the cockiness away.
But probably not. Everything was always so easy for Stack.
So what if Tabby funded Phil? They were married. That’s what married couples did. Hadn’t he stuck with her even though Stack despised him? And he hadn’t said shit when she moved in her mom.
He’d gotten her dogs, damn it. Hell of a gift. Now she’d thrown it all back in his face, making him leave with only the clothes on his back and his coat...
It suddenly occurred to him that he had his wallet. He yanked it out and saw the bank card. Oh, hell yeah.
Did they have any cash in the account?
Tabby had always done the banking and bill paying, but he assumed she had enough there to cover the rent and utilities.
Whatever the amount, it’d help.
With a new purpose, he quickened his step, and two blocks down he found a trio of teens hanging out. “Any of you got a phone I can use?”
They laughed. The tallest one said, “Fuck off, dude.”
Phil jutted his chin. “I’ll give you five bucks. A two-minute local call, that’s all I need.”
The kid eyed him. “Who you gonna call?”
“A friend. I just need to wrangle a ride, that’s all.”
After some more thought, the boy said, “Give me the money first.”
Phil pulled a five from his wallet and held it up. “Phone?”
The kid eyed him some more, and finally pulled a cell from his pocket.
As promised, Phil kept the call short and sweet. Soon as he finished the boy took his fin, and the group moseyed on. Twenty minutes after that, Whitney pulled up.
She grinned when she saw him huddled next to a tree, trying to avoid the wind. “Aw, poor baby. She kicked you out?”
Phil strode around the hood and got in. The heat of the car permeated his frozen limbs, and he took his first deep breath. During the time he’d waited, his anger had grown, and now he fairly pulsed with it.
He’d make Tabby sorry. The bitch would regret treating him like this. He’d see to it.
And there wasn’t a fucking thing her brother could do about it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ALL DAY LONG, Vanity replayed the morning’s events in her mind.
I care about you. Her heart clenched, recalling those precious words from Stack. Oh, God, she loved him so much, and now he cared for her, too.
But did he care enough? What would he do when she told him everything?
Phil might’ve taken out a hit on Stack. She’d given Phil the money. Doubts, guilt, worry kept circling her brain until she did indeed feel sick. At Yvette’s shop she’d had too much time to think, and at the photo shoot she’d been distracted. Twice, the photographer had reminded her to smile.
Reluctantly, she decided she wouldn’t tell Stack about giving Phil money. Not yet. It would only exacerbate the animosity between Stack and Phil.
Instead, she put in a few calls and arranged for a private investigator to locate Phil. Jack Woolridge came highly recommended. He’d find out the truth for Vanity, and if it turned out that Phil had tried to hurt Stack, she’d hire the very best lawyers to see to it that he was punished.
There were times that having money was a huge benefit.
In the meantime, Stack had promised to show her how much he cared. Once he did, she could tell him how much she loved him. How she’d been in love with him for a while.
How she’d manipulated things to get his attention.
She’d confess everything, and hope he cared enough that it wouldn’t matter.
She’d just finished changing clothes to go to Rowdy’s when Stack called. Wanting to look her best tonight, she’d taken extra care with her outfit, hair and makeup.
She wanted to bowl Stack over.
“Hello, handsome.”
She heard the smile in his voice when he said, “Hey, darlin’. You’re back home?”
“Yes. Just about ready to walk out the door.”
He sighed. “This is one of those times that I
wish you weren’t always so prompt.”
Her heart stuttered. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. But I’m going to be a little late.”
She didn’t mean to say it, especially with so much snark, but the words just tumbled out. “Visiting Whitney?”
There was a moment of silence, and Stack laughed. “Is that jealousy I hear?”
Damn. Dropping to sit on the side of the bed, she glumly admitted, “Yes.”
“Vanity,” he chided. “You know there’s no reason.”
“Because you care about me, not her.”
“Yes.”
She believed him, she really did. But damn it, Whitney wanted him back. What woman wouldn’t? “I just hope Whitney understands that.”
“I promise I won’t let her misunderstand.”
Huffing a breath, Vanity gave up. “I’m sorry. I’m being clingy and a pain, and I’ll stop right now.” Maybe.
“No need to apologize. I’ll prove that to you tonight, too.”
Good thing she was sitting down. In a whisper, she said, “I can’t wait.”
“Afraid we’ll both have to. I called Whitney all day, but she only answered a little while ago. I’ll stop by her place to find out what I can about Phil, and then head to Rowdy’s. Everyone’s meeting us there.” He lowered his voice. “I want you to relax and have fun.”
“Soon as you get there,” she promised, “I will.”
After they hung up, she got hold of Yvette. The new bride agreed to meet with her at Rowdy’s, as did Cherry and Merissa. Vanity also called and invited Tabby, but Lynn said she was napping. The dogs, whom Vanity had returned to Lynn earlier that day, were sleeping with Tabby.
She missed them.
She missed Stack.
Hopefully a drink or two with a few friends would get her out of her gloomy mood.
* * *
WHITNEY BEAMED WHEN she opened the door and found Stack standing there. She knew him well, and while he looked as good as ever, she saw bitterness in his stormy blue eyes, anger in the set of his jaw and flex of his shoulders.
He didn’t want to be here, but things were working out in her favor.
Smiling, she said, “Stack. What a nice surprise.”
If anything, her greeting hardened his mood more. “This isn’t a social visit.”
“Given the fumes coming out of your ears, I’d already picked up on that.” In silent invitation, she opened the door wider, and Stack came in.
The urge to touch him, to stroke that finely honed body and feel all those tantalizing muscles, left her fingers tingling. She could still picture him naked, tensed over her, driving deep.
When she shivered, Stack’s eyes narrowed, and he said, “Knock it off, Whit. I’m not in the mood.”
“That’s unusual. As I recall, you were always in the mood.”
Expression bordering on cruel, he looked her over. “Not here, not with you.”
That hurt, but she didn’t let it show. After closing the door, she smiled and led the way to the kitchen. If Stack wanted to talk to her, he could follow.
And he did.
She poured herself a drink, and then him.
He ignored the glass. “You were with Phil at my sister’s apartment. Have you seen him since then?”
“Yes.” She said nothing more; why make it easy on him? Pulling out a stool at the bar in her kitchen, she took a seat, crossed her legs in a way that made her short skirt ride higher, and waited.
“You know Tabby kicked him out.”
A statement, not a question. But it wasn’t a problem. She’d thought about this for a long time, and she knew exactly how to work it to her advantage. “Yes, I know.”
“Tell me where I can find him.”
Ah, ah. Not that easy, Stack. She sipped her drink, taking her time—and testing his patience. When it looked as though he might turn around and walk out, she finally answered. “I honestly don’t know. The last time I saw him, he was looking for a ride to the bank.”
“Shit.” Hands on his hips, Stack turned his face away. As much to himself as to her, he growled, “I’m betting Tabby didn’t think to close out her accounts.”
“Your sister is a ditz, so, no, I’m sure she didn’t.” And now it’d be far too late. For many, many things.
All of them for her benefit.
His gaze cut to her. “Here’s a clue, Whit. You have zero rights to insult my family. Don’t do it again.”
Wow. She hadn’t expected that reaction. Anyone who met Tabitha knew the woman was an utter airhead.
Much like Stack’s new girlfriend.
To soften him back up, she made a peace offering. “I assume I’ll hear from Phil again. Should I call you if I do?”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“Your number is the same?”
“Yeah.” He hesitated, then propped a shoulder on the wall and folded his arms over his chest. “Is any of it true?”
Confused, she slid off the stool and approached him. With his arms that way, his biceps were positively huge. She went liquid inside, wanting him bad and determined to have him. If not now, then soon. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“All those things you’ve been whispering in Leese’s ear about a drug dealer sending out a hit on me.”
She nearly dropped her drink. How in the world did he know it was her? She’d never, not once, given her name to the hunky fighter. Stunned, she took a step back. “I don’t—”
His hand slashed the air. “Save the lies, Whitney. I know you too well. I see it on your face.”
She surged forward again, her hand on his forearm, her eyes as earnest as she could make them. “Leese means nothing to me. He was just a diversion, a way to pass the time.” She slid her hand higher, up to that rock-solid biceps. “I’ve been lonely since you broke things off.”
Smirking, Stack removed her hand, dropping it away as if she repulsed him. “Screw anyone you want, Whitney. I have no problem with that.”
“But—”
“I’m just trying to decide if you shared with Leese as part of a game, or if you were telling the truth.”
Damn him, she had her pride. Lifting her chin, she said, “I was trying to protect you.”
“Funny. Might’ve been easier if you’d just called me.”
“As I remember it, you refused my calls.”
That hit a note, given the softening of his expression. “All right. Then why not just come see me?”
She set her drink aside and, taking him by surprise, threw herself against him. Even though he didn’t return the embrace, he felt good, so good, and as she inhaled his musky scent, memories assailed her.
Red-hot, smoldering memories.
It didn’t matter that he went rigid, that he braced away from her. She opened one hand on the back of his neck and tunneled the other into his warm hair. “I saw you at your mother’s, and you were nasty to me.”
His hands clasped her upper arms as he attempted to free himself. “Stop coming on to me, and we can talk more civilly.”
Instead of allowing him an escape, she clenched him tighter and kissed his jaw, his throat—even managed to reach his mouth for a heartbeat.
Without the gentleness she knew so well, Stack thrust her away. Because her fingers had been tangled in his hair, she was sure the move hurt him as much as, maybe more than, it frustrated her.
Staggering, so turned on she didn’t care if he hated her, Whitney said, “I want you. Right now.”
His eyes were cold as he scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “Not happening.”
Breathing heavily, Whitney stared at him, trying to decide her next move.
He might have removed her lipstick from his lips, but not from his jaw or his
neck, and the fact that she’d marked him gave her a small measure of satisfaction. “You’ll come back to me.”
He laughed.
Undeterred, she straightened. “You’re in danger. I wish I had more facts to share, but right now I don’t.”
“I know you’re still smoking. Who’s your dealer? Where can I find him?”
Her dealer was Phil. But she wouldn’t admit that. Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t know. If I ask too many questions, it could put me in danger, too.”
“If any of it is true.”
She licked her lips, imagining his taste. “When I hear from Phil again, I’ll let you know.”
Eyes narrowed, he studied her, maybe trying to determine her honesty. Finally he nodded. “Anything you hear, anything at all, call me.”
And this time, she knew, he’d take her calls.
It was a start. A lot more than she’d had yesterday. Smiling, she watched him turn and walk away. The front door opened and quietly closed.
Mmm. Despite his denials, she knew she’d have him again.
But first, she needed to get hold of Phil. If he didn’t play his role right, everything could tumble back on her. She needed Phil to be the scapegoat.
And she needed Stack to believe it all, one hundred percent.
* * *
LEESE HAD JUST gotten to Rowdy’s bar when the ladies came in. Turning on his bar stool, he admired each of them. Vanity led the group, and tonight she’d ramped up the sex appeal in a low-cut black sweater that hugged her rack and emphasized her tiny waist. The contrast to her fair hair had every guy in the place taking a second, more lingering, look. Worn jeans, fashionably threadbare in tantalizing spots, fit tight enough to her long thighs to be leggings. The edgy heeled boots added an extra couple of inches to her height. In every way imaginable, she was stunning.
Before Stack got so territorial, Leese had considered going after her. But she’d made it clear she wanted Stack, not for the short term but in a happily-ever-after way.
Not his thing. Hell, he was just starting to enjoy life and all the perks of working with a Grade-A camp. By the day he became a better fighter, and in the process he redeemed past mistakes.