Fighting Dirty

by Lori Foster

  “Hey,” Armie said, looking so awesome in a snug-fitting long-sleeved T-shirt that, for once, didn’t have any provoking writing on it. Had he made that concession for her?

  She’d have to tell him that she liked the raunchy sayings on his T-shirts.

  But maybe later. Right now, his gaze was only on her. He didn’t even acknowledge Steve.

  “What are you doing here, Armie?” She glanced at Steve and found him studying Armie, his expression hostile. “I was just heading to your place.”

  Armie seemed to fight some internal battle before saying, “I wanted to follow you.”

  “Why?” She didn’t want Steve to know how upset she’d been. “I’m okay.”

  Pulling her in, Armie brushed a warm kiss over her mouth, rendering her mute. “’Course you are. But it’ll make me feel better. Okay?”

  Spellbound by that spontaneous, casual kiss, she nodded.

  And Steve suddenly exploded. “You.”

  Armie smirked. “Didn’t recognize me at first? Yeah, I always figured you to be obtuse. Now beat it.”

  Wait a minute. Merissa looked from one man to the other. What was she missing? “You two know each other?”

  “In a way,” Armie told her.

  “He,” Steve said, “attacked me!”

  Merissa looked at Armie, and sighed. “Why?”

  He laughed. “That’s it, Stretch? You don’t even ask if I did it?”

  “No need. I can see it on your face.”

  Armie tweaked her chin. “Well, you’re wrong. What I did was defend myself after his boyfriends jumped me.” Armie shrugged. “And yeah, after I finished with them I kicked his ass a little, too.”

  “A little?” Steve demanded. He turned to Merissa. “You saw me! You know how bad it was.”

  “When you were bedridden? Yes, I remember.” She huffed. “If you had your boyfriends—” Shoot, now she sounded like Armie. “Your friends jump him, then you all got what you deserved.”

  “Why thank you, honey.”

  “He was following me,” Steve insisted.

  “Not exactly how it happened,” Armie told her, sounding bored. “And if you want all the deets I’ll give them to you. But if I stay next to this bozo one second more, I’m going to have to deck him. And then you’ll have blood all over your porch. You don’t want that, do you, honey?”

  “No.” Merissa hiked her purse strap over her shoulder, lifted the tote bag and took Armie’s hand. “Later, Steve.”

  “It might not be so easy this time, you bastard!” Steve followed them off the porch. “I’ve been working out!”

  “Yeah?” Armie glanced back, his expression hopeful.

  “No,” Merissa said firmly. “Keep walking.”

  He didn’t.

  Turning to look over her ex, Armie said, “You got some pretty muscles now, Steve-o? You wanna see how we match up?”

  “Armie Jacobson, don’t you dare!” Merissa put both hands flat to his chest and pushed.

  She might as well have been pushing on a brick wall.

  A little panicked, she whirled around on Steve. “You’ve always been an idiot, but for God’s sake, use what little sense you have and leave!”

  “Hey.” Armie’s hands settled on her shoulders. “Calm down, honey. It’s okay.”

  She pivoted back to blast Armie. “I do not want you demolishing him where my neighbors might hear.”

  He cocked a brow. “So that’s your only concern?”

  “I live in a nice, quiet neighborhood of elderly people,” she growled. Did he actually think she still cared for Steve? “Take him apart on your own time, but not in my front yard!”

  “Okay, okay. Take it easy.”

  Knowing she’d overreacted and now feeling like a fool, Merissa tried to step around him.

  Armie pulled her against his chest. Near her ear, he said, “I’m sorry. I would never deliberately do anything to embarrass you.”

  That he would be so considerate, that he could pull his anger together so easily, amazed her. She dropped her forehead to his shoulder. “You won’t kill him?”

  His rough laugh teased along her nape. “Naw. I’ll leave him intact—for now.” He set her away from him, studied her face and asked, “Okay now?”

  They both ignored Steve.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Steve wasn’t ready to let it go. “I looked for you. Did you know that?”

  “No, I didn’t. But I wish I had.”

  “Now I know who you are!”

  Dark eyes glittering, Armie smiled at him. “I’ve always known who you are. Keep that in mind.”

  Okay, wow. That made Merissa shiver. And when she glanced at Steve, he looked far from unaffected.

  Armie took the tote bag from her, put an arm around her waist and walked her to her car. She got behind the wheel and set her purse and tote in the passenger seat.

  “I’ll be right behind you,” Armie promised.

  “You don’t mind that I’m coming over?”

  Instead of answering that, he brushed the backs of his knuckles over her cheek. “We need to clear the air anyway.” And with that he stepped back and shut her door.

  Uh-oh. That didn’t sound promising.

  In the rearview mirror, Merissa watched Armie go to his truck. Steve still stood on her walkway, glaring and looking like a disgruntled bully. She didn’t like leaving him there, but her house was locked up, the security system on, so there really wasn’t any damage he could do.

  When Armie started his truck, she pulled away from the curb. He followed. With every mile the anticipation ramped up and by the time they reached his apartment she’d worked herself up to a near frenzy of hyperneed and nervousness.

  Dinner, she reminded herself, trying to stay on task. Armie wanted to talk, too. She needed to know what had happened between him and Steve. Then, finally, she could try getting him back into bed.

  And this time, maybe they’d do more than sleep.

  CHAPTER SIX

  NEVER BEFORE HAD he been so acutely aware of a woman, but this woman had only to breathe and it turned him on. Having her in his apartment was like foreplay, even though sex wasn’t on the agenda.

  Torturous.

  While trying to stay otherwise busy, Armie heard her in the kitchen, moving around, cooking for him, and damn it, he liked it.

  He liked having her here, liked her being involved, liked the elusive daydream that maybe this could be a recurring thing.

  Together with Rissy. Playing house.

  He pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, drew a breath and, feeling slightly better grounded in reality, joined her in the kitchen.

  She wore a soft T-shirt and another pair of jeans that hugged her pert ass and long thighs. She’d left her shoes by his front door and stood at the stove in her socks.

  Stirring something in a big pan, she glanced up. “All done?”

  He’d thrown in some laundry and done a quick, general pickup of his place. He wasn’t a neat freak, but he wasn’t a slob, either. After that he’d returned some calls to sponsors, a few to other camps that had invited him to work out and one to Drew Black, the president of the SBC. He’d taken his cell to the bedroom to talk and Rissy had stayed in the kitchen, and still, every second, one part of his brain had dwelled on her nearness. “I’ll have to switch to the dryer in twenty minutes.”

  “I’ll remind you,” she promised, and her upbeat tone showed that she wasn’t suffering the same emotional uproar as him. “Dinner will be done right around then.”

  “What are you cooking anyway?” Scented steam floated in the kitchen, making his stomach rumble. He made a point of eating something every couple of hours. Usually some type of protein. But Rissy kept him so off-kilter he sometimes forgot to breathe, much less eat.

  “It’s a chicken dish my mom used to make. Don’t worry, Cannon approved it for his diet, so I’m guessing it’s okay for you, too.”

  As she stirred, her hips moved, and that st
irred him, too.

  Feeling awkward in his own kitchen, Armie asked, “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Nope. I’ve got it covered.”

  “Okay then.” He pulled out a chair and sat. Might as well get the show on the road. The sooner he put it behind him, the sooner he could get his head on straight again. “I guess we can talk now then.”

  Rissy flashed him a worried look, then went back to the food before her, her shoulders slumped. Seconds ticked by before she said, “Do I need to sit down for this?”

  Tension pulled his brows together. “Do you still care about Steve?”

  Her gaze shot to his. “No.”

  “Then it shouldn’t bother you to know I did, in fact, beat the shit out of him, as he accused—but not without good reason.”

  Her expression eased and she smiled. After stirring the food one more time she turned it on low and wiped her hands on a dish towel. Joining him at the table, she sat and took one of his hands. “Armie.”

  Alarm skittered up his spine. “Uh...what?”

  “I already knew you wouldn’t have pulverized Steve, or anyone else for that matter, without a very, very good reason. You didn’t have to tell me that.”

  So she thought she knew what motivated him? He almost laughed.

  “But if you’d like to tell me, I’ll admit I’m awfully curious.”

  When she looked at him like that, her eyes big and happy and sincere, especially while also touching him, he could barely think.

  “About Steve,” she prompted.

  Shit. “Right.” He freed his hand and sat back in the chair, putting a marginal amount of space between them. “I overheard him talking one night about getting his jollies with some other chick while you were in Japan with Cannon.”

  “Huh. Well, not surprising,” she said. “I never could credit him with a lot of integrity.”

  “Yet you stayed with him.”

  “Just casual dating.” She shrugged. “I’m twenty-three, Armie. Spending my nights at home alone didn’t sound all that fun, you know? Steve was a way to pass the time. We both knew it wasn’t serious. And honestly, if he’d told me he wanted to date other people, I probably wouldn’t have cared all that much.” She tipped her head. “But you wouldn’t have smashed him for that.”

  Still reeling over the idea of her being home alone, maybe lonely, Armie shook his head. “No.” An awful suspicion flamed to life in his guts, starting a very uncomfortable burn. Had he hurt Rissy by trying to protect her? Had she been home alone because he’d turned her down?

  She crossed her arms on the table, a smile dancing over her lips. “My curiosity mounts by the second. Out with it already.”

  Needing to move, he left his chair and went to the stove on the pretense of stirring the food. “He’d made a few shitty jokes about the lady, saying how he’d gotten her stoned to make her more agreeable. That was bad enough, but then he said he needed to restock his supply before you got home. So I followed him.”

  Merissa came to stand at the counter beside him. “Steve was planning to drug me?”

  “I only know what I heard.” He avoided her gaze; her nearness was already testing him enough. “Since I didn’t make a big secret out of following him, he had some of his friends circle around.” Satisfaction gave him a smile. “Guess he thought they’d outnumber me or something.”

  “Dumb,” Rissy said, showing a lot of faith in his ability. “So did you leave them all as beat-up as Steve?”

  “Close.” Finally he faced her. “If they hadn’t jumped me, I’d have let it go.” Maybe. “But once that first punch was thrown...”

  She patted his chest. “I understand.” She stopped patting and just let her hand, small and warm, rest against him. “Why didn’t you tell me all this before?”

  Beneath her palm, his heart thundered. Absurd that a simple, friendly pat would do that to him. “You dumped him, and good riddance. I figured that was the end of it until I saw him at your house today.”

  Her fingers curled against him the smallest bit, almost a caress. “You don’t have to worry about Steve.”

  He’d worry if he wanted to. “Stay away from him, okay? He’s bad news.”

  “No problem. I’d already told him there wasn’t anything left between us.”

  Because she wanted him, instead? Armie went around her. “Gotta get my laundry. I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay,” she called after him. “Dinner is ready, too.”

  “I won’t be long.” And even though it felt like fleeing, he got out of there as fast as he could. In the basement of the building, he switched his laundry into the dryer, then just took a moment to get it together. Tension gripped him the exact same way it did during sex.

  And Rissy had only stood there, looking like herself, cooking for him, touching his chest once.

  Maybe the celibacy had finally caught up to him.

  Maybe the ever-growing need had reached the boiling point.

  In the past, he’d managed by steering clear of her. He couldn’t do that anymore. He sure as hell couldn’t do it tonight.

  They still had more talking to do. Maybe after he told her everything, it would cease to be a problem. Rissy could end up avoiding him, and that would be the end of his torment.

  Or it could be hell on a whole new scale.

  * * *

  BY THE TIME Armie returned some fifteen minutes later, she had the table set, the food served and drinks poured.

  She felt ridiculously nervous, spending the evening with him this way. As a natural-born hostess who loved to cook for others, she’d been serving dinners since she was fourteen. But never for her and Armie alone. It felt far more intimate than it should have, and that made it more important than it needed to be. She sensed Armie had let her in, just a little, and she didn’t want to do anything to change his mind.

  She also didn’t want to have to walk on eggshells around him. She wanted to be herself—and she badly wanted him to be okay with that.

  He came into the kitchen cautiously, every muscle in his chiseled body tensed, his dark gaze unreadable. It wasn’t until he looked away at the table that she was able to draw a breath.

  “Ready?” Hopefully she’d infused just the right amount of casual ease into her tone. “You better be hungry.”

  “I am.”

  The way he said that, how he again looked at her, made her laugh nervously. She clamped her lips together, cleared her throat. “Then I hope you like it.”

  He held out her chair.

  Too warm, a little breathless and very aware of his nearness, she sat down.

  He seated himself across from her and waited until she’d taken a bite to do the same.

  Waiting, Merissa watched him. “Well?”

  “Good. Really good.” He forked up more, then gave an appreciative hum. “You’re an amazing cook.”

  “Thank you.” Relaxing a little, she teased, “I would’ve loved to make you dessert, too, but I know that’s pushing it.”

  “Once a week,” he said. “That’s what I allow myself. Keeps me from ransacking the doughnut shop.”

  “Is that what you like? Doughnuts?”

  “And cakes and pies and cookies.” He smiled at her. “Seems like every time I’m at your place, you have sweets set out. I’ve never been able to completely resist.”

  Not dessert, no, but it seemed he resisted her just fine. Except, maybe he’d finally stopped resisting, at least to a point. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to make you something each week. Maybe just two portions? Like two cupcakes? Or two cookies, or—”

  “You don’t have to twist my arm.”

  As if she even could. She glanced at his thick wrist, then at his broad hand and long fingers, his hard knuckles. His hands were big and capable and, compared to hers, so much stronger.

  Thinking about the differences in their sizes had her tingling in places inappropriate to the dinner table.

  While they ate, she continued to silently study him while
thinking about the fact he’d defended her against Steve. She remembered Steve’s battered state and didn’t have a single ounce of pity for him. She also agreed with Armie that it’d be best to totally steer clear of him. It seemed Steve had been an even-worse choice than she’d already realized.

  When his cell rang, he glanced at the screen, clicked a button and set it facedown on the table.

  Merissa just knew it was a woman trying to reach him.

  A second later, an incoming text dinged. Again he glanced at it, then disregarded it.

  Peeved, Merissa said, “If you want to reply—”

  “I don’t.” He tipped up his glass and finished off his tea. “Perfect meal. Thank you.”

  Still nettled, but knowing she had no right to be, she followed his lead and let it go. “You’re welcome.” She started to stand.

  “Rissy.”

  Her gaze lifted to his.

  “There was something else I wanted to talk about.”

  Sensing his seriousness, she sank back into her seat. The dishes could wait. “Okay.”

  “You’re a few years younger than me, so you probably don’t remember, if you were even aware at the time, but when I was eighteen, I got into some trouble.”

  She fiddled with her fork. “I remember there was something going on, but I don’t think I ever knew the details. I asked Cannon a few times but he always avoided a straight answer.”

  Armie stared right at her, into her eyes, almost as if he needed the connection. “He would have protected you from the ugly details.”

  Ugly details? Merissa didn’t look away. “Whatever it is,” she told him with certainty, “it couldn’t have been that bad.”

  He gave her a cross look. “Because your brother is still my friend?”

  “No.” She took in his careful expression, saw the hurt and loved him all the more. “Because I know you’re a really good man. Everyone knows you are. No, don’t shake your head at me, Armie Jacobson. It’s true. How you are with the kids at the rec center, how you back up your friends, men and women alike. How you always defend the underdog, how you treat people in general. If you made a mistake when you were eighteen, well, that was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.”