A Perfect Storm

by Lori Foster

  Scowling, Marla pulled back. “Bigger is definitely better.”

  Visuals came to Arizona’s mind, but she didn’t have quite the reaction Marla seemed to expect. She wrinkled her nose. “If you say so.”

  Marla shivered with pleasure. “He’s delicious.”

  Yeaaaahhhh, she’d let that one go. “You’re saying that even though he’s big, you don’t feel…” She couldn’t think of an appropriate word and settled for, “maybe threatened?”

  “With Spencer? Of course not.”

  Hmm. Okay, so Spencer was extra tall, extra muscular, solid, and loaded with ability. He had never hurt her.

  Contained her, yes. Hurt her, no. “So you like it that he’s big?”

  “That, and the man knows things.”

  Fascinating. What things could he know that she didn’t, that Marla found not only acceptable, but good enough to want again and again? “Give me an example.”

  “I’m not telling you!”

  Provoking her—because she really did want details—Arizona said, “That’s what I thought. You can’t give an example because you don’t know.”

  “He’s wonderful.”

  Arizona snorted. “Wonderfully pushy.”

  “He’s considerate and patient.”

  “So is my bookie,” Arizona told her, “but I wouldn’t want to screw him.” She shuddered at just the thought.

  Taking the bait, Marla leaned forward again. “He’s the best, most generous lover I’ve ever had.”

  “How many have you had?”

  “My God.” Gasping, Marla drew back once more. “That is none of your business!”

  “You brought it up.” Still ripe with curiosity, Arizona asked, “So what does Spence do specifically that’s so awesome you’d be willing to fight for him?”

  Marla blanched. “Fight? But…but I never said anything about fighting.”

  “No? So then what’s this?” Arizona waved a hand between them. “Some sort of warped social call?”

  Her mouth worked, but it took her a few seconds to get anything out. “He said you’re a stalker.”

  Considering she’d broken in and watched him sleep, she couldn’t deny that. “Ehhhh…maybe.”

  Marla found her courage again. “Well, whatever reason you’re here, you might as well give up on the idea of having him. He’s mine, and he’s staying mine.”

  Spencer drove up and, looking horrified to see the women together, pulled into his driveway and slammed the truck into Park.

  Lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, Arizona watched him cross the yard in a fast, long-legged stride. He wore a frown of concern. Sheesh. What did he think she’d do to his girlfriend?

  “Last chance to tell me what’s so special about him.” In bed.

  “That’s personal, so forget it.”

  Knowing there’d be no more Q & A, Arizona said to Marla, “Spoilsport.” And then she waited for Spencer to reach them.

  * * *

  WHILE ARIZONA ACTED as if nothing had happened, Spencer continued to stew. He didn’t know if she truly lacked all social graces, or if she enjoyed pushing his buttons in any and every way possible.

  There’d be hell to pay with Marla. She’d already started to get clingy, and now, seeing Arizona as a direct threat, she’d probably double her efforts.

  Just what he didn’t need.

  Since losing his wife three years ago, he’d occasionally given in to his baser urges. He was a grown man, and between long bouts of celibacy, he needed relief.

  He didn’t fault himself for that.

  But giving in to Marla had been a huge mistake. Their close proximity as neighbors was sticky enough; the fact that she had marriage in her eyes should have been the clincher.

  Unfortunately, a few months after she’d moved in, she’d caught him at a weak moment, a moment he regretted, and after that…well, he’d slept with her a total of three times.

  Idiotic. And regrettable.

  But that was all before meeting Arizona, and since meeting her… No, he hadn’t wanted Marla.

  Straddling a chair, Arizona watched him intently as he went about cooking dinner. There was a new attentiveness to her gaze that hadn’t been there before. He didn’t understand it.

  He didn’t understand her.

  They hadn’t said much since he’d more or less dragged her inside—away from Marla—with rushed excuses. He felt her amusement, and it nettled him. He felt her curiosity, and that worried him more.

  “Food smells good.”

  Standing at the stove turning chops, Spencer glanced back at her. An olive branch? From Arizona? He wasn’t fool enough to reject it.

  “Thanks. We would have had steaks on the grill, but—”

  “You didn’t want Marla to see us together.” Arizona grinned. “I get it.” She lifted her hand as if shooting a gun. “The lady’s got you in her sights and she’s taking aim.”

  The microwave dinged, so he took out the potatoes. “Marla misunderstands the situation.”

  “Nah, I don’t think so. She knows you’re not hooked yet, or she wouldn’t be so insecure about things.” Snorting, Arizona added, “I can’t believe you told her we slept together.”

  His neck stiffened. “It was as good an excuse as any.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But now she knows better.”

  Going still, Spencer swallowed a groan. “You told her?” Marla would likely ramp up her efforts if she knew the truth.

  “Not really on purpose.” Arizona’s gaze was so intent, it burned him.

  He split the potatoes and dropped in butter. He almost hated to ask, but… “How does that conversation accidentally happen?”

  “When she found out I wasn’t going all she-devil over the idea of you boinking her, she said she knew.” Nonchalantly, Arizona added, “Something about you being such a stud-muffin in the sack that if I’d ever had a taste of what you have to offer, I’d be fighting tooth and nail to keep it all to myself.”

  Heat crawled up his neck. “That’s baloney.”

  “Hey, she said it, not me. I was notably skeptical.”

  Figured. “Questioned my prowess, huh?”

  “She didn’t really mention your, er, prowess. She just said you’re well hung.”

  He damn near dropped the plate of potatoes. Slowly, he turned his head to stare at her.

  Unfazed, Arizona asked, “Wouldn’t that just make things more unpleasant?”

  Oh, God. No way was he prepared for this conversation. Later, maybe. After he’d had time to formulate what to say, how to reassure her. How to approach the conversation in a detached, casual… Who was he kidding?

  He couldn’t discuss the size of his junk with her. Not ever.

  He cleared his throat and turned back to his food prep. “Just like women, to stand around gossiping.” He could only imagine Marla’s reaction to Arizona and her uncensored ways.

  “You know, I asked her for specifics, but she wouldn’t share.”

  He jerked around to face her again. “You asked Marla for details about me in bed with her?”

  Arizona shrugged. “She made me curious with all her moony-eyed, drooling enthusiasm.”

  Curious was…maybe good. Better than fear. He considered her candor, her ease in talking to him about such private things. That had to be a sign of trust, didn’t it?

  Brightening, Arizona said, “You’re thinking of telling me?”

  He shook his head. No, he wouldn’t tell her a thing—not yet anyway. “Maybe later.”

  “Why wait?”

  He turned off the stove. “Dinner is almost ready.”

  She frowned but said, “Good, because I’m starved.”


  Thank God for the safer subject. “When did you last eat?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Never the expected answer from Arizona. One day he’d get used to that. If he knew her long enough, which was doubtful. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “I had a candy bar around lunchtime.”

  “Nothing since then?”

  She shook her head.

  “What’d you have for breakfast?”

  “Coffee with you.”

  His head started to pound. “Dinner the night before?”

  She thought about it, then shook her head again.

  Frustration edged in. “Why would you not eat?”

  “I just forget sometimes.” She left her chair and approached the stove. “Can I do anything to help get the show on the road here? My stomach is growling.”

  While she sniffed the pork chops, Spencer looked at the top of her head, at the shiny dark hair, the crooked part. Everything about her seemed endearing.

  If a hedgehog could be endearing. “You can set the table if you want.”

  “Sure thing.” Bumping him with her hip, she grinned and said, “A proper place setting is one of the things I learned in the school that Jackson sent me to. But I’m guessing you’re more into informality, right?”

  “Casual works for me.” After first meeting Arizona, he’d tried to look up her background but found very little. He assumed Jackson was responsible for keeping her off the grid; it was how that elite trio worked. The less info out there, the better they liked it.

  It fascinated Spencer, watching Arizona move around his kitchen, seeing her go on tiptoe to reach into cabinets. She’d again left her sneakers by the front door, and her bare feet were narrow, cute. Slender hands, small wrists.

  So fundamentally female—but such a live wire and always unpredictable.

  Hoping to sound cavalier, he said, “Tell me about the school.”

  With no sign of offense, she said, “It was this exclusive all-girl finishing school. Real hoity-toity.” She flashed him another grin. “Not exactly my speed, but Jackson paid through the nose, so they were always nice.”

  Spencer stared at her. Good God, they still had those? “You’re serious?”

  “Sure.” Carrying two plates to the table, Arizona said, “I mean, no one looking for me would have thought to find me there, right?”

  “I can’t imagine finding any young lady there.” But Arizona? In a structured routine meant to stuff societal rules down her throat? “What was it like?”

  “Just an education, and a few classes on things like—” She swept her hand over the table. “Etiquette. Not that this setting really counts, but you get my drift.”

  “You went along with that?”

  “Why not? The idea was sort of twofold. I figured I could learn how to blend in, and though he didn’t say it, Jackson figured he’d have me locked down and out of trouble.” She shook her head with some fond memory. “Jackson can be a real card.”

  Jackson had his sympathy. Teasing, Spencer asked, “Were you getting into trouble even then?”

  She paused, made a face. “I think mostly he wanted me out of his apartment because I came on to him.”

  Flattened, Spencer stood there, mute.

  Arizona glanced at him. “Dumb, huh?”

  “I never…” He shook himself. “You…?”

  “Snap out of it, Spence. Sheesh, I didn’t expect you to get all tongue-tied over sex.”

  “Sex?” Had she slept with Jackson then? A red haze gathered in his vision. That son of a—

  “Keep up, will you?” She rolled her eyes. “I offered, Jackson refused, and then he was different. Maybe uncomfortable. How should I know?”

  “He refused?”

  Sighing, a little dreamy, Arizona said softly, “Yeah, he did.”

  Suddenly he understood. “You thought to repay him, didn’t you?”

  “No. Well…maybe.” She made a face. “Something like that, I guess. But Jackson had this heart-to-heart with me, and he was…kind.”

  So kind that he’d packed her off to a stuffy school where she wouldn’t fit in? “Yeah, he’s a prince.”

  “I know.” Still wearing that small smile, she said, “I suggested going to a school, but I didn’t expect that school. I just wanted to not be dumb, you know? But we talked about it, and I liked the idea.” She flashed him a look. “I had no idea it’d cost so much, though.”

  “Jackson paid for it all?”

  “Yeah. Insane, huh?” Going back to the cabinets for tableware, she said, “The way that guy blows money—”

  “Think of it as an investment in your future.” If he hadn’t met Jackson, if he didn’t know him as an honorable man in love with a different woman, Spencer might have been a little jealous. Not that he had the right. Not that he even wanted to think along those lines.

  But knowing that Arizona had once offered herself to the other man, he couldn’t deny the twinge of resentment. Jackson had done the right thing in turning her down.

  And when the time came, he would do the right thing, too. He would do what was best for her.

  “That’s almost exactly what Jackson said.”

  After stirring the steamed vegetables one more time, Spencer put them in a bowl and carried them to the table. He dropped a potato and one chop on Arizona’s plate, then his own.

  He had a lot more questions, but he also wanted to feed her. “What would you like to drink?”

  “Milk would be good.”

  Why that surprised him, he couldn’t say. “Milk it is.” As he filled her glass, he asked, “So you liked the school?”

  “It was okay.” She wrinkled her nose. “Except that they tattled a lot. Their loyalty was to Jackson. I mean, he paid, so that makes sense. But still, I couldn’t even dodge out for a day or two without them telling him.”

  Keeping himself in check, Spencer asked, “Why did you dodge out?”

  “I get restless.” She eyed her food with significance.

  He joined her at the table with a glass of iced tea. “Go ahead. Dig in.”

  She surprised him again by showing impeccable manners. She put her napkin in her lap, cut a small piece of her pork chop, chewed quietly.

  He took great pleasure in watching her. “Good?”

  “Mmm. Delicious.” Her bright gaze went over him. “Sex, cooking, kicking as—er, butt. Is there anything you aren’t good at?”

  “Good catch.” She’d almost cursed—and then she would have owed him that kiss. Refusing to acknowledge his disappointment, Spencer forked up a big bite of buttered baked potato. “Don’t take Marla’s word on the sex. As for kicking butt, I can hold my own, but I’ve gotten my fair share of bruises.”

  “And modest, too.” She finished another bite. “Why shouldn’t I take Marla’s word?”

  “You said it yourself, she has me in her sights. Wouldn’t do her much good to insult me, now, would it?”

  “I guess not. But it was more than that. She made it sound like you were something special. Something more than—”

  “So…” Finding it prudent to interrupt, Spencer asked, “What did you mean by blending in?”

  She stalled, then her slender shoulder rolled. “What did I know of polite society? Even before I got caught up with the traffickers, my family was not what you’d call normal.”

  “What would you call them?” he asked gently.

  “Hmm. Well, my momma was mostly okay, I guess, except that she drank too often, and she put up with daddy and his cronies. And I can’t tell you much about my dad since I can’t curse.” She grinned. “Let’s just say he wouldn’t win any awards for father of the year.”

  �
��That leaves open a whole lot of possibilities.”

  “Yeah, well, figure the worst, and that was my father.” She lifted her glass of milk in salute.

  The worst was…awful. But then, he’d already guessed as much.

  She didn’t give him time to sympathize. “After the traffickers had me, well, you know how it goes. You get the bare minimum of everything.”

  Minimum care, shelter…and food. His heart hurt. “No milk?”

  “Not unless a customer gave it to me. And then I always figured it might be drugged or something. There was no real contact with the outside world except during a deal, so I had no way of staying up on current affairs. In other words, I was dumber than a rock, uneducated, uncouth… Even you noticed the way I talk, right?”

  Guilt swamped him. The last thing she needed from him was criticism. “I know you choose to be coarse, honey. It’s not that you don’t know any other way.”

  “Because Jackson sent me to that school. End of story.”

  But it wasn’t and he knew it. “You are far from dumb.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?”

  Because she had her last bite of food in her mouth, she just nodded.

  He wanted to ask her if she’d finished the school, if she’d gotten a degree, but he feared the answer. When the opportunity presented itself, he’d ask Jackson. “All done?”

  She sat back in her seat with a sigh. “That was great. Thanks. I can’t remember the last time anyone cooked for me. Maybe Jackson, but that would have been before the school.”

  “Your mother cooked?”

  She laughed but cut it off real quick. “Not really, no.”

  Pushing his plate aside and crossing his arms on the table, Spencer asked the question burning in his mind. “How did the traffickers get you?”

  “You really want to hear this?”

  More than anything, he wanted her to trust him. He had to think that confiding in someone else would help ease the pain she carried inside. “If you don’t mind telling me.”

  “It’s not like it’s a secret. Well, I mean it is, to most people. But not to anyone who already knows me and what I do, and that I was…”