A Perfect Storm

by Lori Foster

  And for once, his dreams weren’t of his wife. They were all about Arizona.

  And they were surprisingly pleasant.

  * * *

  ARIZONA HUMMED as she finished her shower. It wasn’t the thought of dressing in new clothes that lightened her mood. She detested outfits meant to draw attention, but she accepted it as a necessary means to an end. She needed to be noticed at the bar, and so she’d chosen clothes that would ensure it.

  So, no, it wasn’t the clothes; it was Spencer who made her feel…lighthearted. Weird. Rarely did she feel so worry-free, and never because of a man.

  Sure, she adored Jackson and probably always would. The poor guy had become her stand-in…everything. Big brother, best friend, comrade and semi-confidant. Jackson knew things about her that few others did, because he’d been there, witnessing it firsthand while risking his life to save hers.

  It made her hot with humiliation and soft with gratitude, every time she thought of it.

  Jackson had done so much for her—and she’d done nothing for him. She was a burden for him to bear. An added responsibility when he already had so many.

  The imbalance of their relationship left her indebted, defensive and heavy with guilt. She needed to repay Jackson for all he’d done.

  Someday, somehow, she would.

  But Spencer, yeah, Spencer felt more like a true partner. There was equality. She’d had a shitty nightmare, and that sucked. But she’d also seen the expression in his dark brown eyes as he’d shared his own nightmares.

  It was the sharing that made all the difference.

  Almost from the get-go, they’d connected. With any luck, they could unite further over their combined efforts to bring cretins to justice.

  True to her word, she’d been at Spencer’s kitchen table drinking coffee when he awoke. She’d been listening for him, wondering how late he’d sleep, anxious to see him, to talk to him, so of course she’d heard him the minute he’d left his bed.

  Probably thinking she had skipped out on him, he’d rushed down the hall and into the kitchen, where he’d drawn up short at the sight of her.

  With whiskers on his face and his hair mussed, wearing only boxers, he’d stared at her.

  And she’d seen his relief. Because he really wanted her there.

  Her heart did that strange tumbling thing again. The whiskers were appealing enough, but what that man did for a pair of boxers should have been illegal.

  He had such a great body. She’d noticed that more than once, and not in the admiring but analytical way that she’d noted the physiques of Jackson, Dare and Trace. Being strong, tall and fast, with great stamina and reflexes, they were built for enforcing their individual wills.

  Spencer was all of that, but he was also remarkable eye candy. Whenever he concentrated those dark bedroom eyes on her, she felt the strangest flutter in the pit of her stomach. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was disconcerting.

  And so, at the first opportunity, she’d left him.

  She felt a little guilty about it, too. But reminding herself that she had to keep her independence, that she had to prove her worth to one and all—especially to herself—had helped her to walk out while he showered.

  Watching for nosy creeps, she’d checked out of her old hotel, shopped for the clothes she’d wear tonight and a swimsuit for the trip to Dare’s, and then checked into a new hotel. She’d kept her phone out, certain that Spencer would call—but he hadn’t.

  Not yet anyway.

  She refused to be disappointed over that. He’d meet her tonight to help with her sting, and that’s what she needed the most.

  With her shower complete, her hair conditioned and her body softened by scented lotion, she wrapped one towel around her hair and another around her body. She’d just stepped out of the bathroom when her cell phone rang.

  Spencer.

  Refusing to dwell on the joyous racing of her heart, she took a deep, calming breath and lifted the phone. No doubt he’d be pissed that she fled while he showered. But arguing with him was almost as exhilarating as everything else they’d shared. She could hardly wait.

  Smiling with anticipation, she answered with a feigned and careless, “’Lo?”

  “You left me.”

  Her pulsed tripped at the low, oh-so-familiar timbre of his voice. She hadn’t left him. She’d just…left. Why did he make it sound so personal?

  “Just noticed that, huh? Man, Spence, you really are astute.”

  “You snuck out while I was in the shower.”

  Why wasn’t he blowing a gasket? She’d managed to get past his watchful eye, and that more or less proved she was better than him—right? That should have made him furious. Instead he sounded dark and mysterious and…she didn’t know.

  “I had some stuff to get done.” Then she reminded him, “But I was there when you woke up as promised, right? I even hung around for breakfast.”

  “Biding your time?”

  Annoyance straightened her shoulders and sharpened her tone. “I stuck to the letter of our deal—like you did when you talked to Trace, but not Jackson.”

  Nothing. No argument, no reply, not even a sound of frustration.

  His lack of response spoiled all her fun. On a sigh, Arizona gave up and said, “I had to go shopping so I’d have something appropriate to wear tonight.”

  “So it wasn’t just to get even with me for talking to Trace?”

  “No.” Well, maybe a little. “I needed to move locations, too, and…well, a girl’s got prep work to do before seducing the masses.”

  “I wanted you to stay.”

  Oh, wow. She heard his disappointment. And damn it, it ramped up her guilt a lot. “I told you I couldn’t do that.”

  “You and I are going to have a nice long talk about what you can and cannot do.”

  He sounded so certain of her agreement that she wanted to turn him down. But she needed to keep the peace so that he’d continue to work with her. “Okay. When?”

  “As soon as you let me in.”

  “Let you…” Control eroded under growing temper. “Where are you?”

  One firm rap sounded on her door. “Open up, honey.”

  Instead, she stepped back from the door. Voice cracking with outrage, she yelled, “What the hell, Spencer?”

  “I don’t want to draw attention out here. Are you going to open up or not?”

  She looked down at herself. The white towel barely protected her dubious modesty. “No, I am not.” He could damn well wait for her to dress. It’d do him good to cool his heels in the shabby lobby of the motel. “You had no right to come here—”

  “Have it your way.” He disconnected the call.

  Grrrrr. Furious—and disappointed that he’d given up so easily—she squeezed the phone, considered throwing it at the door, and decided instead to demand he come back and give her the battle she needed.

  She marched toward the door, but as she reached for the doorknob, she heard a scraping sound within the lock. She knew that sound.

  He was breaking in!

  Sheer surprise lifted her brows and obliterated her anger. She glanced around at the room, started to retreat once more—and the door swung open.

  Returning a steel pick and tension wrench to a small leather case, Spencer stepped in, used his heel to nudge the door shut again, and turned to face her.

  Her startled surprise was nothing compared to his.

  Finding her more naked than not, with nothing but a couple of towels covering her, he went on high alert. Except for his gaze going all over her, he didn’t move. When he finally got his attention up to her face, his eyes darkened. “Hey.”

  Hey? That’s all he had to say?

  Arizona forgot h
er state of undress. Well, no, really she didn’t. She just forgot how much she cared.

  Umbrage brought her storming up to him, and she poked him hard in the chest. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  He caught her finger and held on. “You thought you were the only one who could pick a lock?”

  She jerked free of his hold—and almost lost her towel. She secured the knot above her breasts and stepped back. More subdued now, she muttered, “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

  One eyebrow lifted—and he pushed away from the door to step toward her. “I told you I was good at tracking.”

  “You followed me, Spencer.” She didn’t understand his current mood. “That’s not at all the same thing.”

  Shrugging, he finally got his attention off her and scoped out her room instead. “Close enough.”

  When he eyed the laptop she’d set up on the small bedside table, she shoved it shut. She hadn’t been looking at anything private, but that wasn’t the point.

  Ignoring that, he lifted the T-shirt she’d discarded on the bed and then her bra.

  Arizona snatched both away from him. She was a tidy person and would have stored them away in her duffel once she’d gotten dressed in the new duds.

  Smiling slightly, he said, “I’m relieved that you’re a fast shopper. In and out in under twenty minutes. Admirable.”

  He’d been hot on her heels the whole time! She grabbed his arm, but didn’t have much luck turning him toward her. “You were in the shower! How did you even know I left?”

  Despite her hold, he went to the window—which meant she went to the window, too.

  He moved aside the curtain to look out. “You think I trusted you to stay put? No. I was listening for you. It’s odd, Arizona, but I can already read you.” He glanced first at her hand on his arm—until she dropped it—and then at her face. “I knew all along you were going to cut out. I saw it in your eyes.”

  She wanted to deny that, but too many times already he’d read her intent. The ramifications of that staggered her. “Oh, so I’m supposed to trust you, but not the other way around?”

  “Give me reason to trust you, and I will.” He strolled to a chair, disregarded it and moved to sit on the end of the bed.

  He eyed her, smiled and patted the mattress beside him.

  Arizona shook her head. She needed to get dressed before she got close to him again. Contrary to what he’d said, she did trust him, but that didn’t make her more comfortable while hiding under a towel.

  Spencer kept his gaze on her face. “You wanted to know what I did with Marla, what made her enjoy having sex with me?”

  Her eyes flared and her jaw loosened. He couldn’t be serious. But boy, he sure looked serious. “Uh…yeah.” She really wanted to know. The sad truth was that she’d thought about it way too much, when she had other things she should have been contemplating.

  “Then let’s talk.” He patted the space beside him again.

  She looked down at her mostly bared body, touched the towel on her head. “Okay, sure. Just give me a couple of minutes.” She turned toward the bathroom and her blow-dryer.

  Spencer sat forward and caught her hand. “Now.” He tugged her—since she didn’t really resist—down to sit close beside him.

  Her bare thigh pressed against the worn, soft denim covering his. She breathed in the scents clinging to his body, those of sun-warmed skin, aftershave and…earthy male.

  Struggling to keep the towel closed over her thighs, Arizona waffled. “You know…I really should get dressed first.”

  “This won’t take long.” He stared down at her thighs for so long that heat crawled over her, and her toes curled. It wasn’t at all an unpleasant sensation.

  She cleared her throat. “Okay. Shoot.”

  His gaze slid up to the notch of her thighs, then to her chest, shoulders, and finally he met her eyes. “I cued into her.”

  It had taken him so long to say that, Arizona had to shake her head to understand him. “What does that mean?”

  “A considerate man spends time on foreplay.”

  And he was considerate? Probably. “You mean kissing and groping and stuff.” She curled her lip. In her experience, that just dragged out the inevitable.

  “If that’s what she likes, yes. Lots of kissing, and lots of touching. Doing so gives me an opportunity to pick up reactions to various things. Judging by what a woman liked most, and least, I adjust.” He reached out, trailing the back of a knuckle over her cheek.

  Arizona froze, then inhaled sharply.

  “When I touch you like this,” Spencer murmured, “you get that certain look about you.”

  She’d been sinking under sensation, but now she slapped his hand away. “I do not have a look.” Except maybe a look of fear, which she fought hard to hide. Only with Spencer, she wasn’t afraid. Worried a little, maybe, mostly because of how he made her feel, not because of anything he might do. But there was no real fear.

  He smiled with understanding and negated her thoughts by saying, “That look tells me that you like it when I touch you, as long as I don’t push things too far.”

  Arizona thrust up her chin. “What’s the look? Describe it to me.”

  “Softer. Warmer.” He cupped a hand around her neck so that his fingertips played over her sensitive nape. “Definitely warmer.”

  She swallowed hard. “I thought we were talking about you and Marla.”

  He grew far too serious. “I know you’re unaware of it, but an honorable man doesn’t discuss the intimate details of his involvement with other women.”

  “You big fraud!” He’d had no plan to tell her—

  “But,” he said, moving his hand down to clasp her shoulder and forestall her angry rise from his side, “I can give you generalities.”

  She crossed her arms. That’d have to do. “Better make it good.”

  His mouth twitched into a crooked grin, but he stopped short of laughing at her. “A smart man learns to read women. Anyone can have sex, and I’m sure you know that men get off pretty easily.”

  That was…straightforward. Arizona eyed him askance. “Yeah, they do.” With some guys, just looking at a woman was enough. But with others…no. She didn’t want to think about that.

  For only a moment, Spencer looked pained. “Right. So, that being the case, the way for a man to make it more pleasurable is to make sure the woman enjoys herself, too.”

  “That matters to you?”

  “It matters to me very much.”

  Huh. She couldn’t imagine why, but she shrugged it off. “Most men don’t care—”

  He put a finger to her mouth. “Honestly, honey, you don’t know what most men care about because you haven’t known any real men, any good men.” His voice dropped, and he looked at her mouth. “At least, I assume you haven’t been intimate by choice, but I suppose you could have—”

  “No.” She shuddered at the thought.

  “There was no one before you were taken?” He studied her. “No one since, or maybe at some point during?”

  She snorted. “Before then, with my folks, it would’ve been one heck of a trick to pull off. During and after…” She looked away, saying again, “No.”

  He stroked a hand along her arm, up to her shoulder, and ended by cupping her chin. “Then trust me on this. Normal, healthy men love a woman’s excitement.”

  “How so?” She knew as little about a woman’s pleasure as she did of normal, healthy men.

  “The sounds a woman makes when she comes, how she tightens.” His voice deepened, turned raspy. “How she gets wet and hot and out of control…” He drew to a halt.

  He sure made it sound good. “Go on,” Arizona urged around the constrict
ion in her throat, her chest and her stomach.

  Spencer shook his head, his gaze intent on hers. “You understand my meaning.”

  Heat flushed his cheekbones, intriguing her.

  She leaned away to better gauge his expression. “You turning yourself on, Spence?”

  “A little.” He took a deep breath, let it out and became more strident. “Getting a woman to climax is a rush, and most men will work hard to see that it happens.”

  Hmm. “So are you saying that every woman you screw gets off like that?”

  After a long look, his abrupt laugh broke the tension. “You’re priceless, you know that?”

  No, she didn’t know. She’d always had a price, and it wasn’t all that much. “Avoiding the answer?”

  “Men will lie about their success with women. Most men, anyway.”

  “Even good men?”

  “Afraid so.” He gave her such a warm look of affection, she felt it everywhere. “Because it’s so important to ensure that a woman enjoys herself, too, no man wants to admit it if she left his bed unsatisfied. It’d be a major blow to the male ego. But since I promised you complete honesty, I’ll admit that on occasion, it’s happened to me.”

  Being theatrical, Arizona put a hand to her chest. “No!”

  “Not often since I’ve matured, and not for lack of trying on my part. But women are complex. Far more so than men.”

  “So even a woman you didn’t care about—”

  “I wouldn’t have sex with a woman I didn’t care about.”

  “Oh, baloney!” No way would she let him make that claim. “Men have casual sex all the time.”

  “As do women,” he agreed. “But there has to be an attraction, and that denotes at least some level of regard.”

  Given his demeanor, she felt like teasing him. “Never bought sex, huh?”

  “No, I haven’t. Certainly not from an underage girl.”

  “Don’t get your boxers in a bunch. I just made an observation.”

  His slight frown didn’t lift. “You do realize that there’s a big difference between a woman who chooses to prostitute herself, and a woman forced to do so?”