by Lori Foster
“Okay.” She took her hand from his knee to his midsection. “How do you keep in such great shape?”
Her praise warmed him. He adored her body, so it was nice that she felt the same about his. Shrugging, he said, “I work out occasionally. I jog every couple of days. And without much leisure time, I stay more busy than not.”
“So…” She stretched the length of her seat belt to reach for him. “No time to get soft, huh?”
Spencer caught her hand so she couldn’t get too intimate. Even after all their sexual excess, it wouldn’t take much to get him primed again. He already felt twitchy, just thinking of how she had looked in his bed, how she reacted, the sounds she made…
And now, minuscule shorts, a scoop-necked tee and her high ponytail all worked to emphasize her body.
A body he’d touched, tasted.
Taken intimately.
He appreciated her interest now, but he wouldn’t take chances with her, not in any way. “Back in your own seat, honey. I want you buckled in right and tight.”
Her expression turned mulish. “You still treat me like a kid.”
That had to be a joke. “How can you say that with a straight face after the morning we had?”
She softened. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” She tipped her head. “We’ll do it again?”
Hell, yes. But because he never made assumptions about Arizona’s thoughts, he asked, “Did you want to?”
She studied the blisters on her palm again. “Well, the thing is, if everything is settled at the Green Goose, then…I probably don’t need to stay with you anymore, right?”
“Yes, you do.” Damn, he’d said that too fast. She watched him with curiosity—and so much more. He needed a plausible argument, a way to convince her without giving her ideas. “At least until Dare and Trace figure out if anyone else was behind the setup there. Until that happens, who knows if it’s safe?” That sounded more rational, and he let out a breath. “All right?”
“They have Terry Janes and his pathetic henchman, Carl, so it probably won’t take them long to file it away as a job well done.”
Not long enough. But how much time with Arizona would be enough? “Probably not.”
“Then I guess it’d be okay, and yeah, if we’re shacking up, even on a temporary basis, no reason not to reap the rewards, right?”
He grinned—with relief and with need. “Then definitely, we will.” But for how long? He couldn’t let her get so enmeshed in his life that she mistook things—more than she probably already did.
More than he was starting to, because damn it, he was beginning to hate the idea of letting her go.
“Back to staying in shape.” She stroked his biceps. “I think we should grapple sometime.”
Slanting a look her way, he took in her small bones, her slim frame and soft curves, and shook his head. “No.”
“C’mon, Spence. Think about it. While I’m staying with you, I have no way to practice, unless you practice with me.” And to further convince him, she said, “You don’t want my skills to get rusty, do you?”
He’d prefer that she have no need for deadly skills but didn’t think she’d be receptive to that preference. “You’d be comfortable grappling with me?”
“Sure. I was comfortable having sex with you, right?”
“You wore me out. I’d say more than comfortable.”
Happiness filled her smile. “I know. Crazy, huh?”
It shouldn’t have been crazy. He remembered again how amazed she’d seemed as she came, the sheer…wonder of it. And he’d given that to her.
It should have been enough for him, but with Arizona, nothing felt like enough.
“So what do you say?”
He shook his head. “No grappling.” It was too much to ask him to promote her violent tendencies. “But this leads into what I was thinking about—if you don’t want a guy on top of you, how do you fight?”
A little peeved that he’d turned her down, she said flatly, “I don’t let anyone get on top of me.”
As if she’d always have a choice in the matter. He shook his head again. “Is there anything else that still bothers you?”
Shrugging, she acted as if it didn’t matter, then said, “A few things.”
“Will you tell me?”
“I guess I should. I mean, staying with you and all, you’re bound to notice, right?” She sighed long and dramatically. “I’m not a fan of closed space. Like, maybe…your guest room? The one you keep trying to stuff me into?”
“I haven’t—” He shook his head. No, forget that. He’d offered her the use of the room, and she’d declined, that’s all. He hadn’t pushed her, because he’d had suspicions. But it didn’t matter now. “I don’t ever want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Great. Then can I just keep sharing your room? While I’m staying with you, I mean? Would you mind that?” And in a rush: “Not that I’ll be there all that long anyway.”
So where would she go? Another motel? He hated that thought. “Trust me, Arizona—having you in my bed won’t be a hardship.” Whenever he thought of how she’d been hurt, anger burned bright inside him. “Will you tell me why you dislike the room?”
“Seriously? You can’t figure it out?”
Yes, he had a good idea why enclosed rooms bothered her. But he wanted her to confide in him, to tell him everything rather than keeping it bottled up. “You were locked in rooms. Small rooms?”
“Yeah.” Despite the restriction of her seat belt, she drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them.
Spencer said nothing.
“I’d sit there alone, listening, never knowing what would happen or when. I’d hear people walk by outside in the hall. Or talk. I’d hear other girls taken, or people put into the rooms with them.”
Jesus, he wanted to… He drew a breath. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me, too.” She patted his shoulder. “Whenever I rent a motel room, it has to have windows that open—not only for an escape if I have to make a hasty exit, but so that I don’t feel trapped. I’ll leave the bathroom door open, too. Rooms that are just a…a box, give me the creeps.” She held silent a moment. “Nights are always the hardest for me. A lot of times, I’ll take a long drive, just to kill time. Sometimes I end up at a bar, sometimes I just troll the neighborhoods.”
Thank God she would be sleeping with him. He’d hear her if she tried to slip away. “Being in my bedroom doesn’t bother you like that?”
“No.” She studied him. “It’s strange, but I don’t think about most of that stuff when I’m with you.”
Her admission humbled him. “I’m glad.”
After that somber, sad exchange, Arizona turned to look out the window.
It was odd, but he already knew her well enough that he could read her and her moods, picking up on her thoughts and her worries.
They’d reach Dare’s soon, so better to get all said before that. “What else, honey?”
The seconds ticked by without her making a sound, and then finally, so quietly that he could barely hear her, she said, “I don’t want to swim.”
“What’s that?”
Anxiety brought her around to face him, and raised her voice. “I haven’t been in a freaking body of water since major a-holes did their best to drown me.” And with more venom: “I don’t want to swim.”
Of course she didn’t. He should have thought of that himself, but her easy acceptance of storms had thrown him off. “Then don’t. Everyone will understand—”
“No way.” She held up a hand to cut him off. “I don’t want anyone knowing that I’m too chicken to swim.”
Of course she didn’t. Arizona was the proudest, most independent woman he knew. Adm
itting to a fear or weakness would never sit right with her.
He held on to his frustration, and rather than explain to her that the others would understand, that they wouldn’t judge, he asked, “What can I do?”
She glared at him. “Did you bring trunks?”
“I’m afraid so.” It was supposed to be that type of gathering. Hot summer day, friends together on a lake…swimming was expected, even anticipated.
“Yeah, that’s what I figured, too. I wore a suit under my clothes, but even if I didn’t, I’m betting one of the other women would have a spare.”
And that would rob her of any good justification to forgo a dip in the murky water. “Want me to make up an excuse of some kind?” For Arizona, he’d think of something.
“No, but you can swim with me. And I mean with me. As in really close. As in don’t leave my side even for a second.”
He could do that. Hell, he’d enjoy it, as long as he knew she wasn’t suffering at all. “If that’s what you want, sure.”
She gave a roll of her eyes. “Do you think you can act like you want to be there, not like I’m forcing you?”
Would she ever understand her own appeal? Or for that matter, his strength? “You can’t force me, Arizona, so yeah, no problem. I was looking forward to swimming with you, anyway.”
“Great.” Her shoulders loosened a little. “But I guess we’ll never know if I could force you, since you won’t spar with me.”
“Arizona,” he warned.
She grinned. “So now you know the sum of my personal kryptonite. Small rooms and swimming. Pretty pathetic, huh?”
“I’d say admirable. Most people have things that scare them. Bugs, heights, fire, the dark. Hell, even the boogey man. And that’s just from life, from living, not from…” He cut himself short.
“What? You were going to say trauma or some melodramatic puke like that, weren’t you?”
Lying would be pointless. He wanted to give her honesty—as much as possible, whenever possible. “Probably, yes.”
“Well, you can put a lid on that right now. And while you’re at it, stow the sympathy, too. Don’t need it, don’t want it.”
“I’m afraid you have it anyway, along with anything else you want or need.”
She dropped her feet back to the floor and turned her shoulders toward him. “Sex,” she enunciated plainly. “I’ll take that.”
“Already done. Will be done again. No problem.”
A slow grin replaced her frown. “Thanks for being so agreeable, and for working around my…glitches.”
Is that how she categorized her fear of losing control? He thought of giving her new memories, maybe making love in the lake. It’d be tough, what with the dynamic trio lurking about, but maybe he could finesse it somehow.
Would she be agreeable? He broached the possibility by saying, “There are a lot of ways to have sex.”
“Don’t I know it. But somehow, no matter the way, the guy’s usually still controlling things.”
“Not always.”
Intrigued, she said, “Yeah? Interesting.” She looked him over. “So far, you’ve controlled things, but I barely noticed because I didn’t feel controlled.”
“How did you feel?”
She gave it a lot of thought. “A little wild, I guess. Like maybe I wasn’t me anymore. Like maybe all that really mattered was touching you and tasting you and having you do the same to me. I forgot about so many things because it was all so…”
“Consuming?” Damn, talking about it with her made him hot.
“Good word choice. Yep, that’s about it. Very consuming, but in a great way. Not like consuming fear or pain—just consuming pleasure.”
Every muscle in his body twitched. Every time she opened up to him, his heart felt trampled, and he wanted to get hold of the ones who’d hurt her.
Impossible, since they were long gone.
At the same time, he wanted to promise her that she’d have that pleasure, with him, for a very long time.
Also impossible.
He made a point of not looking at her. “It should always be that way, honey.” He gripped the wheel tighter and forced out the words, as much to remind himself as her. “Any guy you sleep with should be equally concerned with how you feel.”
* * *
ARIZONA FLINCHED at what he said.
Any guy she slept with.
Meaning he still wanted to fob her off on that nameless, faceless other dude.
The idea repulsed her. And it infuriated her.
But facts were facts: Spencer wanted to rehab her, and that’s all he really wanted. Oh, yeah, she knew it wasn’t a chore for him to sleep with her. She wasn’t a hag, and her hang-ups aside, she wasn’t too weird or obnoxious in bed.
But what she’d told Marla was true; he was still in love with his wife, and a woman like her would be only a temporary substitute—in bed. Nowhere else.
Nowhere that really mattered to his life or to his own personal issues.
She wished she could help him as he wanted to help her. Not that there was any real comparison. Spencer was one of the greatest, most awesome, incredible guys she knew.
And, Jesus, didn’t she sound like an infatuated sap?
Well, unlike Marla, she had pride galore. Pride had kept her going when others might have given up. She stared at Spencer for a long time, willing him to meet the accusation in her gaze, but he kept his attention on the road.
Screw it. She wouldn’t debate sleeping with other men, so instead she just said, “Good to know. I’ll try to remember that when I sleep with someone else.”
An interesting muscle clenched in his jaw, and his big hands—hands that could be so gentle and so hot when he touched her—squeezed the steering wheel.
Possessive. That’s what he was. She knew all about that because Jackson was the same. For as long as she slept with Spencer, he didn’t want her sleeping with anyone else. Not like he’d let her out of his sight long enough for her to go carousing anyway.
And that could be a problem, given she had to meet Quin tomorrow.
“So other guys are on the list,” she said, “but for tonight, soon as we can wrap up this nonsense at Dare’s—”
“Your birthday is not nonsense.”
“—I want to try out this control reversal you mentioned.”
He opened his mouth to further explain the importance of her birth celebration—and then her words registered.
Going silent, he clamped his mouth shut. New tension coursed through him—but this was tension of a very different kind.
All sexual—the fun kind of tension.
Grinning, Arizona watched him.
He pawed the steering wheel, his jaw flexing, and he flashed her a glance of heated comprehension. “You want to see how far you can push things?”
“With you,” she stressed, because whether he wanted to hear it or not, she didn’t want to roll with anyone else. “So…yeah, that’s what I want.”
Two slow, deep breaths expanded his chest. He tried for a cavalier shrug. “Okay, sure.”
She smirked. Of course he was agreeable about it; she hadn’t expected anything else. Men were so predictable.
To up the ante, she whispered, “How you kissed me, Spence? Where you kissed me? I want to kiss you like that, too.”
He cleared his throat. “You mean…?”
She nodded. “You on your back, hands to yourself, letting me make you nuts.” She tipped her head. “You think you’ll like my mouth on you?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation.
“You think you’ll be able to keep your hands to yourself?”
“I’ll try. But for now, let’s stow that, okay?�
�� Shifting in his seat, he adjusted his jeans. “We’re at Dare’s, and I don’t want to face them all with a boner.”
Her gaze dropped to his lap, and sure enough, she’d gotten him all stirred up. “Nice. I have skills with this, too, huh?”
Her boasting made him laugh. “I suppose you do. But around you, I’m pretty easy, so don’t let it go to your head.”
A nice confession. She’d enjoy taking control of him—later, after she survived this little celebration.
Ugh. She made a face and peered out the windshield at the heavily wooded area.
Regardless of her personal preferences, she had to admit that Dare had a terrific place. Uneasy, she said, “I can see the lake already.”
“And smell the air?” He took the window lower. “Fresh.”
“Everything smells green.” She filled her lungs and tried not to think about swimming.
As he pulled into the long drive leading to Dare’s impressive home, Spencer reached for her hand. “Try to relax, okay? Just forget about the lake for now—we’ll deal with that later. You’re here with friends, with people who care about you. Enjoy their attention, and yes, their gifts.”
She groaned. Gifts? “My birthday is over already. This is dumb.”
Understanding and, as usual, soothing her, Spencer lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Whatever happens today, honey, know that I’m right here with you, okay? You aren’t alone.”
Yeah, that helped. For now.
Today.
But she’d soon be all alone again—sooner than even Spencer suspected.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE SUN BLAZED AGAINST the pale blue sky without a single cloud in sight. A light breeze stirred the air, sending the surface of the lake into mesmerizing ripples that glinted like diamonds.
From swaying treetops, blackbirds swooped down to peck at insects. Chattering squirrels scurried around, gathering berries and nuts. A cicada chirped relentlessly.
Laughter, casual conversation and lots of love surrounded her. For most, it’d be the perfect day.
But, God, she felt like a fraud.