by Lori Foster
“You’d be handy to have around then.”
Except that he never stayed long. Dean opened one eye to see Eve leaning over him. His heart thumped a little faster. “Are you inviting me to stick around?”
Her mouth twitching, Eve laid one hand over his bruised ribs and, though she didn’t realize it, his bruised heart.
“Actually, I was thinking of Cam and all the stuff that needs to be done on the house.”
He groaned. Damned frustrating woman.
“Seriously Dean, with you helping her on repairs, and Jacki contributing financially, she might be able to keep it.”
The sooner he got the issue of the house out of the way, the better Dean would like it. Closing his eyes again, he shut out the sight of Eve and her blind faith in his charitable goodness.
But his awareness of her remained. Not just the physical awareness, but also the idea of who and what she believed him to be.
Before he had time to think it over, Dean heard himself say, “I’ll get everything in working order.”
The words no sooner left his mouth than he wanted to take them back. He started to lower his arms, intent on sitting up and getting to work. But he’d barely moved when Eve’s mouth touched his, urging his eyes open again.
So close that he could see a few freckles on the bridge of her nose, Eve said, “You are one terrific man, Dean Conor. Do you know that?”
Infuriated more with himself than with her, Dean moved fast, catching Eve’s shoulders and turning to tuck her under him. He half covered her, pressing her into the thick lawn. “You’re delusional, Eve.”
“No.”
His jaw locked. “You don’t know shit about me.”
She put her hands at either side of his face and smiled with too much emotion. “You want to know what I think?”
For some reason, tension pulled at him. “Probably some idiotic romanticized nonsense.” When her confidence didn’t falter, he made a sound of disgust. “All right, go ahead and tell me.”
“I think you’re the one who doesn’t know shit about you.”
Her words sucked the breath right out of him. He opened his mouth to correct her—how, he didn’t know—and a squeal sounded behind him. Rolling off Eve and onto his feet in one agile move, Dean faced the intrusion, only to catch sight of Jacki hurrying to him.
“What now?” he muttered. The women of Harmony, Kentucky, were going to be the death of him.
“You got the car!” Grocery bags in both arms, Jacki rushed to him, her long legs eating up the distance in record time. An ear of corn bounced out of one bag, but Jacki didn’t stop to retrieve it.
“It’s awesome, Dean. Even better than the photo in the brochure. I love it.” Pleasure brought color to her cheeks and added an impish twinkle to her eyes. “I know you’re busy now, but you have to take me for a ride later.”
Dean shook his head in wonder. For God’s sake, it wasn’t an expensive car. Not even a particularly sporty car, especially when compared to what other SBC fighters drove. Gregor had parked his new Saleen Mustang convertible right behind the Sebring.
But maybe Jacki didn’t realize it was Gregor’s.
Or…maybe she did.
She stood in front of Dean, all smiles, several silver earrings in her left ear glinting in the sunshine. She wore her too-blond hair twisted up into some super-funky do, and her light brown eyes looked huge with all the dramatic makeup.
Like Eve, Jacki had dressed for the warm weather. A crop top left most of her midriff bare. Low-slung shorts put her tattoo on display. She wore cheap rubber flip-flops on her feet. She looked more like a teenager than a twenty-one-year-old woman.
Her animated chatter lightened Dean’s mood. “I figured you’d be sleeping the day away.”
Jacki rolled her eyes toward the house. “Yeah, I would have, except Goliath showed up bright and early.” Her gaze swung back to Dean, now full of accusation. “And speaking of Goliath—he said you invited him.”
“To help me with the roof.”
“That’s what he claimed. But c’mon, Dean. Why him?”
Fighting a laugh, Dean chucked her under the chin. “Because he’s big. It might surprise you what asphalt shingles weigh. Even the cheapest grades go around two hundred and twenty-five pounds per hundred square feet.” He looked up at the roof. “With two layers of roofing, and the size of this roof, I’d say all the old shingles should weigh in at more than six thousand pounds. That’s over three tons, hon. And I know you didn’t want me laboring on it all on my own.”
Jacki skipped her gaze over his chest. “Right, not when you already look annihilated.”
“I’m fine.”
“Fine, huh?” She rolled her eyes. “Even tough guys need time to heal, you know.”
Did she just scold him? “I wasn’t—”
She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, okay, so Gregor will come in handy.” She glanced toward the house again. “I suppose I can tolerate him for awhile.”
“Tolerate him. Torment him.” Dean caught her chin to bring her face around to him. “Get to know him. You’ll have a few days, so make the most of it.”
A flash of something, maybe gratitude, shown in her eyes before she ducked her head.
“Speak of the devil,” Eve said, and Dean looked up to find Gregor bearing down on them.
Still shirtless.
Which Jacki made obvious note of right away. She shoved the bags of groceries toward Dean, squared her shoulders, and met Gregor halfway.
CHAPTER 13
DETERMINED to set Gregor straight, Jacki charged up to him. He was all smiles, as if thrilled to see her. And his blasted gaze roamed everywhere it shouldn’t, lingering on her belly, studying her tattoo, sliding along the length of her legs. She felt scorched…until he zeroed in on her chest with extreme absorption.
What a joke. How dumb did he think she was? She barely had enough to see, much less enough to hold attention.
Quickly, Jacki crossed her arms over herself.
Gregor opened his mouth, and she said, “Don’t start.”
He went blank. With caution, he asked, “Start what?”
“With the ‘honey,’ ‘baby,’ ‘darlin’’ talk.” His brows bunched together in a “put out by her attitude” frown, but Jacki wouldn’t let him intimidate her. “If you actually want to get to know me, Gregor, fine.”
Relief lifted the scowl. “Now you’re talkin’.”
“But,” Jacki added in a hardened voice, “I will not be used as a pawn just so you can coerce Dean into fighting you.”
The scowl snapped right back into place, more fierce than ever. “Forget your damned brother, will ya? He’s got nothin’ to do with it.”
“Oh really?” Jacki imbued as much sarcasm in those two words as she could.
Slowly, deliberately, Gregor straightened to his full impressive height of six and a half feet. To make sure he wouldn’t be overheard, he stepped closer, leaving no more than a breath between them. And good thing, because when Jacki glanced around, she saw that no one was making any bones about eavesdropping.
Her sister, Eve, and Dean all stood there watching the spectacle they made. That was pretty distracting.
Until Gregor said, “I want you, you stubborn little twit.”
Twit! Jacki dropped her arms to prop her hands on her hips. “Is there any woman you don’t want?”
“Yeah.” His chest nearly bumped into her chin, he got so close. “Two of ’em are tryin’ their best to hear us right now.”
Oh. Chagrined, Jacki glanced at Eve, and got a smile. She looked at Cam, and felt her concern.
Knowing they needed to finish this in private, she said to Gregor, “C’mon,” and grabbed his thick wrist to drag him to the far side of the pool.
He went willingly, almost…anxiously.
Out of hearing range, Jacki stopped to square off with him. “Now, first off I don’t like being called a twit.”
“Then quit actin’ like one.”
“
I wasn’t.”
“Bullshit. I want you, and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with Havoc.” Arms at his sides, posture challenging, Gregor said, “If for some asinine reason you doubt me, you should dangle your gaze a little south, and you’ll see that you get me half-hard just by bitchin’ at me. Or it might have been grabbin’ my wrist. Or a combination of the two.”
Jacki’s eyes rounded—and stuck resolutely to his face. In a low whisper, she hissed, “Don’t get a jones now, for God’s sake. My sister will see.”
“I can’t help it.” His voice went all seductive. “You do that to me.”
She peeked, and wished she hadn’t. After a heartfelt moan, Jacki covered her face. “Okay, so you’re easily excited.”
“By you.” He looked too damn serious. “Hell, woman, you don’t think every skirt that flits by gets this reaction, do you? If they did, I’d never be able to fight, because the audience always has its fair share of females beggin’ for it.”
Great. Just the image she wanted. Packs of women fighting for his attention.
“If I got a boner every time I saw a sexy broad, I’d never get a cup to fit—”
“Stop.”
“All right,” he soothed, now that he’d gotten her to lose her temper. “But understand this, little girl—”
Her head snapped up at that idiotic bit of sweet talk. “I am not little.”
“Yeah, you are.” Cupping her face in his hands, Gregor smoothed his thumbs over her cheeks and waited until she tipped her head way back to meet his gaze.
And damned if she didn’t feel downright tiny.
It wasn’t an altogether comfortable feeling, yet it sparked a carnal awareness that had her breath coming faster and deeper.
Voice going gruff, Gregor murmured, “You’re small and fragile and hot. I can’t wait to get you naked.”
Oh, wow. The man had a way with words that could be very convincing.
“But understand this, darlin’.” He spoke over her when she started to protest. “I’m not a liar and I don’t take kindly to being called one. You want me to drop the endearments, fine. I’m not makin’ any promises because I am who I am, been that way for too many years to count. But for you, I’ll give it a shot.”
He made it sound like any effort on his part should be greatly appreciated. Jacki had no doubt that few women would ask him to change much. “Gee, thanks.”
“But only if you stop accusin’ me of things I haven’t done. Like usin’ you.”
“So coming on to me has nothing at all to do with Dean?”
“Not a thing. Trust me, I’ll get Havoc on the mat one way or another. He can’t hold out forever, and if I have to work my way up through the ranks, breakin’ heads left and right, that’s what I’ll do.”
Jacki laughed. “Yeah, I can believe you’re capable of that.”
“Damn right.” He bent to put his forehead to hers. “I’ll take a shortcut if I can get it, but not by chasin’ a gal who doesn’t do it for me.”
“So…I do it for you?”
His leer made her blush. “If you didn’t, why would I be here? There are plenty of other women waitin’ around to try me on for size, even here in backwater Harmony.”
Jacki rolled her eyes—but again, she believed him. She’d seen for herself how the women in the bar had all ogled him.
“But they didn’t grab me the way you did,” Gregor continued. “If we didn’t have that freakin’ audience strainin’ their ears to hear, I’d show you just how much you get to me. You see, darlin’, I’m proportionate in size all over, if you get my drift.”
She got his drift one hundred percent. Close as he stood, she couldn’t have missed it.
“It tends to make any sexual interest on my part a tad noticeable.” Discomfort replaced the leer. “As it is, I think I’m gonna need a dip in your pool to get things under control.”
Jacki swallowed back a moan of interest, and said calmly, “I think I can help you with that.”
Sexual heat flared in his dark gaze. His voice dropped lower still to an inflamed growl. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.” She laid both hands on Gregor’s bare, broad chest, doing her best to ignore the sleekness of his skin, the rock-solid muscle with no give at all, the touch of crisp hair. She drew a stuttering breath.
And shoved.
Gregor shouted a surprised curse, but he couldn’t stop the momentum. Arms and legs flailing in the air, he hit the icy water with an awesome splash.
Jacki heard her sister’s laugh, Eve’s gasp, and Dean’s muttered, “Uh-oh.”
When Gregor emerged, he used both hands to shove his shaggy dark hair away from his face. His lashes, now clumped together by the water, looked longer and thicker than ever.
Fighting off a chuckle, Jacki knelt by the edge of the pool and said in a sweet voice, “All better now?”
He wore a reciprocating grin. “Paybacks are hell, darlin’. And I always get even.”
For the first time in a long while, Jacki felt lighthearted and carefree enough to indulge in a real laugh. “You deserved it for calling me a twit.”
He tread water in the middle of the pool. “Is that what did it?”
“Yes. As for everything else you said…” Jacki hesitated, but what the hell? She liked Gregor. A lot.
So why did she suddenly feel shy, when everyone knew she didn’t have a shy bone in her body?
“I’m waitin’,” Gregor told her.
Jacki decided to go for it. “How about a movie tonight, after you finish working with Dean?”
Expression intent and filled with confidence, Gregor stroked his way toward her, reached the ledge, and held out a hand. “Deal.”
Knowing exactly what he’d do, Jacki backed away. “Oh, no you don’t.” She grinned. “Our agreement will have to be a verbal one.”
“Chicken,” he taunted.
She didn’t take the bait. “I’m not a fool, Gregor, and I’m not swimming until I’ve put on my suit.”
“So put it on.”
Jacki backed up another step. In her suit, it’d be more apparent than ever how few assets she had to offer.
Gregor watched her and mistook her hesitation. “Should I say please?”
“I’ll swim with you another time—once you show me that you can behave.”
He laughed, but the laughter stopped short as Jacki turned her back on him and strode away with a little extra swish in her stride.
She heard another splash and looked back to see Gregor had submerged himself again. Things were looking up. She had a job. She had the interest of a supreme hunk.
Now if only she could figure a way to keep the house.
TUNING out Lorna’s incessant droning on about Dean Conor’s intrusion into her life, Roger steered up to the curb in front of Cam’s home and put the car in park. He saw the new Sebring and the sporty Mustang and felt bone-deep satisfaction at his silver SL55 AMG Mercedes-Benz.
Growing up poor, in and out of foster homes, had made him very aware of appearances. These days he reeked of success in every way.
Yet it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough until he got everything he wanted, everything he damn well deserved.
In the worst ways imaginable, he’d been wronged. Yet the guilty people had never suffered the blame. They’d never taken accountability.
And that burned like acid inside him.
Because Cam hadn’t suffered the same hardships as him, she wasn’t into material things. But surely she would appreciate the difference in what he drove compared to what most men considered adequate transportation.
“Will you look at that,” Lorna snapped. “Now that boy is up on the roof, doing work that shouldn’t be done. And half-naked. He’s a complete embarrassment. How am I supposed to explain him?”
Her complaints drew Roger’s attention away from the cars to the top of the house. Sure enough, Dean stood there shirtless, sweating, bruised from one end to the other but not letting it slow him down.
“You should have told me about him sooner.” If Dean and Eve hooked up, Dean might decide that the town had enough to offer to be his home. If he stuck around long enough, he could ruin all of Roger’s plans.
That the bastard interfered with the house was hard enough to accept.
“I assumed Cam would tell you.” Intentionally offensive, Lorna added, “For an engaged couple, you two aren’t as close as I would hope.”
Snippy bitch. But Roger wouldn’t let her see how the observation cut him. “We’re not officially engaged yet, Lorna.” As Roger watched, Dean hefted a pile of shingles that had to be over a hundred pounds. Holding them as if they weighed nothing, he made his way to the edge of the roof and dropped them off the front of the house to a large metal Dumpster below.
“When will you get officially engaged, then?”
Roger had always prided himself on his strength and physique. After his football days had abruptly ended, he hadn’t gone to fat. He hadn’t lost himself in a bottle or drowned in self-pity.
He’d proved himself to be an incredible businessman, making money hand over fist.
But compared to Dean’s fighting fame, Roger’s life, his every hard-earned success, seemed about as exciting as watching fish swim.
And compared to Dean’s capability…well, there was no comparison. In a physical contest, the only way Roger could defend himself against Cam’s brother would be with a deadly weapon in hand.
“Roger?”
“I’m working on it,” he snapped.
“Work harder,” she snapped right back.
A second later, a towering shadow moved across the roof and another man came over the peak and into view. His jeans rode low on muscled hips, showing off a sculpted six-pack. A bandana around his forehead kept back longish black hair. Chest and shoulder muscles bulging, he toted his own massive load of shingles to drop into the Dumpster.
Roger stared in near awe. “Who the hell is that genetic freak?”
“What? Where?” Lorna squinted at the roof. “Why, I have no idea.” She dug in her purse for her eyeglasses, looked again, and her jowls dropped. “Good God.”
She sounded genuinely appalled.
“You don’t recognize him?” he asked.