A Perfect Storm (31 page)

Her long, vibrating moan turned him on as much as her taste.

Licking his tongue over her, in her, he gave them both what they wanted. She grew wetter, her breathing more ragged. He teased her clitoris and heard her loud gasp.

Cupping her hips to help support her, he kept her upright and slowly drew her in, rasped his tongue over her, sucked.

In less than two minutes, she couldn’t hold back her escalating cries.

As she came, she called out his name. Spencer clenched his fingers on her luscious behind, holding her still, relishing her honest reactions and how quickly she came for him.

Not until she knotted her fingers in his hair again did he let up. He stood and lifted her in one smooth move, taking her to the bed and putting her on her back.

She quickened, but he said, “Shh. It’s okay,” and moved back for a condom before she could get too wired about their positioning.

Soon as he had that covered, he turned back to her and pulled her to the edge of the bed, her legs open around him.

She eyed him with uncertainty. “I’m not riding this time?”

He shook his head, words beyond him. Putting her ankles up to his shoulders, he bent his knees, guided himself into her, and pressed deep in one long, smooth, slick thrust.

She arched up. “Ah, God.”

“I know. It’s deep this way.” He locked his arms around her raised thighs, keeping her from retreating. She was already so wet, but still he worried. “I’m not hurting you?”

“No. No, it’s…” Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, and she groaned harshly. “Don’t you dare stop.”

“I won’t.” He pulled back, then hammered in again and again.

He watched the bounce of her lush breasts, the hollowing of her flat belly as she tightened her muscles, the way her face drew taut in harsh pleasure.

She grabbed fistfuls of the sheet to anchor herself and shouted, her back bowing as she already came again.

That was enough for Spencer. Hell, it was almost too much. He joined her with a guttural groan, and it was so mind-numbing, he barely had enough wits left to sprawl beside her, instead of over her.

But that was too much space between them, so he rid himself of the condom and pulled her over to his chest.

His whole body still buzzed, his brain at rest, when Arizona muttered, “I have to tell you, Spencer, that was way better than cake.”

* * *

M
ARLA
PACED
THE
YARD
, wondering if Arizona had spoken code with her “cake and coffee” nonsense. Were they having sex right now, while she waited on them?

Was Spencer, even at this moment, doing all those awesomely wonderful, carnal things to Arizona that he once did with her?

She hated herself for being so jealous.

Arizona, damn her, had surprised her with her willingness to help with the fallen tree. Who did that? What woman willingly put her man in contact with another woman who openly lusted for him?

But of course she knew: a confident woman.

A woman with no fear of losing the man.

Damn them both.

Things had been going along so nicely before Arizona had shown up. Okay, so Spencer had been clear that he didn’t want involvement.

He looked plenty involved with the little half-breed.

Marla bit her lip, guilty over the unkind thought. But how could she compete with Arizona’s exotic looks? The younger woman had that smooth as coffee with cream skin, silky dark hair, and sharply contrasting pale blue eyes.

And her body? God, she detested comparisons. She wasn’t a troll, and she knew it. She had generous curves that men enjoyed, she had no doubts about that.

But Arizona was sleek and strong and still very shapely as only the young could be. Not that Marla considered herself old at thirty. But standing next to Arizona aged her dramatically.

Why didn’t the little twit just go away? Spencer would come back to her then, she was sure of it.

And if he did…then what? She just didn’t know. But she disliked having her ego trampled, and that’s how she felt—trampled into the ground.

Wondering what took them so long, Marla walked across the yard—and the driver of a passing car, forced to slow around the debris, whistled at her with bold admiration.

Well. Very nice. That little tease went a long way toward soothing her self-esteem.

So she still had it? Of course she did.

She didn’t acknowledge the admirer, but she added a little swing to her step as she went to investigate the tree limb.

Then Spencer’s front door opened, and Arizona strolled out and the stupid driver almost hit a tree.

Furious, Marla heard the squealing breaks and glanced up long enough to witness the driver’s admiration. Arizona showed no interest. Spencer came out right behind her.

They were both smiling.

The car sat there a moment longer, the driver no doubt staring at Arizona, and then finally drove away. Face tight, eyes burning with animosity, Marla considered what to do.

Arizona approached. “I’m going to cut off the smaller branches. We’ll let Spencer do the heavy work. Sound like a plan?”

Knowing she couldn’t keep giving her the cold shoulder, Marla shook her head. “This was a bad idea. I’ve rethought it. Maybe I can hire someone—”

Arizona laughed.

Spencer said nothing. He just walked past them to his garage while pulling on thick gloves.

For only a brief moment the sun came out, sending a blinding reflection off every wet surface. Steam rose around them.

Marla lifted a hand to shield her eyes. With Spencer otherwise occupied, she shored up her courage and said to Arizona, “When are you leaving?”

As if the question didn’t throw her at all, Arizona said, “Not sure yet. Guess it depends on Spencer, you know?”

Such honesty floored Marla. She licked her lips. “So, when he asks you to go, you will?”

“He won’t have to ask,” Arizona assured her. “I don’t hang around where I’m not welcome.” Curious, she met Marla’s gaze. “My visit bothers you?”

Considering what Arizona said, Marla shook her head.

A visit.

Not
a permanent, move-in situation.

Hmm. Since Arizona sounded sincere, Marla thought she just might be able to advise her, to perhaps hurry her along on her way. She ventured forth carefully. “Spencer doesn’t want to settle down, you know.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Laughing, Arizona took a cloth-covered rubber band off her wrist and used it to tie back her hair. “He’s been as up front with me as he was with you.”

That left Marla floundering.

“You realize that he’s still in love with his deceased wife, right?” With her hair contained, Arizona put her hands on her hips. “He’s got some real issues with that. Even if I split, I’m not sure it’ll matter for you.”

Good God, did Arizona feel…sorry for her? Was she trying to prepare her for disappointment?

How dare she?

“I can help him get over the loss!”

“You think so? Well, I’ll concede the possibility,” Arizona told her with a flat smile. She studied Marla a moment longer. “Can you be trusted?”

“With what?”

“The context matters, huh?” Sardonic, Arizona waved a hand. “Never mind. Trust comes in layers. I get it. I just meant with Spencer, with having his best interests in mind.”

“Of course.” Especially since she believed Spencer’s best interests were also her own. “Why?”

“I need to know if you’ll be working tomorrow morning.”

Marla shook her head. “I’m off until midafternoon.”

“Okay.” Arizona thought about it a little more. “That might work, then. Thanks.”

“That’s it?” She wasn’t going to explain?

“For now, yeah. See, Spencer’s coming back, so we should wrap up this little chat. He wouldn’t like us gabbing about him. But honestly, Marla, when I do bounce—because I’m pretty sure that I’ll have to eventually, maybe even sooner than I’d hoped—I wish you luck with him. But only if you can make him happy.” She leaned in closer, her gaze direct, even threatening. “If you can’t, then stay the hell away from him. Got it?”

Marla leaned back from the intensity of Arizona’s stare—and she nodded.

And then Spencer was there, shoving oversize lawn bags toward Marla and giving Arizona a level look while handing her a bow saw. “Everything okay?”

“Just dandy.”

He watched her a few seconds more. “If you want to cut off the smaller branches at the top there, I’ll start on the other end.”

“Got it.”

“You know how to use that?”

She eyed the tool with a smirk. “Put it to the branch and…start sawing? Easy peasy.”

Spencer shook his head. “Don’t give yourself blisters, okay?”

Irate over their intimate chitchat, Marla loudly shook out a bag. “Shouldn’t we get started?”

“We should,” Arizona agreed, and she walked away from Spencer—leaving Marla there with him.

The humidity was such that already his shirt stuck to his wide chest and broad shoulders. “Thank you for doing this.” The big branch trembled as Arizona began sawing away.

“No problem.” He surveyed the branch, which was more like a small tree. “I just hope we can get it all done before we need to take off.”

As he went to the largest section of the branch and knelt down to prime the chain saw, Marla followed him.

“She’s a peculiar girl.”

“I’d say unique.” He dismissed her to pull on safety goggles.

Marla touched his shoulder to regain his attention, then couldn’t stop herself from rubbing her fingertips over the sensual feel of soft cotton covering solid muscles.

No one wore a T-shirt like Spencer. He was so deliciously big and solid and…hard.

Going still, Spencer glanced toward Arizona—who literally paid them no mind at all—then looked up. “What are you doing, Marla?”

He truly had no interest in her. None. Not a spec. He didn’t enjoy her attention now, not even to spur Arizona’s jealousy.

When she forced herself to be honest, she had to admit that he’d never been all that interested. Willing on occasion, sure, because she’d thrown herself at him every chance she got. But he’d never been in hot pursuit.

Mostly her success at getting into bed with him had been based on catching him at moments of weakness. Not that a man like him had any real weakness. But Arizona was right: he still loved his deceased wife—and she’d played on that.

God, that made her sound awful. Like an opportunist. Like a user.

Her pride saved her. She dropped her hand and lifted her chin. “I just wanted to ask if you put on sunscreen? The clouds are parting finally. It’s going to be a scorcher.”

He squinted up at the sun, then turned toward Arizona. “Do you need sunscreen?” he called over to her.

Arizona smirked and, without looking at them, said, “Not if you two stop playing around over there, so we can get done with this sooner rather than later.”

Ah. So she hadn’t been so oblivious after all. Marla forced a smile. “I’ll start picking up the debris.” She hated yard work, but she couldn’t very well ask for Spencer’s help, then go off to her air-conditioned living room.

Once the chain saw started, there was no more talking, and they made quick work of it. Arizona finished with the smaller branches and, beaded with sweat, went straight into helping Marla fill the bags.

Wilted, Marla used her wrist to brush her hair away from her face.

“I’m dying of thirst,” Arizona said. “You got anything cold to drink?”

“Colas or iced tea.”

“Iced tea sounds great. Why don’t I finish up here while you go get some glasses for everyone?”

Marla eyed the remaining work. “If that’s what you want.” She’d be thrilled for any reason to get out of the heat, even one fabricated by Arizona.

“Thanks. Take your time. We’re just about done here.” While Spencer stacked the wood in her side yard, Arizona went one further and found a rake to get up the rest of the mess. She even whistled while sweating, as if physical work in the hot sun was a pleasure.

So very peculiar.

And damn it, almost likable.
Almost.
More disturbed than ever, Marla went inside to fetch the tea. God willing, they would be done with all the dirty, heavy lifting before she returned.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

H
E
WOULD
NEVER
UNDERSTAND
HER
. She’d been too amicable at Marla’s, too accommodating, and it worried him. How could she go from jealous and uncertain one moment to supremely uncaring the next?

She couldn’t.

And that meant she was up to something, but what?

While driving, Spencer repeatedly glanced her way. Now that he’d had her, his fascination had grown instead of lessening. All the ways he’d touched her, he wanted to touch her again. And he had many questions, but they’d been in the truck for nearly an hour now, and she’d barely said two words.

Noting that she’d gotten too much sun on her nose, he felt a reluctant smile pull at his mouth. She looked cute—if a little female warrior with her devastatingly sensual looks could ever be called that.

Killer gorgeous, cocky, capable—and cute. Yes, the words all described Arizona.

When she looked at her palm, he asked, “Did you get blisters after all?”

“Maybe a few. I was enjoying it so much, I barely noticed.”

“Enjoying it?”

“Yeah. The fresh air, using my muscles, working up a sweat.” She peered up at him. “You have a house and yard and all that, so you’re probably used to it.”

But she had…none of that. Yes, he often took it for granted. “I see.” One day, he hoped she would take such things for granted, too.

He wondered what she would think of Jackson’s intended birthday gift. Would she love it, accepting it as something she desperately wanted, that Jackson could easily give?

Or would she balk at the extravagance?

“I take it you didn’t enjoy it, huh?”

Actually…he had. But mostly because she’d been with him. There’d been a certain peace in doing something so mundane, so
normal
with her.

Instead of answering, he reached for her hand, lifted it so he could see her palm. He shook his head at the sight of several blisters, then brought it to his mouth and kissed each one. “I shouldn’t have let you saw.”

“Let me? Get real, Spence. You couldn’t have stopped me.”

Grinning, he laced their fingers together and compared their hands. His engulfed hers, leaving her looking so fragile, when she was anything but. “I’m probably twice your size.”

“Yeah, so?” She winked at him. “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”

He divided his attention between watching the road and the surrounding area, and playing with Arizona. God, it had been so long since he’d played. “Make a fist for me. Let’s see how credible it is.”

She balled up her hand, then offered sweetly, “Want me to plant you a facer so you can judge my strength?”

That made him laugh. “No.”

“I wouldn’t anyway.” She opened her hand on his jaw, then stroked down to his neck, his shoulder, down his arm to drop her hand on his thigh. “If it came to it, I’d aim for your boys.” And she slid her hand up his inner thigh. “More likely to slow you down that way.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He remembered how, in the past when they’d first met, he’d avoided one such attack by her, only to get caught with the next. She’d laid him low with her deadly aim.

To keep from wrecking, he caught her hand and held it on his knee.

“And if you dodged that,” she continued, “well, then, I’d punch you in the throat. It’s way softer than a chin or jaw, and gagging, gasping men are a lot less trouble.”

Hating the thought of her ever again being in such a conflict, Spencer smoothed a thumb over her knuckles. “Any guy who knows how to fight would block that punch.”

“He could try.” Suddenly she said, “So if you’re done stewing, can I ask you something?”

Is that what she thought? That he’d been disgruntled in some way? “I wasn’t stewing.”

She snorted, making her disbelief plain.

“You do that a lot, you know? Make that obnoxious, rude noise. You may as well call me a liar.”

Smiling wickedly, she put her head back against the seat and, staring over at him, taunted quietly,
“Liar.”
Before he could get too riled over that, she half turned toward him. “You were stewing, Spence. Admit it.”

“You’re wrong. I was actually wondering about something.”

“What?”

“You first. You said you had a question for me. Shoot.”

“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. Admitting 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?”