Causing Havoc (30 page)

While Dean waited for Eve to answer the door, he suffered a smidge of guilt. He didn't like it. Guilt

didn't set right with him. He always tried to do what he considered right, and then he let it go.

But this time, how could he?

As if Cam didn't have enough on her plate, he'd contributed to her uncertainty, al owing her to think

he'd leave as suddenly as he'd arrived. Hel , he kept thinking of reasons not to go at al .. . . But he

would.

Eventual y.

Cam also had additional worry for Jacki because her job—a job she'd taken thanks to him—wasn't

the best. And Gregor, a man Dean liked but also knew to be a first class womanizer, had set his

sights on Jacki.

Great job, brother. So far he was batting a big fat zero. The wonder of it was that Cam hadn't told

him to get lost.

Again.

Thinking that added to the sting of anger he felt toward Lorna. She'd kept many things from his

sisters, important things that they had a right to know. But tel ing them wouldn't be easy, on him or

them.

Not that it was his duty to set things straight.

But it was his
right
to do so, to explain everything to the ful est. When he'd first decided to return to Harmony, he'd planned to explain that and more.

Then he'd met his sisters. His plans no longer felt right.
He
didn't feel right.

With everything else came an instinctive dislike of Roger that constantly churned Dean's thoughts.

He didn't like Roger. He didn't trust him. The man was up to something; Dean didn't know what, but he

rarely ever ignored his gut reactions.

Somehow he had to figure out how Roger fit into the scheme of things and what he could get out of

making Cam dependent on him. Because that's what he'd done. He'd helped her, not enough to get

her entirely out of debt but just enough to make her need him. Maybe trust him.

Impatient, Dean again rapped his fist on Eve's door and final y it opened. Half asleep, Eve eyed him,

halfheartedly beckoned him in, and then turned away. Her hair hung in a high, loose ponytail. She

wore a footbal jersey two sizes too large—and apparently nothing else.

Wel , maybe panties. He couldn't be sure. But definitely not shorts. And definitely not a bra.

Spel bound, Dean stood in the doorway and watched as F.ve dragged back to the couch to more or

less col apse on it. As she stretched out, he saw a flash of panties sexy enough to tempt a saint.

Nice. Very, very nice.

A noise on the television drew him out of his fascinated study of her soft, sleepy body. He knew

those familiar sounds of grunts and blows, the excited voice of the commentator, the cheers of the

crowd.

Holding a paper sack in one hand, Dean stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind him. He

clicked the lock into place. "You got some SBC tapes?"

"Mark brought them over. He stayed to watch two of them with me, to make sure I understood, then

he left." She kept her eyes on the television screen. "You just missed him."

Thank God for smal favors. "How many tapes did he bring?"

"A lot." She waved a hand toward a stack of ten or twelve DVDs sitting on the shelf beside the

television. "On the other tapes, I skipped al the fights except yours. For this one I started at the beginning so I've been through the weight classes. Your fight's only been going a few minutes." With

one arm folded beneath her cheek, Eve curled onto her side and drew her knees up. "This has been

a great distraction. Your muscles look even bigger when you're fighting. Not that there's much fight.

You either knock people out or take them to the ground and twist their limbs until they tap out. Neither

of your other fights lasted past the first round. It's al rather . . . riveting."

"More blood flow." Dean strol ed in and glanced at the TV. "Muscles always pump up during a fight."

She winced. "Good God. What is that man trying to do to your arm?"

"It's cal ed a Kimura." Blindly, his attention on the fight, Dean seated himself near her feet. Without speaking, Eve drew her legs up more to make room for him. "Basical y it's a bent arm lock that goes

against the shoulder."

"Why don't you tap?"

"He doesn't have good leverage for it. If he was a little more practiced, he'd know it and change his position."

She covered her eyes. "I can't watch."

Dean just smiled. A second later, when the crowd roared, Eve uncovered her eyes and then slowly

straightened in her seat.

"What happened? How'd you get on top of him?"

"I told you, I'm good." Dean sat back, and instead of watching the screen, he watched Eve. "Now I'm in what's cal ed the mounted position—which is a good place to be. I can hit him, and al he can do is

try to avoid the blows. He can't real y hit me back, or at least, not with much force."

When blood sprayed from the other man's nose, Eve gasped. "Your other rights weren't this brutal."

"It's cal ed ground and pound. A good way to take al the steam out of an opponent." The color left her face, so he soothed her, saying, "Don't worry. The ref is about to stop it." He patted her leg, liked the feel of her warm silky skin, and ran his palm up to her thigh.

Though she seemed to pay him no attention, her toes curled.

Enough of that, Dean decided, or he'd forget that this night didn't include sexual satisfaction. "I'l be right back."

Eve didn't answer. The wrap up to the fight held al her attention.

Pleased with her, Dean carried his paper sack into the kitchen. In the cabinets above the sink, he

found a bowl. Hoping that she liked his surprise, he opened the carton of ice cream and dished out

two big scoops.

As he walked back into the family room, the DVD ended and Eve turned off the set. "There are

always so many famous people there."

"In the audience, you mean?"

"Yeah." She looked stunned. "TV and movie stars, models, athletes."

"It's a popular sport." Dean sat beside her again and, with a flourish, held out the bowl. "Here you go."

Pul ing back, Eve stared at the treat. For the longest time she said nothing. Then she whispered,

"Amaretto Cheesecake?"

"Yep. There's a whole carton in the freezer if you want more."

Stil she didn't take the bowl. "How did you know?"

"Cam told me."

Her gaze lifted to his. "You talked to her about us?"

"I told her you were having your period so my night was ruined, but I didn't want yours ruined, too. I asked her if she knew of anything special I could get you."

Her eyes flared. "Oh, that's just freakin' great." She snatched the bowl out of his hand and scooped up a heaping spoonful. "So now your sister knows we're fooling around. When I barely know you. I

can't imagine what she thinks."

Dean laughed. "I was just teasing you."

Mouth ful , Eve mumbled, "Oh."

"I told her I wanted to bring you dinner, and she said you'd probably rather have the ice cream,"

"Cam knows me so wel ." As she spoke, she spooned up another heaping bite. "Odds are that she knows we've slept together. I never could keep anything from her." She shoveled in the bite, and her

eyes closed in bliss. "Mmmmm. Thank you."

The look on her face as she savored the flavor fil ed Dean with satisfaction. Voice softened by

pleasure, he said, "I'm glad you like it."

She offered the next bite to him, but Dean shook his head. "I'm good."

"You have no idea what you're missing."

Yeah, he did. But for Eve, he'd miss it in silence. He lifted her feet into his lap and examined her

toes. She had narrow feet, finely arched, soft and smooth. To keep her toenails painted such a

perfect pink, she had to get regular pedicures.

Eve Lavon would be very high maintenance.

Dean had already noticed her love of high quality clothes, and not once had he seen her in the same

pair of shoes. Whether she dressed up or went casual, everything on her coordinated. From her

earrings to her lip gloss, her hairstyle to her perfume, she planned every detail. Even now, in a

footbal jersey, she looked pul ed together and sexy. The red lace on her panties matched the red on

her jersey.

In no time, the ice cream bowl was almost empty. Dean watched her lick the spoon, and asked,

"More?"

"Not just yet. Maybe later."

"Al right." He could feel her tension, so he rubbed the arches of her feet, stretched out the tendons, worked her ankles.

On a heartfelt groan, Eve tipped back her head and closed her eyes. "You're turning me into a

hedonist." One eye opened. "Is there anything you're not good at?"

As he worked his thumbs down the insides of her feet, Dean watched her toes curl again. "Probably

a lot of things."

"Like?"

He shrugged. "I don't think I'm very good at dealing with sisters."

Both eyes opened. "Oh?" Eve sat up a little more. "Why's that?"

"They're not what I expected."

"You didn't expect nice?"

No, he hadn't. In his mind, he'd built them up to be selfish and self-serving—as if they'd had a hand in

booting out a nine-year-old-boy. He'd anticipated meeting two pampered, privileged women who he'd

find disinteresting and obnoxious.

Instead they were sweet and kind, loving and likable.

Everything sisters should be.

That al sounded melodramatic enough for poetry, so Dean kept the thoughts to himself and instead,

he said, "I'm buying Jacki a car."

Eve's spoon fel out of her hand and hit the bowl with a clatter. Shock widened her eyes and left her

soft lips parted. She gulped. "You're buying her a
car?
"

Dean shook his head with impatience. "Not a new car and not anything fancy. Actual y she might

refuse to drive it."

"No," Eve said. "She won't. She'l be thril ed."

He hoped so. "It's a little Escort four speed. An economy car. It's basic, but solid. It doesn't even have automatic windows." And in his defense, Dean added, "She needs her own transportation, damn it, her own independence, and—"

"Dean."
Eve sniveled, her lips trembled, and she covered her face to muffle a sob.

Taken aback, Dean stared at her and realized she was actual y ready to cry over it. Looking toward

the heavens, Dean fel back into the couch. "Why the hel do women always do that?"

"I'm on my period," she snapped tearful y. "That's why."

Using a baggy sleeve on the jersey, she wiped the tears off her cheeks. "If my emotional outbursts

bother you, then you can just leave."

"Why are you always trying to get rid of me?"

She shot back, "Why are you insulting me?"

Not about to retreat, Dean let out a long aggrieved sigh. "I didn't mean the crying, honey. That's just female." He took in her clumped lashes and red nose, then added, "And it's kind of cute."

"Cute?"
Her tear-damp face scrunched in anger. "Of al the sexist—"

To avoid an argument, Dean quickly interrupted. "I meant making a big deal out of nothing. The car

wasn't that expensive."

"It wasn't?"

"I stopped by the dealership on my way home." Dean felt sheepish—and that was an entirely new

sensation for him. "They were stil open."

"So . .." Eve dabbed at her eyes as she careful y picked her words. "You already bought the car?"

"I pick it up tomorrow."

More tears trickled out, and she dashed them away. "Does Jacki know yet?"

"No."

"Does Cam know?"

He shook his head.

"Uh oh." Swinging her feet out of his lap and to the floor, Eve sat up. After a second of deep

contemplation, she turned to him. "Cam won't like it, Dean."

"It has nothing to do with her. This is between Jacki and me."

"Jacki doesn't have car insurance. That is, I'm sure Cam has her insured as a part-time driver on

her car, but that's only—"

"I'l take care of it."

She stared at him, and her face started to crumple again.

"Oh for God's sake." Dean shot to his feet and paced away. "I'm a single man with very few

expenses. No kids or home or anything like that. Cam has enough on her plate. It's not a big deal for

me to help out a little."

"Buying a car
and
insuring it is not a 'little' help. It's an enormous contribution."

"Not from where I stand." Needing her to understand, Dean explained, "And don't think it has anything to do with being a big brother or any of that other cliched crap."

"No. nothing cliched about it." she agreed. "It has to do with you being a good guy."

Dean rol ed his eyes. "Knock it off. Eve."

She stared at him in near adoration. "I wish I wasn't on my period."

Surprised, he asked, "Why?"

"Because right now, you're almost irresistible."

That irritated him al over again. "Just because I bought a damn car—"

"Actual y it has little to do with the car, so don't get defensive." While appearing to mul things over, Eve smoothed the hem of the shirt over her knees. "It's not any one thing, Dean. It's the whole

package. The bod and the face, the attitude and confidence, your ability and your honor—"

Honor?
Of al the ...

"I want you, too. A lot." Dean had to stop her before she sainted him. Hel , if he wasn't immune to a blush, he'd be red faced for sure. "But I don't mind waiting until you're more comfortable."

With a wobbly smile, Eve reached out her hand to him.

The second Dean reseated himself, she crawled right into his lap and snuggled against his chest.

"I'm sorry I gave you a hard time earlier today."

"You're forgiven." "And I'm glad you insisted on coming over despite my grumpy mood."

"Me, too." Dean meant it. A lot of the unsettled worry he'd carried had dissipated while talking with Eve. "You realize that I didn't tel you about the car to seduce you or anything?"