A Perfect Storm

“Really?” That got her intrigued. “So I was right? It’s a cover for a trafficking ring?”

“Most likely, but it’s too soon to know for sure, and it’s definitely too soon to tip our hand. The sting is still in preliminary research.” His voice lowered. “Put Spencer on the phone.”

“No.” Hell, no.

“Arizona…”

Her shoulders were so stiff, they ached. “I don’t need anyone to babysit me. I’m fine.”

“You’ll stay put?”

“Mmm…maybe.” It’d depend on what Spencer said and what he had planned. The men might be world-class protectors, but she knew she could look after herself.

Jackson sighed and then said, “Hang on, hon.”

Seconds later, Spencer’s cell phone rang. He grinned at her as he answered.

Un-freaking-believable.

And his phone wasn’t on speaker, so she could only hear one side of the conversation.

Spencer said, “Yeah, hey. Sure. That’s what I figured.” He nodded. “Do my best, that’s all I can promise. Yeah, okay. I would’ve done that anyway.”

Arizona thought her hair might stand on end. When Jackson came back, she growled, “Satisfied?”

“Getting there.” And in a lower voice, “Happy birthday, honey.”

Oh. Heat rushed up her neck. “Yeah, uh, thanks.”

“I promise I won’t forget again.”

She rolled her eyes. “Aren’t men supposed to forget that stuff?”

“No.”

Sheesh, did he have to sound so offended? “Look, don’t sweat it, okay? Spencer got a cake and everything.”

“Everything?” He didn’t even try to hide his amusement. “Well, I owe you a gift, and no, don’t argue. Alani will enjoy helping me pick it out. We’ll hook up soon, okay?”

Feeling desperate, she was quick to say, “Not necessary, Jackson. I know you’re busy with your wedding prep and—”

Again, he paid no attention to her protests. “We’ll invite Spencer. Dare said this weekend would work at his house. What do you think?”

Oh, Gawd! He’d cornered her. “Look, I don’t—”

“Great. Saturday at two. Bring a bathing suit and we’ll hang at the lake. Do it up picnic style. Sound good?” Before she could answer, he said, “So we’re all set. But now I need to go before my steak gets cold.”

She wanted to deny him and his weekend plans, but she didn’t want to keep him from his meal. “Okay, fine.” She was such a dolt. Somehow she’d find a way around things—especially the bathing suit part of it all. “Sorry for interrupting.”

“You didn’t.” There was a slight hesitation and then: “Love ya.”

Happiness filled her heart. She swallowed back a swell of emotion. Keeping her back to Spencer, she said, “Love you, too.”

After she pocketed the phone, she had no idea what to do. The moment was so awkward that she wanted to crawl off and hide.

Then Spencer said, “Told you so.”

His self-righteous tone brought her snapping around. “You told Trace!”

He shrugged that off. “But only Trace…so you owe me an apology.”

She opened her mouth to blast him…and then shut it again. Yeah, she did owe him. Grudgingly, she muttered, “Sorry.”

His hand touched her chin, lifted her face. “I won’t ever lie to you, Arizona.”

Not for a second would she believe that. “Everyone lies. Big lies, little lies. No one is honest all the time.”

“Including you?”

Especially her. She folded her arms under her breasts. “When necessary, I fudge things.”

“I won’t. Not with you.”

Feeling herself waffle, Arizona looked around, wondering what to do now. Humiliation rolled over her. She’d disrupted everyone with her plans, when she’d really only wanted to disrupt Spencer.

That truth made her frown at herself.

He thought the frown was directed at him. “I had to tell Trace. You’re smart, Arizona. You know that.”

“And you knew that Trace would tell Jackson.”

He crossed his arms, mimicking her stance. “You’re distorting the facts. Trace said he wouldn’t tell Jackson, and he didn’t. He told Dare. And Dare didn’t tell Jackson until you called up and spilled the beans. So exonerate me. I held to my end of the bargain—so far as I could, anyway.”

She shook her head in denial—but it was true. Somehow, deep down, she’d known he would alert the others. “Why do you guys have this sick need to protect misfits?”

“Is that it?” He put his big hands on her shoulders. He didn’t draw her closer, he just offered…support. “You’re concerned about what Trace will think?”

“I know what he thinks. That I’m pathetic and I need a keeper.”

He gave her a speculative look. “You’ve met Priss, Trace’s wife.”

“Yeah, so?” Priss was self-confident and funny, and Trace loved her a lot.

“Priss’s life wasn’t all roses, you know. Actually, no roses, just thorns.”

The boys had been talking, it seemed. Had Jackson told Spencer about Priss? Had he told him about Dare’s wife, Molly, too? “What’s your point?”

“I told Trace because we need backup if we’re going to do this—”

“We are.” He couldn’t change his mind on her now. She needed to stay busy, and she needed to feel as if she made a difference.

And…she kind of liked being around Spencer—but she wasn’t about to admit it to him.

“Trace understands what you’re going through.” He gave her a gentle shake. “You and Priss have a lot in common. And if you think he pities his wife, you haven’t seen the two of them together.”

“I’ve seen them.” While Jackson was easygoing—most of the time—Trace could be very heavy-handed. Yet Priss matched him in every way. Anyone could see that pity was the last thing Trace felt for Priss. “They make a nice couple.”

“Yes, they do.” His thumbs rubbed over her shoulders. “Fact is, you’re looking at this all wrong. You’re so busy defending your independence, and bearing that massive chip on your shoulder, that you’ve forgotten how it’s done.”

“It?”

“The whole undercover, covert, infiltration gig. You think Jackson ever approaches these situations alone? Or Trace or Dare? They always work as a team.”

For him to know that, they had to have done a lot of talking. Did Jackson really trust him so much? Apparently.

She raised her chin. “You don’t.”

“Until recently, I hadn’t tampered in their league. The busts I made as a bounty hunter were small beans in comparison to what they do. But now, with human trafficking rings that have reach across the country, even out of the country, you can bet your sweet little butt that I wouldn’t get in too deep without knowing someone else was on board, watching to make sure neither of us disappears.”

Because that all made sense, Arizona paced away—and immediately felt the loss of Spencer’s touch.

Standing where she’d left him in the middle of the floor, he waited.

She knew she’d relent. Heck, she didn’t even want to go. Not really. But she wasn’t quite ready to tell him that yet. “What did Jackson say to you?”

“He wanted me to follow you if you left, and to tail you all night if necessary.” When her eyes widened, he added, “And I would have. I will—if you don’t stay.”

Going to the window, Arizona watched the rain start to fall. If she was going to get her bag, she should do it now.

From right behind her, his tone compelling, Spencer said, “Stay.”

“You said you wouldn’t lie.”

“I won’t.”

“Okay, then…” Turning to face him, she asked in a rush, “If you’re not trying to have sex with me, then why are you doing all this? Why are you being so…concerned and caring, and protective and understanding and stuff?”

“All that?” A smile flickered over his mouth. “Okay, the truth. I want you to see a better way of things. I want you to be able to move on—”

Move on? “As in, be with some dude? Seriously?” The idea was so ludicrous, she laughed. “What, like in a marriage and all that? Not happening.”

“Doesn’t have to be marriage.” His gaze moved over her face to her mouth and then back to her eyes. “Could just be a date.”

“And you think dates are fun?”

He drew a short breath. “Most of the time, sure.”

“You’ve had dates with Marla?”

“Ah…no.”

“Just sex, huh?”

“Arizona…”

“And sex is fun?”

His gaze locked on hers. “Yes.”

“Will you tell me about it?”

Face muscles tightened as he flexed his jaw. “What do you want to know?”

So many things, she hardly knew where to begin. “Is it the same with Marla as it was with your wife?”

His eyes darkened with disbelief and, maybe, sadness. “If you mean are women interchangeable, no. Not to good men. Not when a man cares about a woman.”

That riled her. “So you care about Marla?”

“Not at all like I cared about my wife, no. But as a nice person, yes, of course I do.” Putting his hands on his hips, he dropped his head forward, then gave in to a short laugh. “God, this is an awkward conversation.”

She didn’t care. He offered to explain, and she wanted to hear it, so she waited.

After releasing a long breath, he met her gaze again. “I was up front with Marla. I didn’t lead her on. I haven’t led on any woman.”

Including her? His bet would curtail her language—but gain him a kiss if she slipped up. Was that really all he wanted? “So with Marla, it was sex, but only sex, huh?”

“It’s not always about love.”

“Boy, do I know that!”

“Sometimes,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “the pleasure is enough.”

“If you say so.” She had her doubts about any real pleasure, though. She sure hadn’t experienced it. “So how many women have there been?”

He made a sound of disgust. “They were few and far between. But I am a grown man, Arizona.”

So defensive. Sharp with derision, she said, “And you have needs?”

“Everyone has those needs—including you.” When she started to shake her head, he cut her off. “You do. And that brings us full circle. You know about abuse, but you don’t know anything about the real give-and-take that’s supposed to happen between the sheets.”

“Not always between the sheets.”

He paused. “No.” He took a step closer, then stopped himself. “There are all kinds of sexual encounters, in lots of different places.”

“And different positions?”

“Positions that you should enjoy.” He reached out, but instead of touching her, he pulled back and ended up rubbing the back of his neck. “Only it doesn’t start with sex.”

“No?”

“It starts with an attraction. A mutual attraction.”

“Can’t prove it by me.”

His gaze searched hers, his voice deepened. “I know. That’s my point.”

There was such gravity in his tone, she rolled her eyes. “Go on. Mutual attraction?” she prompted.

Slowly, he nodded. “Flirting, kissing, a touch or two. Foreplay for an hour, or a day. Wanted by both people, and shared by both people.”

That did sound sort of…not awful. “I know that’s how it’s supposed to be.” She wasn’t a total social misfit. She’d seen romantic movies, and she’d seen real life. People walking together, talking together. In sync.

In love.

But he’d just negated the link between love and sex, and she wasn’t sure she could ever trust in casual sex.

Almost as if he’d read her thoughts, he said softly, “It can be really good when both people are willing, eager participants.”

“And you think I need to experience that, huh?”

“You’re a healthy, energetic woman. I’d hate to see deliberate cruelty turn you off from knowing everything that nature intended.”

For reasons she wouldn’t analyze, his attitude irked her. “So let me get this straight. You want to do things to me, to get me all into the idea of screwing—and then you want me to go off to find some other guy to finalize the deal?” She smirked at him. “Know what, Spence? From my side of the table, that sort of makes you sound like a pimp. Only problem is, I can’t figure out what you get from the deal.”

CHAPTER SIX

WITH HER BREAKING DOWN his motives to the basest purpose, Spencer had to admit that it did sound bad. God knew he didn’t want to send her off to anyone else. The thought of another man touching her left him raw with anger.

But he wasn’t the man for her. Even if the age difference didn’t exist, she deserved someone who’d be involved for the long haul. She deserved someone with a sunny outlook on life.

Not only was he opposed to settling down again, he was about as far from optimistic as a man could get.

“I wasn’t trying to coerce you into having sex with anyone.” What he wanted most was for her to not be…damaged. But he sure as hell couldn’t say anything that stark to her. “What I’d really like is to break down those walls so you can let in people who care about you.” He tried a smile that she didn’t return. “All in all, you can be a pretty likable woman.”

With one hand flattened to his chest, she pushed him back a step and moved out from between him and the window. “Whatever. If I’m staying over, I want Trace to fix my car.”

The quick turnaround surprised him. “You’ll stay put?” With me.

She made a gesture of indifference. “For now.”

“Then I’ll let Trace know.” And they could all help keep an eye on her.

Her eyes narrowed. She hesitated, then she turned away. “I better go get my stuff.”

It’d take time to convince her of his motives. Spencer accepted that, so he allowed the change of topic. “What stuff?”

“My duffel and laptop case. I’m not as dumb as you and the big macho boys want to believe.” She opened the front door, and a heavy gust of wind carried a smattering of rain in around her. “Ho boy, look at those purple storm clouds blowing in.”

Spencer closed the door. He could see why she’d keep the laptop close. But the other? “You brought an overnight bag with you?”

“Yeah, see, I had no intention of going back to my motel room tonight.”

That surprised him, but he was pleased with her forethought, especially since she’d made the plans to protect herself, not someone else. He had a feeling that Arizona deliberately put herself at risk far too often.

Given the downpour, he caught her arm and moved her away. “I’ll get your things for you.”

“I don’t melt.”

Already rain dampened the front of her T-shirt and left her face dewy.

Physically, she was the most tempting woman he’d ever met. He didn’t want to test his resolve by seeing her in soaked clothes that would cling to her shapely little body.

But beyond that, he worried. The sky had darkened, and he felt the turbulence in the air. Soon the rain would be a full-fledged storm—just like the night she’d been bound and thrown into a river, a night she would have died…and been forgotten.

Suffused with emotion, he eased a damp tendril of hair away from her cheek. “It looks like the rain will turn into a storm.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than a flash of lightning cut across the darkening sky. Seconds later, thunder crashed down, rattling the windows.

Arizona smiled at his apprehension. “You think it’ll bother me, don’t you?”

He was afraid she’d be pulled into nightmarish memories. “Given what you went through, I’d understand if it did.”

“Yeah.” This time when she put her hand on his chest, Spencer suspected it was just to have contact. “You’d think it would spook me some, huh?”

Grateful that he had her with him, Spencer covered her hand with his own. Despite all her brass, she was small-boned and delicate. “Will it?”

She laughed. “You know what I always think of during stormy weather? How Jackson saved me that night. Up until then, life was something I had to bear. But after that, everything turned around for me.” She stroked him once and dropped her hand. “Truthfully, I love storms.”

Jackson had given her a new lease on life, and yet, she still wasn’t comfortable with that life. Given half a chance she’d take on the world and to hell with the consequences. She recognized that Jackson put value on her life—but she didn’t share that sentiment…yet.

One way or another, he planned to turn that around.

With more resolve than ever, Spencer moved her away from the door. “Sorry, honey, but I’m a gentleman. I’ll get your things, end of conversation.”

For several seconds, he watched as she considered fighting him over it. He knew the second she relented. “Fine, you want to get soaked? Suit yourself.” She handed him her keys. “Everything is in the trunk. Blue duffel and a canvas laptop case. But don’t you dare touch anything else.” She turned and headed for the hall.

Now anxious to see what else she had in the trunk, Spencer dashed out the door. He was soaked within seconds of leaving the porch. Rather than cleansing the air, the rain thickened the existing hot September humidity. Steam rose from the blacktop roads, occasionally disrupted by battering winds.

Scanning the area but seeing no one and nothing amiss, Spencer unlocked the trunk.

Disbelief locked his knees; he became oblivious to the stinging rain. Among the array of survival items—water, blanket, first aid kit—neatly arranged in the trunk space, he noted a sniper rifle, night-vision binoculars, machete, bulletproof vest…shovel. In every nook and cranny she’d neatly stored weapons both common and unconventional.

Jesus. What the hell did she have planned? Or did she consider those things everyday necessities?

For fear that anyone else might see, he grabbed the duffel tucked in next to other overnight bags and the canvas case half hidden behind everything else, and slammed the trunk. Did Jackson know she carried around an arsenal? Did Trace and Dare know?

One of them could have clued him in!

Keeping both bags close to his body to protect them as much as he could from the storm, Spencer ran back up his walkway, up the porch steps and to the front door. The rain blew nearly horizontal, still hitting his back but not beating down on his head like needles.

He pried off his boots, stripped off his sodden shirt and stepped in on the foyer rug.

Arizona stood there. As she fixated on his chest, her cocky smiled faded away.

Ah, hell. He knew that look and what it meant.

Arizona might not realize it yet, but she was aware of him as a man. And damn if that didn’t spark his own heated awareness.

Spencer set her things on the floor and dropped his shoes on the rug. When he straightened again, rain dripped over his temple, down his shoulder and into his chest hair.

She stared so hard, her expression almost tactile, that he felt himself stir. He forgot his disgruntlement over her store of weapons.

Palms itching with the need to touch her, Spencer shifted. “Do you realize how you’re affecting me?”

Lashes lifting, Arizona met his gaze—and cracked a wry smile. “Sorry about that.” Though dusky color tinted her cheeks, she thrust out a towel and spoke as naturally as ever. “Thought you might want to dry off.”

“Thanks.”

Her gaze flipped back to his chest.

“Arizona?”

“You’re so darned big, and you have a really awesome bod.”

With her staring like that, he was bound to get bigger by the second. Spencer touched her chin to raise her gaze. “I think your body is appealing, too.”

Snorting, she said, “I’m not running around wet and topless.”

Thank God. Fighting a smile at his own discomfort, Spencer said, “You could give it a try—”

“Ha!” She snatched up her duffel and turned away. “Hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to make use of your shower before the electricity goes out.”

Arizona. In his shower. Naked and soap slick…

“Make it quick,” he said to her retreating back. “It’s not safe with all the lightning—”

His bathroom door closed while he was still midsentence.

Well, hell.

With no more reason for modesty, Spencer stripped off his jeans there in the foyer and carried everything into the laundry room, where he also peeled off his boxers and socks. Wrapped in the towel, he went to the more private bath in his bedroom. His shower would be cold, and then maybe, after he’d gotten his libido under control, he and Arizona could go over their plans for tomorrow.

And with any luck, she’d trust him enough to explain the weapons in her trunk and the forbidding inclusion of a shovel.

* * *

AFTER A DRAWN-OUT SHOWER that did nothing to ease her growing tension, Arizona brushed her teeth, blow-dried her hair and dressed in a big gray T-shirt with loose-legged, pull-on shorts. Normally she slept in just a T-shirt and panties, but since she’d be sharing this night with Spencer, she made a concession for modesty.

She tidied up the bathroom again, storing her discarded clothing back in her duffel and leaving no sign that she’d been in there. Spencer wasn’t neat to the point of annoying, but he did keep things clean and uncluttered.

She loved his house, and the bathroom was especially cool with the vintage-looking black-and-white tiles. The towels matched the shower curtain matched the window covering matched the decorative pictures and knickknacks.

His wife must’ve been a real homebody. Arizona imagined her in an apron, baking cookies with a sweet smile.

No wonder Spencer loved her. No wonder, even after three years, he couldn’t get over losing her.

Knowing she’d taken up as much time as she could, Arizona stopped avoiding the inevitable and opened the bathroom door.

Barefoot, she went in search of Spencer and found him sprawled back on the couch in the living room, watching TV and drinking a longneck beer. At the sound of her approach he turned his head—and went still in that way men did while appreciating the sight of a woman.

He fought it, but his attention went over her, snagging on her legs for several heart-stopping seconds before coming back to her face.

It should have made her uncomfortable to be looked at like that. Before Spencer, it always had.

Now…now she didn’t know what she felt, but it definitely wasn’t discomfort. Spencer wasn’t like other men she’d known. He wasn’t a disgusting creep like the animals who’d taken her, or those who’d paid for her time. But he didn’t deny her sexuality, either, as Jackson, Dare and Trace tried to do.

Mostly…he just seemed to accept her. And like her.

“Hey.” She strode past him, going around the coffee table to put her duffel by the front door where he’d left her laptop case. With Spencer still watching her, she came back to plop down on the other end of the couch.

He stared toward where she’d dropped off the bag, then back to her with a question in his eyes.

Propping her feet on the edge of the table, Arizona controlled her smile and stared at the television. “So what are we watching?”

Silence tripped by. She could feel his rapt attention touching on her, all over her.

She made herself look at him with a raised brow. “Cat got your tongue?”

Shaking his head, he again glanced at her bag but apparently decided not to ask why she’d put it near the door. “Sorry.” A slight frown in place, he half turned toward her. “Want a beer?”

She wrinkled her nose. “No. My father used to swill those things like crazy.”

“It bothers you?” He sat forward as if to take the bottle away.

Arizona stopped him. “It doesn’t. Actually, I kind of like the smell, just not the taste.”

After gauging the truth in her words, he nodded. “Something else, then?”

“No, thanks. I already cleaned my teeth.” Brushing a hand over the soft material of his couch, she said, “Am I sleeping here?”

Seconds ticked by again. He sounded hoarse when he said, “Here at my house, yes.”

“I meant here, on the couch.”

“I have a guest room you can use. I would have put the laptop there, but the case was wet. I can move your things in there now, if you want.”

The idea of using the guest room didn’t appeal to her. She wasn’t really a guest so much as an intrusion. And the idea of being closed up…she fought off a shiver.