A Perfect Storm. Lori Foster
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Arizona snorted. “Wonderfully pushy.”
“He’s considerate and patient.”
“So is my bookie,” Arizona told her, “but I wouldn’t want to screw him.” She shuddered at just the thought.
Taking the bait, Marla leaned forward again. “He’s the best, most generous lover I’ve ever had.”
“How many have you had?”
“My God.” Gasping, Marla drew back once more. “That is none of your business!”
“You brought it up.” Still ripe with curiosity, Arizona asked, “So what does Spence do specifically that’s so awesome you’d be willing to fight for him?”
Marla blanched. “Fight? But…but I never said anything about fighting.”
“No? So then what’s this?” Arizona waved a hand between them. “Some sort of warped social call?”
Her mouth worked, but it took her a few seconds to get anything out. “He said you’re a stalker.”
Considering she’d broken in and watched him sleep, she couldn’t deny that. “Ehhhh…maybe.”
Marla found her courage again. “Well, whatever reason you’re here, you might as well give up on the idea of having him. He’s mine, and he’s staying mine.”
Spencer drove up and, looking horrified to see the women together, pulled into his driveway and slammed the truck into Park.
Lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, Arizona watched him cross the yard in a fast, long-legged stride. He wore a frown of concern. Sheesh. What did he think she’d do to his girlfriend?
“Last chance to tell me what’s so special about him.” In bed.
“That’s personal, so forget it.”
Knowing there’d be no more Q & A, Arizona said to Marla, “Spoilsport.” And then she waited for Spencer to reach them.
* * *
WHILE ARIZONA ACTED as if nothing had happened, Spencer continued to stew. He didn’t know if she truly lacked all social graces, or if she enjoyed pushing his buttons in any and every way possible.
There’d be hell to pay with Marla. She’d already started to get clingy, and now, seeing Arizona as a direct threat, she’d probably double her efforts.
Just what he didn’t need.
Since losing his wife three years ago, he’d occasionally given in to his baser urges. He was a grown man, and between long bouts of celibacy, he needed relief.
He didn’t fault himself for that.
But giving in to Marla had been a huge mistake. Their close proximity as neighbors was sticky enough; the fact that she had marriage in her eyes should have been the clincher.
Unfortunately, a few months after she’d moved in, she’d caught him at a weak moment, a moment he regretted, and after that…well, he’d slept with her a total of three times.
Idiotic. And regrettable.
But that was all before meeting Arizona, and since meeting her… No, he hadn’t wanted Marla.
Straddling a chair, Arizona watched him intently as he went about cooking dinner. There was a new attentiveness to her gaze that hadn’t been there before. He didn’t understand it.
He didn’t understand her.
They hadn’t said much since he’d more or less dragged her inside—away from Marla—with rushed excuses. He felt her amusement, and it nettled him. He felt her curiosity, and that worried him more.
“Food smells good.”
Standing at the stove turning chops, Spencer glanced back at her. An olive branch? From Arizona? He wasn’t fool enough to reject it.
“Thanks. We would have had steaks on the grill, but—”
“You didn’t want Marla to see us together.” Arizona grinned. “I get it.” She lifted her hand as if shooting a gun. “The lady’s got you in her sights and she’s taking aim.”
The microwave dinged, so he took out the potatoes. “Marla misunderstands the situation.”
“Nah, I don’t think so. She knows you’re not hooked yet, or she wouldn’t be so insecure about things.” Snorting, Arizona added, “I can’t believe you told her we slept together.”
His neck stiffened. “It was as good an excuse as any.”
“Yeah, maybe. But now she knows better.”
Going still, Spencer swallowed a groan. “You told her?” Marla would likely ramp up her efforts if she knew the truth.
“Not really on purpose.” Arizona’s gaze was so intent, it burned him.
He split the potatoes and dropped in butter. He almost hated to ask, but… “How does that conversation accidentally happen?”
“When she found out I wasn’t going all she-devil over the idea of you boinking her, she said she knew.” Nonchalantly, Arizona added, “Something about you being such a stud-muffin in the sack that if I’d ever had a taste of what you have to offer, I’d be fighting tooth and nail to keep it all to myself.”
Heat crawled up his neck. “That’s baloney.”
“Hey, she said it, not me. I was notably skeptical.”
Figured. “Questioned my prowess, huh?”
“She didn’t really mention your, er, prowess. She just said you’re well hung.”
He damn near dropped the plate of potatoes. Slowly, he turned his head to stare at her.
Unfazed, Arizona asked, “Wouldn’t that just make things more unpleasant?”
Oh, God. No way was he prepared for this conversation. Later, maybe. After he’d had time to formulate what to say, how to reassure her. How to approach the conversation in a detached, casual… Who was he kidding?
He couldn’t discuss the size of his junk with her. Not ever.
He cleared his throat and turned back to his food prep. “Just like women, to stand around gossiping.” He could only imagine Marla’s reaction to Arizona and her uncensored ways.
“You know, I asked her for specifics, but she wouldn’t share.”
He jerked around to face her again. “You asked Marla for details about me in bed with her?”
Arizona shrugged. “She made me curious with all her moony-eyed, drooling enthusiasm.”
Curious was…maybe good. Better than fear. He considered her candor, her ease in talking to him about such private things. That had to be a sign of trust, didn’t it?
Brightening, Arizona said, “You’re thinking of telling me?”
He shook his head. No, he wouldn’t tell her a thing—not yet anyway. “Maybe later.”
“Why wait?”
He turned off the stove. “Dinner is almost ready.”
She frowned but said, “Good, because I’m starved.”
Thank God for the safer subject. “When did you last eat?”
“I don’t know.”
Never the expected answer from Arizona. One day he’d get used to that. If he knew her long enough, which was doubtful. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I had a candy bar around lunchtime.”
“Nothing