A Perfect Storm. Lori Foster
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She thought about it, then shook her head again.
Frustration edged in. “Why would you not eat?”
“I just forget sometimes.” She left her chair and approached the stove. “Can I do anything to help get the show on the road here? My stomach is growling.”
While she sniffed the pork chops, Spencer looked at the top of her head, at the shiny dark hair, the crooked part. Everything about her seemed endearing.
If a hedgehog could be endearing. “You can set the table if you want.”
“Sure thing.” Bumping him with her hip, she grinned and said, “A proper place setting is one of the things I learned in the school that Jackson sent me to. But I’m guessing you’re more into informality, right?”
“Casual works for me.” After first meeting Arizona, he’d tried to look up her background but found very little. He assumed Jackson was responsible for keeping her off the grid; it was how that elite trio worked. The less info out there, the better they liked it.
It fascinated Spencer, watching Arizona move around his kitchen, seeing her go on tiptoe to reach into cabinets. She’d again left her sneakers by the front door, and her bare feet were narrow, cute. Slender hands, small wrists.
So fundamentally female—but such a live wire and always unpredictable.
Hoping to sound cavalier, he said, “Tell me about the school.”
With no sign of offense, she said, “It was this exclusive all-girl finishing school. Real hoity-toity.” She flashed him another grin. “Not exactly my speed, but Jackson paid through the nose, so they were always nice.”
Spencer stared at her. Good God, they still had those? “You’re serious?”
“Sure.” Carrying two plates to the table, Arizona said, “I mean, no one looking for me would have thought to find me there, right?”
“I can’t imagine finding any young lady there.” But Arizona? In a structured routine meant to stuff societal rules down her throat? “What was it like?”
“Just an education, and a few classes on things like—” She swept her hand over the table. “Etiquette. Not that this setting really counts, but you get my drift.”
“You went along with that?”
“Why not? The idea was sort of twofold. I figured I could learn how to blend in, and though he didn’t say it, Jackson figured he’d have me locked down and out of trouble.” She shook her head with some fond memory. “Jackson can be a real card.”
Jackson had his sympathy. Teasing, Spencer asked, “Were you getting into trouble even then?”
She paused, made a face. “I think mostly he wanted me out of his apartment because I came on to him.”
Flattened, Spencer stood there, mute.
Arizona glanced at him. “Dumb, huh?”
“I never…” He shook himself. “You…?”
“Snap out of it, Spence. Sheesh, I didn’t expect you to get all tongue-tied over sex.”
“Sex?” Had she slept with Jackson then? A red haze gathered in his vision. That son of a—
“Keep up, will you?” She rolled her eyes. “I offered, Jackson refused, and then he was different. Maybe uncomfortable. How should I know?”
“He refused?”
Sighing, a little dreamy, Arizona said softly, “Yeah, he did.”
Suddenly he understood. “You thought to repay him, didn’t you?”
“No. Well…maybe.” She made a face. “Something like that, I guess. But Jackson had this heart-to-heart with me, and he was…kind.”
So kind that he’d packed her off to a stuffy school where she wouldn’t fit in? “Yeah, he’s a prince.”
“I know.” Still wearing that small smile, she said, “I suggested going to a school, but I didn’t expect that school. I just wanted to not be dumb, you know? But we talked about it, and I liked the idea.” She flashed him a look. “I had no idea it’d cost so much, though.”
“Jackson paid for it all?”
“Yeah. Insane, huh?” Going back to the cabinets for tableware, she said, “The way that guy blows money—”
“Think of it as an investment in your future.” If he hadn’t met Jackson, if he didn’t know him as an honorable man in love with a different woman, Spencer might have been a little jealous. Not that he had the right. Not that he even wanted to think along those lines.
But knowing that Arizona had once offered herself to the other man, he couldn’t deny the twinge of resentment. Jackson had done the right thing in turning her down.
And when the time came, he would do the right thing, too. He would do what was best for her.
“That’s almost exactly what Jackson said.”
After stirring the steamed vegetables one more time, Spencer put them in a bowl and carried them to the table. He dropped a potato and one chop on Arizona’s plate, then his own.
He had a lot more questions, but he also wanted to feed her. “What would you like to drink?”
“Milk would be good.”
Why that surprised him, he couldn’t say. “Milk it is.” As he filled her glass, he asked, “So you liked the school?”
“It was okay.” She wrinkled her nose. “Except that they tattled a lot. Their loyalty was to Jackson. I mean, he paid, so that makes sense. But still, I couldn’t even dodge out for a day or two without them telling him.”
Keeping himself in check, Spencer asked, “Why did you dodge out?”
“I get restless.” She eyed her food with significance.
He joined her at the table with a glass of iced tea. “Go ahead. Dig in.”
She surprised him again by showing impeccable manners. She put her napkin in her lap, cut a small piece of her pork chop, chewed quietly.
He took great pleasure in watching her. “Good?”
“Mmm. Delicious.” Her bright gaze went over him. “Sex, cooking, kicking as—er, butt. Is there anything you aren’t good at?”
“Good catch.” She’d almost cursed—and then she would have owed him that kiss. Refusing to acknowledge his disappointment, Spencer forked up a big bite of buttered baked potato. “Don’t take Marla’s word on the sex. As for kicking butt, I can hold my own, but I’ve gotten my fair share of bruises.”
“And modest, too.” She finished another bite. “Why shouldn’t I take Marla’s word?”
“You said it yourself, she has me in her sights. Wouldn’t do her much good to insult me, now, would it?”
“I guess not. But it was more than that. She made it sound like you were something special. Something more than—”
“So…” Finding it prudent to interrupt, Spencer asked, “What did you mean by blending in?”
She stalled, then her slender shoulder rolled. “What did I know of polite society? Even before I got caught up with the traffickers, my family was not what you’d call normal.”
“What would you call them?” he asked gently.
“Hmm. Well, my momma was mostly okay, I guess, except that she drank too often, and she put up with daddy and his cronies. And I can’t tell you much about my dad since I can’t curse.” She grinned. “Let’s just say he wouldn’t win any awards for father of the year.”