A Perfect Storm (32 page)

Would she ever understand her own appeal? Or for that matter, his strength? “You can’t force me, Arizona, so yeah, no problem. I was looking forward to swimming with you, anyway.”

“Great.” Her shoulders loosened a little. “But I guess we’ll never know if I could force you, since you won’t spar with me.”

“Arizona,” he warned.

She grinned. “So now you know the sum of my personal kryptonite. Small rooms and swimming. Pretty pathetic, huh?”

“I’d say admirable. Most people have things that scare them. Bugs, heights, fire, the dark. Hell, even the boogey man. And that’s just from life, from living, not from…” He cut himself short.

“What? You were going to say trauma or some melodramatic puke like that, weren’t you?”

Lying would be pointless. He wanted to give her honesty—as much as possible, whenever possible. “Probably, yes.”

“Well, you can put a lid on that right now. And while you’re at it, stow the sympathy, too. Don’t need it, don’t want it.”

“I’m afraid you have it anyway, along with anything else you want or need.”

She dropped her feet back to the floor and turned her shoulders toward him. “Sex,” she enunciated plainly. “I’ll take that.”

“Already done. Will be done again. No problem.”

A slow grin replaced her frown. “Thanks for being so agreeable, and for working around my…glitches.”

Is that how she categorized her fear of losing control? He thought of giving her new memories, maybe making love in the lake. It’d be tough, what with the dynamic trio lurking about, but maybe he could finesse it somehow.

Would she be agreeable? He broached the possibility by saying, “There are a lot of ways to have sex.”

“Don’t I know it. But somehow, no matter the way, the guy’s usually still controlling things.”

“Not always.”

Intrigued, she said, “Yeah? Interesting.” She looked him over. “So far, you’ve controlled things, but I barely noticed because I didn’t feel controlled.”

“How did you feel?”

She gave it a lot of thought. “A little wild, I guess. Like maybe I wasn’t me anymore. Like maybe all that really mattered was touching you and tasting you and having you do the same to me. I forgot about so many things because it was all so…”

“Consuming?” Damn, talking about it with her made him hot.

“Good word choice. Yep, that’s about it. Very consuming, but in a great way. Not like consuming fear or pain—just consuming pleasure.”

Every muscle in his body twitched. Every time she opened up to him, his heart felt trampled, and he wanted to get hold of the ones who’d hurt her.

Impossible, since they were long gone.

At the same time, he wanted to promise her that she’d have that pleasure, with him, for a very long time.

Also impossible.

He made a point of not looking at her. “It should always be that way, honey.” He gripped the wheel tighter and forced out the words, as much to remind himself as her. “Any guy you sleep with should be equally concerned with how you feel.”

* * *

A
RIZONA
FLINCHED
at what he said.

Any guy she slept with.

Meaning he still wanted to fob her off on that nameless, faceless other dude.

The idea repulsed her. And it infuriated her.

But facts were facts: Spencer wanted to rehab her, and that’s all he really wanted. Oh, yeah, she knew it wasn’t a chore for him to sleep with her. She wasn’t a hag, and her hang-ups aside, she wasn’t too weird or obnoxious in bed.

But what she’d told Marla was true; he was still in love with his wife, and a woman like her would be only a temporary substitute—in bed. Nowhere else.

Nowhere that really mattered to his life or to his own personal issues.

She wished she could help him as he wanted to help her. Not that there was any real comparison. Spencer was one of the greatest, most awesome, incredible guys she knew.

And, Jesus, didn’t she sound like an infatuated sap?

Well, unlike Marla, she had pride galore. Pride had kept her going when others might have given up. She stared at Spencer for a long time, willing him to meet the accusation in her gaze, but he kept his attention on the road.

Screw it. She wouldn’t debate sleeping with other men, so instead she just said, “Good to know. I’ll try to remember that when I sleep with someone else.”

An interesting muscle clenched in his jaw, and his big hands—hands that could be so gentle and so hot when he touched her—squeezed the steering wheel.

Possessive. That’s what he was. She knew all about that because Jackson was the same. For as long as she slept with Spencer, he didn’t want her sleeping with anyone else. Not like he’d let her out of his sight long enough for her to go carousing anyway.

And that could be a problem, given she had to meet Quin tomorrow.

“So other guys are on the list,” she said, “but for tonight, soon as we can wrap up this nonsense at Dare’s—”

“Your birthday is not nonsense.”

“—I want to try out this control reversal you mentioned.”

He opened his mouth to further explain the importance of her birth celebration—and then her words registered.

Going silent, he clamped his mouth shut. New tension coursed through him—but this was tension of a very different kind.

All sexual—the fun kind of tension.

Grinning, Arizona watched him.

He pawed the steering wheel, his jaw flexing, and he flashed her a glance of heated comprehension. “You want to see how far you can push things?”

“With
you,
” she stressed, because whether he wanted to hear it or not, she didn’t want to roll with anyone else. “So…yeah, that’s what I want.”

Two slow, deep breaths expanded his chest. He tried for a cavalier shrug. “Okay, sure.”

She smirked. Of course he was agreeable about it; she hadn’t expected anything else. Men were
so
predictable.

To up the ante, she whispered, “How you kissed me, Spence?
Where
you kissed me? I want to kiss you like that, too.”

He cleared his throat. “You mean…?”

She nodded. “You on your back, hands to yourself, letting me make you nuts.” She tipped her head. “You think you’ll like my mouth on you?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation.

“You think you’ll be able to keep your hands to yourself?”

“I’ll try. But for now, let’s stow that, okay?” Shifting in his seat, he adjusted his jeans. “We’re at Dare’s, and I don’t want to face them all with a boner.”

Her gaze dropped to his lap, and sure enough, she’d gotten him all stirred up. “Nice. I have skills with this, too, huh?”

Her boasting made him laugh. “I suppose you do. But around you, I’m pretty easy, so don’t let it go to your head.”

A nice confession. She’d enjoy taking control of him—later, after she survived this little celebration.

Ugh. She made a face and peered out the windshield at the heavily wooded area.

Regardless of her personal preferences, she had to admit that Dare had a terrific place. Uneasy, she said, “I can see the lake already.”

“And smell the air?” He took the window lower. “Fresh.”

“Everything smells green.” She filled her lungs and tried not to think about swimming.

As he pulled into the long drive leading to Dare’s impressive home, Spencer reached for her hand. “Try to relax, okay? Just forget about the lake for now—we’ll deal with that later. You’re here with friends, with people who care about you. Enjoy their attention, and yes, their gifts.”

She groaned. Gifts? “My birthday is over already. This is dumb.”

Understanding and, as usual, soothing her, Spencer lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Whatever happens today, honey, know that I’m right here with you, okay? You aren’t alone.”

Yeah, that helped. For now.

Today.

But she’d soon be all alone again—sooner than even Spencer suspected.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

T
HE
SUN
BLAZED
AGAINST
the pale blue sky without a single cloud in sight. A light breeze stirred the air, sending the surface of the lake into mesmerizing ripples that glinted like diamonds.

From swaying treetops, blackbirds swooped down to peck at insects. Chattering squirrels scurried around, gathering berries and nuts. A cicada chirped relentlessly.

Laughter, casual conversation and lots of love surrounded her. For most, it’d be the perfect day.

But, God, she felt like a fraud.

Like an interloper.

She didn’t belong in this cozy family atmosphere. She didn’t really belong anywhere.

As beautifully wrapped gifts were pressed toward her, she tried not to be too conspicuous. But her smile felt wooden, her face stiff.

She detested being the center of attention—at least for something like this. If she drew attention kicking ass, well, so be it.
That
she didn’t mind so much. She was good at that. In the middle of a low-class bar, she fit right in.

Here…not so much.

On this hot afternoon, near a lake, after dinner off a grill, eaten from a patio table, her inexpensive shorts and top should have been appropriate. But next to the other women, even though they wore similar outfits, she looked…cheap. Their casual clothes were somehow classier. Richer. Better-fitting.

They had polished fingernails and pedicures. They had salon-styled hair and lotion-rich skin.

She’d never cared about that stuff. She wanted her clothes to be comfortable, period. She made sure that the legs of her jeans hid her ankle holster, and her tops had to be long and loose enough to conceal the sheath for her knife, usually fastened at the small of her back. That mattered.

Style did not. Keeping up with fashion had never been her forte.

Now she sort of wished she’d put some thought into it instead of stewing over the whole swimming thing.

With her long red hair in a thick braid, Priss looked elegant, especially in the breezy and colorful cover-up she wore over her swimsuit. And Molly in her white cotton capris and tailored halter defined chic.

In her feminine sundress and designer sandals, Alani was the classiest. Even the way the breeze teased her pale blond hair seemed affected for style. Right now, Alani had a hand protectively over her middle—and Jackson had his hand over hers. Though she wasn’t showing yet, they were both so excited about the pregnancy.

A baby.

The idea boggled Arizona’s mind. The only thing she knew about kids was that they scared her. But Jackson assured her over and over that she’d be a great aunt. He didn’t seem to find that whole idea absurd—and oddly, neither did Alani.

But who knew? She might not even be around by the time the baby was born, so why should she worry about being a bad influence?

In her ear, Chris, Dare’s right-hand man, said, “Chin up, kiddo, or everyone will think you’re glum.”

Crap. Arizona glanced up and found them all waiting on her. Their expressions varied from indulgent to amused to concerned.

Chris, always easy to be around, sat to her right. He gave her a nudge. “Start with the small packages,” he suggested, “and you can work up to the bigger stuff.”

Bigger stuff? No, she didn’t even want to know. Accepting the box he handed to her, she gave a gruff, “Thanks,” and untied the ribbon.

It surprised her to find three gifts inside: a camera, an empty photo album and a framed photo of her with Jackson and Alani. She stared at it blankly.

“I snuck and took it,” Chris told her, “because Alani wanted you to have a family photo, but she also wanted it to be a surprise.”

Her heart lodged in her throat. Jackson and Alani stood together, facing the camera, full of smiles, while she wore a silly smirk, her gaze on Jackson. It looked as if she’d been laughing at something he said.

“I love that crooked grin,” Alani told her.

Jackson reached across the table to tweak a long hank of her hair. “It’s cute.”

Cute. Not a word usually applied to her, and maybe that was what she loved most about Jackson—he saw her differently than others did.

It was also a problem, because in the most important ways—like attitude and determination—she wasn’t different at all. And for a woman to be like Jackson…well, it was hard for others to accept. It was especially difficult for macho, protective guys.

Like Jackson, Dare, Trace…and Spencer.

But, yeah, in the photo, she didn’t look bad. She actually looked…happy.

Swallowing hard, she forced herself to face Alani. “It’s great.” More wonderful than she’d ever imagined anything could be. “Thank you.”

“So you like it?”

Luckily it was a five-by-seven, not larger, because she didn’t have a wall to hang it on. She lived out of her trunk, utilizing motel rooms and other various dives. But, yes, she liked it very, very much. Maybe she could attach it to the dash of her car somehow.

Words seemed impossible, so she nodded.

“It’s a digital camera, so you can hook it up to any computer and print off more pictures. Eventually you’ll fill the album.” Alani smiled at her. “It’d be nice for you to have photos of all your family.”

Leaning in, Chris bumped shoulders with her. “She means us, you know. We’re adopting you whether you like it or not.”

“Hey, what’s not to like?” Jackson grinned at her. “If she can tolerate Trace, the rest of us are cake.”

“Ha!” Priss stretched across the table to smack Jackson. “Trace is the best part and you know it, Jackson Savor!”

“Depends on who you talk to,” he told her while ducking another swat from her. “You can’t take Trace’s word for it.”

Trace pulled Priss back to his side.

Playful insults ensued, along with lots of camaraderie and laughter. They all interacted so comfortably. They were a family, in the truest sense of the word.

But she had no idea how to fit in.

Her heart aching, Arizona glanced over at Jackson. In so many ways, he’d tried to include her. But he would soon marry Alani, and not long after that, he’d have a baby.

His own family. A
real
family.

Not for a second was Jackson oblivious to Alani—what she did, how she moved, probably her every thought. All through dinner he had watched her eat, his intense scrutiny of her mouth almost embarrassing. His awareness of her was palpable and very sweet.

How could she ever intrude on that?

Chris bumped his knee into hers, jarring her from her melancholy yet again.

She eyed him and caught his look of understanding.

“Don’t let the inmates get to you.” He handed her another gift.

“I like hearing everyone joke around,” she admitted.

“There you go,” Chris said. “Can’t beat ’em, so you may as well join ’em. Now stop hedging and open another gift.”

She received some funny T-shirts from Priss and Trace. One said, “Power in a Ponytail.” That made her laugh, especially since that was how she often wore her hair. Another said, “A Real Princess Can Save Herself,” and that was so absurd, she snickered. “Nice. I love them.”

From Molly and Dare she received a small bottle of perfume that smelled like heaven, along with some very feminine hair clips that, oddly enough, she liked, even though they were far more girly than anything she’d ever purchased.

Chris took one from her and stuck it awkwardly in her hair, making Molly laugh.

Dare leaned in and repositioned it. “Very pretty,” he pronounced.

“Really?”

Jackson laughed. “You could shave your head and still be stunning, Arizona, but, yeah, it looks great.”

“You have such amazing hair,” Molly said.

And everyone agreed.

Blushing, Arizona glanced at Spencer.

He winked, then handed her another gift. “This one is from me.”

She accepted the gift. “When did you have time to do this?”

“I found a website that’d expedite things, and then had it sent here overnight.”

“No way.”

“Way.” He smiled. “The hardest part was using the internet without you catching me at it.”

“Sneaky.” Amazed that he’d managed it without her knowing, Arizona took care not to rip the pretty paper as she peeled it away. Moving aside layers of tissue, she unveiled a stunning silver jewelry box with her initials ornately engraved in the lid.

It looked expensive, and incredibly personal.

Since she had only a few pieces of jewelry, none of it costly, she didn’t understand. But because it was from Spencer, she loved it. Coasting her fingertips over the engraving, she said, “It’s amazing.”

“Look inside,” Spencer told her.

“Oh, okay.” Without even realizing it, she held her breath as she lifted the lid—and found a matching jewelry set of bracelet, necklace, earrings and ring, all with her birthstone.

The pieces were delicate and so very, very pretty.

Sunlight glinted on the stones and in the silver. She lifted out the bracelet. “It’s all… It’s…” Moisture gathered in her eyes. Damn it, she would
not
cry. “I’ve never seen stuff so pretty.”

“Maybe someone should have gotten her a mirror,” Chris quipped, and the women quickly shushed him.

Spencer reached for her hand, took the bracelet from her and latched it around her wrist. Still holding her fingers in his, he said, “Everyone should celebrate their actual birth date.”

“Not a made-up date,” Jackson told her. “With us, it’s the real thing.”

“Although much as I like a party,” Chris added, “we could always celebrate birthdays real and staged.”

Arizona looked around at everyone, marveling at them.

Molly sat on Dare’s lap. He accepted that as ordinary, as expected, looping his arms around her and kissing her ear with honest affection. “Same here. Any excuse to get together with friends and family is okay by me.”

“Next will be the wedding,” Alani said, and she looked at Spencer. “I expect both of you there.”

“Arizona has already agreed to bring me along.”

Right. Spencer was the one who’d agreed so that she wouldn’t have to attend alone. But she appreciated his discretion.

When Alani spoke of her pregnancy next, Trace just smiled, hugging Priss closer into his side. She whispered something in his ear that made him go still, and, his eyes glittering, he whispered back, “Behave.” But he kissed her, and Priss, wearing an evil grin, rested her head on his shoulder.

Despite their career paths, the men were generous and attentive.

Despite the husbands they’d chosen, the women were confident and happy.

For Arizona, it was all such an alien concept—to be…content.

She’d never known contentment. She’d never known that level of peace. She tried to fake it around them, but even now, even with them going out of their way to include her, she knew she didn’t belong.

Given the way Spencer watched her, he probably knew it, too.

Now that she’d opened her gifts, Arizona thought about slipping away before they decided to swim. But…they’d only follow. Earlier, before they’d eaten, she’d tried that. But everywhere she went, they followed like she was the Pied Piper or something. They were determined to include her.

She didn’t want to be the spoilsport, not when they were all relaxed and comfortable.

“Thank you all so much. I don’t even know what to say about all the fuss and—”

Chris stood. “You’re not done yet.” He unearthed one more gift from beneath the piles of wrapping paper. “You still need to open my present to you.”

“Another gift?” Never in her life had she been given so much. “I’m speechless.” Unnerved by all the attention, Arizona opened the gift—and stared in disbelief. She almost forgot to breathe.

Grinning like a sinner, Chris said, “Well?”

“Oh, my God.” She wheezed in air, and each word she spoke rose higher and higher. “Are you freaking
kidding me?
” She lifted out the heavy knife, the same one she’d been saving for, and hefted it in her palm. “Oh, my God, Chris, it’s
awesome!
”

Silence fell around the table.

Neither she nor Chris cared.

“You like it?” Chris asked.

“Are you serious? Look at that blade! Look at the anodized titanium handles, the double thumb openers.” She turned it this way and that. “What’s not to like?”

“Glad to hear it.”

Dumbfounded, moved by emotion, she shook her head. “How did you know?”

“I listen. I heard you talk about it.” He gave a telling look to the others. “And I knew it’d make you happy.” He bent to see her face. “At least, I hope it did.”

Over the moon with incredulous joy, she carefully set the knife back in the box.

“Arizona?”

She threw herself against Chris’s chest and felt his arms come around her. Fighting off tears wasn’t easy.