Authors: Lori Foster
she was gabbing up a storm, then she keeled over. Heart attack or something like that. Everyone
stood around looking at her, trying to decide what to do."
"Where was this?"
"At an outdoor arena in California. I was signing autographs with some other SBC fighters. We'd
been there for hours. The lady was in my line, about ten people back. I noticed her because I don't
normal y get women that age wanting my autograph. It's mostly guys of al ages and younger women."
Her eyes narrowed over the "younger women" comment, but she said nothing.
"Anyway, one second she was fine, then boom—she hit the pavement like a bag of wet cement. I
remember the sun was real y bright that day, and I could see her turning blue."
"Oh my God. How awful."
"Yeah." Dean scrutinized Eve's expression. She looked appropriately appreciative of the situation, so maybe tel ing her wasn't such a lame idea after al . "There was al this immediate chaos. The
woman she'd been talking to started screaming and crying, and folks were trying to calm her down.
One of the guards at the event cal ed nine-one-one, but he was so excited, he wasn't making much
sense. Someone tried pouring water on her face, but she didn't stir at al . After that, no one did
anything. They just looked at her and fretted."
"Except for you?"
Dean made a face. "I asked if anyone knew CPR, and got al these blank, horrified stares in return,
so I did what I could."
"You resuscitated her?"
"I guess. When the paramedics got there, I was stil working on her. I started to get out of their way, but they told me I was doing fine and to keep it up while they got out a gurney and med kit and some
other stuff. Then the lady started sputtering and gagging and I backed up real quick."
Eve grinned at him.
"Once she was breathing, the EMTs took over and within a few minutes the ambulance was on its
way to the hospital."
"You know for sure that she made it?"
"I cal ed the hospital and checked." A reluctant smile pul ed at him. "A few months later, she came to one of my fights, and Simon, my manager, brought her around back to meet me."
"She must have been excited."
He shook his head, remembering. "She'd brought me flowers."
"No kidding."
"Big yel ow roses." Simon had put the stupid things in water and toted them along when they left the arena. They'd lasted nearly a week. "She claimed the paramedics told her that she would have died
without me. I don't know if that's true, but she seemed to believe it."
Eve tenderly smoothed his hair away from the stitches. "'It's a good thing you knew CPR."
"I didn't."
She froze, her eyes widening. "Then how—"
"Like most people, I'd seen it done in movies. And I figured she was dying anyway, so it wasn't like I could hurt her by trying." He shrugged. "That night, after I won the fight, I brought her up on the mat and had the photographers take a few photos for her. She blushed like a schoolgirl—but she loved it."
"That was so sweet of you."
Dean frowned. "It wasn't sweet. It's just that she'd been in my line for an autograph when she
col apsed."
"So you felt responsible?"
"No. But I figured giving her a little attention was the least I could do."
Eve looked at him with awe and with some softer emotion that Dean couldn't nail down. He didn't
know if he liked it or not. And that made him uneasy.
"It's funny how most people wil stand there, waiting for someone else to do something, instead of
trying." Her gaze tripped down his body and back up again. "But you're not that type of man, are you?"
Oh hel . She sounded al mushy now. "I'l tel you one thing, I stil catch crap from the guys."
"Why?"
"Are you kidding? I gave an old lady mouth-to-mouth. At the time, no one was laughing. But now?
Some of them insist that I molested her, that she was breathing just fine before I took her to the
ground. Others claim she was faking, and I fel for it." They'd said other, more crude things, but Dean didn't share those. They were said in jest, and he had a feeling Eve wouldn't appreciate the humor.
"Gee, why am I not surprised?" She rol ed her eyes. "I mean, men are al so mature."
Dean laughed. "Your turn. Tel me something about you."
She leaned over and kissed him. Then, uncaring of her nudity, she flopped onto her back. "The
problem is that I've never saved anyone or done anything half as interesting as professional fighting."
"Wel , hel , I hope not."
"Let me think about it for a minute."
After a sideways look ripe with impatience, Dean left the bed and went into her private bath. Outside
he could hear the storm stil raging, with rain and wind lashing the windows.
When she stil said nothing, he decided to help her along. "You attended col ege?" he prompted
through the open door.
"Local y. I majored in PR and later attended a tourism and hospitality management program."
"You ever been anywhere else?"
"Just on vacations. Never any place exotic."
"No desire to move, to maybe see the rest of the country?" As he spoke, he cleaned up, ridding
himself of the condom and again wondering if Eve would make him leave in the storm. If that's what
she planned, he wouldn't make it easy on her.
"Harmony is home. My family and friends are here. I wouldn't mind visiting other places, but I can't
imagine living anywhere else."
He stepped back into the bedroom in time to see her finish smoothing back the comforter. The
moment she saw him, she hustled back into the bed and under a sheet.
Dean didn't wait for an invitation; he stretched out on his side facing her, propped on one elbow.
Eve raised a brow.
Grinning, Dean reached for the sheet, pul ed it back, and tossed it to the bottom of the bed. Eve
didn't move, except to stiffen.
He looked at her body, from her shapely, lightly tanned legs to her dark pink nipples, which were now
soft and very tempting. His gaze went back to that little bel y-button ring. He rested his hand on her
stomach, relishing the warm silk of her skin.
She clamped her hand over his. "No way, Havoc. Forget it. I'm done. Finished."
He brought his gaze to hers, wondering if he should test the theory.
Eve drew back. "Seriously." Her fingers tightened on his. "After three .. . Wel , I never realized ... I mean, good God.
three?"
"Yeah."
She let out a long, shaky breath. "I'm definitely done."
Dean felt both charmed and chal enged, but he tamped down the urge to show her how easy it'd be
for him to change her mind. He smoothed her hair from her face and said gently, "Al right."
What looked remarkably like disappointment clouded her blue eyes, but she didn't remark on his
easy agreement. "Thank you."
That made him laugh. "You're naked. I'm naked. If we're going to refrain, we need to talk. So tel me, you're what? Midtwenties, right?"
"Twenty-five."
"So in twenty-five years, what has Eve .. ." It suddenly struck Dean how little he knew of her. With as bland an expression as he could muster, he said, "Out of curiosity, what is your last name?"
Eve groaned. "Oh my God, this is sad. I'm naked in bed with a stud who doesn't even know my ful
name."
"You gotta live life to the ful est."
With absurd formality, she offered him her hand. "Eve Lavon."
Dean accepted the handshake. "So Eve Lavon. What have you been up to during your life?"
"Nothing worth talking about, real y." She frowned in thought, gave him an impish smile, and said, "I guess I could tel you how bored I usual y am with men."
"Usual y?"
"Yes." She laced her fingers with his, probably to ensure his hands didn't wander. "But you don't bore me, Dean. Not at al . I guess because I've never known anyone like you."
He waited, wondering if she'd expound on that.
"Now, don't get skittish," she teased. "I'm not going to ask you to move in or anything."
Dean pul ed his hand free so he could cup her chin and turn her face toward him. "I'l admit that we
don't know each other that wel , but you'l soon discover that I don't get skittish. Ever."
"You don't?"
"No. You're confusing me with someone else. Probably someone who was an idiot—if he got
skittish."
She laughed. "If I told you that ever since I was twelve I've wanted a husband and a dog and three
kids, maybe even four, in a tidy house with a white picket fence, would that make you skittish?"
"No." Talking with her this long in a bed, both of them buck-ass, had worn on him. But laughing with her had affected him, too. He didn't often laugh with women. Not real y with men, either.
And then there were her smiles. And her teasing. And her scent.. . Dean lowered himself over her
so that he half covered her and her mouth was only an inch away. "I'm not skittish, but I am relieved that you haven't yet found a guy to fit the bil ."
"Oh."
Taking her bottom lip between his teeth, he stroked her with his tongue—and then released her. "So
tel me, what about these men bored you?"
She stared at his mouth and breathed heavily. "I'm not sure."
Dean smiled. Yeah, it'd be real easy to change her mind—that is, if she hadn't already changed it on
her own. "Maybe they weren't strong enough for you."
Her brows came down. "Strong enough?"
"I bet you crooked your little finger, and they came running. Right?"
At first, she didn't answer. But her frown smoothed away and her chin lifted. "With you, I didn't even have to crook my little finger." Her smile taunted him. "Now did I?"
Dean put one leg over hers, trapping her on the mattress. "Is that how you saw it? And here I
thought you were chasing me, not the other way around. Especial y after hearing everything you said
to Cam."
When he bent to kiss her, she flattened both hands on his chest. "Now wait a minute. I've never
chased a man in my life."
Dean nearly laughed—until she added, "But speaking of your sister, I want to know when you're
going to see her again."
It was his turn to frown. "I thought we agreed you'd butt out of my business with Cam."
"Nope." She stubbornly shook her head while continuing to hold him at bay. "Not even close. You ordered, and I ignored."
"Leave it alone. Eve."
"No." She pul ed him down and kissed him hard—
almost
distracting him. "So when wil you see her?
I know she's anxious to get to know you and she has so much to tel you. And I'm worried about this
storm because her roof—"
Pushing his hand down between their bodies, Dean cupped his fingers over her—freezing her in
midsentence. "I have an idea."
"Forget it." Her eyelids sank down. Her voice became ragged. "I mean it."
No she didn't. "Instead of trying to piss me off, why don't you invite me to stay the night?"
Her eyes opened and she stared at him. "Why would I do that?"
"So we can go for number five."
Her mouth fel open, then closed with a snap. "
Five?
You're kidding, right?"
"No." He began nuzzling his way down to her breasts.
"But..." A soft moan escaped her. "What happened to four?"
He reached a nipple, licked a circle around it, and said, "It comes before five. But I'm not fond of
even numbers, so I can't stop there." At the same time, he eased two fingers into her.
Her body lifted into his, her arms came around his neck, and her protests died a quick death. In a
mere breath of sound, she whispered, "Al right. You can stay the night."
* * *
twenty-one, her employment choices weren't so limited. And Dean was right—she needed to work
whether Cam liked it or not.
A wicked crack of lightning flashed across the big window at the front of the bar, fol owed seconds
later by the deep rumble of thunder. She sighed. No doubt, the roof was leaking again. And that meant
tomorrow Lorna would complain nonstop about not getting enough sleep and about Cam's hesitation
in sel ing the place.
For sure, Roger would hire her. But she didn't want to work for Roger. It was bad enough that Cam
did and that Cam was even considering him for a husband.
Jacki shuddered just thinking about it.
If she got a job here waiting tables and serving drinks, she would probably make a kil ing in tips. She
could help with the expenses and maybe they could keep the house.
Maybe Cam would stop thinking about tying herself to Roger.
The pay sucked, but the hours would work with her class schedule. And how hard could it be to
serve drinks? Lots of laughter, lots of fun, many of her friends hanging around. She could handle that.
It'd be like a nonstop party.
Jacki finished the application and started toward the front, wending her way around tipsy men and
flirting women. Halfway there, she caught sight of a massive man striding up to the bar.
Mouth hanging open, Jacki absorbed the impressive sight of him, tracking her gaze over him from
head to toe and back again.
Jeans dark with the rain molded to legs as thick and sturdy as tree trunks. Longish black hair clung
to his forehead until he ran a hand through it, slicking it back. A snowy white T-shirt, soaking wet and
mostly transparent, glued itself to his upper body, showing off the ample chest hair beneath.
Jacki couldn't get her feet to move. Hel , she could barely keep her heart beating.
He had to be six and a half feet tal , and probably weighed no less than two hundred and fifty pounds