Читать книгу Tough Love - Lori Foster - Страница 10
ОглавлениеVANITY BAKER TRIED not to look, but she felt the intensity of his stare tracking her every move. She was pretty sure she felt simmering lust, too, and when she peeked at him, sexual heat glimmered hotly in his eyes.
Pretending to dance, she put a hand to her heart to contain the rapid tripping.
Yummy Stack Hannigan, with the steel biceps and rigid abs, the charm-your-pants-off smile and smoky, gray-blue eyes. Whew. She supposed weeks of teasing could hone the interest of any red-blooded man.
But she didn’t want just any man. She wanted this particular light-heavyweight mixed martial arts fighter. The offer she’d given him—be her escort for their friends’ wedding and she’d take the guesswork out of his post-evening sexcapades—had been pretty daring. But then, she’d needed an edge to get what she wanted.
In the fight world, they called him The Wolf. Since she soaked up everything that had to do with Stack, she’d naturally listened to the rationale for the name. Men claimed he got the handle because of the way he stalked his fight opponents like prey.
Women said he’d earned it in the bedroom—by making the ladies howl.
Vanity shivered, just thinking about it.
She’d known him for months, and other than being polite, other than treating her like one of the group, either flustering her or making her laugh—and often making her hot—he hadn’t made a move.
So she had.
And now, finally, the big day had arrived.
Laughing, the bride and best man danced around her. Yvette, her very best friend, now happily married to her own fighter, looked beyond stunning. Love did that for a woman, Vanity guessed, took away all the shadows and doubt and filled in every empty space with joy.
Love. Yes, anyone who looked at Cannon or Yvette saw it.
In fact, she saw love on the faces of a lot of the guests. The wedding had been the anticipated event with most of the town attending. Yvette had married a very popular guy; everyone adored and respected Cannon, from local shop owners to police detectives and a wide range of fighters, amateurs and pros alike.
All around her their friends talked, laughed, danced. Usually Vanity enjoyed people-watching, but now she barely noticed them as she concentrated on not looking at Stack.
When Yvette announced it was time for her to throw the bouquet, the single ladies all lined up. Cherry Peyton, currently very involved with one of the bigger fighters, Denver Lewis, sidled up next to Vanity.
As part of the wedding party, their dresses coordinated. But as the maid of honor, Vanity’s had a sweetheart neckline instead of spaghetti straps, and where the others were a richer rose color, hers was a paler blush.
Smiling and indulgent, the men all clustered around the bar, looking very fine in their tuxes.
When her gaze met Yvette’s, Vanity knew what her friend would do. Laughing, she played along, her arms up as if she hoped to catch the flowers.
Yvette let them fly—right for Vanity.
But commitment wasn’t what she wanted right now, not while Stack stood there watching her so intently. No way would she chance scaring him off before they’d even had a chance to get together. Not when she was this close to finally knowing him intimately.
At the last second she dipped to the side, and the bouquet hit Cherry’s impressive breasts instead.
Everyone laughed, and when Vanity peeked at Denver, she saw his smug smile. Huh. So maybe matrimony didn’t scare him. Maybe he and Cherry had already made plans.
While the room broke out in catcalls, applause and laughter, Cannon scooped Yvette into his arms, whirled her in a circle, then shouted his farewell and took his smiling bride out a side door.
That made it official—an end to the wedding, allowing her to wrap up her duties as maid of honor. She, too, was now free to leave.
With Stack.
Her heart started pumping harder. An insidious warmth expanded inside her. She drew a careful breath, looked toward Stack, and got caught in his piercing gaze.
For weeks now she’d been tormenting him, kissing him when he least expected it, while also encouraging him to continue his bachelor ways. She’d deliberately confused him with her insistence that he see other women, that it should be “business as usual” for both of them.
Not that she’d been seeing anyone else. But Stack didn’t know that. Since she’d left him free and clear to play the field, she wanted him to think she’d been doing the same.
But no more. After an excruciatingly long wait, tonight was finally their night.
Smiling at Stack, she crooked her finger to beckon him.
As if he’d been waiting with the engine revving, he shot toward her, reaching her in only a few long strides.
The breath she held came out in a gasp as he pulled her against him, locked an arm around her waist and took her mouth with hot, incredible greed.
Whoa. And here she thought she’d been on the ragged edge.
He was so much bigger than her in every way, he made her feel tiny and feminine and fragile. In all other situations her independent soul might have rebelled, but not now. Not with Stack. She trusted him 100 percent, and wanted him even more than that.
Flattening her hands on his chest, she smoothed over the solid wall of his pecs, up to those rock-solid shoulders. Heat poured off him, and—oh, God—he smelled so good. With his big hands opened on her, his mouth eating at hers, she forgot...everything.
The music and the conversation of other guests faded away. She tunneled her fingers into his hair and tried to get closer still.
Someone bumped into them; Stack didn’t stop kissing her. If anything, his tongue became bolder, exploring, tasting.
Laughter, probably from his friends, sounded nearby, and still he didn’t stop. He gathered her closer.
Jarred back to the here and now, Vanity pressed against him. A true gentleman, Stack immediately eased up.
Her lips tingled. Shoot, her whole body tingled. She drew in a shaky breath. “Wow.”
Proving he hadn’t, in fact, forgotten they stood in the middle of the floor at a friend’s wedding, he whispered against her lips, “Let me get you someplace private.” A softer kiss of persuasion. “I’ll give you reason to be wowed.”
Such a tempting promise.
Oh, how she wanted to haul him to the nearest quiet closet. But that would be dumb. What she wanted, what she hoped he ultimately wanted, would require hours, not a few frenzied minutes.
Voice filled with regret, Vanity explained, “I can’t go just yet.”
His rough growl proved his impatience.
“Very soon, I promise.” Adjusting their embrace, her arms around his neck, his hands at her waist, she put some space between them. “Let’s dance while you cool down and I—”
“Dream on.” But he eased his hold and fell into step with her. Gaze burning over her, then lingering on her cleavage, he asked, “How much longer do I have to wait?”
Vanity didn’t pretend confusion; she knew exactly what he meant, exactly what he wanted. “One dance. Then I need to get the bouquet out of the fridge and gather up some presents and—”
He groaned again, prompting Vanity to laugh.
“Let’s talk.” Maybe casual conversation would help cool his jets and give her a needed opportunity to regroup.
“Okay.” He leaned in. “I can’t wait to taste you—all over.”
All over?
“And to get you under me. Or over me. Your preference.”
“Stack.” Her shaky voice sounded weak. “Let’s talk about something that isn’t provoking.”
“Like what? Because honest to God, darlin’, after weeks of your verbal foreplay, I’m feeling pretty damned provoked.”
The smile came slowly. Teasing Stack was a true pleasure.
She wouldn’t mind teasing him for the rest of her life.
“Verbal foreplay?” she asked. “Is that what we’ve been doing?”
Holding her gaze, he pressed his hand lower to the small of her back...and beyond. When her eyes widened, he stopped, and his mouth tipped in his own small smile. “Yeah, you play with words, saying just enough to get me firing on all cylinders.” He ducked his head to steal another quick kiss. “Tonight your playtime is over.”
“I like playing,” she protested. With any luck she’d soon have uninterrupted hours with his naked body.
“I know you do. But now it’s my turn.” Stack tucked her closer and said softly near her ear, “I’m going to love playing with you.”
“Stack.” She hid her warm face against his warmer throat. She’d drunk very little, but his touch, his scent, intoxicated her. “Everyone is watching us.”
“Wrong.” His lips grazed her throat. “Denver is zoning on Cherry. Armie’s trying to figure out how to dodge Merissa, Miles and Brand are hooking up with some locals, and Leese is surrounded by three young things actively trying to convince him they’re not too young.”
It was the last that had her leaning back to take a look. She and Leese had grown close. She thought of him as her pal, and he accommodated her as long as he didn’t have other plans. Whenever she needed an excuse to be in the same area as Stack, or a platonic date to one of the fight competitions, Leese stepped up for her.
True enough, Leese currently stood off to the side, one shoulder to the wall and an indulgent smile on his handsome face as three remarkably gorgeous girls, probably no more than twenty years old, hung on his every word.
A soft bite to her shoulder regained Vanity’s attention. “Hey!”
Stack licked the spot, then opened his mouth on her, sucking until her toes curled in her shoes and she moaned, entirely forgetting that they were on a dance floor with other people around.
“Better,” he whispered, kissing his way back to her mouth. “Attention on me tonight, darlin’. Me and only me.”
Incredulous, she reared back to see him. “You’re jealous of Leese?”
Blue eyes darkened, turned smokier. “No reason to be, right?”
“None at all.” Being as honest with him as she could, she admitted, “Leese knows I want you.”
Stack missed a beat before resuming the sway of their dance. “You told him about tonight?”
“No.” How much should she admit? She considered it, and decided, why not? “I get hit on.”
That made him laugh.
Feeling her face go hot, Vanity lifted her chin. “Well, I do. So whenever I go to watch one of you fight, Leese goes along with me—as long as he’s not the one fighting and he doesn’t have a date.”
“Using him as repellent, huh?”
She wrinkled her nose. “That sounds terrible.” And true. “I like Leese. We get along well. Random guys think he’s a date, and Leese understands.”
Cocking a brow, Stack stated, “That you want me.”
“Yes.” Deal with that, she thought.
Before tonight, before this very moment, Vanity would have clarified that she wanted him just for tonight. She’d lured him in with a no-strings-attached promise in hopes that once they hooked up, he’d enjoy himself enough to insist on a replay.
Then another, and another.
Devious, yes. Manipulative, sure. But her deception wouldn’t hurt anyone. She would have sex with Stack. And if, despite her best efforts, he decided they were one and done, she wouldn’t harass him. She’d be disappointed. She’d be devastated. But she had her pride.
Tilting his head, Stack studied her. “So Leese throws other guys off the scent, because...what? You don’t date?”
Mmm, no. She didn’t, but she’d prefer he not know that. Not just yet, anyway. “Let’s just say I’m choosy. When I want a man, I let him know.”
Now Stack looked irate. “The way you let me know?”
She tried not to smile but lost the battle. “You’re the only man I’ve made a deal with.”
“The deal being a date for sex?”
Yes, that was the deal she’d offered him. But it wasn’t that simple. “Not just any date,” she insisted while looking at his mouth. “It’s not like I’d make that offer for a date to a movie or a dance or anything lame.”
“You’re saying the wedding is special?”
Vanity bit her lip and slowly shook her head.
His gaze held hers. “So you’re saying I’m special.”
The teasing look in his eyes warmed her from the inside out. “As the maid of honor, I needed a date. And this wasn’t just any wedding. It was the wedding.” Just about everyone in Warfield, Ohio, knew Cannon. As a top fighter for the SBC, he was a hometown hero. Actually, he was such a great guy that he’d been a hero before the SBC signed him on. But now, with fans around the world, the locals totally revered him.
Being a fighter on the fast track and one of Cannon’s close friends, Stack had his own share of admiration from near and far. “You were the perfect choice.”
He nodded slowly. “So I’m not only special but perfect.” He nudged her closer. “Careful or you’ll make me blush.”
Vanity doubted such a thing was possible. “I know I’ve teased you.”
“Yeah, but most of the time I enjoyed it.”
“I’m glad.” Going on tiptoe to brush her mouth over his, Vanity stared into his eyes. Timing was everything, she reminded herself. And now seemed like a good time to share a truth. “You’re the only one I considered for this particular bargain.”
For the longest time he stared into her eyes and said nothing. Finally, when she thought she couldn’t take it a moment more, he cupped a hand to her neck, moved his thumb over her jaw. “I’m glad it was me.”
Without her realizing it, he’d danced them over to the entryway. Now he took her hand and tugged her away from the ballroom. “What do we have to do before we can get out of here? And don’t make the list too long, because I swear, I won’t make it.”
No, she wouldn’t either. “Five minutes, tops.”
“I’ll help and we’ll make it two.”
* * *
EARLY NOVEMBER IN OHIO brought colder temps but, thankfully, no frost. A good thing, since Vanity’s dress, shoes and matching wrap weren’t designed to brave the elements.
As the car quickly warmed, Stack watched her relax. Her shivering subsided, and she allowed the wrap to loosen.
He liked her in that fluffy dress, how it showed off her tiny waist and cleavage, how feminine it looked. But he’d like her more out of it. So many times he’d imagined her naked, waiting on him, accepting him. Moving against him.
Coming with him.
It hadn’t taken much to work up the visual, given that the clothes she wore often left little to the imagination. Especially at the gym. Her fitted bike shorts and sports bras left every guy in the place stealing looks.
Stealing, because even if Vanity didn’t realize it, the others knew that Stack had laid claim, so they thought twice about outright ogling her.
Vanity liked to think she had all the control.
Didn’t bother Stack any. When it came to women, he was pretty easygoing. Some laughs, lots of sex, a friendly fare-thee-well, and everyone stayed happy. No reason for drama. Definitely no reason for getting all tensed up.
But even as he thought it, he flexed his shoulders to work out the stiffness in his muscles. Tense? Hell, yeah. Lust had him tied into about a hundred knots, all thanks to Vanity Baker.
The light of street lamps flashed into the car, giving him glimpses of her pale blond hair, her high breasts nearly spilling out of her dress, and those longer than long legs that had filled his dreams for too many nights.
He also saw the banked excitement in her eyes and the flush of anticipation in her cheeks.
“Hey.” Driving one-handed, he laid his other hand on the seat between them, palm up.
After a small smile, she put her hand in his—and he felt her trembling.
“Still cold?” Lust had him on fire, but he could adjust the heat for her.
“No.”
Other possibilities skated into his mind, filling him with protectiveness. Was she uneasy? Maybe a little worried?
It’d make sense. For a while after they’d first met, she’d been polite but not openly interested. By small degrees she’d warmed up, started paying more attention to him. Then out of the blue she’d propositioned him, and every day since, she’d been deliberately toying with him, hyping up the attraction until he could think of little other than hearing her scream with a climax.
All their friends knew he was ready to detonate. Vanity knew it, too.
Brushing his thumb over her knuckles, he asked gently, “Nervous, then?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“You’re shaking.”
Lifting his hand to her mouth, she lightly bit a knuckle, then kissed the spot. Gaze sincere, she whispered, “Because I’m eager.”
Well, hell. She’d just done it again, made him taut with her words. Needing to explain to her, just in case he jumped the gun, he said, “The first time...”
“Fast and hard,” she finished for him. “I know.” Her smile slipped into place even as her eyes darkened and her voice went all breathy. “It’ll be worth it if I get to watch you. I’ve been thinking about that forever.”
Jesus.
“After that,” she murmured, “then it can be my turn.”
Trying to give a little more room to his growing erection, Stack stretched out one leg. If she kept that up, he wouldn’t make it to her place. Hell, he was so close to losing it, the idea of pulling over for a quickie in the car appealed in a big way. It should have embarrassed him, how she stole his control. But knowing Vanity pushed him on purpose only made him more determined to blow her mind with sex.
Reaching for long-lost patience, he drew in a deep breath and put both hands back on the steering wheel. “You’re playing with fire. You know that, right?”
“I’m playing with you, Stack Hannigan, and it’s the most fun I’ve had in a very long time.”
He liked her like this, so open about what she wanted—namely, him. “Like I said before, you’ll pay for the play.”
“I’m hopeful.” She laughed, and even that turned him on.
Vanity was the one of the sexiest women he’d ever known, but she was also real. Bold. He didn’t have to wonder at her thoughts, because she spelled out what she wanted and how she wanted it.
She also made it clear that their time together had a short time frame, and after they’d settled the lust, she fully expected him to mosey on out of her life.
Should’ve been perfect, only...it nettled him that she didn’t push for more.
Both of them now silent, he turned a corner onto a dark street—and immediately saw the collision. Two vehicles, one in a ditch, the other overturned. Headlights cut the dark of the night at odd angles. Even as Stack slowed his car, searching the scene, the overturned car ignited and flames licked into the air.
“Oh, my God.” Vanity sat forward to stare. “There!” She pointed to the side of one car. “There’s a body!”
Stack jerked the car to the curb, slammed it into Park and released his seat belt at the same time. “Call 911.”
She already had her purse in her hands, digging through it. “Be careful,” she called after him as he hurriedly left the car.
He’d only taken one step when Stack heard a woman’s weak screams.
Breaking into a run, he headed toward the burning SUV. The body Vanity had spotted was a man. It appeared he’d been thrown free and half sat nearby, dazed and confused, blood trickling down his face.
The heat grew nearly unbearable as Stack got closer to the mangled vehicle. Following the voice, he bent to look under the heap of twisted metal and found the woman frantically trying to free herself. Soot covered her face, along with some blood and bruises. Hysterical, she reached toward him. “Help me!”
Stack caught her hands, but some part of the SUV pinned her legs, and he couldn’t free her. Fuck, fuck. He looked around again. From the other car a man staggered out. Drunk or injured, Stack wasn’t sure.
“Give me a hand,” Stack told him.
Instead the man backed up and started nearly incoherent babbling. Drunk, then. Stack watched as he took a lopsided step and fell to his ass.
Suddenly Vanity was there. She’d left her wrap behind, and now her arms and shoulders were exposed to the cold.
She paid no mind to that, asking quickly, “What can I do?”
Ah, hell, he didn’t want her anywhere near the burning car.
“Please, oh, please, help me!”
Grabbing his shirt, Vanity hauled him closer. “I’m helping. Now tell me what to do!”
Clearly she couldn’t ignore the woman’s screams any more than he could.
“Grab her hands. Soon as I rock it back, see if you can pull her free.” He knelt to see the woman. So far the flames weren’t near her, but she’d still feel the heat, and she’d have to know the fire was spreading. “We’re going to try to drag you out.”
“Yes, yes, hurry!”
Shit. “Your legs—”
“It’s okay,” she screamed. “Hurry!”
With her dress dangerously close to the hot flames, Vanity knelt down and locked hands with the woman. “Tell me if I hurt you.”
Putting his shoulder to the SUV, Stack dug in his feet and pushed with all his might. He felt it give, lifting just a little. Not much, but hopefully enough.
“I’ve got you.” Vanity also dug in with her dressy heeled sandals, her bare arms straining, her face highlighted by the red glow of the fire. The panicked woman moaned, but Vanity didn’t relent. “Shh, shh,” she said around her efforts. “Almost there. Almost.”
Making not a sound, Stack strained to keep the vehicle in position and just watched, impressed by her, grateful for her lack of hysterics. Sweat popped on his brow and his jaw locked, but he stayed focused on Vanity.
Finally, the woman’s legs cleared the wreckage, and Vanity relaxed. Jerking back, Stack let the vehicle drop forward again. The hot metal scattered sparks that floated into the darkness.
He didn’t trust the situation at all and went right back to work.
“Move to the curb,” he told Vanity. “Now.” Urging her away from the wreckage, Stack took her place, scooping his hands under the woman’s shoulders and, being as careful as he could, dragging her farther away.
Once he felt they were at a safe distance, he shrugged off his now-ruined tux jacket and put it around Vanity’s shoulders.
She’d already knelt by the woman, talking to her, trying to calm her, but she took a second to smile her gratitude.
Stack smoothed her hair, overwhelmed for reasons he couldn’t understand. It wasn’t the wreck or the danger of the situation.
It was Vanity, her quick thinking and her grounded attitude, her fortitude and her ability.
With a loud whoosh, flames consumed the SUV, making Vanity jump and the woman scream anew.
“Stay with her,” he told Vanity, then jogged back for the two men who seemed incapable of thinking clearly. Given his sluggish reactions, the first guy had a severe concussion, or worse, Stack was pretty sure. The blood covering his face probably came from a head wound, but with so much gore he couldn’t be sure. Also looked like he might have a dislocated shoulder and probably a broken leg.
It wasn’t easy to move him without causing him more pain, but he was so out of it he only grunted as Stack put an arm around him and half lifted, half dragged him to the side. He didn’t take him near the women, thinking they might react badly to all the blood.
The other guy—yeah. Only superficial wounds, but flat-out drunk, which probably explained the wreck. Stack urged him a safer distance away, but the idiot didn’t stay put, and he wasn’t about to babysit a drunken fool, not when the others might need help.
Luckily, seconds later, both police and paramedics arrived. While the injured were tended, Stack explained to the cops what he’d found.
“Hang around a minute,” the cop said before he and two others went to talk to the drunken man.
Breathing hard through an adrenaline dump, Stack looked around for Vanity and found her sitting on the curb, his coat wrapped around her like a cape, her face in her hands.
Fresh alarm ripped into him and before he even realized he was moving, he found himself next to her. Parts of her dress were scorched, the material all but melted. Soot blackened her long beautiful hair, now a tangled mess. He saw a small burn on her forearm, maybe where she’d bumped into hot metal.
Heart clenching, he crouched down and took her wrists. “Hey. You okay?”
She resisted his attempt to uncover her face and merely nodded.
“Vanity?”
“I’m sorry. I’m just...rattled.” Her shoulders lifted with a deep breath, but she didn’t come out of hiding.
“Are you hurt?” Had she been burned anywhere else? Maybe pulled a muscle while dragging out the other woman? She was so slim, so delicate and female and—
“I look like a disaster.”
So Vanity was being...vain? He smiled. “Naw.” After smoothing her hair again, he put a finger beneath her chin. “C’mon, darlin’. I need you to look at me now.”
Her hands lowered, and Stack got caught in her big blue eyes, framed with smudged makeup.
He’d expected tears, or at least residual fear. He saw neither.
Tipping her head, she smiled at him. “You only recently started calling me darlin’. Is it because we’re finally going to have sex?”
Behind them, a cop coughed.
Closing his eyes, Stack took a single moment, then stood and faced the officer.
Both worried and amused, the cop said, “She’s okay?”
“She will be.” He’d see to it...not that she appeared to need his help with that.
Coming to her feet, Vanity shook out her skirt, tossed back her hair, adjusted his coat over her shoulders, and gave each guy a direct, rock-steady look. “She can speak for herself, and, yes, she’s fine.”
Chastising them?
The cop coughed again, chagrined.
Putting his arm around her, Stack drew her into his side. Whether Vanity needed it or not wasn’t the point. Not for a second did he miss the way the other man looked at her. He got that. Even slightly singed and badly disheveled, Vanity could bowl a guy over.
But the cop needed to understand that, at least for now, she was taken.
When neither man said anything more, Vanity looked toward the ambulance and the woman being lifted onto a stretcher. Her husband was now at her side, still pretty dazed but much of the blood cleaned away. “That poor lady,” Vanity said when they all heard her crying.
“She says the other driver came around the corner on their side of the road. The headlights blinded them. Guess her husband instinctively tried to veer away, but they got clipped anyway, he lost control, and whatever they hit caused the SUV to roll.”
Stack stared toward the second driver who was now loudly complaining. “Drunk?”
“Totally shit-faced and driving on a suspended license. He’s lucky he didn’t kill someone.” The cop eyed them both but settled on Stack. “Luckier still that you came along. You know, most people run from fire. Not to it.”
Stack tugged at his ear. In all honesty, he hadn’t thought about the fire. He’d seen the wreck, then heard the woman calling out...
“He’s wonderful,” Vanity said and leaned into his side. “The way that woman was pinned down... How badly is she hurt?”
“They’re still looking her over, but I know she has several bad burns, maybe a few breaks.”
“Oh, God,” Vanity whispered.
“She’s alive,” Stack reminded her, and kissed the top of her head. The scent of smoke mixed with the softer scents of woman. He wanted to get her home, as much now to comfort her and ensure she was okay as for the sex they’d both been anticipating for months now. They needed showers, and he wanted to check the burn mark on her arm.
More vehicles pulled up, including a news crew complete with mics and cameras.
“And the circus begins,” the cop complained. “Get ready for an interview.”
The last thing he wanted. Given how Vanity had stiffened, she felt the same. “Mind if we skip out on that?”
Nodding in understanding, the cop tapped a notepad to his thigh. “I have your info. I’ll be in touch if I need anything else.”
“Thanks.” Avoiding eye contact with the reporters, Stack got Vanity moving.
In a whisper, she said, “I feel so conspicuous in this dress with your tux jacket. I hope they don’t notice us.”
Nice to know she wasn’t one of those people who preened for attention. Stack opened her door and got her in, taking one quick look to see two reporters clustered around the injured woman and her husband.
They got out of there before anyone tried to talk to them.
For five minutes they rode in silence. Using his coat like a blanket, Vanity tried to smooth her hair, lifted the skirt of her dress and grimaced, then turned down the visor mirror and blew out a breath at her reflection. “I’m wrecked.”
“And brave.”
“Mostly wrecked.” She flipped the visor back up. “What that nice officer said? It’s true. You literally ran right up to that fire. You didn’t know if the car would explode—”
“Cars don’t explode. Or at least, not very often. What you see in movies is just for drama.” She still looked shaken, so he tried to reassure her with bland facts. “The wreck probably sheared the fuel line. Totaled as that SUV was, I’m guessing some metal might’ve punctured the gas tank, too. Hard to know what happened, but once everything catches fire, yeah, it can look like an explosion.”
She leveled a look on him. “You’re debating semantics. It was dangerous. Very dangerous.”
“And you were right there.” He white-knuckled the steering wheel, still hating how close she’d gotten to that danger. “I thought you were going to stay in the car.”
“If you hadn’t needed my help, I would have.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not great in a crisis.”
“That’s a joke, right?” When she just stared at him, he added, “You were perfect. Steady, calm.” He thought of how she’d struggled to get the woman free, and added, “Strong.”
“So why are you frowning?”
“You could have been hurt.”
Her brows went up. “You were worried about me?”
Stack didn’t answer that. Did she really find that idea so surprising?
“Ahhh...” Vanity stroked his shoulder. “You were. That is so sweet.”
Annoying, but what he noticed most was the continued trembling of her hand. She put up a good front, but obviously she had been affected.
He chanced a glance at her, then at the time on the dash. One in the morning. It choked him, but he knew he had to make a noble offer. He had to be considerate.
He had to be fucking sweet.
His balls protested, but he made himself say, “Listen, it’s late, and things have gone sideways. If you need some time, we can put this off—”
“What?” Rearing back, for the first time looking truly upset, Vanity watched him. “You’re backing out on me?”
“No.” Hell, no. “We’re definitely getting together. I’m just saying, if you’re hurt or upset, it doesn’t have to be tonight.”
Her eyes flashed at him. Leaning toward him, her voice firm, she growled, “Yes, Stack Hannigan, it does!”
