THE SECOND SHE DISAPPEARED into the bathroom, Spencer let out a breath.
The girl packed a wallop of major proportions.
After turning on her television for background noise, he sprawled out on the bed with a groan.
He’d kissed her palm, that’s all. But he’d heard her accelerated breathing, felt her excited trembling, and he’d wanted so badly to devour her. Head to toes and—oh, God—everywhere in between.
That skimpy little towel…what the hell was he thinking, to postpone her getting dressed? When had he become such a masochist?
But he knew. Ever since first meeting Arizona, he’d put himself through hell, wanting to be with her but refusing to take advantage of her vulnerability by pushing for sexual satisfaction. If she was any other woman, he’d have already done his utmost to charm her into bed.
She had such incredibly beautiful, shapely legs.
He scrubbed his hands over his face, but still he saw those sleek muscles, her soft thighs and skin the color of rich honey.
Even her feet looked sexy to him, being small and narrow with a high arch. And those adorable knees…God, he had it bad.
Resisting her in shorts was one thing; at least last night she’d immediately covered up with the throw. Today, in the bright light of day, in a small room mostly dominated by a bed, ignoring the insubstantial covering of a small towel was impossible.
Shit. He adjusted his jeans and concentrated on getting himself under control. Her unique brand of honesty and curiosity would be the death of him.
And thinking about her, about her body, wasn’t helping with his erection. He needed to concentrate on something else—like that forbidding array of weapons in her trunk. Or her God-awful propensity for courting danger.
While slipping out the door behind her today, staying far enough back that she didn’t see him, but close enough that he didn’t lose her, he’d called Trace, who was very unhappy to know she’d given Spencer the slip.
With her car out of commission and Spencer keeping tabs on her, Trace had assumed she’d be safe. And he knew Arizona, so he understood the daunting responsibility put on Spencer. But Trace had wanted to ramp up the surveillance on her, and he’d wanted to have a firm discussion with her.
Knowing Arizona wouldn’t appreciate either of those things, Spencer had assured Trace that one way or another, he would get her back to his house, and somehow he’d find a way to keep her there for the duration of this investigation and bust.
But if he didn’t—
The bathroom door opened in a rush, shattering his thoughts. Hair wet, wearing only snug, low-riding jeans and a ribbed camisole, Arizona stepped back into the bedroom. Judging by her expression and stomping stride, she’d had no problem collecting herself.
Sighing, Spencer sat up. Through the thin material of her top, he could see every curve of her breasts and the plump outline of her nipples. His mouth went dry.
She stopped beside the bed, her hands on her hips. “All right, Spencer, some ground rules.”
He looked up at her angry face. “Number one, you stay with me.”
Her open mouth snapped shut. After blinking twice, she shook her head. “No, number one is that you back off a little.”
“We made a deal,” he reminded her.
Anger left her cheeks a dusky rose. “I wasn’t talking about that. I was talking about you following me—”
“Overruled.” Glad that she wasn’t protesting his kiss, he stood, crowding into the narrow space she’d allotted between the bed and her body. “You either stay with me, or I wash my hands of the whole thing and you can deal with the dynamic trio instead.”
She stared at him, and her mouth twitched. “Dynamic trio?”
Keeping his attention off her chest was a trial. “Whatever you want to call them. You know they’ll be hovering over you way worse than I do.”
“Yeah.” She chewed the side of her mouth. “They’ll smother me.”
And he was counting on her to hate that. “Exactly.”
She propped a hand on the nightstand, drummed her fingers. “You’d actually do that to me?”
“To ensure you stayed safe?” He’d move heaven and earth. “In a heartbeat.”
She drummed some more. “They’re going to be on top of things now anyway.”
He wouldn’t lie to her by denying that. “But if you allow me to shadow you, they’ll be in the background, not breathing down your neck. Take today, for instance. If Trace hadn’t known that I would follow you, one of them would have. And you’d be having a whole different conversation right about now.”
The drumming stopped. “With no kissing.”
Had she enjoyed it? Or was she still fighting her reactions? “Given that two of them are married and the other engaged, probably not.”
She laughed. “Probably not?”
“They’re good men, honorable men,” Spencer admitted. There was no question of that. But when it came to Arizona… He shrugged. “You’re hard to resist.”
She eyed him up and down—and took a step back. “Jackson resisted me just fine.”
God, he did not want to hear this again. Why did she keep bringing it up? Was she infatuated with Jackson beyond the platonic? Thinking that left him churning with a dangerous mix of emotions. “Let’s stick to the point. To make things simpler on me and on yourself, you need to stay with me until we sort things out at the bar.”
Pacing away, she appeared to think about it. “Your couch is comfortable.”
“I told you that you could use the guest room.”
Her shoulder lifted. “You don’t want me on the couch?”
Now what was this about? Spencer crossed his arms. “I don’t mind if you sleep there, but why would you want to when you can set up your own room? You can make yourself at home in there.” And in case she worried about it, he added, “While you’re with me, I won’t push you to do anything you don’t want to do—except kiss me when you curse.”
She shot him a dirty look. “I won’t slip up again.”
“I’ll give you as much freedom as I can. I’ll stay out of your hair. But if you go anywhere, I need to know. No more running off by yourself. Period.”
She paced again, head down, hands on hips. When she returned to him, she nodded. “All right, fine.”
He launched into the next demand. “Make no plans without me. None. We’re either working together on this, or we’re not working at all.”
“Sure, fine. Ditto back atcha.”
Being reasonable? Doubtful, so he didn’t bother to commit himself to the same rule. “Tell me why you have so many weapons in your trunk.”
Without missing a beat, she said, “I like to live.”
That blunt answer threw him. “You need a shovel to live?”
Her chin lifted. “You know why I need that.”
Yes, he probably did, but he badly wanted to be wrong. “Enlighten me.”
“If I have to kill anyone, I’ll need to bury them.”
Oh, God. Spencer dropped back to sit on the bed. He shouldn’t have asked.
Arizona, damn her, laughed. “Oh, lighten up, Spence. I was just funnin’ ya.”
“Funning me?” Anger stirred as he glared at her. “You think it’s funny to joke about murder?”
“Sometimes, yeah. Depends on the murder victim, right?” She strolled around the room like a caged tiger. “I carry the shovel for lots of reasons. In case I get my car stuck in mud, in case I have to use my knife and need to hide it.” She shrugged. “It’s an all-purpose, handy tool.”
Skeptical, he said, “You don’t plan to kill anyone?”
“Didn’t say that.” Her face went carefully blank. “If someone needs killing, if I need to defend myself or someone else—”
“I’ll do it.” He was trained, he was a man, and…he wanted to shield her from as much ugliness as he could.
“I don’t need you to. I can fend for myself.”
But she didn’t have to, not anymore. More firmly, to make sure she understood, he said, “If it comes to that, if the situation turns that violent, I will be the one to handle things.”
Her chest rose with agitated breaths. “Just like you killed Chandra Silverman, even though it was my right?”
They’d already debated who had more right in that regard. But he knew his actions concerning the evil organizer of a human trafficking ring had veered from wanting revenge for the death of his wife to concern for Arizona.
She deserved to regain a normal outlook on life, not add to the nasty memories by chalking up a kill—even against someone who deserved death as much as Chandra had. She might not realize it, but it wouldn’t give her closure. It’d only darken her dreams more.
Given Arizona’s livid expression, she didn’t agree. Spencer stood and walked to her. “Just calm down for a minute.”
That damned pointy finger of hers poked hard into his chest again. “You calm down!”
He grabbed her hand. “That’s enough.”
She strained against his hold, then gave up to lean into him with her ire. “It’s one thing for you to play the White Knight, but if you think you have the stones to change me, forget it.”
“Change you how?” That he still held her hand—and she allowed it—surprised and pleased him. More gently now, he enfolded her fingers in his own and, drawing her closer, held them against his chest. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen violence. I’ve lived it. And I can take a hit as easy as the next guy.”
Over his dead body. “You’re not a guy.” She was a small, susceptible female—and he couldn’t bear the thought of her being physically injured.
“Doesn’t matter. Now that I’m free, I plan to stay on the delivery end of things.”
“Doling out retribution?”
Her jaw locked. “I will do what I think is right. What is best. You can either help, or you can stay out of my way.”
No, she wouldn’t get rid of him that easily. “I’m here to help, remember?” He moved his thumb over her taut knuckles, hoping to quiet her. She could make a credible fist, but she lacked the power necessary to fend for herself against brutal men, especially the immoral breed of flesh peddlers. “That’s why we need some ground rules.”
“I agreed to your stupid rules already.”
True enough. And since he wouldn’t let her out of his sight, he could keep her from using most of those weapons. Most. “What do you carry on you?”
Understanding the question, she relaxed a little. “Depends on where I go. Usually a knife, pepper spray and stun baton. The baton is telescopic, so it can fit in my purse.”
She indicated the big slouch purse that looked liked it could hold the kitchen sink. “Incredible.”
Shrugging, she added, “If I’m blending in but still want a gun, I carry the little Beretta Bobcat. It’s easy to hide. And if I don’t have to conceal things, then I carry my Glock, maybe my rifle, too. And I wear my vest. If I’m on night surveillance, I have these cool night-vision goggles that come in handy. They weren’t cheap, but they’re worth the cost.”
Fully armed and protected, like a damned trooper. “What did you plan to carry tonight?”
“Not much, since my new clothes won’t make it easy.” After freeing her hand, she went to her duffel bag and withdrew a wicked switchblade. She pressed a button, and it snapped open. But closed again, the profile was slim and would be easy to hide in the bottom of her purse. “It’s not my favorite, but it’ll do.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and surveyed her. “What is your favorite?”
Animated, she took out a leather sheath and slid free a big, dangerous knife. The fluorescent overhead light glimmered on the blade as she turned it this way and that. “My baby.”
His heart grew heavy at the sight of the weapon. The fixed blade tactical knuckle knife wasn’t a utility knife by any stretch of the imagination. It wouldn’t be used for a quick defense. No, it was for attacking, and it would cause a lot of damage if used against someone—or if turned against the owner.
“She’s a real beauty, isn’t she?”
He tried to be suitably interested, rather than appalled. “Stainless steel, tanto-point. Nonreflective black powder coating.”
“Yup.” Arizona fit the handle over her fingers like brass knuckles. “Comfortable, too.” She turned her hand, her hold secure, familiar.
Spencer grunted a reply.
Glancing at him, she said, “I have a nylon harness that gives me easy access but keeps it hidden until I want to show it.” She grinned. “Sometimes that’s all it takes. Most guys see this, and they back off.”
Muscles coiling at her boast, he drew a steadying breath. “Sometimes?”
“Other times…” she returned the knife to the sheath and put it in back in her bag “…we battle. But for someone who knows how to use it, a knife is a terrific equalizer, so don’t sweat it, okay?”
Fury stole his common sense and cool control. Her cavalier attitude defied belief. Sure, she might be able to hold her own against a man if he was drunk enough, dumb enough or completely unschooled. But for her to think, even for a single second, that she could keep a thug from turning that lethal blade back on her…
Seemingly unaware of his fury, she withdrew a catalogue. “Know what I really want?” She thumbed through the catalogue until she reached a dog-eared page. Coming to stand by him, practically leaning into his side, she pointed out a costly, custom knife. “Isn’t it cool?”
Spencer only half heard her as she waxed on about bead blasted, anodized titanium handles, double thumb openers and pivot screws.
Chagrined, he dropped down to sit on the side of the bed. “You know your knives.”
“I know most weapons,” she agreed as she sat down beside him. “But knives are my favorite.”
And the knife she favored most was one he’d already purchased for himself. The irony leveled him; love of a quality blade was one more thing they had in common.
“Soon as I can save up enough coin, I’m going to get it.”
The contrasts left Spencer reeling. She sat beside him, young and, at the moment—while discussing weapons—very sweet. She was so intrinsically female, her face animated and her tone light…but she talked about buying a highly lethal weapon that, if pressed, she would use against a deadly goon.
Her thigh touched his. Her intoxicating scent filled his head.
And she wanted to debate who had the right to vengeance.
Determined to set her straight, he drew her back up to her feet, his hands on her shoulders, his expression stern—and his cell phone rang.
Damn. He waffled—but he knew he couldn’t ignore it.
Shifting away from him, she lifted a brow. “Expecting a call?”
“Not really.” Spencer glanced at the caller ID and saw it was Trace. Frustrated at the interruption, he answered with a succinct, “I’ll call you right back.”
Without a single question, Trace said, “Meet me downstairs instead.” And he disconnected.
Well, hell. Definitely interrupted. “Sorry.”
Arizona’s eyes narrowed.
Spencer ignored her curiosity to say, “We need to get some dinner before we start tonight.”
She transferred her gaze from his face to the phone in his hand and back to his face—but she didn’t press him for info. “Dinner before we head to a bar and grill?”
His blood ran cold. Again. “God Almighty, Arizona. Tell me you don’t eat there.”
Batting her eyes at him, she said, “You think they might poison me?”
How the hell had she survived so long? “Poison you, no. At the moment they don’t want you dead. But drug you? Yes.”
“Yeah, well, for the purposes they’d intend, the two would be about the same.” She sniffed. “But no, I don’t eat there.” And then with added vitriol, “Give me some credit, will you?”
Knowing she’d just tweaked him again, Spencer growled. “Can you ever give me a straight answer?”
“Sure, and yes, we need to eat. I’m up for a burger if you are.”
“How much time do you need to get ready?”
Now that she’d blown his cool, she smiled. “Twenty minutes, give or take a few.” She indicated her face. “Gotta do it up a little to make sure I get attention.”
She’d get attention no matter what. On top of an incredible body and breathtaking face, she had enough attitude and presence to turn heads wherever she went. She breathed, and anyone with a dick would notice. “Will you promise to meet me downstairs when you’re done?”
“Cross my heart.”
He looked into her eyes, believed her, then bent and put a kiss to her forehead. “Kiss number two,” he told her.
“Oh.” She looked dumbfounded for only a moment. “Well…good. Glad to have that out of the way.”
Just to prove a point, he kissed her once more, his mouth lingering against her temple. He breathed in the soft, clean scent of her, letting his nose touch her damp hair as he absorbed her near-electric vitality.
He had Trace waiting downstairs…and maybe that was a good thing. At the very least, it served as a deterrent.
As he ended the kiss and walked away, she remained rooted to the spot. Satisfied with that reaction, Spencer opened the door and said over his shoulder, “Don’t keep me waiting.”
* * *
TAKING HIS TIME, Trace studied the motel that Arizona had chosen, making special note of each egress, including any windows that opened. He prowled the perimeter, scrutinizing the lighting, the nearby establishments, the ambiance, the traffic—and he had to admit, she had good instincts.
He circled back around to the lobby entrance to meet up with Jackson, who’d done his own surveillance. He found him standing just outside the front doors, smiling, lost in thought—no doubt about his impending nuptials.
He’d tried to leave Jackson behind, but given his close association with Arizona, Trace wasn’t surprised that Jackson had insisted on coming along.
Though Trace hadn’t wanted to admit it, he actually liked Jackson, and truthfully, it relieved him that Alani was not only in love, but with a man who could keep her safe.
Smiling, Trace clapped Jackson on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble forward.
“What the hell?” Jackson regained his balance and scowled.
“You came along to work, so clear your head, why don’t you?”
“It’s clear.” Jackson’s scowl lifted, and he grinned. “’Cept for when I’m thinking of my beautiful bride-to-be.”
“Which is apparently all the time.” Trace watched a couple head into the motel, made note of another man departing.
“Lucky for you,” Jackson said, “I can multitask.”
Together, they stepped into the lobby. “So what do you think?”
Jackson shrugged. “It’s a place I’d have chosen for myself.”
“Same here.”
“I told you, Arizona’s not a slouch in the mental works. But physically, she’s still a bitty female with more brass than strength.”
“Spencer is keeping a close eye on her.”
Jackson snorted with ill humor. “Yeah, I just bet he is.”
Hmm. Trace studied him. “It bothers you that he’s interested?” Not that Jackson should be surprised. Most single men would be sniffing around Arizona, and probably a lot of unfaithful married men.
“Not at all—unless he hurts her.”
“And if he does?”
“I’ll take him apart.” On that foul note, Jackson stalked away to peruse the interior hallways, the restrooms, the vending machine alcoves.
Trace watched him go. Since Jackson and Arizona didn’t share a blood tie, it wasn’t quite the same as what he’d felt when Jackson began chasing after his sister, Alani. But close enough to fill him with satisfaction.
The satisfaction was short-lived.
Would Spencer inadvertently hurt Arizona? What she’d gone through had left her emotionally brittle, but even the most thorough digging hadn’t uncovered anything in Spencer’s background to show him as less than a principled man. Knowing him now, Trace recognized the protectiveness Spencer felt for Arizona, and for anyone else in need.
He was a decent man, a capable defender, and sadly, since his wife’s murder over three years ago, he remained free of commitments. If he did choose to pursue Arizona, Trace had to believe he planned to go slowly and carefully.
But Arizona…well, she could tempt a saint, and no one in Spencer’s profession, with his lethal background, would ever be mistaken for such.
Luckily, Arizona’s trauma hadn’t stifled her independence or her ability to speak her mind. If she didn’t return Spencer’s interest, she’d let him know.
And Spencer would respect that.
Trace trusted that they were both adults and could decide their own relationship. But to be on the safe side, he planned to have a little talk with Spencer anyway.
* * *
WHEN HE GOT DOWN to the motel entrance, Spencer found Jackson standing there, frightening the locals. They walked a wide birth around him, and Jackson, pretending to be inebriated, gave them plenty of reason for caution.
So that was his cover? Figured he’d come up with something that allowed him to act goofy. Jackson was one hell of a fighter, with razor-sharp reflexes and an amazing intuition. But he was also low-key, laid-back, and irreverent—which made him the polar opposite of Dare and Trace.
Trace had the vibe of a keen businessman with a deadly edge. He was a driving force that couldn’t be reined in—and no smart person would even try. He wasn’t cocky like Jackson, but he carried himself with subdued self-assurance, and an acute awareness of his own capability.
Dare, who he’d met a few times now, was quieter, very matter-of-fact and relaxed about his ability. He didn’t say a lot, and he didn’t need to.
Spencer liked them all. The more he learned of their operations, the better he got to know them, the more he approved of their methods and respected their influence.
Obviously Jackson didn’t want anyone to notice him sizing up escape routes. Shaking his head, Spencer looked around for Trace. He stood with his back to the stairs, gazing out at the parking lot. Trace seemed less concerned about being observed, almost disdainful of his surroundings.
Bypassing Jackson, Spencer headed toward Trace instead.
He knew Trace was aware of him, had probably seen his reflection in the big window, so he led off with, “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Trace continued to watch the lot. “What’d you tell Arizona?”
“Nothing.”
That brought him around. “She doesn’t know why you walked out on her?”
“She was getting ready.” He propped a shoulder on the wall. “Giving her privacy is what any gentleman would do.”
“And you’re always a gentleman with her?”
His brows bunched down over the way Trace asked that. “That’s why you’re here? Is that some sort of inquisition on my intentions?”
The slightest of smiles belied any menace. “I doubt you know your intentions at this point.”
That infuriated Spencer. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
The smile turned into a grin. “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Damn it, he’d left Arizona’s room in a good mood—which Trace had quickly shot to hell.
Trace shook off his humor. “She didn’t ask you where you were going or who had called?”
“She hesitates to pry too much.” Then, recalling her interrogation about sex, Spencer rethought that. “Or maybe it’s just that she’s selective in how and when she pries.”
Trace accepted that with a nod.
With growing suspicion and tension, Spencer asked, “You want to tell me why you’re here?” Trace surely had a better reason for seeking him out than idle curiosity.
“She ran out on you today.”
The hell she had! He didn’t appreciate the way Trace worded that. “She had some shopping to do, that’s all.”
“She left without telling you first.”
“She’s independent. You know that.” Spencer worked his jaw. “I told you I had it under control.”
“You should understand something, Spencer.”
Oh, he understood all right. This was a warning. “I’m listening.”
“Jackson has accepted Arizona as family, with Alani’s blessing. Priss and Molly like her and empathize with her situation, as do Dare and I.” His gaze never wavered from Spencer’s. “She’s one of us now.”
One of us? It was the tone more than the message that had Spencer’s temper on edge. “Meaning?”
“Meaning with or without you, we’ll protect her.”
That sounded far too close to a threat, and Spencer straightened from the wall. His shoulders bunched, and his jaw clenched. “You think I can’t? Or won’t?”
“I think men in lust sometimes let the wrong head make the decisions.”
Jackson joined them to say, “Amen to that.” He pointed to Spencer’s crotch. “No thinking with the gonads.”
Finding the warnings insulting—even if a little true—Spencer scowled. “Is this a case of do as I say, not as I do?”
Trace said, “No.”
Jackson said, “Mmm…maybe.”
On a grievous sigh, Trace shook his head. “Ignore Jackson. He’s known to embrace gluttony.”
Leaning in, Jackson whispered loud enough for Trace to hear, “He means in bed, but since I’m marrying his sister, he doesn’t want to go into details.”
And just like that, the mood lightened. Spencer rested against the wall to watch the ensuing exchange between the two men.
Trace glared. “You did get her pregnant.”
“Yeah.” Jackson sighed theatrically. “And knowing she’s carrying my baby just makes her sexier.”
Trace rudely stepped in front of Jackson, crowding him out, to address Spencer again. “For now, I’m willing to let you handle things with Arizona.”
“Gee, thanks.” He didn’t bother telling Trace that he had no intention of butting out, regardless of what any of them said about it.
“Hey,” Jackson said, his humor dwindling. “Don’t I get a vote on this?”
“You’ve done enough,” Trace told him.
Jackson opened his mouth—then grinned and closed it.
Back to Spencer, Trace added, “You can keep her safe by keeping her close. That works for me.”
“It works for me, too,” Jackson told him. “Close is good.”
Trace spoke over Jackson. “But if Arizona decides she doesn’t like that setup, then you’re out.”
He’d almost gotten distracted with the byplay between Trace and Jackson. Now he snapped back to attention. “I’ll decide when I’m done, not you.”
“Wrong.” Jackson aligned himself with Trace. “Arizona makes that decision. And we’ll be backing her up.”
“Stay on her good side,” Trace warned. “Or stay away from her.”
“Won’t be easy.” Jackson shook his head in sympathy. “She can be pretty…trying. But you better not lose your patience with her. If you think you might, best to cut out now.”
Spencer went rigid. Screw their ability and far-reaching influence. He made his own decisions, and he would be the one to decide when and if to walk away from Arizona. “You don’t dictate to me.”
“So you are planning to sleep with her?” Trace asked.
That pulled him up short. “None of your damn business.”
Jackson folded his arms. “Course he is.” He glanced toward Trace. “He’s a guy. And Arizona is…well—”
“Not easy to resist,” Spencer said through his teeth. “Believe me, I know. But I’m a thirty-two-year-old man, and she’s not only been through hell, she’s barely an adult.”
Trace leveled a look on him. “So you have only altruistic motives in this? You’re shadowing her out of concern for another human being, nothing more?”
He said again, “None of your goddamned business.”
Neither of them was fazed by his growing temper.
Jackson tilted his head to study Spencer. “You took it upon yourself to partner up with her.”
Of all the… “She came to me,” he reminded them. “You already know that.”
“So if she hadn’t,” Jackson said, “you wouldn’t have seen her again?”
Damn it, he would not be cornered by either of them. “We’ve crossed paths a few times.”
“Because of Arizona. It’s not like you went after her, did you?”
He hadn’t needed to, not when every time he saw one of the guys, Arizona somehow happened to be there. But he’d be damned before he continued to explain himself to them. He set his jaw and stepped forward—
“Break it up, girls. You’re drawing attention.” Arizona elbowed her way in past Jackson and Trace to stand directly in front of Spencer, facing him with a scowl. “You’re going to give yourself wrinkles.”
At his first glimpse of her, Spencer’s brain went blank. “Oh, my God.”
Hands on her hips, she turned a circle and eyed them all in turn. “You guys picked a heck of a public locale to compare dick sizes, don’t you think?”
Ignoring the crude words, Trace tracked his gaze over her, and then slowly closed his eyes.
“Damn, girl.” Jackson stripped off his jacket and tried to stuff Arizona into it. It left his gun exposed, but that wasn’t as bad as Arizona drawing so much attention.
And given her outfit, her hair and makeup, she could do nothing else.
Gone were the jeans in favor of a short—really short—faded denim miniskirt. A low-plunging black tank made a bra impossible and emphasized the round firmness of her substantial breasts. Little strappy sandals and big hoop earrings completed the outfit. But she hadn’t stopped there. Her pale blue eyes were a dominant feature on her, and now, with her lush lashes layered in black mascara and her lips a glossy pink, she looked…like a walking wet dream.
Spencer scanned the area around them and saw that they had, in fact, drawn attention. “We need to move. Now.”
Trace growled a complaint as Arizona fought Jackson’s efforts to conceal her. “This is going to be a cluster-fuck of the first order.”
Arizona stopped struggling to say, “If I can’t cuss, you can’t, either.”
And Spencer finally pulled himself together. “Did you leave anything in the room?”
She lifted the duffel, laptop case and her purse. “I didn’t see any reason to come back here after we eat, so I’ve got it all here and in the trunk of my car.”
That meant she didn’t have much. He frowned as he took the case from her, but knew he’d have to figure out the lack of personal possessions later. “We’ll head to dinner now.” After wresting the duffel away from her, too, he turned to Trace. “Could you—”
“Check her out, yeah. Don’t worry about it. Get her well away from here before you stop to eat, though.”
“Better still,” Jackson said, looking everywhere as if expecting hordes of men to descend on her, “take her through a drive-thru and eat in your car.”
Clustered around her, shielding her from sight as much as they could, the men led her out of the motel and toward Spencer’s truck.
“Stop shoving!” Arizona complained and pushed back against Jackson.
Spencer inserted himself between them. He didn’t like Jackson cozying up so close to her. Besides, Arizona was usually more reasonable with him.
Near to her ear, he said, “Hustle it up, honey. In case anyone comes looking for you later, the less notice we get, the better.”
She dutifully marched ahead but continued to grouse. “You guys are the ones causing a scene.”
“You aren’t that naive,” Trace told her.
“Never said I was,” she snapped right back.
“Then you know how you look.”
At the passenger side of the truck, she turned and gave Trace a sultry look. “So I was successful?”
Trace and Jackson both stared at her. At all of her.
“For the love of…” Spencer opened the door and lifted her inside. “Knock it off, Arizona.” He knew neither man wanted to ogle her, but she made it pretty hard not to, especially when she struck a sexy pose.
After slamming the door again, Spencer told them, “I’ll check in later.” He circled around the hood, got behind the wheel and drove off. He didn’t look back—and he did his best not to look at Arizona, either.