A Perfect Storm(50)

Spencer straightened. They stared at each other. "I'm sorry. I forgot."

Her mouth tightened, but she nodded. "It's okay."

No, it wasn't, but the bell sounded again. "I was only going to kiss you."

Suddenly bounding up and over the bed to land in front of him, she  grabbed his face for a hard kiss. "I'm sorry I … reacted. Now go. But  hurry back. If you're gone long at all, my imagination is going to  really tick me off."

That made him grin. He left the room before he changed his mind and didn't go at all. That would be unkind to Marla.

* * *

THE SECOND HE CLEARED the room, Arizona dropped back on the bed with a  groan. Why did she have to act like a putz just because Spencer tried to  kiss her? God, she despised her own weaknesses. She knew without a  shadow of a doubt that he would never physically hurt her.

But deep down, in places where reason didn't exist, it didn't matter.  Some fears remained, and they gnawed at her peace of mind, keeping her  from true freedom.                       
       
           



       

Disgusted with herself, she lay there in the bed for a minute before  jumping up to creep down the hallway, going far enough to listen in.

Sadly, she couldn't hear a thing other than the soft drone of voices. Definitely Marla-not that she'd had a doubt.

Did Spencer still want that woman? Did he have fond memories of his time  with her? Lustful memories? For certain, Marla didn't go fleeing the  bed in a panic over a kiss.

Marla, damn her, would not have hang-ups that limited what Spencer could do.

Turning to face the wall, Arizona clunked her head once, then stalked  into the bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror, but her frown  looked the same, as did her eyes, mouth, nose. And other than a few  whisker burns here and there, and a possible hickey on her neck, her  body didn't look any different, either.

She touched the interesting passion bruise on her neck and went all soft and mushy again.

Man, oh, man, Spencer knew how to play it in the sack. The guy had some serious skills. With his mouth, his hands.

Skills he'd used with other women.

How had Marla put it? If you'd ever had him, you'd feel differently about having him again.

Yeah, she got that.

Now.

Because she definitely wanted him again.

But what did she know about hanging on to a guy? Before Spencer, she'd  just wanted men to keep their distance. Shoot, she would have kicked  their butts to ensure they didn't get too close. Well, except for  Jackson, but that was different. She and Jackson were … friends. Almost  like family.

But not exactly.

Now, with Spencer, she wanted to get as close as two people could get.

Sure, he'd seemed content enough with their little go-around in the  sack. But Spencer had told her all along that he wanted to normalize  her-her words, not his-and that once she got over her hang-ups, he  intended to send her packing off to some other nameless, faceless dude.

Arizona curled her lip. Not happening. No other guy appealed to her like  he did. If forced to it, she could screw another guy, and she'd survive  it just as she always had.

But she would never crave another man the way she craved Spencer.

She wouldn't enjoy anyone else like she did Spencer. She snorted. Enjoy. What a wimpy word for how she'd felt.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Arizona thought of all the ways he  excited her senses. She loved looking at him. The man had a seriously  hard, sexy body. He was so damned big. All over. And his body  hair … fascinating. It added to his manliness, not that he needed any help  with that. He was so macho, he could define the word.

Breathing in his hot scent made her tingly all over. Other than noticing  unpleasant odors, like sweat and alcohol, she'd never paid attention to  a man's aroma. But Spencer smelled so delicious that she practically  hyperventilated when near him, because she kept breathing deep, filling  her lungs with him.

Oh, and his taste …  A flock of butterflies rioted in her stomach with  just the memory of his kiss, the stroke of his damp tongue, the heat of  his mouth. Knowing how good his sleek flesh tasted under her tongue, she  wondered about tasting him everywhere. Maybe, once she got more used to  him, she'd give it a go. Would Spencer like that? She snorted again.

All guys liked the pleasure of a woman's mouth.

But most of all, she really, really loved touching him. All over. With her hands, her mouth. Sliding her body over his-

The unexpected peal of her cell phone nearly stopped her heart.

Good grief, she'd been totally immersed in a stand-up, vivid, hot-and-bothered fantasy. All about Spencer.

A guy she'd just had sex with and who was, at this very moment, standing  in his doorway wearing nothing but jeans, showing off his awesome bod  while chatting with Marla, a woman who'd shared his bed.

Bleh. She'd have to visualize stomping them both later. Right now, she  had to answer her phone. Because her separate phones had distinctive  rings, she knew it was a social call. But because she had few enough  people who ever called her, she assumed Jackson wanted to make sure she  wouldn't back out of the visit today.

She managed to find her purse and dig out the correct cell on the fourth ring.

Without checking the caller ID, she said, "What's up?"

"Candy?"

Oh, no. No way.

Luckily the bed was right there, because her backside landed on it before she'd even realized her knees were bending. "Yes?"

"It's Quin."

No reply came to mind.

"From the Green Goose."

Her tongue felt thick when she said, "Quinto?"

"You gave me this number. On a note, in my pocket. Last night. Do you remember?"

Yeah, now she remembered. But until she'd heard his voice, she'd forgotten all about that. What did the call mean?                       
       
           



       

And what the hell had she been thinking?

"I am sorry to bother you," Quin said with strained apology. "You were drinking, so you probably do not-"

Thoughts scrambling, Arizona interrupted him, anxious to keep him on the  phone. "No, it's fine. I'm glad to hear from you." Trying for  cheerfulness to cover her shock, wishing she could order her memories so  that they made sense, she asked stupidly, "What's up, Quin?"

Audible breathing, along with a lot of hesitation, filled her ear.  "Since I will not be able to see you at the bar again, I wanted to thank  you."

Her mouth went dry as dust. Think, Arizona, think.

She cleared her throat. "Why wouldn't you see me?" Oh, God, that sounded  lame, not at all convincing. But was she supposed to know of the raid?  Should she remain undercover? Hadn't Dare busted that whole gig wide  open?

Think, think, think.

Hoping for inspiration, she said, "Maybe you don't know, but I got hired to work there. I report in tonight."

She heard some shuffling, as if he'd muffled the phone, or his groan, then Quin whispered, "No, you do not."

"Why not?" Somehow she knew, absolutely knew, that Quin was in big trouble.

"The police came, with others. You were a part of that, right?"

"The police?" She'd drunk so much that she couldn't recall if she was  supposed to be aware of the raid or not. Rubbing her forehead, she  asked, "What are you talking about?"

Hadn't she and Spencer covered their connection even then? Or, no,  wait-they'd sort of fought together against a few of the rowdier drunks.  Joel had been there, but far as she could remember, he hadn't gotten  hurt. Spencer's bimbo had already split, so she hadn't been around.

But Terry Janes … no, she hadn't come across him again. She hadn't seen  Carl, either-not until he tried jumping her in the alley outside the  bar.

She had no memory of Quin being about at all.

"The raid that shut down the bar?" Quin prompted. "You were with the  artist, and with Mr. Janes. There was a fight, and then the police  came."

Oh, God. She didn't know whether to trust him or not. He sounded like  Quin, but the boy she'd met had been almost silent. She couldn't imagine  him calling her for a chat.

After chewing her lip, Arizona asked, "Is this really you, Quin?"

Flat, with no inflection at all, he replied, "Who else would it be?"

If only she had a few minutes to think, or if she'd anticipated this-but  she'd gone straight from waking, to wanting Spencer, to indulging her  first full-participant carnal encounter-with no time for configuring  various scenarios about her performance of the night before. "I don't  know. What happened to Joel? Did he get hurt in the fight?"

"I can not say."

"What about Terry Janes?"

"Again, I do not know."

She chewed her lips, weighing his answers, trying to find the truth in them.

At her continued silence, he asked, "You did not want me to call you?"

"Sure I did." But the circumstances had all changed. She didn't need to  get closer to him now, because thanks to Dare, it was shut down.  Permanently.