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Authors: Lori Foster
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Armie. “Any predictions on how she feels about me?”
“Wow.” The door jumped, meaning Armie had probably just propped his shoulder against it. “Hasn’t told you yet, huh?”
“No.”
“Cruel, Harper,” he chastised her. “Really cruel. And here I thought you were one of those nice girls.”
Lips quivering, eyes big and liquid, she stared up at him. “I love you,” she whispered.
“Me or Gage?” Armie asked with facetious good humor.
Harper kicked the door hard with her heel, and Armie said, “Ow, damn it. Fine. I’m leaving. But, Gage, you have the keys so I can’t lock up until—”
“Five minutes.”
“And there go my illusions again.”
The quiet settled around them. They watched each other. Gage did some touching, too. But what the hell, Harper was mostly naked, looking at him with a wealth of emotion.
“I should get dressed.”
“You should tell me again that you love me.”
“I do. So much, ” Harper added with feeling. “I have for such a long time.”
Nice. “The things you do to me...” He fumbled around along the wall beside the door and finally located the light switch.
She flinched away at first, but Harper wasn’t shy. God knew she had no reason to be.
Putting her shoulders back, her chin up, she let him look. And what a sight she made with her jeans down below her knees and her shirt gone. He cupped her right breast—and saw a light sprinkling of freckles decorating her fair skin.
“Let’s go,” he whispered. “I want to take you home and look for more freckles.”
That made her snicker. As she pulled up her jeans, she said, “I don’t really have that many.”
“Don’t ruin it for me. I’ll find out for myself.”
By the time they left the room, only Armie, Stack and Denver were still hanging around.
With his arm around Harper, Gage asked, “You guys didn’t hook up?”
“Meeting her in an hour,” Stack said.
“She’s pulling her car around,” Denver told him.
Armie shrugged toward the front door. “Those two are waiting for me.”
Two? Everyone glanced at the front door, where a couple of women hugged up to each other. One blonde, one raven-haired.
“Why does she have a whip in her belt?” Harper asked.
“I’m not sure,” Armie murmured, as he, too, watched the women. “But I’m intrigued.”
“Are they fondling each other?” Gage asked.
“Could be.” Armie drew his gaze back to Harper and Gage, then grinned shamelessly. “But I don’t mind being the voyeuristic third wheel.”
The guys all grinned with amusement. They were well used to Armie’s excesses.
A little shocked, Harper shook her head. “One of these days a nice girl will make an honest man of you. This is, if some crazy woman doesn’t do you in first.”
“At least I’d die happy.” Leaning against the table, arms folded over his chest, Armie studied them both. “So. You curious about how your match went?”
“Wasn’t my match,” Gage said.
“Should have been. And just so you know, Darvey annihilated your replacement.”
“How many rounds?”
“Two. Referee stoppage.”
Gage nodded as if it didn’t matter all that much. Darvey had gotten off easy—because Gage knew he’d have won the match.
Then Armie dropped a bombshell. “Cannon damn near lost.”
Because he’d been expecting something very different, Gage blinked. “No way.”
Armie blew out a breath. “He was all but gone from a vicious kick to the ribs.”
“Ouch.” Gage winced just thinking of it. If the kick nearly took Cannon out, it must have been a liver kick, and those hurt like a mother, stole your wind, and made breathing—or fighting—impossible.
Stack picked up the story. “But you know Cannon. On his way down he threw one last punch—”
“And knocked Moeller out cold,” Denver finished with enthusiasm. “It was truly something to see. Everyone was on their feet, not only here but at the event. The commentators went nuts. It was crazy.”
“Everyone
“Wow.” The door jumped, meaning Armie had probably just propped his shoulder against it. “Hasn’t told you yet, huh?”
“No.”
“Cruel, Harper,” he chastised her. “Really cruel. And here I thought you were one of those nice girls.”
Lips quivering, eyes big and liquid, she stared up at him. “I love you,” she whispered.
“Me or Gage?” Armie asked with facetious good humor.
Harper kicked the door hard with her heel, and Armie said, “Ow, damn it. Fine. I’m leaving. But, Gage, you have the keys so I can’t lock up until—”
“Five minutes.”
“And there go my illusions again.”
The quiet settled around them. They watched each other. Gage did some touching, too. But what the hell, Harper was mostly naked, looking at him with a wealth of emotion.
“I should get dressed.”
“You should tell me again that you love me.”
“I do. So much, ” Harper added with feeling. “I have for such a long time.”
Nice. “The things you do to me...” He fumbled around along the wall beside the door and finally located the light switch.
She flinched away at first, but Harper wasn’t shy. God knew she had no reason to be.
Putting her shoulders back, her chin up, she let him look. And what a sight she made with her jeans down below her knees and her shirt gone. He cupped her right breast—and saw a light sprinkling of freckles decorating her fair skin.
“Let’s go,” he whispered. “I want to take you home and look for more freckles.”
That made her snicker. As she pulled up her jeans, she said, “I don’t really have that many.”
“Don’t ruin it for me. I’ll find out for myself.”
By the time they left the room, only Armie, Stack and Denver were still hanging around.
With his arm around Harper, Gage asked, “You guys didn’t hook up?”
“Meeting her in an hour,” Stack said.
“She’s pulling her car around,” Denver told him.
Armie shrugged toward the front door. “Those two are waiting for me.”
Two? Everyone glanced at the front door, where a couple of women hugged up to each other. One blonde, one raven-haired.
“Why does she have a whip in her belt?” Harper asked.
“I’m not sure,” Armie murmured, as he, too, watched the women. “But I’m intrigued.”
“Are they fondling each other?” Gage asked.
“Could be.” Armie drew his gaze back to Harper and Gage, then grinned shamelessly. “But I don’t mind being the voyeuristic third wheel.”
The guys all grinned with amusement. They were well used to Armie’s excesses.
A little shocked, Harper shook her head. “One of these days a nice girl will make an honest man of you. This is, if some crazy woman doesn’t do you in first.”
“At least I’d die happy.” Leaning against the table, arms folded over his chest, Armie studied them both. “So. You curious about how your match went?”
“Wasn’t my match,” Gage said.
“Should have been. And just so you know, Darvey annihilated your replacement.”
“How many rounds?”
“Two. Referee stoppage.”
Gage nodded as if it didn’t matter all that much. Darvey had gotten off easy—because Gage knew he’d have won the match.
Then Armie dropped a bombshell. “Cannon damn near lost.”
Because he’d been expecting something very different, Gage blinked. “No way.”
Armie blew out a breath. “He was all but gone from a vicious kick to the ribs.”
“Ouch.” Gage winced just thinking of it. If the kick nearly took Cannon out, it must have been a liver kick, and those hurt like a mother, stole your wind, and made breathing—or fighting—impossible.
Stack picked up the story. “But you know Cannon. On his way down he threw one last punch—”
“And knocked Moeller out cold,” Denver finished with enthusiasm. “It was truly something to see. Everyone was on their feet, not only here but at the event. The commentators went nuts. It was crazy.”
“Everyone
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