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Heartbreakers: Treat Her Right / Mr November
Lori Foster
Treat Her RightGorgeous, statuesque fitness expert Wynn Lane can't help but fall for her sexy neighbor, paramedic Zack Granger, and his adorable daughter. But brash, outspoken Wynn is not Zack's idea of mommy material, even though she's making daddy's libido do flip-flops. Still, the laws of attraction rule–and Wynn is a force of nature all her own!Mr. NovemberCreating a beefcake calendar for charity, Amanda Barker has found the perfect Mr. November, super-buff firefighter Josh Marshall. But the notorious ladies' man is a hard sell, and she's forced to negotiate with the only collateral he'll accept: a date with her! Josh knows where there's smoke, there's fire–but this could burn completely out of control.…
Two classic tales of everyday heroes from New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster
treat her right
Gorgeous, statuesque fitness expert Wynn Lane can’t help but fall for her sexy neighbor, paramedic Zack Granger, and his adorable daughter. But brash, outspoken Wynn is not Zack’s idea of mommy material, even though she’s making daddy’s libido do flip-flops. Still, the laws of attraction rule—and Wynn is a force of nature all her own!
mr. november
Creating a beefcake calendar for charity, Amanda Barker has found the perfect Mr. November, superbuff firefighter Josh Marshall. But the notorious ladies’ man is a hard sell, and she’s forced to negotiate with the only collateral he’ll accept: a date with her! Josh knows where there’s smoke, there’s fire—but this could burn completely out of control…
Praise for New York Times bestselling author (#ulink_ce40bedd-5032-5451-a4e9-388542ec8999)
LORI
FOSTER
“Count on Lori Foster for edgy, sexy romance.”
—New York Times bestselling author Jayne Ann Krentz on No Limits
“Emotionally spellbinding and wicked hot.”
—New York Times bestselling author Lora Leigh on No Limits
“Storytelling at its best! Lori Foster should be on everyone’s auto-buy list.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author Sherrilyn Kenyon on No Limits
“Foster’s writing satisfies all appetites with plenty of searing sexual tension and page-turning action in this steamy, edgy, and surprisingly tender novel.”
—Publishers Weekly on Getting Rowdy
“Foster hits every note (or power chord) of the true alpha male hero.”
—Publishers Weekly on Bare It All
“A sexy, believable roller coaster of action and romance.”
—Kirkus Reviews on Run the Risk
“Foster rounds out her searing trilogy with a story that tilts toward the sizzling and sexy side of the genre.”
—RT Book Reviews on Savor the Danger
“Steamy, edgy, and taut.”
—Library Journal on When You Dare
Heartbreakers
Treat Her Right
Mr. November
Lori Foster
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#ucb75b1bb-c6d0-55ae-bbc6-cdd0aab77fca)
Back Cover Text (#ufbca32bf-6614-5b67-b7b4-669ee439507f)
Praise (#u1548ab29-9b31-52ff-a2cb-15eea3b4e067)
Title Page (#u40a6850c-024f-5fd1-85ab-400356d84063)
Dear Reader (#u121c19fa-b37a-5aea-b6da-064466719c5a)
Treat Her Right (#ua0c7d713-daff-575f-a422-62ce14134c56)
ONE (#ue13ef2a0-457e-5a18-b516-fb43aa332ac2)
TWO (#uada18b95-9e33-5a62-8fd0-55026018c3f3)
THREE (#ub7c4179f-7ed5-52ac-bc7e-c3e5ecd2120d)
FOUR (#uf91c815d-662f-5b0d-8a32-df101671309b)
FIVE (#udc1bb826-3c80-5e45-b8fa-ecdc3a1ae643)
SIX (#u2300d888-d79d-5dac-a634-e9969cda0909)
SEVEN (#u32d7b516-bb82-58e1-a1c3-6a6995a0ce68)
EIGHT (#u261f4e46-3581-5c84-afcc-b34978ece447)
NINE (#ua0715da0-482e-5f09-b1c0-36c211ac60d6)
TEN (#u5d422b5e-4b89-554b-a6e2-19d27e3b9358)
ELEVEN (#ucf652dc1-0173-542c-a95a-4001af25448b)
Mr. November (#u599088e3-2133-5140-ae21-2707ba77eb62)
ONE (#ua1de839e-19cf-501d-8d21-473c90d58e33)
TWO (#u36ff0bb2-4a3f-5fe5-8ecd-673d45748dde)
THREE (#ua475c9ee-fe4e-5ae3-b13d-42720d1f5e94)
FOUR (#uc524d1c5-60da-5475-b9c1-b994068e6a8c)
FIVE (#udfb5aa41-914e-5bd8-991e-508b1f913c85)
SIX (#u40b18974-833b-5cb4-9f8f-073089af860c)
SEVEN (#u30fd37f7-4736-501c-8ac7-01f07e7e45d8)
EIGHT (#u895e8603-29da-5822-b72c-a5271a13f688)
NINE (#u2d33f927-c742-566c-a1ff-0327ae05d21e)
TEN (#udce55d03-a412-5880-aa6e-5e24128f297f)
EPILOGUE (#u3679fff0-48af-555f-98b0-5a6f6d52335a)
Extract (#ud1be9c67-cb2c-59d3-b883-2a6db52bba81)
Copyright (#uf31eb317-f014-5824-8a9c-66f9983c436f)
Dear Reader (#ulink_0c96bb1a-96bf-5fee-a845-d9614d857f61),
I very much hope you enjoy this 2-in-1 reissue of two of my favorite books, Treat Her Right and Mr. November. They originally came out in 2001 as part of my Men to the Rescue series, and I hope you’ll have fun revisiting these everyday heroes, or discovering them for the first time.
You can see all my books with their new and original covers, and a brief description, on my website at lorifoster.com/bookshelf (http://lorifoster.com/bookshelf/).
All my best,
LoriFoster.com (http://lorifoster.com/)
Treat Her Right (#ulink_8bb4d144-5e54-5556-a27f-880fce5b5c66)
Lori Foster
ONE (#ulink_d3af8ae2-e3c5-5c60-92b5-65cc087000c7)
“DAMN YOU, CONAN! That’s it!”
Zack Grange jerked upright in his bed, heart pounding, muscles coiled. His sleep-fogged brain felt in a jumble. He’d been dreaming, a very hot dream about a sexy lady—faceless, but with a gorgeous body—and then he’d heard the loud female shout. Caught between drugging sleep and abrupt wakefulness, confusion swamped him.
He looked around his shadowed bedroom and found it as empty as ever. No one lurked in the corners, certainly not the lady he’d been dreaming of, yet the voice had seemed to be right upon him. Heart still tripping, he strained to hear, and caught male laughter floating in through his open window. He frowned.
A glance at the clock showed it to be only seven-thirty. He’d barely been in bed at all, not long enough to recoup from the strenuous night. Certainly not long enough to finish that tempting, now elusive dream.
The deep female voice came again.
“It’s not funny, you moron, and you know it,” the woman groused, showing no consideration for those people still trying sleep. “I can’t believe you did this to me.”
“Better you than me, sweetheart.” Then, “Ouch! Now that hurt.”
Zack threw off his sheet. Wearing only his boxers, he went to the window to look out. He shivered as the morning air washed over his mostly bare body. The mid-September nights were getting cool, but he preferred the fresh air for sleeping. He stretched out aching muscles, still cramped from all the lifting he’d done just a few hours ago, scratched his chest, then slid aside a thin drape and peered down into the yard behind his house.
His was a larger, more private corner lot, and the street behind him ran perpendicular to his own. His bedroom window, at the back of his house, faced the side lot, so that he could see both the front and backyard of the home behind him.
New neighbors, he thought with disgust, noticing the For Sale sign now lying flat, and cardboard boxes piled everywhere around the yard. Squinting against the blinding red haze of a half-risen sun, his tired eyes gritty, he searched for the source of the screeching.
When his gaze finally landed on her, he stared in stunned disbelief.
Extremely curly brown hair was only halfheartedly contained in a sloppy ponytail. He couldn’t see the details of her upper body beneath an overlarge, misshapen sweatshirt, but her shorts showed off mile-long, athletic legs and dirty white tennis shoes. Zack surveyed her top to bottom, and because a lot of distance stretched between those two points, it took a good minute.
As a basic male, he immediately considered those long strong legs. With the erotic dream still dancing around the corners of his mind, he pictured them twined around him, or perhaps even over his shoulders, and speculated on how tightly they might hold a man when he was between them, buried deep inside her.
As a discriminating man, he wondered why her hair looked such a wreck and what her upper body might present once out of that awful sweatshirt.
And lastly, as a neighbor, he wanted to groan at the lack of consideration that kept her squawking and carping in a voice too deep and too loud to be called even remotely feminine. The future didn’t bode well, not with her living behind him.
“Daddy?”
Zack turned with a smile, but he felt ready to commit murder. Evidently, the noise had awakened his daughter, which meant there would be no going back to bed for him. Exhaustion wrought a groan in protest, but he held out a hand, smiling gently. “Come here, sweetheart. It looks like our new neighbors are moving in.”
Rubbing her eyes with a small fist, Dani padded toward him, dragging her favorite fuzzy yellow blanket behind her. Her wee bare feet peeked out from the hem of her nightgown. Standing out around her head, her typically mussed blond hair formed a halo, and one round cheek was creased from her pillow. She reached him and held up her skinny arms. “Let me see,” she demanded in her adorable childish voice.
Obligingly, Zack lifted her. His daughter was such a tiny person, even though she was now four. Petite, as her mother had been, he thought, and hugged her close to his naked chest. He breathed in her little girl smell, rubbed his rough cheek against her downy soft hair, kissed her ear.
She liked to be held, and he loved holding her.
As usual, Dani immediately gave him a wet good-morning kiss on his whiskered cheek. She wrapped her arms around his throat, her legs around his waist, and looked out the window. Her blanket caught between them.
Zack waited for her reaction. Dani never failed to amuse him. For a four-year-old, she was very astute, honest to a fault, and he loved her more than life itself.
Most of the kids her age asked constant questions, but not Dani. She made statements instead. Other than two days a week at a preschool, she was always in the company of his friends. Zack assumed her exposure to adults accounted for her speech habits.
“I see her butt,” she said with an exaggerated frown.
Startled, Zack lowered his head to peer out the window again, and sure enough, the woman bent at the waist, her legs straight and braced apart for leverage as she tugged on a large box. Her shorts were riding rather high and he could just see the twin moons of her bottom cheeks.
Nice ass, he thought appreciatively, lifting one brow and looking a little harder. Dani poked him, and he shook his head, remembering that this woman had just awakened him from a much-needed sleep and a pleasantly carnal dream. “Wait until she stands up, Dani.”
The woman tugged and pulled and when the box broke apart, she fell backward, landing on that nice behind. From somewhere on her porch, a man hooted with loud laughter and called out, “Want some help?”
Zack fancied he could see some of her curly brown hair standing on end. She all but vibrated with temper, then snarled in a voice reminiscent of an enraged cat, “Go away, Conan!”
“But I thought you wanted my help?” came the innocent, taunting reply.
“You,” she said back, standing up and dusting herself off with enough force to leave bruises on a less hearty woman, “have done enough.”
Zack tried to see the mysterious Conan, but couldn’t. Her husband? A boyfriend? What kind of name was Conan anyway?
As the woman gained her feet, Dani said in awe, “She’s a giant!”
Chuckling, Zack squeezed her. “She looks as tall as me, doesn’t she, honey?”
His daughter nodded, watching the woman unload the box with jerky, angry movements, rather than try to move it again. Dani laid her head on Zack’s chest, quietly thinking in that way she sometimes did. Zack rubbed her back, waiting to see what she’d say next.
She shocked him speechless by suddenly leaning forward—leaving it up to him to balance her off-balance weight—and cupping her hand to her mouth, she shouted out the window, “Hello!”
The woman turned, looked up with a hand shading her eyes, searching. She spotted them and her frown was replaced by a bright toothy smile. She waved with as much enthusiasm as she’d used to dust her bottom. “Hello there!”
In his underwear, Zack quickly ducked behind the curtain. “Dani,” he said, ready to muzzle his daughter. “What are you doing?”
She wrinkled her little nose at him. “Jus’ being neighborly, like you said I should.”
“That was to the old neighbors. We don’t even know these people yet.”
She wiggled to get down, and when he set her on her feet, she said, “We’ll go meet ’em now.”
Zack caught her by the back of her cotton nightgown as she started to barrel out of the room. “Hold on, little lady. We have breakfast and chores and washing up to do first, right?”
Again, she wrinkled her nose. “Later.”
He almost grinned at her small, sweet hopeful voice—a voice she only used when trying to wrap him around her itty-bitty finger. “Now.”
Disgruntled and grumbling under her breath, she trod back to the window and yelled, “I’ll be out later!”
The woman laughed. It was a nice rich husky sound, much better than her screaming. “I’ll surely still be here.”
Zack looked out, feeling as if he’d landed in the twilight zone. Now that his daughter had drawn attention to them—and the neighbors knew they’d been watched—he couldn’t very well ignore them.
The man from the porch sauntered into the yard, smiling. Zack blinked with yet another surprise. Massive was the only word for him. Built like a large bulldog, he stood a few inches shorter than the woman, but was twice as thick and all muscle. He lifted an arm as stout as a tree trunk and waved.
“I’m Conan Lane,” he called out, “and this squawking shrew is Wynonna.”
To Zack’s amazement and Dani’s delight, the woman elbowed Conan hard, making him bend double and wheeze, then she corrected sweetly, “Call me Wynn.”
Seeing no hope for it, Zack shouted back, “Zack Grange, and my daughter, Dani.”
“Nice to meet you both!” And then to further exasperate him, Wynn said, “Since we’re all awake and it’s such a beautiful morning, I’ll bring over some coffee so we can get acquainted.”
Zack stammered, unsure how to deny that audacious imposition, but she’d already turned and hurried into her house, the enormous Conan following her. He frowned down at Dani, who shrugged, grinned, and said, “We better get dressed.” And off she dashed, her blanket dragging behind her.
Zack dropped to the side of his bed and scrubbed his hands over his face. He was badly in need of a shave and a long shower. At the moment he had no doubt his eyes were more red than blue. He’d worked twelve grueling hours last night, tended two especially trying emergencies, and he was starved as well as fatigued.
Luckily, this was his day off, which he’d intended to spend shopping with Dani. Because his daughter liked to play hard, and paid no mind at all to the knees of her jeans or the elbows of her shirts, she was desperately in need of new fall clothes.
He did not want to be bothered with outrageous neighbors.
Especially not neighbors who’d awakened him too early and were too damn large. And loud.
Shoving himself off the bed, he determined to get through the next few minutes with as much politeness and forbearance as he could muster.
The doorbell rang not three minutes later. He’d barely had time to pull on jeans and a sweatshirt. He picked up his running shoes, carrying them loosely in his hand. On his way to the door, he peeked in at Dani. She stood there in a T-shirt and blue-flowered panties, surveying her closet with a studious frown.
Zack leaned on her doorframe. “Dress warm, honey.”
She nodded, frowned some more, and looked through her clothes. Zack bit back a grin and asked, “Hard decision?”
She was so intent on her choice, she didn’t answer.
Because jeans were a given, he said, “How about a sweater?” preferring that over what she might have chosen otherwise—a ratty sweatshirt. He posed it as a suggestion, rather than an instruction, because he knew she liked to make her own decisions—about everything—any time he gave her that option.
She nodded agreement. “Okay. What sweater?”
He walked into the room, reached into her closet and pulled out a soft red sweater with multicolored buttons. “This one is nice,” he suggested, trying his best to sound serious and sincere.
She studied the sweater, considering, until the doorbell rang again. Snatching it out of his hand, she pushed at him and said, “Go! Go get the door, Dad!”
Zack laughed as he walked away. His daughter, the social butterfly. Most times, Dani didn’t give two cents for how she dressed. She’d pull on the same clothes from the night before if Zack didn’t get them out of her room and into the hamper fast enough. But let them have company and she agonized. Not that she wanted to wear dresses. Heaven forbid! And anything other than sneakers or boots repulsed her four-year-old sensibilities.
But she did like color. Lots and lots of color. Often if left to her own devices, she’d clash so horribly it’d make his eyes glaze.
Still sporting a grin, Zack bounded down the stairs and went to the front door. He turned the locks and opened it, wishing he didn’t have to do this today. He’d wanted nothing more than to sleep in, then take a long leisurely soak in the hot tub, eat an enormous breakfast, and spend the day with his daughter.
Now he had to be neighborly.
The second the door opened, the woman looked at him and her smile faded. “Oh dear,” she said. “We woke you up, didn’t we?”
Zack went mute and stared.
Up close, she seemed even taller, and she did indeed look him in the eye. At six feet tall, that didn’t happen to him often. His two best friends, Mick and Josh, were both taller, Mick especially, who stood six foot three. But then they were both guys. They were not female.
A light breeze ruffled her flyaway hair, which seemed to have been permanently crimped. The color was nice, a soft honey-brown, lighter around her face where the sun had kissed it. Curls sprung out here and there and everywhere, like miniature springs. He doubted such unruly hair could ever be fully contained.
A soft flush colored her skin—high across her cheekbones, over the bridge of her narrow nose and the tip of her chin—either by the warmth of the day, her exertions, or the bright sunshine. Zack suspected the latter.
Sporting a crooked smile, she stared right back at him with the most unusual hazel eyes he’d ever seen. So light they were almost the color of topaz, they were fringed by thick, impossibly dark lashes, especially given the color of her hair. After a silent moment, her arched brows lifted and her smile stretched into a full-fledged grin.
Zack caught himself. Good God, he’d been staring at her as if he’d never seen a woman before. He’d been staring at her...with interest. He shook his head. “What gave me away?”
“What’s that?” She now appeared confused.
“How could you tell that you woke me?”
“Ah. The hair standing on end? The all-night whiskers? Or it could be the bloodshot eyes.” She made a tsking sound. “Have you slept at all?”
He ran a hand through his hair and mumbled, “I worked pretty late last night,” and left it at that. He wasn’t with it enough yet to start rehashing the past evening’s events. He pushed the screen door open and stepped aside. “Come on in.”
She looked behind her. “Conan will be right along. He’s getting some muffins out of the oven. He’s a terrific cook.”
Conan-the-massive cooked?
The woman held up a carafe. “Fresh coffee. French vanilla. I hope that’s okay?”
He hated flavored coffees. “It’s fine,” he lied, “but totally unnecessary.”
“It’s the very least I can do now that I know I got you out of bed.”
If she hadn’t, he thought, perhaps he’d have finished that sexy dream and not been so edgy now. But as it was, he couldn’t quite seem to get himself together.
She hesitated at the door. “I really am so sorry. This is my first house and I’m equally stressed and excited and when I get that way, I unfortunately get—” She shrugged in apology. “—loud.”
Her honesty was both unexpected and appealing. Zack forced a smile. “I understand.”
Yet, she still held back. “I don’t mean to barge in. If you have some cups, we could sit here on your porch. We’ll share one cup of coffee, chat a little, and that’s all, I promise. It’s a beautiful morning and we are all awake now, right?”
Great. If he kept her and her husband outside, he could probably get rid of them quicker. “Good idea. Have a seat and I’ll go get some cups.”
Just then, Dani came dashing down the steps. Zack turned, saw her small feet flying, and said softly but sternly, “Slow down.”
She skidded to a halt on the second to the bottom step, gave him a quick, offhand, “Sorry,” and looked up at the woman as she finished approaching. “Hi.”
Wynn’s face lit up with her smile, making those golden eyes glow and the color in her cheeks intensify. “Hello there!” Kneeling down in the doorway, she said, “It’s so good to meet you.” She held out a hand that Dani took with formality. Zack watched in awe. “I hadn’t realized I’d have another female for a neighbor. The Realtor only told me that a single man lived here.”
“I’m Dani. My mom died,” Dani said, “so it’s jus’ me and Dad.”
Given half a chance, Dani would voice anything that came into her mind. Normally he didn’t mind, but this time it rankled.
Her sweater was hiked up in the back and the left leg of her jeans had caught on a cotton sock. Zack smoothed the sweater, tugged the jeans into place, and frowned at her hair. His daughter, bless her heart, had the most impossible baby-fine, flyaway blond hair.
Then he glanced at Wynn again and revised his opinion. Dani had difficult hair, but definitely not the worst.
Softly, probably because she realized Dani had touched on a private topic, Wynn said, “Well, I’m very glad to have you for a neighbor, Dani.” She glanced up at Zack warily. “And your dad, too, of course.”
Zack took his daughter’s hand, not about to leave her alone with a virtual stranger, and said, “Wynn, if you’d like to make yourself comfortable, we’ll get the mugs and be right out.”
Wynn stood again, stretching out that long tall body. Zack’s gaze automatically dropped to her legs, but he quickly pulled it back to her face even as a wave of heat snaked through him. She was married, he thought guiltily, and he had no intention of ogling a neighbor anyway.
Rather than looking put out by his quick, intimate perusal, Wynn smiled. “Sounds good,” she murmured, her eyes warm. She turned back to the porch, giving Zack a back view of those strong shapely legs and tight bottom, and the screen door fell shut behind her.
Dani stared up at him, but he shook his head, indicating she should be quiet for a moment. When they reached the kitchen, he plunked her onto a chair opposite him and took a moment to pull on his shoes. That accomplished, he looked at his daughter. “Juice?”
“Apple.” Dani swung her feet, then tilted her head. “She’s not taller than you.”
“No, not quite,” Zack said, locating a tray beneath the sink and loading it with three mugs, a glass of apple juice and a bowl of cereal for Dani. “It’s close, though. She looked me right in the eye, but she had on thick-soled shoes and I was still barefoot.”
Dani squirmed. “I want my hair in a ponytail like hers.”
He smiled. Maybe a female neighbor, even a very big one with corkscrew hair, wouldn’t be a bad thing. Eloise, Dani’s sitter during Zack’s working hours, was a very kind, gentle and attentive woman. But she was old enough to be Zack’s grandmother, with bluish hair and support hose—not a woman to inspire a young girl.
Zack’s company was mostly limited to Mick and Josh, and though Josh knew everything there was to know about legal-aged females, he knew next to nothing about four-year-olds. Since Mick had married, Dani got to visit with Delilah now and then, and the two of them had really hit it off, which proved to Zack that Dani needed a woman around more often.
For Dani’s sake, he’d decided he needed a wife. But finding someone appropriate was proving to be more difficult than he’d thought, mostly because he had so little time to look.
When he did have time, he didn’t run across any suitable women. A wife would need to be domestic, neat, lovable, and she’d have to understand that his daughter came first. Period.
“A ponytail it is,” Zack said, forcing his mind away from that problem. He stroked his big rough fingers through Dani’s fine hair. “Why don’t you go get your brush and a band, and then come out to the porch?”
“Okay.” She slid off the chair and ran from the room again. His daughter never walked when she could run. She was never quiet when she could talk or laugh, and she always fought naps right up until she ran out of gas and all but collapsed. She exuded constant energy, and she had an imagination that often left him floored.
She was his life.
Wynn and Conan were arguing again when Zack opened the screen door. He stalled, uncertain what to do as Wynn poked the bulky bruiser in the chest and threatened his life.
Ignoring most of her diatribe, Conan said, “Ha!” then flicked her earlobe, hard.
Zack’s mouth fell open, seeing the physical byplay.
Before he could say anything, Wynn lit up like a live wire, clutching at her ear. “That hurt!”
“Well so does your pointy little finger trying to bore holes in my chest.”
“Bull.” She leaned in to him, nose to nose, and deliberately gave him another, harder prod. “You can’t feel anything through that layer of rock and you know it.”
Conan rubbed his chest, opened his mouth to say God-only-knew-what, then noticed Zack. He scowled. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself in front of your neighbors, Wynonna.”
Frozen half in, half out of the door, Zack just stared. Domestic troubles? God, he didn’t want to be involved in this.
Wynn rushed forward and took the tray from him. “Just ignore Conan,” she said, “he’s a bully.”
Conan ran both hands through his blond hair, which Zack noticed wasn’t the least bit frizzy, and growled. His eyes turned red and his face blue. “Wynonna, I swear I’m gonna—”
He reached for her and Zack, without really thinking, stepped between them. The tray in Wynn’s arms wobbled, but she maintained her grip.
“Look,” Zack said, not sure if the woman would need any help or not, “this is none of my business, but—”
Wynn rudely pushed her way around him. “You’re gonna what?” she taunted Conan. “What else can you do?”
Conan reached for her again, and Zack grabbed him. “That’s enough,” he roared.
Zack hadn’t had enough sleep, he was still disturbed by the calls he’d made the night before, and he had no tolerance for petty bickering.
And he absolutely, positively, would not put up with a man hurting a woman, not even a pesky too-big neighbor woman he barely knew and who looked like she could damn well defend herself.
Silence fell. Conan, with one brow raised, stared at Zack’s hand wrapped around his thick wrist. Zack had big hands, but still, his fingers barely touched.
Conan’s gaze shifted to Wynn, and he made a wry face. “A gallant in the making?”
Wynn set the tray down and rushed to put herself between the two men, facing Zack. Her fingers spread wide on his chest, pressing, restraining although he could have easily moved her aside and they both knew it. Wedged between the two of them, she was so close to Zack he felt her breath and the heat of her body. He twitched.
Wynn stared into his face with an expression bordering on wonder, patted him, and then said with quiet sincerity, “Thank you, but Conan would never hurt me, Zack. I promise. He just likes to needle.”
Conan, still caught in Zack’s unrelenting grasp, snorted at that. But he replied easily, “She’s right, you know. I might want to swat her every now and again, but I wouldn’t hurt her.”
Swat her? Zack peered into Wynn’s large golden eyes and imagined all kinds of kinky sexual play between the two of them.
He wasn’t sure if he was disgusted or intrigued, and his indecision on the matter was unacceptable. He frowned, feeling very put upon.
Then Conan continued lazily. “Wynn, however, has never shown any such consideration. She’s been kicking my ass since we were both in diapers.”
Wynn gave Zack an apologetic nod. “It’s true. Conan is such a big lug, he’s always let me practice up on him.”
Conan tugged on his hand, and Zack, feeling numb and rather foolish, and for some damn reason, relieved, released him.
Brother and sister?
“She’s so big,” Conan continued, “she’s always looked older than her age. When she was in ninth grade, college guys were hitting on her! She needed to know how to fight off the cretins. So I’ve been her personal punching bag for longer than I care to remember.”
Still with her hands pressed to Zack’s chest, Wynn glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Not that he feels it,” she said to her brother, “regardless of how he carries on.” Facing Zack again, she explained, “A steamroller could go over Conan and he’s so thick with muscle he wouldn’t notice.”
Zack inhaled and breathed in the scents of vanilla coffee, fresh blueberry muffins, early morning dew on green grass—and Wynn. She smelled...different. Not sweet. Not exactly spicy. It was more a fresh scent, like a cool fall breeze or the forerunner to a storm. His muscles twitched again.
Damn, but this day was not going at all as planned.
And he could only blame one very big, and somehow very appealing, woman. A woman who was not only his neighbor, but still touching him, still looking at him with a mixture of tenderness, humor, and...hunger.
He’d known tall women, hell, Mick’s wife Delilah was tall. But he’d never known such a...sturdy woman. Her open hands on his chest were nearly as large as his own. Her shoulders were broad, her bones long. Unlike Delilah, Wynn wasn’t delicate.
But she was sexy.
He needed some sleep to be able to deal with the likes of her. And he needed more time.
And most of all, he needed sex, because he knew when he started getting turned on by a loud, pushy amazon, it had been far, far too long.
TWO (#ulink_fe505d8f-fd44-5d70-9c12-87b11a7c4f1b)
GATHERING HIS SCATTERED WITS, Zack looked at both Wynn and Conan, then stepped out of Wynn’s reach. “I see,” he said, for lack of anything better. His brain was all but empty of responses. This had not been a memorable morning.
Wynn fought off a smile, at his expense. “I do appreciate your consideration for my welfare, though.”
The way she said it made him feel ten times more foolish. He could see why Conan thought she needed a good swat. At the moment, he wasn’t totally averse to the idea himself.
Conan saved the awkward moment by pouring the coffee. The rich aroma of vanilla intensified, but Zack could still smell her. She’d been working and her skin was hot, dewy with her exertions.
He growled low in his throat, hating his basic response to her.
Thankfully unaware of the source of his disgruntlement, Conan said, “Sit down, Zack. You look like we’ve wrung you out already. And I have to tell you, it’s only going to get worse.”
How in the hell can it get worse? Zack accepted the coffee and seated himself in a padded chair. Conan sat across from him, Wynn on the settee. Mustering a tone of bland inquiry, Zack asked, “How so?” while eyeing the golden brown muffin, bursting with ripe blueberries, which Conan passed his way.
Nodding to his sister, who had reverted back to frowning, Conan explained, “Mom and Dad are moving. They needed somewhere to stay for two weeks and since Wynn just got this place, I convinced them she was a better choice than me.” He flashed a wide, unapologetic grin.
Wynn huffed. “Not that I don’t love my parents, but when you meet them you’ll understand why I’m considering wringing Conan’s neck.”
Zack didn’t want to meet her parents. He hadn’t even wanted to meet her. With any luck, from here on out he’d successfully avoid the Lane clan altogether.
“But hey,” Conan said, and punched Zack in the shoulder, nearly making him spill the distasteful coffee. “I like it that you wanted to protect her. Knowing she’ll have a neighbor looking out for her makes me feel better about her living alone.”
Conan had fists like sledgehammers, and not enough sense to temper his blows. The muscle in Zack’s shoulder leaped in pain. He refused to show any weakness by rubbing it.
And he refused to become Wynn’s protector, though God knew with a smart and loud mouth like hers, she’d likely need a battalion to shield her from retaliation. But before he could find words to express his thoughts, Dani appeared. She hesitated, showing unaccustomed shyness, her soft-bristled brush clutched in one hand, the other on the screen door.
Setting aside his coffee, Zack held out his hand and she skipped to him. He put her on his knee and began brushing her silky hair. “Dani, Conan is Wynn’s brother.”
Dani leaned close to his ear and whispered loudly enough for the birds in the trees to hear, “What do I call ’em?”
Wynn answered for him. “Well, neighbors can’t very well stand on formality, now can they? So, if you don’t mind us calling you Dani, you can just call us Wynn and Conan. Deal?”
Dani twisted, stuck out her hand, and said, “Deal.”
Conan laughed and enfolded the diminutive fingers with his massive paw. Muscles flexed and rolled along his arm, yet Zack couldn’t help but notice that he was very gentle.
After Wynn shook Dani’s hand, too, Dani stated, “Your hair looks funny.”
“Dani.” Her habit of speaking her mind was often humorous, but this wasn’t one of those times.
She blinked at her father uncertainly. “It doesn’t?”
It did, so what could he say? He settled on, “You know better than to be rude.”
Far from insulted, Wynn laughed out loud and shook her head so more corkscrew curls sprang wild. “It feels funny, too. Wanna see?”
Dani looked at Zack for permission, and he could only shrug. Never in his life had he known a woman who behaved as she did, so how was he supposed to know how to deal with her?
Dani reached out, nearly falling off Zack’s knee, and put her fingertips to the bouncing curls. She gave a tentative stroke, and then another. Her brow furrowed in concentration. “It’s soft.” And then to Zack, “Feel it, Daddy.”
Zack nearly choked. “Uh, no, Dani...”
Conan must have had a wicked streak, because he taunted, “Ah, go ahead, Zack. Wynonna won’t mind.”
“Wynonna will loosen your jaw if you don’t stop calling me Wynonna!”
Dani laughed. Zack was a little bemused to realize his daughter recognized the lack of threat in their repartee while he’d been alarmed by it.
“My name’s Daniella, but no one calls me that. ’Cept Dad sometimes when he’s mad.”
Wynn gave a theatrical gasp. “Your father gets mad at you?” she teased, holding one hand to her chest. “Whatever for? Why, you’re such a little angel.”
Dani shrugged. “Not all the time. Sometimes I get into mis...mis...”
“Mischief,” Zack supplied, “and don’t make me sound like an ogre to our new neighbors.”
She beamed at him. “He’s the best dad in the whole world.”
“Much better.” Zack smiled and kissed her soft plump cheek. “She has her moments, and if angels can be rowdy and rambunctious, then the description does fit.”
Conan laughed, but Wynn gave him another of those tender, intent looks. He frowned and turned away.
“You don’t really fight with Conan,” Dani told Wynn, as if Wynn might not be aware of that fact herself.
“I would never take a chance on hurting him,” Wynn boasted. Then, pretending to share a confidence, she added, “Besides, he’s my brother and I love him.”
Dani sat back against her father’s chest and crossed her arms. “I want a brother.”
Zack choked.
Conan handed him a napkin, again staving off the awkward moment. “If you want to hear the real joke about Wynn’s hair,” Conan said, “then you should know that our father is a coiffeur.”
“What’s that?” Dani asked.
“A coiffeur,” Wynn explained, “is just another word for a hairdresser.”
Again and again, they took him by surprise, Zack thought. “That’s...interesting,” he remarked, and gulped down more of the awful vanilla coffee.
Wynn chuckled. “The fact that I won’t let him touch my hair makes him crazy. Which is why I won’t let him touch it, of course. Every time he sees me, he wails like he’s in pain.”
“And when she says wails, she means wails.” Conan sipped his own coffee before setting the cup aside. “My dad is likely to be the only flaming heterosexual you’ll ever meet.”
Zack stared. Flaming heterosexual? Did these two know any normal or mundane conversational tidbits? Couldn’t they go on about the weather or something? Together, they were the strangest people he’d ever met so he had no doubt the parents had to be beyond odd as well. He kept silent.
His daughter did not.
“Does that mean hairdresser, too?” Dani asked.
Wynn quickly swallowed her bite of muffin. “No, Dani, that means he likes to dress in silk and lots of gold chains and he has this enormous diamond earring.”
Oh Lord, Zack thought, and wished he could escape.
“Our mother, on the other hand, is the original hippie. She’s into all things natural and doesn’t wear any jewelry at all except for a plain wedding band.”
“But,” Conan interjected, casting a sly look at Wynn, “she loves my father enough to let him keep her hair trimmed.”
“Daddy would have a heart attack if I asked him to do my hair now. You know that. Besides, he likes to have something to gripe at me about.”
“Does your mom’s hair look like yours?” Zack heard himself ask, curious despite himself.
“Heavens no! I got my hair from some long-deceased ancestor.”
Conan leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. “And believe me, we’re all beyond grateful that he is long deceased.”
Wynn shoved at him. “My father’s hair is brown and sleek, and my mother’s hair is blond like Conan’s, but longer—all the way to her waist.”
Dreading the answer, Zack asked, “When are they supposed to join you?”
“Next week,” she mumbled, sounding despondent and resigned. “And I was so looking forward to living on my own.”
“You lived at home until now?” As Zack asked that, he finished brushing the tangles from Dani’s hair, smoothed it back and expertly wrapped the covered band around it, securing it in place. She bobbed her head a bit, making the ponytail bounce, then smiled and kissed him again. Zack gave her an affectionate squeeze—and noticed the silly smiles on his neighbors’ faces.
He now felt conspicuous, all because he’d fixed his daughter’s hair. It was no big deal, nothing elaborate, just a ponytail. And it wasn’t like there was someone else to do it. Anything his daughter needed, he supplied. Except female company, but he was working on that.
“No,” Wynn said, still looking too soft and female and approving, which for her was a gross contradiction. The contrast...intrigued him.
No, it did not!
“At twenty-eight,” she continued, oblivious to his inner turmoil on her femaleness, “I’ve been out of the house for a while. But I had two roommates, and they were both awful slobs. I’m sort of what you’d call...”
“Fanatical,” Conan supplied, toasting her with his coffee cup. “She likes to keep an immaculate, organized house. Drives me crazy.”
“Dad’s fatical, too,” Dani told them. “Mick and Josh tell him he’ll make a good husband for some lucky woman some day.”
“Is that right?” Amused, Conan eyed Zack.
Wynn drank more coffee, cleared her throat as if embarrassed, and finally put her cup aside. “Well, I can’t stand having things thrown just anywhere. Busy people need to be organized.”
Since Zack felt the same way, he could empathize with her. Other than Dani’s toys, which he left scattered around so Dani wouldn’t feel stifled, he liked to have a place for everything and everything in its place. He kept the house clean and once a month a service came to do a more thorough job, getting the baseboards and the ceiling and the air ducts—all the places he seldom had time to tend to.
The idea that they might have something in common was a little alarming, so he didn’t belabor the point.
Dani slid off his lap to sit beside Wynn. She situated herself in the exact same pose as the neighbor, shoulders back, spine straight, head tilted just so. Except that Dani’s legs hanging over the edge of the padded settee didn’t even come close to touching the ground, while Wynn’s not only touched, they folded so sharply her knees were practically in her face. Zack shook his head. He’d never seen legs so long. Or so nicely shaped.
Dani gave Wynn a toothy grin, then picked up her bowl of cereal and dug in.
“Conan falls into the slob category.” Wynn handed Dani a napkin almost without thought. Zack wondered if she was around children often, then decided it didn’t matter to him one iota. “Which is probably why my folks decided to spend their two weeks with me. It’s far too easy to get lost in his cluttered apartment. He keeps newspapers around for weeks, and there’s always something rotting in his refrigerator.”
Zack couldn’t stop his shudder of revulsion. Watching him, Wynn nodded in perfect accord. “It’s disgusting,” she confirmed.
To change the subject, Conan asked, “What do you do for a living, Zack?”
Both he and his sister stared at Zack with expectant expressions.
Dani answered for him, saying around a mouthful of cereal and milk, “He saves peoples. He’s a hero.”
Settling back in her seat, Wynn slowly nodded. “Mmmm. I can see that.” She eyed Zack up and down...and up again, letting her gaze linger here and there. He felt that interested gaze like a lick of fire and wanted to groan.
“Your dad,” she said, “has all the right makings of a hero. Big, muscular, handsome and kind.” And then with an impish, very intimate and inviting smile, “I’m glad he’s my neighbor.”
* * *
It was the most curious sensation, Wynn thought, as if her heart had started to boil the second she’d seen him. Then, when he’d held his daughter on his knee and patiently brushed her hair, her heart outright melted. She’d never felt anything like it. She’d never seen anyone like him.
And she was all but bowled over with a mixed jumble of emotions.
Dani herself caused part of the effect; Wynn couldn’t imagine a more adorable little girl than the one sitting primly beside her, milk on her upper lip and her riotous hair neatly contained in a bouncy ponytail. The child had an impish demeanor that proved she was both smart and precocious.
Most of the effect, though, came from Zack Grange. Wowza. She hadn’t believed one man could carry such a sizzling emotional and physical wallop, but Zack did. He stood the smallest bit taller than she, maybe an inch at most. Which meant he must stand a flat six feet. Her height, however, apparently didn’t distress him.
No, before he’d recalled himself, Zack had looked at her with male appreciation, and she liked it. A lot.
She wished she hadn’t worn the bulky sweatshirt with the stretched out neckline and the hem that hung midway down her shorts. Her upper body was as toned as the rest of her, and she wondered how he’d look at her there.
When she’d first dressed, the early morning air had carried a nip, but she was nowhere near cool now. In fact, she felt a little overheated. Maybe downright hot.
She guessed Zack to be around thirty, given the age of his daughter and his overall physique. It was his physique that had her doing more than her fair share of ogling. The man was put together just fine.
He wasn’t a muscle-bound behemoth like her brother, but lean and toned, with an obvious strength that was partly innate male, partly specialized training. His chest was wide, his shoulders wider. He had narrow hips, long straight legs and large, lean hands and feet. There was no fat on his middle, no slouch in his stance.
Light brown hair, bone straight and disheveled from being roused out of bed, complemented gentle, intense blue eyes. His brows and beard stubble were darker, his jaw hard and stubborn.
But it was when he looked at his daughter that his gorgeous blue eyes held the most impact.
Only seconds after seeing Zack, she’d wanted him. The man exuded raw sexuality tempered with gentleness and caring. A highly potent combination.
Being around him felt...comfortable, in a dozen different ways.
With an acquaintance not quite an hour long, she knew enough to respect him. She’d already learned that he loved his daughter, was a natural defender of women, and showed politeness even when rude neighbors pulled him from a much-needed sleep.
She sighed, earning a strange look from both men and Dani.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, wishing she could crawl over onto his lap now that Dani was no longer in it. But a big hulking girl like herself didn’t sit in laps. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time a man had held her. “So what title applies to your heroic deeds, Zack?”
He rubbed his hands over his tired eyes while explaining. “I’m an EMT paramedic. Dani thinks Mick, Josh and I are all heroes. Actually I believe she has Mick’s wife, Delilah, in that category now, too.”
“They’re heroes,” Dani insisted with a child’s love and devotion.
And Zack responded, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, sweetheart.”
“So you drive an ambulance, huh?” Conan leaned forward with interest. “Who do you work for?”
“The fire department. Josh is a fireman there. We’ve known each other forever.”
Wynn tipped her head, recalling the other name he had mentioned. “And Mick? What does he do?”
“Mick is a cop. His wife, Delilah Piper-slash-Dawson is a—”
“Novelist!” Conan finished for him, surging to the edge of his seat with excitement. “Are you kidding me? You know Delilah Piper?”
“Don’t forget the �slash-Dawson’ part or Mick will have your head.” Zack grinned, showing even white teeth and a dimple in his left cheek. A dimple! Wynn’s melting heart thumped so hard, she nearly missed the rest of Zack’s explanation. “Since she and Mick married, he’s been understanding about her name already being well known. He’s proud of her career, but insistent that those of us who are familiar remember she’s a married woman now.”
“Possessive, is he?” Wynn asked.
And Conan said, “Are you nuts? She’s Delilah Piper.” He snorted. “I’d be possessive, too.”
“You always are,” Wynn said with a shake of her head. Her brother drove his present girlfriend crazy with his possessive, overbearing ways.
“I take it you’re a fan?” Zack asked.
“I just finished her newest. That scene at the river was incredible.”
“I can get your books signed for you if you want.”
Wynn watched in disgust as her muscle-bound brother looked ready to get up and dance a jig. She glanced at Dani, and they shared a woman-to-woman smile. Dani even shook her head and rolled her big blue eyes, causing Wynn to chuckle.
While the men continued to work out the details of the books, Wynn turned to Dani. “So you’re close to Josh and Mick and Delilah?”
“She wants to be called Del, only Mick won’t. I think it’s jus’ to tease her.”
“And Mick and Josh?”
“They’re fun. Josh has lots of ladies, but he says none of ’em are prettier than me so he can’t marry ’em.”
“Smart man.”
“Yeah.” She nodded with a look of pity for the poor unwed Josh and the not-pretty-enough women. “Dad wants to get married, too, but he’s gotta find a wife first.” Dani scrunched up her face, studying Wynn.
Wynn squirmed under such close scrutiny. From a child! Luckily, Dani whispered to her father that she had to go in to the potty. After she went in, Zack returned to his conversation about Del Piper, keeping Conan enthralled.
Wynn looked at Zack. So, he wanted a wife, huh? Or was that something Dani had misconstrued?
How in the world was it that he hadn’t already remarried? A man like Zack probably had women by the dozens. But then...she rethought that and shook her head at herself. Zack was very dedicated to his daughter, and she knew EMTs worked long shifts, sometimes up to sixty hours a week. That wouldn’t leave him much time for dating, much less cultivating a lasting relationship.
He must have felt her gaze, for he glanced at her while Conan waxed poetic about Ms. Piper’s remarkable talent. Their gazes met and held and Zack frowned. He glanced away, then back again. Wynn blinked at him, feeling soft and hot and excited.
She stared, knew she stared, and couldn’t seem to help herself. Zack shifted, glaring at her then crossing one ankle over a knee.
He had thick ankles. And wrists. And long fingers and...one thought led to another and she couldn’t keep herself from peeking at his lap. His jeans were old and faded and appeared very soft. They cupped him lovingly, outlining a bulge that proved most noticeable, even without him being aroused.
Her heart dropped into her stomach and began jumping erratically. Her palms tingled, craving to touch him, to weigh him in her hands—
“Stop that!”
She blinked hard and looked up at him. Conan went silent, confused. A red flush crept up Zack’s neck. He cleared his throat and stood.
“The coffee and muffins were great. Thanks.”
As dismissals went, it wasn’t the least bit subtle, but Conan didn’t seem to find anything amiss. He shook Zack’s hand, saying, “I’ll bring the books to you soon, if you’re sure she won’t mind signing them.”
“Delilah’s great. She won’t mind.” Zack didn’t look at Wynn at all, and she had the feeling his avoidance was deliberate. But then, he’d caught her staring at his crotch, all but salivating.
She blushed. She’d known the man one hour, and already she’d behaved like a shameless hussy. Or worse, like a desperate spinster.
Oh God! Maybe that was how he saw her. After all, she was twenty-eight and single. The only male helping her move in was her brother; no fiancé, not even a boyfriend. He couldn’t know that it was by choice, because she hadn’t yet met a guy who...made her blood sing, not like he did.
Damn, damn, damn.
Not being of a shy or withdrawn nature, she stuck out her hand, daring him to continue ignoring her. She wouldn’t allow it.
His jaw locked. With a false smile pinned to his tired face, he took her hand. His touch, his look, was beyond impersonal, and she hated it. “Welcome to the neighborhood, Wynn.”
“Thanks.” He tried to take his hand back, but she held on. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.”
After she said it, she winced. It sounded like a threat! Then she realized he was trying to tug his hand free and here she was, doing the macho “grip” thing. Good God, she was making things worse by the second.
She turned him loose and put her hands in her pockets so she wouldn’t be tempted to get hold of him again. Conan gathered up the carafe and the muffin plate.
Feeling like an idiot, she said, “Well, thanks again. And really, I am sorry we woke you.”
Dani bounded back outside, then skidded to a disappointed halt. “You can’t leave.”
Zack put his hand on the top of her silky head. “I’m sure Wynn wants to finish unpacking, sweetheart. And you and I are going shopping.”
Dani groaned, wilted, all in all acting like a child being sent to the woodshed.
Barely hiding a smile, Zack said, “None of that. We’ll have lunch out and it’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
Conan gave a crooked grin. “I gather she doesn’t like shopping?”
“Not for clothes, no. But she’s about worn out everything warm she has.”
“Sounds like Wynn. She hates shopping, too.”
Dani’s eyes widened. “You do?”
Wynn shrugged. “I know it’s supposed to be a girl thing, but I’ve never understood it. Thank goodness I don’t need a lot of clothes.”
Conan leaned forward. “She used to outgrow her wardrobe daily, but we’re hoping she’s done growing by now.”
Wynn elbowed him, caught Zack’s look of disapproval, and wanted to throttle her brother. Zack didn’t approve of their physical sparring, and she’d meant to cease it in front of him. But Conan had a way of egging her on. “I quit growing ten years ago. And with my job, casual clothes are perfect.”
“What do you do?” Zack asked, then looked like he wanted to bite his tongue off.
“I’m a physical therapist. I work two days a week at the high school, two days a week at the college.” She nodded toward her brother. “Conan owns a gym and I sometimes help out there, too, when the bodybuilders overdo it.”
Zack looked dubious, but nodded. He said to Conan, again ignoring her, “A gym, huh?”
“Small, but it’s all mine and I’m a good trainer. I do a lot of private stuff.” He winked. “The clientele is as much female as male.”
Bristling at Zack’s disregard and her brother’s caveman attitude, Wynn said, “Rachael will get you if she hears that particular leer in your tone.”
Conan shrugged, unconcerned with the warning. “Rachael is my current girlfriend, not my wife. And speaking of Rachael, I should get going.” He gave one last wave and headed off.
Wynn gazed after him, watching him go down the steps and then around the porch toward her new house. She sighed. “Me, too. I’ve got a lot of unpacking to do yet.” She turned to Zack, who appeared anxious to finish the goodbyes. “Being as we’re neighbors,” she thought to say, “feel free to borrow if you ever need to. You know, the proverbial cup of sugar or whatever.”
“Thanks.” Zack’s tone was dry. “I’ll keep that in mind. And thanks for the coffee and muffins. They were...great.”
With nothing left to say, Wynn stepped off the porch with a lagging step. “Okay, well...bye.”
“Goodbye, Wynn.”
She glanced over her shoulder to see Zack escaping into his house. He closed the door behind him, and she heard the lock click. Well, hell. His goodbye had sounded entirely too final.
That just wouldn’t do. She wanted him. One way or another.
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