A Perfect Storm
Page 28

“A few.” His big hand came to rest casually on her foot. “If you’re in a talkative mood…”
Heart racing from his touch—on her foot, for crying out loud—Arizona shrugged. “Sure.”
He turned down the volume on the television. “Then let’s talk about our plans for tomorrow.”
What a buzzkill. She groaned. “I guess you’re going to insist?”
He hesitated. “You know we need to coordinate.”
Yeah, they did. To get comfortable, she turned to her back with her knees bent under the throw, her head on the pillow, and peered down the length of the couch at him. “We’ll arrive separately, you in your truck, me by bus so that we can leave together in one vehicle afterward.” She cautioned him, “Make sure you park away from the entrance, so no one will see us together afterward.”
Deadpan, he said, “Naturally.”
“I’ll go in first and grab a seat at the bar. Say, five or ten minutes later, you can come in and sit at a table.”
“Why don’t I sit at the bar?”
“Because I’ve already scoped out the place, and that’s where I sat before.” She rolled her shoulder. “It’s where I need to be to draw their attention. You can watch over things more easily, without being noticed, from the eating area.”
He didn’t look happy about it, but he agreed. “I’m not going to wait that long before coming in, though.”
Why did he sound annoyed already? “So come in earlier, then. Just be discreet.”
His thumb moved over the arch of her foot, nearly stopping her heart. “This isn’t my first rodeo, honey.”
She wasn’t his honey, but… “What are you doing?”
“What?”
She nodded at her feet.
As if he hadn’t been aware of the touch himself, he looked down at his hand and then stroked with his thumb again. “This?” He drew both her feet up to his thigh. “You’re tense.”
She was, but she thought she’d hidden it. “Yeah, well…”
“You don’t like it?” He pressed, rubbed, worked her arches in a deep, firm massage.
And she wanted to melt. Felt like parts of her did melt. “Mmm. I like it.”
Spencer stilled again, his gaze piercing, hot. “Never had a foot-rub before?”
“That’s a joke, right?”
“So relax and enjoy.”
It was a bit too personal, but she liked it too much to make him quit. “Knock yourself out.” She drew a breath and tried to get them back on track. “Okay, so you know to ignore me when you come into the place, right?”
“If I did that, they’d suspect something.” Setting aside the beer, he half turned toward her and, keeping his gaze on her face, worked over her feet more thoroughly.
Bone-melting pleasure stole her breath.
Watching her, Spencer said softly, “No red-blooded man is going to miss noticing you, Arizona, so forget that idea. I’ll give you the same attention every other guy in the place will be doling out. Think you can handle that?”
With her heavy eyelids at half-mast, she snuggled farther into his couch. “Sure.”
He half smiled. “Just so you know, I might have to pretend interest in other women, too.”
That brought her out of her slumberous trance. “Why?”
“Because if the place is what we think it is, they’re liable to parade out the wares. If I’m not picking up the cues, they’ll pull back and we’ll lose an opportunity.”
He was right, damn him. She wouldn’t think about it now, and tomorrow…she’d deal with it. “Fine, whatever.” Her toes curled at his renewed touch. “Once you’re in the bar for backup, I’ll drop a few casual questions, maybe flirt a little, go for the helpless look. You know, all in all I’ll make myself seem like easy pickings.”
“You’ve done that before?”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “Yeah. Plenty of times. It works to draw out the unscrupulous scumbags.”
His hands moved up to her ankles, kneading, soothing, then back down over her feet. So nice.
“And when the scumbags show themselves?”
“You and I can kick their…butts.” She’d swallowed back the curse word just in time, which robbed the description of any real punch.
This business of curbing her language was a little harder than she’d expected.
“A near miss.” Spencer’s hands stilled, tightened. “But I don’t like that part of the plan.”
“So what’d you want to do? Sweet-talk them into falling off the face of the earth?”
“I want you to stay out of harm’s way and let me handle it.”
She stared at him. “Poor Spencer. Did you think the massage would make me more agreeable?” Was that why he did it? “Fat chance.”
Planting one hand on the back of the couch, another near her knee, he leaned over her.
And that did alarm her a little. She was nearly flat on her back. She had on minimal clothing. And a man of his size and strength could be imposing without malicious intent.
She said, “Uh—” and considered bringing her knee up into his ribs.
“Here’s what’ll happen, honey.” His tone was calm, even. “You’ll ask the right questions, be suitably naive, and if anyone bites, we withdraw.”