Lori Foster

Heartbreakers: Treat Her Right / Mr November


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shopping you know.”

      Zack did know. Every Christmas and every birthday, Josh took Dani shopping. They’d make a whole day of it, and Josh would spoil her with gifts and a movie and the amusement park. It was surprising, given Josh presented the world with only his preference for bachelorhood, yet Zack trusted him completely with his daughter.

      In many ways, both Josh and Mick were pseudo-daddies, picking up the slack whenever Zack ran short on time. And they did a great job. They’d helped him get through the loss of his wife, and helped even more in the transition from grief to thankfulness, because despite losing his wife, he still had Dani, and that was a lot, more than he’d ever asked of life.

      Zack had inadvertently wandered down a maudlin path, so he changed the subject while dealing out the cards. “Mick, did Josh tell you his station is making a charity calendar?”

      “What’s this?” Mick asked.

      Josh picked up his hand, rearranged the cards a few times, then said, “Some pushy promotions broad is organizing the whole thing. She wants a bunch of the men to pose in some cheesy way to go on the calendar, then they’ll sell it and the proceeds will benefit the burn center.”

      “Pushy promotions broad,” Mick repeated slowly, as if savoring the words. “Does this mean she had the audacity to exclude you from modeling?”

      “I never gave her the chance. Anyone who was interested was supposed to call her to set up an appointment.” He peered over his cards at Mick and Zack. “To get ogled, no doubt. Can you believe that?”

      Frowning, Zack asked, “Have you met her?”

      “I don’t need to. I heard all about her from a friend at a different station. She’s a rich daddy’s girl who plays at this charity stuff out of boredom.”

      Mick and Zack shared a look. Mick laid his cards facedown and crossed his arms on the table. “Since when do you care about a woman’s character?”

      “Yeah,” Zack said. “I thought it was the size of her bra cups that attracted you.”

      Josh suddenly looked harassed and annoyed, not that Zack minded after what he’d just been through. About time someone else took a turn on the hot seat.

      “She’s supposedly really beautiful, okay? And I’ve had it with women like that. I want someone more like Delilah.”

      Mick choked and his face turned red.

      “Oh for God’s sake.” Josh quickly got out of Mick’s reach and explained, “I wasn’t—not for a second—saying Delilah’s not beautiful! She is. Flat-out gorgeous.”

      Mick stood, looking far from placated.

      “But she doesn’t go in for all the props. When was the last time Del painted her nails or colored her hair? Never, right? She’s genuine. Well, that’s the type of woman I want.” He waved a hand toward the window. “Wynn what’s-her-name would do, too. I want a natural woman, not a glamour doll who thinks she can crook her little finger and a guy will come running.”

      Mick subsided, but he looked far from appeased.

      Zack shook his head. “Mick, you’re going to have to get a handle on these jealous tendencies of yours. You know Josh won’t poach.”

      “As if it’d do him any good to try!”

      Zack sighed, but it turned into a laugh. “I wasn’t suggesting it would. And seeing as you know that, why do you let his every comment rile you? You know he doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s just how he is.”

      Mick grumbled, “That wasn’t your sentiment when he was trying to seduce Wynn.”

      It was Josh’s turn to choke. “I wasn’t trying to seduce the woman! Hell, all I did was hold her hand.”

      “You’re both nuts,” Zack concluded out loud. “Let’s forget Wynn and the calendar and women in general. Mick, you can go on pining for your wife since I know you can’t help it.” He grinned. “Now, let’s play cards.”

      Three hours later Zack was ready to call it a night. His neck was still stiff and his mind refused to pay attention to his hand, so he’d lost more than he’d won. Mick, too, was yawning, and mumbling that Delilah had likely finished writing for the night. Josh, the only one to look fresh, decided to call a woman from Zack’s house and made plans to visit her that night.

      Mick and Zack both shook their heads.

      The night was cool and crisp and black as pitch when Zack waved goodbye from the doorway. He stood there until the headlights had disappeared out of the driveway, then he locked the door and tidied the kitchen.

      On his way through the house, he picked up toys and drawings and a lone frilly sock peeking out from beneath a chair. He checked all the locks and headed upstairs.

      Dani slept peacefully, her small body barely visible beneath the sheet. Zack smiled and pulled her door closed.

      On his way to his own room he stripped off his shirt and stretched his aching arm and shoulder muscles. He kicked his shoes into the closet, then sat on the edge of the bed to remove his socks. After he turned out the light, he went to the window, breathing in the night air as he unzipped his slacks.

      And from there, in a shaft of moonlight, reclining in the damn hammock like a sexual offering, he saw Wynn. For a single heartbeat lust raged through him, making his blood churn and his imagination grind.

      Then a clearer picture formed; she looked to be sound asleep, which nearly made his mind explode with incredulity. She was a single woman, alone, in a new neighborhood, and she was stupid enough to pass out asleep outside, unprotected.

      Jaw locked, Zack left his room with a stomping stride and iron determination. He’d known the moment he saw her that she was going to be nothing but trouble, both to his sanity and his libido.

       FIVE

      THE WELL-TRIMMED GRASS was wet and slippery beneath his bare feet, and a gentle evening breeze stirred his hair. His temper remained hot; it rose in degrees as he closed in on her.

      Wynn didn’t so much as move an eyelash when he stood directly over her lush, limp body. She had one arm above her head, palm up, her fingers slightly curled. The other drooped over the side of the hammock, almost touching the ground. Those mile-long legs of hers were crossed at the ankle, her feet bare.

      She’d changed clothes.

      Zack surveyed her, at his leisure. Without those piercing hazel eyes watching him or her sharp tongue challenging him, he felt steady, more in control, free to look his fill.

      The halter and shorts were gone, replaced by a long, loose white nightshirt that almost reached her knees. Or at least he thought it was a nightshirt—until he read the front. Lane’s Gym—Workout For A Better Body. Obviously an advertisement for her brother’s gym.

      Clouds drifted across the moon, darkening the sky so that only the faint light from her porch illuminated her. Her lashes looked feathery in the dark shadows, her mouth very, very soft.

      The scent of shampoo and lotion rose from her warm body to mingle with the damp night scents.

      Zack felt himself reacting to the sight of her, and it angered him. “Wynn.”

      She didn’t move.

      He didn’t want to touch her. “Damn it, Wynn, wake up.”

      Her lashes stirred and a soft sound escaped her slightly parted lips, causing his abdomen to clench, his pulse to race. Then she resettled herself with a husky groan.

      Zack’s eyes flared. His stomach knotted with carnal awareness. He reached down and caught her shoulder for a brisk shake. “Damn it to hell, Wynn, will you get your ass awake before I—oompf!”

      One