Fighting Dirty

“Vanity shopped with me.” Vanity was Yvette’s best friend, now Stack’s wife, and a regular fashion plate without trying. “She insisted on the boots.”

“With heels,” Yvette enthused, since Merissa almost always wore flats. “I approve.”

“It’s just that I’m so blasted tall—”

“Like a model.”

“I don’t know.” More often than not, she felt gangly, not model-worthy.

“Trust me,” Yvette said as she laid out the last pieces of cheese on her lunch-meat display. “You’d be terrific. Everything you wear looks amazing on you. You’re slim but still shapely.”

Merissa choked over that. “I’m barely in a B cup. Nothing shapely about that.”

From the kitchen doorway came a sound and Merissa looked up to see Brand, Miles and Leese all standing there grinning at her. They were all three gorgeous, all three buff, all three talented.

But none of them were Armie.

How she felt about them, and vice versa, wasn’t anything close to romantic. But still, heat rushed into her face. After all, they’d just heard her discussing her boobs.

Looking around for a weapon, Merissa grabbed up the dishcloth and threw it at them. “Pretend you didn’t hear that!”

“Too late.” Leese caught the towel, then carried it over to the sink. “Whatever you think you’re missing, let me tell you, it’s all there.” He looked back at the other two fighters. “Am I right?”

“Hell, yeah.”

“Definitely.”

Humiliated, but appreciating their input, Merissa laughed. “You guys are my friends. You have to say that.”

Crossing his heart, Leese insisted, “Honest truth.” He snagged three beers from the fridge, then tossed one to Brand and the other to Miles.

With his sinfully dark gaze moving over her, Brand stepped farther into the kitchen. “And that getup?” He cocked a brow. “Smokin’ hot.”

She suddenly felt very conspicuous in her V-necked tunic sweater, tights and ankle boots.

“There, you see?” Yvette said. “You’re gorgeous. Who cares if you’re not top-heavy?”

She cared.

“It’s the whole package,” Miles insisted. He and Brand both had dark hair, but Miles’s eyes were bright green, his smile crooked, and he flirted with every woman alive. “Trust me.”

Leese ran a hand over his inky-black hair, his pale blue eyes playful. “I’m an ass man, myself.” He winked, letting her know she fit the bill.

It was a wonder she could think at all when surrounded by so many certified hunks. Maybe if she felt about one of them the way she felt about Armie, her life would be easier.

Yvette started forcing them all from the kitchen. “Stop embarrassing her.”

“We were reassuring her,” Brand protested.

The guys dragged their feet, making Yvette work at getting them clear of the door. After they’d gone, Yvette’s smile lingered and her eyes were warm with happiness.

Merissa knew something was going on. Both her brother and Yvette glowed. Setting aside her wine cooler, she asked, “So, what’s up with you and Cannon?”

Humming, Yvette got down a bowl and filled it with chips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Uh-huh.”

Just then Armie stuck his head in the kitchen. “Hey, Yvette...” His voice trailed off when he spotted Merissa.

Expression arrested, Armie’s attention crawled down her body, taking in every detail. His chest expanded on a slow breath. Merissa didn’t move. Seeing him had an entirely different effect on her than she’d had with the other men. Just about everyone had commented on her new duds. But this was Armie. She didn’t want his opinion to matter—yet it did.

Belatedly, his gaze came back up to her face and locked with hers. His jaw flexed. His dark eyes consumed her and just when she thought she’d pass out from lack of oxygen, he started to turn away.

Clearly Armie hadn’t expected to see her and hadn’t wanted to see her. It hurt.

Yvette stopped him. “Armie! Come on in. What would you like to drink?”

With his back to them, he stalled. Muscles shifted in his shoulders, his upper arms—then he very deliberately relaxed and faced them again. The heat in his eyes had cooled to indifference and his cocky smile almost made her believe she’d imagined the tension. “I’m good.”

Merissa snorted. She didn’t mean to. It just came out.

His dark sinner’s gaze zeroed back in on her. “Something funny, Stretch?”

God, how she hated that nickname! It emphasized her height, but worse, it proved that Armie didn’t see her as a desirable woman. “You? Being good?” She snorted again. “I hope I’m not standing close when lightning strikes you.”

Stepping the rest of the way into the kitchen, he said to Yvette, “I’ll take a beer.”

“Sure.” Yvette poured an unsweetened tea. She handed it to Armie, kissed his cheek, then picked up the platter and carried it to the dining room.

Nonplussed, Armie looked at the glass.

Merissa looked at Armie.

Until recently he’d kept his hair bleached almost white, but lately he’d left it alone and now it was back to a more natural dark blond. Still a little spiky, but not such a dramatic contrast to his chocolate-brown eyes. Tattoos lined his forearms, and though she couldn’t see it right now, not with him wearing a shirt, she knew he had another, more understated tat between his shoulder blades.

Faded jeans sat low on his lean hips, hanging a little long over running shoes. Boldly displayed across the front of his snug-fitting black T-shirt were the words FREE ORGASMS.

Merissa cleared her throat. “Don’t like tea?”

“Not particularly.” He set the tea aside and went to the fridge.

With his head stuck inside, Merissa felt free to look over his body. Her gaze went to those colorful tribal tattoos decorating his thick forearms up to his elbows. She didn’t mind them, but she loved the smooth, taut skin over his biceps more. For one startling second his shirt pulled up and she saw a strip of flesh above the waistband of his boxers. Muscles shifted everywhere, sending liquid heat to burn through her system.

She fanned her face. “Yvette is trying to save you from yourself.”

“Lost cause,” Armie muttered as he stepped away with a beer and closed the refrigerator. Leaning back on the table, he popped the tab, lifted the beer to his mouth—and Yvette snatched it away as she reentered the kitchen.

Very sweetly, she said, “Cannon told me you’re on a strict diet for your upcoming fight.”