Ultimate: No Limits Part 11

She reseated herself in the same chair she'd had earlier. "I don't want to intrude."

What the h.e.l.l did that mean? "You're not." How could she intrude when he wanted to spend every available moment with her? And thinking that, he took his phone from his pocket. "Before I forget, what's your number? I don't like not being able to reach you."

Lifting her chin, she asked, "Do I get your number, too, then?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." Clearly that surprised her. "I just a.s.sumed... I mean, you're famous now. I didn't think you'd want your number out there."

He slanted her a sideways look. "Yeah, don't post it on Facebook or anything like that."

"I wouldn't!"

A perfect segue.

Sitting across from her, he kept a little distance between them this time. Otherwise he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep his hands to himself.

That one kiss... It shouldn't have been a big deal, but he'd completely lost himself. He'd meant to make it a small taste, to tease her, to appease his curiosity.

Instead he'd teased himself, and his curiosity was now at a fever pitch.

With little involvement on her part, he'd forgotten everything except Yvette, her taste, her touch, the comfort of having her close.

Unsettling, to be sure.

Everything she did, every facial expression, each small gesture, seemed specifically designed to turn him on. He knew it wasn't deliberate.

And that only made it more disturbing.

"Speaking of Facebook..."

She frowned. "Were we?"

"Who's Heath?"

She did a double take. "How do you-"

No reason to lie about it. "An alert popped up on your phone."

Scowling, she s.n.a.t.c.hed the phone off the table, tapped the screen a few times, quickly read and then went still with disquieting resolve.

"Yvette?"

That false smile slid back into place, leading the way toward feigned composure. She inhaled, blew it out as if gearing up. "He's no one. A guy I dated for a little while."

Bulls.h.i.+t. "He's the one you said you broke up with before going to the fight?"

She shook her head. "No, that was someone else."

Jealousy p.r.i.c.kled, d.a.m.n it. So she got around. He'd figured as much. Just looking at her, even with her not trying to look her best, he knew guys would flock to her.

Hoping to make light of it, he said, "Left a lot of broken hearts behind, huh?"

"No. No one's heart was involved." She chewed her bottom lip, then launched into more explanations. "I broke things off with Heath long before Grandpa pa.s.sed. It wasn't working out."

"How so?"

That stalled her again.

Making him a little nuts, she nibbled her lip again in what he now recognized as nervousness. Cannon couldn't stop himself from reaching out, smoothing with his thumb, freeing that soft flesh from the sharp bite of her teeth.

As his fingers cradled her face and his thumb drifted over her mouth, she went perfectly still, her eyes wary. Against his fingers, her cheek warmed.

Sliding his hand back into her damp hair, he relished the warmth and silkiness of her neck. "You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"

Her forced laugh bothered him more than her uncertainty. "There's nothing to tell." She caught his wrist. "And really, Cannon, I keep telling you I'm not that scared, clingy kid anymore."

"I'm glad." They sat like that for several heartbeats, his hand curved around her nape, her slender fingers holding his thick wrist. With one more caress, he retreated. "But if anything comes up, I'm here."

"Here, in the house."

Here, in her life-whether she wanted to accept that yet or not. "Since we're sharing the house for now, we should keep each other up on plans, don't you think? If we head off to different places, I'll tell you when to expect me back." That way, she wouldn't be spooked when she heard him coming in.

"You aren't accountable to me."

d.a.m.n it, why did she insist on fighting him over every little detail? "It's considerate," he told her. "I'd expect you to do the same."

As she thought about it, she licked her lips-and he had to swallow back a groan. d.a.m.n, but he wanted to kiss that mouth again, taste her deeper, longer.

All over.

He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Your buddy, Heath."

"Not my buddy." She set the phone on the table- facedown. "What about him?"

"He wasn't thrilled to see you in a picture with me."

She shrugged as if that didn't matter. "He's tried to get back with me a few times."

The understated way she explained that told more than she meant it to. Apparently old Heath was still hung up on her. Not that Cannon could blame him. "You're not interested?"

She huffed a short laugh. "No. Definitely not."

Unwilling to let it go, Cannon s.h.i.+fted. "He seemed angry."

"I think he misunderstood the picture-"

"No, he didn't."

Her widened eyes locked with his. She started to reply, but appeared to have run out of words.

Cannon didn't mind explaining it to her. "Guys have a sixth sense about stuff like this. Poor old Heath knows what I want, and he's not happy about it."

"What you...?" She cleared her throat, frowned. "Don't be ridiculous." Then, worrying a little, her voice small and hesitant, she asked, "What is it you want?"

"You."

As if the one-word statement had grabbed her, she pressed back in the chair and locked her hands on the seat at either side of her hips.

"I kissed you, Yvette. Not a friendly, token peck either." And she'd kissed him back with enthusiasm-until she'd caught herself. He narrowed his eyes, determined to make her accept the truth. "My tongue was in your mouth, and we both liked it."

More heat stained her cheeks; a pulse went wild in her pale throat.

Interesting. "You had to know."

Worse than denying it, she said, "It doesn't matter."

The h.e.l.l it didn't.

Intrigued by her reaction but not overly concerned, Cannon tipped his head to study her. One way or another, he'd win her over. For the foreseeable future he'd be under the same roof with her, in close proximity. Anything and everything could happen.

He'd see to it.

Eventually he'd find that girl who had adored him, the one who'd wanted him enough to rely on him, to trust him completely.

But for now, he hoped to wade through her denials without scaring her off. "It matters to me."

"Cannon, please." She pressed fingertips to her temples. "You're throwing too much at me at one time."

True. She'd just lost her grandfather. Moved from California. Inherited a house and a business.

On top of all that, he'd moved in on her. To the world he could claim friendly, caring motives. The need to protect her from fear, from ugly memories, definitely existed.

But being honest with himself, he had to admit his intent centered mostly on getting her in bed. If he weren't so raw with needing her, if it didn't feel as if he'd suffered three years of heavy foreplay, he might have backed off, given her some s.p.a.ce.

But he couldn't.

He could, however, slow things down and give her a little more breathing room. "Let's start with exchanging info." After she got comfortable with having him around, then they could move on to exchanging more. A lot more. "If anything comes up with the legality of the property, we'll need to be able to find each other, right?"

"What would come up?"

No time like the present. He only hoped he could steer her in the right direction. "Mindi Jarrett called."

With a barely perceptible glitter, her eyes went from wary to antagonistic. "Who?"

Jealousy sounded in the tight query. Nice. He hated suffering alone. "The lawyer's a.s.sistant."

"Oh." For a brief second, her thick lashes swept down as she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she muttered, "Sorry."

Hiding his chuckle wasn't easy. "She has an offer for us."

"An offer for...?"

"The p.a.w.nshop. I didn't ask how much. She wanted me to come meet her but I told her I'd talk to you and we'd both go. I'm supposed to call her back."

She pushed out of the chair to pace. "I didn't expect an offer so quickly. I've only driven by there once. I don't really know what it's worth or..."

"Or if you want to sell?"

She flagged a hand in the air. "We have to sell."

Maybe. Leaning back against the table, Cannon crossed his ankles and watched her nervous stride around the small kitchen. "What is it you do?"

"Do?"

"For a living."

"Oh, right." She went to the sink-as far from him as she could get without actually leaving the room. Leaning back in a pose similar to his own, she said, "I'm an eBay vendor." Without him asking, she explained. "I learned a lot working at the p.a.w.nshop, and eBay seemed like an easy way to use what I know. I take things from other people and auction them with a commission paid to me. But I also buy stuff at yard and estate sales, and overstock items to resell."

"You make a living doing that?"

"I wasn't getting rich, but I was able to live on my own and save for a rainy day." Restless, she pushed off from the sink to pace again. "My friend Vanity works with me. We can both do any of the work, but mostly I take care of acquiring and listing the stuff with photos, and she mails off or delivers it after the sale. In fact, she'll continue to do that with my remaining stock in California."

"Vanity?" Unusual name for a girl.

Yvette nodded while tracking the perimeter of the kitchen, much like a caged pet. Her long stride drew his gaze repeatedly to her legs and her bare feet. Her vibrating energy was another new facet that he enjoyed.

"Vanity Baker. She's gorgeous-you'd like her."

"You're gorgeous." And I more than like you.

A smile teased her mouth. "Thank you, but Vanity is different. She's a stereotypical California surfer. Tall, toned and tanned, with really long blond hair and...well, she's stacked. She could be a living Barbie doll except that she despises anything pink."

Not getting the reference, Cannon asked, "Pink?"

"Yeah, you know. Barbie has a pink car, a pink scooter, a pink house with pink furniture and so on." She wrinkled her nose. "Everything is a Pepto-Bismol shade of pink."

"Never realized."

She cast him a look. "Your sister wasn't into Barbie?"

"I don't know. Maybe." He wanted her to understand something. "However pretty you think your friend is-"

"She's beyond pretty, believe me. Men stop and stare."

He shook his head. "They do that to you, too, Yvette."

"Not really." Parking at the sink again, she locked her hands together and flipped back her hair. "I guess you'd just have to meet Vanity to see what I mean."