Still grinning, Stack held up his hands in understanding. Jokes about a casual hookup were no big deal, but with Cherry it was more than that. "If you don't want me to do the class, then I'm heading out for some relief sooner rather than later."

"Will you at least think about talking to Vanity?"

He ran a hand over his face. "I'll think about her all right, even when I shouldn't be if you know what I mean, but talking won't be in the equation."

Denver gave an exaggerated wince. "Just don't admit to your lady friend that you're picturing another woman."

"Yeah, I'm distracted, not stupid." He grabbed up his gym bag. "That's the kind of loose talk that could put an end to friends with benefits."

Denver headed back out to the main area with Stack. His class would start in just a few minutes.

The high school boys were already in place, warming up, goofing around with the heavy bag, all in all being healthy, athletic guys. Denver was headed toward them when, one by one, he saw them look toward the door.

His neck prickling with unease, Denver turned-and found Pamela Barnett Lewis standing there.

The quintessential evil stepmother.

Claws of hostility soured his mood. Disdain overshadowed exhaustion.

He did not need this shit today.

Of course she made a smiling beeline for him, looking around as she strode elegantly across the floor.

At twenty-nine, she was only four years older than him-making her twenty-three years younger than his dad.

Straight red hair, the color enhanced by a pricey salon, hung loose to skim just below her shoulder blades. The curve-hugging dress and high-heeled sandals showcased her body.

Behind him a whisper sounded and Denver realized that not only the high school seniors were ogling her. When Pamela walked in, she deliberately drew attention, so now most every male in the place was appreciating her curves and poise.

Right before she reached him, he called out to Stack, who'd paused at the reception desk on his way out to talk briefly with Gage's wife, Harper.

Stack looked at him, then at Pamela. Curiosity lifted his brows high as he said one last thing to Harper and headed over.

"Hello, Denver."

For the moment, Denver ignored her. "Sorry, Stack, but I might need you for a few minutes after all."

"Sure." He started away, but of course Pamela didn't let him.

"Hello." She held out her manicured hand. "I'm Pamela Barnett Lewis, Denver's stepmother."

She stressed the relationship, waiting for Stack to show his shock, to tell her she was too young, anything, as long as it was a big reaction.

But still Stack didn't take the bait. He accepted her hand in a brief greeting, said, "Ma'am," with enough respect for a grandmother, and excused himself to get the boys going.

Damn, he had terrific friends.

Puzzled, Pamela gave a reasonable facsimile of a frown without actually puckering her perfect brow. "Denver-"

"This way," he said, unwilling to have any discussion with her, for any reason, out in the open. Not bothering to see if she'd follow or not, he headed for the breakroom.

The click of her heels right behind him made him feel stalked. When he finally got into the room with relative privacy he released a pent-up breath.

Pulling out a chair, he seated himself and waited for her to do the same.

She tsked. "You still haven't learned any manners."

Censure from her was laughable.

But sitting was a bad move on his part because instead of taking a seat, she propped her hip on the table-right next to him.

Letting his revulsion show, Denver pushed back his chair and stood.

Her long sigh sounded both seductively breathy and reproachful. "I see you're still holding a grudge, too."

"There's no grudge."

Lined green eyes taunted him. "Your father chose me over you and you're understandably bitter."

One step brought him nose to nose with her. Low, his anger somehow fresh and still raw, Denver said, "Who he fucks is his business. But when you try to fuck me, it becomes my business, too."

"I was young."

"You were a lot of things. Let's not go through the list."

Her voice rose with her snapping temper. "Can't you be civil for even five minutes?"

Apparently not. Taking a step back, he crossed his arms. "What do you want, Pamela?"

With an effort, she pulled herself together, needlessly toying with her hair and smoothing the short skirt of her dress. If he didn't know better, he'd almost believe her act of distress.

"Your father's birthday is coming up and I expect you home for his party."

Denver barely heard the words since Pamela said them while ogling his body. His eyes narrowed.

She caught herself and actually flushed. "I'm sorry. It's just...it appears you've gotten even bigger."

His jaw locked.

She gasped. "I don't mean... I wasn't..." Stammering didn't suit her. She righted herself and said with formality, "Clearly you've been taking good care of yourself."

His mood growing more frigid by the moment, Denver considered walking out on her. But she was so tenacious she might follow, and then he'd be back out in public with her again. "I'll try giving Dad a call, but we both know he doesn't want to talk to me."

"No, a call isn't enough." She took a stance. "I'm having an intimate family party and that means you, dear son, need to be there."

SOON AS SHE saw Armie pull up, Cherry raced out to meet him. Holding her purse close to her side, avoiding the deeper puddles, she bopped along the sidewalk like a woman on a mission. The light sprinkling rain, she decided, wouldn't be so bad as long as she didn't linger.

Unfortunately, halfway to Armie, the skies opened up and a deluge of freezing rain, carried on a high wind, drenched her to the skin.

Armie threw open the door. "Damn, Cherry, why didn't you wait for me?"

As she jumped in, he handed her several napkins that she used to dry her face and throat, then she immediately wrapped her arms around herself to try to fight off the shivers. "What would you have done? Gotten drenched, too?"

"I have an umbrella and a windbreaker."

"Oh." Yeah, her umbrella was in her car. So dumb. "I'm getting your seats soaked."

"They'll dry." Reaching into the backseat, he dug out the nylon windbreaker and handed it to her, then slowly pulled forward with the line of cars picking up kids.

"Bless you." The jacket didn't do much to help, but it was better than nothing. After she had it on, she buckled her seatbelt.

"Want me to turn up the heat?"

"No, that's okay." He was in no more than a T-shirt and looked comfortable. No reason to roast him. "Once I get to the rec center someone will have a T-shirt I can change into." Maybe even Denver, although his shirts were enormous on her, better suited for a nightshirt than to wear in public.

"I thought I was taking you home."

"Denver wanted me to meet him there." It was along the way, closer than her house. "Do you mind?"

"I was going back anyway. But what about your car?"

"You can't look at it in this rain."

"Why not?" He grinned at her. "I know I'm sweet, but I won't melt."

"No, absolutely not."

"You don't think I'm sweet?"

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Yes, you're very, very sweet. And I appreciate the offer, I really do. But my car is on the street, not in the garage, and I can't let you fiddle with it in this storm."

His fingers drummed the steering wheel. "Okay, then how about tomorrow?" He cut off her reply to add, "That is, if Denver doesn't see to it himself."

"Maybe." If possible, she'd get it figured out on her own without burdening either of them. "I hope this storm lets up soon."

"Don't hold your breath." Rain lashed the windshield, making the wipers almost useless, and wind buffeted the car, howling around them. He glanced at her, then fought another grin. "You might want to make use of the mirror before we get there. You're looking a little...smudged."

She pulled down the visor-and screeched. "Good heavens. I'm glad you told me."

"It's not that bad," he said, while fighting a laugh.

"Yeah, for a clown!" Luckily she had makeup in her purse, and with Armie driving so slowly by necessity, she was able to do a few repairs. It wasn't enough-she still looked a wreck-but it was better.

One of these days Denver would again get to see her at her best-independent, strong and put together.

Sadly, today was not that day.

AFTER MENTALLY WRESTLING his temper under control, Denver prepared his arguments, looking for sound reasons to refuse Pamela other than the obvious ones. He didn't want her to know that he still harbored animosity.

He didn't want her to know he felt anything at all for her-good or bad.

It was enough that he had to live with the damage she'd done to him. Because of her, his relationship with his father had been forever changed. He loved his dad. In most ways, he respected him.

But when it came to his second marriage, Denver had nothing but contempt.

"I don't like it when you're quiet this long," Pamela said. "It usually means you're thinking horrible things about me."

"Wrong. I don't think about you at all." He turned and walked to the open door, giving her his back. "I was just wondering what Dad will think of your invite. He might not thank you for asking me back."

Her hand touched his shoulder, making him stiffen in revulsion.

"He misses you, Denver. You should know that."

Yeah, that's why he called so often. How long had it been? Going on five years now. Long years.

He shook his head-and shrugged off her hand. "Paws to yourself, Pamela."

"It was a commiserating gesture."

Laughing, Denver turned to look at her. She wore the perfect expression of remorse mixed with hope. He marveled at it, saying softly, "If I didn't already know what a lying...witch you are, I would almost be convinced."

"Witch," she repeated, her facial muscles drawing tight despite her effort to hide emotion. "I appreciate the censorship on that one."

"We both know the truth, no reason to belabor the point."

Tensed to strike him, Pamela barely held herself in check.

He almost hoped she'd do it. Then he could tell her to fuck off and be done with it.

Instead she drew a deep breath, shook back her hair, and stabbed him with her rock-steady gaze. "I can guarantee you that he wants you there."

"Just like you guaranteed me no one would ever know if we fucked?" He straightened. "The way you guaranteed me that my dad would never get hurt?" Growing anger took him one step forward. "The way you guaranteed him of your innocence?"

Her chin quivered. "You're scaring me, Denver."

"Lady, a fucking typhoon wouldn't scare you."

She ducked around him and into the open hallway leading back to the gym.

Smirking, Denver took a step out, wanting her to run, hoping she'd run all the way back out of his life.

Voice shaking, she whispered, "People change, damn you."

"You?" he asked with caustic humor.