"Good." Moving away, she dropped her purse on the couch and stalked into the kitchen. He heard water running and, bothered by the way she stayed so contained, followed her.

She had a bucket in the sink, filling it with soapy water.

Cannon reached around her, turned off the water, and hugged her up to his chest. "That'll only smear it and make it worse. In this heat, it'll be dry in another half hour. Then I can sand it off."

"The door will be ruined."

"So we'll replace it."

"It's all over the porch, too."

"A power washer will get it off."

Through a strained laugh, she leaned back against him. "Do you have an answer for everything?"

"For chickens.h.i.t stuff like this I do." Keeping her close, he turned her in his arms. "You're not going anywhere."

She looked up at him with those big green eyes both sad and sweet, and like every guy everywhere, his reaction was a throbbing b.o.n.e.r.

"Promise me," he said.

"I'm not budging." Patting his chest, she moved away. "But I'm not leaving that paint out there for all the neighbors to see either."

"I can cover it up."

"I'm going to take a picture first." Solemn, she reminded him, "Margaret wanted us to doc.u.ment everything."

So she figured it was Heath, too? "All right."

Together they went out front and took care of it.

After reporting the vandalism to Margaret, he sanded off as much of the paint as he could. It looked terrible, but now no one would know what it had said.

Yvette brought out a sheet and tacked it over the front of the door while he had a quick chat with their closest neighbors. Unfortunately, most of them were elderly and hadn't seen anything.

Or they didn't want to get involved.

If any of the neighbors had businesses in the area, he'd have an in. But they were quiet, retired people who wanted to avoid trouble.

Not a problem. He had a network that could cover a lot of ground. Starting tonight, he'd put as many people on it as he needed to.

"Nothing?" Yvette asked when he rejoined her.

He shook his head. "I should have put a d.a.m.n security camera here, too."

Though she tried to hide it, he could tell the sick prank had distressed Yvette. "I'm the one who should have realized how far Heath might take it. I just never guessed he'd follow me from California. Why he's suddenly being so persistent, I have no idea."

Cannon knew it was because of him. Heath had probably a.s.sumed she'd remain available until he could figure out a way to coax her back to him.

Now, with another man in the picture, he felt threatened.

"We'll both be more careful from now on." He put his arm around her. "Come on."

Once inside he attempted a casual demeanor to conceal his anger. "While I grab a shower, why don't you get something together for us to eat?"

"Got a preference?"

You. No, he shouldn't think that. Especially not with her watching him so expectantly. He'd need to either handle things in the shower-or make it ice-cold. "Something light. Maybe a sandwich?"

"I can handle that." Again she patted his chest, and, d.a.m.n it, it felt too much like a dismissal. "Fifteen minutes?"

He wasn't a chick. "Make it more like seven."

Unwilling to leave her alone for long, he grabbed clean clothes and rushed through a head-to-toe scrubbing. Even with a quick jerk, he was back out of the shower a minute shy of the designated seven.

He'd taken the sharpest bite off the clawing l.u.s.t, but hadn't even come close to denting the possessiveness.

Someone, likely Heath, wanted to scare Yvette. Given the man's obsession, he might even want to hurt her.

Wouldn't happen.

One way or another, Cannon knew he had to put an end to the hara.s.sment.

She was in her designated spot on the couch, a tray of food on the coffee table. Cannon soaked up every nuance of her mood as he joined her. On top of fixing the food, she'd washed up and changed into a long nightshirt. Now, sitting yoga style on the deep cushions, she pulled her hair over her shoulder and with dexterous speed worked it into a braid. She held a band in her teeth and when she reached the ends of her long hair, she secured it.

Her lashes swept up as she faced him. "I wasn't sure if you wanted chips or pickles. I mean, because of your training."

She had both on the tray, so he grabbed up a pickle slice. "This is good, thanks."

She'd cut the sandwiches into little triangles. Cute. He ate the first one in one bite.

She nibbled on hers, and since she wasn't a picky eater, he took that as a sign she was still troubled.

"Want me to run to the p.o.r.n shop for a movie?"

The teasing almost got her to smile, but instead she turned it into a "behave" look.

And that made him smile. a.s.suming he'd have to suffer through some sappy drama, he said, "What, then?"

Picking up the remote, she found an old horror movie. "How about this?"

d.a.m.n, she made it easy to like her. "Looks good."

They settled in for the duration, and thanks to a lot of special-effects blood and the gruesome movie monster, she ended up curled against his side.

He wanted her, so d.a.m.n much, but he didn't know of an easy way to segue from what had happened to seduction.

He was lounged back, legs sprawled, Yvette a warm, soft weight against him, when the movie ended. He started to move-and realized she'd fallen asleep.

Carefully, unwilling to wake her, he eased her down so that her head rested on his thigh. He played his fingers along her braid, then over her shoulder. On her side, she dipped from her shoulders to that small waist, then back up to her rounded hip and down the long length of her slender, shapely legs.

As much as he wanted her naked and under him, he also wanted her to feel secure and safe when with him.

He wanted her to lean on him.

No way in h.e.l.l would he move.

e verY time she looked at Cannon, her temperature spiked.

Partial chagrin, partial desperate need.

She'd fallen asleep on him last night.

The last thing she'd remembered was waiting for him to make a move. But he hadn't. And as much as she hated herself for it, she had to wonder if he'd held back out of consideration for her, maybe thinking she needed more time.

Or because he did.

She'd awakened this morning when he stretched and only then did she realize they were still on the couch. Startled, she'd jerked upright and accidentally head b.u.t.ted him. They'd both groaned, him rubbing his jaw, her rubbing the top of her head.

Cannon always looked drool-worthy, but never more so than in the mornings with beard stubble and dark, rumpled hair and sleep-heavy blue eyes shadowed by long sooty lashes.

When he'd gifted her with that small, s.e.xy smile... Yeah, she'd wanted to demand that he satisfy her. Right there and then.

Instead she'd stayed mute until he'd kissed her softly and headed off to the john.

Remembering, she wanted to groan again.

After that, he'd gotten a call from one of his trainers, a guy named Havoc, who gave him more details on the upcoming fight. She'd made coffee while listening in.

He'd fight again right after Halloween.

That meant he'd have to get back to more rigorous training soon. Full-time. In Kentucky.

Away from her.

And, d.a.m.n it, she missed him already!

With near desperate urgency, she wanted to take advantage of the time they had left. But right after their jog, he'd put in a call to Armie, telling him about the vandalism, and the next thing she knew the guys were there. Guys, plural. Armie, Stack and Denver. Only Miles and Brand were missing, left behind to run the rec center.

They took turns hugging her, commiserating, offering to break heads for her and inadvertently keeping her from jumping Cannon's very s.e.xy bones.

They were all protective, hilariously so, but after Margaret called to say Heath had apparently already checked out, Cannon turned grim. The lieutenant explained that she'd gone to the hotel first thing that morning, but he was no longer registered there.

Either he'd gone back home, or he'd moved locations.

There weren't many places to stay in the small town of Warfield, but just outside their township, in the city limits, there were a variety of hotels to choose from.

If Heath hadn't flown back home, at least he was no longer so close, and that gave her comfort.

To put Cannon more at ease, she called Vanity and requested an update if Heath posted anything on his Facebook. So far, he hadn't.

She could tell it worried Cannon, which in turn made him more demonstrative. He continually touched her, kissed her, watched her.

Now, in the late afternoon, she was still feeling the need.

While Denver and Cannon worked to get the new door installed, Armie and Stack finished loading the last of the boxes from the garage into Cannon's truck. She was just in the way at that point, so she went inside to get more drinks.

With them all helping, the shop was now ready for her to arrange things, the garage was almost empty, the front porch had no signs of paint and...and she felt like crying for no good reason at all. Worry? Relief? A buildup of everything, starting with losing her grandpa and ending with an unknown vandal?

Maybe lack of s.e.xual relief? She blew hair out of her face. Yeah, that could be it, because around Cannon she stayed keyed up.

When Merissa and Cherry dropped in, Yvette heard them before she saw them. Merissa started giving someone directions, and Cherry was flirting, saying those teasing things that seemed to come so naturally to her, but always eluded Yvette.

After adding more ice to the pitcher, she poured herself a tall gla.s.s. Working with the guys now had her sweaty, dusty, grimy and far too emotional.

"Hey."

She looked up to see Armie striding in, his countenance grim.

Lowering the gla.s.s, she asked, "What's wrong?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing." He stepped around her to refill his own drink, then guzzled it down like a man dying of thirst.

"I would have brought that to you."

"I needed the break." He tugged a cobweb out of her hair. "Why are you hiding in here anyway?"

"I'm not hiding." Not exactly. But to keep him from digging, she lifted a brow and asked, "Why are you in here hiding?"

He started to answer, but clammed up when Merissa walked in, muttering, "Coward."

She, too, went for the iced tea.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Armie froze, only his eyes moving as he tracked her approach. As soon as she stepped past him, Yvette saw his attention drop southward-to her backside showcased in snug shorts.

His nostrils flared.

Whoa. Did Cannon know his best friend had a major case for his sister? Doubtful.

Armie shoved his gla.s.s toward Yvette. "Thanks, doll. Better get back to it." And with that he literally fled the kitchen.

Trying to hide her smile, Yvette said, "So what was that all about?"

To her surprise, Merissa slumped. "He despises me for some reason, though for the life of me, I have no idea why."

Yvette could only stare. Seriously? That was what Merissa thought?

If so, she was even more clueless about guys than Yvette.