Hard to Handle (34 page)

She didn't quite look at him. “I called a cab. I'm going to wait outside.”

Harley thought his head would hit the roof. He worked his jaw, trying to find words while Stasia just stood there, her makeup smudged from the night before, her hair tangled, her expression…wounded.

“God damn it.”

She flinched.

He wanted to put his fist through the wall, and he wanted to take her back to bed and pretend the morning hadn't happened. “How much did he pay you?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“What?” He forced a laugh that sounded sick even to his own ears. “You enjoyed tormenting me so much, you did it for free?”

Now
she looked at him. Her eyes narrowed. “You're angry, Harley. And I can understand that. But if you'd stop to think—”

“Then what? I'll realize you had only my best interests at heart?”

Her mouth firmed. “I refuse to get into a big blowup with you this close to your title fight.” She turned her back on him and went out the front door.

Harley couldn't believe it. He rounded on Satch, but his uncle held up both hands. “I haven't paid her a dime.”

“So you still owe her?”

Looking confounded, Satch crossed his arms. “I don't really know. We never set a price, and she's never asked me about it.” He looked down at the floor. “In fact, she told me she wouldn't be your life coach unless you accepted her.”

“In bed?”

“No!” Infuriated, Satch said, “Damn, boy, get your brain out of the bedroom, will you?”

Harley ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Fine. Explain yourself, damn it.”

Glaring at Harley with every other step, Satch paced across the kitchen floor. “I meant as a life coach. She was real clear on that. She said it wouldn't work unless you accepted her and wanted to work with her.”

“And I didn't.”

Brows furrowing down, Satch said, “So maybe she wasn't working for me.”

Harley considered howling. “Then
why
the hell did you think she was?”

“She showed up.” He lifted his shoulders. “Back at Echo Lake, when I told her I wanted to hire her, she said no because you never wanted to see her again and she didn't want to bug you. I told her to think about it. She said if you contacted her, proving that you weren't opposed to talking with her, she'd maybe come here and try to convince you to work with her.”

“Jesus.”

“I know you called her, Harley. So when she showed up, I just assumed…” He jutted out his chin. “Well, what else was I supposed to think? You told me she wasn't your type.”

“She's not.” God knew, Anastasia Bradley was nothing like any other woman he'd been with.

“If she wasn't here for that, then why was she?”

“Hell if I know.” Harley strode to the front door and got it opened just in time to see Stasia get into a cab. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

He stood there in the cold, but she never once looked back.

H
ARLEY
called the hotel a half hour later, but didn't get an answer. Throwing on the rest of his clothes, he rode over there and beat on Stasia's door.

She didn't answer.

He didn't know what to think, but damn it, he hated that she had him tied into knots. He was pacing in the foyer when Barber emerged from his room and spotted him.

He was practically strutting, and when he got alongside Harley, he said, “My night went well. Yours?”

“I'm not in the mood, so don't start.”

Barber did a double take. “What's your problem?”

“I'm sick to death of everyone nosing into my damned business.”

Giving him a long look, Barber muttered, “Well, fuck you, too.” And he headed for the coffeepot set up near the front desk.

Feeling like an ass, Harley stomped up next to him. “I'm sorry. Anastasia is…missing.”

“Again, huh? You should really keep better track of her.”

“Barber…”

His friend grinned. “Relax. She's pulling into the lot right now.” He nodded at the front window.

Harley watched her emerge from her truck, pick her way slowly across the lot, and all but creep inside.

“What's wrong with her?” Barber asked.

Harley walked away without answering. Until he opened the door for her, Stasia hadn't noticed him. When she did, she blanched, tucked in her chin, and forged past him in a stiff-legged walk.

“Where were you?”

“I went to get my truck.”

“You need to see a doctor for those burns.”

“No,” she said, glancing back at him. “I don't.” She dismissed him again and continued on.

“We're going to talk, Stasia.”

“Your uncle didn't hire me.”

Well, hallelujah. “I've already figured that one out for myself. So why don't you tell me why you're here?”

She got to her door, unlocked it, and stepped inside. “My burns aren't bad, I promise, but I really need to get out of my jeans.”

“Hell of an idea.” He pushed inside against her protests and shut the door. “Do you think a cool bath would help?”

“I'm not changing in front of you, Harley.”

“Why not? I've seen every inch of you.” Hands on his hips, Harley faced her. “I can keep my hands to myself.” Maybe.

She shook her head. “I'd like you to leave, please.”

“I'd like to talk to you.” Hating himself, Harley sat on her bed. “Don't you think you could give me that much?”

Her neck stiffened. “Fine.” She turned her back on him, rummaged in a drawer, and took out a nightshirt. “I'm changing in the bathroom first.”

“Need any help?”

“No.” Face hot, Stasia went around the bed and into the bathroom.

Harley forced himself to lounge back on her bed. He wanted to see her thighs, to ensure she wasn't hurt worse than she'd said. But he owed it to her to respect her privacy.

When she came back out fifteen minutes later, she had her makeup washed off, her hair brushed and pulled into a ponytail, and her legs were bare.

She perched on the edge of the bed beside him.

Fighting the urge to touch her, Harley sat up on one hip. “How are the burns?”

“Superficial at most. They sting, but no blisters. I'll be fine in a few hours, I'm sure.”

With her head bent forward, Harley could see the baby-fine hairs on her nape. His heart beat too hard. “Will it offend you too much if I look for myself?”

One shoulder lifted, and she turned her face toward him. “As you said, I have nothing left to hide from you.”

Why did it sound like she was talking about more than the details of her body? Torturing himself with the nearness, Harley braced one arm behind her back, leaned over her shoulder, and reached around to lift her shirt.

The sight of her burned thighs hurt him. “Damn. Still pretty red.”

“I put some ointment on that's supposed to help.”

“I hope it does.” Her thighs were smooth, too pink, and shiny with the medicine. He wanted to kiss her.

“Your uncle startled me so badly.” Their faces were near enough, he could feel her breaths. “I thought it was you, and I was shoring up my courage to face you.”

“Courage?”

“The night had ended, and I was still there. I didn't know how you'd feel about that. But I can read you pretty good.”

“You think so?”

She nodded. “If you were dreading the proverbial morning after, I knew I'd see it on your face.” She half-laughed. “Instead, it was your uncle, and he was furious, and all hell broke loose.”

“And you burned yourself.”

She hesitated, then pushed up off the bed and moved away from him. Wrapping her arms around herself, she accused, “You actually thought I'd work for your uncle.”

No way was Harley going to be pulled into a verbal trap. “You said it yourself—all hell broke loose. I didn't have much time to think either way.” Some facts remained. “He did ask you to work for him, though.”

Restless, she strode to the dresser and straightened a few items there. “He wanted me to encourage you to do those things that he felt would advance your profile in the organization.”

“The photo shoots, the exposé, the interviews?”

“Yes.”

Memories intruded. “That little conflict you two had at the gym. You told me that you thought my uncle was too intrusive.”

“Yes. Satch approached me there and told me I should be working harder to get you to do the promo spots. We…disagreed on that.”

Not once could Harley recall her urging him to make a decision one way or the other. “Instead, you just accompanied me for most of them.”

“You're the one who said you didn't want to have to deal with other women.”

“Mostly,” Harley told her, disliking her defensive stance, “I wanted to keep you around until I knew the police had caught whoever it was hassling you.”

“Very noble of you.” Her sarcasm came back in spades. “So it wasn't that you wanted me in your bed?”

Why did she have to try to nail him down? He shrugged. “That, too.”

“Well, as enjoyable as you are, I came here to try to help you.” She flashed him an antagonistic look. “Not that you'd appreciate it. But I realized in a very short time that your uncle intruded too much into your life.”

“Anyone with eyes can see that, honey. Doesn't take a psychic. Or a life coach.” He tipped his head, studying her. “Family does that sometimes. But you put up with more from a relative than you would anyone else.”

Her lips compressed. “I understand that.”

“Do you?”

“Of course. I was hoping to help you work out a way to break free of him without injuring his pride. I know he means well, but he's got you so distanced from emotion, from the real you, that he's causing you more unhappiness than helping.”

“And you called me noble? Hell, woman, you should be sainted.” She made him sound so dependent, so pathetic, that Harley couldn't take it. Distanced from emotion? Is that what she really thought? “You gave up everything, including paying jobs, just to come save me?”

“Harley—”

He laughed. “And look at your reward for all that sacrifice.”

She squared off with him. “Looks like we were both misguided.”

“Speak for yourself. I've always known exactly what I was doing.”

“No. You've let what happened with Sandy color your life. You blame your current attitude on missing the title shot, but if you're honest, you'll admit that isn't true.”

“I think you see what you want to see.”

Sadness slumped her shoulders. “Well, there haven't been any attacks or mishaps for a while, so I can leave without you having a single reason to worry.” Lips trembling, she went to the closet and dragged out a suitcase. “In fact, since you're flying out tomorrow for Vegas, I may as well get out of here today.”

The hell she would. “You agreed to accompany me to the party, and it's tomorrow night.”

Keeping her back to him, she said, “Ain't happening, Harley.”

One way or another, Harley knew he had to convince her. Until he sorted out his thoughts and decided exactly what he wanted, he couldn't bear the thought of letting her go.

“You want me to look like a fool?” Taking the suitcase from her, he shoved it back in the closet. “Is that it?”

Stasia glared up at him. “What are you talking about now?”

“Every damn bit of exposure lately has included you. Everyone has jumped to the assumption that we're a hot couple. So now, days before I fight, you want to fall out of the public eye?” He shook his head. “What will people think?”

“You don't care what anyone thinks!”

Harley looked her in the eyes and told a laudable untruth. “That doesn't mean I want people thinking I got dumped again. Like you said, it was bad enough being dissected when Sandy switched alliances. I don't relish going through that again.”

A hand to her forehead, Stasia paced away. “But…now it
will
be awkward.”

“Not for me.”

That earned him a searing glare. “Bully for you, but I'm not as cold-hearted as you are.”

Harley eased closer to her. “Meaning what, exactly?” Was she in love with him? He held his breath and waited.

She put her chin up. “I'm insulted.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Because I had two seconds of doubt? I think you'll get over that, don't you?”