Hart and Soul Page 8

  Adrenaline still rushed through Hart. He swiped a forearm over his face, realized his Windbreaker was ripped, and took it off to toss it toward his car. Caroline still sat there, wide-eyed and distressed, watching him.

  He could almost feel sorry for her, except that she’d helped to set this up.

  Dex walked up with a video camera. “Good job, Hart,” he said without faltering in his recording. “I got it all.”

  Caroline started to wail.

  “What do we do with her?” Hart asked.

  Lisa stepped out from behind Dex. She wore a trench coat tied at the waist and with the collar up, and held a matching umbrella over her head.

  “You definitely don’t let her go, or show her any sympathy, Hart Winston. Not if you know what’s good for you.”

  Rain dripped down Hart’s back and off the end of his nose, and all he could do was stare. “Lisa?”

  Dex shrugged. “She insisted on coming along. Even crouched in the mud with me without complaining.”

  Hart looked at her feet and saw mud staining her boots and the bottom of her jeans, almost to her knees. She twirled the umbrella as if the wet conditions didn’t bother her at all. Her gaze took in everything with fascination.

  “I didn’t expect you to be here.” In fact, Hart could barely believe it. Why wasn’t she at her apartment, warm and dry?

  “I didn’t want to miss anything.” After scowling at Caroline, she smiled at Hart. “You looked incredible.”

  Pride swelled inside him. He always enjoyed the applause of the crowd, but praise from Lisa meant so much more.

  “You’re okay?” She looked him over, saw he was soaked, and shook her head. “You hit the ground really hard.”

  “I’m fine.” Hell, he was better than fine. Lisa had come to him out of concern. That had to mean something, right? Then it occurred to him . . . had she seen Caroline kissing him again?

  A police car screeched onto the scene. Dragging Tyler along, Joe greeted the officers, and to Hart it appeared he knew the men, or at least had already introduced himself.

  Dex showed them some footage, and the cops wasted no time putting the men—and Caroline—in handcuffs.

  Knowing his window of opportunity was limited, Hart moved closer to Lisa. “How long have you been here?”

  With one disgusted look at Caroline, she said, “Long enough to know that you have deplorable taste in women.”

  “Not true.” Looping his hands around her neck, he kissed her nose and hoped some blunt honesty would win her over. “I fell for you, didn’t I?”

  She froze for a heartbeat. Through the rain-sprinkled lenses of her glasses, her eyes widened. “You did?”

  He couldn’t blame her for being surprised. Until tonight, when he’d spent more time thinking of her than of the task at hand, he hadn’t fully understood either.

  Joe and Dex had known, though, the buttheads. “Oh, yeah, I did. Big time.”

  “Oh.” She smiled and, without reciprocating, collected herself. “I suppose now the police are here, you’ll have to answer questions and all that?”

  Had he spooked her with that declaration? Damn it, didn’t she feel the same? Floundering, Hart frowned at her. She’d once accused him of being insecure. Well, screw that. Tonight, when he had her alone, he’d find out exactly how she felt.

  “The cops will want to talk to me, yeah. And I need to call Drew.”

  Holding the umbrella over his head, she touched his chest. “When I saw it was raining, I grabbed you a dry shirt. It’s in Dex’s car.”

  So thoughtful. “Thanks.”

  She bit her lip. “Do you think they’ll mind if I come along?”

  Tugging her closer, Hart borrowed her warmth, inhaled her scent. “It might take a while. Wouldn’t you rather go home and get comfortable?”

  She shook her head as she reached for his mouth, using her thumb to swipe over his bottom lip. When Hart realized she was wiping away Caroline’s lipstick—again—he groaned. Until Lisa said, “I’d rather be with you, Hart.” Her gaze met his. “Always.”

  As far as declarations went, that one nearly took him to his knees.

  It was damn near midnight before they returned to Lisa’s apartment. Hart should have been exhausted, but instead . . . he was anxious.

  He wanted things cemented between them. And he wanted to make love to her, right now. All night.

  She dropped her purse, stripped off her raincoat, and hung it on a coat tree, then set aside her dirty boots. Rolling her neck, stretching her arms, she said, “God, I’m beat. And I have to be at the office early tomorrow.”

  Hart crossed his arms and faced off with her. She’d said she wanted to be with him, so she could damn well start right now. “I hope you’re not hinting that I should head back to my place, because I’m not budging.”

  Expression enigmatic, she moved to him and started working on his shirt. “Actually, after knowing how close you came to be being hurt—”

  “It was never close, damn it.” And that wasn’t bragging, just plain truth.

  “I mean, if you hadn’t known about the attack.” She peeled his shirt away, and her hands dropped to his waistband.

  Hart liked to think he would have fared just fine regardless, but part of that was the invincible attitude he’d always had, an attitude that made him a daring athlete—and a good fighter.

  Without looking at him, she said, “I’d like you to stay with me.”

  Hart smoothed back her damp hair. “Tonight?”

  She nodded.

  “And tomorrow night? And the night after?”

  She raised a brow. “You’re rushing things.”

  “I’ll be going out of town soon, remember? Training, and then fighting.” But Brad Emery would no longer be part of the competition. He not only faced criminal charges that would keep him busy in court, but he’d also worn out his welcome with the SBC. Brad’s fighting days, at least in the best organizations, were over.

  Rather than discuss his trip, she said, “We need a shower.”

  Well . . . yeah. That’d work. But damn it, he had important things to discuss with her. Before she could leave him, Hart caught her hand and swung her around. “I won’t let you distract me with sex.”

  “Oh, really?”

  Hart looked at her big dark eyes, at the challenge there, and gave up. “You aren’t going to make this easy on me, are you?”

  “Tell you what, Skippy.” She smiled and draped her arms around his neck. “Define fallen for me, and maybe it’ll get easier.”

  He had no idea what she was talking about.

  Rolling her eyes, Lisa explained, “You said you’d fallen for me.”

  “Big-time,” he confirmed.

  “So explain fallen.”

  She wanted the words? Words he’d given only to family, words never spoken in the romantic sense?

  Hart found that it wasn’t nearly as difficult as he’d always suspected. “I love you.”

  She was so startled, her glasses slipped down her nose. “You do?”

  Grinning, feeling like a million bucks, he picked her up and swung her around. “Yeah, I love you.” And he stressed again, “Big-time.”

  Her bottom lip quivered. “Oh Hart, I . . .”

  Tears? He winced, waiting.

  “I’ve loved you for so long.”

  His tension lifted. “No shit?”

  Nodding, she said, “No shit.”

  Her easy admission thrilled him. “That’s great. So . . . we can move in together?”

  “Yes.” She threw herself against him. “And I want to be there when you fight. Is that okay?”

  “On one condition.” Hart headed for the shower. He kissed her, and then kissed her again.

  Lisa pushed him back. “What’s the condition?”

  “Stop calling me Skippy.”


  Apologetic, she asked, “It really does offend you?”

  Hell, yes, it did. “Joe told me why you say it, but it no longer fits.” He stood her in the bathroom, wrapped her in his arms, and smiled down at her. “Because from now on, Lisa, I promise I’m staying put.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lori Foster is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of many contemporary romances.

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  LoriFoster.com

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