"So I have your attention?" Denver asked with a low laugh.

"Yeah." Still looking at Vanity, he said to Denver, "I'm listening."

"You remember the creep she's talking to?"

"Dude from Kentucky." Stack scratched his jaw. "Leese Phelps. He was pestering Cherry before I pointed out that you were keeping watch. That seemed to discourage him."

As if the reminder bothered him, Denver worked his jaw. "I need to have a word with him."

Ho, what was this? "I know for a fact Leese struck out, the poor schmuck." That made Denver frown-which had Stack laughing. "Why are you thinking about dismembering him, given that Cherry wasn't interested, much less involved?"

"The others already know, and Cannon was going to tell you tomorrow, but since you're here..."

"Damn, man. Now you've got me curious."

The story Denver shared took care of any humor Stack felt at his predicament. Cherry was a sweet girl. Funny, lively and completely hung up on Denver. Since Denver hadn't seemed to reciprocate, had instead chosen to wallow in misery, it had been a little sad to watch. That was the major reason he and Miles had tried so hard to cheer her up, while also doing their part to needle Denver.

Stack slanted his gaze back to Leese. "Funny that he'd show up here after all that going down."

"If you think that's funny, you must have a twisted sense of humor."

"Nah, Leese is okay. You'll see." Cutting off Denver's curse, Stack said, "Did you notice he's beat all to hell and back? I saw him walk in, and let me tell you, he's moving like a man who went five rounds in the cage and lost them all."

Brows shooting up, Denver twisted in his seat to view Leese with new awareness.

From the back left angle they had, only a few war wounds showed: a big, purple bruise above his ear, with less colorful shading under his eye and across his nose.

"Hell of a coincidence, right?"

"Huh." Denver didn't show any sympathy. If anything he looked a little more volatile.

"So I'm to interrupt and lead Vanity away." Stack said that as if there was no question of her following, but for once in his life, he wasn't sure of his success. "Then you're going to...what? Add more bruises to Leese's black-and-blue camouflage, or just talk?"

"That'll depend on him, now, won't it? But Rowdy already read me the riot act about anything going down in here."

"As if." Denver wasn't a barroom brawler. It wasn't his MO. Then again, he'd never been this strung out on a chick before. The fact that it had taken him and Cherry so long to work out whatever it was keeping them apart only made Denver tetchier when discussing her.

"If necessary, I'll lead him outside."

Lead, as in drag, given the way Denver said it.

If that happened, Stack would follow, because Denver would only end up feeling bad for pulverizing a lesser fighter. That, too, was his MO. He had the greatest sense of fair play Stack had ever run across.

Pushing back his chair, aware of profound anticipation zinging through his bloodstream, Stack affected the cockiness necessary to convince his friend and said, "Give me two minutes."

Vanity Baker had only recently moved to the area and joined their group. Hailing from California, she had the surfer-girl look with crazy long, pale blond hair, a light tan, sexy toned legs that went on forever and curves that'd showcase any bikini. The day she'd walked into the rec center every guy had immediately gotten snagged by her big blue eyes and easy smile. In a nanosecond, they'd all had carnal ideas on their brains. But because she was Yvette's best friend, and Yvette was engaged to Cannon, no one went after her hot and heavy.

As they all surely wanted to do.

Then again, maybe Vanity intimidated the others. Wasn't every day a guy saw a classy, confident, happy, spellbindingly gorgeous woman-who was still single.

Stack slid onto the stool beside her, gaining her notice. Probably thinking a stranger had joined her, she cast a quick glance his way, then realized it was him and turned back for a longer, more familiar look.

Big blue eyes started by locking with his before, with a slow smile, she dipped them down and over his dark T-shirt, his worn jeans, all the way down to his cowboy boots and back up again. Smiling as if amused, she lifted one slim brow. "Hello, Stack."

"Vanity."

Frowning, Leese leaned around her to see him. "Hey."

"Wassup, Leese?" He nodded at him. "Got run over, I see."

"Feels like," Leese grumbled.

"You were in a tourney?"

He shook his head. "No." Running his fingertips along a cut on his chin, he said, "Long story."

They stared at each other, Stack willing him to take a hike, Leese refusing to budge.

Vanity grinned. "Wow, don't I feel popular."

Her teasing made Stack want to kiss her until neither one of them could breathe, but he held it in check. Trying to look serious, he said to Leese, "Mind if I borrow her a minute?"

Wearing a black scowl, Leese spun on the stool to face him. "Matter of fact-"

Vanity made a loud "ahem" sound before speaking to Stack. "That's up to me, not him, and no, I don't mind." She turned back to Leese. "Thank you for the drink."

Stack resisted the urge to whistle in sympathy. Talk about a dismissal...

Glowering, Leese lowered himself carefully off the stool, his limbs unbending and awkward, testament to some nasty body shots that must still hurt.

He took one step away, glanced beyond Stack to where Denver stood staring a hole in him, and huffed out a breath. "Now I see. Okay, then." He managed to straighten. "It's why I'm here, so I might as well get this over with."

Hobbling in a broke-ass gait, he headed toward Denver.

That'd gone easier than Stack had expected.

After taking it all in, Vanity angled her body around to face his. "So you were the sacrificial lamb, huh?"

"Actually, I'm known as the wolf, not the lamb."

"Your fight name, yes? Something about the way you stalk your opponents like prey in the cage."

"That's ri"

"And in the bedroom you make the ladies howl."

His mouth snapped shut. First time he'd heard that one. And damn, she looked serious-like she believed it.

He tugged at his ear. "Who told you that?"

"About the cage? Yvette and Rissy."

He shook his head. "No, the part about the ladies." About them howling. It was almost laughable.

Idly, Vanity traced one tapered finger over the polished bar top. "Apparently it's common conversation for the ladies' room." Her lashes swept up and she met his gaze. "I've heard it twice now."

"Here?"

By small degrees her mouth slipped into a smile. "Well, it wasn't at Rissy's or Yvette's."

He pulled back over that appalling thought. "Yeah, I haven't ever-"

"Been intimate with them? I know." She put her elbow on the edge of the bar and propped up her chin with a palm. "So let me see if I get this right. You were sent here to draw away my attention so those two, Denver and Leese, could get some private chat time in?"

"I volunteered," Stack lied. Her drink was empty so he made the offer. "Can I get you another?"

She turned her head, sending that long fair hair cascading down to her thigh. "I can entertain myself, you know. No reason for you to give up your earlier pursuits."

Still thinking about her hair, about how he'd like to wrap it around his hands and hold her steady for some hard sex play, he murmured absently, "How's that?"

"The two hopefuls fawning over you earlier?" Feigning sympathy, she asked, "Did Denver's storm-cloud impression chase off your prospects?"

"They were done deals, not prospects. But that's over." She'd noticed him with the other women? Wondering what that meant, if anything, Stack gave her a once-over. "What about you? Meeting someone tonight?"

Pretending a forlorn sigh, she pouted. "No. I'm all alone."

On her, the pout tempted far more so than on the two ladies he'd sent from his table. With her sky-blue eyes, straight, narrow nose, smooth cheekbones and that full, soft mouth... Yeah, she could make him lose his thoughts. "Same here."

"Now we both know that's not true."

"Is since I sent them off." Even better than her face was her body-all sweet, supple, curvy perfection. He needed to get his head on straight, and fast. "So how about we keep each other company?"

She seemed to think about it for far too long, making his left eye twitch. Not since high school had he been rejected, mostly because he knew how to hedge his bets. If it hadn't been for Denver, he might not have ever approached her like this- "I would love the company." Lifting her glass, she said, "And another drink."

Score. Stack ordered them each a drink, considered asking her to move to a table with him, but decided it'd probably be safer to stay at the bar.

He'd just tipped up a fresh beer when she said, "Do you have a date for the wedding?"

He choked, damn it. Grabbing for a napkin and trying to ignore the way she rubbed-pat-rubbed between his shoulder blades, he concentrated on getting his breath back. Not easy when her hand stroked down, then paused at the small of his back.

Even after he caught his wind, she stayed too close, her hand still touching him, the warmth of it sinking right through his T-shirt.

If he thought much about her small, soft hand on him, he'd get a boner for sure.

He cleared his throat. "Sorry. Went down the wrong pipe."

"I was talking about Cannon and Yvette's wedding." She tipped her head. "Not asking for your hand in marriage."

Jesus. Much more of that and he'd be strangled again. "I never take a date to a wedding." Best to clear that up right now.

"Because women get ideas?"

The back of his neck prickled. "Yeah. Something like that." He cast a look at Denver, but he and Leese had their heads together, both of them looking far too serious.

No help there.

He hated to ask, because he just knew it'd be a trap, but he heard himself say, "What about you? Got a string of guys waiting for the word?"

"Like you, I hesitate to go with anyone." Finally she retreated, leaning out of his space to sip at her drink.

But with her body aimed toward his-for the sake of conversation, maybe-and her legs so long, her knees bumped the outside of his thigh.

Since when did an innocent touch like that become so hot?

Since the knees belonged to Vanity Baker.

Thank God she wore jeans. He'd seen her in itty-bitty skirts and shorts and it never failed to inspire lust.

"Stack?"

"Hmm?"

The smile flickered into place again. That, too, was a turn-on, how her lips always twitched and one side went up first, then the other, as if she fought every grin.

"You're here to keep me engaged in conversation, but you're not holding up your end of the bargain."

"Right. Sorry." What the hell had they been discussing? Oh, yeah, Cannon's upcoming wedding. "You hate to take dates to weddings, too? How come?"

She lifted her glass as if in a toast. "I lose my better judgment when I drink too much."

He eyed her half-empty glass. Do tell.

"So it's risky to have a guy in the line of fire. But I'm the maid of honor and I'm going to look pathetic to be there solo."

Oh hell. He felt the noose closing.

Very softly, she said, "You did run off Leese."

No fucking way! "You were going to ask him?"

Again she sipped. "Actually, I think once I mentioned the wedding he would have asked me."

Knowing what he did now, Stack couldn't stop obsessing on how much she might have imbibed already. "And you'd have accepted?" She deserved better than a new fighter with a shit attitude.

So what was he? A better-grade fighter with a shit attitude?

When she sipped again, self-preservation sank in. Stack took the glass from her and set it out of reach.