And then he wanted to clear up a few misunderstandings. The sooner the better.
* * *
THE MORE SHE thought about it, the more Yvette couldn’t believe her own behavior.
Heath had tried to force her into a car.
Cannon had literally mangled him.
And she’d reacted with...lust?
The woman who couldn’t have a climax. Or rather, couldn’t—until Cannon.
But good God, out in a parking lot with a rapt audience watching, in some cases recording, everything?
Even now, knowing that he only bided his time, that he’d revealed her deepest, darkest hurts to Mindi, she still wanted him.
Desperately.
It made sense. Cannon was a terrific guy, respected by so many. He had a perfect body, honed with strength.
And his face...those electric-blue eyes, thick lashes, sculpted cheekbones and strong jaw.
His sexy smile.
Heat crawled up her neck; she’d totally forgotten herself in that parking lot, all because he’d kissed her without the kid-glove treatment he usually favored.
Thinking about it sent additional warmth throbbing between her legs. And her belly. Her br**sts. Deep in her core.
He’d been consumed with need...for her.
Thank God no one had asked her to repeat that part of things. She’d gotten by just saying that Cannon was checking on her and that was how Heath had escaped.
It was over and done with now, so she needed to stop thinking about it. Better to sort out the problems.
How had Heath gotten up and left after that beating? Witnesses said he’d driven away. That he’d looked terrible. That his arm was clearly damaged, his nose twisted. One eye swollen shut. Blood everywhere.
And still he’d fled the scene.
She didn’t know where Cannon had gone after leaving her in the break room. He didn’t say, and he was so distant right now, she didn’t ask.
It had been excruciating, leaving the bar. So many people staring. Nearly all of them strangers.
Thank God Armie had given her his shirt to wear. That at least kept her decently covered, hiding her own ripped shirt. She was also grateful that he’d stopped Cannon from hurting Heath worse. Not that she cared about Heath’s injuries, but she didn’t want Cannon to have to deal with the aftermath because of her.
She liked everything about Armie—except for his appreciation of Mindi.
She didn’t see the attraction. But then, she wasn’t male. Men, she found, were difficult to understand.
And thinking of difficult men...she again looked at Cannon. Each lamppost they passed briefly illuminated his profile.
Cannon’s knuckles were raw, his gaze still deadly.
Driving in utter silence, he repeatedly flexed his hands on the steering wheel. She didn’t know if he did that because of anger or because his hands hurt.
He looked...maybe combustible.
Exhaustion, both emotional and physical, left her too numb to calculate the consequences, but at the edges of her mind, she knew it was bad.
All of it.
Too tired to be discreet, she asked, “Are you mad?”
“Yes.” No hesitation.
Wow. She’d never seen him in this mood like this. Usually he was even tempered, calm personified, in ultimate control.
Unsure how to deal with him, she bit her lip, then asked, “At me?”
Frown intensifying, he glanced at her, over her, before giving his attention back to the road.
Before he could answer, her nervous chatter erupted. “Because seriously, you know I wasn’t leaving, right? I didn’t lie about that. I just wanted a breath of air.”
“I would have walked out with you.”
At that moment, she hadn’t wanted him to. When she thought of him talking with Mindi about her, it left her desolate. But going into all that now would only make a bad night worse.
And besides, she had her pride.
If all he wanted was, as Mindi had said, to finish what they’d started, well, she wanted that, too. Somehow she’d make it be enough, and he’d never know that she still carried her schoolgirl infatuation.
Knowing he waited, she came up with the first excuse she could find without opening another vein. “You had fans lined up to see you.”
“I get breaks, too.” That icy calm tone was worse than a shout. “Or did you think I needed to cater to the fans for four hours straight?”
She winced; the way he said it, it did sound dumb. “I didn’t want to be a bother.”
He laughed, but it sure as heck wasn’t with humor.
“I know.” Losing her own grip a little, she levered around in the seat to glare at him. “I ended up being a bigger bother!”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”
She ignored that to stress, “I didn’t know Heath was still around. I didn’t know he was idiot enough to try to drag me off with people all around us. Until tonight, he’d always been a pain, but not a total psycho.” He’d escalated into the insanely obsessed role so quickly, she needed time to adjust. “I didn’t go off with him willingly, you know!”
Unsmiling, his own temper cracking, Cannon growled, “I thought maybe you went to ‘avoid a scene.’”
Until now, until he’d said that, she’d never known him to be a jerk. She couldn’t get enough air. Voice strained, she told him, “Yes, I hate scenes, all right? I have good reason and you know it!”
His gaze flickered to her again, maybe with remorse, but she couldn’t tell for sure.
“When Heath grabbed me, I wanted to scream.” She’d wanted to so badly. She clenched her hands to still the trembling. “But he held me so tight.” She saw it all again, felt it again and panic bubbled up. Desperately she fought it back. She would not go hysterical on him. “I could barely even breathe,” she whispered. “It felt like he was going to break my ribs—”