Heartbreakers: Treat Her Right / Mr November

Conan’s gaze shifted to Wynn, and he made a wry face. “A gallant in the making?”

Wynn set the tray down and rushed to put herself between the two men, facing Zack. Her fingers spread wide on his chest, pressing, restraining although he could have easily moved her aside and they both knew it. Wedged between the two of them, she was so close to Zack he felt her breath and the heat of her body. He twitched.

Wynn stared into his face with an expression bordering on wonder, patted him, and then said with quiet sincerity, “Thank you, but Conan would never hurt me, Zack. I promise. He just likes to needle.”

Conan, still caught in Zack’s unrelenting grasp, snorted at that. But he replied easily, “She’s right, you know. I might want to swat her every now and again, but I wouldn’t hurt her.”

Swat her? Zack peered into Wynn’s large golden eyes and imagined all kinds of kinky sexual play between the two of them.

He wasn’t sure if he was disgusted or intrigued, and his indecision on the matter was unacceptable. He frowned, feeling very put upon.

Then Conan continued lazily. “Wynn, however, has never shown any such consideration. She’s been kicking my ass since we were both in diapers.”

Wynn gave Zack an apologetic nod. “It’s true. Conan is such a big lug, he’s always let me practice up on him.”

Conan tugged on his hand, and Zack, feeling numb and rather foolish, and for some damn reason, relieved, released him.

Brother and sister?

“She’s so big,” Conan continued, “she’s always looked older than her age. When she was in ninth grade, college guys were hitting on her! She needed to know how to fight off the cretins. So I’ve been her personal punching bag for longer than I care to remember.”

Still with her hands pressed to Zack’s chest, Wynn glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Not that he feels it,” she said to her brother, “regardless of how he carries on.” Facing Zack again, she explained, “A steamroller could go over Conan and he’s so thick with muscle he wouldn’t notice.”

Zack inhaled and breathed in the scents of vanilla coffee, fresh blueberry muffins, early morning dew on green grass—and Wynn. She smelled...different. Not sweet. Not exactly spicy. It was more a fresh scent, like a cool fall breeze or the forerunner to a storm. His muscles twitched again.

Damn, but this day was not going at all as planned.

And he could only blame one very big, and somehow very appealing, woman. A woman who was not only his neighbor, but still touching him, still looking at him with a mixture of tenderness, humor, and...hunger.

He’d known tall women, hell, Mick’s wife Delilah was tall. But he’d never known such a...sturdy woman. Her open hands on his chest were nearly as large as his own. Her shoulders were broad, her bones long. Unlike Delilah, Wynn wasn’t delicate.

But she was sexy.

He needed some sleep to be able to deal with the likes of her. And he needed more time.

And most of all, he needed sex, because he knew when he started getting turned on by a loud, pushy amazon, it had been far, far too long.

TWO (#ulink_fe505d8f-fd44-5d70-9c12-87b11a7c4f1b)

GATHERING HIS SCATTERED WITS, Zack looked at both Wynn and Conan, then stepped out of Wynn’s reach. “I see,” he said, for lack of anything better. His brain was all but empty of responses. This had not been a memorable morning.

Wynn fought off a smile, at his expense. “I do appreciate your consideration for my welfare, though.”

The way she said it made him feel ten times more foolish. He could see why Conan thought she needed a good swat. At the moment, he wasn’t totally averse to the idea himself.

Conan saved the awkward moment by pouring the coffee. The rich aroma of vanilla intensified, but Zack could still smell her. She’d been working and her skin was hot, dewy with her exertions.

He growled low in his throat, hating his basic response to her.

Thankfully unaware of the source of his disgruntlement, Conan said, “Sit down, Zack. You look like we’ve wrung you out already. And I have to tell you, it’s only going to get worse.”

How in the hell can it get worse? Zack accepted the coffee and seated himself in a padded chair. Conan sat across from him, Wynn on the settee. Mustering a tone of bland inquiry, Zack asked, “How so?” while eyeing the golden brown muffin, bursting with ripe blueberries, which Conan passed his way.

Nodding to his sister, who had reverted back to frowning, Conan explained, “Mom and Dad are moving. They needed somewhere to stay for two weeks and since Wynn just got this place, I convinced them she was a better choice than me.” He flashed a wide, unapologetic grin.

Wynn huffed. “Not that I don’t love my parents, but when you meet them you’ll understand why I’m considering wringing Conan’s neck.”

Zack didn’t want to meet her parents. He hadn’t even wanted to meet her. With any luck, from here on out he’d successfully avoid the Lane clan altogether.

“But hey,” Conan said, and punched Zack in the shoulder, nearly making him spill the distasteful coffee. “I like it that you wanted to protect her. Knowing she’ll have a neighbor looking out for her makes me feel better about her living alone.”

Conan had fists like sledgehammers, and not enough sense to temper his blows. The muscle in Zack’s shoulder leaped in pain. He refused to show any weakness by rubbing it.

And he refused to become Wynn’s protector, though God knew with a smart and loud mouth like hers, she’d likely need a battalion to shield her from retaliation. But before he could find words to express his thoughts, Dani appeared. She hesitated, showing unaccustomed shyness, her soft-bristled brush clutched in one hand, the other on the screen door.

Setting aside his coffee, Zack held out his hand and she skipped to him. He put her on his knee and began brushing her silky hair. “Dani, Conan is Wynn’s brother.”

Dani leaned close to his ear and whispered loudly enough for the birds in the trees to hear, “What do I call ’em?”

Wynn answered for him. “Well, neighbors can’t very well stand on formality, now can they? So, if you don’t mind us calling you Dani, you can just call us Wynn and Conan. Deal?”

Dani twisted, stuck out her hand, and said, “Deal.”

Conan laughed and enfolded the diminutive fingers with his massive paw. Muscles flexed and rolled along his arm, yet Zack couldn’t help but notice that he was very gentle.

After Wynn shook Dani’s hand, too, Dani stated, “Your hair looks funny.”

“Dani.” Her habit of speaking her mind was often humorous, but this wasn’t one of those times.

She blinked at her father uncertainly. “It doesn’t?”

It did, so what could he say? He settled on, “You know better than to be rude.”

Far from insulted, Wynn laughed out loud and shook her head so more corkscrew curls sprang wild. “It feels funny, too. Wanna see?”

Dani looked at Zack for permission, and he could only shrug. Never in his life had he known a woman who behaved as she did, so how was he supposed to know how to deal with her?

Dani reached out, nearly falling off Zack’s knee, and put her fingertips to the bouncing curls. She gave a tentative stroke, and then another. Her brow furrowed in concentration. “It’s soft.” And then to Zack, “Feel it, Daddy.”

Zack nearly choked. “Uh, no, Dani...”

Conan must have had a wicked streak, because he taunted, “Ah, go ahead, Zack. Wynonna won’t mind.”

“Wynonna will loosen your jaw if you don’t stop calling me Wynonna!”

Dani laughed. Zack was a little bemused to realize his daughter recognized the lack of threat in their repartee while he’d been alarmed by it.

“My name’s Daniella, but no one calls me that. ’Cept Dad sometimes when he’s mad.”