Love is a Battlefield Read online

  “Really. Because if you don’t want to talk, first I’m going to find out exactly how far those bruises go, even if it means I have to strip you like a toddler who’s fallen into a mud puddle. And I won’t give a damn how little you like it.”

  She paused, working for control. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  He shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time I had to rescue you, and this is a whole lot more serious than you taking a tumble into some dirty water wearing your good clothes.”

  Then he stood there, waiting for her to make a decision. Waiting for her to push him one more time. “You are the most irritating, overbearing, bullheaded, stupid bastard.”

  “Agreed. Now get your ass to bed before I change my mind about this entire thing and send you home.”

  They stared each other down again. Pepper was tempted to ruffle his feathers some more, but truth was, she was too damn exhausted for any further verbal sparring, so she decided to let Jack win.

  This time.

  “Fine.” She tilted her head. “Can you give me something to sleep in? I don’t want to soil Jack Hunter’s sacred sheets with my dirty traveling clothes.”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I’ll grab you a T-shirt.”

  She trailed after him toward the hallway, too tired to pay much attention to her surroundings. Then again, she probably wasn’t missing much. Knowing Jack, the whole apartment was furnished with beanbag chairs and decorated with framed headshots of his cocky self.

  His cocky, attractive self. Just because the man was a major pain in the butt didn’t mean she couldn’t acknowledge his hotness. Six feet tall, rock-hard bod, chiseled features—Jack Hunter was hot with a capital everything. Growing up, she’d seen countless girls throw themselves at him, though how any of them had stomached his God’s-gift-to-the-world attitude, she had no clue.

  Maybe he made up for it in bed? Naah, she doubted it. If the guy wasn’t a selfish lover, she’d eat her hat.

  Jack stopped at the second door and left her in the hall as he popped in to find her a shirt. He returned a moment later and thrust out his hand. “Here. Now go to bed.”

  She accepted the faded gray T-shirt. “Thank you, Master. I shall retire to my quarters and see you on the morrow.”

  He raked a hand through his sandy-blond hair and muttered something under his breath.

  “What was that?” she said sweetly.

  His jaw tensed. “I was just saying your hippie parents really should’ve reconsidered their no-spanking stance.”

  Pepper smirked at him. “Wow. You wanna spank me, Jackjack? Dirty boy.”

  Something crossed his expression, a flicker of…holy Ryan Seacrest, was that heat?

  It was very rare for Pepper to be caught off guard, but for a moment, she was rendered speechless. The thought that Jack Hunter—Jack Hunter—could feel even the teeniest smidgen of lust in her presence—her, Pepper Wilson—was downright mind-boggling. He’d never treated her like anything other than a pesky kid sister, and was as possessive and protective as Parker when it came to keeping her in line. Jack was a grumpy, prickly stick-in-the-mud. He was the bane of her existence, and she was the bane of his. That was how it’d always been.

  She must have imagined that lustful glimmer in his eyes. Two months of traveling in a cramped car with four other people had clearly made her go insane.

  “I swear to God, Pepper, if you don’t go to bed in the next two seconds, I’ll—”

  “Take a chill pill,” she cut in, sighing dramatically. “I’m going, all right?” With that, she strode off toward the last door in the hall, tossing a saccharine look over her shoulder. “Nighty-night, Jackjack.”

  When she was alone in the bedroom, she collapsed, her carefree bravado snuffed out like a wet candle. God, she was tired. And sore. And, frankly, still pissed off. What had started off as a fun cross-country road trip with her fellow college grads had ended with a bang. And not the good kind of bang, where people ended up sweaty and sated.

  Nope, it was the kind of bang that left her looking like a reject from a Jean-Claude Van Damme street-fighting movie.

  Her plan to come home like the prodigal daughter and greet her folks and Parker with hugs and kisses had been shot to hell. Jack was right—her brother would go on a murder spree once he saw her face, and her parents would never let her leave their house again. Which interfered with her other plan, the one that involved finding her own place and living a life where she wasn’t being babied by everyone.

  Sighing, Pepper changed into the shirt Jack had given her. The soft fabric swallowed her entire body and hung past her knees, making her feel like an orphan girl who’d been taken in by a gentle giant. Except…Jack, gentle? Ha. She’d pay money to see that.

  Well, if she had any money. Her savings account was pitiful since she’d refused to take out any school loans. Her parents had fronted the tuition costs, but Pepper had paid her own expenses and residence fees by waitressing at a diner back in Chicago. She didn’t like owing anyone anything, and she had every intention of paying her parents back the first chance she got.

  But right now…sleep was the only item on her agenda. Tomorrow she’d call Kendra and arrange to pick up the belongings she’d abandoned at their campsite. And then she’d suck it up and let Jack lecture her for a while.

  And after that? Time to take charge of her life, and woe to anyone who screwed around with her plans for the future. This was one girl who’d seen the light, and she had no intention of lying down and letting anyone walk over her ever again.

  Chapter Two

  The aroma of cooking bacon lured Pepper from her restless slumber. Groaning, she checked the alarm clock on the night table, saw that it was eight o’clock, and groaned a whole bunch more.

  Damn that man. Sleep as long as you want, he’d said.

  Sure, like that was even remotely possible when he was taunting her with the delicious smell of bacon. He knew she’d give up her firstborn if a lifetime supply of bacon was on the table.

  She heaved herself out of bed. Stretched her arms over her head and instantly regretted it when a jolt of pain shot through her ribcage. She hadn’t gotten the official word that anything was broken since she hadn’t seen a doctor, but her ribs were either broken or really badly bruised. Maybe a hot shower would help.

  She moaned the second the thought entered her head. Washing up at Parker’s office yesterday hadn’t done more than knock off the surface dirt. Being immersed in steamy hot water sounded like heaven at the moment.

  Hot shower. Then bacon.

  The guest room didn’t have a private bath, so she padded barefoot toward the hall bathroom. She tossed Jack’s oversized T-shirt on the towel rack and a moment later was purring happily as blistering moisture slid down her aching body.

  She wasn’t sure how long she stood there under the spray, but it must’ve been a while because suddenly Jack pounded on the door.

  “Get out before you drain the hot water, Candy Cane!” came his muffled voice. “I haven’t taken my shower yet.”

  Candy Cane. It irked her that he still used the juvenile nickname. Even Parker had stopped calling her that a long time ago. Like, once she’d turned eight.

  “I mean it, you brat! Shower time’s over,” he shouted.

  Just to annoy him, Pepper counted out two full minutes before stepping from the stall. Once the rush of water stopped, she could clearly hear Jack mumbling expletives in the hall.

  “Stop lurking behind the door,” she called as she grabbed a towel off the rack, her borrowed T-shirt tumbling to the floor before she could catch it. “It’s creepy.”

  His receding footsteps involved some stomping, and she grinned. Needling Jack was so damn easy. Didn’t hurt that she happened to be so damn good at it.

  She bent over to retrieve the T-shirt, then realized it was soaked thanks to her dripping-wet hair and the fact that she’d now as good as used it as a bathroom mat. Ah well. Who needed a shirt? She secured the towel tighter over her
breasts and left the bathroom, heading for the small kitchen at the other end of the apartment.

  When she walked in, she found Jack at the counter, sulking over a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. His head lifted at her approach, and he gaped.

  “What the fuck, Pepper? Put some clothes on.”

  “I don’t have anything that’s clean.” She sauntered to the eat-in breakfast counter and plopped onto a stool, making sure the towel didn’t ride too high up her thighs.

  “What about the T-shirt I lent you?” he said suspiciously.

  “It’s on the bathroom floor and it got all wet. Oooh—can I have some of this yogurt?”

  A disgruntled noise rumbled from him. “Four years of living on your own and you didn’t learn to pick up after yourself?” He leaned forward on his stool and swatted her hand before she could grab the plastic yogurt cup. “Dream on. This is the last peach one in the pack. It’s mine.”

  “But I’m the guest,” she protested.

  “You’re not a guest.” He smirked as he peeled off the foil yogurt lid. “You’re a hostage.”

  Pepper narrowed her eyes. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means you’re not taking a step outside this apartment until you tell me what happened to you.”

  So. They were doing this right out of the gate, apparently. She’d hoped to have some coffee in her system before the interrogation began, but she should’ve known Jack’s patience wouldn’t last that long.

  With a sigh, she reached for the second breakfast plate on the counter and pinched a strip of bacon in her fingertips, ignoring the cutlery he’d laid out for her. “Look, it’s really not a big deal,” she said between bites. “I fell down a hill.”

  And more silence.

  “It’s true,” she insisted when sheer disbelief flickered in his eyes.

  “You fell down a hill,” he echoed.

  “Feel free to make fun of me for it.” Her tone was gracious. “It was pretty fucking stupid on my part, so I deserve to be laughed at.”

  His expression was stone-cold serious. “Does it look like I’m laughing?”

  She swallowed another bite, then reached for her fork to spear into some scrambled eggs. “I get it. You don’t believe me. But it’s the honest-to-God truth. It happened the night before last. We were all drinking—”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Me and the friends I was road-tripping with.”

  Jack shoveled a spoonful of yogurt into his mouth, then set down the container. “What are their names?”

  “Oh, come on, are you serious—?”

  “Names.”

  An irritated breath flew out. “Kendra—she’s a friend of mine. We lived in the same dorm. Dirk and Ben, also from our dorm. And Adam from my digital media class.”

  “I see.” Jack swept a hand over his stubble-covered chin. “Just so I’m straight on everything—Dirk, Ben, and Adam are all female, right?”

  Pepper snorted. “Do those names sound female?”

  He cursed loudly. “You were on a road trip with three dudes? Three dudes?”

  “Yep, three dudes. With penises and everything.”

  “Pepper.”

  “Jack.”

  He frowned. “Pepper.”

  “Jack.” Her annoyance levels snapped into high alert. “Will you wipe that disapproving look off your face? I’m a grown-up. I’m allowed to go camping with my friends, female or male. And you, Jackjack, are not my father, my brother, or my protector. Got it?”

  His sharp gaze studied her face. “Did one of the guys rough you up?”

  “No. I told you, it was my own stupidity.” She paused, deciding to offer another piece of the truth. “Dirk and Adam roughed each other up, okay? There was this silly misunderstanding, everyone was drunk, and the guys got all up in each other’s faces. I foolishly stepped in the middle to try to break them apart, and accidentally took a fist to the eye.” She gestured to her shiner. “That’s how I got this.”

  Jack’s jaw went so tight she was surprised it didn’t snap right off his face. “One of those bastards hit you?”

  “By accident. They were both horrified afterwards, and that’s what ended the fight. I was pissed at both of them for acting like such fucktards, so I went for a walk to cool off, tripped over a rock, and took a not-so-fun tumble down a hill.” She offered a glum look. “It sucked.”

  There. She’d given him ninety-five percent of the truth. The other five percent? Well, that was none of his damn business.

  Jack went quiet, his contemplative expression telling her that he was going over the details of her story in that caveman head of his.

  “I believe you,” he finally said.

  “Hot dog! Gee, thank you so much. I can live out the rest of my life knowing Jack the Magnificent believes I’m not a liar.” Rolling her eyes, she jabbed a finger at his abandoned yogurt. “I swear to God, if you don’t finish that in the next three seconds, I’m taking it.”

  He sighed, drawing her attention to his muscular chest. The black wifebeater he wore was so tight it outlined every last ripple on his washboard stomach, and his bare arms were equally ripped, heavy forearms resting on the counter.

  “Fine, it’s all yours,” he grumbled. “I’ve lost my appetite anyway.”

  With a broad smile, she snatched the yogurt and polished it off while Jack sat across from her scowling the whole time.

  Three more bacon strips and two cups of coffee later, she hopped off the stool, adjusting the bottom of her towel with one hand as she carried her plate to the sink.

  She was about to rinse it off when something buzzed. Jack’s cell phone, sitting on the counter next to the sink.

  “Oooh, you have a text message from—” she peered at the screen, “—Charlene. Here, let me read it to you in my best Charlene voice.”

  Jack raced to intercept her, but Pepper had his phone in her hand before he could.

  “Hey, sugar, dinner at my place tonight?” Pepper said in her breathiest voice.

  “Gimme that,” Jack snapped.

  She held the phone out of his reach. “Charlene sounds real nice, sugar. Is she your girlfriend?”

  “No.” His voice was terse.

  “Fuck buddy, then?”

  “None of your damn business,” he ground out. “Now hand over the frickin’ phone.”

  Laughing, Pepper tossed him the BlackBerry. But she’d forgotten about her current attire, and by thrusting her arm out like that, she’d caused the top of her towel to come loose.

  A second later, the terrycloth dropped to the kitchen floor.

  Very, very naked.

  His best friend’s little sister was naked.

  In the back of his mind, it occurred to him that he might’ve just penned a very nice haiku, but Jack was too busy seeing Pepper naked to count all the syllables and find out.

  Hollywood SFX invaded his kitchen and time slowed down, which was good because he couldn’t decide where to look first. Even as his gaze caressed Pepper’s astonishingly full rack, he knew he wasn’t supposed to be looking in the first place.

  Only there didn’t seem to be a way to stop himself. He tried, he really did, but she had nipples. Pale pink ones, like candy floss, with teeny little points rising up that would be perfect for catching between his teeth as her sweetness invaded his system.

  And she had hips—his gaze jumped to take advantage before his conscience won the current fight it was waging with his libido—and she was curvy enough to trigger instantaneous fantasies about stroking his palms over the luscious surface before digging his fingers in as he moved her over him.

  Between her legs, red curls were trimmed into a heart, the point at the bottom aimed like an arrow toward a clean-shaven pussy…

  …and that was the final fucking straw.

  Time whooshed back to full speed so rapidly Jack got lightheaded. Something slammed into his chest before falling to the floor with a clatter. He wasn’t sure if he deliberately moved forward, or i
f it was the head rush that knocked him off his feet. Either way, he ended up damn near diving for the towel, grabbing it the same instant Pepper knelt, her fingers catching hold of his.

  His head snapped up, and he came eye to eye with her breasts, her rapid breathing making them move mesmerizingly before him. Like a snake charmer, pulling him nearer and nearer until he was far too tempted to do something very un-big-brotherly.

  Pepper jerked the fabric from him, shooting to her feet and tucking the fabric against her torso. “I’m capable of picking up my own towel,” she snapped. “Your phone is behind you. Charlene is waiting for an answer.”

  He wasn’t going to allow her to distract him. Jack’s mouth had gone dry, but now that Pepper was mostly covered up again he was able to concentrate. And it wasn’t the sexually tantalizing assault on his system that had sent all his instincts into overdrive. “Stop right there,” he ordered.

  “What? I’m going to get dressed. Thanks for breakfast.” Pepper clutched the top of the towel with one hand, the other behind her back, probably trying to keep a bit of the material over her ass.

  Her very fine ass—far finer than he wanted to admit, but right now?

  “Let me see,” he snapped, closing in on her.

  She pressed the towel harder to her chest. “Didn’t you get enough of an eyeful already? Jerk. You could have looked away or something.”

  No, he really couldn’t have, but he wasn’t going to argue. “If you don’t let me check your bruises, I’m driving you straight to the clinic.”

  Pepper’s gaze narrowed. “You poke any of them like you used to do when I was little…”

  He didn’t let her finish. Just caught hold of her arm and turned her, slipping the towel aside and this time focusing on the damage to her pale skin. Mostly managing to ignore the sensation that moved through his fingers and arm like an electric shock at the feel of her under his fingers as he checked her hip and side.

  She wiggled as if wanting the entire thing over with. “See? Only bruises—shit, ouch.”

  He’d pressed his palm over her ribs where a particularly spectacular green and purple splotch had formed. “It’s bigger than my damn hand. How are the ribs?”