Going still, Spencer swallowed a groan. “You told her?” Marla would likely ramp up her efforts if she knew the truth.

“Not really on purpose.” Arizona’s gaze was so intent, it burned him.

He split the potatoes and dropped in butter. He almost hated to ask, but… “How does that conversation accidentally happen?”

“When she found out I wasn’t going all she-devil over the idea of you boinking her, she said she knew.” Nonchalantly, Arizona added, “Something about you being such a stud-muffin in the sack that if I’d ever had a taste of what you have to offer, I’d be fighting tooth and nail to keep it all to myself.”

Heat crawled up his neck. “That’s baloney.”

“Hey, she said it, not me. I was notably skeptical.”

Figured. “Questioned my prowess, huh?”

“She didn’t really mention your, er, prowess. She just said you’re well hung.”

He damn near dropped the plate of potatoes. Slowly, he turned his head to stare at her.

Unfazed, Arizona asked, “Wouldn’t that just make things more unpleasant?”

Oh, God. No way was he prepared for this conversation. Later, maybe. After he’d had time to formulate what to say, how to reassure her. How to approach the conversation in a detached, casual… Who was he kidding?

He couldn’t discuss the size of his junk with her. Not ever.

He cleared his throat and turned back to his food prep. “Just like women, to stand around gossiping.” He could only imagine Marla’s reaction to Arizona and her uncensored ways.

“You know, I asked her for specifics, but she wouldn’t share.”

He jerked around to face her again. “You asked Marla for details about me in bed with her?”

Arizona shrugged. “She made me curious with all her moony-eyed, drooling enthusiasm.”

Curious was…maybe good. Better than fear. He considered her candor, her ease in talking to him about such private things. That had to be a sign of trust, didn’t it?

Brightening, Arizona said, “You’re thinking of telling me?”

He shook his head. No, he wouldn’t tell her a thing—not yet anyway. “Maybe later.”

“Why wait?”

He turned off the stove. “Dinner is almost ready.”

She frowned but said, “Good, because I’m starved.”

Thank God for the safer subject. “When did you last eat?”

“I don’t know.”

Never the expected answer from Arizona. One day he’d get used to that. If he knew her long enough, which was doubtful. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I had a candy bar around lunchtime.”

“Nothing since then?”

She shook her head.

“What’d you have for breakfast?”

“Coffee with you.”

His head started to pound. “Dinner the night before?”

She thought about it, then shook her head again.

Frustration edged in. “Why would you not eat?”

“I just forget sometimes.” She left her chair and approached the stove. “Can I do anything to help get the show on the road here? My stomach is growling.”

While she sniffed the pork chops, Spencer looked at the top of her head, at the shiny dark hair, the crooked part. Everything about her seemed endearing.

If a hedgehog could be endearing. “You can set the table if you want.”

“Sure thing.” Bumping him with her hip, she grinned and said, “A proper place setting is one of the things I learned in the school that Jackson sent me to. But I’m guessing you’re more into informality, right?”

“Casual works for me.” After first meeting Arizona, he’d tried to look up her background but found very little. He assumed Jackson was responsible for keeping her off the grid; it was how that elite trio worked. The less info out there, the better they liked it.

It fascinated Spencer, watching Arizona move around his kitchen, seeing her go on tiptoe to reach into cabinets. She’d again left her sneakers by the front door, and her bare feet were narrow, cute. Slender hands, small wrists.

So fundamentally female—but such a live wire and always unpredictable.

Hoping to sound cavalier, he said, “Tell me about the school.”

With no sign of offense, she said, “It was this exclusive all-girl finishing school. Real hoity-toity.” She flashed him another grin. “Not exactly my speed, but Jackson paid through the nose, so they were always nice.”

Spencer stared at her. Good God, they still had those? “You’re serious?”

“Sure.” Carrying two plates to the table, Arizona said, “I mean, no one looking for me would have thought to find me there, right?”

“I can’t imagine finding any young lady there.” But Arizona? In a structured routine meant to stuff societal rules down her throat? “What was it like?”

“Just an education, and a few classes on things like—” She swept her hand over the table. “Etiquette. Not that this setting really counts, but you get my drift.”

“You went along with that?”

“Why not? The idea was sort of twofold. I figured I could learn how to blend in, and though he didn’t say it, Jackson figured he’d have me locked down and out of trouble.” She shook her head with some fond memory. “Jackson can be a real card.”