“Damn, girl.” Jackson stripped off his jacket and tried to stuff Arizona into it. It left his gun exposed, but that wasn’t as bad as Arizona drawing so much attention.

And given her outfit, her hair and makeup, she could do nothing else.

Gone were the jeans in favor of a short—really short—faded denim miniskirt. A low-plunging black tank made a bra impossible and emphasized the round firmness of her substantial br**sts. Little strappy sandals and big hoop earrings completed the outfit. But she hadn’t stopped there. Her pale blue eyes were a dominant feature on her, and now, with her lush lashes layered in black mascara and her lips a glossy pink, she looked…like a walking wet dream.

Spencer scanned the area around them and saw that they had, in fact, drawn attention. “We need to move. Now.”

Trace growled a complaint as Arizona fought Jackson’s efforts to conceal her. “This is going to be a cluster-fuck of the first order.”

Arizona stopped struggling to say, “If I can’t cuss, you can’t, either.”

And Spencer finally pulled himself together. “Did you leave anything in the room?”

She lifted the duffel, laptop case and her purse. “I didn’t see any reason to come back here after we eat, so I’ve got it all here and in the trunk of my car.”

That meant she didn’t have much. He frowned as he took the case from her, but knew he’d have to figure out the lack of personal possessions later. “We’ll head to dinner now.” After wresting the duffel away from her, too, he turned to Trace. “Could you—”

“Check her out, yeah. Don’t worry about it. Get her well away from here before you stop to eat, though.”

“Better still,” Jackson said, looking everywhere as if expecting hordes of men to descend on her, “take her through a drive-thru and eat in your car.”

Clustered around her, shielding her from sight as much as they could, the men led her out of the motel and toward Spencer’s truck.

“Stop shoving!” Arizona complained and pushed back against Jackson.

Spencer inserted himself between them. He didn’t like Jackson cozying up so close to her. Besides, Arizona was usually more reasonable with him.

Near to her ear, he said, “Hustle it up, honey. In case anyone comes looking for you later, the less notice we get, the better.”

She dutifully marched ahead but continued to grouse. “You guys are the ones causing a scene.”

“You aren’t that naive,” Trace told her.

“Never said I was,” she snapped right back.

“Then you know how you look.”

At the passenger side of the truck, she turned and gave Trace a sultry look. “So I was successful?”

Trace and Jackson both stared at her. At all of her.

“For the love of…” Spencer opened the door and lifted her inside. “Knock it off, Arizona.” He knew neither man wanted to ogle her, but she made it pretty hard not to, especially when she struck a sexy pose.

After slamming the door again, Spencer told them, “I’ll check in later.” He circled around the hood, got behind the wheel and drove off. He didn’t look back—and he did his best not to look at Arizona, either.

CHAPTER NINE

JACKSON FELT AS IF SOMEONE had just sucker punched him. He’d known Arizona had killer looks. Hell, he wasn’t blind or stupid. But it went beyond that. She had an innate sensuality that, with just a single glance, roped in a guy.

If he wasn’t in love with Alani, if he didn’t know what Arizona had suffered, if he didn’t have a deep moral code that kept him from taking advantage, well…he’d have been tempted.

With Trace silent beside him, they watched as Spencer and Arizona disappeared from sight. Still thunderstruck, he turned to look at Trace. Trace met his gaze, and he cracked.

They both laughed for a moment before Jackson shook his head. “Did you f**king see that girl?”

Reining in his humor, Trace said, “Would have been hard to miss.” He grinned again. “Spencer saw her, too.”

“Yeah.” Jackson rubbed a hand over his head. “It’s going to get interesting.”

“It’s going to go upside down.” He turned away.

Jackson followed. “Arizona didn’t even seem to realize.”

“All women realize.”

“Cynical, Trace. Real cynical.” He shook his head. “Arizona is different.”

“That’s an understatement.” He surveyed the yard, the motel, before getting into his unassuming sedan. “Let’s go before we lose them.”

Jackson fastened his seat belt, then waited while Trace pulled out of the lot, keeping a discreet distance from Spencer. But it bothered him, chewing on his mind.

He didn’t like for Arizona to underestimate her appeal, and he hated for her to use herself as bait. “She sees herself as a commodity, ya know?”

Trace said nothing to that.

“She thinks she’s a body with a price, but not so much as a woman with boner-inspiring sex appeal.”

Trace glanced at him with a lifted brow.

“Not my boner!” Good God, he’d turned her down, hadn’t he? “Hell, you know how I feel about Alani. I don’t want any other woman. I haven’t wanted anyone else since meeting her.”

“Let’s don’t belabor the point.”

Jackson paid no attention to Trace’s discomfort. “I mean, I can see if a woman’s sexy. I’m not blind. But I’m immune to—”