Luxury Model Wife (22 page)

Victoria let out a strangled laugh. “Yeah, right. I sure proved that.”

“He’s a coward.”

The lieutenant emerged from the alleyway. “He’s gone. Seems to know his way around.” He pulled out his pen and a notepad. “Do you know that man, Mrs. Van Orr?”

She was shivering like a wet kitten. “He’s my father.” Victoria explained what had happened.

The lieutenant’s lips tightened. “Let us take you home.”

“I have my car.”

“I’ll bring it to your house later,” Steve said.

“Thanks.” She found her keys and handed them over. “It’s parked in the municipal lot.”

The lieutenant opened the rear door of his patrol car and helped Victoria inside. She climbed into the back seat and rested her head against the upholstery. Steve retrieved her satchel from the pavement, slid into the vehicle beside her, and dropped the sack on the floorboard.

The car pulled away from the curb and headed toward the Van Orr estate. Victoria closed her eyes and said nothing during the ride. When they arrived at her home, she surprised Steve by inviting him inside.

“Norm, I’ll see you later, okay?” he said. “I’ll take a rain check on that lunch.”

“Sure thing.”

Steve followed Victoria through the front door.

“Thanks for staying with me.”

Steve wanted to be nowhere else in the world. “I’ll make a couple of drinks while you change, and meet you in the sitting room.”

Victoria sighed. “That sounds perfect.” She pointed in the direction of the bar. “Mix whatever you want. Surprise me.” She headed up the staircase.

Steve found the tequila for margaritas. Victoria would like that.

She returned minutes later dressed in sweatpants, a matching hooded sweatshirt, and tennis shoes. On her, the outfit looked couture.

Steve smiled and handed her a chilled glass.

She sipped the drink and licked her lips. “Ah, that’s better.”

“Good?”

She nodded. “You make a mean margarita, my friend.”

“Hmm. That’s true, you know.”

“What is?”

“That I’m still your friend. No matter what’s happened between us, that hasn’t changed. Never will.” He placed his glass on a side table. “You can’t imagine how bad I feel about the burglary.”

He looked up and their eyes met and held. Victoria’s expression offered understanding for the first time since the incident, washing waves of relief over him.

“I told my insurance company to issue my compensation check to the James Van Orr Foundation. I’d like to be your first patron.”

Victoria placed her margarita glass next to Steve’s on the side table. “That’s very generous.” She smiled and the earlier tension in her face disappeared. “And typical of who you are. I should never have blamed you for the crime. I’ve played the scenario over and over again in my head. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

She took his hands in hers and his awareness of her heightened at the intimacy of her touch. He smelled the scents of lavender soap and perfume on her skin.

“When I thought it through, I realized you were still the right person to handle James’s estate. Or what’s left of it. He would have wanted that.” Victoria squeezed his hands. “But let’s not talk about money right now.” She dipped her head. “That’s all anyone seems to want from me.” She met Steve’s eyes again and her expression softened. “Except you. You’re the only one who keeps trying to give me money.”

Steve smiled. “And is my plan to win you working?”

Victoria laughed for the first time since the night they danced. “We’ll see.”

She startled him by unzipping the front of her hooded sweatshirt. His gaze dropped to her hands as they moved the zipper over her chest, revealing a black sport bra beneath. The swell of her cleavage brought him instantly alert.

He watched as she pulled off the sweatshirt and tossed it on the chair behind her. Her toned arms and perfectly sculpted abdomen riveted his attention to her magnificent upper body.

She turned toward him again and tugged the waistband of her pants. Slowly, so slowly Steve thought his lungs would burst from holding his breath, she nudged the pants over her hips and down her tight, smooth thighs.

Steve’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and he could no longer swallow.

She was stunning in her sports bra and tiny matching shorts.

Victoria dropped her sweatpants to the floor and stepped out of the legs. She lifted her long, black hair away from her shoulders and let it fall like rain down her back. In one swift movement she lifted her hair again and tied it in a thick ponytail.

“Want to go a few rounds? I need to burn off nervous energy.”

“Sounds great.” Though it might take several rounds to burn off the energy stoking him.

“Afterwards, I’ll make lunch.”

Chapter Fourteen

Steve was sure Victoria’s plain black bra and spandex workout shorts were the sexiest outfit he’d ever seen. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“You know I like to box when I’m upset. Since I froze when confronted by my worst nightmare, I obviously have work left to do.” She pointed to the adjoining gym. “Let’s get gloves on. Take off your shirt.”

Though she’d admitted to being upset, she seemed to have regained total control. Steve wondered how often Victoria had forced herself to rebound from adversity. Her resilience gave testimony to her amazing inner strength.

What was it world heavyweight boxing champion Floyd Patterson once told the press?
“They said I was the fighter who got knocked down the most, but I also got up the most.”

Getting up was the most important part.

Victoria moved toward the doorway in her form-fitting shorts and bra and glanced back over her shoulder. Her long ponytail swayed, her beautiful eyes made contact with his, and her lips curved in a come-hither smile. She looked like a lingerie model. That pose, coupled with the perfect roundness of her bottom inside spandex, made his adrenaline soar.

“Your jeans will be okay, but you should leave the boots behind,” she said.

Steve pulled off his tee shirt and threw it on a nearby chair. He was glad to keep the jeans. “Down boy,” he muttered, while he slid his boots and socks off and left them on the hardwood floor. He padded across the room into the gym.

Victoria was already pulling on her gloves. “Tie these for me, will you?” She pointed to the box filled with gloves in varying sizes and styles. “I suggest you use a set with Velcro closures. One of us needs to get out of these things without help.”

Steve reached into the bin and found a pair that seemed right for him. He slid them over his hands, flexed, and admired the feel. He punched the air, getting used to controlling the extra weight.

Victoria jabbed the sandbag to her right with a quick one-two. She pivoted fast, swung her right leg in a wide arc and slammed the bag with the bottom of her foot, creasing the canvas like a soda can. The bag sprang back and Victoria hit it again with a left hook.

“Now you try,” she said. “Be careful not to strike with your wrist locked or you’ll break your hand.” She gestured toward the sandbag with her red leather glove and trotted away toward a speed bag. The sounds of her quick rhythms filled the room.

Steve repeated the moves she’d shown him the first time he visited her gym. He liked the way the impacts stretched and flexed his muscles. Each shot created an energy surge through his body. His arms hummed like a tuning fork with each solid stroke, and his neck, shoulder, and back muscles burned. His feet began a rhythmic dance. He circled the punching bag again and landed several blows.

“Do you imagine your father’s face when you box?” Though he pretended his question was casual, he watched closely for her answer.

Victoria’s pace increased and her expression turned hard. She attacked the speed bag with more force than before. “What do you think?” She controlled the bag with a series of pummels.

“I think you should come here and vent with me.”

Victoria did a double take. “Fight you? Why?”

“Let’s get your basic distrust of men out in the open, once and for all.” He practiced a few upper cuts. “I want you to let it all out.”

“I am letting it out.” She slammed a glove against the bag and it shot toward the ceiling. “I just didn’t have the guts to do this when I should have.”

“You told me you’d stopped fighting people in the ring. Maybe it’s time to relearn how it feels to strike back. Maybe boxing with me in a safe environment will help you cope with your feelings of helplessness.”

He turned and punched air. “You’ve been mad at me, too. Admit it. So take a few shots.”

Victoria eyed him with apparent misgiving. “That’s the dumbest idea I ever heard.”

“It isn’t. Come on. Try. You’re afraid of down-and-dirty confrontation. Stop trying to stay rational or act like a lady. Scream, fight, and let the rage out. I can take it.”

When she refused to budge, he reared up and raised his hands. “If you won’t attack me, I’ll come after you.”

Victoria flinched, but held her ground.

Steve continued to goad her. “You wanted security more than anything else in your life. When you found James, you married the Crowned Prince of Safety Nets. He was a good man, but you traded lust for insulation.”

“Shut up.” Her eyes flashed.

“In exchange for safety, you gave up the special ingredient that would have made your marriage whole.”

“I’m warning you!” she shouted. “Stop talking.”

He ignored her and dared to say the word he believed to be true. “
Passion
.” He’d sensed her longing the first time he kissed her.

Victoria’s reaction was instant. Her nostrils flared and she bared her teeth. “Bastard.”

She glared and took a step forward, but stopped before she got too close. She shoved a glove toward his face. “Don’t you dare talk about James.”

“Shake off your ghosts, Victoria. Stop licking your wounds.” He raised his gloves in invitation.

She stood stock-still.

When he lunged at her and then pulled back, Victoria went wild.

“Don’t you
ever
raise your fists to me, you son of a bitch.”

She charged at him and landed two hard blows to his solar plexus. Steve felt the air rush from his lungs and he doubled over to catch his breath. His ribs hummed. He still ached from his fight at the bar, but steeled himself for the next round of blows.

She darted around him in a tight circle with her hands protecting her jaw. When Steve faced her again, two quick jabs burned his abdomen. Victoria moved away before he could retaliate.

“Is it as good for you as it is for me?” she mocked. She feigned another series of blows and bobbed to the right.

Steve moved closer. “You have nothing to be afraid of anymore,” he said.

She swung and pummeled his chest. Steve staggered back and lifted a forearm to block the next blow.

Victoria came in for the kill.

When she swerved to his right for an upper cut, he stepped into her floor space, hooked his free arm around her waist, and yanked her tight against him. She let out a yelp of surprise and outrage and thrashed while he rushed forward and pressed her back against the sandbag. He pinned her between the weighted bag and his body and held her close. Their chests heaved with exertion.

Her breathing labored while she struggled against his chest. She looked up at him with mild distain. “Am I cured now?”

“When you decide to let go and move on, you will be. I bet your therapist told you that already.”

He held her tighter by wrapping his arms around the sandbag and pressing closer. Heat rose from her skin, and the air became filled with sensual musk.

“My therapist says strength is measured by how well we rebound from adversity.” She curled her lip. “I guess I should be world champ by now.”

“You still let Slater upset you. When he no longer has that power, you can walk away. And when you do, remember I’m here for you.”

He lifted her chin with the underside of his boxing glove. “I don’t want you to play things safe anymore. I want you to take wild, passionate risks.” He lowered his face to hers but stopped short of kissing her. “With me.”

She took a deep breath and slowly collapsed against him, like a balloon leaking air.

Steve supported her weight as she released the last of her rage. She took several more breaths and rested her forehead against his chest while she lowered her arms to her sides.

Finally, she lifted her face to his and met his eyes. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“I hope not.” Steve smiled down at her and kissed her forehead. A feeling of overwhelming tenderness washed over him. He’d never met anyone like her, either. She was the epitome of everything he’d ever wanted in a woman—smart, strong, seductive.

But could she ever really love him the way he hoped? On equal terms? Had her abusive childhood broken her forever?

He decided to give her the chance, right then, to break away and let him go.

He loosened his grip to give her the freedom to leave, but she wriggled against him and raised her chin instead. The glimmer in her eyes sent an unmistakable message.

God, this woman drove him crazy.

When Steve lowered his mouth to hers, his kiss sealed his unspoken promise to love her. Truly love her.

As if she understood, she returned the kiss with fierceness she hadn’t offered before, and Steve’s heart hammered with the knowledge that she wanted him.

He covered her mouth with his and then pressed a wash of kisses over her cheek. His lips traced the line of her jaw to the tender hollow below her ear and lingered there.

“You are everything to me,” he whispered.

She keened at his words and offered her throat.

He dragged his tongue along the column of her neck to the sensitive ridge of her collarbones and nibbled the warm, perspired skin along the path to her shoulder.

Victoria shuddered. When she sighed with her next intake of breath, he became bolder, and lowered his mouth to lay kisses on the soft tops of her breasts. His mouth grew hot and his breathing deepened. His body ached for her. The strain of his erection pressed against the zipper of his jeans, causing painful friction.