The Wrong Man (Alpha Men 3)

“I have conditions.” The man’s words reminded Sam of Lia’s misunderstanding of his question the other night, and he grinned at the recollection.

“Something funny?” Spencer asked.

“Yeah, but it’s unrelated to this. What conditions?” Spencer gave him an assessing look before shrugging.

“Daff and Charlie are watching a chick flick. I needed to get away from all the sighing and crying,” Spencer informed him with an intimidating frown. He had dark hair and thick, straight, dark brows that made him look pretty damned formidable. He was a huge guy, probably four or five inches taller than Sam, and massively built. Sam understood that he’d once been a rugby player, a forward lock, so he was lean and solid at the same time. Physically he’d make a pretty intimidating CPO, but from what Sam had observed since meeting the man for the first time in November, he lacked a soldier’s edge. He was huge and intimidating on the outside with not an aggressive bone in him. He also never had more than two words to say, so Sam was surprised that the man had approached him and was being so damned chatty.

“Want to watch something manlier?” Sam asked, and Spencer nodded.

“There’s a Fast and Furious movie on at seven thirty,” he stated, and Sam glanced at the kitchen clock and nodded.

“Make yourself at home, I’ll see if your fiancée bought any snacks.”

“Girlfriend,” Spencer corrected uncomfortably, red darkening the back of his neck and the tips of his ears.

“Beg your pardon?”

“She’s not my fiancée . . . yet.”

“Ah.” Sam opened and closed a few of the kitchen cabinets, searching for something salty. He found a packet of crisps and a can of pretzels on the same shelf and grabbed them both. “Mate, would you mind getting a bowl or something? Kind of incapacitated over here.”

Spencer grunted and went on the hunt, finding a couple of bowls in short order. He emptied the crisps and pretzels into the bowls, carried everything into the living room, and dumped them onto the coffee table in front of the huge television. Mason had a great setup—digital surround sound, seventy-seven-inch organic LED television, PS4, and music all hooked up to the same system. It was man cave central, and Sam had been so preoccupied with Lia that he hadn’t even thought to check it all out before now.

“This is a sweet setup,” he said, and Spencer grunted again—it sounded like agreement. He was a taciturn fucker, but that was okay. Sam appreciated the quiet companionship he offered.

They settled in, Sam spread out on the sofa and Spencer sprawled in the easy chair, and were soon absorbed in the loud, improbable movie. The crazy car stunts, gunfights, and hand-to-hand combat scenes were completely unrealistic, and Sam picked them all apart in his head, finding the exact moment in each action sequence where the character should have died a horrible death. Gravity, physics, and the limitations of the human body were terrible equalizers.

Still, he enjoyed the loud, chaotic movie for what it was, a couple of hours of pure escapism. Spencer didn’t speak at all, just kept his focus on the screen, systematically making his way through his share of the snacks and beers. He was great, undemanding company.

When the movie ended, Spencer stretched and yawned. “Need anything before I go?” he asked.

“No, thanks. I think I’ve got it all covered.”

“Daff says she won’t be . . .”

“Won’t be helping out? Yeah, I know. She doesn’t like me.”

Spencer grimaced and shrugged. “Hmm.” That’s all he had to say on the matter, and Sam could respect that—the opinionated, borderline unlikable woman was the guy’s almost fiancée, after all.

“It’s fine. Lia’s offered to help out with meals and cleaning.” Another formidable frown from the big guy.

“She has?”

“Yes.”

The frown deepened as Spencer absorbed that information, but again he offered no opinion.

“I’ll drop around again tomorrow night. I think Daff and Charlie are planning some kind of makeup tutorial with some of Charlie’s friends.” The look of panic and absolute horror in his eyes was comical, and Sam grinned.

“See you then.”

“Hmm.”

Another long night of interrupted sleep with crazy, sexy dreams starring Lia McGregor had Sam waking up irritated and horny the next morning. Again he could smell coffee brewing, and he sat up in bed, willing his erection away. He was in a foul mood, and not even the smell of waffles and bacon could dispel his aggravation.

He prowled downstairs and found her at the stove, her back to him. Her hair was up in a neat ponytail and she was wearing a knee-length mint-green pencil skirt with a plain white cotton blouse. On her feet she wore a pair of modest beige pumps. She looked neat and fresh, and all Sam wanted to do was go up behind her and wrap his arms around her. He wanted to turn her around and devour her mouth and mess up all that pristine neatness. Ruin all that prim goodness with just the touch of his hands and mouth.