by Vonnie Davis
Her warm hand settled on his forearm and he welcomed the contact, reporter or not.
“I’m sorry for all your family went through. That’s a horrible, horrible tragedy.”
He nodded, ready to change the topic. “Are your parents living?”
“Yes. They’re divorced. Dad lost his job in the weakened economy. We lost the house. Mom lost her lifestyle.” She wove fingers through her long curls and sighed. “Everything fell apart.”
“Yeah. Life can be a bitch.”
Becca sipped her wine, her forehead furrowed. “You know, not all reporters are as aggressive as the ones your family tangled with.”
He chuffed a short laugh. “Do you really want to continue down that dark path of conversation? We all have our pet peeves, our push buttons. Reporters are mine.”
“So you blame all reporters for a few rogue ones with zero sensitivity? Even someone like me, who handles obituaries and the social pages?” Her hazel eyes narrowed and her lips pinched. “Golly, I bet you really hate the guys who cover the sports, thoughtless heathens that they are.” She handed him her glass, turned and stormed out with that world-class ass twitching under her tight skirt.
He shoved a hand into the pocket of his jeans. A reporter. The first woman in years to snag his attention and she just had to be a freaking reporter. A soulless parasite who fed on the misfortune of others. A beautiful and enticing parasite. She stirred something in him, and he wasn’t at all sure he liked it. He clunked her glass on the stand next to his. Damn it all to hell.
As if she were a siren and he her mindless fool, he followed.
Chapter 4
Becca fingered for her door key, hidden in the hanging fern on her porch and wiped off the dirt before sticking it in her lock. Going over to Wolf’s had been a huge mistake. Huge. She’d gone to the trouble of getting made-up and squeezed into her best dress for five minutes of party and ten minutes of lecture. Damn, what an annoying man.
From inside, Einstein barked and whined an eager welcome.
“Becca! Becca, wait up.” Hurried footfalls sounded behind her and a hand coiled around her arm. Wolf turned her to face him. “I was offensive back there. I’m sorry.”
Just why did you have to make him so handsome, God? Even in the dark, his voice is deep and sensual. Couldn’t you have taken some of his abundant sexiness and used it to make him more pleasant? ’Cause this guy is one rude piece of work.
She jerked her hand from his grasp. “First, you can stop putting your hands on me. Earlier today you said you were sorry for flirting with me, as if I wasn’t the type of woman you found attractive.”
“That’s not true. I find you very attractive. What man wouldn’t?”
She chose to ignore his forced compliment. After all, she’d gotten all dressed up for him and he never once told her how nice she looked. Nice? Hell, she looked hot, the big jerk. “Now you’re apologizing for being impolite and insulting. Tell me, do you ever do anything you don’t regret later?”
He backed her against the door, his dark eyes glittering in the soft light spilling onto the porch from her desk lamp near the window. Her tummy did a little twitchy thing when his thighs bumped hers. His fingers forked in her hair, angling her head so their gazes locked. “Believe me, you annoying woman, what I’m about to do next I don’t plan on regretting.”
His warm, soft lips covered hers with gentle sips at first as if tasting her or waiting for her to object. She would have, too, if her mind hadn’t stopped working. Her whole body sparked with a sensual overload, and she trembled with its power. His fingertips massaged her scalp in miniscule circles, sending an erotic electrical current zinging down her thighs to zap the tips of her toes.
Her hands took on a life of their own and spread over his hard chest and broad shoulders. Tension rippled beneath his white, soft polo shirt as her hands explored and caressed. He tasted of beer and something sweet, whipped into a frenzy with tightly reigned male passion. Wood tones from his cologne were too appealing. Against her desires—or because of them—she pressed against the heat of his muscular frame.
He groaned her name against her lips and she was lost.
Wrapping her arms around his neck and allowing her fingers to sift through his long hair, she tangled her tongue with his. Wetness pooled and a moan escaped from the confines of her chest. How long? How long had it been since she’d felt so feminine, so aroused, so damned desperate for a man? When he angled his head to take the kiss deeper and rocked his hips against hers, the fleeting question in her mind morphed into raw need.
He took control, grabbed her bottom and rubbed her mound against his erection to increase the friction.
A rainbow of fireworks exploded behind her eyelids. Sensations staggering between pain and pleasure erupted. If she didn’t end this, she’d climax on her front porch—and wouldn’t that just add to his egotistical opinion of himself?
She pushed him away. “No.”
His eyes were hooded and obsidian with desire. He rested his forehead against hers and took several long, deep breaths. “You’re right. Not here. Not now.”
“Not ever.”
Caution coiled strong tentacles around her heart. She wanted this man. Perhaps that was why she watched him from her window and was so attentive to his comings and goings. Something about his bearing attracted her, and she wanted him with an intensity she’d never had with Tommy Ray. What passion they’d shared at the start of their four-year marriage soon died. No doubt a few times with Wolf and this sexual craze would fade too. Would its ending hurt as much as the conclusion of her life with her ex-husband? She wouldn’t allow herself to find out. This magnetism had to cease now.
“You have a party to return to, birthday boy.”
His head inclined and he feathered several kisses against her neck. She stifled a moan. It was as if he already knew her body’s erogenous zones. Her nipples peaked in search of friction from his fingers or tongue.
He straightened and ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “I have to work tomorrow and the next day. We do two twenty-four-hour shifts at the station and then have two days off. My family’s going Christmas-caroling at two retirement homes Wednesday evening. Would you like to come along? It’s something we started on my first Christmas out of the Navy. Being with seniors reminds us of our parents and grandparents.” He glanced away. “Anchors us in the season, somehow.”
Pain, grief perhaps, tinged his final statement and touched her heart. “That’s a very magnanimous gesture. I’m guessing yours is a family that goes all out for the holidays?” Hers hadn’t since her dad walked out.
He trailed his fingertips down her cheek. “You have no idea how much we love Christmas. It tends to bring out the kid in each of us. Everyone meets at my place for cookies and hot chocolate before we head off to the nursing homes. Wendy Anne has a keyboard we take along.”
“Wow. You do go all out.” Would Wolf be a powerful singer or produce a flat tone? She’d love to go along just to hear him.
“The girls have already put together little presents for the senior citizens. Lotions, bath gels, stockings.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Stuff like that. I throw in books. Romances for the women, books set during World War II or the Vietnam War for the men.”
She hadn’t expected this side of him and it surprised her. “Why would you include me in your family tradition? I’ll feel as if I’m intruding.”
“No. The more, the merrier. Some of the guys from the station are also going along. They bought puzzles to add to the presents we’ll hand out.”
“I could make cookies and candies. I love to cook, but rarely do it just for me.”
“Sounds good. Come over at six on Wednesday. It’ll be an early evening since the old folks tend to go to bed earlier than most.” He stepped closer and took her hand in his. “Maybe we could go out for a late dinner. I’ll make reservations for the two of us somewhere.”
Singing Christmas carols and handing out gifts as part of
a group was one thing, but dinner alone with him was more personal. She had to keep her distance. With one heated kiss, he’d melted a layer of the glacier encasing her heart. A handsome, sexy, self-assured man could do great damage. She had to deflect Wolf’s allure by refusing his offer. What better way to repel him than reminding him what she was? “You’d take a lowly reporter out to dinner?”
He slipped his hands into the back pockets of his black jeans and stepped backwards. “A reporter. Yeah, I’d forgotten.” He snorted a burst of laughter. “Hell, with my lips fused to yours earlier, I damn near forgot my name. I never lose control with a woman like that.” His gaze shifted to the street for a few seconds, and he murmured something she couldn’t distinguish. His posture and the set of his broad shoulders spoke of sadness. Oh, girl, get a grip. Just like all men, he’s a heartache with a capital H.
“Good night, Wolf.”
His dark eyes with their predatory gaze landed on her, and for an instant, they almost caressed her before emotion shuttered them. “I’m attracted to you. I won’t deny it.” He huffed an audible sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “I also don’t like or trust reporters. Dammit, why did you have to be one?” He executed a half-hearted salute and walked away. “Good night, reporter lady.”
A dose of melancholy misted her eyes and she willed the tears away. Why would she care if the man never approached her again? Or kissed her? She turned and leaned her forehead against the front door, sighing. Something about the feelings he stirred in her scared her. The man certainly knew how to hijack a kiss. For a minute he had her femininity flying high—and she feared the crash landing the ride would surely bring.
****
Salt spray moistened Wolf’s face as the rubber inflatable craft sped along the causeway. He welcomed the familiar exhilaration, the adrenaline rush. Dressed in scuba gear, his gaze swept over his highly trained four-man Marine Rescue Unit as they expertly prepared for their rescue attempt. When the call came into the station from a stranded boat near Memorial Causeway Bridge, his team was underway in less than five minutes.
His diving partner, Barclay, shouted over the noise of the speeding engine, “Dispatch said the guy fell overboard?”
Wolf nodded. “Yeah. They were out here partying. Things got wild. One guy decided he could walk the boat’s railing. Damn fool.” He adjusted his scuba gear and double-checked his tank’s gauges.
As soon as they approached the boat, passengers screamed and pointed in the direction where their drinking buddy had toppled overboard. Wolf positioned his mask and mouthpiece while Quinn steered the craft around the designated area. Dread tensed Wolf’s muscles as he narrowed his eyes and scanned the area, ominously absent of anybody. Water lapped the sides of the rubber craft. He gave a thumbs-up signal to Barclay, who sat at the ready on the other side of the craft. They both flipped backwards into the water.
A sense of peace relaxed him as soon as he entered his domain. He was at home here—capable, confident and in control. Unlike when he interacted with his hot neighbor. Fuck, man, get her out of your mind.
Wolf swam toward Barclay and placed both index fingers side to side in the “swim together” signal and then pointed toward the left. His diving partner nodded. The water grew murkier the deeper they went. Nearly twelve minutes had passed since they’d responded to the call. How long had the man been able to stay afloat before he went under?
To his right, the water was muddier, as if recent rains had disturbed the natural order of things—or a man was struggling for his life. He tapped Barclay’s arm and pointed in that direction. His diving partner nodded, and they swam toward what Wolf hoped would be their target.
Wolf spotted him hung up on something and wide-eyed with fright, his arms flailing. He approached and removed his mouthpiece, extending it to the drowning man. The victim grasped the regulator and gulped oxygen. Wolf tried calming the man with touches and hand signals, but he was beyond comprehension.
After the man had drawn several breaths of air, Wolf tried taking the mouthpiece back so he could take a breath too. In his panic, the man swung at him, increasing his grasp on the regulator and hose. If Wolf didn’t get him under control, the frantic man would tear the tubing and then they’d both be up shit creek. He unbuckled the straps holding the tank to his body and slipped out of its confines. Then he wrapped the man’s arms around the cylinder of pressurized oxygen.
Meanwhile, Barclay worked to loosen the man’s foot from an outcropping of coral. Wolf removed his knife from its scabbard and cut the strings in the man’s sneaker. For some reason, insane with terror no doubt, the man swung the tank, striking Wolf in the shoulder. For a couple of heartbeats, a blinding, searing pain made him exhale, losing what air remained in his lungs. Foolish bastard: I’ve got a knife in my hand and you want to play games?
If Wolf were a lesser man, he’d slice the asshole’s foot just to give him a permanent souvenir of his stupid day of drunkenness in Florida. Barclay tapped his arm and extended his mouthpiece so Wolf could get a couple of much-needed gulps of air. He nodded his appreciation. Barclay’s instinctive reaction helped him to once more concentrate on controlling his breathing, the survival technique he’d perfected in the SEALs. From his peripheral vision, the tank came at him once more and he spun away. This guy is drunk and scared out of his fucking mind. God knows what he’ll do next.
His partner swam behind the man to prevent him from striking Wolf again. Once Wolf cut the side of the shoe, creating enough room to remove the man’s foot, he slipped it free. Wolf and Barclay swam for the surface, dragging the drunk between them.
Back at the fire and rescue station, Jace handed Wolf a cup of coffee and sat across from him at the large dining table the men shared. “You seem in a foul mood today.”
Wolf grunted and blew across the top of the steaming brew. His gaze swept around the living quarters the firemen and marine rescue team shared. Three sofas formed a U around a widescreen TV. Two computer desks lined one wall. Beyond them was a hallway leading to sleeping quarters and the showers. Two of his men sat on one of the sofas, playing on a Wii. Another raided the refrigerator.
Once Wolf’s unit had returned to the station, he’d dried, inspected and stowed his equipment before taking a hot shower and getting dressed. Now he was trying to eke out a little quiet time before the next emergency.
“Heard your rescue was a little tense for a while.”
His younger brother never did respect Wolf’s need for solitude. No use in getting upset with the chatterbox. Jace was Jace, and Wolf loved the brat the way he was. He leaned back and ran a hand over his face. “Yeah. The man put up a struggle. Sometimes people fight rescuers when they’re drowning. Fear overrides rational thinking. Don’t know how long he’d been under by the time we got to him.”
Jace narrowed his eyes. “How’s your shoulder?”
“No big deal.” Actually, the damn thing hurt like a sonofabitch whenever he moved it.
“Man needed an attitude adjustment. Why didn’t you clock him? I heard the asshole wasn’t even wearing a life preserver.”
Wolf shook his head. “I’m always amazed at people’s stupidity. I think the police took the whole crew into custody for a while. Hope it puts the fear of God into the tourists and sends them home with a new respect for how seriously we take water safety down here.” He sipped his coffee, trying to ignore the throbbing in his shoulder. He’d sleep on a heating pad tonight, and it would be fine by morning. “How’s little momma?”
Jace laughed. “She thinks she’s showing already.” He shrugged and reached for a handful of Christmas cookies from the holiday container one of the guys had set on the dining-room table at the station. “I’m just glad the first trimester is over. She got so depressed after the miscarriage last year. Not sure if I could handle seeing her go through that again.”
“But the doctor thinks things are fine, right?” His family meant everything to him. The prospect of a niece or nephew pleased him. Uncle Wolf, the co
olest uncle ever, had a lot of plans for the kid.
His brother exhaled a long, slow breath. “Yeah. Heartbeat’s strong. Things are looking good.” Jace’s typical cocksure smile spread. “Hey, noticed you talking to your neighbor at your party last night. Noticed all the sparks flying between you two.” Jace dunked a cookie in his coffee, a gawd-awful habit left over from childhood. “And I also noticed you were absent from the party for a while. Did you walk her home?”
“You always did notice too much. Smartass.”
Jace waggled his eyebrows and stuffed another coffee-soaked cookie into his mouth. “You interested?”
“She’s a damn reporter, man.” Something in Wolf’s gut twisted and acid rolled.
“So?”
The kid always was dense. Wolf leaned across the table. “So, you know how I feel about reporters after the way they hounded our family.”
“You need to get over that, man. Look,” Jace folded his arms at the edge of the table and set his jaw in that determined way he had. “Wendy Anne’s a history teacher, and you know how I’ve always hated history. Was I dumb enough to pass her over just because of that?”
Wolf blinked at his annoying brother twice. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“If you can’t figure it out, you’re a bigger dumbass than I thought.” Jace stood and brushed crumbs from his shirt. “Wendy Anne likes her and that’s good enough for me. Reporter or not.” He snatched his cup from the table and headed for the equipment room.
What did Wendy Anne’s being a history teacher have to do with Becca’s being a freakin’ reporter? History teachers never hounded pain-filled people in the midst of mourning. No. Reporters had exclusive dibs on that callous activity. Still, none of the reporters who’d harassed his family had been Becca. No doubt she’d still been in college back then. Was it fair to lump her into the whole rotten batch?
