by Jo Davis
“Coward.”
“Grace—”
She stalked him, moving into his space, and laid her good hand on his chest. “Damn, a fireman in uniform turns me on.”
“What are you doing?” His eyes widened.
“If you need to ask, you’re further gone than I thought.”
With that, she grabbed the back of his neck, pulled him in, and kissed him. His hesitation lasted a split second; then he melted into her, crushed her against him. He swept his tongue into her mouth and he tasted so fine, smelled spicy and all male. All hers.
He broke the kiss and stared into her eyes, expression agonized. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because you didn’t ask what I wanted.” She paused, hoping to convey every ounce of emotion she felt for him. “You left me in my hospital bed, alone and hurting for you. You took it upon yourself to be judge and jury over us, to blame yourself for what happened. You assumed you knew what I wanted and needed. But you never asked me.”
“I asked you before,” he said hoarsely. “You didn’t know.”
“Ask me again.”
“What do you want from me, bella?”
She tilted her face to his, whispering into his lips. “I want no man but you. I need to spend the rest of my life with you. Julian Salvatore . . . I love you. With all my heart.”
Making a strangled noise, he wrapped his arms around her, held her close. His heart thrummed madly in her ear and she snuggled into his warmth. Several seconds passed before he replied.
“Say it again.”
“I love you. Only you.”
“Oh, Grace. Dios, I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you, too. Let’s not do this again, okay? Whatever we face, we face it together. Deal?”
“Deal.” Cupping her cheeks, he tilted her lips to his. “I love you, too.”
A smattering of applause broke out, along with whistles and catcalls. Blushing, Grace turned her head to see that every single one of his friends, along with Kat, had drifted into the bay, some still munching on chocolate cake.
“Thank God,” Eve said, rolling her eyes. “He’s been a real asshole.”
“No fucking shit.”
Laughing, Tommy leaned against the quint, blond hair falling over his pale blue eyes. “More power to you, man. I’m not ever falling in love.”
Smiling, his eyes only for Grace, Julian said, “Famous last words, my friend.”
Julian counted himself the luckiest bastard on the planet. His lady was riding by his side on a gorgeous day, laughing, holding his hand . . . and wearing his engagement ring.
The Eagles were crooning about “the long run” on the radio; they had a picnic packed and the whole day ahead of them. Life is good.
And he no longer felt guilty about enjoying the second, and even third, chance he’d been handed. Carmelita would’ve wanted that for him, just as he would have for her. He intended to live every moment to the fullest.
Making a left turn, he swung his new Ford truck down the familiar bumpy path onto their property. They’d signed the mountain of papers less than an hour ago and driven straight out here for the official “we’re in huge debt” party.
He’d never been happier.
Pulling up next to the pond, he parked and hopped out, then skirted the truck to take the blanket and picnic basket from Grace. He spread the quilt on the ground and set the basket in one corner. “Wine?”
“I’d love some.”
He pulled a bottle from the basket and uncorked it, then handed it to Grace while he fished out two glasses. “Do the honors?”
“You bet.” Her right arm healed, cast history, she poured two healthy portions of Chardonnay and placed the bottle aside, on the ground. “A toast?”
“To us. And to all of the future picnics we’ll have right here by our pond.”
“I’ll drink to that!”
They clinked glasses and sipped their wine for a few moments, enjoying each other’s company and savoring the fact that this was their place. Their slice of heaven they’d build, together.
“Julian?”
“Do you remember my telling you that Kat and I used to visit our aunt in San Antonio during the summer?”
“Sure, why?”
“The Vineses were neighbors with our aunt, if you’ll recall.”
Puzzled, he waited for her to continue.
“I know we haven’t talked about what happened to you that day, all those years ago, but . . .”
“No, we haven’t.” Neither of them had wanted to focus on anything except the future, and loving each other. “What’s on your mind?”
“Remember when you told me about it? You said the doorbell rang, and you ran away.”
“Querida, I can’t imagine what—”
“Hear me out.” Scooting closer, she touched his arm. “When you told me, something niggled at the back of my mind. Then, when Mrs. Vines was holding us in the cave, she said the same thing—she answered the door while you escaped. That’s when it clicked into place.”
She took a deep breath. “Honey, I was the one who rang the doorbell.”
Julian stared at her, pulse drumming in his head. “What?”
“My aunt sent me over to borrow a cup of milk and two eggs. Mrs. Vines answered the door, and she was scary-pissed, at first. But when I explained what I needed, she composed herself and went to get it for me. While I waited on the porch, I saw a boy run across the lawn and down the street.”
“Grace, my God,” he breathed.
“I thought it was weird, but then Mrs. Vines came back with the stuff. I left, and never thought one more thing of it.”
“Until the night we found Brett.”
“Exactly. I’ve wanted to tell you, but I wanted to wait for the right time.” She smiled. “But today, with us celebrating our new beginnings . . . it just seemed to bring everything full circle, you know?”
“You’re amazing, that’s what I know.” Scooting close, he nuzzled her ear. “You’ve saved my life twice, and I’m the luckiest man on earth.”
Right now, his thoughts weren’t on floor plans or home decor. His mind wasn’t on fixing fence posts or paving the drive. Or even on the delicious food in their basket.
His wicked mind was on the delectable woman in his company. His woman. Carefully, he placed his wineglass on the ground outside the blanket, digging it into the ground a little so it wouldn’t fall over. He did the same to hers, laughing at her indignant protest.
“Hey! I wasn’t done with that!”
“We’ll get back to it,” he said, capturing her mouth with his.
If he lived to be one hundred, he’d never get enough of tasting her, of marking her as his. He’d waited long enough, and he never planned on wasting one minute again where Grace was concerned.
Lowering her onto her back, he nibbled at her neck, the flesh exposed by the part in her blouse. Impatient, he undid the tiny buttons, pulled the shirt from the waistband of her pants, and helped her off with it. As he encouraged her to sit up briefly, the bra went next, and he laid her down again, drinking her in.
“Dios, you’re beautiful. I want you naked and spread for me, right here in the sun. I want to make love to you, baby.”
“Oh, Julian, yes.”
She buried her fingers in his hair as he suckled her breasts, one after the other, feasting on her, loving how her sweet little nipples pointed skyward. Her skin was so creamy and perfect, he couldn’t help but sample every inch. He slid her pants and underwear down her legs, tossed them aside.
Standing, he got rid of his own clothing and gazed down on his gorgeous woman, his blood fired, his cock standing at attention. “Spread your legs for me.”
She did, every inch the sex siren, showing off her pretty pink slit, tempting him. She tempted him even more when she pinched her nipples, ran her hands down her stomach. With one hand, she fingered her clit, whirling the nub in lazy circles as she canted her hips, mimicking a nice, slow fuck.
“Ah, God, you drive me insane.”
Crouching between her legs, he cupped her ass cheeks in his hands and lifted her to his mouth. His tongue flicked her moist slit, sliding along the wet skin from back to front, laving until she writhed under the attention, begging for his cock.
“Julian! Do me, please, now!”
Kneeling, he lifted her butt, pulled her forward, and impaled her fully on his cock.
“Oh, God! Yes!”
She was so uninhibited, perfect for him. All his.
He fucked her with strong, sure strokes, taking his cues from how her body sang for him. She was completely open, his to have however he wished, and so he pounded her hard, drove into her until she yelled his name and tensed, her channel convulsing around him.
The tingling sparks began at the base of his spine, the tightening of his balls, and then he erupted. Shot his cum deep inside her, on and on, his exultant yell probably startling every speck of wildlife in the area.
As he finished shuddering his release, she grinned up at him. “Wow. If that’s what I can expect for the next forty or fifty years, sign me up.”
Pulling out, he rolled onto his back, settling her head on his chest. He particularly loved how her white blond hair fanned over his naked body. “You already signed up,” he informed her, pointing at the modest solitaire on her ring finger.
“Hmm. So I did. And you know, I think it’s the best decision I ever made, my sexy fireman.”
Okay, so he puffed up a bit at that. What red-blooded man wouldn’t? “I hope you always feel that way, bella.”
“Under one condition.”
“Anything.”
“Well, don’t get me wrong—this way was fantastic and all, but . . .” She rose up and peered at him, biting her lip.
“What?”
“The truck is great, but don’t ever sell your Porsche. I’m kind of fond of the hood.”
Bursting out laughing, he hugged her close. How had a man like him ever snared the most beautiful woman in the world, who loved him to distraction?
“I love you, baby.”
“Not as much as I love you.”
Yes, indeed, life was good. And in the end, how well a person was loved, and loved in return, was really the only thing that mattered.
Just to be sure she knew, he showed her. One more time.
Turn the page for a special preview
of the next book in the
Firefighters of Station Five series,
LINE OF FIRE
Coming from Signet Eclipse in May 2010
“Go wide! Go wide!”
“Come on, Skyler! Pass the ball!”
Tommy Skyler peddled backward, fingers gripping leather, muscles tense. A good quarterback never rushed.
A star quarterback locked on his receiver, fired, and planted the pigskin dead in his chest. Every single time.
For a couple of seconds, Tommy was back at Bryant-Denny Stadium. A crowd of over ninety thousand. Half of them on their feet, screaming his name.
Better than being a rock star. Almost better than sex.
He’d go down in fucking history.
Zeroing in on his target, he pumped his arm and let the football fly. It left his fingertips, spiraling in a perfect arc toward his receiver.
He had a split second to see Eve Marshall catch the pass with a muffled umphbefore his lieutenant at Fire Station Five, Howard “Six-Pack” Paxton, broke Julian Salvatore’s block. Barreled into Tommy like a two-ton freight train and put him on his back, the wind temporarily knocked out of his lungs.
Tommy heaved a breath, then barked a laugh as Six-Pack rolled off him. “Jesus. You missed your calling, man. You should’ve played in the pros.”
“Nah. I was completely disillusioned when I found out the players couldn’t date the cheerleaders. Ruined it for me.” The lieutenant pushed to his feet, brushed the grass off his regulation navy blue pants, and offered Tommy a hand.
Tommy took it, letting the big man yank him up. “I hear you. One of the dumbest rules on the planet, if you ask me.”
“Maybe that’s changed by now?”
“Got no clue.”
He suppressed the twinge in his chest. Once upon a time, he knew practically everything there was to know about the world of pro football. A world that had been his for the taking. And he’d been out of the loop for only two years.
Fuck, it felt like a lifetime. Might as well be.
“Great pass,” Eve said breathlessly, jogging over. She tossed the football back to Tommy, who caught it, grinning.
“Nice catch.”
Eyeing their pretty teammate, the only female firefighter at Station Five, he was distracted from answering right away. The woman had some serious mojo goin’ on, if a man didn’t mind ’em a little tough—both mentally and physically.
And Tommy so did not mind. From the top of her dark head to her lean, muscular body, to her long legs, the woman was strong as hell. The curve of her angular jaw hinted at more than a thin streak of stubbornness—more like a will of iron. He should know. He’d flirted with her, half seriously, over the past couple of years, only to be firmly shut down.
Oh, she didn’t mind his teasing, even seemed to get a kick out of it, but never failed to get across that their byplay would not evolve into something else. Ever.
Should his ribbing cross the line, she’d tear off his balls and feed them to him for lunch.
Not that Eve was his type anyway, since he’d met—
“Skyler? Yoo-hoo!”
He blinked at her. “What?”
Eve propped her fists on her slim hips. “I said, maybe you should’ve gone pro. Focus, kid.”
“I’m not a kid, Eve,” he said, suppressing a sigh of annoyance. Now, where have I heard that song and dance before? “And yeah, I thought about it. Didn’t work out.”
She frowned at his clipped tone, the absence of his usual comeback filled with innuendo. Something she wasn’t used to from him, he figured. “Why not?”
He barked a short laugh, surprised at the bitter sound. “I decided being rich and famous didn’t appeal.”
Tommy barely caught her scowl as he spun and strode for the bay. Behind him, he heard Julian caution quietly, “Leave it alone, Evie.”
“What? What’d I say?”
Three loud tones over the station’s intercom system ended her protest, and Tommy broke into a jog as the computerized female voice began to relay their call. Saved by the bell.
Or not. Crap. Had he heard correctly?
Zack Knight, their FAO—fire apparatus operator—stuck his head out of the bay and yelled. “Come on, slackers! Haul your asses!”
Tommy rushed into the bay and skidded to a halt next to the big quint, shoved his feet into his boots, and yanked up his heavy fire-retardant pants. The others followed suit as Tanner joined them.
Tommy glanced at Zack. “Did she say—”
“Scaffold collapsed downtown,” Sean interrupted, jerking on his own gear. “Two construction workers dead, one clinging to what’s left of the scaffold. Forty-four stories up.”
“Shit,” Tommy breathed. Quickly, he donned his coat and reached for his hat. “Aerial ladder on the quint’s not gonna reach.”
“One of you will have to rappel down to him, get him into a safety harness.” Ready, the captain yanked open the passenger’s door of the quint, braced a boot on the running board, and hauled himself up. “Let’s go!”
Tommy climbed into the backseat of the cab, followed by Julian. Zack slid behind the wheel and Sean took the place of the commanding officer in the passenger’s seat. Since the two commanding officers never rode in the same vehicle, the lieutenant took the ambulance, Eve joining him.
Tommy glanced at Julian, musing that just a couple of months ago their resident bad-boy jerk had been practically shackled to the lieutenant’s side. Out of sheer necessity, not brotherly love, for damned sure. But exorcising one’s demons, not to mention finding true love, had a tendency to change
a man for the better.
I don’t need to change, but I wouldn’t turn down the lovin’.
As if. Settling back in his seat, he frowned, attempting to force his mind away from a certain cute-as-a-button nurse with shoulder-length curly brown hair and liquid brown eyes. Freckles across her pert nose. Smart as a whip.
And harboring an apparent aversion to getting too close to him, no matter how hard he tried.
“I can hear your brain grinding, amigo. What gives?”
Tommy studied Julian, surprised, not for the first time, by the genuine concern on his friend’s face. “Dude, am I that obvious?”
“To me.” Julian shot a pointed glance to their companions in the front.
Tommy gave him a small smile, grateful the man had his back yet again. Jules wasn’t the type to flap his lips in front of the others, especially about two very painful subjects— the elusive Shea Ford for one. And for the other, exactly how Tommy’s dreams of the NFL had died.
On the topic of Shea, at least, he could let his friend off the hook. Besides, Zack and the captain weren’t paying attention anyway.
“Same girl problem, different day,” he replied simply. Julian nodded in understanding, giving him a grin.
“Still giving you grief about being too young? I told you the first thing you need to do is give your vocabulary a dude ectomy! A woman doesn’t mind her guy having the stamina of an eighteen-year-old, but she doesn’t want him to sound like one.”
Tommy laughed in spite of himself. “Girl advice, coming from the man who used to change women more often than his boxers. That’s scary, Jules.”
The other man arched a black brow, his teeth white against his bronzed face. “Caught me a fine one, didn’t I?”
“Touché. How is Grace, by the way?”
“Uh-uh, no changing the subject. So what seems to be the problem with you and your lady? I mean, you said you’ve been out together, right?”
“Yeah, for a quick burger, and once we went to a movie.” Tommy shrugged, not letting on how much her rejection of him as a man truly hurt. “We had a good time. But I might as well have been her brother, considering the distance she kept between us. When I dropped her off after the movie, she shook my freakin’ hand, man.”
