by Siera London
“I can do it myself.”
Was the woman ready to do a tug-of-war over him carrying her suitcase? Growing up in the south and showing courtesy to a lady was a sign of manhood. This little Texas wildflower needed some tending and special care as a fellow firefighter, of course.
“Never doubted you could, darlin'.” When he didn't relinquish the bag, reluctantly she released her grip, but her eyes remained fixed on his.
“Thanks...thank you for helping me.” She hesitated. “I really appreciate it.”
The sincerity in her tone shocked him. He took in her appearance again. She downplayed her beauty or at least she tried to. Even with her hair covered and the nondescript clothing, she was breathtaking. What was Kendall Raine's story? Cutler got the distinct feeling he wouldn't like it.
Chapter Two
If Cutler Stevens represented the men of Key West, thank the leaves on the trees, Kendall would be gone in two weeks. The lights in her clubhouse flickered on and the caretaker threw the doors wide open the instant she spied his firm butt covered in well-worn denim. When he turned to face her, an invisible fist grabbed the seat of her panties and ripped them off. Poof...they were gone with the wind. When the flimsy material took flight, she heard the split seams yell 'what happened'? Heck if she knew. His face, with its prominent brows and sculpted cheekbones was front page worthy, especially with those Caribbean blue eyes. A tank could hit his chiseled jaw, but she doubted that it would be moved. And his mouth, with a slightly fuller bottom lip, had an enter at your own risk warning.
Kendall tripped and stumbled across the rain-slicked pavement, worse than a college freshmen drunk on two for one shots, as she followed Cutler to his truck. Maybe if she kept her eyes off his ass...not a chance. Plump raindrops collected on her lashes. Quick as a pair of wiper blades she wiped them away. Mother Nature would not obscure her view of the masterful creation guiding her footsteps. The man moved with the sensual grace of a king cobra weaving his way up from his lair. Hypnotic beauty to watch for any woman not on life support, but dangerous all the same. With every one of his booted footfalls thudding on the concrete, she heard the echo of his masculinity piped through ninety-inch speakers.
As they crossed the sidewalk to a he-man pickup truck tricked out in black chrome, Kendall slowed her step. She took a deep inhale, giving her mind precious seconds to process the unexpected attraction to this stranger. From this distance, she let her eyes soak in his muscles. Beneath his KWFD polo shirt and fitted jeans, a cut and conditioned warrior's body made itself known with the now damp fabric clinging to his gorgeous physique.
“How long are you in town for?” he asked. Feet still moving, Kendall answered his question, rewarding herself with another sneak peek.
“A couple of weeks,” she stated. That sigh in her voice just wouldn't do. She'd taken this assignment to further her career and get her life in order. No men. Not even sexy ones with perfect smiles and super hero good looks. The real super heroes like Superman and the Hulk that got Halloween costumes and pajama sets made in their likeness.
“Our arson investigator, Nathan Zachary, was in Dallas for three months.” His voice lifted against the sound of the falling precipitation. “Why are you limited to two weeks?”
She suspected Captain Stewart worried she had lost her focus. The rumors about her and Beck had died down, but when you share the same sleeping quarters in twenty-four hour shifts, people talk. Sending her to Key West was a test. How broken was she? The itch to push the limit had to be put back in the bottle if she wanted to stay on the DF&R squad. Could she control the inner darkness her time with Beck had unearthed? Kendall didn’t ponder the answer to that question. She had lost her parents, her belief in the sanctity of marriage, and her faith that when confronted with an injustice, the people around her would intervene. She could have choked on her naivety. Nothing else would be taken from her…not without one hell of a fight.
“Assignments are not created equal.” Kendall arched a brow in defiance.
Cutler's ocean blue collared shirt fit him to perfection. Wind blew the rain at them sideways, making the fabric cling to his chiseled flank on the left and billow outward on the right. The denim jeans hugged his tight butt. She traced the outline of his muscled thighs down to his ripped and shredded calf muscles. Instead of a firefighter calendar, his body should be photoshopped on every anti-depressant prescription bottle. She certainly felt happier since he'd arrived.
But wait, there's more she heard the voice in her head say. His blond hair flowed in thick waves to just shy of his shoulders. It wasn't that uni-shade of blond from a bottle either, nope. His mane consisted of layered dark strands with golden ropes beneath sun-lightened waves. The ends were saturated with rainwater and she noticed the curl pattern had deepened. With those blue eyes, the body designed by a god, and the storm on the horizon, she half expected a trident to appear in his hand and the rain to obey his command. Definitely, Olympic God material.
“Kendall.”
Her breath hitched when he called her name. Unfortunately her brain was preoccupied with shoveling coal into her long dormant sexual furnace so Kendall didn't stop her feet's forward advance. She continued on the horny bunny train to X-ratedville until she slammed into his back. The air swooshed from her lungs. Her right foot slipped and she felt her knee buckle. In an effort to break her impending fall, she grabbed Cutler around the waist, plastering her front to his back. Dang, his ass was rock hard and she melted into his backside like butter on hot breakfast toast.
A muscled forearm came down over hers, locking her in place. The heat from his palm, broad and callused, warmed her wet skin.
He chuckled. “Grabby little thing, aren't you.” For a moment they both stood still. “I like it.”
Her head rested on his back. Slowly, remnants of proper manners invaded her conscious thought and she moved to pull her arm free of his.
“It was an accident...sorry.” Seconds ticked by in silence. Would he accept her apology? People bumped into one another everyday, of course he would accept her apology. She realized the fantasy musings combined with an active imagination had her overreacting. So, why hadn't he said anything?
Cutler's fingers tightened on her arms and her skin started to sizzle at the added contact.
“You getting caught watching my ass or you hugging it?”
She was speechless. What kind of man brought up his assets with a woman he’d just met? Kendall swallowed her retort because...excitement fluttered her insides, not remorse.
“Which is it darlin'? Accidentally watching or accidentally hugging?”
They both were looking forward. Her front pressed against his back, so he couldn't see her expression. Did she want him to see the sparkle of lust in her eyes? Nope...she had to stay focused or at least make it to her hotel before she had any more thoughts about her new teammate.
“I think we should go, Cutler.”
She had to avoid engaging this man. In a matter of minutes, he and his sinful good looks had disarmed her. What would happen if she surrendered to her cravings?
“Why...I'm trying my best to be hospitable.”
She became aware of him stroking her skin. Goosebumps. Yep, and then she started to tremble. Kendall felt the subtle shift of muscle along his back.
“You okay?” His voice held a hint of concern.
She lifted her head and looked up. From over his left shoulder, Cutler stared down at her, a furrow between his brows. He must think her a brazen woman. She'd been caught checking him out, there was no denying that fact. She lowered her head not wanting him to see the lust firing behind her eyes. Maybe Beck's accusations about her nature held some merit. Kendall Raine, you are one messed up public servant, girlfriend.
Cutler turned around. She realized she still held him around the waist. Real careful like, she unlaced her fingers from behind his back. In a parallel universe, she could separate herself from her very nice co-worker and he would do her a solid and pretend he didn't
notice.
“Leave them there, darlin'.”
She froze. Oh gosh, would he lecture her, and then tell her new boss she was a touchy flake with a wandering eye.
“I'm sorry, Cutler. My attention was...,” she trailed off. Her attention and her thoughts were in the gutter, rolling around with thighs wide enough for his tapered hips.
She gasped when he pulled her in tighter. “Your body just softened in my arms, darlin'. Tell me what you're thinking about us right now.” The look on his face was somewhere between a smile and a frown. “I doubt you're sorry about touching me. We're both adults, so you don't have to deny yourself a damn thing, Kendall.”
Her stomach fluttered at the musical hum he added to each syllable. What was she sorry for again? Not a darn thing when he said her name with that slow drawl. Her heart thundered in her chest at their closeness.
“I...I ah, I ah.” She hesitated. Nope, that was not hesitation, she was stuttering. Th-Th-Th-Th—, That’s all folks.
His fingertips sat in the small of her back. She gasped when he pressed deeper into the tissue making small circles. The sensual pull overwhelmed her sexual hibernation. Her libido burst from its cell like the Incredible Hulk, angry with pent up frustration, and powerful enough to tackle Cutler if she didn't put some space between them. Of course, with his chest pressing into hers, her body responded in kind. Her breasts became hypersensitive, her nipples tightened, pushing back against his packed muscle.
“Kendall.”
Her name was more of a question on his lips. She closed her eyes. How had she allowed this to happen?
“Yes.” She held her breath, wondering what he would say next.
He cleared his throat before he spoke. “You're responding.”
Okay, this was not the conversation she needed to have with the guy giving her a ride. A woman, even a divorced one with experience, did not discuss nipple behavior with a stranger. A stranger that lit a fire where there had been dry ice. Very ouch.
“Let's pretend none of this ever happened,” she said on a shaky breath.
“Won't work for me.” He lowered his head. The stubble covering his jaw brushed across her cheek and she felt a pulse of desire deep in her core. His scent was that of a cool ocean breeze mixed with spring rain. Both had always felt heavenly on her bare skin. He would too, Kendall thought.
“Why not?” she croaked.
He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, capturing her gaze.
“Because I never lie to myself and I won’t ever lie to you.” Cutler closed the distance between them, damp bodies touching. He whispered in her ear, “Now, do you want me darlin’ or is this your normal reaction when a man is in close proximity?”
Kendall gasped. What woman went super nova around every guy? Once again, she chastised herself for lack of focus. She needed to shut him down...now. Right after she got her body under control.
“I don't want anybody,” she snapped.
“Unless you've got some nervous system damage, that's not true. You want me.”
She grumbled, but told him the truth. “If I did, I don't want to want you. You happy now?” she ground out, not pleased at the direction of her welcome to Key West conversation.
“Not one bit, because” he said dropping his hands from her waist and grabbing her wrist, “if you do want me, I need to get you to your hotel ASAP.”
Mental whiplash had her brain scrambling to catch up. She told him the truth, now she was public enemy number one. “What's the rush?”
“Besides the storm brewing? Us getting involved would be a disaster.”
“I already told you, I don't want to want you.”
“Darlin', that there’s a giant red flag with the words, ‘aim here’ printed on both sides.”
“You'd pursue me anyway?” she asked, disbelief in her tone.
“I love the hunt, Kendall, but I'm a one-night at a time kinda guy and we have to work together.”
“Are you implying I'd get hooked on you?”
His eyes raked up and down her body, a wicked grin covering his lips. “I'd try my hardest to make it so.”
Instantly, her insides heated. She forced herself to look away.
“We need to stay away from one another, Kendall.”
When her stomach quivered in response, she nodded in agreement. Her phone chimed an incoming message. She glanced down at the smart watch on her wrist. It was Gordon. She was sure the doctor wanted to ensure she'd arrived safely in Key West. She let the call go to voicemail. Kendall glanced over at Cutler. Hot, burning lust licked through her veins. The sooner Cutler dropped her off at the hotel the better. Her feet were on the ground, but clearly, her head was in the clouds.
Chapter Three
Cutler glanced around the empty La Koncha Hotel lobby. Its black and white decor elegant, but too stark for Kendall's colorful personality. He was having a major problem keeping his erection in the down position. In the two-mile drive from the airport, everything in him wanted to put her on a tray table with him pinning her in the upright position. He needed to get a grip, and the front desk clerk, with his bored expression, did little to help the situation.
“What do you mean you cancelled her reservation?” Cutler struggled to keep his voice calm. He felt on edge around Kendall, an emotion he rarely experienced with women.
“Cutler...please,” Kendall said tugging at his shirt sleeve. “I could try and reach my Grandma Dinah again.”
He glanced down at her. Those bright green eyes of hers brought him to heel like a match to a flame. A couple of dial backs on the testosterone might help him approach the problem with a level head. Who was he kidding? One look at Kendall had him aching to take her in his arms. She'd tried to reach her granny twice during the ride. With the storm barreling up the coast, Cutler wasn't surprised that some areas had already lost connectivity.
“You're safer here.” Not necessarily with him. “The middle Keys are less populated with less support services. It could be days before power is restored.”
The clerk looked up from his computer monitor. The sudden rise of the man's shoulders told Cutler whatever he would say next would not be helpful.
“Everything is closed or closing, sir. The hotel has evacuated its guests and cancelled all pending reservations including Ms. Raine's.”
A touch to his forearm drew his attention. “Cutler, just drop me off at the station. I'll bunk there for the night.”
He shook his head. “The Captain called in two crews just in case. There's nowhere for you to sleep.”
She gave him a wry smile. “I don't suppose there's a shelter nearby?”
A twinge of annoyance thumped in his chest. He'd never leave a woman he was responsible for at a shelter.
Taking her hand he led them back to the revolving doors. “I know someone who can help us.”
Five minutes later Cutler walked through the doors of Hobo Alley Bar and Grill, the local firefighter favorite.
“You hang out at a place called Hobo Alley?” Kendall teased, following him inside.
The soothing melody of a country crooner hit Cutler's eardrums and his heart rate slowed to a waltz. The sweet smell of barley, hops, and fried corn wafted past his nose and he inhaled, pulling the familiar fragrance deeper inside. This was his home away from home.
“Darlin' the only things that separate a saltwater Conch from a real Hobo, is a paycheck and a boat. Otherwise, we're indistinguishable.”
Voices drifted up from tables and he didn't have to look to know who was talking. A table full of old timers called his name in unison. Cutler tipped the bill of his cap in greeting.
“Gentlemen.”
“Yea, on what planet?” came the retort, followed by some hearty laughter.
“Guess he's trying to impress the new lady,” someone shouted.
Kendall laughed behind him. “How often are you here?” she inquired.
Hobo Alley, a favorite with the local bubbas and cuzzies, was nothing fancy to loo
k at, but the camaraderie he deemed priceless. The place had a rustic feel with dark plank floors and wooden tables. It sat on the corner of Eaton and Key West’s infamous Duval Street. Twin windows the size of mansion doors faced south toward Truman Annex with a matching pair pointed east toward the Atlantic Ocean. In addition to the primo street view, there was a room-length bar, a band, and one hot plate dinner special every night.
“Every chance I get,” Cutler laughed.
Scuffed high top tables loaded down with empty amber colored bottles filled the room. The Key West firefighters had a designated table at Hobo's. Rachel, the redhead that owned the place, called it the hot guys’ table. The Captain had outdone himself with the recall roster, every bar stool stood empty. Cutler thought he'd dodged a bullet with the storm falling on his Kelly Days, a four-day vacation following his forty-eight on/seventy-two hours off rotation.
Trace Fletcher, a member of his fire crew, was exiting the blue door, marked cowboys.
“Trace, man. Am I glad to see you.” Trace was the biggest SOB on the island at six feet five inches, packing two eighty on a light day. Ink black hair and eyes added to his intimidation factor, but the guy had a heart of gold double his body weight for everyone he met. His two-bedroom condo was nestled on Key West's only golf course and with its ensuite bath layout it would be perfect for an overnight guest. Cutler could supply Kendall with enough food, water, and candles, and then check on her after the storm. Temptation out of sight, would hopefully translate to trashy thoughts out of mind.
“Don't be too glad, I'm headed into the station to relieve the day crew.”
Cutler slapped him on the back. “That's perfect because, our new firefighter,” he reached for Kendall and she stumbled backwards. Both men regarded the woman in their midst.
Kendall stepped up. “Hi, Trace. I'm Kendall Raine, here on temp assignment from Dallas Fire & Rescue.”
