by Anne Marsh
“You realize there’s no way to prove you’re right.”
“Uh-huh. Are you reneging on our bet?” She grinned at him.
“Hell, no. Now I’m just scared to order, boo.”
She relieved him of his menu as the waitress came up to him. “I’ve got you covered. No worries.”
Warmth snuck up on him. He liked her even better when she ordered pancakes with bacon. And a side of steak. And potatoes, fried tomatoes and a piece of pie. Times two. He told the waitress to bring it all at once.
“Do I look like a lumberjack? Or like I’m starvin’?”
She looked him over, a slow, hot feminine examination that had parts of him sitting up and taking notice. Maybe she was sticking with him for more than a ride and a meal. A man could hope.
“A good meal never hurt anyone.”
When the food came, he started with the pie. “You never know when the call’s comin’ in. I’m startin’ with the good stuff,” he said when she looked at him questioningly.
“Good plan,” she agreed, her lips curving in a smile. “I like your style, firefighter.”
When the food came, they ate for a while before she broke the silence with a “Tell me about Strong?”
He stole a bite of bacon from her plate, deftly avoiding her fork. He’d learned a few things in the firehouse.
“It’s a small town in Northern California. Pretty, according to my cousin’s girlfriend, but not too big. I think you could count the streets on two hands. Maybe one.” He hadn’t asked too many questions.
“They hire a lot of firefighters?”
“They’ve got a firehouse with two ladders and Donovan Brothers run a smoke jumping team.”
It was big enough for him—and it wasn’t Vegas.
“Have you jumped before?”
“I did when I was military.”
“You didn’t want to stay in?”
He shook his head. “The jumpin’ and the planes were good, but there was too much downtime. Me, I need to stay busy.”
“Vegas didn’t keep you busy enough?”
He shook his head. “The last fire wasn’t good.”
“There’s such a thing as a good fire?” She sounded serious, but not judging. He liked the way she listened to him. The waitress slid two more pieces of pie in front of them. Chocolate for her. Coconut cream for him. Chloe could definitely put away food.
He chewed on his pie for a moment, thinking about his answer. “Oui,” he said finally. “You got yourself fires where the ladder gets there quickly and you have what seems like all the time in the world to knock the flames down. The building’s empty and the water pressure, she’s perfect. It’s just you and the fire and you put her out, no problems. That’s a good fire.”
She set her fork down. “And the bad ones?”
“You don’ get there in time and the building’s an old one, goin’ up too fast, too hot. You’ve got a family inside, part of a family. Kids who were home alone, but no one’s gettin’ them out tonight. No matter how hard you pump, that water’s not goin’ to be enough, not those nights.”
She got up and came around to slide into the booth beside him, her thigh bumping his. Then she patted his arm in a gesture that had to be the least carnal touch ever and yet still somehow managed to set him on fire.
“Shit,” she said softly. “That’s a bad fire all right.”
She didn’t try to tell him he was wrong or look uncomfortable. She looked sad, but for him.
“Smoke jumpin’, you’re goin’ out the plane,” he said, wanting her to understand.
“No buildings,” she agreed. “I like wide open spaces myself.”
“They’ve got that in Strong. I don’ know much about the place, but my cousin likes it.”
“Enough for you to go out there.”
It was a nine-hour drive and the last bit of highway was all mountains. He’d be pulling in well after midnight, but his cousin had arranged for him to have a cottage and promised to stock the fridge with milk and beer. He had cereal in the back of the truck, and cat food for his feline companions. He didn’t need much more than that. Other than a do-over on his life so far.
“I wanted to start again and I’ve got family near there. It seemed as good a place as any.” The words surprised him. He hadn’t told anyone his reasons for quitting Vegas.
“I hear you there. You think they need a waitress out there?” She gave him a half-smile and then started pocketing coffee creamers.
“You plannin’ on bein’ thirsty?” He didn’t know how to answer her question. She was gorgeous trouble and he had no idea what the diner situation was in Strong. Or how he felt about her setting up shop in the same town as him. He’d be seeing her then.
“For the kittens.”
He liked her soft side. He really, really did.
When they reached his truck, she set her baggie of leftovers on the pavement and leaned over the side, rummaging in the back for her suitcase. Were those leftovers her groceries for the next couple of days?
“Thanks for dinner,” she said.
His phone buzzed and he checked it. A text from his cousin. Where are you?
With Chloe.
He typed a quick response and then reached out to help Chloe with her case. She’d packed rocks. Or the Encyclopedia Britannica. He had no idea how she’d lifted the bag into the bed of his truck earlier, but the thing had to outweigh her two to one. He hesitated and then swung the bag back into the truck.
His phone buzzed again. Eating alone in a diner does not a Friday night make.
He texted back: On a date.
“Is that what we’re doing?” Chloe peeked over his shoulder. “I thought you were dumping me here.” She wasn’t much for boundaries. He’d figured that out after twenty miles, not that he had any intention of letting on just how much he enjoyed having her in his space. When he popped the door for her, she hopped right in, so maybe she’d enjoyed his company too.
He went around the truck. No one fell in love in love going sixty miles an hour for six hours. When they got where they were going, though…well, he had some thoughts about that. He definitely didn’t want to drive off and leave Chloe standing here. She eyed him cautiously when he got in and shut the door.
“Are we still driving buddies?”
“I wan’ a chance,” he said.
“A chance at what?” She crossed her right leg over her left, pink Converse kicking at his dashboard.
“Us.”
It was stupid to be making a move on her when she’d planned on marrying some other guy earlier today. And it wasn’t like he was offering her a ring or even a place in his heart. But…the possibility teased him. He saw lots of possibilities when he looked at Chloe. The real question was: what did she see when she looked at him?
“I’ll bet they could use a waitress out at Strong. And I can call my cousin, see if he knows someplace where you could crash until you’ve got your feet on the ground.”
“Uh-huh. Stop the car.”
Had he scared her off? Misread her? He killed the engine—and she launched herself at him. Her hands found his shoulders, pulling him close. Thank God. She wanted this possibility too. She smelled good and felt even better. He wanted to hold her, to keep her safe after her shit day—and he wanted to do other things too. He covered her mouth with his and gave up his battle to ignore the arousal burning through him. That was one firefight he’d lost.
Instead, he kissed her and she opened up, letting him in. Her cheek was silky smooth beneath his fingers, small strands of her fair tickling his face. Her lips teased his right back, her tongue tangling with his. She tasted like peach lip gloss, sweet pie, and…Chloe. Oui. His new someone special. He couldn’t have stopped himself from kissing her if the whole parking lot had caught on fire.
She let out a husky groan that made him hold her even tighter, closer.
His Chloe. He hadn’t known he was looking for her and not Strong when he left Vegas this morning. He lifted his
head and smiled at her. She was the perfect kind of trouble.
“Drive,” she whispered, but then she kissed him again and he forgot all about leaving because he was too busy driving her wild.
Series List
Contemporary Romance – Smoke Jumpers
BURNING UP (Smoke Jumpers, Book 1)
SLOW BURN (Smoke Jumpers, Book 2)
BURNS SO BAD (Smoke Jumpers, Book 3)
SMOKING HOT (Smoke Jumpers, Book 4)
SWEET BURN (Smoke Jumpers, Book 5)
Contemporary Romance – The Hotshots
REBURN (The Hotshots, 1)
HOT ZONE (The Hotshots, 2)
FIRED UP (The Hotshots, 3, in HOT SHOTS)
Contemporary Romance – Men of Discovery Island
WICKED SEXY (Men of Discovery Island, 1)
WICKED NIGHTS (Men of Discovery Island, 2)
WICKED SECRETS (Men of Discovery Island, 3)
Paranormal Romance – Blue Moon Brides
TEMPTED BY THE PACK (Blue Moon Brides, Book 1)
PLEASURED BY THE PACK (Blue Moon Brides, Book 2)
CLAIMED BY THE PACK (Blue Moon Brides, Book 3)
Paranormal Romance – The Fallen
BOND WITH ME (Fallen, Book 1)
HIS DARK BOND (Fallen, Book 2)
SAVAGE BOND (Fallen, Book 3)
Non-Series Books
ONE HOT COWBOY
THE HUNT
VIKING’S ORDERS
Want Free Books?
Want to be the first to learn about new releases and get access to special sneak peeks and free books? Join my newsletter at http://ymlp.com/signup.php?id=geumewqgmgb
If you enjoyed this story, please take a moment to post a review online and share what you enjoyed. Many readers, particularly on Amazon and Goodreads, value the opinion of other readers. Plus, I love knowing what the “good parts” were so that I can make sure to include plenty more of them in the next book!
Sweet Burn
It’s supposed to be a quick wedding hook-up. She’s lonely. He’s available. After seeing Rio Donovan and Gia Jackson down the aisle, the sizzling sexual chemistry between Mimi Hart and Mack Landry has this pair burning up the sheets in a night of no-holds fantasies. One night. No regrets. And no promises.As Strong’s resident bad girl and bartender, Mimi has earned every inch of her reputation. Tattoos, motorcycles and dancing on the bar—Mimi’s all in. She’s fun and she’s tough, a hot sex-on-the-pool-table woman—not a sunset-and-kisses sweetheart. Until her wedding hook-up, Mack Landry, turns into a man on a sensual mission…and threatens to send her heart into freefall even as her own past threatens to catch up with her.
Keep reading for an exclusive sneak preview of the first two chapters!
Available June 15th, 2014
Chapter One
Sinning had never smelled so good. Hair tickled his nose and, when he inhaled, the scent of coconut and freesia teased his senses. Woman and… yeah… tequila. Mack Johnson wished the tequila had been the reason for his downfall. A man could swear off alcohol easy enough. The woman he was wrapped around? Not so much. Mimi Hart was pure trouble.
His years in the military had taught him to wake up fast and, even before he opened his eyes, he was analyzing the situation: he was naked. She was also. So far, so good. Early morning sun painted his hotel room a hazy gold. He’d bet the winery outside his window was a pretty sight too—it had looked damned fine yesterday when Evan Donovan had exchanged his I dos with Faye Duncan in front of his fellow smoke jumpers. The entire team had come out to support Evan and to celebrate with him. Evan had found himself a hell of a good woman in Faye and he’d had been smart enough to hold onto her. He was a lucky dog.
Mack had witnessed the ceremony, raised a glass of celebratory champagne and been prepared for an early night and a quick retreat because parties weren’t his scene anymore. Mimi had had other ideas. The memories of last night flooded right back. She’d approached him at the bar. They’d danced, her ass rubbing naughty circles against his front. And then she’d propositioned him. He should have said no.
Instead, he’d kissed her and that was all the yes she’d needed.
The adrenaline rush of sharing a bed with Mimi just might be more addictive than any he’d experienced, either fighting for Uncle Sam overseas or jumping out of the DC-3 and into the heart of a forest fire. Clear a room of insurgents. Clear a runway of burning debris. Clear a fireline and halt the flames’ advance. He excelled at taking charge and had never shied from a challenge.
Mimi had him rethinking that stance because, damn, she was a challenge like none he’d ever seen.
Her long blonde hair covered her face, his pillow, his arm. The stuff got everywhere and when he flexed his left hand working out the morning stiffness that was a souvenir from one of his last firefights with his Crash, Fire and Rescue unit, the silky strands ran through his fingers like liquid gold. Mimi was a damned beautiful woman and he wondered again what she was doing in Strong. He had no idea how old she was—that was just one of the many secrets she kept—but he wouldn’t have been surprised to learn he had ten years on her. She might be young in years, but she was an old soul.
“Mimi.” He crooned her name. She’d tried insisting he call her Ms. Hart the first time he’d dropped in at the bar she owned and ran in Strong, and he’d stared her down, silently demanding she rescind her order. Mimi liked playing power games; he’d seen her do it to more than one member of his jump team and he already knew those were hoops he had no intention of jumping through. Eventually, she’d laughed and asked him what he wanted to drink and she’d been his Mimi ever since.
“Sleeping,” she mumbled. Her voice was husky and low, a lushly feminine sound. He’d made her recite the bar’s entire drinks offering just to keep her talking that first night in the bar. She probably could have made a fortune doing voice-overs.
He didn’t believe she was sleeping however.
“Sweet little liar.” He ran a hand down her back, twitching the sheet away until the cotton fell to her waist. Her tattoo started there, at the small of her back, a rainbow-colored, swirling tree that traced the straight line of her spine and then branched to wrap around her ribs and the bottom of her left breast. Last night he’d explored her tattoo with his mouth and his hands. She’d encouraged him, too, all More, Mack and Now, damn it, Mack.
She didn’t move when he touched her, her breathing steady and even. Playing possum. He’d make her say his name, he decided, because when he flattened his hand on her ass the betraying twitch gave away her game. She was good. His mouth curled in a grin. But not perfect. Nope. There was nothing perfect about his Mimi at all. It was damned hard to have regrets when the cause of his backsliding was the one woman he’d lusted after for months.
The room slowly lightened, the dark less intense and details clearer. Mimi’s panties lay on the floor by the bed near a pair of ridiculously high four-inch heels that had almost made her a match for his six feet. The first time he’d taken her, the shoes hadn’t come off.
He pressed his mouth against base of her spine, rubbing his stubble-roughened cheek against her soft skin. He’d discovered last night that Mimi loved a small bite of pain with her pleasure. Her soft shudder of acceptance gave him the same feeling of anticipation he got when he was braced in the door of the DC-3 and waiting for the spotter’s slap on his shoulder, his signal to jump.
He kissed her again now, catching her skin gently between his teeth and nipping. The mood ring she always wore on her ring finger glowed a soft, happy pink. She didn’t mind his attentions at all.
Jump thousand.
He fell into familiar mental rhythm of the smoke jumper. He ran the chant through his head each and every time he jumped from the DC-3 and got ready to pull the cord on his chute, the familiar words centering him and reminding him of the steps he needed to take because fire was too dangerous to not play it safe on the way to the ground. A man jumped, and then he waited a handful of seconds, took stock, and pulled the cor
d before guiding himself down to the landing zone. Mimi was the same way. He’d jumped headlong into her arms and now he ran the risk of getting burned.
“You’re awake,” he whispered roughly. Two words weren’t much of a wake-up call. He should have told her how great last night had been. Should have asked if he could see her again. But this was Mimi. She’d danced with him, kissed him, and then threaded her fingers through his and dragged him off for a “walk” in the vineyard before the happy couple had even cut the cake. She’d made it clear that she wanted one thing only from him: a single night of hot, blistering sex.
When he touched her now, however, his morning-after reward was an almost inaudible catch of her breath. She’d make him work for it and that was fine by him. He’d never been afraid of work.
Look thousand.
He surveyed and she was a damned sight prettier than any open chute in the sky. He hadn’t seen much of her after they’d come back, because she’d told him to leave the light off. She hadn’t given him reasons or excuses—just made her straightforward demand—and that had bothered him. Not enough to change his mind, but he’d wanted her to know he was the one loving on her—and so instead of gazing into her eyes, he’d left his mark on her body. Her mouth was kiss-swollen and her pretty thighs reddened by the faint red marks of his whiskers. She might not have wanted to see his face last night, but she’d think of him all day today and probably tomorrow as well. He’d made sure of that.
“Mimi.” He repeated her name and again got no visible reaction from her. Bringing her back to his room had been a mistake. He didn’t do one-night stands and he’d given up casual sex a decade ago. While his decisions made him more of a monk than he liked, he also liked being able to live with himself in the morning. Looking at Mimi, her body slowly coming into focus in the watery light, he had an urge to hold onto her and the moment even though she’d made it clear he was supposed to let go. She’d decided he got one shot at having her and that shot ended in the morning—and he’d agreed. Mistake.
