by Lori Foster
He’d done what he was trained to do.
It hadn’t been easy to carry the man out while dragging the teenage son. Everything was ablaze, the smoke so dense he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. He’d made his way through, inch by inch, but he’d managed, and they’d all lived. He was grateful for that—and embarrassed that so much hoopla had been made about it. He didn’t ever again want to find himself as the focus of a crowd; it always reminded him of that awful wedding day when he’d been left standing alone at the altar.
Yet there he’d been last night, at the damn ceremony, being applauded by the very people who’d looked at him with pity the night his bride had failed to show. He’d been dressed up then, too, and he’d felt just as numb.
The memories assailed him, churning through his blood, ringing in his ears. He breathed hard, nearly panting, but it didn’t help.
God, he was going to puke again.
Rosie touched his chest, gently stroking his right pectoral muscle. Her fingertips grazed his nipple.
It so startled him, the awful memories faded beneath a new emotion. He felt his body stir with sexual awareness.
“I was so proud of you, Ethan, when they gave you the Fire Commission’s Valor Award. But then I’m always proud of you. You risk your life all the time without a second thought. You do what most men won’t do—to help others. You’re always so tall and commanding and direct. And last night you looked so incredibly handsome in your dress uniform.”
Trying to ignore his unwanted arousal, Ethan focused on her soothing voice and eventually on the familiar features of her face. Rosie smiled at him and rested her palm over his heart.
“You know, you owe it to yourself for the person you are, and to the community for the person they see you as, to stop being a self-pitying jerk.”
He lurched at the shock of her words, such a contrast to the mood she’d created. Rosie poked him in the chest. Her voice was no longer quite so soothing. “I understand how you feel, Ethan—”
“You can’t have a clue.”
That seemed to make her angrier. “You’re obviously, rightfully, embarrassed that Michelle jilted you.”
“In front of two hundred people.” He hadn’t meant to shout, not that it fazed Rosie at all. No, if anything, she stepped closer until he felt her legs against his.
She tilted her head way back so she could stare him in the eyes. “When you carry on the way you do, it looks like you’re still pining over her.”
Ethan snorted. Personally, he thought just the opposite to be true. People saw him with different women, saw him enjoying his bachelor life, and it proved that he was over Michelle, that he didn’t care.
That she hadn’t ripped his heart out.
Leaning closer still, until her nose nearly touched his chin, Rosie said, “But I know you’re not lovesick, Ethan. I know, because you didn’t love her.”
Ethan grabbed her shoulders to keep her from getting any closer. He would have moved away from her, but she had him boxed in. That thought almost made him smile. He weighed a smidgen off two hundred pounds, and Rosie couldn’t possibly go over one-thirty, yet she did her best to intimidate him with her body.
Her best was pretty damn tantalizing, he admitted, when he felt her soft belly against his crotch.
All humor vanished.
She stared up at him, her eyes the color of an approaching storm. “You want people to know you’re over Michelle, that she didn’t really affect you? Well, I have a better suggestion than what you’ve been doing.”
Ethan could barely breathe. Her mouth was right there, so close he could smell the toothpaste she’d just used and damn, it looked good. He wanted her, whether he denied it or not, whether he wanted to or not. Unable to move, he growled, “What suggestion?”
“Get involved with a nice girl.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth and her voice lowered, went husky in a way he’d never heard from Rosie before. “Quit playing the sexist Neanderthal and get serious again. Stop running scared.”
“I’m not—”
She touched his bottom lip, stealing his thoughts, making him tense. She whispered, “Let me love you.”
* * *
ETHAN KEPT TO THE SHADOWS of the large elms that lined the street, skirting buildings while trying not to look too furtive. He wanted to see her without being seen himself.
He couldn’t believe he was doing this.
Actually, everything he’d done in the past twenty-four hours fell into the realm of the “not to be believed,” starting with getting rip-roaring drunk, and ending with Rosie in his bed. So what did one more idiotic thing matter?
It didn’t. Besides, his curiosity was too keen to keep him away. Luckily, Riley’s studio had an enormous front window, so he’d be able to see what kind of lessons Rosie was taking without her knowing he spied.
He could only imagine what she’d think if she knew. The silly goose already thought herself in love with him. If she thought, even for a second, that he returned that overly valued emotion...
Ethan grunted, but deep inside himself something warm had started stirring the moment she’d said those four little taunting words. Let me love you.
He knew it was only lust. And no wonder with the way she’d been coming on to him. An ordinary woman he could have withstood, but Rosie...he hadn’t wanted to chance it.
Nearly panicked, he’d sent her on her way with the explanation that he loved her, too—as a friend, and only a friend.
He’d looked her right in her beautiful blue eyes and lied through his teeth, telling her he didn’t want her sexually, that he saw her as asexual, like a pal. Totally sexless. No sex thoughts involved at all. Sex, no. Friends, yes.
Rosie was not stupid.
She’d sighed, patted his chest in a curiously tender way and told him she’d give him a little time to get used to the idea.
He had a week.
Then she’d dressed and left and he still didn’t know what the hell had happened last night in his bed. He’d be deranged with curiosity in a week. He had to find out something soon.
The sun was bright, baking down on his head and back. July had started on a heat wave that showed no signs of relenting. Shimmering hot waves rose from the blacktop parking lot. Ethan wore his aviator-style mirrored sunglasses, but still he had to hold a hand up to shield his eyes when he reached Riley’s.
There were few people out on this sweltering afternoon, so he stood alone on the sidewalk with only the occasional passerby. Still, he maintained a casual air of indifference so he wouldn’t look suspicious. The second he peeked inside, he spotted Riley rolling around in the middle of the mat with someone. It took Ethan less than three seconds to realize the person in the baggy T-shirt, snug shorts, sneakers and headgear was Rosie.
Calm control took a flying leap.
In three long strides Ethan had the door open and had advanced halfway across the gym. He ripped off his sunglasses to better see their shameful behavior. “What in the hell are you doing?” The rafters trembled with his bellow.
Riley, his head stuck between Rosie’s thighs, looked up in surprise. His voice was a bit strangled, due to the way she had her legs clenched tight around his neck, when he said, “It’s called the North South Position.”
He grunted, did a quick flip and ended up on top with Rosie peering at Ethan, her face red with exertion, her head now between Riley’s thighs.
Ethan gawked and fought the urge to bodily separate them. “That’s...that’s obscene.”
Rosie tried to buck Riley off—and that only made matters worse from Ethan’s perspective. His vision started to blur.
“I’m learning...leg...chokes,” Rosie managed to gasp around her panting breaths. To Ethan, it appeared her eyes were starting to water.
He was more than ready to inter
vene when they rolled again and Ethan had to jump to keep from getting caught in the fast-churning tangle of arms and legs. When they stopped, Rosie was on top and she had Riley’s arm caught in an awkward position, using her whole body to keep a steady pressure on it. Riley, around his strained laughter, cried uncle.
Rosie jumped up, punched a fist in the air like a world conqueror, and gave a ferocious battle cry. “Ha! Gotcha with a chicken wing.”
Riley stood, too, grinning from ear to ear, but he shook his head at her. “You hadn’t sunk it good enough. I could have gotten loose if Ethan hadn’t been standing here breathing fire.”
Rosie gasped in high indignation. “That’s just like a man to claim he lost to a woman only because of another man.”
Riley slipped his arm around her. “We’ll keep working on it.” He winked at Ethan.
At that particular moment Rosie wasn’t the least attractive. Her hair stuck out in crazy clumps around the headgear, some long tangled tendrils loose, some looped in and around the straps. Her face was flushed and there was sweat on her forehead and upper lip. The wrinkled, sweat-dampened clothes she wore couldn’t have been less appealing.
And Ethan wanted to throw her over his shoulder, smack her behind soundly, and remind her in no uncertain terms that she’d not only professed her love, but she’d given him a week to get used to it.
Instead, trying to hide his disgruntlement, he said to both of them, “If anyone taped your lessons, they could sell them for porn videos.”
Cocking one shapely hip and giving him a siren’s come-and-get-it smile, Rosie quipped, “Gee, honey, ya really think so?”
The pose should have been ludicrous given her present appearance. Instead, Ethan choked on a surge of lust.
Laughing, Rosie turned and sashayed her way out of the gym, heading for the showers. “Be right back.”
The second she disappeared from sight, Riley dropped against the wall and grabbed his shoulder with a loud groan. “Man, she about tore my rotator cuff. She’s good.”
Ethan stared at him. His eyes narrowed the tiniest bit.
Doing a double take, Riley asked, “What?”
Ethan stared some more, no civil words coming to his mind or mouth.
“Oh, come on, Ethan.” Riley pushed his sweaty hair back and grunted. “I’m teaching her to defend herself with legitimate defensive and offensive moves. As a real estate agent, you know she finds herself with male clients in empty houses a lot.”
“Well, I hope if a guy attacks her, she doesn’t stick her face in his crotch. I seriously doubt that’ll deter him.”
Riley tried and failed to stifle his laugh. “She’s learning different ways to utilize the chicken wing—and as I said, she’s getting good at that. She’s also learning some good leg chokes. Usually, a woman who is attacked finds herself on her back with the assailant on top. I’m teaching her how to get out of that hold.”
It made sense. God knew, Ethan wanted her safe, but still...
“I’m also teaching her the Guard, the High Crotch Series and some Silat knife moves.”
“What’s the...never mind. I don’t want to know.” By silent agreement they moved off the mats and to a bench lining one wall. Ethan plopped down, stretched out his legs, dropped his head back against the cool wall and sighed. “Damn, I’m beat.”
Totally deadpan, Riley asked, “Long night?”
But Ethan was actually glad that he’d brought up the subject. Slowly, he swiveled his head toward Riley and opened his eyes. “Did Rosie tell you anything?”
“She’s not one to kiss and tell.”
“I didn’t kiss her.”
“No? Well, whatever you did, she wouldn’t be talking about it. I’ve never once heard her mention a date or what she might have done on a date, have you?” Rather than wait for a reply, Riley continued. “And you know, now that I’m thinking about it, that’s strange, huh?”
Ethan knew he’d rather walk into another burning building than think about Rosie with other men. It never failed to set him on edge. “We didn’t have a damn date, and I didn’t kiss her.”
Rosie reappeared, and Ethan thought she had to have taken the fastest shower in history. Then he realized she hadn’t changed, had only removed the headgear and combed her hair.
She was still sweaty.
“You,” she said, pointing at Ethan, “don’t know what you did.”
He snared her gaze with his own and wouldn’t let her look away. “So tell me, Rosie. Did I kiss you?”
Her cheeks turned pink and she shrugged. “Maybe I don’t remember, either.”
Ethan slowly stood to approach her. “Oh, if I’d kissed you, Rosie, believe me, you’d remember.”
She squared off, facing him like a prizefighter with her hands on her hips, legs braced. “Yeah? And why’s that?”
He jutted his chin forward to match her stance. “Because I’m a damn good kisser.”
“Maybe.”
“It’s true.” He reached back to nudge Riley with a fist. “Ask Riley, he knows.”
Riley almost fell off the bench. “What are you talking about?” His voice rose to a shout when Riley almost never shouted. “I sure as hell haven’t kissed you!”
“Excuse me?”
They all turned toward the front door, and there stood the redhead from the night before. Her glorious hair—Ethan did love the color—was piled on top of her head in loose, very feminine disarray. She wore a pale green, knee-length skirt with a crisp white blouse and very high heels. An enormous satchel was hooked over her arm.
Great, Ethan thought, just great. He needed this like he needed a four-alarm fire.
Much provoked, Riley stood and immediately shouted, “I have never kissed Ethan, swear to God.”
Rosie moved with the speed of light to position herself in front of Ethan.
Ethan started to laugh. He couldn’t help himself. He was still a little hungover, still very confused by Rosie’s recent offer, and horny as hell to boot. Could his life get more muddled?
“It’s true,” he confirmed. “Riley is as macho as they come. Hell, he’s so macho he has hair on the soles of his feet.”
“I do not.” Riley turned to glare at him. “And don’t help me, all right?”
Biting back his smile, Ethan said, “By the way, Riley, I was talking about those twins who wanted to double date, remember? The one told you I was a great kisser and she wanted to test you out to see who was better?”
Riley’s frown lifted, a smile started and he said, “Oh, yeah.”
The redhead looked beyond confused, on the verge of bolting. Her apparent nervousness kept her shifting her feet and twisting her hands. “Are you open?”
Obviously dismissing Ethan and his memories of the twins, Riley looked her over, crossed his arms and said, “I could be.”
Clutching her satchel, Red said, “I need to learn some self-defense.”
Riley cocked a brow at that, Rosie scowled and Ethan felt mired in guilt. “Good God, I didn’t assault you, did I?” He never should have gotten drunk. He never should have...
“No, of course not.” Her green-eyed gaze darted to Rosie, to Ethan and back to Riley. Her slim brows puckered in a suspicious frown. “Am I interrupting?”
“We were just about to leave.” Rosie took Ethan’s arm and tried to drag him behind her.
He planted his feet and refused to budge. “If I bothered you last night, I am sorry. I don’t usually drink like that.”
Red’s smile was distracted when she forced herself to look away from Riley. “You were fine,” she assured him. “Mostly you just talked about a woman.”
Ethan groaned. He felt moronic enough already, but, God, if he’d been waxing poetic about Michelle, he’d have to leave town.
Rosie elbowed hi
m hard to show her displeasure. He grunted, caught her lethal pointy little elbow so she couldn’t inflict more damage to his ribs and said to Red, “Again, I’m very sorry. You should have shoved me under a table or something.”
“I didn’t mind.” Red’s expression softened. A small smile teased her mouth. “Actually, I thought it was rather sweet that you’re so obviously in love with her.”
Ethan stiffened, embarrassed and outraged. “I am not in love with Michelle.”
“Michelle?” Red frowned and again looked around at each person in the room before settling back on Ethan. “But...I thought her name was Rosie?”
CHAPTER THREE
ROSIE DID HER BEST to hide her grin as she turned off the Crock-Pot and dished up heaping bowls of thick stew. She’d gotten home half an hour ago, quickly showered, then changed into cutoffs and a T-shirt. She’d barely finished before they’d arrived.
All of them.
She sneaked a peek at Ethan and felt her heart patter in excitement. He sat at her small round dinner table, behaving like a surly badger, but at least he’d shown up.
He hadn’t wanted to. He’d even refused—until Riley suggested to Rosie that they could do a little more practice after they’d eaten. Ethan had immediately changed his mind about dinner, and Rosie was starting to hope that jealousy motivated him.
Just as she finished serving the stew, the bread machine dinged and she carefully removed the hot loaf to a cutting board. The men were all sniffing the air impatiently. Harris even smacked his lips together, making her laugh.
“Ethan, will you pour everyone something to drink? And get the butter out of the refrigerator.”
He grumbled an incoherent reply, then fetched a tea pitcher and began filling glasses.
Riley took a long drink and said, “Did you know that Red is a reporter? She was there last night to do a story on Ethan.”
