Rollo’s kind blue eyes held hers. “I’m sure there’s an explanation. Finn’s a solid guy. Don’t write him off.”
She shrugged and turned away, back to her ancient Mercedes.
Just then, a silver SUV whipped around the curve of Rollo’s driveway and screeched to a halt next to her car. The driver’s side door flew open and Finn jumped out. With a thick growth of black stubble and bleary eyes, he looked as if he’d driven all night, or maybe just come off a bender. That was bad enough, but the fact that he still looked so good that her mouth watered—that was a problem.
“Lisa, you’re here. Sorry I’m late,” he said in a rush as he came toward her.
“It’s no problem.” She sidestepped him and heaved her bag into the backseat of her Mercedes. “Maybe another time.”
“You aren’t leaving, are you? We have an appointment.”
“Which you missed.”
“I only missed five minutes of it.” He dug out his phone and checked the time. “I took the redeye to make sure I got here on time. Then I broke every speed limit between here and the airport.”
She eyed him warily. “Why didn’t you text me?”
“Maybe because you refuse to give me your number.” He reached past her, dragged her bag out and slung it over his shoulder. “Come on, my gorgeous medical professional. I need you. A night without sleep in an airplane is definitely not what the doctor ordered.”
She felt herself soften. He was just so irresistible with that puppy-dog look in his eyes. And he was playing on her soft spot—she couldn’t turn her back on someone who needed her. “Fine. On one condition. You tell me where you went and what you were doing.”
If he was attending a red-carpet premiere with a supermodel, she wanted to know. If he was on a date with Annika, she wanted to know. Sure, it wasn’t the kind of information a medical professional would ask for. But this was Finn, and he was getting under her skin, and she had to put a stop to it.
A shadow crossed his face, but he shook it off. “All right. Your wish is my command.” He took her hand and led her toward a cozy little building with black shutters at the other end of the lawn. “But it might take a while. And I need breakfast first.”
Inside his little guesthouse, he downed a big glass of water and got some coffee going in a glass French press. The guesthouse was pure flowery Laura Ashley, as if someone’s grandmother had decorated it, which was such a contrast to Finn’s dark and masculine good looks it was almost comical. She settled into an armchair.
He handed her a mug of steaming-hot coffee, then lowered himself onto the couch, stretching out his legs with a long sigh.
She turned the mug in her hands and laughed. It showed a picture of a bare-chested fireman with the words “Let Me Heat That Up for You” printed on it.
“Cute mug.” She gazed closer at the fireman. “He even kind of looks like you.”
“He is me. One of my dad’s girlfriends made it for me. She felt bad that my dad hated my career choice so much.”
“Why did he hate it? Most people admire firefighters.”
His smile dropped. “Long story. You know, I’ve been drawn to fire as long as I can remember. My father wanted me to be an actor or a producer or a screenwriter—anything in the movies. But I wasn’t interested. I never liked Hollywood. My whole life, I wanted to be a firefighter. Fire was the most compelling thing in the world to me. And I never knew why until the burnover in Big Canyon. Something happened then. No one knows about it except Rollo. But I know I can trust you. Doctor-patient confidentiality, right?”
She stared at him in surprise. “You could trust me anyway. I’m pretty good with secrets, although I’m terrible at lies.”
He laughed and dug the heel of his hand into his forehead. She fought the urge to offer him a neck rub.
“I blacked out during that fire, when we were supposed to deploy our tents. I had a…well, I guess it was a flashback. Like a buried memory.”
He told her the whole story, from the wildfire to his flashback, to his father’s stonewalling, to his trip to Rhode Island to find a fireman from twenty-five years ago. It was like listening to the plot of a movie, except with all the real emotion Finn poured into it.
“Did you find the fireman?” she asked when he reached the end.
“I did. Joe Pike. He kind of squinted at me and said, ‘well, maybe, couldn’t say for sure.’ But when I went to the neighborhood where the house was located, an old lady walking her Pomeranian thought she recognized me. Of course, she also thought I was the prince of Spain, so that could mean anything.”
God, that grin. She wished it came with a remote control so she could turn it down. Last night, she’d lain in bed under her starry fabric sky, thinking about Finn. That killer smile. The wicked gleam that chased away the sadness in his eyes. His amazing physique. And more—his vulnerability. His determination. She liked that. A lot. It made her think he could be trusted. Finn might be funny and loose and charming, but underneath all that, she sensed a core of real strength.
She shook herself back to reality. “So you’re back to square one.”
“Yup.” He blew on his coffee to cool it. “But my investigator is on the job. I’ll get there. I’m persistent. But you probably know that about me.”
And…there came that smile again. Her pulse fluttered and jumped. For some reason, his story made him even more appealing. Maybe because she too had always felt out of place in her own family.
“You know what I’ve been wondering?”
“What’s that?”
“Well, you definitely are persistent. You’ve been asking me out practically ever since you met me. Why me?”
He squinted at her. “Seems pretty obvious to me. Why do you think?”
“I suppose because I seem like some kind of challenge since I turned you down the first time. Maybe you’re not used to rejection.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “You saw me get rejected at the wedding. By Annika.”
“Yes, but, that was…that was Annika. And that’s now. What about before? From what I hear, you’ve dated half the models in Hollywood.”
The expression on his face made her shift uncomfortably. She hadn’t meant to insult him. He tossed back a shot of coffee. “Don’t believe everything you hear. Yeah, I liked to party back then. Anything to get out of the house. Depending on who my dad was dating, it was either a war zone or the loneliest place in LA. So yup. I partied. What about you?”
“Nope. I studied.” She flashed a smile at him. “But I do know what you mean. My parents divorced when I was seven. Both of them remarried. I ping-ponged back and forth and it sucked. My mother divorced again, then again. She’s on her fourth husband now. I acquired a few stepsisters and ex-stepsisters along the way. I know the whole war-zone feeling. And the lonely feeling.”
Under his sympathetic gaze, she felt a wave of heat travel slowly up her face, from her neck to her hairline. Oh no, not The Blush. She hated when her emotions wrote themselves across her skin in living color. A mortifying shade of red, no doubt.
“You’re blushing. That’s…fascinating.”
If anything, the heat in her face got more intense. “Why? It’s a perfectly normal physiological process.”
“Because you’re supposed to be Nurse Badass. Nurse Badass, blushing?”
God, should she open a window or something? Maybe pour water over her head? “You don’t have a freezer by chance, do you? If I could just stick my head in it for a moment, that would be great.”
He laughed, teeth flashing against his stubbled jaw. “Believe me, it’s adorable. I could watch you blush all day.”
She closed her eyes and pressed her hands against her cheeks to cool them down. So much for being a medical professional. Jesus.
When she opened her eyes again, his expression was all business. “This is my fault, anyway. I didn’t intend to hijack my appointment with all this personal stuff. We should probably get to it, but if you want to reschedule, I’ll unders
tand.”
“No, no. I’m here. Willing and able.” She seized onto his change of topic with a massive sense of relief, as if they’d stepped back from the edge of a cliff. Nursing, she could handle. “When my grandfather had his flan accident and got burned, he didn’t trust the doctors to work on him. I took a course on burn-specific massage techniques. They worked really well for him and I imagine they would for you too. I suggest we start slow because it can be somewhat painful.”
“That’s nothing new,” he muttered. “Isn’t all PT painful? Bring it on, Nurse Badass. Where and how should we do this?”
“Well, I brought a yoga mat. You can lie on that, in whatever way feels most comfortable. We’ll just clear a space next to you.”
“I got that part.” He stood up and lifted the coffee table out of the way, plopping it in a corner of the room. She spread out the yoga mat in the center of the living room, making sure there was plenty of room to move around it, then sat on her heels next to it.
He came back to stand near her. She glanced up, surprised to see him hesitate, a vulnerable expression crossing his face. “Shirt on or off?”
Ah, of course. He felt uncomfortable showing her the full extent of his scarring. She’d just have to be extra professional to put him at ease. It would be a lot easier in a more official medical setting, and without the sexual awareness that hung between them. But she could do it.
“Shirt off. Take everything off except your underwear. It’s best if I get a complete picture of what we’re dealing with.”
He nodded once, his expression darkening. She saw his Adam’s apple move up and down as he swallowed. “It’s not a pretty sight, I should warn you.”
“Believe me, I’ve seen it all. You don’t have to worry.”
After just a little more hesitation, he put his hands to the lower edge of his black t-shirt and lifted it over his head.
And she realized how wrong she was.
11
Dead wrong. She did have to worry, not because of his scars but because of the rest of his spectacular torso. He looked as if he’d been chiseled by a master sculptor who had lost patience and flung handfuls of clay over one half of his work. Muscles rippled and flexed as he draped his t-shirt across the back of his chair.
What had she been thinking? This was lunacy. No way could she put her hands on this man and not lose her carefully achieved cool.
“It’s bad, huh?” His face was turned away from her as he spoke in a low voice. “If you want to back out, I understand.”
Yes, she wanted to back out. Because a certain sensation was vaulting through her lower belly right now. Want. Desire. Sexual desire. Crap. Crap crap crap. She cleared her throat.
“Of course not. It’s not so bad. I’ve definitely seen worse.” She focused on his scarring. It covered the left side of his rib cage, all the way down to his hip. It was probably tough for him to twist and bend. She was amazed that he’d climbed onto a roof and stayed in a hunched position for so long. He must have impressive pain tolerance, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Healing took time, and patients with no patience could set back their recovery by months. “I’m going to ask the classic pain question. One to ten, with ten being the worst, where is it right now?”
“About a three. Pretty good, considering I’ve been on an airplane.”
“What other activities aggravate it?”
“Exercise in general can be challenging. Running is fine unless I trip and have to twist or something. Swimming isn’t too bad. It’s more of a controlled environment.” He put his hands to the fastening of his jeans and her mouth went dry again.
Oops, she’d told him to take his pants off too. She shouldn’t have done that. Seriously, she wasn’t made of stone here! She opened her mouth to rescind that part of the request, but nothing came out. That was because he was in the midst of revealing the most muscular thighs she’d ever witnessed up close. Every inch of his physique was fit and honed and bronzed. Under his jeans, he wore a pair of black boxer briefs that were filled in a snug way that had her turning red again.
She averted her gaze before it became too obvious that she was staring. As she took out the salves she worked with, she kept taking little peeks from the corners of her eyes. Almost as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Were his abs really that ripped? Were his shoulders actually that wide and solid? He wasn’t overly buff, not like someone who spent a lot of time pumping iron or juicing up on steroids. He was just…perfect. His long torso was a graceful V, his waist narrowing from those wide shoulders into slim hips. Not one particle of flab appeared anywhere on his body. He was all lean, sleek perfection. And his legs looked so insanely strong, as if he could run up the side of a mountain without blinking.
Which he probably could.
She wondered why the scars didn’t detract from his appeal, at least to her. She remembered Annika’s description of his “deformity.” How could she see someone like Finn, a brave, injured, gorgeous fireman, as deformed just because of some damaged skin?
She must have been muttering something about that, because Finn said, “What was that?”
“Oh nothing, I was just thinking bad things about Annika.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “What, that she’d walk away from all this?” He struck a muscle-man pose. “Nah. It was all an act anyway. Maybe you didn’t pick up on that part.”
“What do you mean, an act?”
“To promote the movie. You know, injured firefighter, angelic actress. I went along with it because she was a sweetheart to me after the burnover. Another act, though I didn’t know it.” He rubbed the dark stubble on his jaw. “The tabloids loved it. Not that you would know about that, because you probably never read that trash.”
And…there went The Blush heating her face again. If he only knew how many times she’d read that article about him and Annika. She still hadn’t returned it to the Moon Glow, as a matter of fact. She made a mental note to do that immediately. Well, as soon as she read it one more time, with this new knowledge.
Finn had never been with Annika at all? Wow. That changed things. She wasn’t sure how, but it did.
Lisa made herself stop ogling his body and switch into Nurse Badass mode. “It’s none of my business anyway. You don’t have to explain anything to your massage therapist.”
“Right.” He smiled wryly. “I forgot for a minute and thought I was just standing here in my underwear for the hell of it.”
She smiled at him. “Come on, let’s get going before you freeze. Please lie down in whatever position feels best to you.”
He whooshed out a deep breath then lowered himself onto his knees on the mat. Gingerly, he stretched out on his side, with the burned area facing her. He dragged a pillow under his head and shifted around until he found a position that worked. Instead of watching his body, she kept her gaze on his face, noticing every wince and twitch of pain.
When he was still, she scooped a dollop of cream into her hand. For her grandfather, she’d developed a mixture of Vitamin E oil, Calendula, aloe vera, and lavender to keep the scars soft and moist.
“One great thing about massage is that the pressure helps take away that itchy feeling. Have you had much of that?”
“Oh yeah.”
Starting at the outer edge of the scarred area, she gently stretched the scar tissue with small, steady movements. He didn’t react beyond tightening his jaw and closing his eyes.
“When I did this with my grandfather, he used to curse at me in Spanish. That’s how I knew how much pressure to use. If he started in on anything related to ‘porco,’ or ‘dios,’ I had to ease back.”
He grunted, his right eyelid twitching. “I’m not going to curse. I’m a big strong mother-effing fireman who doesn’t curse. Not fucking ever.”
She laughed. It was truly amazing how easily he made her laugh. “I know it hurts. It’s okay, you can just let it out.”
“That’s okay. I’m still trying to impress you. Can’t you te
ll? Why else would I show off my scars? I’m being sarcastic, by the way. And I’m trying to distract myself from your…mother of God!” He moaned. “I’m pretty sure this is banned by the Geneva Convention. Or it ought to be.”
There went one of her grandfather’s telltale words. “I’ll lighten up.”
“Fuck no. If your grandfather could take it, I can. Big strong tough fireman here.”
She shifted to the area along his laterals, trying desperately not to focus on the bronzed washboard abs just inches from her fingers. “Haven’t you heard the news, Finn? This is the twenty-first century, it’s okay for men to show their vulnerability. You don’t always have to be the Mighty Finn.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m winning the gold medal in showing my vulnerability right now. I look like raw hamburger. Come on, help me out here. Distract me. Tell me something good.”
“Something good?” She applied more oil to her hands and smoothed her fingers down his side. Touching someone, even in a medical capacity, always created a connection. This was what she loved—tending to people, taking care of them. In the months since leaving Houston, she’d missed it. First Molly, now Finn—it felt good, like getting her life back.
“I can recite a delicious recipe for flan. That’s good.”
“Do it. I beg you.”
She rattled off the instructions for her grandmother’s specialty.
“God, that sounds incredible. Someday maybe you’ll invite me over for flan.” His jaw clenched as she stretched an especially tender spot.
She laughed. “I don’t date patients, I told you.”
“It’s not a date, it’s flan. How many times have you eaten flan in your life?”
“I’m part-Cuban, so probably hundreds.” Her gaze slid across his broad shoulders to the dark hair curling over his ears. She wanted to run her hands through it, but kept them where they belonged.
“Were all those flan-eating occasions dates?”
Setting Off Sparks (Jupiter Point Book 4) Page 7
