Mitch climbed down the concrete steps, working his way toward her. Gwen’s eyes brightened with recognition as he approached. She was a hugger, so he steeled himself for the inevitable. As she wrapped her arms around him, her breasts touched his chest and he felt something stir inside him.
Okay, it wasn’t exactly inside him. It was outside.
It was his penis.
He’d had a similar reaction to her a year or two ago. She’d gotten stung by a jellyfish at the beach and he’d carried her to the lifeguard station for first aid. Her wet, sandy body had been plastered against his bare chest. She was almost as heavy as Helena, which had surprised him. He’d looked down at her petite form, wondering where she kept the weight. Then he’d readjusted his grip, and her bikini top had shifted, exposing the edge of one brown nipple. He’d gotten an eyeful and almost dropped her.
Mitch pushed that mental image back into the spank bank where it belonged and released her in a hurry, feeling guilty. Gwen was Helena’s best friend. They were in an evacuation center, surrounded by suffering. This was no time for an inappropriate erection.
On the other hand, his body’s natural response to her was sort of life-affirming. He’d struggled to find work last year, and his libido had flagged. He’d hated being on unemployment, doing nothing. One night in the middle of sex with Helena, he’d lost his erection. Just lost it. Worse, Helena had been unable to rouse him.
The experience had been humiliating.
He’d shied away from her for months after that. He’d been afraid to fail again. When he got the job offer in Denver, however, his spirits had risen. So had his dick. He’d rallied good and hard before he left, his manhood revived.
It occurred to Mitch that Helena might have told Gwen about his performance issues. They were best friends, after all. He grimaced at the thought.
“You got here fast,” Gwen said.
“I drove all night.”
“I meant from Mission Trails.”
He wiped his sweaty forehead, self-conscious. “I ran.”
“You must run six minute miles.”
“More like seven or eight.”
She studied him for a moment, as if she couldn’t quite believe he was real. Her gaze wandered over his damp work shirt and khakis, incongruent with his running shoes. Then she glanced away, her chin quivering. “Sorry,” she said in a choked voice. “It’s just really good to see a familiar face.”
Mitch nodded tersely. It was good to see her, too, but he didn’t know how to deal with female tears.
Helena never cried. He liked that about her.
He glanced around for a solution, or an escape route. There was a table set up with a chow line about a hundred feet away. Relief workers were ladling out some kind of food into plastic bowls. “Have you eaten?”
She took a deep breath and shook her head. “I haven’t even sat down.”
He could use a break, too. The long drive and hard trail miles had sapped his energy. He’d just turned thirty-five and he felt every year. His calves burned and his knees ached. “Let’s get you taken care of.”
Fresh tears welled in her eyes and he felt a funny little twist in his chest. Ignoring it, he guided her toward the food line, where they accepted bottled water from an aid worker. They were given a choice between raisin oatmeal and scrambled eggs with red pepper. Gwen chose oatmeal. Mitch had eggs. Although he didn’t want to take food that was meant for survivors, there appeared to be plenty.
They sat down in the bleachers and ate. The meal was lukewarm and bland, but filling. He shoveled eggs into his mouth with a quickness. Gwen finished her oatmeal and drank all of her water, uncharacteristically silent.
“Where were you when it hit?” he asked.
“At home, in bed.”
He tried not to picture that. “Good thing you weren’t at the shop.”
“Yes.”
Her tattoo parlor, Native Ink, was closer to the epicenter. So was the wildlife park where Helena worked. “Do you have any family here?”
“Just some cousins in the LA area,” she said. “My parents are both in Hawaii and my brother’s in Seattle.”
Her brother, Manu Tagaloa, played professional football for the Seattle Thunder. Now this was a topic Mitch could get excited about. He loved football, and her brother was an amazing athlete. “He had a great season.”
She smiled with pride. “I think so.”
“He should have been MVP.”
“Maybe next year.”
“I still can’t believe you two are related.”
A crease formed between her brows. “Why not?”
He gestured to her figure. “Because you’re so…”
“What?”
He wasn’t sure which descriptor to use. Pretty, soft, hot… “Small.”
“I’m not small.”
“Compared to him you are.”
She narrowed her eyes as if he’d given her a backhanded compliment. He hadn’t meant any offense. Her brother was a tight end, muscular and broad-shouldered. Mitch was a big man himself at 6’3 and 200 pounds. Helena was tall and strong for a woman. Gwen was medium-sized, he supposed. Her breasts certainly weren’t small.
Damn. He shouldn’t have said anything.
“How about you?” she asked. “Do you have any family here?”
“No. Not in San Diego.”
She gave him an expectant look, waiting for more.
“I’m from Burbank.”
“Your parents are there?”
“My mom is.”
She didn’t ask where his dad was, and Mitch didn’t offer more information. It was kind of a sore subject. “Are you an only child?”
“I am.”
“I didn’t figure you for a volunteer.”
“I’m not volunteering.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
Breaking the rules, that’s what. The stadium was supposed to be off-limits to everyone but emergency service workers and survivors waiting to be transported. “I’m worried about Helena.”
“You said she was okay.”
“I don’t think she’ll evacuate.”
Gwen knew as well as he did how dedicated Helena was to the animals at the park. She wouldn’t leave them by choice. “They’ll make her leave,” Gwen said. “She’s not in charge. If it’s not safe, she’ll have to evacuate.”
Mitch wasn’t convinced. “I’m going to check on her.”
“You’ll get arrested. There’s a barricade.”
“I’ll wait until nightfall.”
She stared at him like he was crazy. “What will you do when you get there, toss her over your shoulder?”
It was a fair question. Helena wouldn’t take kindly to caveman tactics. He could overpower her, but not easily, and she’d never forgive him for it. “I don’t know what I’ll do. Maybe I can stay and help.”
“You’re not a zookeeper. If you want to help, help here.”
Mitch had already made up his mind; he was going. He had a bad feeling about Helena. Not that she was in danger, necessarily, though she might be. What he knew without a doubt was that their relationship was in danger, and he had to do something to fix it. He had to take drastic action to win her back.
Failure was not an option.
In the meantime, there were many hours before sundown. “You need help?”
“Of course.”
“I’m not good with people.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, not arguing this point. “Your strong back will more than make up for your lack of warmth.”
She made him sound like a service ox. “Do I have to hold hands with anyone?”
“Not if you can do the heavy lifting, tough guy.”
“Okay,” he said, amiable. “It’s a deal.”
CHAPTER THREE
MITCH STONE SURPRISED her.
Gwen had known him for six years but she’d never really seen past the rock-hard surface. He didn’t make any attempt to be funny or cool, lik
e most guys. He was the strong, silent type to an extreme. He reminded her of a military man, though he worked as a structural engineer. He was rigid and unyielding.
He was also kind of hot.
Although she’d noticed that before, his level of attractiveness hadn’t made much of an impression on her. His broad shoulders and sculpted biceps were pleasant to look at, but he was Helena’s boyfriend, not a sex symbol. He also had a bland personality. She didn’t like him or dislike him. He was just…there.
Mitch treated Helena well enough, and that was all that mattered to Gwen. She didn’t interfere in her friends’ relationships. If Helena wanted to date a brick wall of a man, that was her business. Gwen knew they were having problems, however. Helena hadn’t been happy with Mitch before he left San Diego. Since then, she’d grown even more dissatisfied. Gwen didn’t think they’d last as a couple.
She wasn’t going to tell Mitch that, of course. But she’d sensed the separation, and her feelings toward him had changed.
Suddenly he seemed a lot less boring.
He’d been carrying medical equipment and lifting injured people all day. There was something about a sweaty, hardworking man that pushed her yes-buttons. He was brisk and efficient. Volunteering agreed with him. Although he didn’t have the best bedside manner, he wasn’t rude or unkind. She got the impression that he enjoyed strenuous activity and was glad to offer his assistance. He liked staying busy.
As he set down a large box of medical supplies, his damp shirt stretched across his back, drawing her attention.
Mercy.
She’d seen a lot of impressive physiques at Native Ink. San Diego was full of hot men, and she’d tattooed some gorgeous bodies. So why was she panting over Mitch Stone? He had a nice canvas, but she wasn’t going to work on it.
Her reaction to him felt strange and wrong. Maybe it was her mind’s way of taking the focus off the devastation all around them. She couldn’t deal with so much death and suffering. His well-developed muscles were a convenient distraction.
She remained active throughout the day, handing out bandages and cleaning minor wounds. There were more injuries than the medical professionals could keep up with. Survivors continued to arrive in large, weary groups. They needed food and water and rest. Busses were overloaded and rescue workers were overwhelmed.
And this was only the tip of the iceberg.
The real disaster area was miles away, at the epicenter. Gwen had heard about massive fires and collapsed buildings. She imagined people stuck in the rubble, bodies burning. There were bridges and freeways down.
When she finally got a break, it was early evening. Mitch finished bringing in a load of supplies and joined her at station 12. Dinner had been served an hour ago. There was still a food line, but it was short. Stomach rumbling, she shuffled through the line with Mitch. They accepted cold sandwiches and lukewarm sodas.
She sat down next to him and devoured her sandwich, along with a small bag of chips. The sugary soda gave her a much-needed energy boost. She hadn’t slept at all last night and she didn’t think she’d fare any better tonight.
She glanced at Mitch, wondering if he planned to lie down. There were hundreds of tents and cots sets up on the field, but she didn’t think there was space available. People were sleeping in the stands, sprawled across seats in the bleachers. She longed to rest, too. She wanted to close her eyes and feel strong arms around her.
She might be able to leave tomorrow, after fresh volunteers arrived. There weren’t enough busses for everyone and those with serious injuries were being transported first. Able-bodied residents had the option to stay here at the stadium or continue walking to the next rescue center, ten miles away.
“What are you going to do tonight?” she asked.
He just shrugged, looking across the crowded area. He had close-cropped brown hair, thinning on top, and intelligent blue eyes. A square jaw, covered in stubble. It wasn’t the kind of face that women swooned over, but she liked his features. His disheveled appearance and bloodshot eyes tugged at her heartstrings. She felt a stab of guilt for checking him out.
He was here for Helena. Her best friend, Helena.
“Have you heard anything?” she asked.
“No. You?”
Gwen shook her head. Her cell wasn’t working. “She might be on her way here.”
“She might be.”
By the way he avoided her gaze, Gwen assumed that he was planning to sneak past the barricade and go on a foolhardy rescue mission. He probably couldn’t be talked out of it. “Do you really think she’s in danger?”
“I don’t know.”
She waited for him to elaborate.
“I have to do something.”
“Why?”
“I shouldn’t have left.”
Gwen softened with sympathy. “You couldn’t have prevented the earthquake.”
“Maybe not, but I can turn things around. I can make it right.”
She gave him a doubtful look.
His eyes narrowed. “What did she tell you?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on.”
“I have to follow girl code. You should ask her how she feels, not me.”
“Girl code,” he muttered, his mouth twisting. “Is she seeing someone else?”
Gwen was shocked by the question. “Are you?”
“Fuck no.”
She believed him. “Helena’s not either.”
He shook his head in frustration. “What should I do?”
Gwen couldn’t offer any advice because there was no solution to this problem. Helena wouldn’t leave her job for Mitch. In Gwen’s opinion, Helena wasn’t in love with him anymore. She just couldn’t bring herself to admit it.
“I might be able to move back,” he said.
“Really?”
“My boss is considering an expansion site in Southern California. I wasn’t going to tell Helena until I knew for sure.”
This was his only hope for salvaging their relationship. Gwen finished her soda, contemplative.
“You think it’s too late?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Why did you ask if I was cheating?”
“No reason.”
“There’s a reason.”
“It’s just that cheaters tend to suspect others of cheating,” she said, waving a hand. “They assume everyone does it.”
“You mean Brian?”
Her ex. Gwen was still bitter about him, and it had been three years since their breakup. “He used to accuse me, yeah.”
“That guy was a fucking asshole.”
“Yes.”
“You should’ve let me beat him up.”
“Probably,” she said with a tired smile. “I appreciated the offer.”
“Anytime,” he replied, smiling back at her.
The sight made her heart thump hard in her chest. She’d forgotten that he’d offered to knock Brian’s block off after Gwen caught him with another woman. Mitch wasn’t the brawling type, but he clearly had protective instincts. He looked like he could handle himself in a fight. Her gaze dropped from his boyish grin to his strong forearms. Nothing boyish about those. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his pale blue shirt, exposing sinewy muscles and thick wrists. Veins stood out on the backs of his hands.
She glanced away, flushing. What was wrong with her? She had to get a grip and stop staring at him like this.
“You should get some rest,” he said.
“So should you. I’m not the one who’s been acting like He-Man all day.”
He sputtered in surprise. “You asked me to help.”
She realized that she sounded ridiculous. She’d practically called him a show-off. “Sorry. You did a good job.”
“Too good?”
Now he was teasing her. “Don’t get a fat head, Mitch.”
His eyes darkened as if she’d said something suggestive. Then he rose from the aluminum bench, moistening his lips. “I have to go.”
<
br /> She didn’t argue, although she had a bad feeling about his plan. There might be looters and gang members roaming the streets. It wasn’t safe for him to travel alone at night though an area that looked like a warzone.
She also questioned his motives. Mitch seemed to think that Helena needed him, and maybe she did. But Helena was no delicate flower, and he seemed driven by insecurity, rather than concern for her welfare.
“I’ll be okay,” Mitch said.
“Text me if you can.”
He nodded curtly. She walked with him to the edge of the station. Although she tried to hide them, her stupid emotions got the better of her again. She didn’t want him to leave—he was the only person she knew here. Tears of exhaustion and defeat filled her eyes. He leaned in to kiss her cheek, tucking a wild strand of hair behind her ear. Then he turned and strode away, leaving her in a crowd of strangers.
***
MITCH DIDN’T KNOW what the fuck he was doing.
Kissing Gwen on the cheek? He didn’t even kiss Helena on the cheek.
Maybe that was the problem. He’d never been romantic. He wasn’t demonstrative. He kept his emotions close to the vest, where he could guard them. Public displays of affection and overblown gestures weren’t his style. So why was he riding to Helena’s rescue like a white knight?
He didn’t feel brave. He felt desperate, as if he was running away from something. Escaping a dangerous situation, rather than taking control.
He shook off the discomfort in annoyance as he walked across the huge parking lot. Leaving Gwen didn’t sit well with him, but staying with her tonight wasn’t an option. He’d been having strange thoughts about her. Strange, dirty thoughts. It was probably just a symptom of his strained relationship with Helena.
He’d noticed Gwen’s face and figure before. He wasn’t the type of guy who drooled over his girlfriend’s friends, but admiring a pretty woman wasn’t a crime. She had a great smile, smooth skin, glossy black hair. Men stared at her wherever she went. He’d seen their eyes following her. They looked at Helena, too.
Men noticed beautiful women. It was normal.
Gwen seemed extra tempting right now because he didn’t have a history with her. There was no baggage between them, no embarrassing failures. He’d always had a strong sexual appetite, barring the rough patch he’d hit last year. Now his dick wanted to get back in action. He also hadn’t touched a woman in months, and he was lonely. He had to get away from Gwen before he did something he regretted.
Wild for Him Page 2
