Forbidden Fire

by Jan Irving

  Her heart was thudding in her ears.

  He ran a finger down her cheek and she jumped. His eyes narrowed, as if he thought she’d flinched. “But I get to call it, Sian. How I want you, when I want you. And you will want it, every bit of me.”

  I already want you. Can’t you see that?

  “One thing.” She had some pride. “I am not afraid of you moving out because of desertion anxieties.”

  Luke considered her coolly and again she felt this huge yawning change in their dynamic. Now he looked at her like a poker player, wondering if he should fold or call. He’d kept this side of himself from her, protected her from it.

  Now it was out with a vengeance.

  “All right. But I’m still going to spend most of my free time with Taz. I’ll just come home for the nights.”

  “How come?” she asked.

  “Because.”

  He wasn’t going to tell her. And it hurt, him shutting her out again.

  He shifted closer, crowding her again. “No more of your dates. I don’t want you going out for elegant suppers, dancing with other guys or going to the fucking opera.”

  “All right.” She decided he needed a zap. “But same goes for you. No…sharing some woman. And you’ll have to take me to the fucking opera.”

  “I’ll take you.” Something vulnerable moved in his gaze. He tried to shrug it off. “I won’t embarrass you.”

  “I know you won’t.”

  Deliberately she held out her bad hand, but he didn’t flinch from shaking it. Of course he didn’t. Luke had never been that shallow.

  They shook and then he pulled his hand from hers before she was ready to let him go. So much left unsaid. But what choice did she have? If he moved out, she’d lose him. And she couldn’t lose him. If giving him her body so he’d stay made her a total pathetic loser, she’d just have to live with it.

  This way at least he wouldn’t leave.

  Chapter Seven

  Taz was giving him a what-the-fuck look when Luke returned to his buddy. Luke had seen Taz give Sian the cold eye and he’d wanted to intervene—the sensitive gentleman, the caring best friend.

  Except that wasn’t who he was anymore. He was turning over a new leaf—total bastard. And the thing was, if that was the only way to have Sian, to stop the torture of lying in his lonely bed alone every night, waiting to hear her come home from seeing some other guy, then he was signing up.

  Luke swallowed around the hurt in his throat. Fine, what he was doing was just another way of saying ‘loser’. But he could live with it because he couldn’t have Sian if he played the nice card, so he was throwing it out of the goddamned deck.

  “I’m going to do a partial crash at your place,” he told Taz. “Come back here nights.”

  “You need to move out,” Taz said, crossing his massive arms. He didn’t even bother to lower his voice as he added, “Away from your own brand of poison ivy.”

  Luke heard Sian’s footsteps, knew she had to have caught Taz’s words, as he’d meant her too.

  Luke shoved Taz against a porch pillar. “Don’t talk about her that way.”

  “She fucks you up.” Taz didn’t give for a moment. He’d never particularly liked women, except maybe that shy little neighbour of his. Taz was loyal as fuck to his friends.

  “Yeah, she does.” Luke caught a glimpse of shadowed eyes. Then the front door slammed. Great. He’d hurt Sian again.

  But it wouldn’t keep him away from her when the sun went down.

  “I need to take care of her.”

  “This is about fucking. This is not about you taking care of her, unless you mean making sure she comes.”

  Trust Taz to lay it out without icing.

  “She hates that I’m her little brother. It disgusts her.”

  “I saw how she looked when I drove up,” Taz said. “She looked hot. You’d messed with her.”

  Luke didn’t deny it.

  “So she may feel dirty for lettin’ you at her, but she likes it. Trust a woman not to be honest about it.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Taz slid free of Luke’s grip. “You asked me to come here and help you haul your shit to my place.”

  Luke rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know. I, ah, I’m sorry I got intense.”

  Taz cocked his head, making no secret of studying Luke. “You think if she knew the real you, she’d want that action?”

  Remembering the innocent shock in Sian’s pewter eyes when he’d talked about his latest threesome, Luke knew Taz was right. Sian wasn’t likely to get on her knees for him and let him play Dom.

  Except she was.

  She’d agreed to his terms, so he could have her how he wanted. If she kept to their bargain—and Sian was honourable to a fault—she’d get on her knees if he ordered her to do it.

  His breath caught. It had taken all his control to pleasure her so coldly without taking her again, but he’d wanted to make his point—that he was in control.

  Luke squeezed his eyes shut.

  Sian brought out the best of him.

  He remembered her teaching him how to make a bed, how to use a fancy Mac computer, how to play tennis and mix drinks.

  The irony was, she also brought out the worst in him.

  Sick, wrong.

  Fine. If she wanted to see them that way.

  Luke told himself he didn’t care.

  * * * *

  Taz glared at his best friend as he drove through the heart of downtown San Diego. Luke had been quiet since their standoff and Taz knew him well enough to know the door was shut and bolted on that convo.

  He growled to himself, hands tightening on the steering wheel. Goddamn Luke.

  Luke had circles under his eyes. He was pale as winter grass. He also looked like he’d dropped a few pounds, which was not a good thing in their dangerous line of work. Not in the middle of summer.

  It was all that bitch Sian’s fault.

  Taz had known Luke had a thing for her the first time he had got Luke drunk. And okay, Taz had had dark motives of his own that night. Luke was hot. And he was lonely. And he was vulnerable.

  Ripe to fall in Taz’s bed.

  Oh, sure, Luke thought he was straight, but Taz had taken a lot of straight guys to bed with the proper persuasion. None of them had left without experiencing mind-blowing pleasure, even if a couple of them had been totally freaked out afterwards.

  But Taz took who he wanted, when he wanted. Like Luke, he was a survivor, though in his case, he hadn’t had it as lucky as Luke. Taz’s mom hadn’t hooked up with a rich guy—the last thing his Monster Dearest had cared about was giving young Taz a better life.

  Taz had been booted out at fifteen when his mother had discovered him in bed with a girl and a guy from his school, but that sure as fuck beat praying on the cold stone floor of the basement until his knees ached and he had trouble getting to his feet.

  So yeah, he’d wanted Luke. Only Luke insisted on going home every night to his Sian, even those rare times Taz had enticed him into a threesome. Taz hadn’t had the opportunity to break Luke in.

  Now Taz cared about him too much to want to bed him. He screwed just about anything that walked, but Luke… Luke had become important to him.

  As he pulled up and looked at his friend he felt another growl rise in his throat.

  Goddamn Sian. Luke was so into her he couldn’t see straight, but she was too good for him.

  If Taz could find a way to help Luke make the break from her, he’d do it. He was already working it out. She had problems with Luke being her little stepbrother? He could work with that.

  Yeah, he’d do anything to protect his best friend from that bitch.

  Luke blinked as Taz cut off the engine. He hadn’t been tracking their progress. He saw Taz was looking out the window and something soft flickered over his face.

  When they got out of the truck, Luke saw Jenny Ann Green was out watering her flowers. She lived in the small cottage
next to Taz.

  Taz remained beside his truck as if rooted there, which was weird. Usually he was Mr Smooth.

  “Hey, Jenny,” Luke said, trying to work up something friendly in his voice. He felt like an empty crater. He opened the back of the SUV and pulled out his heavy gym bag. He was going to spend himself like fallen change in Taz’s big, fully equipped home gym. He needed to work pain out of his pores, sweat and bleed and maybe he’d be able to fucking think.

  “Luke.” The little brunette gave him her warm smile. She was really hot when she smiled, which always perplexed Luke because Taz couldn’t miss how beautiful she was. And yet, he’d never talked about how he’d been with her, how he’d made his move.

  “How’s the gardening going? Do you need help with that?” Luke asked. Her wheelbarrow was heaped with spent flower heads and weeds.

  “No.” Her colour deepened as Taz finally looked in her direction. He nodded, but still no words. “I also weeded Taz’s yard and Zane’s.”

  “Zane?” It was such an unusual name that it couldn’t be a coincidence. The rookie had moved in next to Taz—since when?

  “Yeah, I suggested this was a good place to live and…speaking of Zane…” Taz drawled.

  Zane Newmark the Third crossed the yard towards Jenny, white-blond hair in his eyes. He looked like a beach bum, from his Malibu shorts to the leather cord tied around his neck. Lean and almost delicate in build, Zane was the rook. The fact he’d moonlighted the previous summer as a smoke jumper didn’t cut him slack with the veterans at Station 57. He was an EMT as well as a firefighter, but unlike Taz and Luke, he didn’t have years of experience.

  Hell, Luke figured he and Taz had learnt their medical training the old fashioned way—on the street.

  “Jen, it’s too hot for you to be out here without a hat.”

  And then Luke saw it. The big rook had a hat with a big silk yellow flower on it. He put it on Jenny’s head. Jeez, did the guy have one on hand just in case one of his female neighbours needed to borrow it? Was he for real?

  Taz was watching Jenny laughing up at Zane, and a cold thrill swooped down Luke’s spine. He knew that look. Predatory.

  “What gives with Zane being your neighbour? I never noticed you getting soft on him back at the station house,” Luke muttered.

  “Oh, Zane doesn’t make me soft,” Taz said.

  “Jesus.”

  “Someone’s livin’ in a glass house.”

  “This is up close and personal for you, isn’t it? I mean, Christ. Jenny’s your neighbour and now so is Zane and you frickin’ work with him.”

  Taz ignored Luke’s words. With a meditative look on his face that didn’t fool Luke for a second, he walked over to the other two, knelt beside Jenny and put his hand on her bare upper arm, banding it with his fingers.

  Luke saw Jenny jerk by reflex and then saw her look at Taz and flush. A moment later she relaxed.

  Taz was coaching her. She didn’t know it, was too innocent to have a friggin’ clue, but that hand on her didn’t lie. Taz was preparing her to accept him.

  Fine. Whateverthefuck.

  Luke didn’t have time for the sexual soap opera his best friend jonsed on. He wanted to warn Jenny…hell, warn Zane, but he knew they’d be shocked if he spelt out what was clear as neon.

  “I’m going to use the gym.”

  Taz straightened, giving him an assessing look. “Good idea. You’ve lost weight and you can’t afford to do that.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  Taz’s eyes narrowed, the green suddenly sharp as broken alley glass. “You don’t get to endanger the team.”

  And Luke couldn’t argue with that. It was why he’d decided to start spending more time here. His focus was fucked up from the shit with Sian and he’d been losing pounds for weeks, strung out, on edge.

  The sex with her should have settled something, shouldn’t it? And later tonight he’d go back, have her again. He had hours to think about what he could do to her.

  He winced as he repeated that last sentence in his head.

  What he could do to her.

  So okay, fine. This was never going to be mutual. This was not them in bed together, in a relationship.

  And he was a big loser, because that was exactly what he’d always ached for. Too bad he realised it now when he’d fucked up any chance of having it.

  * * * *

  As Sian placed a pan on the stove, it made a loud clattering sound that almost made her jump.

  “Damn it, woman,” she scolded herself.

  She had the stereo on, Bonnie Raitt singing ‘I can’t make you love me’.

  And wasn’t that the truth.

  As she lit another burner on the gas stove, she wondered just who she was making this fancy dinner for. Normally it would be Luke. Normally he’d be sitting on the marble island across from her, reading a newspaper. If he did the crossword, he’d get her to help him with it. He had a knack for mechanical things, for practical things around the house. He was also an avid reader.

  She’d shared books with him in this kitchen.

  Now the space felt as empty as a deserted cathedral. She’d made lists of supplies she needed for Coffee Dreams, more white chocolate cherry scones, more almond croissants and she needed to get Dharma to remember to put all the grounds in that fancy strainer she’d ordered from France. If the staff remembered to fill it the night before, it produced thick coffee syrup, perfect for making espresso brownies.

  Luke purely loved those brownies, said they gave him a double caffeine shot of coffee and chocolate.

  Luke.

  What this kitchen was missing was Luke.

  How long was he going to stay at his friend Taz’s?

  Would Luke share what had happened between them with Taz?

  Sian flushed, hating that she was still as insecure as she’d been in high school. Her insecurity had led to the worst mistake of her young life, getting in a car with Drake Morris, who was itching to race. They’d gone too fast and then she’d been screaming, her hand burning and Drake… Drake was dead.

  It was Luke who had come to the hospital since his mother and her father were in the Bahamas. Luke who had been there when they’d unwrapped the bandages on the stubs of her amputated fingers.

  God, she’d felt like the Phantom of the Opera with her scars but he’d deliberately taken that ruined hand and put the back of it against his forehead.

  “Thank fuck you’re all right,” he’d whispered. “Jesus, Sian. Jesus!”

  It had been the only thing he’d ever said about the whole fiasco. No ‘you should have known better’, like Mr Henry.

  Yeah, she’d known better. After she’d gone through it.

  As she watched vegetables simmering, she slumped on the kitchen stool. There had to be a way to get back what she and Luke had lost. Sex was the snake in their garden, screwing everything up, but Luke had made it clear he did not want to go back.

  So where did it leave them?

  When the kitchen door swung open, Sian jumped.

  Luke stood in shadows, so she couldn’t read him. His posture gave her the impression he was tired. He dropped the gym bag on the hardwood floor.

  “Aren’t you supposed to say ‘hi honey, I’m home’?” she asked, trying to make a joke.

  His face didn’t change expression so she guessed she’d failed.

  “I didn’t tell you I’d be home for dinner.”

  She shrugged. “I’m used to making enough for both of us.”

  “I hate this distance between us, but it won’t stop me, Sian.”

  Hoo boy. Luke was never one to dance around something. “I know it won’t.” Not her Luke.

  “When you were in the car accident, you could have died. The firefighters got you out, saved your life.”

  She nodded.

  “And I knew I wanted to be one of them, because they saved my family.”

  Her. She was Luke’s family.

  Tears came. She swallowed, trying not to break
down.

  “You really think it’s wrong that we’re together?”

  She had to suck in a deep breath. What she wanted was to be in his arms, not have him standing across the kitchen from her. “I think it’s wrong that I want you,” she said, her voice barely above the bubbling sounds of cooking food. “But you could never be wrong. You’re…spectacular.”

  Luke blinked and then he hesitantly came further into the kitchen. When he sat at his familiar stool at the island, she let out a breath.

  That easy, it felt right again. Okay, maybe not everything was fixed, but he was home.

  “Spectacular.” His dimple flashed for a moment and he was blushing.

  Her Luke.

  “I don’t have words for what you are,” she said.

  “Jesus, Sian.” He reached out and gripped her hand.

  She knew she’d be embarrassed if she didn’t get herself together. “So I’m making tofu chicken Marsala.”

  “Chicken Marsala. Remember how we never got to Marsala, Italy, because you wanted to go back to Syracuse?”

  So much shared history. It complicated things, but it also gave comfort. “Yep. You took me back to the museum there, even though I know you weren’t so hot on looking at prehistoric cooking pots.”

  He squeezed her hand and let it drop, then tugged the newspaper towards him and opened it.

  Was it going to be this easy?

  And then he said, “After dinner, we’ll go to my room.”

  Chapter Eight

  As he had so many nights, Luke watched Sian cook.

  She was as expressive as a dancer as she moved around the large kitchen, opening one cedar cabinet that was filled with spice before shaking some over her creation—smelt like cumin to his trained senses—and then she rocked back in her sandals, humming to herself as she took out the pepper and garlic.

  “Lots,” Luke said. “I like it hot and spicy.” Come to think of it, Sian cooked the way she had sex.