by Lori Foster
“I just have a headache from lack of sleep, actually.” She sent him a calculated look. “We didn’t get to bed till late.”
His chest constricted. Why hadn’t she gotten enough sleep? She’d been dead-out when he’d awakened.
The washer buzzed and Rosie stepped into the small laundry room off the kitchen to put her clothes in the dryer, giving Ethan a moment to think.
There had to be any number of reasons why she’d been in his bed, other than the most distressing one. Why she didn’t want to tell him, he couldn’t say. Sometimes Rosie could be difficult for no apparent reason.
But he’d get the truth out of her, one way or another.
“Hey, Ethan?”
He stayed in the kitchen, unwilling to test his resolve by getting near her again. “Yeah?”
“Did you mean that I couldn’t be trusted, or women in general?”
Oh, hell, he didn’t want to have this discussion with her. He jammed a carton of sour milk into the bag with more force than was necessary. Just getting the garbage off the countertops and off the floor made his place look much cleaner. Normally it didn’t get so bad, but on top of the lousy week, he’d really been dreading the party last night. For days, cleaning had been the last thing on his mind.
“Is this a tough question, Ethan?”
Knowing she wouldn’t let it go, he gave her the truth. “I meant all women.”
“Really?” The silence was telling. “Including me?” She strolled back in, her eyes a flat gray—not a good sign.
“Rosie, let’s drop this, okay?” Ethan could already tell she was up for an argument. He wasn’t. He needed to know that he hadn’t... touched her. And then he needed more sleep.
“No, it’s not okay.” She crossed her arms under her breasts. “You’ve insulted me.”
He stared at the ceiling so he wouldn’t be tempted to look at her breasts again. “How about if I just apologize?”
“Not if you aren’t sincere.” She sighed, sounding a little defeated. “You know, I fully intended to tell you everything.”
Everything? He gave up his study of the ceiling and met her gaze. “What the hell does that mean?”
“You know.” She flapped a hand. “Why I’m here, what I want, stuff like that.”
What she wanted? Ethan tied the bag shut and set it aside. If she kept this up, his head would explode. “Okay, let’s get this over with. What do you want?”
Her mischievous smile came slowly, accompanied by a twinkle in her eyes. “Oh, you’d like to rush me through this, wouldn’t you? But why? You weren’t in a rush last night.”
He reached for her and she ducked away, laughing. “I still can’t believe you forgot everything from last night.”
Two deep breaths didn’t help Ethan to contain his temper. “There wasn’t much to forget, now was there?”
“There was enough.”
His jaw ached from clenching his teeth. “If that’s true, then you took advantage of my drunken state—which proves what I said. Women can’t be trusted.”
“Some women, maybe.”
“Like a woman who sleeps with a guy she knows is drunk?”
She winced, pretending to be wounded, but her grin told the real story. “Okay, let’s back up. When you spout all that baloney about women not being trustworthy, you make yourself look really pathetic.”
“Is that right?”
“Yep. It shows that Michelle really did a number on you and that you let her.”
Oh, no, no way. He didn’t want to talk about Michelle. He didn’t even want to hear Michelle’s name. Not now, not ever. “Be smart, Rosie, and keep her out of this.”
Of course she didn’t listen to him. She wouldn’t be Rosie if she did. “Why? That’s what this is really all about, isn’t it? You got jilted and you’ve been playing the wounded swain ever since.”
“It’s none of your business. You’re a friend, not my mother, not my confessor.”
“Damn right I’m your friend.”
She put her hands on her hips again, but this time Ethan was too annoyed to admire her cleavage. Rosie’s anger struck him in waves and left him a little awed. He’d only witnessed her fierce temper a handful of times.
“I’ve had enough of you dragging around with your tail between your legs.”
“I don’t.”
“Don’t growl at me, Ethan Winters. What would you call it? You date every single girl within a three-hundred-mile radius—but only once. You make cracks about women all the time—and in case you’ve failed to notice, I’m a woman.”
“I noticed.”
That shut her up, even left her bemused, but only for a moment. Her chin lifted. “Yeah, well, when you belittle half of humanity—”
“The female half. And I don’t belittle them, I just look at them realistically. I see them for how they are.”
She rolled her eyes. “You make yourself look defensive.” Her expression softened. “You make yourself look...well, lovesick.”
The humiliation of being jilted in front of half the town and all his friends and family would be burned on his brain for the rest of his life. It wasn’t the sort of thing that a man just got over.
It wasn’t the sort of thing that Ethan would ever forget.
Rosie took a step closer to him. “Getting drunk and picking up strange women is certainly not the behavior of a hero, a role model for the community.”
Because he didn’t like the way she looked at him, and he especially didn’t like the topic, Ethan backed up. “Screw that. I never asked to be called a hero.”
In fact, part of the reason he’d started drinking last night was the ceremony honoring him. It had been every bit as bad as he’d imagined. He’d felt ridiculous, the center of attention for the first time since the wedding. And he’d felt undeserving.
“Ethan.” Rosie’s tone chastised as she continued to advance, nearly backing him into the pantry. “You’re a firefighter and that’s heroic enough. But you risked your life to save those people.”
He sidestepped away from the pantry and found himself in a corner, next to the stove. “I did what any guy would have done, especially a firefighter. I did my job. That’s all there is to it.”
“In near-zero visibility? Knowing that the house could have collapsed at any moment?”
Ethan dropped his head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling. Three weeks ago when he’d entered the flaming residence, he hadn’t had heroism on his mind. Through the crackle of burning wood and shattering glass, he’d heard people calling, pleading for help. Their voices had been raw from the thick smoke, desperate. Weak. Ethan had simply reacted.
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 w
on’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 intervene 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.”
