Her response caught in her throat. “Yes.”
“Good.”
The zipper resumed its slow descent, the pressure of the skintight wet suit easing on her breasts, releasing them as the links separated. The sensation was as erotic as if he were undressing her right down to her skin. Her breathing turned shallow, her mouth dried and her heartbeat accelerated. She was as unable now to draw a decent breath as she had been only minutes ago forty feet under the water.
This was not good, she told herself. He’d just rescued her from drowning, her panic-driven adrenaline was still racing through her veins, and she was in a susceptible mood. Vulnerable.
She clutched his wrist. “I can get the rest.”
He glanced up and their eyes met. The heated look she saw sent waves of desire burrowing into her mid-section. The sensual movement of the boat beneath her feet, the gentle rocking, added something elemental to their contact. Something compelling.
Something she didn’t dare explore.
“I think—” She moistened her lips. “I think we’d better go back to the marina.”
He studied her a moment, his gaze so intense she felt as though he were reading her thoughts. “You sure? I’ve got a spare tank you could—”
“No. I’ve had enough excitement for today.” More than enough, and she wasn’t thinking only of her scuba-diving adventure. “I’ll just go belowdecks and change.”
She slipped past him, down the steps into the cabin. Only then did she draw an easy breath. Next time Addy invited her out on the town with the girls, she’d disconnect her phone and hide under her bed.
AT THE MARINA, Kristin made a hasty escape and Mike lingered on the boat until sunset. It had taken him hours to get past a persistent state of arousal. He couldn’t remember any other woman affecting him quite as powerfully as she had. Hell, when she’d gotten into trouble underwater, he’d been almost as panicky as Kristin. He’d sweated bullets getting her to the surface safely.
And then when he’d unzipped her wet suit—
Ah, hell! His own wet suit had become a torture device. Thank God she hadn’t noticed the telltale bulge in his crotch. She had the smoothest skin, the loveliest breasts….
He snapped the lock closed on the cabin door. It was time to get home, where he’d probably have to spend the whole damn night taking cold showers.
He carried his gear to his pickup, dropped it in the back and made the trip to Paseo del Real in record time, pulling into his carport at the rear of the apartment complex where he lived.
Mostly singles and young couples—thirty-somethings like himself—lived in the adults-only, two-story garden units, enjoying a communal swimming pool in the center courtyard and tiny patios off each apartment that gave them some privacy for barbecuing and entertaining. Sometimes tenants organized a potluck in the community room, but mostly the guys watched the girls—and vice versa—around the pool. The resulting romantic relationships revolved so fast, they were as hard to keep track of as the subplots in a Tom Clancy novel.
He entered the courtyard through the back. As he approached his unit, his footsteps faltered. In the muted lights that edged the flower beds he could see that someone was sitting on his front steps. A small someone.
“Randy?” he questioned, frowning. What the hell was the kid doing here?
The boy jumped to his feet. His hair was mussed, his eyes big and sad, and he looked like he’d just lost his best friend. Mike felt a punch to his gut.
“They’re gonna…k-kill Suzie,” Randy stammered.
Mike dropped his gear to the sidewalk, kneeling in front of the boy. “Who told you that, son?”
“Shane. He’s a big kid and knows s-stuff like that. He says the p-pound is gonna put a big rope around her neck and p-pull—” Randy wiped his forearm across his face. “You gotta stop ’em, mister. You promised—”
Closing his eyes, Mike took a deep breath. It didn’t matter that the animal shelter put animals down more humanely than with a noose. This was Randy’s dog they were going to kill. Mike had promised the mutt would be okay, and he sure as hell hadn’t gone to the trouble of rescuing Suzie just to have some bureaucrat put her to sleep—which they’d probably do if no one bailed her out of the pound soon.
Dammit, he should have let Jay go into that burning house first. Then he wouldn’t feel responsible.
“How’d you find me, kid?”
“Shane read your n-name in the newspaper. Then he looked in the phone book.”
Clever boy, this Shane kid. Probably a bully, too, who got off on making little kids miserable.
“How long you been waiting for me?”
“I dunno. Somebody said I had to leave, but I sneaked back.”
“Your foster mom, she know where you are?”
Looking rebellious, he shook his head. “I’m not going back there, neither. I’m gonna find Suzie and then I’m gonna run away.”
“Yeah, right.” Standing, Mike cupped the back of the boy’s head. “You want something to eat before you go?”
He shrugged. “I guess.”
Unlocking the door, Mike shoved it open and switched on a light. “Grab my duffle, will you, kid, while I find us something to eat.”
He watched in amusement as Randy had to drag the heavy duffle up the steps. But the boy didn’t complain. He’d had a hard life and he was tough.
Sort of reminded Mike of himself when he’d been that age.
He fed the boy some soup and crackers, and got him to drink a glass of milk before the youngster dropped in his tracks, the kid’s eyes so heavy he was virtually asleep by the time Mike carried him upstairs into the spare room. The couch in what he called his office made into a lumpy bed but Randy didn’t seem to care. He was out like a light.
Then Mike went back to the kitchen to make a phone call. He couldn’t keep the boy here without notifying the authorities—in this case Kristin McCoy, who didn’t have a listed phone number and hadn’t given it to him when she left the marina.
He called Addy instead and sweet-talked her into giving him the information.
Punching in the numbers, he steeled himself to do battle with the system on Randy’s and Suzie’s behalf—and win.
Chapter Four
Kristin rapped her knuckles on Mike’s front door. Hard. Her foot tapped in the same insistent rhythm on his welcome mat. After his phone call, she’d dressed hurriedly in a skirt and blazer. Heels. Her professional attire. She was a social worker, dammit!
What on earth made the man think he could simply bulldoze his way over—
The door opened.
“Where’s Randy?” She tried to shoulder her way past Mike, but it was like trying to move a mountain. Or a bronzed statue in tight-fitting jeans and a shirt hanging open. His hair was damp, the dark waves combed into order as though he’d taken a quick shower since he called her.
“Easy, princess. There’s no reason to get your dander up.”
Princess? That was a new one. Most people called her red, a nickname she sorely detested. But princess? She’d deal with that later. Much later.
She planted her fists on her hips. “I want to see the boy.”
“Sure.” He eased back from the door. “But I think we ought to talk first.”
“That child is my responsibility.”
“I know that, and he’s just fine. Sleeping like a baby in the spare room upstairs.”
Kristin marched toward the stairs, distractedly noting the open feel of the apartment. On the courtyard side, a picture window looked out onto a glistening pool surrounded by umbrella tables and poolside chairs, all lit by subtle floodlights. The living room flowed into a central kitchen with a breakfast bar separating it from the dining area. From there a sliding glass door led onto a small patio, again softly lit like the pool. What furniture he owned was tasteful—a comfortable-looking couch and chair, an entertainment center in blond oak, matching the small dining table. Light and modern, yet still oddly masculine.
She got
as far as the first riser on the stairs before he snared her arm. She looked down at his hand, the ragged scar left by the dog’s bite a reminder that Mike had been a hero all of his life.
“Randy’s asleep. I don’t want to wake him.”
“I’m going to have to take him—”
“We’ll talk about that after you’ve satisfied yourself I haven’t tied him to the bed.”
She shot Mike a fulminating look. She hadn’t imagined for a moment that he’d do anything of the sort to Randy or any other child. It’s just that rules were rules—
Releasing her, he gestured that she was free to continue upstairs.
She harrumphed her displeasure at being manhandled. Just because they’d had one date, which hadn’t been her idea in the first place, didn’t give him the right to push her around. She had a responsibility to that child upstairs and she was damn well going to take care of business. No macho, arrogant hunk of a firefighter was going to stop her.
At the top of the stairs, she hesitated.
“On the right,” Mike said. “The room with the light. He said he didn’t like to sleep in the dark.”
Empathy squeezed Kristin’s heart tight. She’d practically been in high school before she could give up her night-light, and then only because her brothers had given her such a hard time about being a wimp.
She stepped into the room and her heart constricted even more sharply. Curled into a fetal position on an old couch, his hair all spiky, his cheeks pink and plump, Randy was sucking his thumb. Mike had apparently given the boy one of his old T-shirts to sleep in. Except for one foot which was peeking out, it enveloped him like a giant-size robe.
Instinctively, Kristin reached out to the child but Mike was quicker. With heart-stopping gentleness, he picked up the blanket Randy had kicked off and covered him again, tucking it around the boy then caressing the child’s head with his large, masculine hand, the ragged white scar on the back looking like a badge of honor.
If she’d questioned Mike’s motives before, she certainly didn’t now. He would never, ever hurt this child or any other.
Stepping back, he gestured toward the door. “Let’s talk downstairs.”
She agreed this wasn’t the place to have the conversation she had in mind. But it didn’t change the fact she had to take Randy back to his foster home. The rules were very clear on that, and the Gramercy family had been wild with worry about Randy when she’d called them.
Downstairs, she walked into the center of the living room and folded her arms across her chest. Through the window she could see a sleek young woman doing laps in the pool while a young man looked on. As she watched, he shed his shirt, slipped off his shoes and dived into the pool, picking up the stroke-for-stroke rhythm of the woman. Ah, the beautiful people of Paseo Garden Apartments. A mecca for singles looking for an active social life.
She turned to find Mike studying her with deep, unreadable eyes.
“I gather you haven’t found a foster home that will take Suzie, too.”
“I’m working on it.” Thus far to no avail, but she hadn’t given up yet.
“One of the kids where he’s living told Randy the pound was going to put Suzie down by strangling her.”
Dear heaven—she hadn’t considered Randy would know unclaimed dogs were euthanized after seven days.
She winced. “None of that’s true. I’ve talked with the animal control supervisor. He’s going to hold Suzie—”
“You talked to the animal control people?”
“Don’t look so shocked. I visited the pound right after I dropped Randy off at his foster home. The child—and to some extent his dog—are my responsibility.”
“I’ll be damned, princess. I didn’t think you cared.”
She bristled. “Of course, I do. It’s my job! And what’s with this princess business?”
Crossing the room behind her, he closed the vertical blinds on the window to block the view of the pool area where the swimmers were now locked in an intimate embrace.
“I figured a woman like you from the all-American family—brothers, parents, probably loving aunts and uncles—wouldn’t give a fig about some little snot-nosed foster kid’s dog.”
Kristin wanted to rear back and punch him in the nose the way her brothers had taught her to when a bully had been picking on her in the sixth grade. But something about Mike’s expression, an elusive, almost invisible tremor of pain, made her suspect he wasn’t speaking only about Randy. He had another agenda, and it didn’t have anything directly to do with her or the child upstairs.
“You were a foster child?” she ventured.
He stuffed his hands in his jean pockets. “Twelve years. They threw me out of the system when I turned eighteen, not that the system had done me a damn bit of good in the meantime.”
She looked away from the raw anguish she saw in his coffee-brown eyes. The vulnerability. Her job was to look out for the child, not this man who was capable of touching her in ways she didn’t dare examine too closely. She had enough trouble keeping an emotional distance from her clients; she didn’t need to complicate her life with a fast-talking hero who risked his life every day to save kids and thought nothing of it. In her experience, the smooth ones, those with the quickest smiles, were the least reliable men of all.
“I’m sorry you feel the system failed you,” she said stiffly. “But it’s all we’ve got.”
“Yeah, and sometimes it stinks.”
She couldn’t argue with that. She’d bucked the system enough to know how rigid it could be. Still, all she could do was handle her job as well as she could and keep a close eye on the children to make sure they were safe.
Safer than she’d been able to keep her own son.
“I have to take Randy back to his foster home. I don’t have a choice.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “How long till you find him a place where he can keep his dog?”
“I don’t know. Another day or two. I’m working on it.”
“Then I’ll keep them both, Randy and his dog. We’ll pick Suzie up in the morning.”
Her jaw dropping, Kristin gawked at him. “In case you didn’t notice, there’s a big sign out front that says this is an adults only apartment complex. And I’ll bet dollars to donuts dogs aren’t allowed.”
The incredibly handsome lines and planes of his face rearranged themselves into a scowl. “It’s only for a couple of days. Nobody will complain.”
Probably none of the sexy females who inhabited the building would, Kristin guessed. She wasn’t so sure about the management. “What about when you go to work? You work a twenty-four-hour shift. Who’s going to look after Randy while you’re gone?”
“This was the first day of my scheduled four days off. You said you’d have someplace lined up for him and the dog in a day or two. So he can stay here till then.”
She wished it were that easy. “You are not an approved foster family.”
“Well, la-de-dah.” He got right in her face, all angry and righteous, and more potently masculine than any man she’d ever known. “So approve me.”
“I don’t have the authority—”
“I didn’t have the authority to go back into that burning house to save the damn dog either, but I did it. Rules are made to be broken, princess.”
Typically, men didn’t intimidate her. Raised with two older brothers, she’d learned to hold her own. Usually. But Mike seemed to have some power over her. Part of it was his sheer size and intensity. But she suspected his sincerity was what carried real weight with her. He cared about Randy. Deeply. And that emotion was hard to refute.
“I could lose my job,” she protested, her voice sounding less convincing than she might have liked. It was the child who was important, not her livelihood. Or the fact that she already had one warning for stepping over the line in her personnel file. In that case, she’d taken a traumatized child home with her in the middle of the night rather than leave her at the police station until morning. D
oing anything else would have been heartless.
“And he could lose his dog, the only thing in this whole crazy world he loves—and who loves him back.”
Oh, damn! He knew all the words to trigger her guilt. Her soft heart. “All right!” Her jaw clinched. “For now—”
He moved back out of her personal space with a sigh that could only have been relief.
“—but I’m going to have to check with my supervisors tomorrow.”
“You do that, princess, and he’ll be outta here in about three seconds. No way they’ll let him stay. And if you take him back to that foster family without Suzie, he’ll just run away again. Only the next time he won’t show up at my front door.”
“I’ll talk to him. Make him understand—”
“The only way to deal with bureaucrats is to skirt the damn rules. Do work-arounds.”
“I can’t—”
“You can if you want what’s best for Randy.”
The blood drained from her face. In many ways he was right. And it was true there were times when she’d cut a corner or two—and nearly lost her job in the process.
Ah, hell!
Whirling, she marched toward the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow!”
MIKE STOOD at his door watching Kristin stalk out the front entrance to the apartment complex until she was out of sight. Only then did he let the tension go from his shoulders and step back inside.
He had to give the woman credit. She didn’t cower or give in easily, despite his efforts to intimidate her. And her eyes sparked with green lightning bolts when she got her dander up. He had the distinct impression she was one social worker who’d go to the mat for a kid if she thought it was the right thing to do. There weren’t many around like that, not in Mike’s experience.
There weren’t many who smelled of freshly cut citrus either. Her shampoo, he suspected. Tangerine. Or maybe ruby red grapefruit. A little tart at first bite but definitely refreshing, and sweet once you got used to the flavor.
He headed toward the kitchen to clean up the dishes from dinner. He knew he couldn’t keep Randy forever. With his crazy hours, it didn’t make sense to even consider the idea. Besides, what did he know about raising a kid? Given his background, he couldn’t make a commitment like that. It would be the worst thing that could happen to the boy.
With Valor and Devotion Page 5
