“I know what it’s about.” He holds his hands at hip height, like he’s grasping another pair of hips while thrusting his pelvis forward.
“You’re disgusting.”
“It’s sex, Kitty.”
“I don’t need you to mime it for me, Matt.”
He’s laughing as he follows me across the hall to my apartment with Phoebe at his heels. I’ve sort of given up on the idea of keeping Phoebe out of my place. She likes me.
“Fine. What’s got you stuck this time?”
I can only growl when he flops down on the couch, crossing his ankles on the coffee table while Phoebe sits beside him. “Make yourself at home.”
“Hey. You’re lucky I don’t charge you a consulting fee for these little sessions of ours. I don’t work for free.”
“This isn’t work.”
“You know what I mean. I’m a busy guy. My time is valuable.”
“Are you trying to get a free lunch out of me? Is that what you’re trying to say?” I toss him my phone, the app already open. “Order something. Get me my tofu. Then, tell me what it’s like to have sex with somebody you don’t like.”
“What?” He almost drops the phone, bursting out laughing the way I knew he would.
“You’re so predictable.” I sit at my desk instead of anywhere near him since I don’t particularly enjoy being that close to him when he’s laughing at me.
“I’m sorry for laughing. No, really,” he insists when I roll my eyes. “You caught me off guard. Why would you assume I would know anything about that?”
“Don’t you?”
“Hate sex? Not really.” He looks up at the ceiling and blows out a slow sigh, like he’s thinking it over.
“Not even sex with somebody you didn’t like but thought was hot?”
“Oh, sure.” He grins, turning his face toward me now. “Yeah, I know how that goes.”
“How do you do that? How can you disconnect the physical from the emotional and mental?”
“You just do.” He lifts a shoulder while scratching Phoebe behind the ears.
Sweet pup. I envy her sometimes. She doesn’t have to think about things like this—or about anything at all. She gets her scratches and her treats and her walks, and that’s all she cares about.
“I can’t imagine that, and that’s my problem.” I have to rest my head on the desk. “My head hurts.”
“You’re overthinking it—the way you do all the time.”
“Thanks so much. You’re so nice to me.”
“Okay …”
“Really, I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”
“Why do you come to me for advice if this is how you’re going to act when I give it to you?” He laughs. “You need to get your head out of it. That’s my advice to you and to your characters. Because that’s how it works. Letting your body do the thinking for you.”
He shifts his position, now facing me. I can tell from the sparkle in his eyes that he’s feeling mischievous . “I guess you’ve never been in a situation like that?”
“Like what?”
“A situation where you’re so turned on, so hot for somebody, that nothing else matters? Like, you’ll die if you can’t rip their clothes off.” He balls up one fist, pressing it against his stomach. “It’s a burning in your core. It doesn’t even make sense. It’s too strong to resist.”
Oh. Why is my mouth dry all of a sudden? And when was the last time I breathed?
“Um ... no. I’ve never been in a situation like that. When I hate you, I hate you. Nothing’s going to change my mind. Not even a burning in my core.”
“You haven’t met the right man yet.” There’s that naughty smile. Like clockwork.
“I guess I haven’t.” Leaning back in my chair, I fold my arms. “You up to the challenge?”
He bites his lip. “Ooh. Spicy. I like this version of you.”
“Thanks.”
“Kitty’s found her claws.”
“Oh, gag me.” But it makes me laugh, and he joins me. “Don’t quit your day job.”
“You’re the writer.” He looks me up and down. “Had your date yet?”
Dang. That’s right. We still haven’t talked about that.
“Yes, in fact. It was casual. Burgers. No big deal.”
“And is he helping you write about firefighters?”
“He will. I have plenty of notes I took after he showed me around the firehouse.”
“How nice of him.”
He’s being way too calm.
“What gives? What are you trying to get at? Why are you asking me these questions?”
“Because I saw you talking with the guy after the auction ended. Your body language wasn’t exactly warm.”
“How would you know?”
“Because you’ve given me the same cocked-hip, folded-arms, jutted-chin pose before. I think you gave it to me out in the hall.” He looks down at the dog. “Didn’t she? Yes, she did. She jutted that chin way out.”
“It was all a big misunderstanding.”
“Was it?” He looks at me, still petting the dog’s head. “You sure?”
I hate him. I hate him so much.
“You talked to my grandmother, didn’t you? I knew I should’ve looked for you afterward to make sure you weren’t embarrassing me.”
“You mean, the way you embarrassed me by putting me on the spot in front of that cougar? Because you did, and she is.”
“Oh, I’m not arguing that. She totally is.”
“Why did you do that to me?”
“I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time.” When he doesn’t look away, still staring at me with those penetrating eyes of his, I have to break down. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been uncomfortable.”
“Not really.” He stands, grinning, while I have to remind myself to not, under any circumstances, stare at his ridiculous torso. “I mean, I went for more money than anybody else there. No, it was definitely comfortable.”
“Okay, okay. Get out of here. I need to get back to work.”
“What about the food?”
“I’ll leave it in front of your door. I mean it,” I growl when he makes a face. “I have to get back to this.”
“Remember, a burning in your core. You don’t care about anything but how much you need to tear somebody else’s clothes off.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” And I will.
But it’s no help at all. Not when I’ve never felt that sort of all-consuming lust before in my entire life.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Why am I waiting for the other shoe to drop?”
Hayley’s laughter rings out on the other end of the call. “You’re always waiting for that, aren’t you?”
“Nice. Thank you.”
“Because you don’t trust him yet; that’s why.” She pauses. “And because it seems a little strange, I guess. Asking you to meet him at Rockefeller Center.”
“I mean, seriously. We’ve spent all of a couple hours together, tops, and he’s asking me on a date to the rink.”
“Are you going to ice skate?”
“Do I strike you as a masochist?” No way would that end well. I couldn’t even handle roller skating as a little girl.
“Who knows? It could be sort of romantic. Letting him hold you up …”
“I’m not in this for romance, remember?”
“No. Just for a romance book.”
She can’t see me rolling my eyes, so I do it several times for good measure. “Whatever. You know what I mean. I’ve written enough books by now to be able to make things up when I have to. He’s already given me plenty of inspiration.”
“Really?” She pauses for effect. “Then, why did you accept his invitation to go out tonight?”
“You going to law school did me no favors.”
“Case closed.”
“Don’t spike the ball, Hayley. You’ve already won. To answer your question, I don’t know. I guess I wanted to check in with h
im after watching him leave on that call the other day. It was exciting and jarring and freaky. I mean, what do you think it must be like to leave on a call and not know how things are going to turn out?”
“Hmm. That must be hard, but it’s gotta be the sort of thought they get used to and learn to ignore. You can’t live your life in fear. You have to do your job. You have to live.”
“I guess so. I wanted to ask him about that tonight, to get his thoughts on it.”
“What a romantic date idea.”
“It’s not a date.”
“Right. We’ll see if you’re still feeling that way when you get home.”
It’s actually a relief to get off the phone, which is rare when it comes to conversations with my best friend. Bryce has my nerves on edge, combined with Hayley’s question about why I’m meeting up with him again tonight.
Why am I doing this? Because I have a hard time turning people down. And it seemed important to him.
Which is why I get out of the car in front of the crowded center, where the famous Christmas tree was just lit last night. It’s beautiful, as always, and people are elbowing each other out of the way to get pictures of it. Just like New Yorkers, ready to throw a punch for the sake of a good picture of a Christmas tree. The spirit of the season.
“Hey!” Bryce waves at me over the heads of the people between us.
He’s in a turtleneck again. The man found what works for him and stuck with it; I’ll give him credit for that much. He looks fantastic.
I truly wish I hadn’t noticed that first and foremost. I truly wish I could disconnect my girlie feelings and my lady-parts feelings from my brain.
“Hi.” I keep my hands in my pockets when we reach each other, just in case he wants to go in for a hug. The fewer chances for awkwardness, the better.
“I’m glad you came.” Darn it, the flush on his cheeks due to the cold December air makes him handsomer than ever. “I was afraid you’d ditch me since you toured the firehouse.”
I sure wanted to. “Actually, I’m glad to have the opportunity to see you again.” Yes, that’s right. Keep it civil but distant. Professional.
“Really?” His eyes light up.
“I was wondering what it’s like to go out on a call and not know how things are going to turn out. I was hoping you could tell me.”
The light leaves his eyes, but he smiles a little just the same. “Right. There are still things you want to know.”
“Was everybody okay?”
“Sure. You would’ve heard about it on the news if we weren’t.”
“Of course. I didn’t think about that.” Nor did I think about how rotten I’d feel when he expressed disappointment. But, I don’t owe him anything. I don’t have to like him.
He looks toward the skating rink. “Take a spin with me. My treat. And we can talk about things while we skate.”
“No, no, no.” I laugh, waving my hands. “No, I don’t skate. Believe me, it’s for the best.”
“Come on.” He flashes a flirty smile. “I’m an excellent skater. I wouldn’t let you fall.”
“I honestly don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m so clumsy. I have no coordination.”
“You’re too hard on yourself. Come on.” He inches away from me, toward the rink. “Come on, come on. There’s still so much material I could give you for your book …”
“Hey, no fair! You don’t get to hold that over my head.”
“But it’ll be so rich with details and true-to-life experiences …” He shrugs, still inching away.
Darn him.
“I swear, if you let me go and I break my ankle or something, I’ll never forgive you. And I’ll kill you off in my book.”
It’s against my better judgment, doing this, but now, I get the feeling it’s an honor thing. Like, if I refuse, I’ll look like a chicken.
And, yes, I know how immature that is. But I’ve never pretended to be mature.
Before long, we’re both wearing skates, and I’m cursing myself for not being strong enough to say no.
“Come on. You can do it.” He puts an arm around my waist and helps me onto the ice.
I’m too scared of what’s about to happen to care that he’s touching me.
“So, maybe you weren’t too hard on yourself.” He laughs when I almost fall over, holding me close to him. “You’re not very good at this.”
“No kidding! That’s what I was trying to tell you!” I almost fall over again, but his arms have me locked in place. I can’t go far without him reeling me back in.
“Try telling yourself you can do it. Stop thinking about how clumsy you are. Have you ever even tried to do this before?”
“No,” I declare. Gosh, my heart is pounding so hard that I can barely stand it. I can barely even breathe.
And I hate to say it, but Bryce’s nearness isn’t helping much. He makes me feel slightly more secure, but there are all sorts of ways to be in danger.
“I didn’t think so. Take a deep breath. I’ve got you. All you have to do is relax and let me move us around for a while. Keep you even and straight.”
“I hate this,” I admit with a laugh while kids half my age zip past us like it’s nothing. I want to ask them if they’ve ever written a best-selling book. I bet they wouldn’t be able to do that.
“Relax. Breathe. Stop psyching yourself out.” He’s holding me firmly against his body with our hands clasped as if we’re waltzing. “You’ll be able to skate circles around some of these people in no time.”
We reach one end of the rink, and Bryce expertly turns us in a single, smooth motion.
When the heck did he find the time to learn to skate so well while serving in the military and fighting fires? Talk about a Renaissance man.
By the time we cross the ice again, I can breathe without feeling like I’m about to hyperventilate. “Okay, this isn’t so bad.”
“I thought you’d come around.” He pushes off a little harder with one skate, making us pick up speed.
“Not that fast!” I find myself clinging to him, which throws us off-balance and sends us sprawling.
Funny, the number of things that can go through a person’s head when they’re in free fall. It doesn’t take long to fall. A second, if that.
It might as well be a million years.
“Ow, ow, ow.” Bryce disentangles himself from me. “That sucked.”
“I’m sorry.” It’s amazing that the ice is still solid and cold, considering that my entire body is burning with shame and should be melting it by now. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“No, no. Just my ass, but that’s no big deal.” He works his way to his feet and then helps me to mine. I somehow manage to find my balance and not bring us both crashing down again. “I shouldn’t have gone so fast.”
“I warned you, I’m not coordinated.”
“No, that’s not it.” He catches me around the waist and holds me in place. There’s something alarming about his strength, about how steady and secure he seems even though we’re both balancing on single blades. “You don’t believe in yourself. You don’t trust yourself.”
Part of me wants to tell him he doesn’t know the first thing about me and is in no position to give advice. I didn’t ask for it. I don’t even want it.
The other part of me—a much larger part, in all honesty—wants to trust it’s nothing more than my belief in myself, or lack thereof.
And I want to believe he’s looking into my eyes with genuine tenderness. That it would be okay to let him kiss me, that I wouldn’t be leading myself into a whole lot of heartbreak if I gave in and let the moment take us where it wanted us to be.
“Will you do something for me?” A tender smile plays over his lips. “Will you come to the firehouse tomorrow night? We’re having a Christmas party for kids in the neighborhood and giving out gifts and stuff. It’s a lot of fun, seriously. I think you’d like it.”
It’s a sweet invitation. Still, I can’t help but ask, “Why d
o you think I would have fun?”
“Because you used to love the holidays so much. You decorated the front of your locker and everything.”
Holy cow. I completely forgot about that. “You remember that?”
“Of course. And you’re wearing earrings in the shape of Christmas trees.”
“Fair enough.”
“And while you’re still wearing your coat, the sweater underneath has reindeers stitched into it. I noticed when we both went ass over teakettle a few minutes ago.”
“I just bought it and figured it would keep me warm tonight.”
His smile widens until it’s practically blinding. “You still love the holidays. And I promise, when you see how much fun the kids have, you’ll be glad you came. And you’ll also have another chance to get to know the others, including the ones who were off earlier this week.”
“Hmm. That’s true.”
“And I’ll get to see you again.” His arms tighten ever so slightly around my waist. “I can’t pretend to be completely generous. I’ll be getting something out of it too.”
He’s too tempting. Too tall, too strong, too gorgeous, too hot. Too everything.
Just enough of everything to keep me from pulling away when Bryce lowers his head and places a soft, gentle kiss on my upturned mouth.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“So, what happened?”
“That was it.” I look at Hayley over the display of neatly folded clothing between us. “Should there have been more than that?”
“You know what I mean.” She sighs, going through a stack of sweaters, searching for the right size. “What happened after that? He kissed you. And then what?”
“Not much more could happen before we got off the ice, I’ll tell you that much. Not if we didn’t want to break our necks.”
“I told you skating would be romantic.”
“It wasn’t romantic. It was terrifying.”
“Both lead to a surge of adrenaline, don’t they? Romance and terror?” She does a little happy dance on finding the size she was looking for and then holds the sweater up for inspection. “What do you think? For my sister.”
“It’s gorgeous. She’ll love it.” I’m barely paying attention, which probably makes me a really bad friend. It’s just that I can’t stop thinking about what it meant to be kissed by Bryce. And about how, now that I’m being honest with myself, the sight of him leaving to fight that fire gave me a feeling of uneasiness in the pit of my stomach and a lot of anxiety.
Kitty Valentine Dates a Fireman Page 7
