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“I’m not,” he protested. “Not at all—especially not to Fiona.”
“Fiona...” Braden murmured wistfully. Or lustfully...
Hearing the lust, Wyatt smacked the other man’s shoulder. “Hey, she’s a friend’s sister, so she’s off-limits.” At least to him.
Braden snorted. “I’ve met the sister of every man on the team.”
Wyatt believed it. Braden was the kind of superintendent who made it a point to meet the families of all his team members...though for a couple of them the team was the only family they had. Wyatt’s parents had been killed when he was eleven. And another one of the guys—Cody Mallehan—had been an orphan, too.
Braden continued, “She is not related to any of them.”
“I have friends outside the team.” Because of the wives who had made them give up the jobs they had loved. But she wasn’t related to any of them, either. “She’s the sister of one of the kids I’ve been mentoring.”
Except that Matt wasn’t a kid anymore. So he should be able to make decisions without his sister’s interference. Even if those decisions were wrong, he needed to figure it out for himself—not have someone berate him for it. Matt had told Wyatt that Fiona was bossy and controlling, which was part of the reason why the half siblings weren’t close. The other part was that they hadn’t been raised together.
“Then she’s not off-limits to me,” Braden pointed out. “I think I will join you at the bar.”
Wyatt smacked him again—a little harder. “She’s off-limits to you, too.”
“I may have met most of the kids you mentor...”
Because Wyatt had brought them around the firehouse. He hoped he hadn’t inadvertently influenced Matt’s decision to try to join the Forest Service Fire Department.
“But I’m not friends with any of them,” Braden continued.
“That’s not why she’s off-limits to you,” Wyatt said. “She’s off-limits because she’s the type of woman you need to avoid.”
“What type is that?” Braden asked. “Sexy as sin?”
“The type that wants you to make a commitment and then gives you ultimatums or walks away,” Wyatt warned him. “And you’ve already had one of those.”
Braden sighed. “It’s not always the wife who gives the ultimatums, you know.”
Wyatt narrowed his eyes and studied his friend. “Do you want to talk?” he asked. “I can cancel with Fiona...” But his stomach muscles tightened, his gut clenching in protest.
Why? She was probably just going to yell at him. She had been pissed even before he’d made his inappropriate comments to her.
“Maybe you should,” Braden said.
So his friend was finally ready to talk—to really talk. He’d said some things before, when he and his wife had hit their rough patch. But he hadn’t explained the situation and how it had led to a divorce so quickly.
“I will if you want me to,” he offered. Selfishly he hoped that Braden didn’t want him to. “I’ll have to run over to the bar and let her know, though.” Since he didn’t have her number...
He’d known Matt for six years, but he’d barely ever seen or talked to the guy’s sister. As Matt had said, they weren’t close. So why was she so upset over his career aspirations?
“But then we can talk,” Wyatt said. “As long as you want...”
Braden laughed. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Well, I was just kidding about the sex earlier,” Wyatt joked. “You’re not my type.”
Braden smacked his shoulder now. “I’m just saying that maybe you need to take your own advice.”
He was a little sexually frustrated himself—more so since Fiona O’Brien had walked into the weight room and slapped him. And he’d touched her...
He might have kissed her if she hadn’t tried to hit him again. That had brought him to his senses. He had no business kissing a woman like Fiona, let alone having sex with her.
He shook his head. “No...”
“You’re warning me to steer clear of women like her,” Braden reminded him. “Maybe you should, too.”
Wyatt laughed. “But I’m in no danger of falling for her.” For any other woman, either, but most especially not a woman like Fiona. He wanted nothing to do with bossy and controlling.
“She’s beautiful and sexy,” Braden said. “Yeah, no danger at all...”
“No,” Wyatt said again.
But moments later he turned the water cold as he stepped into the shower. After that passionate encounter with her, after nearly giving in to the temptation to kiss her, he needed to cool off. But no matter how cold the water was, his skin was still hot. His blood still pumping fast and hard through his veins.
She was beautiful and sexy. But he had known plenty of women just as hot. And he hadn’t fallen for any of them.
He was not going to fall for Fiona O’Brien.
3 (#ulink_e19fe4f2-ef33-55c3-af73-ca9e741762b0)
“WHERE ARE YOU?” Howard asked, his voice squeaking in her ear. Not that he had a squeaky voice. It must have been the bad cell reception and the noise in the bar that made his voice sound so whiny and petulant.
Fiona considered walking out to finish the call on the street. But then she would lose the booth she’d found in the back of the crowded bar. And she would have to walk past all those guys who’d whistled at her when she’d walked in. Since she was one of the only women in the place, she hadn’t been particularly flattered. The other woman was heavily muscled and tattooed and had also whistled at her.
She pressed her mouth against the phone and said, “I had to take a meeting.”
“In a bar?” he asked. And there was definitely petulance in his tone.
She couldn’t blame the cell reception. And she couldn’t blame him for being upset that she had canceled. She should have been flattered that he was so disappointed. But was he disappointed or merely irritated?
Of course, she hadn’t canceled until he was already on his way to the restaurant where they met every Friday night. A nice restaurant—not a place like this with a loud jukebox, louder patrons and peanuts crushed against the scarred wide-planked wooden floor.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But something’s come up with Matthew—”
“Your brother.” Now a sigh, one that sounded long-suffering, rattled the phone.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. Did she talk that much about Matthew?
Sure, she was worried about her brother; she had been worried about him pretty much since the day he was born. She’d only been six at the time, but she was the one who’d rushed to him every time he’d cried. She was the one who had been there for him...until she’d been taken away. After her stepfather’s death of a drug overdose, her paternal grandparents had decided her mother was unfit to raise their granddaughter. They’d sued her mother for custody of her and won—taking eleven-year-old Fiona away from her five-year-old brother.
Fiona wanted to be there for Matthew again. But he wouldn’t let her. Maybe he resented that she’d left him. That hadn’t been her choice, though. The judge hadn’t listened to what she’d wanted. And now Matthew wouldn’t listen to her, either. He only listened to Wyatt Andrews.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to your meeting with him,” Howard said.
She opened her mouth to correct his misassumption that she was with Matthew. Would he be jealous over her meeting another man in a bar, though—even if it was just to talk about her brother?
But before she could say more, he continued, “I’ll see you next Friday.”
“Why not before?” she asked.
Wyatt hadn’t been talking to her when he’d been teasing about being edgy and tense. But he could have been.
She just hadn’t been aware that she was...until she’d seen him, lifting weights—his naked arms and chest straining, muscles rippling, skin glistening with sweat. Her mouth dry again, she wondered where the drink was that she’d ordered when she’d walked in. And then it suddenly appeared on the table in front of her. She grabbed the glass and took a quick sip.
And gasped as the fiery liquid burned her throat. This wasn’t the club soda she’d requested. It tasted more like gin than tonic water.
Howard was talking—something about busy schedules or sticking to schedules. She barely heard him as she looked up to tell the waitress that the bartender had gotten her drink wrong. Since she hadn’t seen a waitress when she’d walked in, she’d given her order directly to him. But it wasn’t a waitress who stood beside the booth.
It wasn’t Wyatt, either. This man was nearly as tall and muscular, though. But while Wyatt’s hair was dark and too long, this man’s was light and clipped short. His eyes were light, too, a pale green. Was he a waiter? A different bartender from the one she’d spoken to?
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
Howard thought she was talking to him. “You’ve already apologized,” he said. “I understand you need to talk to your brother. We’ll see each other next week.”
“Yes,” she said. “Goodbye...”
Howard had already clicked off the phone. She did the same and dropped her cell back into her purse.
“I’m sorry,” she said again to the man leaning over her booth—over her. She raised her voice so that he would hear her. “But this isn’t the drink I ordered.”
“I know,” he said as he slid into the booth to sit across from her. “I ordered this drink for you.” He held a frosted mug of beer, which he clinked against the glass she hadn’t realized she was still holding. “Cheers to the most beautiful woman in the place.”
She glanced around and discovered that the only other woman had left. And despite herself, she laughed.
He sucked in a breath. “Beautiful doesn’t even do you justice.”
Oh, God, she’d inadvertently encouraged him. She pushed the drink toward him. “No, thank you,” she told him. For the drink and the compliment. “I’m waiting for someone.”
“He’s too late.”
She wondered what was keeping Wyatt, and that damn image flashed through her mind again—of him standing naked in the shower, water sluicing over his skin and muscles...
Despite the sudden dryness in her throat, she didn’t reach for the glass again. The last thing she needed was alcohol. Her judgment was already impaired, or she wouldn’t keep thinking of Wyatt Andrews...naked.
“He’ll be here soon,” she said. But she really had no idea. Maybe this was a joke—sending the woman he apparently considered frigid into a bar full of men.
The guy sighed. “What a waste...” he remarked. “A woman like you waiting for an idiot like him.”
“You don’t know who I’m waiting for,” she said. She considered Wyatt Andrews a lot of things: arrogant, reckless, insufferable. But he was no idiot.
“He’s a fool for making a woman like you wait,” he said. “I would never do that to you.”
She was tempted to laugh again. But she’d already encouraged this man too much. So she assumed the icy demeanor she used to dissuade men like him—the same demeanor she’d previously used with Wyatt Andrews. No wonder he’d thought she was frigid. Hopefully this man would, too.
“You can keep your drink,” she said, pushing it closer to him. “And your opinion.”
He laughed now and held up his hands. “To inspire so much loyalty in you, this must be some amazing guy you’re meeting.”
“I am,” a deep voice said—too close to her ear—as Wyatt Andrews slid into the booth to sit next to her. His hard body, smelling shower fresh, pressed against her side. Shoulder against shoulder, hip and thigh against hip and thigh.
Heat flashed through her. She was definitely not frigid. “There you are,” she murmured.
Instead of taking the hint and leaving, the other man tipped back his head and laughed. “Wyatt. I should have known it was you she was waiting for.”
“Why?” The question slipped out without her realizing it. But she wanted to know.
The blond guy readily replied, “Who else would have staked a claim on the most beautiful woman in the bar?”
“I’m the only woman,” she reminded him. “And Wyatt has no claim on me.”
“Well, if that’s the case...” He pushed her drink across the narrow table.
She’d inadvertently encouraged him again. Maybe that was why she didn’t protest when Wyatt slid his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer—as if it were possible for them to get any closer.
No space separated their bodies.
She could feel his heart beating against the side of her breast. It was beating fast and hard. Unfortunately so was hers.
“Get lost, Cody,” he told the other man. “I apparently have to stake my claim.”
She turned her face toward him, to protest his arrogance. But her lips barely opened before his mouth covered hers. Like his body, it was hot and sexy. He took advantage of her parted lips to deepen the kiss, flicking his tongue inside her mouth.
Heat rushed through her. It wasn’t anger. Or even embarrassment. It was desire.
Did he feel it, too? He slid his lips across hers, back and forth, and dipped his tongue inside once more, stroking over hers. Teasing her.
God, he was teasing her.
She realized it when he pulled back, and his blue eyes glittered as he stared at her. She was the idiot—not Wyatt. She glanced across the table to the man who’d called him that. But the blond guy was gone.
They were alone. And still much too close together.
“Are you going to slap me again?” he asked, almost hopefully.
So she lifted her hand to his face.
* * *
WYATT WAITED FOR the sting of her palm connecting with his skin. He needed a hard slap to snap him out of it—out of his gut-clenching desire for her. His body was hard and aching.
But instead, her fingertips glided along his jaw. “You’d like that too much,” she said. “I did figure you for that S&M stuff.”
“Not me,” he protested. “I’m into pleasure—not pain.” Being with her would certainly be pleasurable. She was so hot—so passionate. But being with her would also lead to pain—to commitments, to ultimatums.
