Red Hot

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He shrugged. “You wouldn’t understand...”

“Why you want to risk your life?” She shook her head. “No, I don’t understand that.” She stood up and came around her desk. But when she reached out for him, he stepped back. “Do you know what it would do to Mom if something happened to you?”

Losing her husbands had nearly destroyed her. Losing her son definitely would.

He snorted derisively. “Do you? You’re the one who never sees her.”

“I see her...” But it was difficult because the woman continued to make poor decisions. She kept dating men like her late husbands. Men who drove too fast and drank too much. She’d probably buried a few of them, too, but had refrained from admitting it to Fiona.

She wouldn’t have wanted to hear “I told you so.”

Matthew’s mouth twisted into a grimace of disgust. “Then you know that Mandy would just drink an extra bottle of wine and forget all about me.”

“I wouldn’t.” She reached out again, trying to stroke his hair as she’d done when they were kids. But he was too tall now. She could only squeeze his shoulder.

His grimace became a sneer of resentment. “You did.”

She shook her head and reminded him, “It wasn’t my choice to leave. You know that.” According to the judge, she had been too young at eleven to make her own decision. But even then she’d known herself better than anyone else had. And she’d known that Matthew, at five, needed her more than her grandparents did.

He sighed. “I know. I know...”

“And I never forgot about you.” She had visited as often as she’d been allowed and her mother had been able to afford. Her grandparents, who’d lived, and still lived, in Florida, had made certain the judge made her mother responsible for her travel expenses. They’d known it would keep her visits home to a minimum.

He laughed. “Maybe it would be better if you had forgotten about me.”

She gasped.

“I’m just joking,” he said.

But she wondered.

“You do tend to forget that I’m not that little kid you left,” he said. There was nothing little about him now; he towered over her. “You can’t boss me around anymore, sis.”

“I don’t want to boss you,” she assured him. “I just want you to—”

“Do what you want,” he finished for her.

“That’s not the case at all,” she said. She wanted him to finish college, but before she could explain, knuckles tapped against the open door behind Matthew.

“Hello?” Wyatt Andrews called out. “There wasn’t anyone at the reception desk.”

Fiona regretted now that she’d been so tired she’d forgotten to lock the outside door. She hadn’t minded Matthew coming inside, but she would have rather not seen Wyatt Andrews again.

“Hey, Wyatt!” Matt turned around and grabbed the bigger man in a tight embrace. And there was that adoration with which he used to look at Fiona when they were kids.

Wyatt flinched and eased back. And Fiona gasped at the bruise on his handsome face.

“What the hell happened to you?” Matt asked.

Wyatt shrugged. “Bar fight...”

“I should’ve been there,” her brother said. “I would’ve had your back.”

“You’re not twenty-one,” she reminded him. He was too young to be in a bar, much less in a bar fight. He was also much too young to decide on a career that could cost him his life.

Matthew glared at her before turning back to his idol. “I’m sure the other guy looks worse.”

“Guys,” Wyatt corrected him.

And encouraged him. Fiona could almost see her brother’s admiration grow. She was right in thinking that Wyatt had influenced Matthew’s decision. Matthew didn’t just want to be like him; he wanted to be him.

“What was the fight about?” Matthew asked. “Did you steal someone’s girl?”

“I didn’t steal anyone,” Wyatt said. And he glanced at her over her brother’s shoulder.

Matthew laughed and playfully punched his shoulder. “You wouldn’t have to—all the women just want to be with you because you’re a Huron Hotshot!”

Wyatt turned the bruised side of his face toward them. “And I thought it was because I’m so damn good-looking...”

He was—even with the bruise. It had done nothing to detract from his appeal. If anything, it had added to his attractiveness, giving him that air of danger women like Fiona’s mother craved. But not Fiona...

“No sensible woman would want to get involved with a man who constantly risks his life,” Fiona said. So where had her sense gone? Why had she let images of Wyatt Andrews keep her awake all night?

Matthew snorted. “Who wants sensible women?”

Definitely not a twenty-year-old kid. And probably not a thirty-year-old playboy firefighter who got into bar brawls. Tammy had been crazy to think Fiona would be able to use her limited feminine wiles to influence Wyatt to help her.

But she needed help. She wouldn’t be able to convince Matthew on her own. If anything, her objections seemed to make him more determined to follow through with his dangerous plan.

“What are you doing here?” Matthew asked. He glanced nervously from one of them to the other.

Fiona had been wondering that herself. She doubted he’d lain awake thinking about her. Hell, he probably hadn’t gone home alone—after he’d returned to the club to help his friend. He’d definitely been the most attractive man in the place.

Wyatt shrugged broad shoulders. “I have an appointment to talk...”

They hadn’t made an official appointment. They hadn’t had time before he’d rushed back inside the club.

Matthew turned to her, and his brown eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What are you doing?”

She gestured toward her desk. “Working...” It was what she was usually doing—making sure people were protected. That was what she was trying to do for Matthew, but he wouldn’t appreciate her protection. He would see it only as interference.

“Yeah,” Wyatt agreed. “I’m here to talk insurance.”

The suspicion didn’t leave Matthew’s eyes—even as he turned to look at his idol. “Like you would ever worry about being insured...”

“I didn’t agree to buy anything,” Wyatt said. “I just agreed to talk.” He glanced at his watch. “But I don’t have much time.”

Matthew looked between them again. He obviously wasn’t buying that Wyatt had come to her office for an insurance appointment. But he respected him too much to call him a liar.

He respected him so much that he would listen to him—if Fiona could make Wyatt listen to her. She had to make him listen.

Matthew shot her a glare before he turned and headed out the door. He patted Wyatt’s shoulder as he passed him. “I’ll catch you later.”

He made no promises to see her again. His showing up at her office had been unusual. But he’d known his call, telling her that he’d dropped out of college to become a firefighter, had upset her the day before. Had he come to check on her? Or had he been worried about what she might have done to stop him?