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Noah glared at the woman hanging upside down above him. If the fire and climb didn’t kill her, he’d probably wring her fool neck.
“Ouch,” she shrieked abruptly. “You ungrateful wretch,” she cursed.
Noah blinked. Odd. She didn’t seem to be talking to him, and she didn’t seem to be in immediate danger of falling. Quite the contrary—she inched along the branch with the confident ease of a gymnast, her long hair waving like a golden brown banner in the breeze.
“Damnation,” Walker O’Brien, the Astoria fire chief, growled at Noah’s elbow. “How’d she get up there?” He motioned to one of his men, who trotted toward one of the trucks. “Are you okay, lady? We’re getting a ladder.”
By now she’d reached the center of the tree and she parted a swathe of leaves to look at them. “Don’t bother. I can manage.”
Walker harrumphed. “I should lock you up.”
She leaned out farther and smiled at him winningly. “But you won’t, will you?”
To Noah’s disgust the fire chief chuckled and shook his head. “My God, Starr Granger. When did you get home?”
“A couple of days ago. I’m on vacation. You know, visiting my parents and stuff.”
“And you couldn’t stay out of trouble,” the chief said with a grin.
“That’s—” A muffled growl came from her midsection and she winced. “Ow. Maybe I’ll take that ladder after all. My passenger is using me as a pincushion.”
“Is that where the blood came from?” Walker asked.
Startled, Noah looked up. Sure enough, there were red streaks on Starr’s hands. The front of her jacket squirmed and a furry head poked out above the zipper, squalling in fury.
“I rescued Becky’s cat,” she explained. “But he didn’t appreciate the favor.”
Just then the ladder arrived and Noah grasped it firmly. “I’ll get her,” he said.
Walker grinned and stepped aside. “You’re the doctor.”
“I don’t need anyone’s help,” Starr protested. “Just shove the ladder against the branch and I’ll manage fine.”
Noah climbed up anyway. “Going into that house was crazy,” he snarled.
“I’ve been accused of a lot of things. Crazy is mild compared to some of them.”
“I’ll just bet!”
“Besides, it wasn’t that dangerous,” she asserted. “The fire was clear on the other side of the house.”
At the moment Noah didn’t care if the fire was on the moon. Obviously Starr Granger was a daredevil risk taker. A rebel to common sense. Her vocabulary probably didn’t even include words like caution and yield. “This is an old house,” he said grimly. “It could have gone up like a tinderbox and you’d have been trapped.”
“I took a calculated risk.”
“Noah is right,” Walker O’Brien said from below. “Fires in these old places are unpredictable.”
Starr frowned. “Stay out of this, Walker.”
He shrugged. “Hey, I fight fires. I’d just like to get back to fighting this one...if you don’t mind.”
“Coming, Miss Granger?” Noah held out his hand, trying to control a smug smile.
“I told you, I don’t need any help. Why are you still here, anyway? You should have taken Becky home.”
Noah’s free hand clenched around the ladder. How dare she criticize the way he took care of Becky? A woman who couldn’t even attend her best friend’s wedding or goddaughter’s christening. “One of the firemen fell. I was treating him. Any objections?”
A curious flicker of emotion flashed across her face. “I’m sorry. Is he badly injured?”
“Why do you care? Are you planning to write a story about it, or just take a couple of gory pictures?”
The blue-green of her eyes deepened with indignation. “That isn’t fair. I’m a photojournalist, and a damned good one. I don’t get my kicks out of seeing people hurt.”
The cat hissed at that moment, as though mirroring the fury of the woman who had rescued him.
“Anyway,” she continued, “I didn’t want a story. I just wanted to get Becky’s kitty for her.”
Noah sighed, knowing he’d unconsciously taken his distrust of the news media out on Starr, probably because it was so easy to be angry with her. But that didn’t change the fact she’d risked her life for a cat. A cat! He looked her squarely in the eye. “That animal could have taken care of itself.”
“You’re just mad because you didn’t think of it first.”
He glared.
“Besides,” Starr continued, “the door was closed and the window was shut.... The poor thing was helpless.”
“Helpless?”
Noah grunted. As far as he could tell from her scratches, that poor thing had five effective weapons on each of its paws. Even worse, he suspected the helpless little wretch was about to take up permanent residence in his house; those claws were going to do some serious damage to his leather upholstery. Of course, Becky’s grape juice and peanut butter had already done a job on the furniture...and on everything else.
“Please don’t dawdle,” Walker advised from his position on the ground. “I still have work to do.”
“Coming,” Noah said tersely. He ought to have his head examined for talking to the woman in the first place, much less having a conversation with her on a ladder!
He grasped Starr’s waist as she swung from the tree. Doing so was a mistake. She wiggled indignantly, but the movement only reminded him that she was a woman—soft and nicely rounded in all the right places. Her tight, jeans-clad bottom was intimately aligned with his chest and her hair flew like fragrant silk around his face. He drew a deep breath and caught the scent of honeysuckle on a warm afternoon—except honeysuckle had never smelled that good on a bush.
Stop. Noah groaned. He’d always heard that anger could be stimulating under the right circumstances. Yet he’d never quite believed it until now.
“I’m ready to climb down. You’re in my way,” she said in a muffled voice...squirming to make her point.
Noah gritted his teeth and tried to focus on anything but the sexy slide of her hips against his body. He only partially succeeded. So he thought about the scratches on her hands. They would have to be cleansed and disinfected, then bandaged.
Good, think like a doctor.
But his thoughts were entirely male as he descended with her...one slow rung at a time. Starr kept leaning away from the ladder, trying to protect the cat still snarling loud complaints from her jacket, which meant she came into closer contact with him. When they finally reached the ground, Noah’s jaw ached from being clenched, and the rest of him didn’t feel so great, either.
As they walked toward the ambulance she unbuttoned her jacket and unhooked the angry feline from her shirt. Becky caught sight of the animal and lunged forward.
“Mine.” She held out her arms, and Noah knew his leather furniture was doomed. Kitty had just found a new home.
“Wait a second, kiddo.” Starr knelt beside the child, holding the feline’s paws firmly in her hands.
“Careful, Becky,” Noah warned. “He’s a little upset right now, so be gentle.”
Becky leaned forward and gave Kitty a series of solid pats on his head. “O’tay,” she said. A loud purr rose from the cat and his eyes closed ecstatically.
“Now he purrs?” Starr muttered. “Swell. Why couldn’t he have done that while I was saving his life?”
“Take care of Becky for a moment,” Noah said to Mrs. Dinsdale. “I need to treat Mrs. Granger’s wounds.”
Starr handed the cat to the baby-sitter and followed him to the rear of the ambulance, an enigmatic smile on her generous mouth.
“Let’s take a look,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Uh-uh. I want him to do it.” Starr pointed to the emergency medical technician.
An exasperated sigh rose from Noah’s chest. “I’m a very good doctor.”
“I’m sure you are. But I still want him.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake!”
Noah stepped back and let the EMT take over. The man efficiently dealt with the scratches, then pointed to the red stains on her shirt, visible beneath the jacket. “Is that blood from your hands?”
For the first time Starr seemed uncomfortable. “Er...no. Kitty got a little wild when I climbed out of the window. But it’s okay, I’ll take care of it myself.” She zipped the jacket to her throat as her gaze darted sideways, colliding with Noah’s. He instantly remembered the intimate contact between their bodies as they’d climbed down the ladder.
“We can step into the ambulance if you’d like,” the technician suggested.
“No, I’ll take care of it later.”
“Cat scratches get infected easily. Perhaps you’d feel more comfortable if Dr. Bradley examined you,” the EMT said smoothly.
“Uh...I don’t think so,” Starr murmured.
Noah lifted his hand in exasperation. Was she holding a grudge? Admittedly, he hadn’t been very accommodating when she’d called, asking to take Becky for a weekend. His niece was still adjusting to her parents’ deaths, and he didn’t want her daily routine upset for an absentee godmother, visiting on a whim. Maybe that explained Starr’s reluctance to accept his help.
“We need to talk. Sit down,” he growled, pointing to the convenient step on the vehicle.
The EMT grinned and said he’d check in with the fire chief. Neither of them watched as he slipped away.
“I’m not—”
“Down!” Noah put his hands on Starr’s shoulders and pushed. She winced at the pressure, drawing the left side of her body away from him. A worried frown creased his mouth. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me another whopper, okay? One I might actually believe.”
Starr sighed. “It’s an old injury, and none of your business. Besides, I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor for a couple of scratches. It’s silly.”
“I don’t understand,” Noah said, attempting to sound reasonable. It was quite a struggle, because he felt anything but reasonable. “Think of me as a physician, not a man.”
Her enigmatic smile returned. “Let’s get one thing perfectly clear between us—I’m not your patient, and you’re not my doctor.”
“Do you have something against doctors?”
“Not particularly.”
Noah rubbed his forehead. Starr Granger was having an unfortunate effect on him—she made him insane. “Then what’s wrong, Miss...er...Ms. Granger?” he asked carefully.
She leaned toward him. “Make it easy. Call me Starr.” A complex mixture of emotion glimmered in her blue.-green eyes. “There’s a perfectly good reason I don’t want you to be my doctor.”
“Oh? What is it?”
The cool, unbandaged tips of her fingers stroked his jaw. “They say actions speak louder than words, so I’ll just have to show you.” Her lips brushed his mouth and the heat went clear to his toes.
“What was that supposed to prove?” he asked, his voice gritty with restraint. The last thing he’d expected from the rebellious Starr was a kiss.
“I thought it was obvious. I guess I’ll have to try one more time.” An instant later she flowed against him, filling his senses with warmth and the scent of honeysuckle.
Unable to resist, Noah slid his fingers into the soft silk of her hair and pulled her closer. She tasted like an exotic fruit, provocative and mysterious, with infinite layers of texture and passion.
He knew exactly what she was telling him. The American Medical Association disapproved of kisses between doctors and patients, but Starr hadn’t let him become her doctor. They were just a man and woman, kissing in front of half the Astoria fire department. Somehow that didn’t seem to matter.
After an endless moment she pulled away.
“See you later, Dr. Bradley,” she said, spinning on her heel and walking away.
Noah’s mouth dropped open as she disappeared. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered.
He shook his head, trying to clear her tantalizing fragrance from his senses. Starr Granger had all the physical equipment to make a man feel...restless. But he didn’t want to get involved with anyone, much less a globe-trotting journalist who took incredible chances to get her photographs.
Not that it mattered. Starr had probably just kissed him because of excess adrenaline. He didn’t consider himself boring, but he was hardly the type of man to attract a woman with her explosive life-style.
A reluctant smile curved Noah’s mouth when he realized he was just making excuses. His common sense told him to forget the sensual fire in Starr’s restless eyes and supple body—he just didn’t want to.
Chapter Two
Noah groaned as he stared at the newspaper from the previous day. Thoroughly annoyed, he slapped his cup down on the breakfast table.
On the front page was a picture of Mrs. Dinsdale’s old house, surrounded by firefighters. That wasn’t the bad news. The bad news was the back page, where the story continued. A second article augmented the sketchy information—all about one of Astoria’s more famous citizens, Starr Granger.
“Damned reporters,” he muttered, the paper crumpling between his fingers.
Next to a smiling publicity shot of Starr, was a picture of both Starr and Noah in front of the ambulance...kissing. The caption beneath read “Local doctor lures prize winning photographer back home.” He had his arm around Starr’s waist and she was arched against him.
Great, just great. That’s all he needed.
He didn’t remember putting his arms around Starr. But he remembered the softness of feminine curves pressed against him, the scent of honeysuckle...the provocative flavor of her mouth. He remembered the shifting shades of blue and green in her eyes, and the affectionate way she’d looked at Becky. Those memories had kept him awake the night before, aching with hunger.
