Synopsis | Reviews | Excerpt
Raised in an all-male family of firefighters, Andi O’Roarke
has the right stuff to be a fire chief—one of only a few women who’ve overcome
grueling odds to earn the job. Her brawny, tough-guy firemen respect her and
treat her like one of the boys. That’s fine with Andi. She’s totally inside her
comfort zone when barking orders and hoisting fire gear.
Outside the job, however, she’s clueless about dealing with
men.
Which means arson investigator Tucker Fields is going to
turn up the heat on a flame she can’t control.
Forget about the easy boy’s-club friendship she has with her
firemen; with Tucker the vibes are pure sex, desire, and temptation. He
recognizes how hard she’s fought to downplay every aspect of her femininity in
the macho world of firefighting.
When he and Andi are thrown together night and day on an
investigation, Tucker entices her to lose every inhibition, to give all
control, to explore the scorching passion that can change their lives forever—and
destroy Andi’s career.
As Andi hides their relationship from her men, she fears
that falling in love will leave her heart in ashes.
Coming soon!
Chapter 1
ANDI O’ROARKE knew trouble
came in many different sizes. Sometimes trouble came in the form of a cop who
caught her speeding when she was late for work. Sometimes it was a wildfire
blazing out of control that she just couldn’t get ahead of. Other times it was
a group of subordinates bored from sitting too long in the fire station.
Andi leaned back in her
chair and propped her booted feet on the edge of her desk. The three men
standing before her had been at Station Two for almost five years: Johnson,
McMillan, and Powell. She’d fought fires side by side with these men, cried
with them when they had responded to their first child fatality due to parents
not using a car seat, and drank them under the table on St. Paddy’s Day. So she
knew these guys.
And she knew they were up to
no good. Mick Palmer, her second in command, arched one eyebrow at her. He
sensed the same thing she did. No one who hadn’t been a firefighter could
understand the kind of boredom that going almost a week without a blaze entailed.
The station house sparkled
from top to bottom, every engine had been washed and waxed, and they were all
bored from too many games of pool.
"What can I do for you
boys?” she asked, crossing her arms over her T-shirt-clad stomach.
"We got a bone to pick,
Cap,” Johnson said as they entered her office. On the wall were certificates
she’d received over the course of her fifteen-year career and one picture of
her family—taken last year at Easter.
"I’m
all ears.”
They
shuffled farther into her office. Johnson stood in the doorway; McMillan and
Powell leaned against the credenza. They were all in their twenties and in good
shape.
"Well,
we want to know why these boys in Hillsborough got a couple of strippers in the
firehouse, and all we ever get are kindergartners,” McMillan said, holding a
newspaper out to her.
Andi
took the paper from McMillan, opened it, and read the article—not that the
story was news to her. Word had spread quickly through the entire Florida
firefighting community.
A
fire chief had abused his rank to keep his subordinates quiet about having a
couple of strippers act out his sexual fantasies at work. The accompanying
photo showed a stripper wearing turnout gear, red spiked heels, and, well,
nothing up top. Pretending to study the photo, she wondered how many male fire
captains were having this exact same discussion.
She
folded the paper in half and handed it back to McMillan. There was no way she’d
ever jeopardize her career or the careers of her men the way that captain had
in Hillsborough.
Andi
hadn’t been a firefighter for fifteen years for nothing. She was willing to
play along. "Okay, if that’s what you guys want.”
"Really?”
Johnson asked. McMillan and Powell both straightened from the credenza. She saw
anticipation and excitement on their faces. Some days she really loved her job.
Mick
sat up straighter in his chair, and she knew he wasn’t sure where she was going
with this. She was as by-the-book as they came.
"Are
you sure you guys want to do this?” she asked them, careful to keep her voice
neutral.
"Oh,
yeah,” McMillan said.
"Hell,
yeah,” Johnson added.
She
nodded, then put her booted feet on the floor and leaned forward on her desk.
"Just checking. My brothers have always sworn that they’d go blind if they ever
saw another man naked.”
"What
are you talking about, Cap?” asked Powell. "We want strippers.”
"I
know. Male strippers.”
"Cap,
that’s wrong. Why would we want to see naked men?” McMillan asked.
Johnson
turned three shades of red. "Well, damn, Cap, that’s just mean. You knew what
we were thinking.”
"I
know that you weren’t thinking too well. Why would I want to see naked women?”
"Maybe
they forgot you were a woman,” said Rodney Coltrane from behind Johnson.
Rodney
had been giving her a hard time since they’d met nearly sixteen years ago.
While her crew accepted her because of the job she did, Rodney had a burr under
his saddle about women in any unit. It didn’t help their relationship any that
whenever the two of them had come head-to-head in any competition for a job or
for fun, Andi had always come out the winner.
"Ah,
that’s not it, Cap. We were just joshing you, hoping to ruffle your feathers,”
Powell said.
"Shoulda
known it wouldn’t work,” Johnson added.
"What
can I do for you, Rodney?” she asked as her men filed out. Mick lingered in the
room, but Andi tilted her head at him until he sighed and left as well.
Mick
had been her best friend for too long, and there were times when he still
wanted to fight her battles for her, despite the fact that she’d never needed
him to do so. It had always made her feel good deep inside where she’d never
admit she needed it—the fact that Mick sometimes tried to protect her.
There
was another man standing by Rodney. Someone whom Andi had never met.
He
was tall, at least four inches taller than her five-foot-eight frame. His hair
was dark brown, and his eyes were deep dark green, the color of the grass on
that first spring morning after winter let go of the landscape: bright and
brilliant. Oh, hell, no. She wasn’t attracted to one of Rodney’s pals.
"Actually,
I was just helping out Tucker here. He’s the arson investigator you had to call
in.”
She
didn’t respond to that. Their only option was to call in an outside arson
investigator. They were a rural firehouse and didn’t have a full-time arson
specialist on staff. Tucker must be the state guy she’d sent for due to the
three warehouse fires they’d had over the last month.
"Tucker
Fields, ma’am,” he said, holding out his hand. His breath was scented with
mint, and his aftershave was a clean, crisp one that made her want to breathe
deeper.
"Andrea
O’Roarke,” she said, taking his hand. His palm was big and callused. He shook
her hand the way she suspected he would shake another man’s hand. And that
gesture showed her a measure of respect that Rodney had never offered.
When
she tried to pull her hand free, he held it for an extra second before
releasing her. And when she glanced up at him, she noticed his gaze was on her
face. Nervously, she licked her suddenly dry lips.
"I
don’t think anyone could mistake you for anything other than a woman.”
"Careful,
Tucker. Andi’s not like other girls; she bites,” Rodney said as he turned on
his heel and walked out the door.
"My
favorite kind,” Tucker said, letting her hand slip from his grasp. "But I’m
here for business, not pleasure.”
"And
arson is your business?” she asked, moving away from him. She had an
untouchable aura about her. She was open and friendly, but only to a certain
extent. Since he’d seen her with her men, Tuck realized he wasn’t getting
genuine warmth from her now.
He
was a stranger, and clearly she didn’t know if he was going to be a jerk like
Rodney Coltrane or not. He knew she had to have worked hard to be the fire
chief at this firehouse. But how many times had she been forced to prove
herself to get the job?
Tucker
admired the way Andrea regained her composure and took a minute to gather his
own. He was used to seeing women in the firehouses he visited; gone were the
fire stations of the past that were solely the domain of men.
He
just wasn’t used to being turned on by them. His job usually came first. She
wasn’t model beautiful, but there was a clean-cut, athletic grace to her that
showed in every movement she made.
"What
can I say? I like the heat,” he said, wishing for a moment that his legendary
charm hadn’t deserted him.
But
it had. He couldn’t help himself. Everything about Andrea O’Roarke got to him.
It wasn’t anything overt that she was doing, just the entire package she
presented. He’d always been drawn to strength: something she had in spades.
Her
eyes were deep and dark, guarding her secrets in that enigmatic way that only
women had. Her lips were full—her mouth lush, beckoning him forward. If that
ass Rodney hadn’t been in the office with them, Tuck would have been tempted to
pull her closer and taste her lips when he’d shaken her hand.
She
had a mouth made for kissing. He realized she was speaking to him, but didn’t
hear a damn thing she said. She tipped her head to the side and stopped
talking.
"Sorry
about that; my mind wasn’t here. What were you saying?” he asked. Get it
together, man. Your reputation is on the line.
"Where
do you want to start?” she asked while offering him a chair across from her
desk.
"Who
was the first on the scene?” he asked, trying to prove his mind was on the
suspected arsonist, when in reality, it was on her confident movements as she
took her own seat.
"Johnson
and Powell responded. But they had to wait for a second unit before they could
go inside.”
"Why?”
"We
have the two-in, two-out rule here.”
He
nodded. The two-in, two-out rule meant there had to be two guys waiting outside
in case the two who went in got into trouble and needed assistance. In bigger
firehouses they had a special crew that just waited outside as backup.
"Most
firehouses do. So what’d they find?” he asked, taking notes on a small pad.
"Gas
cans. The blaze took us a while to put out. The men were tired, but we went
over the site carefully.”
He’d
read the report she’d written and knew that her men had done everything by the
book. She was a rule-follower, and that worked in her favor. "You know your
stuff.”
"Of
course I do. Don’t believe what Rodney says. I got this job the same way
everyone else does.”
"With
hard work?” he asked, but he knew that was what she meant. He’d heard about
Andi O’Roarke long before he’d come here. Everyone in the state knew her by
reputation. She was a damn fine firefighter, despite her sex.
"Damn
straight.”
He
narrowed his eyes, watching her carefully. He was walking the kind of fine line
he’d rarely had to with the opposite sex. But the stakes seemed higher with
her. "You know, you’ve got a chip on your shoulder.”
She
arched one eyebrow at him. "Only for men who ogle me and think a woman can’t do
this job.”
He
fought to keep from grinning at her. She was so sassy, it was hard to believe
that the men who worked with her forgot she was a woman. "Ogling you doesn’t
equal a disbelief in your abilities.”
"Really?”
she asked, as if she didn’t believe a man could be attracted to her and still
admit she was very competent at her job.
"Really,”
he said. He leaned back in his chair, pretending to study the papers she’d
handed to him, but he felt that business was out of the way. He already had the
information he needed to start his arson investigation. Now he wanted to start
another, more personal inquiry.
"Do
you want something to drink?” She fiddled with the papers on her desk. She had
long fingers, and her nails were short, functional. She was totally feminine to
him, yet not fragile.
"A
Coke would be nice.”
She
walked to the credenza and bent over to open one of the doors. She had the kind
of hips that made a man’s hands tingle wondering what they’d feel like in his
hands.
She
straightened and caught him staring. He shrugged. He was attracted to her and
wasn’t even going to pretend he wasn’t. Everything about her turned him on.
Suddenly
all the confidence he’d seen seemed to drain away. She held the can out to him
and hurried behind her standard-issue desk. There was something different in
her body language now. This wasn’t the same woman who’d joked with her men
about strippers.
He
hooked his ankle over his knee. Popping the tab on the top of the can, he took
a long drag, hoping the icy beverage would cool the heat of his body: the heat
that was being generated by the woman sitting across from him—eyeing him
warily.
He
held the Coke can loosely in one hand, trying to look as nonthreatening as
possible. But he wanted her, and he knew himself well enough to know that he
wasn’t going to back away without a fight. Watching her, he waited for
everything to click into place.
As
an arson investigator he had to be intimately aware of human behavior. The
subject had always intrigued him. He’d never met a person whom he hadn’t wanted
to figure out, find out why they behaved the way they did. Those were the same
techniques he used to find the arsonists he was responsible for catching.
He
just had to figure out what the turn-on was, why they were drawn to fire, and
what they hoped to get out of it.
Shamelessly
he used the same techniques with women. And nine times out of ten it worked. Of
course, that one time when it didn’t work had served to keep him humble. He
knew on one level that he wasn’t privy to everything about women or about human
nature, but he was willing to turn failure into success.
"Why
are you staring at me?” she asked, her voice dropping an octave.
"I
like the way your mouth looks,” he said, his own voice sounding deeper and
huskier than normal. Damn, this woman made him hotter than he’d been in a long
time. And, honestly, she wasn’t doing anything other than being herself. He
didn’t understand this attraction to her, but he didn’t question it.
"You
are making me uncomfortable,” she said, chewing on her lower lip. "And I don’t
like it.”
"Your
mouth is making me uncomfortable.” She wasn’t helping him get his mind back on
business. "And I do like it.”
"I
can’t be responsible for your wayward fantasies,” she said, in a way that made
him realize this was a woman at home in the business world but not in a
one-on-one with a man.
"Yes,
you can.” She was solely responsible for those fantasies. He’d never had this
problem on the job before. But if she nibbled on her lower lip one more time,
he was coming across the desk and tasting her mouth for himself.
"Why?
If I was a guy sitting here, you wouldn’t be having those fantasies, would
you?” She sat up straighter in her chair, and that fire he’d seen earlier was
back.
It
was there in her eyes. She had the kind of passion that most women were afraid
of. And he sensed she was afraid of it, too, but when she felt threatened, it
came out with her temper.
"No,
but neither of us can change the fact that you are a woman, a fact I can’t help
but notice.”
She
opened one of the files on her desk. "Well, stop. Let’s talk about the case.”
He
let her change the subject and listened to her voice as she read him the
initial incident reports. He liked her voice. It was throaty and husky, making
it all too easy for him to picture the two of them in bed on a long, lazy
afternoon.
"You’re
doing it again,” she said, without looking up. Her hair was pulled back in a
ponytail, but a few strands escaped to curl enticingly along the back of her
neck, which was long and slim, seemingly fragile.
"Doing
what?” he asked. After he finished with her mouth he was going to spend a lot
of time nibbling on her neck.
"Staring,”
she said, glancing up at him.
"I
think we’re going to have to just go with it. I can’t seem to help myself.”
She
closed the folder and leaned back in her chair again. "I heard you were one of
the best.”
"I
am the best.”
"Then
prove it. Because all I see is a hound dog who can’t keep his tongue in his
mouth.”
"Touché.”
"It’s
nothing personal. I just don’t want the men to suddenly start looking at
me... the way you do.”
"How
do I look at you?”
"You
know.”
"Do
I?”
"You’re
a pain in the ass, right? Someone, sometime, told you it was charming, and
you’ve clung to that.”
He
laughed for the sheer joy of it. "You’re the first woman to mention it.”
"Maybe
I’m the first woman to see through your facade.”
"I
have a facade?”
"You
know you do,” she said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her desk.
"Does it work?”
He
shifted, setting the papers and the Coke at his feet, and leaned his arms on
the desk so that only a few inches separated them. Her eyes were really several
different shades of hazel and brown. They were beautiful up close.
"Have
dinner with me and find out for yourself.”
She
flushed and pushed back away from him. "Uh... no, thanks.”
Staying
where he was, Tuck sorted through the possibilities. Either she didn’t want to
go out with him or she was scared to go out with him. His ego, and his money,
were on the latter.
"Chicken?”
he asked, playing a hunch.
"I’m
not afraid of you.”
"Prove
it. I’m only asking you for dinner.”
Chapter 2
"AND
THEN HE left,” Andi said, taking a deep swig of her beer. She was kicked back
on a patio lounge chair at her best friend’s house. "So what does that mean,
Sara?”
"I
have no idea. I don’t know why you think I understand men.”
"Because
you’re married. You must have done something to figure out at least one guy.”
"Ah,
but Mick’s not like other guys.”
"That’s
right, I’m better.”
"Define
better,” Sara said.
"Me,”
he said, bending down to kiss her.
Andi
watched her friends, envious and a little jealous of what they had. She’d
resigned herself to being single for the rest of her life. Lots of firefighters
were. The job was too hard on relationships, and it didn’t bother her. But ever
since Tucker had invited her to dinner three days ago, it had been all she’d
thought of.
"What
did it mean, Mick?”
"Hell,
I don’t know. I wouldn’t have asked you out like that.”
"Why
not?”
"Because
Sara would have killed me.”
Sara
flexed her muscles from where she stood at the grill. "He’s scared of me.”
Andi
realized her friends were going to be little help. Or maybe they didn’t realize
she was serious about wanting to understand Tucker. She hadn’t been able to
sleep for the last few days from thinking about him. There was something about
that man that wouldn’t let her go.
He
was in her dreams and in her mind as she ran her five miles each morning, his
words echoing in her head: that watching her didn’t mean he thought she was
incompetent. It had been a long time since any man had looked at her the way he
had.
Sure, she dated and had sex with guys, but they were
always kind of... not as strong as she was. She’d always set
the tone for her relationships, and men always backed down when she confronted
them. Why hadn’t he?
"You
okay, Andi?”
She
glanced at Mick. He’d set the table and brought over the tray of burgers that
Sara had grilled. Mick couldn’t cook, something that everyone in the firehouse
had learned the hard way.
"Yeah,
fine.”
"Tell
me again about this guy,” Sara said.
"Never
mind. I’m sure he was just having fun at my expense.”
"I
don’t know about that. How many men ask you out at work?”
She
frowned, taking a huge bite of her burger to keep from having to answer. Why
the hell had she brought this up? No man at work ever noticed she was a woman
unless she accidentally walked into the sleeping area when they were changing,
and even then they usually didn’t think anything of dropping their trousers and
changing in front of her.
She
just wasn’t a girly girl. She’d always known it. Growing up with her four
brothers and a strict father had reinforced that. But unless she missed her
guess, Tucker Fields had noticed she was a woman.
Too
bad, because she wouldn’t mind seeing him drop his pants.
"Are
you going to answer the question?”
"What
do you think? No one asks me out at work. Unless you count that one Fourth of
July picnic when Joe Zenwicki got drunk and told everyone in the park that
someday I’d be his bride.”
"No
one counts that. He asked every woman there to be his bride.”
Just
as she’d thought. She’d never really been special to any man, not in a womanly
way. The men whose homes she’d saved from burning to the ground thanked her.
The men whose kids she’d taught to stop, drop, and roll thanked her. But
usually men didn’t look at her the way Tucker had, as though she was his
favorite flavor of ice cream and he couldn’t wait to lick her up.
"What
are you going to do about it?”
"I
don’t know. The man called me a chicken. I can’t let that pass.”
"No,
you can’t,” Mick said around a bite of pickle. "That kind of word gets out and
you’ll lose your reputation as a tough-ass.”
"Funny,
Mick, really funny. I don’t think he’s going to tell anyone he said I was a
chicken.”
"Really?”
"Yeah,
he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who was going to talk about me.”
"Maybe
you should go out with him, then,” Sara said.
But
she couldn’t. Too much time had passed. How was she going to bring up the
subject and not be embarrassed? And that was the problem. She would be
embarrassed, especially if he’d changed his mind. What if he hadn’t meant to
ask her out?
"Men!”
"Uh-oh,
I think I should be going. I’ll wait for our other guest up front,” Mick said,
taking his beer and leaving the table.
"What
other guest?”
"We
can’t play Risk with only three people. Mick invited some new guy over to even
things out. He’s so paranoid that you and I are going to team up against him.”
Mick
had probably invited Danny Brown, their newest recruit. He was fresh from
training. She glanced around for her T-shirt. She should probably put that on
before he got here.
"Tell
me more about this guy,” Sara said.
Andi
wrapped her arms around herself, forgetting her T-shirt for a minute. "What’s
to tell?”
Sara
smiled across the table at her. "Remember when Mick asked me out?”
"Yes,
what a nightmare. He was a basket case until you finally said yes.”
"Well,
maybe this guy is a basket case waiting for you.”
She
swallowed. There was no way any man would be that crazy for her. She had
nothing that Sara did. That was no slam against herself; it was just that she
wasn’t a woman that men went crazy for. She was a woman whom they called when
they needed advice on how to fix things up with their wives or girlfriends.
But
still, the man had called her a chicken. Maybe he didn’t know what he was
letting himself in for. Maybe that rat Rodney had said something to make him
think she’d be easy game. But there had been something charming about him.
"I’m
going to call him on his dare.”
"What
if it wasn’t really a dare?” Sara said.
But
Andi ignored that. She tried to concentrate on her food, but the only thing she
hungered for was more knowledge of Tucker Fields.
TUCKER
WASN’T sure why he’d accepted Mick Palmer’s invitation to drinks on Thursday
night. But he had. It had been obvious from the time Tucker had spent around
the station house that Mick and Andi were friends. And Tuck knew Andi would be
there. Considering she’d avoided him for the last few days, he wasn’t sure how
she’d react to his being in her friend’s home.
He
couldn’t figure her out. He gave her space, but she still hadn’t responded.
Maybe that was the problem; he was being too cautious. She needed a man to
storm her defenses and take control.
He
raised his hand to knock on the door of the modern ranch house. Tuck hadn’t
spent a lot of time in Polk County, Florida, but the area was rural and remote.
Most residents lived a quiet life reflective of old Florida. Mainly ranchers
and citrus growers, they were called Florida Crackers: small-town folks who
still lived by the morals that were slowly fading from the fabric of American
life.
Mick
opened the door. "Hey, you’re just in time to grab a burger.”
"Thanks,”
Tuck said, handing the pack of Coronas to Mick as he followed the other man
into his house.
The
sound of Jimmy Buffett played on the patio, and he heard two women talking. His
body tightened, and his blood flowed heavier through his veins as he recognized
Andi’s voice.
Jimmy
was singing about coastal connections, a warm breeze blew through the open
glass sliding door, and Tuck felt a kind of settling deep inside where he was
always restless. Why he’d find it here in this rural community with these
people he really didn’t know; he had no clue.
"I
hope you brought your game with you.”
"Why?”
"Because
I have a feeling it’s going to be men versus women, and Andi plays to win.”
"What
about your wife?”
"She
can hold her own. But can you?”
Tuck
stopped him in the doorway before they stepped through. "What do you mean? Of
course I can hold my own against a couple of women.”
"Ah,
but you have to forget they are women. They can be tricky and ruthless. Don’t
forget that.”
Mick
stepped through the doorway, and Tuck followed him. "Look who’s here.”
Andi
glanced up and choked on a bite of her burger. Mick casually reached over and
smacked her several times on the back. Both women wore bikini tops and shorts.
They had their hair pulled back in ponytails, but that was where the
similarities ended. Mick’s wife was petite, a curvy little redhead with warm
cinnamon brown eyes.
And
Andi... well, she was an Amazon goddess with some of her wild
brown hair escaping the elastic to curl around her neck.
"Sara,
this is Tucker Fields. Tuck, this is my better half, Sara. You know Andi.”
The
casual introduction belied the fact that both women were glaring at Mick. Tuck
had the feeling that he was a surprise addition to what was clearly a ritual
event between them. He smiled at Sara, hoping to ease the tension.
"Help
yourself to a burger, Tuck, while my husband and I get something in the
kitchen.”
"What
do we need from the kitchen?” Mick asked.
Sara
glared at him until he nodded at her. "Oh, I’m going to put your beer on ice
and help Sara,” he said to Tuck.
The
other couple left the patio, and Tuck sat down next to Andi. Time hadn’t
diminished the attraction he felt for her. He’d been concentrating on his job,
wanting to apprehend the arsonist before he focused on her, but it had been
hard.
"How’s
the investigation coming?” she asked her plate.
He
made his burger and then just sat back and waited. Eventually she lifted her
head and met his gaze. She had the kind of eyes he could drown in.
"Did
you hear me?”
"Of
course. I was waiting for you to ask me and not your plate.”
"Why
do you care?”
"Because
I know that you are hiding from me,” he said.
"That’s
the second time you’ve inferred that I’m some kind of coward. It’s not true.
I’m not afraid of any man.”
"I
know that. You’re an Amazon goddess, and woe to the man who doesn’t notice
that.”
"Stop
making fun of me. I knew you were one of those guys.”
"What
guys? I don’t really fit in any one category well.”
"The
type who think I’m some kind of freak,” she said, then flushed and pushed away
from the table.
He
followed her the short distance to the porch railing. She had braced her hands
on the wrought iron that surrounded the cement pad. He stood behind her and
then slowly lowered his hands on either side of hers so that his body
completely enfolded hers.
He
kept a small inch of space between them so they weren’t actually touching. He
leaned closer to her, barely resisting the temptation that her long, slim neck
represented. "I don’t think you are a freak.”
She
turned her head, glancing over her shoulder at him, her eyes wide with
confusion and a trace of fear. "Then what do you think?”
"That
you are a woman I’ll never be able to forget.”
He
canted his body farther into hers and lowered his head to kiss her.
His
mouth moved over hers, not a tentative asking for permission, but a bold taking
of what he wanted. Andi was used to men being intimidated by her, both in and
out of bed. There was something about her strength that kept them at bay. But
not Tuck. He took what he wanted.
That
made her feel... She didn’t know. Couldn’t think when his
mouth moved over hers like that. She turned in his arms, putting her hands on
his slim hips and leaning up into him.
He
tasted of minty gum and something else. Something different and deeper. He
tasted like adventure and daring, and she realized that she’d let him shock her
into forgetting that she backed down for no man.
She
slid her hands up his sides and around his neck. She tunneled her fingers
through his hair and went up on tiptoe to take control of the kiss. She thrust
her tongue deeper into his mouth and massaged the back of his head as she
tasted him.
He
moaned deep in his throat, the sound making her squirm with excitement. But
then he slowly turned the tables on her. His hands swept up and down her back
in languid caresses that made her skin so sensitized that she was anticipating
each of his touches.
His
thumbs slipped under the sides of her bikini top. Not touching her breasts, but
so close that her nipples immediately tightened. She shifted in his arms,
trying to put some space between them, trying to readjust the balance of power.
But
he held her firmly. Slipping her fingers under the collar of his shirt, she
scraped her nails against his neck and felt the reaction in him as his erection
nudged her stomach.
She
rubbed her hands over his chest and reached between them to touch him. But he
captured her wrists, gently pulling her arms behind her back and anchoring them
with one of his hands. The position of her arms forced her breasts forward
against his chest.
She
pulled her mouth from his, staring up at him. He watched her, and she knew the
vulnerability she felt in that moment was clear to him. But instead of triumph
or gloating, she saw a tenderness in his eyes that made her want to cry. No one
had ever looked at her that way.
"Kiss
me again,” he said.
She
nodded and leaned up toward him. His mouth came down on hers, but the embrace
and tone were controlled by her. He let her set the pace and take her time.
This time she explored his mouth carefully, dropping several soft kisses on his
lips and nibbling at his lower one. She sucked it into her mouth and teased him
with soft touches of her tongue.
Her
breasts were cushioned on his chest. They felt full and needy. She tried to
rotate her shoulders so that she could rub the tips against his chest, but he
held her too securely.
She
pulled back. She felt his erection between them, knew he wanted more. "Why?”
"I
want to know your mouth completely before we move on to anything else.”
"I
don’t know if we’re going to move on,” she said honestly. He overwhelmed her in
a way that she’d never experienced with anyone before.
"We
will be. Kiss me again.”
Mick
cleared his throat from the doorway. "I thought we were going to play Risk.”
"Hell,
kissing this lady is risky.”
Mick
laughed. "Five-minute warning. Sara and I are making margaritas for the ladies,
and then we’ll be right out.”
Andi
fought to control her body’s reaction to the interruption. Damn, Mick was the
last person she wanted to see her and Tuck together. She wanted more time alone
with Tuck. She wished they were anywhere but here. But she knew that if Mick
hadn’t invited Tuck over, Andi wouldn’t have decided to accept Tuck’s dinner
invitation.
Her
body was already telling her that her mind had been right. This man was
dangerous.
"I’ll
show you risky,” she said, damning the husky sound of her own voice. She tried
to pull her arms free, but he continued to hold them securely. She didn’t want
to make a scene, and it was important to Andi to bring the situation back to
normal as quickly as possible.
"I
like danger,” Tuck said, looking right at her.
"I’m
not dangerous,” she assured him.
"Oh,
I think you are.”
She
wasn’t going to argue with him. "Let go of my arms.”
"Not
yet.”
"Not
now, Tucker. Mick and Sara are going to be here any second.”
"We’re
not finished.”
"I
kissed you,” she said.
"Now
it’s my turn.”
He
lowered his head one more time, and Andi forgot to breathe. His lips were firm
and commanding, yet all the time careful of her. He slipped one of his hands to
the back of her head and angled his mouth over hers, tipping her head in a way
that made her totally open and vulnerable to him.
He
had complete control over her. She couldn’t do anything but submit to him and
to his will. She shivered in his embrace, wishing her hands were free so she
could wrap her arms around him.
She
stretched up on her toes, leaning into his body while he set her soul on fire
with his mouth on hers. His chest pressed to her aching breasts. His cock was
hot and hard next to her stomach. She felt him through the layer of his pants,
right against the skin of her stomach that was left bare by her low-riding shorts.
When
he lifted his head, his lips were wet and his eyes narrowed. He wanted her. She
tipped her head to the side to study him, but there was no time. He let go of
her wrists.
Placing
his hand at the small of her back, his heat burning into her skin, searing her
with his touch, he led her to the table and seated her. He acted so calm when
every inch of her felt as if it was on fire.
Calmly
he picked up his burger and took a huge bite. Her heart was racing, and her
skin was so sensitive that the slight breeze blowing through the night made her
every nerve pulse.
She
stared at him, realizing that something was changing inside her and that she
was powerless to stop it.