Читать книгу Can't Help Falling In Love - Wendy Etherington - Страница 14

JACK ACTUALLY PAUSED with a beer mug raised in the air, on its way to a customer’s hand. Skyler Kimball swept inside the bar with a quiet hush, but nearly every patron of the place turned to see the newcomer, as if they knew something innocent and pedigreed had invaded their midst.

“Hey, man, do I get the beer, or what?” his customer asked.

Disgusted with himself and the sudden swelling in his jeans, Jack set down the beer, sweeping away the money the customer offered, then stuffing it in the register without even counting the cash. What was she doing here?

From the corner of his eye, he watched her walk somewhat hesitantly toward the bar. Dressed in faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt, she looked sexy, approachable. The jeans hugged her slim thighs and narrow waist, and even under the dim bar lights her blond hair shone like sunlight.

Damn, he wanted her. How could she strip away his resolve to resist her so easily?

Ben wouldn’t fire you for just talking to his sister, whispered the seductive devil serving as his conscience.

Right. He could talk to her. His captain was a by-the-rules kind of guy, he rationalized, and technically only the city council could fire him. Just play it cool, he told himself.

He met her gaze. And the impact of those blue eyes staring into his caused a tremor of need to vibrate clear down to his toes.

He wasn’t cool any longer.

She approached him, angling her head and frowning. The two men in front of him jumped off their barstools, scooting them back with a loud scrape across the wooden floor, each holding out a hand for Skyler to take his seat.

Waving their gesture aside, she asked, “What are you doing here?” in such an accusing, frustrated tone, he had to smile. Could this attraction be a two-way street?

“Have a seat, chère. I had no idea you’d come collecting my drink offer so soon.”

“I’m not here to see you.”

Jealousy kicked him hard in the ribs, and he knew he’d been kidding himself about fighting their attraction. He’d taken plenty of risks before. Why should this one worry him?

She accepted one man’s offer of his stool with a brief thank-you, but continued staring at Jack suspiciously. “You never answered my question.”

Jack forced his gaze away from her glistening pink lips. “Huh?”

“Why are you here?”

“Helping Gus. You?”

“I’m—” She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “I come here all the time,” she said, turning back with a bright smile on her face.

“Uh-huh.” He responded to a couple of shouted orders for refills on drinks, trying to picture Skyler Kimball sidling up to the bar for a whiskey after work. The vision didn’t gel.

Looking nervous, she glanced over her shoulder again.

She was up to something. Something she didn’t want to tell him about. Of course he was a virtual stranger. Why would she tell him? Her business was none of his business.

He stood in front of her, leaning against the bar. Be cool, remember? “So, what’ll you have?”

She set her purse in front of her as her gaze danced down the bar. “A beer, I guess.”

“What kind?”

“Huh?”

I come here all the time. Right. He didn’t mention the slip, but said, “I’ve got Bud, Bud Light, Michelob, and Coors Light on tap. In bottles, there’s—”

She held up her hand. “Whatever you like.”

He drew a Michelob from the tap, placing the cold mug in front of her.

After a brief sip, she smiled. “This is better than the last one I had.”

Momentarily struck stupid by her smile, he didn’t comment. Her parents had named her right. She was an angel who belonged in a pure, cloudless sky. Not being gawked at by a swamp rat, respectable citizen wanna-be like him. But then, there were those non-respectable panties of hers…

He grabbed a towel from beneath the bar and wiped down the wood. When was the last time a woman had affected him so strongly, so quickly? Since…never.

“Are you moonlighting?” she asked after another sip of beer.

“Sort of,” he said, glad to be distracted from his thoughts. “I’m the restless type, I guess.”

“Aren’t you tired after working a twenty-four-hour shift at the firehouse?”

He shrugged. “Nah. We usually sleep uninterrupted through the night. There’s not a lotta action in Baxter.”

“Is that what you want—action?”

Something in her tone brought his head up from his cleaning task. Her eyes reflected an odd combination of wariness and curiosity. “Sure. I jumped at Ben’s offer to come here, ’cause I want to work in a big city station. With Atlanta so close, I figured this was the perfect opportunity. I sure wasn’t gettin’ anywhere at home.”

“In Louisiana?”

“Yeah. A tiny town just outside Lafayette. St. Francis makes Baxter look like a booming metropolis.” He leaned one hip against the bar, smiling as he pictured his grandparents’ white cottage on the banks of a tiny stream, brimming with crawfish in the spring and mosquitoes in the summer. “We didn’t even have a fire station. Me and another guy—who double-dutied as the undertaker and town coroner—covered fire and medical emergencies with volunteers and occasional help from the sheriff.”

She returned his smile. “Baxter used to be like that. My grandfather was the only paid firefighter back then. What about your family?”

“My grandparents still live in St. Francis.” He didn’t mention his parents. Explaining them could take hours. “They own a bar and restaurant.”

Waving her hand at the bar, she said, “That’s why you look so comfortable back there.”

He shook his head. Comfortable wasn’t even a remote possibility around Skyler. The urge to pull her into his arms swept through him. Would she tremble beneath his touch? Would her eyes turn smokey with need? Would she smack the crap out of him?

“Bartender!” a guy shouted from the other end of the bar before Jack could give into the temptation.

“Be right there,” he called back. After one last look into Skyler’s sensual blue eyes, he strode off to fill the order.

By the time he returned, the devil on his shoulder had convinced him he should ask her to dance. One dance. What harm could there be? He was good enough for one dance.

From pretending coolness to jumping into the fire. After over five years, he should be used to it.

Gus approached her at the same time Jack did. “Hello, lovely lady. I’ve never seen you in here before. Name’s Gus. This is my place.”

As Skyler shook Gus’s outstretched hand, a guilty flush colored her cheeks. Again, Jack wondered what had brought her to the bar.

“I’m Skyler Kimball,” she said.

“Kimball, huh?” Gus rubbed his chin, glancing from Skyler to Jack, then back. “Ah, that’s how you know Jack here, right? You must be those Kimball boys’ younger sister.”

Skyler winced. “That’s me. The little sister.”

Rocking back on his heels, Gus nodded. “Great guys. The one who’s a cop…”

“Wes,” Skyler supplied.

“He’s broken up quite a few brawls in here,” Gus continued.

Skyler smiled weakly. “He’s usually around when there’s trouble.”

“One night this crazy guy came after him with a broken beer bottle. Wes never even flinched and had the creep disarmed in seconds. It was incredible.”

“I guess. If you call fourteen stitches incredible.”

Skyler’s gaze dropped to the floor, but Jack had seen the worry in her eyes. After losing her father, he supposed she feared for the rest of her family. She sipped her beer, the haunted look lingering in her eyes. She looked small and alone.

Hadn’t he sworn to serve and protect? Well, no. That was the cops. Hmm. Well, in addition to being a firefighter, he was a medic. He’d sworn to heal.

His gaze bounced from Skyler to the dance floor, then back. What the hell. “Hey, Gus, I promised Skyler a dance. Can you take over for a bit?”

“Sure.” Gus glanced at his watch as he walked around the end of the bar. “My waitress and busboy should be here any minute. You two have fun.”

Jack rounded the bar, then stood just behind Skyler, his hands resting on the back of her barstool. The heat and flowery perfume rising from her skin wound his muscles tighter.

“I never said I’d dance with you,” she said in a low tone.

He leaned close to her ear, tendrils of her blond hair tickling his nose. “Will you dance with me, ’tite ange?”

She turned her head, bringing their faces so close, her breath whispered across his skin. His gaze flicked to her lips. The urge to kiss her kicked through him, but he tamped down the impulse.

“Okay,” she said finally, a little hesitant.

Before she could regret her decision, he captured her hand in his, then led her to the dance floor. The postage-stamp-size area forced them close together, though only four other couples were dancing. He slid his arms around her waist, while she rested her hands on his shoulders, stretching to reach.

“How tall are you anyway?”

“Six-six.” He frowned and noted Skyler frowned as well. Maybe he intimidated her. She was so petite, delicate…untouchable. What the hell was he doing with her?

Dancing. Just dancing.

Yeah, right. Like her cop brother would believe that. A cop brother who came into the bar often.

Jack bit back a groan—of regret and hunger. Skyler felt wonderful, soft and curvy against his body. He longed to run his hands down her backside, pulling her against his erection.

“I haven’t danced in a long time,” she said, her sweet breath caressing him through his cotton T-shirt.

He stared down at her, his gaze riveted by the glistening curve of her lips. “Me either.”

Her eyes turned smokey, needy. That look had followed him into sleep every night for a week. She might be fighting their attraction, but she felt it.

As awareness danced between them, she fixed her gaze on his lips, then licked hers. And he lost his battle with restraint.

Leaning down, he fit his mouth over hers, moving his lips against hers, memorizing the taste and feel of her in case she never let him touch her again. Her lips trembled, then parted, inviting him inside the warmth of her mouth. He slid his tongue against hers, gliding against her heat, her sweetness. As he pulled her closer, her stomach nestled against his erection, and he groaned into her mouth.

Could he work around the brother problem? Could he bury his insecurity about his past? He had no idea, but he wanted Skyler, all her beauty and spunk and curves. Very little else seemed to matter at the moment.

She leaned back, breathing hard, staring at him oddly. “Oh, hell, not again.”

Her eyes dilated. Her MVP? If she fainted again, by damn, he’d drag her to the doctor personally. “Skyler?”

She rested her head against his chest. “Hmm?”

“Are you okay? You’re not going to faint, are you?”

“Not as long as you’re holding me up.”

He was certainly enjoying serving as her prop, but even his libido couldn’t override concern for her medically. “Take easy, deep breaths. Concentrate on stabilizing your heart rate.”

She lifted her head, looking up at him. “Relax. I’m not going to drop at your feet.”

He lifted his eyebrows. She had before.

“Again,” she finished, then grinned.

Relaxing a bit, he stroked her hair back from her face. “You know, chère, about that drink…maybe you could reconsider—”

Her gaze darted over his shoulder, distracting him. He glanced around, but didn’t see any enraged brothers bearing down on him, so he turned back to her.

“Would you excuse me just a moment?” she said before he could continue.

Breaking free of his hold, she strode toward the bar, pulled something from her purse, then crossed to a table occupied by three women who appeared to be the walking definition of “biker chicks.” Though everyone seemed to be wearing leather lately, these tough faces, windblown hair, black motorcycle boots and tattooed arms belonged on the back of a Harley.

His body still vibrating from her kiss, Jack narrowed his eyes, starting after her. What was she up to?

“I’LL CALL YOU next week about your order, Flash,” Skyler said, then glanced back and saw Jack working his way across the bar. Damn, damn, damn. He’d never believe Flash and her “gang” were customers of the shop. What in the world was he doing at a biker bar anyway? Didn’t he know the cops and firefighters all hung out at The Corner Pub in town? And what in heaven’s name had possessed her to kiss him?

“Great. Thanks for finding my wallet and bringin’ it way out here,” Flash said, punching Skyler’s shoulder lightly.

Wincing from the friendly jab, Skyler backed away from the table. “No problem. I—” She couldn’t get the words “come here all the time” past her lips again. “I was glad to do it for such a terrific customer. See ya.” She waggled her fingers, then spun to intercept Jack before he reached them.

Too late, she thought somewhat hysterically as she plowed into his wide chest. She bounced off the hard muscle and would have fallen flat on her butt if he hadn’t grabbed her by the waist. Why did the man have to be so attentive…so “gorgeous and available,” as she’d overheard at least fifty times during the week from the stream of helpful gossips passing through her shop. Only Roland was disappointed in Jack’s attributes. “Straight,” he’d informed her mournfully.

Once she found the courage to look up, her gaze connected with his. Big mistake. Those soulful brown eyes belonged on a child, not a full-grown man. And, heavens, did he have great lips. She wanted them on hers again…and again. Desire trembled through her veins.

“Are you okay, chère?” he asked.

And that accent…whew. “Just super,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t question her further. Their explosive kiss had left her light-headed—which he didn’t have to know about—so her biker customers had come as a welcome distraction. But, as usual, she was now questioning her impulse.

“What was that all about?” he asked, nodding to the women behind her.

Living up to those brash Kimball genes was damn overwhelming sometimes. She shrugged. A girl’s gotta do… “Flash is a customer.”

Jack raised one black eyebrow. “Flash?”

She stepped out of his embrace, crossing her arms over her chest. “The brunette in the middle—the one with the blond streaks in her hair.”

“She’s a customer?” He smirked. “Somehow I don’t picture her seeped in lace and tradition.”

“Maybe she likes lace and tradition.”

Both eyebrows darted up. “I’m sure.”

Ha! She’d found another flaw. The man was quick to judge, dangerous, way too tempting and…leaving. Atlanta was his future. The perfect opportunity. Losing him wasn’t just an irrational fear of his job—it was assured.

Well, she didn’t want to win him anyway.

With her index finger, she poked Jack so hard in the chest he actually stumbled back, though only in surprise. “Look here, you arrogant, judgmental, luscious—”

Walking backward, he grinned. “Luscious?”

Blood red clouded her vision. “You egotistical, daredevil…man!” She drew a deep breath before continuing her tirade. “It’s been a really long week, and I don’t have the time or the inclination to explain to you the finer points of retail sales management, except to say you never…and I mean never prejudge a customer. The woman who walks through my front door wearing ripped blue jeans and a ratty T-shirt may have more money than the queen of England. Flash and her friends have the right to shop anywhere they please, regardless of what any close-minded creep thinks about their purchases!”

Jack’s jaw hardened. “Creep?”

Flash appeared at her side. “Problem, Skyler?”

Skyler spared a brief glance at her customer. “No. This is a personal thing.”

“Right. A problem.” Flash’s dark eyes narrowed. She advanced toward Jack, her gang flanking her. “He may look big, honey, but trust me the girls and I can handle him.”

“No. Really, I can—”

Before Skyler could finish, Flash swung.

Instinctively, Skyler stepped in front of Jack. The fist intended for Jack’s jaw landed squarely against Skyler’s left eye.

“Oh, damn,” she muttered just before she jolted backward against Jack’s chest and passed out cold.

“SKYLER…CAN YOU HEAR ME?” Jack’s voice sounded as if it was echoing down a long tunnel.

Skyler moaned, then blinked. She lay on the floor of the bar, with Jack’s arm cradling her neck. His handsome face loomed over her, along with Flash, her gang and several other people she didn’t recognize.

“Hey, Gus, how about some ice?” Jack suggested.

“Frozen peas are better,” someone said.

Flash shoved the speaker. “Where are we gonna get frozen peas, stupid?”

“Hey, babe,” the guy next to Flash said, his eyes narrowing, “don’t push him.”

Flash grabbed the front of his shirt. “Shut up!”

“Uh—” Skyler began, trying to raise her head, but the pounding around her eye forced her to lie back down.

Jack’s fiercely concerned face and wide chest suddenly blocked her view of the other people, though she could still hear Flash shouting at someone. “I’m gonna carry you to a booth, oui?” Caution darkened his eyes. After her tirade earlier, she could hardly blame him.

She tried to nod, found that hurt, so she mumbled, “Please.”

Held next to Jack’s firm, muscled chest two times in the same day, she marveled. Maybe her luck with men was changing. Right. Punched in the eye and near discovery of her secret. Her luck was changing all right, and not for the better.

Even though proximity to Jack was a bad idea and pain pulsed through her eye, she couldn’t help but inhale the smoky, spicy scent emanating from his skin. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, his muscles bunched, and she let him coddle her. An impulse she’d regret like so many others, no doubt.

When he placed her in the vinyl booth, she sighed with regret.

Gus handed Jack a plastic bag of crushed ice. “Try this.”

Jack laid the cold pack against her face, and she flinched. “Sorry.” He cradled her cheek in his palm. “It’ll help the swelling.”

“Swelling?” Perfect. She might never look in a mirror again. And how in the world was she going to explain this to her brothers?

Across the room several voices rose in volume, but Skyler had her own troubles at the moment, so she pushed aside the distraction. Now that the initial stinging from the ice had passed, the cold had numbed the area enough for her to think straight again.

She had to get out of here. Immediately. Quietly. Just after she gained the sworn silence of everyone in the bar. The black eye she would no doubt have in the morning would be hard enough to explain—maybe she could go for the old “walked into a door” story—but she couldn’t let her brothers find out about Jack’s connection to her injury. He’d get fired, or worse, thinking again of Boyfriend #2—the lake dweller. Glug, glug, glug…

Leaning sideways, she considered her need to protect Jack only briefly—she shouldn’t, couldn’t care—as she peered around his wide shoulders, hoping to spot a back door.

Instead, she saw Flash shove someone. Flanking their leader, her friends planted their fists on their hips. The men across from them leaned forward, their jaws jutted forward. The antagonists began circling each other. The other bar patrons backed away to watch. Money was exchanged.

Central Casting couldn’t have scripted a better rumble.

“I’m taking you to the firehouse,” Jack said. “I have meds and—”

Distracted from the alarming scene across the bar, Skyler blinked up at Jack. Then ground her teeth together from the pain of focusing. “I just want to go home.” The crowd cheered. God only knew what was happening with the fight. “Now.” She scooted by Jack out of the booth.

As she stood, the room spun. “Damn.” She held her arm out to balance herself. She was not going to faint again.

Jack’s strong arm slid around her waist. “Change of plans. You’re goin’ to the emergency room.”

“No.” Wesley and Steve knew—and had dated—nearly every nurse in the hospital. “I have Tylenol at home.”

Crash!

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the bar.

“What in the hell…” Jack began, obviously noticing the rumble for the first time.

“Terrific,” Gus said in disgust just as one of the men tossed a bowl of beer nuts at Flash. She retaliated by pouring a mug of beer over his head.

In one smooth, quick motion, Jack picked up Skyler and deposited her in the booth. “I’ll be right back.”

Before she could so much as blink—and the blinking hurt like hell—he’d started across the room.

What in the world was he doing? Skyler wondered in horror as she watched him stride purposefully into the fray. He’s a hero, remember? A reckless, foolish—

He ducked a handful of pretzels flying through the air, stepped over a puddle of chicken wing sauce, then grabbed the thrower by the front of his shirt, as Skyler stared in fascination. Flash charged toward him on the other side, but Jack merely held her back by grabbing her shoulder.

“Let’s all calm down,” he said.

A couple of guys in the crowd, not liking the interference, tossed nacho chips—cheese included—at Jack. The chips fluttered uselessly at his feet, but the thick, orangy sauce landed with a plop in his hair.

Skyler winced. That stuff was going to be nasty to get out when it dried.

The room fell silent for a second or two, then all hell broke loose.

Beer nuts flew. Chicken bones sailed. Chips crunched beneath boots. Shouts echoed off the walls. People slid through pools of cheese sauce and beer.

It was a smelly, slippery, icky mess. Skyler debated between throwing herself into the middle as the voice of reason, or remaining safely in the booth and laughing her fanny off.

“Anybody who smashes a glass gets arrested,” Gus shouted into the confusion.

Jack disappeared behind the bar for a few minutes, then returned with a mop and a bucket. He stood silently next to a stool, cheese dripping off his head, as if waiting for the melee to die down so he could deal with the mess.

She’d known the man less than a week. How could he cause such a roller coaster of pride and hilarity to race through her?

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” a familiar voice asked from the doorway.

Flinching, Skyler turned to face her brother.

THE VIEW FROM the Baxter City Jail wasn’t bad, Jack reflected.

The simple, tidy room contained just two battered oak desks—one manned by a bored-looking sergeant—a few vending machines and two cells. Other than the recent addition of a hall leading to some new offices, Jack didn’t have much trouble picturing the place occupied by Sheriff Taylor and Barney Fife of Mayberry.

Skyler paced the floor in front of him, her breasts bobbing with the movement, her worn jeans hugging her hips and thighs. Full of guilt, he wondered how much her eye hurt and if they could pick up at the kiss where they left off.

Of course they were on opposite sides of the bars, so that might be a bit difficult to accomplish at the moment.

“Don’t worry, Jack. I’ll get you out of there,” she said, holding a fresh ice pack to her eye as she turned, then started across the front of the cell again. “Gus is talking to Wes now. He’ll explain how you were trying to help.”

Jack clenched the bars in frustration. Trying to help didn’t seem like much comfort at the moment.

The fighting had ended amicably enough. At the appearance of the police, fighters and patrons alike had blinked innocently, dropped their chicken wings and chips and picked up their drinks as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Lieutenant Wesley Kimball had strolled in with calm authority, received a rundown of the events from a grateful Gus, then proceeded to take down the names of the ones who’d wrecked the bar owner’s property. Gus agreed not to press charges as long as the fighters cleaned up and paid for the food. Wes had even acknowledged Jack’s assistance in controlling the situation.

Until he noticed his precious baby sister’s swollen eye.

Then Jack and everyone else had been taken straight to jail—do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

“This is all your fault, man,” Mike, one of his fellow detainees, said grumpily.

Jack turned to stare at the man who’d brandished a bowl of beer nuts at him less than an hour ago. “My fault?”

“Yeah.” Mike’s jaw jutted forward. “You had to break up a perfectly good brawl.”

“Oh, shut up,” Flash said. “This is your fault. If you hadn’t thrown those nachos—”

“Pipe down in there,” the desk sergeant called from the other side of the room.

Flash and Mike turned their backs to one another.

Skyler laid her hands over Jack’s through the bars. “They can’t hold you if Gus doesn’t press charges, right?”

Her bright blue eyes were so liquid with worry he didn’t want to tell her the truth. At the very least, the police could charge any and all of them with disturbing the peace, destruction of property, attempted assault, actual assault, criminal mischief, etcetera, etcetera. And, frankly, he was more concerned that her brother was, right at this moment, plotting to pin everything from J.F.K.’s assassination to MonicaGate on him.

He stroked her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Everything will work out,” he said without much confidence.

“I’d back off, if I were you, Tesson,” Wes called from down the hall. “Going near my sister was what got you into this mess in the first place.”

Jack bit back his reply as Wes Kimball sauntered toward the cells, Gus trailing in his wake.

Skyler ran toward him. “You let Jack out of there right now, Wesley. This is outrageous! He tried to stop the fight.”

Wes smiled down at her, patting her on the head as he walked by.

Jack didn’t think dismissing Skyler was such a wise move—or was going to be quite so easy.

Skyler threw her ice pack on the floor and charged after him. With her red, swollen eye and I’ve-had-it-up-to-here expression, it looked as though the next casualty in this war would be Wes Kimball. “I’m warning you,” she said.

“Not now, Sky,” he said, his blue eyes, so like his sister’s, radiated anger as he stared at Jack. “Toss me those keys, Sergeant.” After unlocking the cell doors, he gestured in the direction he’d just come. “This way, Tesson.”

Rolling his shoulders, Jack walked out of the cell. It was time they had this out. His and Skyler’s relationship, if they even had one, was none of Wes’s business, but he’d dealt with hotheaded cops before and knew arguing would only egg him on. Jack intended to keep a hold on his already strained temper and show this jerk a thing or two about self-control.

His gut clenched as he preceded Wes down the hall, remembering the time his parents had been arrested in an animal rights protest, and he’d driven all night to Dallas to bail them out of jail.

They were halfway down the hall when Skyler joined them. “You’re not talking to Jack without me.”

Jack was suddenly reminded this was the woman who’d sacrificed herself for him. She’d instinctively stepped in front of Flash’s punch, telling him more about her strength and loyalty in one brief moment than he suspected most people learned in a lifetime. No one had ever done anything like that for him.

Wes sighed. “Come on, then. It’s time I found out what’s going on between you two anyway.”

Jack stiffened. He wanted to know what was going on, too. No doubt Wes thought he wasn’t good enough for his sister. And Wes certainly wasn’t the first.

They all entered a small, somewhat disorganized office with Wes’s nameplate half-buried beneath a pile of file folders on the desk. Wes indicated the two chairs in front of the desk for Jack and Skyler, while he sank into his swivel office chair. The position of authority. This was his interview.

Jack laid his arms along the armrests. Stay cool. He knew he could do so with Wes in a way he’d never manage with Skyler.

The lieutenant wasted no time getting to the point. “So, what’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing is going on,” Skyler said immediately, though her gaze darted to Jack’s, and he knew she was thinking about the kiss they’d shared on the dance floor.

“You two started a barroom brawl,” Wes said.

“We didn’t start anything. Flash did, and she was only—”

“Ah, yes. Flash.” Wes raised his eyebrows. “The biker chick who claims to be one of your customers.”

Comments like that were a bad idea. Jack knew from experience. But after an hour behind bars, he’d let the lieutenant learn that lesson for himself.

“My customers are none of your business,” Skyler said tightly.

Jack glanced from Skyler to Wes. What about calling him arrogant and egotistical?

Wes sliced his hand through the air. “Whatever. The point is she claims your black eye was intended for Jack. She said he was threatening you.”

Skyler rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. He was not.”

Though Jack appreciated her support, Wes’s eagerness to believe he was really a danger to her pissed him off. He leaned forward. “You really think I’m capable of threatening your sister?”

That suspicious lawman gaze flicked to Jack. “I don’t know you well enough to determine anything about your capabilities.”

At this rate, he never would, either. Wes Kimball had labeled him a troublemaker based on assumptions, guilt by association. Jack swallowed a tide of anger. “But you trust your brother, don’t you? Ben thought I was good enough for this town.”

“This isn’t about the town. It’s about my sister.”

Who I’ll never be good enough for. “I didn’t threaten Skyler. I didn’t start the fight. I didn’t hit anyone. I didn’t destroy any property. Do you have any witnesses who say different?”

“No,” Wes admitted, though he obviously regretted the lack of evidence.

“Then this meeting is over.” Jack rose from the chair, and he didn’t dare look at Skyler. He’d never been arrested over a woman, and he knew one look into her eyes would have him risking much more just to be near her.

Wes stood as well. He was nearly the height and breadth of Jack, but not quite. A difference that certainly didn’t please the lieutenant, who rested his right hand on the butt of the gun strapped to his waist.

“Skyler, I need to talk to Jack alone for a minute.”

“What for?” Skyler asked suspiciously, gazing up at the two men.

“A little man-to-man thing. You understand.” Smiling, Wes gestured toward the door.

“Does it concern me?”

“Yes.”

“Forget it.”

Wes shrugged. “Fine.” He directed his intense blue gaze at Jack. “Stay away from my sister, Tesson.”

Before Jack could do more than tighten his jaw, Skyler leapt to her feet. “Wesley Austin Kimball!” She leaned over the desk, her hands planted firmly in the center. “That’s the rudest—”

“He’s a firefighter, Sky,” Wes interrupted quietly.

Skyler’s gaze darted to Jack, then back to her brother, and Jack had the sinking sensation his job was a bad thing. Usually, women were impressed by his profession. But then she’d suffered a great loss at the hands of fire fighting.

“It’s a brother’s duty to look out for his sister,” Wes continued.

Skyler pressed her lips together. Then, after a penetrating glance in Jack’s direction, she addressed her brother. “You know how much I appreciate your concern, but I can handle this. I don’t need you to protect me from Jack.”

Wes frowned. “You realize if Ben finds out Jack will lose his job.”

Skyler shook her head.

Jack couldn’t help but wonder—did that mean he wouldn’t lose his job, or Ben wouldn’t find out, or there wouldn’t be anything to find out?

“Jack and I will work this out,” she said firmly to Wes. “I don’t want your interference.”

Wes continued to scowl and look puzzled as if Skyler spoke a foreign language, and Jack grinned. Confidence surged through him. If he’d ever had doubts Skyler was worth any risk, he shoved them aside.

Until she strode from the room.

“And don’t think I don’t know about that frat boy with the roses!” Wes called after her.

Skyler slammed the door.

Well, hell. The lady might be interested, but, clearly, he still had a long way to go.

Wes dropped back into his chair and propped his feet on his desk. “Well, ‘Wild Jack’ Tesson, I ran a make on you, you know.”

Wishing he didn’t so completely miss Skyler’s presence, Jack raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

Wes held up his hands. “All part of the background check when you applied for your job.” He paused. “You seem to have a tendency toward barroom brawls.”

“I don’t have any arrests on my record.”

Wes shrugged. “I asked around.”

And heard a lot of stories about his out-there parents and his own wild early years. “I was a bouncer in my grandparents’ bar. I broke up fights. I didn’t start them.”

“Just like tonight.”

Jack was through pretending to be easygoing. And he was through humoring Wes Kimball. He could understand the guy’s need to protect his sister, but not at his expense. Saying nothing, he walked to the door. As he turned the knob, Wes called his name.

He glanced over his shoulder.

Wes held up the arrest report. “Tell you what, Jack ole boy, you stay away from my sister, and I’ll rip this in half.”

Jack wasn’t too worried about being prosecuted, but he guessed Wes could hand his report over to the town council, who’d be less than thrilled to have their newest employee in trouble with the law. But after that kiss with Skyler, feeling the heat they generated, seeing the resolve in her eyes made him realize he had no intention of giving up on her. This little pissing contest between him and Wes wouldn’t discourage him.

Their relationship couldn’t last, he supposed. He’d be off to Atlanta soon, maybe even before she realized he wasn’t good enough for her.

But he had no intention of revealing any of that to Wes. He opened the door. “Keep your report. I’d rather have Skyler.”

“WHY IS MY LUCK so rotten, Monica?”

Checking the fit of her black satin bustier, panties, garter belt, stockings and four-inch, rhinestone-studded shoes in the wall of mirrors, the statuesque redhead sighed. “Skyler, honey, having to spend endless hours planning the Fourth of July celebration with Jack Tesson is good luck, not bad.”

“Humph. The last time I was with him I got punched in the eye, and he got arrested. What does everyone see in him anyway?” Skyler asked as if she hadn’t spent endless hours fantasizing about the luscious firefighter herself.

He’d caught her when she’d fainted, stood up to an entire bar of hostile people, he’d stood up to her brother. All to his detriment. No doubt Wes hadn’t listened to her request that he butt out of her relationship with Jack and had conspired with the mayor to give him the Fourth of July duty as punishment.

The whole mess had Skyler aroused, irritable and guilt-laden. The only positive thing that had happened over the past few days was the swelling around her eye had finally gone down, and she’d reaffirmed her resolve that interest in Jack was completely counterproductive. He was a firefighter. Dangerous and heroic. And leaving. Even Wes—who could be extremely hardheaded—recognized the mismatch. She, Ms. Paranoid Over Her Brothers’ Risky Professions, hot for a firefighter? Absurd. Ridiculous. Out of the question.

“He’s gorgeous, sexy and charming,” Monica said. “And that accent…whew.”

Okay, so maybe the entire female population of Baxter, plus Roland, had excellent taste, but Skyler fully intended to pretend otherwise. “Don’t let Wes hear you say that. He and Jack nearly came to blows the other night.” Wes and Monica had been dating for weeks—a record for her brother—and Skyler had hopes she’d finally have another woman in their testosterone-in-surplus family.

“They nearly came to blows over you. Isn’t that terrific?”

Skyler tugged the lace trim into place, then rose. “No.”

“I’d love to have two men fighting over me.”

“One of them was my brother,” Skyler reminded her friend, though she wouldn’t want two men fighting over her under any circumstance.

“Yeah, well, your brother certainly isn’t that passionate about defending me.”

“Of course he is. He’s crazy about you.”

“I’m not so sure.” Monica stepped onto the raised platform positioned in the center of the large dressing room. The track lighting enhanced her curvy figure and pale skin. She cocked her hip and smiled. “But this will help.”

Skyler walked around Monica, eyeing the fit of the racy lingerie with a critical eye. In the pink-and-gold decorated back room—her bold nod to whorehouse-chic—they had complete privacy to conduct the risqué business of the shop. Fiona had the day off, and Skyler had installed the new warning bell so she wouldn’t have to lock the door in the middle of the day.

“It’s not too tight around the bust?” Skyler asked.

“No, it’s perfect.”

Finally, Skyler smiled. “It certainly is. Wes is going to flip when he sees you in that.”

“I hope so,” Monica said, but she didn’t sound too certain.

“Chaud, chère,” a familiar male voice called from behind them.

Gasping, Skyler whirled.

“Hot, hot, hot,” Jack Tesson said, strolling boldly into the room.

Skyler blinked, hardly able to believe her eyes. The man had the worst timing of anyone on the planet. And why hadn’t her door alarm gone off?

Some inner protective instinct finally asserted itself. Move! it yelled. Cover this up quick, or the town council will know your dirty little secret by noon, and you’ll be out on your backside—leather, lace and all.

She grabbed Monica by the arm. “Let me handle this,” she muttered.

“Can I watch?” Monica asked, then laughed.

Skyler didn’t see anything to laugh about. She tugged her friend to a dressing stall, shoving the pink velvet curtain closed.

“Out,” she said, pointing at Jack as he hovered in the doorway.

He leaned one exceptional shoulder against the frame. “Oh, I like the view from here.”

From behind the curtain, Monica giggled.

Skyler seethed.

Jack held up his hand. “I’m leaving.” He backed from the room, pulling the door, though before the latch clicked shut, he stuck his head back inside. “I’m just dyin’ to find out about this special order, ’tite ange.” The door shut.

“Ooohhh.” Skyler stamped her foot. “That man! My life was perfectly normal until he got here.”

Monica shoved the curtain aside. “Your life wasn’t normal, babe, it was boring. There’s a difference.”

Staring at the door, Skyler bit her lip. What did he think? What would he say? Was there any possibility of bluffing her way out of this disaster?

“Well, go on,” Monica said as she pulled her clothes on over the merry widow. “I’ll go out the back while you handle him.” She grinned. “And I know just which parts of him I’d handle.”

“I need a plan, not sex.”

Monica just blinked.

“Even if I did want, think about, or ever consider sex with a man like him”—whose idea of work is battling through fire-engulfed houses, combating floods and contagious diseases and probably leaping over tall buildings in a single bound— “I’d have to sneak around my brothers to do it.”

Monica danced on one foot as she slipped off one four-inch stiletto heel. “So? You sneak around them anyway with the lingerie.” Shoving the shoes in her purse, she slid her feet into sandals—with only a three-inch heel. “Besides, I’m hoping to have one brother completely occupied—at least the moment he gets back from the law enforcement convention.”

Skyler started for the door. “That just leaves two.”

In the hall, leaning against the wall, lounged Jack Tesson, looking as if he planned to hang out all day.

Avoiding him, Skyler let Monica out the back door, then, stalling further in the desperate hope a brilliant explanation would occur to her, she locked the front door and flipped over the Closed sign. By the time she reached the counter, her hands had stopped shaking, and she was pretty sure her voice would sound normal. Bluff, bluff, then lie and bluff some more seemed the most prudent escape. She couldn’t lose her shop.

Jack had moved to sit on the counter, his long legs dangling just inches off the floor. “You got some great merchandise, chère.” He grinned. “Any more of those black things…” his gaze traveled the length of her “…in a bit smaller size?”

Heat stole through her body. The shaking started again, this time in her stomach. “Uh, no. A one-time-only order for a friend.”

“Right. What about the fancy dressin’ room?”

“It came with the building.”

“Come on, chère. I saw the boxes. Had to be at least four of ’em shoved against the wall.” He lifted one black eyebrow. “Bud’s Leather Palace? Lickable Lacies?”

Leather and edible underwear. Skyler let her head drop back. She was caught.