He grabbed her free hand and tugged her closer, his arm sliding behind her. “Nicole, this is AJ. Alec’s wife. She’s a reporter.”
Nicole’s eyes darted to his, curiosity clear in their depths. She turned to AJ, smiling in greeting.
“You should show her your pictures. She might be able to help get you some work or something.”
“Oh. Uh—” Nicole tensed, shooting him a panicked look as she pulled the camera further behind her.
“Like I told Mat, no guarantees. But I can look. There might be some freelance opportunities available, I’ll have to check with my editor. And the team’s blog always needs pictures. They don’t pay, of course, but it’s a way to get some photo credits.”
“Wow. Thank you. That would be—” Nicole shot him another look, some of the panic leaving her eyes, then turned back to AJ. “That would be great, thanks. I can send some over—”
“No, show her the ones you took today.”
She turned, still trying to hide the camera. “I don’t think—”
But Mat had been expecting that. He snatched the camera from her hand, grinning at the shocked expression on her face when he handed it to AJ.
“Mat, no!” Nicole reached for it with a surprised gasp but it was too late, AJ already had it, raising it up so the other girls could see, too.
“Oh my.”
“Wow.”
“Um, yeah. Wow.”
Mat watched them, studying their reactions, waiting to hear how impressed they were with what Nicole had done. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close, feeling the tension and anxiety running through her. Of course she was anxious but that would change, as soon as she heard how impressed everyone was.
“What do you think? I told you they were good.”
“Yeah, they’re uh—” AJ cleared her throat, a slow smile spreading across her face. Bridget placed her hands over AJ’s, moving the camera closer so she could see better.
“No, wait. Flip back, I want to see that one again.” She smiled, her eyes darting to Mat’s before moving back to the camera. “Oh yeah. These are definitely better than what I was expecting.”
He tightened his arm around Nicole, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Relax, baby. They like them. I knew they would.”
“Mat, I don’t think—”
“What are you guys looking at it? Are those the pictures from today?” Derek moved behind Bridget, leaning over her shoulder to get a better look.
“Yeah. I thought—”
“No, they’re not.” Nicole’s strangled words cut him off. He looked down at her, confused, not understanding why her face had gone from pink to an alarming red.
“What’s not what?”
“The, uh, the pictures.” Nicole inched closer, her face practically buried in his chest now, her voice muffled. “They’re not from today.”
“Oh.” He shrugged. “Well, that doesn’t matter. They can still see—”
“Holy shit. What the fuck? Give me that.” Derek grabbed the camera from the women, his hands fumbling with the buttons before he finally just shoved it at Mat. “What the hell are you trying to do, Herron? Christ, you don’t just…and then…and you…really? You? Of all people? What the fuck?”
“Dude, what’s your problem? They’re just pictures.”
“I don’t give a fuck. You don’t go showing your shit around like that. What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Mat narrowed his eyes at Derek, wondering why he was cussing like that in front of the women. That wasn’t like him, not at all. “Dude, seriously, you need to watch your language.”
“You’re going to jump on me about my language after that—that—” Derek swallowed, glanced around at the women, then looked back at Mat. “That stuff I just saw? I need bleach for my eyes now.”
“I don’t know, I liked them.” Kayli’s clear voice was tinged with laughter and appreciation. Her eyes met his, raked down his body, looked away.
“Oh yeah, definitely.” Emily looked straight at him, her eyes bright.
Bridget laughed, ignoring the outraged look on Derek’s face as she gave Mat a sly playful smile. “Definitely a side of you I’ve never before.”
“A side we never expected to see,” AJ added. The four women looked at each other, wide smiles on their faces, then started laughing.
Discomfort settled over Mat, coupled with a niggling feeling that something wasn’t quite right. He glanced down at the camera in his hand, suddenly afraid to look at it. It didn’t help that Nicole was glued against his side, her eyes squeezed shut, her face a bright red.
“Uh—” He swallowed and looked down at the camera again. Against his better judgment, he brought it up to his face and thumbed the power button on, then groaned when he saw the screen.
No, the pictures definitely weren’t from today. They were from the other night, picture after picture. Of him. Posing. Playing. Full body shots and close-ups. Close-ups of everything, from his eyes—all the way down to his hands, wrapped around his cock.
Mat powered the camera off, his face burning when he realized what the four women had been looking at. He shifted and looked around, not quite able to meet anyone’s eyes as embarrassment surged through him.
Well hell. What should he do now?
Because it wasn’t embarrassment surging through him. Embarrassment had never caused his cock to harden and throb with need.
And there was no doubt Nicole felt it. How could she not, pressed against him as tightly as she was? He felt a shiver go through her, felt her body soften and warm in response. He eased away, just enough so he could claim her mouth in a searing kiss that left them both breathless.
“Really, Herron?” Derek repeated, his voice a little strangled. “You need a new nickname, because you sure as hell aren’t a saint.”
He looked over at Derek, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You’re right, I’m not.” Mat wrapped his hand around Nicole’s and turned, heading back to the house.
“Where are you going?” Derek’s voice could barely be heard above the feminine whistles and catcalls that followed them.
Mat didn’t bother looking back when he answered, didn’t even break stride. “Inside. For another photo shoot.”
Epilogue
Nicole sat back in the chair, studying the picture, her mind’s eye choosing and rejecting different edits. It was an action shot, a close-up of Kenny Haskell boarding a player from Colorado in the Banners’ last pre-season game. His face was twisted in fierce concentration, the camera capturing the stark lines of his cheeks and jaws, the sharp curves of his mouth above his opponent’s shoulder, shoved up against the glass.
Nicole shook her head. The picture didn’t need any edits. It was perfect just as it was. She saved it in her game picture file then opened her email program, surprised to see she had so many new emails. They could wait, at least until she got this one sent out first.
She composed a quick email, adding a few lines of text to accompany the picture, then hit send. Accomplishment filled her and she smiled, still not quite able to believe all the changes that had happened so quickly.
AJ had given her the name of the team’s blog, Banners Bytes, an unofficial online blog that covered the team’s practices and games and everything else in between. She had sent them a few pictures and quickly received an invitation to submit whatever photos she had relating to the team. Mat had arranged for her to attend the open sessions of training camp, where she received a quick and brutal lesson on the game itself, on the physical demands made of the players.
And she had captured it on camera, focusing on what the other photographers there seemed to miss. It had been enough to secure her a spot as a permanent contributor to the blog.
No, it didn’t pay. But she was doing what she loved and getting credit for it. She couldn’t ask for more.
Her laptop beeped, signaling another email. They’d been coming more frequently as people wrote to her, commenting on her photos. Some o
f them were a bit disturbing, like the ones from some women asking for pictures they had no right to be asking for, as if Nicole somehow had full behind-the-scenes access to the showers and locker rooms. Mat had just laughed and told her to ignore them, explaining that all the players received requests like that—or worse.
So that’s what she did. Ignored and deleted.
She opened the latest email, wondering if it was going to be more of the same. Her eyes skimmed it but the words didn’t make sense. Not at first.
She squeezed her eyes, thinking maybe she’d been at the computer too long, that she was seeing things. She read the email again, then read it a third time, her heart thundering in her chest.
The door downstairs opened and she heard Mat call her name. Nicole jumped from the chair and raced downstairs, almost slipping on the last one. Mat caught her just before she would have fallen, his arms strong around her waist as he swung her against him.
“I got it. I got it!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his for a quick kiss.
“Got what?”
“A chance at freelancing. I just got the email. They saw my pictures on the blog, want to see what else I have.”
“That’s fantastic! I told you that you could do it.” Mat pressed his mouth to hers, the kiss a little longer, a little deeper this time.
“Yes, you did.” She kissed the corner of his mouth, down along his jaw, the stubble tickling her lips. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For believing in me. For telling me I could do it.” She pressed herself even closer, feeling his body respond against hers as she dragged her mouth along his neck, nipping at the corded muscle.
“I love you, Nicole. Of course I believe in you.” His voice had lowered, becoming a little thicker, a little hoarser as she dragged her hands down his chest and grabbed the hem of his shirt, lifting it up so she could place a kiss on his chest, over the exquisite dragon tattooed there. Over his heart.
“I love you, too. So much.”
Mat leaned forward, his mouth claiming hers, hot, spicy, full of need and desire. But then he pulled away, his small groan echoing hers, and grabbed her hands, tugging her into the living room. “This calls for a celebration.”
“Oh yeah? What do you have in mind?”
“Close your eyes.”
She raised her brows, silently asking why. But he shook his head, a grin on his face, so she did as he asked. She heard him move, heard paper rustling and what sounded like plastic or metal clicking. Curiosity pulsed through her and she squeezed her eyes tighter, not wanting to spoil whatever surprise he had planned.
Especially not when his surprises generally left her gasping for air and screaming his name as pleasure ripped through her.
“You ready?”
“Hmm, yeah.” God, was that her voice, so husky, filled with need? Yes, it was. Only Mat did this to her, made her feel this way. Needy. Alive, special. Cherished. Loved.
“Good.” He stepped closer, the heat from his body reaching out, caressing her skin. “Go ahead, open your eyes.”
She did, expecting…she wasn’t sure what. She blinked, her eyes trying to focus on the object Mat was holding out to her. Recognition slowly dawned and she looked up at him, her mouth parted in surprise. He couldn’t be serious.
Could he?
“Since you’re becoming a hotshot photographer now, I thought maybe you should expand your horizons, learn how to work with video.” A shy grin spread across his face, along with the barest hint of a blush. “What do you think?”
Nicole answered his grin with one of her own then reached for the video camera he was holding. His eyes darkened, the green becoming even deeper, fluid and enchanting, cloaking her in sorcery. In desire.
Then he stepped back, waiting as she brought the camera to her eye, learning the controls, adjusting the focus.
Zooming in on his hands, closer as he reached for the button of his jeans, as he tugged at the zipper, each movement slow, deliberate. Enticing. Promising.
And Nicole wondered, not for the first time, how anyone could have ever confused her dragon for a saint.
*****
ONCE BURNED
Firehouse Fourteen Book 1
Michaela Donaldson had her whole life planned out: college, music, and a happy-ever-after with her first true love. One reckless night changed all that, setting Michaela on a new path. Gone are her dreams of pursuing music in college, replaced by what she thinks is a more rewarding life. She’s a firefighter now, getting down and dirty while doing her job. So what if she’s a little rough around the edges, a little too careless, a little too detached? She’s happy, living life on her own terms—until Nicky Lansing shows back up.
Nick Lansing was the stereotypical leather-clad bad boy, needing nothing but his fast car, his guitar, his never-ending partying, and his long-time girlfriend—until one bad decision changed the course of two lives forever. He’s on the straight-and-narrow now, living life as a respected teacher and doing his best to be a positive role model. Yes, he still has his music. But gone are his days of partying. And gone is the one girl who always held his heart. Or is she?
One freak accident brings these two opposites back together. Is ten years long enough to heal the physical and emotional wounds from the past? Can they reconcile who they were with who they’ve become—or will it be a case of Once Burned is enough?
Turn the page for an exciting peek at ONCE BURNED, available now.
“Oh shit,” Mike repeated under her breath, too horrified to do anything more than force herself to breathe. Not an easy task, considering she was literally frozen to the spot. The air was thick with heated tension and the buzzing in her ears made it impossible for her to hear anything. She willed herself to move, to do something.
Shit, it’s Nicky. Shit, it’s Nicky. The phrase kept spinning through her mind until she thought she’d be sick with the dizziness of it. Her chest heaved with the effort to breathe and her pulse beat in a tap dancer’s rhythm.
Did anyone else notice the sudden change in the room? Mike forced herself to look away from that face from her past and quickly glanced around. Four sets of eyes fixed on her with varying degrees of bewilderment. She could still feel his eyes on her, too, filled with stunned disbelief.
Feeling like she was trapped in a nightmare where everything moved with the speed of molasses, Mike pushed away from the counter and walked across the room, straight past the frozen figure of Nicky Lansing and through the swinging door. She turned a corner and rushed through a second door that opened into the engine room, not stopping until she reached the engine on the far side, where she promptly collapsed on the back step.
Heedless of the dirt and grime, she let her head drop against the back compartment door, ignoring the length of hose line in her way. Her breathing came in shallow gasps that did nothing to help the lightheadedness that caused black dots to dance across her closed lids.
Hyperventilating. She was hyperventilating. The calm, rational part of her—she was surprised she still had one—told her to lean forward, to get a grip on herself and her breathing. Now bent over, sitting with her head between her knees, Mike grabbed the running board with both hands and concentrated on the feel of the diamond plate cutting into her palms.
The spots faded away and her breathing slowed to something closer to normal. One last deep breath and she straightened, only to choke on a scream when she came face-to-face with Jay, his brows lowered in a frown as he studied her with concern.
“Jesus! Don’t scare me like that!” She pushed him away then stood, only to sit back down when she realized how bad her knees were shaking.
“Scare you? What is wrong with you? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I couldn’t be better! Don’t I look fine?”
“You look like you’re ready to pass out. What the hell is going on? Do you know that guy? He looks like he’s seen a ghost!”
“He probably thinks he has.” Mike
moved over and motioned for Jay to sit down, ignoring his scrutiny as he twisted sideways and continued staring at her.
“Are you going to explain that?”
“No.” She ran her hands through her hair, muttering when she pulled a thick hank of it loose from the pony tail. Sighing, she reached back and pulled the elastic band loose, then quickly rearranged her hair into a more secure hold. Jay watched her intently then nudged her leg with his when she continued to ignore him.
“Well?”
“Well nothing. He’s just somebody I used to know, that’s all.”
Jay snorted. “Bull.”
“Okay, fine,” she conceded grudgingly. “He’s also somebody I never wanted to see again.” Mike reached down and gingerly touched her right side, trying not to remember but unable to forget. If Jay noticed the motion, he didn’t say anything.
They sat in silence, the familiar background noises of the station virtually unnoticed. A few minutes went by before Jay spoke again. “You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
Mike shook her head, ready to make a sarcastic reply when the sound of footsteps echoed through the engine room. The steps paused, then changed directions and hesitantly walked around the side of the engine. Mike knew without looking who it was: the steps were those of a stranger, someone who didn’t know his way around.
Nicky stopped at the back of the engine, not saying anything as Jay slowly stood and positioned himself slightly in front of Mike, shielding her. She touched his arm briefly, in a gesture both of thanks and of reassurance that she was alright. Jay looked back at her, one brow cocked in question, then reluctantly walked away at her nod. Mike didn’t see where he went but knew that he would be close by in case he was needed.
She stood slightly, leaning against the running board, then crossed her arms in front of her, covering the jagged scar that ran along her left forearm. The stance was as close to aloof and detached as she could manage considering her insides were making a milkshake of her early dinner. Too late, she remembered the sunglasses hanging around her neck and wished she would have thought to put them on to hide any emotion in her eyes.
Shoot Out (The Baltimore Banners Book 7) Page 21