Her Reluctant Hero: A Romantic Suspense Boxed Set

by MJ Fredrick

  Because while she could tell herself this was only a one-night stand, she was already too attached. And there had been nothing casual about that sex.

  He shifted on the bed. “Peyton?” he called gruffly.

  “Over here.”

  “What’s wrong?” He rose up on his elbows. “Come back to bed.”

  She unfolded her legs and dug her toes into the shag carpet as if that would help her resist the pull of him. “I can’t sleep.”

  “Who said anything about sleep?” His voice was low and sexy, and remembering the feel of his mouth, his hands on her had everything female in her humming.

  God, why did she have no will where he was concerned? Why did she let her body rule her head?

  Okay, as long as it was just her body and head at war, she would be fine. When her heart got involved, she’d be in trouble.

  He held the covers up for her and she slid between them and into his arms. At the touch of his hands on her skin, her mind emptied and she gave herself over to the sensations.

  This time the languor of sleep dictated the pace. Hands coursed over bare skin, dipping, clutching, skimming. Breath escaped in sighs, then moans. Skin heated and dampened. By the time he entered her, she had no concept of place and time, only of Gabe and now. When she shattered and floated back in fulfillment she decided she could be happy with that.

  “It’s almost a shame to leave this lovely room,” Peyton teased as she packed her meager belongings in a brown paper sack, looking around the room decorated in early tacky, with orange shag carpet and black laminate furniture.

  “You mean you aren’t going to go home and redecorate in retro Halloween?” Gabe teased, swinging his pack on his shoulder.

  “Ha ha.” She stretched and cricked her back. “No matter how hard the mattress was, it beats sleeping on the ground.”

  He looped his arm over her shoulders and kissed her temple. “Imagine making love on the ground. We might want to keep your tent where it is, away from the rest of the crew.”

  Surprise flashed through her. There was a wealth of revelation in those words. He wanted to do this again, with her, and he wanted to keep her with his crew.

  He was talking about more than one night. She couldn’t think about a future, even of only a few more days. Last night had been a big enough step. “You said one shift.”

  “I thought—are you leaving already?” His voice was a smooth drawl, but his fingers tightening on his bag showed his tension. Clearly he thought she was here for the whole fire, maybe beyond.

  Her plan had been to leave today. She had her story. She’d never top the rescue of the scouts, the run up the mountain, being rescued by slurry. Never in her career.

  But there was the idea of the book. She just hadn’t worked out the details—like how to make a living while writing the book. She couldn’t go on to write other articles and focus on this. Did she want to make a living as a Hot Shot the rest of the summer? It wasn’t easy work. And she wasn’t sure she had what it took, especially after their brush with death.

  But she would be with Gabe, who wanted her. Gabe, who thought she was brave. Gabe, who could destroy her again.

  “I did want to get some pictures,” she hedged, unwilling to say no, unwilling to walk away from him. “My photographer is finishing up his training and will be here in a day or so.”

  “And then you’re going.” His voice was flat.

  “I hadn’t decided.” She turned to get her own bag. “I have to move on to the next story. And I have to write this one.” Successful journalists did it, moved from story to story. The one thing she’d found she was good at, even if it didn’t put her in the middle of the action, of the people. Which was the appeal of this career, at least for her.

  “What’s the next one?” There was a lack of curiosity in his tone.

  “I don’t know yet.” She forced a smile. “Nothing can top this adventure.”

  He stepped closer, cupped her head in his hand. “Give me a chance.”

  To top the adventure, he meant. But the longing in his eyes told her last night had been something more to him too. Why was she surprised? He’d been so, um, focused.

  God help her, she wanted to. Looking into his eyes, feeling his touch on her skin—when was the last time, other than last night, she’d done something without thinking of the cost? Could she risk starting now?

  If he knew her, the real her, would he still want her?

  “Gabe, we can’t—if I stay on your crew, we can’t—”

  His eyes were triumphant with his certainty she would stay. “Why not?”

  “I think what happened last night should stay here, not follow us back to camp,” she said. He set his bag on the dresser and leaned against the piece of furniture, arms over his chest, his posture deceptively casual.

  “Why?”

  “Well, the reason behind it. The sex.” She used the excuse of checking the bathroom for belongings as a reason to not look at him. “It’s an emotionally charged job—people react to the thrill and the danger.”

  When she turned back, he was staring at her. “You think that’s all this was?” He gestured toward the bed she’d insisted upon making.

  “No, of course not.” She shook her head vehemently. If that was all it had been, would she be so reluctant to push him away now? “But let’s face it. It probably wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t nearly been killed up there.”

  Her throat squeezed. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the memory of running for her life or the idea she might not have spent the night in Gabe’s arms without living through it.

  “You didn’t even like me when we started out. All I’m saying is, let’s not put too much energy into thinking about what might happen between us, because worrying about it may just be a waste of time and energy.”

  “God, you sound like a guy.” Gabe pushed the words out of a tight throat. He hadn’t expected her to be the kind to throw up barriers after last night. He hadn’t expected her to be all clingy either, but, damn, this wait-and-see attitude was throwing him for a loop. Sure she was leaving, eventually, but wasn’t that all the more reason to seize the moment?

  She was right, at least partly. He hadn’t liked her until he was forced to spend time with her, but now he admired the hell out of her.

  There’d been entire stretches out there on the mountain where he’d forgotten she was a reporter altogether, even before she’d been in his bed. Dangerous behavior. He’d been burned before when he let his guard down. It was just so hard to keep it up around Peyton. His guard, that was.

  What had happened here last night? It had been more than two people relieving stress, more than two people reveling in being alive. They’d both found something they hadn’t known they’d been looking for.

  He hadn’t opened himself to a woman since Jen, hadn’t trusted his own judgment after she left him. Could he trust his own judgment now? Peyton’s reluctance made him more uneasy. Only on the fire line was he sure of his actions, his decisions.

  He captured a strand of Peyton’s hair between his fingers, sensing a connection with this woman, a kind of pain beneath the surface.

  He couldn’t be so off to think last night hadn’t been extraordinary for her as well. She’d erupted like she’d been holding something back for a while. Last night neither of them had held anything back.

  So what was wrong?

  Then it hit him. He wasn’t sure what had blinded him to it before, especially with his past experience.

  “You got someone waiting for you?” he asked, as if it wouldn’t matter.

  She whipped around in shock. “No! Do you think I would have—?” She gestured to the bed. “No! God, Gabe.”

  “Why not?”

  She spluttered, so he had to clarify.

  “I mean, why don’t you have someone? You’re a pretty girl, and you’re smart, and—”

  She broke away from him to stare out the window. Funny how she was damn quick to ask questions, but didn
’t care to answer them. He was stewing about the double standard when she finally spoke.

  “I was married. Before.”

  The words hit him like a hammer in the chest. He hadn’t expected it, but couldn’t say why. She wasn’t a kid. But hell, she’d walked away from all those jobs. Had she done the same to her marriage? He didn’t know what to say, except, “You still love him. You think you might go back to him?”

  She lifted both hands to her head, like she was holding herself together. “No, he died. Nineteen months ago.”

  Gabe felt a rush of relief at the same time he felt idiotic about his assumptions. Like he needed proof he was an asshole. “I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head as if she’d heard those words so many times they’d lost all meaning. “It was another lifetime.”

  He folded and unfolded his hands on the dresser behind him, wanting to hold her, not sure he should. Not sure he should ask, but he did. “How did he die?”

  She sucked in a deep breath. “He was on the SWAT team. First through the door, every time. The last time someone was waiting for him.”

  Though he sensed what was coming, the words hit hard. “God.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself. He hated seeing her in pain, wanted to stop the flow his question had brought.

  “They’d staked out a chop shop for months and were ready to bring it down.” She gave a little laugh. “Bring it down. I even talk like he did. Anyway, it was totally by the book, the flashbangs, the count. Dan was first through the door, except someone was coming out. They shot him in the face a second after he came in.”

  Gabe didn’t have the best imagination, but damn, those words brought a chilling picture to his mind. He wondered how good of an imagination she had, how forthcoming the police department would have been with those details, and a thought struck him.

  “You were there.”

  “I was.” The words were rough. “I was new at the paper, where I worked before I got this job, writing, which I knew I could love. I wanted to make a splash, and I was following a scoop, so I went to the chop shop with my photographer. I didn’t know I’d end up as the story, screaming over the death of my husband.”

  Had she pulled further away or had he? There was a definite chasm between them, painful after last night. But if he was honest, she hadn’t opened herself to him last night.

  He hadn’t opened himself to her completely, either, but more than he had to any other woman since Jen.

  She choked, and he couldn’t bring himself to reach for her.

  “Dan knew I was there. He was mad about it. But he was usually so focused. I didn’t think I was putting him in danger. If I’d listened—” She swallowed, looked down at her hands. “I loved him.” Her voice was thinner, higher, a ghost of the voice of the woman he knew. “He settled me down in a way nothing else could. I mean, we were thinking about having kids. He wouldn’t have been the same person if he hadn’t been a cop, if he hadn’t been so good at it, committed. It made my life hard, but he loved who he was. It gave him this confidence, this belief in himself that he was invincible.”

  Gabe knew something about that. “I guess there are people who have to do this kind of job to make them feel like they’re alive.”

  “Except it’s an easy way to get not alive anymore.” She took a deep breath, drawing back tears. They rattled in her throat. “They gave him a hero’s burial, a twenty-one-gun salute. I have the flag from his casket. After he died, well, I woke up. I had to find a focus or drown.”

  He pictured her at the graveside, too young to be a widow. Had anyone been with her to comfort her? Or had she been alone?

  “What about the guy who killed him?” He turned the conversation, needing it to be about results instead of questions. “Did they catch him?”

  “He’s still awaiting trial.”

  “After nineteen months?”

  “Justice is a slow process.” She gave him a sad little Mona Lisa smile. “It just doesn’t matter now. It won’t bring Dan back.”

  “And you writing these articles? It’s because of him?”

  She nodded. “All because of him.”

  Guilt. It made you do things you never thought you’d do. But as Gabe pulled the hotel door shut behind them, he wished he didn’t know she’d wanted her husband to be someone he wasn’t.

  Chapter Ten

  The rest of the crew sat at a long table, eating breakfast, when Peyton and Gabe came downstairs. The only two empty chairs were not together. One, at the head, was clearly meant for Gabe, because Kim sat beside it, and the other in the middle of the group on Kim’s side. Peyton started toward it, but Gabe caught her hand and led her to the head of the table.

  “Move down one,” he said, and two firefighters beside Kim shifted to new chairs.

  An expression of betrayal froze Kim’s face. Gabe tilted his head in expectation, and Kim glanced at their joined hands, then shot Peyton a heated look before doing as Gabe asked. Peyton’s shoulders were tense as she took Kim’s chair. So much for fitting in with the crew. She’d known that would be a side effect of her decision last night, but hadn’t realized Gabe would advertise their relationship. He sure didn’t seem the type.

  The rest of the crew were quiet a minute, taking in the change, but conversation resumed when a new waitress brought them breakfast menus.

  “It doesn’t mean anything, you know,” Kim said, leaning slightly toward Peyton when Gabe was distracted in conversation with Howard. “He’s slept with all of us. You’ll just be the favorite till someone new comes along.”

  Peyton knew that wasn’t true. Too much emotion had passed between them last night for him to be a player. Still, she let her gaze wander the table. “Who was the favorite before me?”

  Oh, way to antagonize, Peyton. Kim’s hand folded into a fist.

  “I was.”

  Right. In her dreams. Peyton tried not to show her alarm at the younger woman’s anger.

  “Then I guess I’ll just have to enjoy it till someone new comes along.”

  But her hands were shaking from the confrontation as she stirred her coffee.

  Their time away from camp, and the drain of her confession, made their return feel like they’d stepped into a slow-motion dream. Peyton wasn’t sure if the camp itself had changed or only her perception of it. She sensed no energy, no excitement, none of the confidence in the firefighters she’d experienced when she first arrived.

  Filthy men and women milled around as though wading through water. They looked at Peyton and Gabe with bloodshot eyes and grim faces, as if sensing and resenting they’d gotten a full night’s sleep in a real bed.

  Jen appeared worst of all when they found her outside the strategy tent. For the first time, Peyton studied Jen woman to woman. The stress of the job had her pale and drawn. Her years of outdoor activity had honed a strength in her no gym could duplicate. Her masculine attire belied her natural beauty, her golden blonde hair swept back efficiently but the style only served to accent an elegantly boned face. Peyton didn’t have nearly as much trouble picturing Gabe and Jen together as she had hoped.

  “Where’ve you two been?” Jen asked irritably, walking back into the tent without waiting for an answer.

  “We had a few hours’ leave coming,” Gabe responded, following. Peyton debated her role here a moment, especially since Gabe hadn’t said much after her revelation, then trailed after them.

  Jen swiped an escaping lock of hair back from her face. “Right, yeah. I forgot. That seems like a year ago.”

  “That bad?” he asked, almost solicitous. Peyton felt dizzy with envy at the history between them, and wondered why. She’d only known Gabe a handful of days, and was jealous of a past she hadn’t been a part of? Who knew she had a possessive streak?

  “I just found out the president is coming to assess the situation.”

  “The president?” Gabe echoed.

  “Coming here?” Peyton asked, her reporter instincts kicking in.

&n
bsp; Jen glanced at Peyton, having clearly forgotten she was there. “Yeah, specifically to Bounty.

  They want me to brief him, and at the same time they’re beefing up security, so it’s harder for crews and supplies to get through, as if I didn’t have enough to worry about.” She stopped and regarded them quizzically. “I’m surprised you guys didn’t have any trouble getting back in.”

  “One of my crew was on the road to vouch for me,” Gabe said. “I thought it was a little weird. The president, huh?”

  “Yeah, well, if we were getting the job done, he wouldn’t have to come out. And then— Jesus.” Jen’s hand was shaking as she pushed back her hair. When Jen looked up at Gabe, her eyes were dark with pain. “I may as well tell you. You’ll find out anyway. Doug’s been arrested.”

  The words bucked Peyton’s heart, but Gabe merely smiled. Peyton turned to him, amazed at his lack of sensitivity. “Another bar fight?”

  “No!” Jen choked the word out, waving her hand in front of her in a release of pent-up energy. “They think he started this fire.”

  “What?” Gabe’s tone sharpened as his body snapped to attention and he rounded the table to Jen’s side. “Why would they think that?”

  Peyton watched Jen gather herself, square her shoulders, swallow her tears. She was working hard not to show weakness to Gabe. Her voice, when she spoke again, was steady, businesslike. “They found the point of origin. They found a drip torch—his drip torch, with his fingerprints—and footprints they say are his.”

  “How could they find footprints or fingerprints?” Peyton asked, thinking of the moonscapes she’d seen on the mountain, when nothing was left.

  “In a forest fire, you look for the area of least destruction, because the fire burned away from the point of origin, moving uphill,” Jen said wearily. “It left the evidence behind.”

  “But Doug’s experienced. He wouldn’t have left evidence.” Peyton worked it through, letting the thoughts come out of her mouth without censoring them. Way to go, Peyton.

  Gabe pivoted toward her, his expression closed, as it had been the first day she had joined his crew. “He didn’t do this.”