Burning for You

by Dunaway, Michele

  “Okay, it’s easier if we can use my mom’s garage. I’m house sitting. I store my stuff there, and it’s great light. I’ll text you the address. You can forward it along.”

  “Okay.”

  “Oh, and I’ve scheduled your family photos for the start of next month. Your mother said you’re off.”

  “If not, I will be,” Joe confirmed. He lifted a pencil, twisted it in his free hand.

  “Perfect. Anything else?”

  Joe tightened his grip on his cell phone. Yes. There was more. She was the first female in a long time that made him consider risking rejection, made him consider dipping his toe in the dating pool. “No. Thanks again for helping me with this.”

  “No problem,” Taylor said. She hesitated the briefest of seconds, but he heard it. Felt it. “Bye Joe.”

  Joe swiveled his hand, pressing the power button and watching the screen go black. What would he have said? Hey, I told Reid he couldn’t ask you out. I didn’t like that he even thought about it. The guys think I should date more. Chris got engaged. I’ve thought of nothing but how I should have kissed you. Joe stuck the pencil back into the holder with a vicious shove.

  “Did that pencil do something wrong?”

  “Nah,” Joe told Chris, who stood in the open doorway. “I assume lunch is ready?”

  “Come and get it before Kyle eats it all. You know how he is with spaghetti.”

  Joe rose. “Spaghetti again?”

  Chris shrugged. “It’s all I can make. Boil noodles and open a jar of sauce. Bake the preseasoned bread at three fifty.”

  “You’re pathetic.”

  “Which is why I’m marrying a woman who can cook.” Chris tapped his forehead. “See, I’m thinking. She’s also really good at—”

  “No need for the details,” Joe said.

  “I was going to say baking. She dropped off a cake while we were out. Where was your mind, lieutenant? On those pink panties, I bet.”

  “Keep it up and you may not make it to that wedding,” Joe threatened as they entered the common room. The aroma of simmering sauce and garlic bread permeated the space. “At least it smells good.”

  “Ye of little faith,” Chris said, stepping aside so Joe, who was his superior, could go first.

  As Joe grabbed a plate, he realized perhaps that that was the heart of the matter—faith.

  He could rush into a burning building and take on a man in the boxing ring. But when it came to women, he was literally once burned and twice shy.

  No amount of misguided faith would change that.

  Chapter Seven

  So this is where Taylor had grown up. Joe drove down the cul-de-sac directly across from Ursuline Academy and parked in the driveway of a ranch house in the middle of the block. As he exited, he heard the roar of the train that rumbled down the tracks directly behind her childhood home.

  She opened the door as if she’d been waiting for him. “Hi.”

  “Hey,” he said, drinking her in. Her blonde ponytail swished, and he couldn’t help notice the tank top that showcased her assets and the blue jean shorts that showed off long, shapely legs. Open-toe sandals revealed toenails painted hot pink. A dormant part of his libido stirred. “Can I get you anything? Soda? Iced tea? Lemonade? Beer? Water? My mom stocked up.”

  He knew exactly what he wanted from her, but said instead, “Ice water would be great.” Remain professional, he chided himself, trying to ignore how tempting she was.

  “No problem.” Taylor moved with ease in the all-white cabinetry, stainless steel appliance kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it from an automatic dispenser on the refrigerator. “You aren’t allergic to cats, are you?”

  As if on cue, the two Himalayans she’d told him about appeared. “Those are Yin and Yang.” He arched an eyebrow and she laughed. “I know. My mom’s unique that way. It’s part of her charm. Plus, every winter she practiced her figure skating on the pond across the street until some school official finally put up a sign forbidding any skating. It was sad. The kids would also hold pick-up hockey games there.”

  “Did you go to Ursuline?”

  “Kirkwood. Ursuline would have been convenient, but I was quite boy crazy and Kennedy was too far.” Kennedy was a co-ed Catholic school. “Besides, Kirkwood had a great journalism program, and that’s where I fell in love with photography.”

  “Yearbook staff.”

  “Photo editor and proud to be a yerd.” Her grin widened as she handed him the glass. “Yearbook nerd. Follow me. Garage is this way. I’ve got everything set up.”

  As Joe stepped into the garage, he saw she’d chosen a gray backdrop, which she’d rolled ten feet onto the concrete.

  “Hello?”

  “Back here,” Joe answered. Two women came into view. Joe introduced them. “Taylor, this is Laura and her mother Amanda.”

  “Hi, Taylor.” Amanda reached out her hand.

  An impish seven-year-old with red hair pointed to the backdrop. “Is that where I’m going to stand?”

  “Why yes, it is.” Taylor nodded and reached for her camera. Joe caught her by the shoulder, leaned, and whispered in her ear. He’d seen the shocked expression she’d quickly masked.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  No, she wasn’t okay, Taylor thought. She’d never been one for surprises, and she’d assumed they were starting with Joe’s sister, not this young child who’d clearly suffered a great deal. Taylor, admittedly shaken, leaned into Joe’s shoulder, her face turned away from where Laura was chatting happily with her mother. That way they couldn’t see her shock or the tears that threatened. She inhaled a comforting breath, drawing in his unique woodsy scent. He calmed her, she realized. “I thought we were starting with Susie.”

  “Laura’s off for vacation, and she and her family are leaving for Maine. They’ll be gone over a month, so I figured we needed to get this done.”

  She fiddled with the camera, regaining control. “She’s so young.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t prepare you better.”

  Taylor didn’t answer, but instead turned back to Laura. “You ready to be a model?”

  “Yes!” Laura shouted, her enthusiasm contagious. “Models are beautiful.”

  “You are beautiful,” Taylor said, meaning every word.

  Laura’s hazel eyes became saucers. “Really?”

  “Absolutely. Now let’s prove it.” Taylor smiled at the girl whose wrinkled face revealed that she’d had multiple surgeries to repair horrific burns that traveled down one side of her face and down her neck. “The camera never lies, Laura, so all I’ll need you to do is follow the directions.”

  Laura made a pose. “I’m good with directions.”

  “I can see you are.”

  Two hours later, once Laura and her mom had left, Taylor opened the refrigerator and withdrew two bottle of Schafly’s Pale Ale. She handed one to Joe and passed over an opener. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

  “Here, by the looks of the microwave,” Joe said, popping the top. “Good work today.”

  “Thanks.” She drew down a long swallow. She’d thought weddings were draining. Those were a piece of cake compared to this. Several times, like when she’d photographed the newborns that night at the hospital, she’d bitten back tears.

  Joe took a long drink and clinked his bottle to hers. “You were fantastic. Did you see how happy Laura was? While you were putting away your camera, Amanda told me how impressed she was.”

  “Good to know.” He stood so close, mere inches away. Taylor’s hand shook as she lifted the bottle again. “I thought I could handle this.”

  “You did. You made Laura feel beautiful. Special. Just like that mother in the hospital.” He reached forward, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You have a gift that way. That’s why I asked you for your help. Why you are so perfect … for this project.”

  She’d heard that little pause, and her body liked the way his hand stroked the side of her cheek. She faced him. “
Tell me it becomes easier.”

  “What?”

  “Easier,” she repeated, leaning her cheek into his hand.

  His brow wrinkled. “The photos? You were great. Or are we talking about something else?”

  She didn’t even know. His touch had short-circuited her nervous system. Her emotions were all over the place. “She was so young.”

  “Hot grease. She pulled a frying pan off the stove, and it crashed down over her face. Today helped ease some of Amanda’s guilt.”

  He set his beer on the counter and drew her into his arms. “Come here. You did great today. You gave Laura a gift. A beautiful gift.”

  A sniffle escaped her. “Then why am I crying? I don’t cry, and I’ve cried more since meeting you than I did when I broke it off with Owen. Even when things were bad with him, I never cried.”

  “It’s because you have a big heart.”

  “I just wish it was enough.”

  He tipped her head back. Locked his gaze onto hers. “It’s more than enough.”

  “I wish I could believe it.”

  “Believe it.” Gazes locked, she reached up to touch his face, feeling the emerging stubble. She slid her hand around the side of his neck and up into the dark strands he’d worn loose. Then she took what she needed. She encountered no resistance as she brought his mouth down to hers.

  He tasted delicious. Like a slice of chocolate cake, only better. Lips pressed, lightened. Pressed again. He drew her closer and she angled her lips so the kiss could deepen. Sparks flew as his tongue found hers. Her eyes closed, tears banished as passion took their place. She curled her fingers, threading them further into his seductive hair. No wonder women loved long hair. Legolas. Aragorn. Thor. Stuff of fantasies, but with Joe, very real. And better. Oh, so much better. A mewling cry of pleasure escaped her as he plundered her mouth. Maybe it was his age. His experience. Finally, it was like in those romance novels she devoured. She’d never been kissed like this before, as if a kiss was a mutual possession.

  He broke the connection to nibble his way down her neck, tracing a sensual line down to the scoop of her tank top. An ache began between her thighs and instinctively she pressed forward and up, her aching breasts searching. He used a hand to yank the garment and her bra down, bringing his mouth to her needy peak.

  His tongue circled, and she arced toward his mouth, the wave of pleasure coursing through her so resplendent. He freed her other breast, lavishing attention on both peaks until her knees buckled from sheer pleasure as a tiny orgasm shot through her whole body and she shook. He recaptured her mouth, kissing her senseless. He didn’t bother with the button, instead simply sliding fingers under the hem of her shorts and underwear until he found her soaked center. His kiss captured her moan as he rubbed a circle until she came hard and fast with ragged breath.

  “Joe,” she breathed, wanting—no, needing—to reciprocate, to feel him.

  As she reached for the button on his jeans, it was like a bucket of cold water washed over Joe. What the hell was he doing? His hands pinned hers, stopping her from going further. “No,” he told her between kisses. He pulled his mouth away. “No.”

  “But,” she protested, her desirous eyes confused. Still, he kept her hands pinned. Part of him throbbed, for he wanted the release her touch promised. But not here. Not like this. Not when he hadn’t been completely honest with her about his own scars. His mom had raised a respectful man, and he had to be one, not matter how much his body thought otherwise.

  “We need to stop,” he told her.

  As reality intruded, Taylor crashed back to earth with a violent thump. “What? Why?” She winced. But how did you sound calm, cool, and collected after a man touched your most intimate spot, brought you to orgasm and then decided that continuing was a bad idea?

  From hot to cold in two seconds flat meant her head warred with everything from rejection to regret to anger to unsatisfied desire. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Anger won. “Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you dare tell me you hated that you led me on.”

  “I …”

  She rounded on him. She hadn’t given herself to anyone since Owen beyond a perfunctory good-night kiss. “I didn’t need a hook-up.”

  “It’s not a hook-up,” he countered, stepping back. “Never. That’s why I’m stopping.” His arms crossed. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

  “I hate those words.”

  “I would never lie to you. We have to work together. The book.” Clearly he was agitated. At a loss for words. A hand jerked through his hair, hair she’d fisted with abandon. “I don’t regret what happened, but it was a mistake.”

  “That sounds like regret to me.”

  “I …” He’d leaned against the cabinets, and he straightened and slid sideways, even further away. “Look at me. I’m hard as a rock. It’s not that I don’t want you.”

  “Then explain. Because I feel cheap.”

  He thrust his hands in his pockets. Took them out again. “That was never my intention. I have issues, okay? It seriously is me. Not you.”

  “What kind of issues? I don’t understand.” She could see the bulge. His body desired hers. “You’re not dating someone, are you?”

  He appeared horrified. “No.”

  “Then what is it?” She’d calmed somewhat.

  He brushed back his hair again. “It’s just wrong. … And I’m due at the gym. You are an awesome woman. If the circumstances were different …” his voice trailed off. “Trust me, you deserve better. I’ll call you.”

  And then he was out of the kitchen, unfinished beer sitting on the counter. She glanced out the window, watched his car back out of the driveway. She pounded her hand on the counter. What was it with men screwing with her head? Her high school boyfriend of six months had taken her virginity and then dumped her a week later. Then Owen had turned into a possessive, obsessive crazy person. Now Joe had told her he had issues. She chugged the rest of the bottle and resisted the urge to shatter it on the counter. Breaking things never helped, and that type of conflict resolution had been Owen’s mojo.

  Sensing something was wrong, Yin and Yang wove between her legs, their plaintive meows indicating they wanted to comfort her by providing objects for petting. She dumped Joe’s beer, carrying the rinsed bottles to the garage for recycling. She began to put the background away. So much for their sharing a moment.

  She’d thrown herself at him and been tossed aside with a dumb excuse. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again, and she certainly wouldn’t ever embarrass herself this way again. No. Been there, done that.

  Her phone buzzed and she answered. “Hey, Taylor,” her manager, John, said. “Can you work tonight? Lisa’s out sick.”

  Taylor’s answer was instantaneous. Stay home and wallow or get out and earn some money. “Absolutely,” she told him. “I’ll be right in.”

  * * *

  “So how did the shoot go?” Susie asked the next day, her legs bending. She pulled abreast with him on the climbing wall.

  “Fine,” Joe said. He craned his neck, assessing the next rock protrusions. The wall they were on was forty-five feet high, and they were two thirds of the way up.

  “Just ‘fine’?” She grappled the next outcropping, pulled herself upward. The spotter below took the slack out of her line. “Amanda called me gushing.”

  “Taylor did a great job.” He yanked himself upward. After leaving Taylor, he’d gone to the gym, gone two rounds with a worthy opponent to work out his frustrations.

  “So what’s the problem?” Susie hung there, waiting for him to catch up. “Something’s wrong. I can tell.”

  “I’m fine. I lost last night’s fight.”

  “You never lose.”

  “He got in a lucky shot. I’m a bit sore, that’s all. Didn’t block as well as I should have.”

  “Now, I know something’s wrong,” Susie called as he passed her by. “Nothing ever gets by you.” She hauled herself upward. “I’m going to be too
big for this soon. So tell me, what’s got you in a state?”

  “Nothing. I am not in a state.” His foot slipped, but he caught himself before he swung off the wall and into empty space.

  “You’re lying, and you never lie, so it’s obvious when you do. You forget I know you. Maybe it’s because of what happened when we were kids.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  She ignored him. “Because of it, we have a bond. A close friendship beyond being related. Which means you owe me the truth.”

  “Fine,” he grumbled. He loved all his brothers and sisters, but Susie was correct. He was closer to her than the others.

  “Spill,” she demanded as she came level again. She drilled him with the look she’d perfected from their mother.

  “I kissed her.”

  “Who?” Her eyes widened a millisecond later as she figured it out. “No way!”

  He studied the next rock outcropping.

  “You didn’t! I could tell you liked her at the picnic, but …” Susie, forgetting where she was, covered her mouth with her hand, and lost her balance. She swung out into the air. “Damn! You are so going to tell me everything.” Joe climbed further away from where she dangled. “You have to come down sometime,” Susie warned as the spotter below began to lower her to the ground. “I’ll be waiting.”

  “We’ll see,” Joe called after her, but oddly, unburdening himself felt decent. He’d made a mistake, and Susie would help him deal with it. They shared the same experiences, the same love and loss. Although, she’d found Parker.

  Susie was drinking a strawberry banana smoothie from the juice bar when he caught up with her. “So, this kiss.”

  “Yeah. About that. It was a mistake.”

  Susie winced. “Did you say that to her? Please tell me you didn’t say that to her.”

  He gritted his teeth. Busted. He gave a sad chuckle. “You know I’m not good with women. All looks, no follow-through.”

  “Joe.”

  He waved over the bartender, ordered a G2. Drained half of it. “Maybe you should take over this project.”

  “Joe.” The way she sighed his name revealed marked resignation. He knew she was frustrated with him. “You have to get back out there. You can’t hide out the first time being with some woman scares you.”