Hot Attraction

by Lisa Childs

  She shivered and stepped closer to him, as if she needed his warmth. Or his protection. “I’m not alone now.”

  “No, you’re not.” Slipping his fingers beneath that thin strap, he tugged her closer yet. Then he lowered his head and brushed his mouth across hers.

  She sighed softly, her breath whispering across his lips. And he deepened the kiss, delving his tongue into her mouth. He stroked it across hers. She tasted so damn sweet.

  And while she’d been shivering moments ago, her body was hot against his. That strap slipped down again. So he pushed down the other one, and the entire top of her gown dropped, freeing her breasts. Moonlight bathed them, turning her tanned skin even more golden.

  He cupped one of her breasts in his palm. It was so round—so full. Then he flicked his thumb back and forth over the distended nipple.

  Even though her teeth had sunk into her bottom lip, a moan slipped out of her mouth. And she arched toward him, pushing her breast more fully into his hand.

  Touching wasn’t enough. He had to taste, too. So he lowered his head. He moved his lips over the curve, pressing soft kisses to her silky skin. Then he flicked his tongue out, and like he had his thumb, he brushed it back and forth across her nipple.

  She moaned again—loudly. She was so responsive. So passionate. He closed his lips around her nipple and gently tugged. And she reached for him, her fingers tunneling through his hair—clasping his head against her breast. Unable to lift his head, he lifted her instead. He wrapped his hands around her waist; it was so small his fingers overlapped.

  Her fingers slipped from his hair, and he finally pulled his head from her breast. She stared down at him, her eyes wide with surprise that he’d lifted her—that, held aloft as she was, she was above him.

  On television she seemed larger than life—as if she filled the screen. But in reality she was delicate and vulnerable. So light that he carried her easily toward the door she’d left open to her bedroom.

  She trembled in his arms—maybe from the cold. Maybe from passion. But he only remembered how scared she’d been when he’d showed up at her house.

  He had stayed to protect her from whoever had been watching her—watching them. Whoever had already been inside her cottage, burning something in her fireplace.

  Had that been a warning? Maybe it was one he needed to heed.

  7

  “THANKS A LOT,” Kim said, as she stepped through the door Avery held open for her.

  In a reversal of the day before, Avery blinked and asked, “What are you thanking me for?” Smelling the scent of coffee and cinnamon wafting from the basket in her sister’s arms, she said, “I’m the one who should be thanking you. You didn’t have to bring me breakfast.”

  Her stomach grumbled in appreciation, though. And just the smell of coffee began to clear the sleep—or, rather, lack thereof—from her throbbing head.

  Kim set the basket on the polished wood counter and pulled out a clear glass container of frosting-covered cinnamon rolls and a carafe of coffee. “I thought you might need sustenance after the night you had.”

  She hadn’t called her sister—hadn’t told her about the smoke and the feeling that someone had been inside her home. “What are you talking about?”

  “The hot fireman,” Kim said. “I told him where to find you.”

  She wasn’t about to thank her sister for that. Sure, maybe having him stay had made her feel a little safer. But it wasn’t as if she wouldn’t have been able to protect herself had her intruder returned.

  She’d been taking care of herself for years. She didn’t need a man. She certainly didn’t need Dawson Hess.

  But her body called her on the lie as it continued to ache for his. Her nipples were still tight—still longing for more of his attention.

  Even as her face flushed, she murmured, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

  “He must have found you since his truck was parked in my driveway until just a couple hours ago,” Kim said. “And I doubt a Hotshot firefighter who tracked down lost campers in the middle of hundreds of acres of national forest would have gotten lost on his way over here.”

  “He didn’t get lost.” But she had. She’d lost her focus. While she’d had him alone, she should have been interviewing him—about himself, about the fire. She should have been trying to get him to talk. But she’d let him distract her from her job—from the story. That had never happened before. But she’d never felt such an intense attraction before, either. But he obviously didn’t feel the attraction—at least not to the same extent she did. Even though he kissed her, he always managed to pull back. Even though he touched her, he always managed to stop. Was it because he didn’t find her as attractive?

  When she’d heard him moving around in the living room, she’d slipped out of her old T-shirt and boxers and into that silky nightgown. She’d wanted to tease him. She’d wanted him to want her.

  The pressure he’d built inside her—with his hand on her breast, then his lips and his tongue…

  It wound even tighter now. Her hand shook as she reached for the cup of coffee her sister held out to her. She probably didn’t need the caffeine—except that she was exhausted.

  “You look like you didn’t sleep at all,” her sister observed as Kim sipped at her own cup of coffee.

  “I didn’t.”

  “He’s that good?” Kim asked with a wistful sigh.

  Maybe that was what he thought—that he’d been a good guy when he’d laid her on her bed and walked away. Maybe he’d thought he was doing the right thing.

  Jerk…

  “I wouldn’t know,” Avery bitterly admitted.

  Kim laughed. “Seriously? Nothing happened?”

  She might not have been as achy if nothing had happened. But his kisses—his touch—had turned up the heat. She was more hot and bothered than she could ever remember being.

  She shook her head.

  “Then why’d he stay all night?”

  She tensed. She didn’t want to worry her sister. But she had to know. Gesturing toward the fireplace, Avery asked, “Were the ashes in it from the last renters?”

  “There are ashes in it?” Kim asked. She walked over to it and looked inside. Then she shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t you usually clean it?”

  “I didn’t think to look in it,” she admitted. “The weather’s been unseasonably warm. I probably didn’t think anyone had used it.”

  Avery expelled a slight breath of relief. “That’s good…”

  “Did you think someone had been in here while you were at my house?” Kim asked. And she glanced nervously around.

  Avery shrugged. “I hadn’t locked the door when I left. And then when I came inside, it smelled like smoke…”

  “There were bonfires last night,” Kim said. “The Ahearnes and the Stovers both had one.”

  Their cottages were down the beach, but close enough that Avery could have smelled their fires.

  Her face flushed again—with embarrassment that she’d overreacted.

  “This is Northern Lakes,” her sister said. “Not Chicago. You’re safe here.”

  Avery nodded. “Of course. I know that…”

  “So you just acted scared to get our local hero to spend the night?” Kim teased.

  Pride lifted Avery’s chin. “I am no damsel in distress.”

  And maybe that was the problem with Dawson. Maybe he liked helpless women he could rescue, so he could play the hero.

  “I said acted scared,” Kim said. “I know you’re not. You’d have no reason to really be afraid.”

  Remembering that eerie sensation of being watched and the smell of smoke, Avery shivered. She wasn’t so certain that was true. But why would she be in any danger?

  Sure, she was asking questions about the fire. But the only people who had seemed to be upset about that were the Hotshots. Going after a story had put her in danger in the past, though. When she’d worked in Detroit, sh
e’d investigated a string of fires, and the gangs who’d been setting them on each other’s turf had threatened her life.

  But her life hadn’t been threatened last night. She wasn’t even certain someone had been inside her cottage.

  “I’m not afraid,” Avery said. But she wasn’t stupid, either, so she would be cautious. She already suspected there was more to the fire than had been revealed to the public. Could it have been an arson? Northern Lakes didn’t have gangs, but it might have one very disturbed person…

  Who could have been inside her home…

  She shivered again.

  “So I shouldn’t have told the hot firefighter where to find you?” Kim asked.

  If he hadn’t found her, Avery wouldn’t be deliciously on edge from his kisses—from his touch. “No,” she replied. “No wonder you brought the cinnamon rolls. It was out of guilt.” She pulled one out of the glass bowl and took a big bite. At least her sister’s guilt tasted sweet and was all gooey, cinnamon-flavored goodness.

  “All he wanted was to make sure you got safely home. He saved my kids’ lives,” Kim said. And the teasing was gone now. “I feel like I owe him.”

  “I love Ian and Kade, too,” Avery said. She’d only been fifteen when they’d been born, but her sister had wanted her in the delivery room. Seeing the agony Kim had endured had made her even more determined to avoid teen pregnancy—or pregnancy at any age. But being one of the first to see and hold the twins had built a special bond with them—another reason she was determined to investigate the fire that had nearly killed them.

  “I am surprised he cared if I got safely home or not. Dawson is not a fan of reporters.” In general? Or her in particular? Maybe he’d heard about her story on the arsons in Detroit. One of the firefighters she’d interviewed there worked as a Hotshot during wildfire season.

  “So, nothing really happened last night?” Kim asked skeptically. “All night?”

  Trying to forget about those kisses and how he’d touched her, Avery shook her head.

  Kim uttered a sigh of disappointment.

  “Why do you care?” she asked.

  “Now I can’t grill you for details about how he was,” Kim said.

  “You wanted to live vicariously through me?” Her sister really had settled down too soon.

  Kim shook her head. “No. But since the US Forest Service truck was parked in my driveway all night, I’m the one everyone’s going to be talking about.”

  Avery sucked in a breath of shock. “I hadn’t thought about that. Do you want me to call Rick for you?”

  “Some of his buddies already called him,” Kim said. “That’s why I’m up so early.”

  Avery cursed. She’d forgotten how small her hometown actually was. That was why she’d wanted out so badly. She’d wanted to live in the anonymity of a big city and report about other people’s lives instead of having people talk about hers. Dawson would probably call her a hypocrite regarding that. But she worked so much that she didn’t have anything interesting for anyone to report about her. “I’ll call Rick and explain everything.”

  Kim waved a hand in dismissal. “He’s fine. He trusts me and I trust him.”

  “But you spend so much time apart…” Avery had wondered how their marriage survived the long absences.

  “That’s why it’s so important that we trust each other,” Kim said. “And we trust what we have. It’s strong.” She smiled. “Strong enough to survive a little small-town gossip.” She lifted her chin and her smile widened. “Maybe it’ll be nice to be the one everybody’s talking about for once—instead of you.”

  “Nobody needs to be talking about me,” Avery said. She wasn’t the story. Dawson was. “Or you.”

  Kim wrapped her hands around her mug of coffee and shivered. “You’ve got that look again…”

  “I don’t care what he says. I’m going to do that special feature about Dawson Hess,” Avery said. “He deserves to be the one everybody’s talking about, not just Wyatt Andrews. He deserves some of the accolades.”

  “Even if he doesn’t want them?” Kim asked.

  “I don’t care what he wants,” Avery murmured. But she did care; she cared that he didn’t seem to want her.

  Kim chuckled. “When you mentioned this special feature before, you wanted to do it to thank and acknowledge Dawson for saving your nephews,” she said. “Now I think you want to do it out of revenge.”

  Avery had a lot of reasons for wanting to do the feature: revealing the real story of the fire and finding out more about Dawson. The man fascinated and irritated her more than she cared to admit.

  “Instead of telling him where to find you, I should have warned him to stay away from you,” Kim murmured as she gathered up the breakfast stuff. “The man is in trouble now…”

  *

  “YOU’RE IN TROUBLE,” Cody called out in a singsong voice as he joined Dawson in the gym.

  Ignoring him, Dawson continued to pump the weight bar up and down. Up and down. His body ached, but not because he’d been working out for over an hour. It ached because he’d denied it the pleasure he knew he could have found with Avery.

  He’d wanted her so damn bad. He still wanted her. For once he understood that edginess other guys got—like Superintendent Zimmer when he instinctively knew a big fire was coming. And Cody when he’d been in one spot for too long.

  Dawson had that edginess now—it cramped his stomach muscles and tightened his groin. Unlike the other guys, his edginess had a name. Avery Kincaid.

  “Aren’t you going to ask why you’re in trouble?” Cody asked.

  He knew why. He was letting a woman get to him. Worse yet, a reporter. He just rolled his aching shoulders in a shrug.

  “The boss is looking for you,” Cody said. “He’s expecting an update.”

  “Update?” Dawson was not in charge of finding out about the hot spots. Braden had taken on that responsibility himself.

  “About the reporter,” Cody reminded him.

  He probably should have talked to Zimmer before now, told him about the ashes in the hearth and the eerie feeling of being watched.

  But he wasn’t certain what any of it meant. If Avery had already been talking to the arsonist, would she have been so unnerved? Or was it because she’d been talking to him and knew how dangerous he was that she’d been scared?

  He had no idea. And sneaking out of her place just after dawn wasn’t going to help him learn anything. Kissing her instead of questioning her wasn’t going to get her to talk—not that she could with his tongue down her throat. The only thing he’d managed to get her to do was moan. But that hadn’t been enough.

  Would she have screamed his name as he thrust inside her? How the hell had he managed to leave her when he’d never wanted anyone more?

  Sure, he’d been trying to do the right thing—the honorable thing. He’d only spent the night at her place to protect her. Because she’d been scared. Taking advantage of her fear and vulnerability would have made him a jerk. He was only supposed to find out if she knew anything about the arsonist, not sleep with her.

  The blond firefighter stood over him—maybe to spot him as he continued to lift the weight bar. But he studied Dawson through narrowed eyes. “I stopped by your place last night,” he said, “but you weren’t home.”

  “No, I wasn’t.”

  Cody’s eyes narrowed more. “But you’re always home.”

  Dawson snorted. “Nobody on the team is always home.” Even Wyatt, who was crazy in love with his hot little redhead. “We’re either on a fire, here, or at the Filling Station.”

  “It was late,” Cody said. “You’re always home when it’s late.”

  Like the exercise and the diet, sleep was an essential part of their job, too. When they were out battling a blaze, they didn’t get much of it. So on their downtime they had to catch up.

  He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, though.

  “So where were you?” Cody asked.

  “Hopef
ully out doing his job,” Braden Zimmer said as he joined them in the weight room.

  “There wasn’t a fire call last night,” Dawson said.

  “He meant the reporter,” Cody said. “You should have been doing her.”

  He should have been. He wished like hell that he had—because he suspected she wasn’t going to give him another opportunity. She was too proud and too angry with him. Hell, he might never see her again. He should have been relieved; the last thing he wanted was a reporter hounding him the way they used to. But instead of relaxing, his stomach muscles tightened more.

  “He should have been talking to her,” Zimmer said.

  “I thought the point was to get her talking,” Dawson said. Because he had no intention of talking to any reporter—especially not Avery.

  “Did you get her talking?” Braden asked.

  “I questioned her as much as I could without making her suspicious,” he replied. Knowing she already was, he amended, “More suspicious.”

  Zimmer cursed. “You think she knows about the arson?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know what she knows.” She’d answered his questions, but she could have been lying about having no other sources than the twins. She wouldn’t want to reveal who she got her information from; she was a reporter after all.

  So she could have been lying to him. He’d been preoccupied—first with making sure she was safe. And then he’d just been preoccupied with her—with wanting her.

  He wanted her so much that it was almost as if he could smell her—the light flowery fragrance that was completely out of place in the firehouse’s sweaty workout room. He could feel her, too—her closeness—as his skin began to tingle.

  And then he heard the unmistakable click of heels against the concrete floor of the hall. And his body began to tense.

  It couldn’t be…

  8

  AVERY WINCED AT the echo of her heels against the concrete. Maybe she should have worn more sensible shoes. But she’d needed her armor of high heels and a silk dress that hugged her body. Looking professional reminded her that she was just a reporter doing her job. And Dawson Hess was just a story. Not a man who had recently rejected her…

  The rejection wouldn’t have bothered her if she wasn’t so damn attracted to him. Her focus was usually on the next story, the next step in her career, the next move. Not a man with whom she could have no possible future.