by Lori Foster
Josh looked down at her, and said softly, “Alone at last.”
She blinked several times, her nervousness so apparent that Josh wanted to just lift her and hold her and rock her in his arms. Instead, he caught her chin on the edge of his hand.
His heart thundered, surprising him with his over-the-top response. Amanda breathed hard, her hands fluttered, then settled on the waistband of the heavy pants, just over where his suspenders connected in the front.
He leaned down, touched his mouth to hers, heard her soft moan, and like a virgin on prom night, he lost it.
5
AMANDA’S HANDS slid over Josh’s oiled shoulders, up to his neck where she caught him and held on tight. Josh forgot about her nice gray suit and matching cape, about her styled hair and her reservations.
All his senses were focused on the fact of her kissing him, her taste, her indescribable scent, the feeling of rightness having her small body inching closer and closer to his own.
He tunneled his fingers through her hair, dislodging pins and clips to cradle her skull, to keep her mouth under his so he could continue to kiss her. Her mouth was hot and sweet and her tongue shyly touched his own.
Her breasts, discreetly covered by bra and blouse, suit and cape, brushed his abdomen with the impact of a thunderclap. Josh tilted his pelvis into her, lifted her to her toes, crushed her close.
She was such a petite woman, all softness and sweetness and femininity. She took his breath away with the need to devour her, the urge to protect her.
She bit his bottom lip and her nails sank into his shoulders. Slowly, in small degrees, Josh lifted his mouth. “Baby, you burn me up.”
Her beautiful brown eyes, heavy and unfocused, stared at his mouth. She licked the corner of her lips and whispered, “Yes.”
Josh groaned and kissed her again. He didn’t know how long it had been for her, but he felt like he hadn’t had sex in years and now he was at the boiling point. Even through the damn bunker pants, he was aware of Amanda’s pelvis pressing into his swollen erection with blatant, yet probably unconscious, invitation.
Her cape was soft—and easily removed. Amanda didn’t even seem to notice when it fluttered to the ground to land around their feet in a soft gray heap of material.
He slid his hand down her back, over her curvy hip to the bottom of her sweet cheek. He groaned low in his throat—damn, but she had a nice ass, firm and round.
He hadn’t realized. Her suits did a lot of concealing, not that he minded. The last thing he wanted was every other guy ogling her butt. Or for that matter any part of her anatomy.
Edging his hand farther downward, he found the hem of her skirt and tugged it up enough to let his fingers drift over her nylon-covered thigh. Her breath hitched as he went higher and higher…when he reached the edge of a garter, he nearly collapsed.
“You little sneak,” he murmured, his mouth still touching hers, but gently now. His fingertips encountered the warm, bare satiny flesh at the back of her thigh and he stroked her. “You came here today with sexy stockings, and you weren’t even going to tell me.”
Amanda went still, then she stumbled out of his arms so quickly she tripped over the cape and landed on her rump. Josh tried to catch her, but he wasn’t quick enough. She’d taken him totally by surprise and now she was sprawled at his feet, staring up at him in horror, her face utterly white.
She’d landed more on the cape than off it. She had one hand braced on a clump of dirt, the other pushing frantically at the hem of her skirt. Her knees were pressed together, her feet apart, giving her an adorably posed look, especially in the high heels and prim suit, her hair more down than up, her lipstick now gone.
Josh felt hornier than ever, and more confused.
He knelt down in front of her, elbows braced on his knees, his hands dangling, hoping to appear relaxed when he was so tense a touch could shatter him. “What is it, sweetheart?”
She scampered back, her heels kicking up the hard ground and her skirt rising a little more, showing a sexy stretch of slim smooth thigh and the edge of a lacy garter. Damn she had nice legs. Before she could go entirely out of his reach, Josh caught her left ankle.
“Hold up. I just want to know what’s wrong.”
She started to smooth her suit jacket with busy hands, realized it was now covered in the baby oil that coated his chest and she grimaced. “My suit is ruined.”
“I’ll buy you another one.”
Her head flashed up so quickly, she startled him. “You will not!”
“I ruined it,” he pointed out reasonably, still with his long fingers wrapped around her ankle.
“You did no such thing. It was…it was me and my behavior…”
“We kissed, Amanda. There was no behavior, at least not the way you’re saying it, as if you killed someone.”
Her eyes widened and she gasped. Just as quickly, she turned her head to stare toward the woods. “Josh please, let me go.”
“Hell, no. Not until you explain.”
“You have to be cold!”
“Not even close.” She looked disbelieving and he shook his head. “Nice try, but after the way you kissed me, you gotta know I’m burning up.”
Amanda pulled herself together. It was a visible effort, and Josh watched in fascination—and remorse—as her cold shell fell into place. “I told you this wasn’t what I wanted. But as you just said, you got your kiss. So now we’re through.”
Josh thought about his options, letting them run through his mind in rapid order, sorting and picking until he decided on the only course of action that just might get him what he wanted—her trust. And ultimately, her.
Maintaining his hold on her ankle, he levered himself over her, moving slowly to cover her, not letting her draw away.
“Josh!”
“Shh,” he soothed. “I just want to talk and we can’t say anything important when all you want to do is lock me out.”
“We’re in a public park!”
Raised on one elbow, she flattened a hand on his chest to ward him off. Josh released her ankle and caught her shoulders, then pressed her down to lie flat. “No one is around.”
She turned her head so far to the side her nose touched the ground. “I don’t want you to do this,” she said in a voice gone thin and shrill.
“Oh? Is that why your pulse is racing?” He kissed the tiny telltale fluttering of excitement in her throat. “Besides, I’m not going to do anything to you. At least know that much, Amanda. I’d never force you.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, and said, “I know it.”
That was something, he supposed. Not much, but it’d have to do for now. “Amanda? Come on, look at me, honey.” He knew she wouldn’t so he cupped her head and brought her face around to his. “I want to ask you a few things, and I want you to know that no matter the answer, it won’t make a difference about how I feel.”
Her lips, swollen from his kisses, parted. “How do you feel?”
With a tiny smile he couldn’t contain, Josh admitted, “Poleaxed. Dumbfounded. Smitten, bit, infatuated and so physically attracted I’m learning to live with a perpetual hard-on.”
Her eyes grew round, her pupils dilated. “For me?”
Now he laughed out loud. He kissed the end of her nose and said, “Yeah, for you. And it isn’t easy being here with you like this, on top of you, able to smell you—”
She scoffed. “There you go with the smell thing again.”
He nuzzled his nose against her cheek and whispered in a voice gone husky, “I love how you smell.”
Her lashes fluttered at the L word, and again she turned her head to the side.
“Amanda,” he chided. “Don’t hide from me.”
She nodded, looked at him directly, and whispered, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Josh wasn’t at all sure what she thanked him for, and at the moment, he didn’t care. He prepared himself and blurted, “Were you burned?”
Her whole b
ody stiffened and jerked. The word, “No,” exploded from her and she began to struggle. “I wasn’t,” she said, still fighting. “I wasn’t.”
“Amanda, I swear it doesn’t matter to me!” Josh easily subdued her, catching her wrists and pinning them beside her head. His own throat felt tight, making it hard to speak, even harder to breathe. Her legs shifted under his but he was so much bigger, she had no way to dislodge him. “It doesn’t matter, honey. If you have scars…”
“No!” She shook her head hard, ruining her hair and bumping his chin. “I was never burned. You don’t understand…”
She practically sobbed out those words and Josh, his heart breaking but needing to know, said, “Then explain it to me. Make me understand.”
She stopped fighting him to press against him. He was so stunned he released her arms and she flung them around his neck, squeezing him so tight he felt it in his heart, in his soul. Her hot, frantic breaths pelted his throat and the wetness of her tears touched his shoulder.
He squeezed his own eyes shut. “Amanda?”
“I wasn’t burned,” she swore with raw guilt, her voice shuddering, her body shaking. “I wasn’t even in the fire.”
The fire. Discovering he was right, that there had in fact been a fire gave Josh no satisfaction. Instead, it made his skin crawl and his stomach cramp with thoughts of what she might have gone through. He knew firsthand the damage a blaze could cause, both physically and emotionally.
At least Amanda claimed she hadn’t been in the fire, not that it would matter to him now if she had been burned. He’d meant what he said. But then what had happened?
Josh knew he had to go slowly. Cradling Amanda close, keeping her tucked protectively to his chest, he sat up. He brought her into his lap and just held her.
Someone she loved had been burned? Another man? Questions raced through his mind, but he didn’t dare push her. She was already at the end of her rope, and he knew how she’d feel once she regained control. She’d blame him, and he’d have to start over from scratch.
Josh nuzzled her cheek, seeking forgiveness, because despite what he’d just told himself, he needed to know.
Hoping to help soothe her, he coasted his hands up and down her narrow back and kept on kissing her, her temple, her hair, her ear. He didn’t care where, so long as he got to kiss her.
Minutes slipped by and neither of them broke the quiet. The sun sank down behind the bare, gnarled treetops, leaving the park shadowed and cold. A breeze rustled the dry grasses and brush, chilling his naked upper body.
Sounding sleepy, Amanda rubbed her fingers over his chest and muttered, “You’re all slippery.”
He smiled. That wasn’t at all what he’d expected to hear from her after her emotional display and the lengthy silence.
She lifted her face and he saw her cheek was shiny with tears and baby oil. Around her right eye the blackening made her look wounded, bruised. A thin smear decorated her chin, the fine line of her delicate jaw, the edge of her nose.
It seemed the rightest thing in the world to lean down and kiss her mouth.
She kissed him back, letting the touch of their mouths linger, long and soft and caring.
“I’m sorry,” she said on a sigh, snuggling close again, unmindful of the mess their embrace had already caused to her appearance. “I don’t usually carry on like a deranged woman.”
“Not deranged,” Josh corrected. “Upset. We all get upset sometimes. It’s nothing to apologize for.”
Amanda nodded and then started to rise. His arms tightened. “Hey,” he asked gently, “where do you think you’re going?”
“Just to get your shirt. I don’t want you to catch a cold and it’s getting nippy.”
True. Chills roughened Josh’s skin and made him shiver. Still, he didn’t want to move. With Amanda in his lap, he felt more content than he had in weeks. But because he’d been forward enough for her to bring sexual assault charges against him, he helped her to stand.
She tottered for a moment, her legs unsteady as she looked around to locate his discarded clothes on the picnic table. Her steps methodical, a bit too slow, Amanda fetched the jeans and his T-shirt and flannel.
Josh rose, too, brushing off his backside and wishing he could read her mind. With most women, his confidence was iron strong, but Amanda was an enigma and he never knew for sure where he stood with her.
He watched her lift his flannel to her nose and inhale for just a second, before crushing it close and strolling back to him.
“Here,” she said, acting as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn’t just lost control in front of him.
As if she hadn’t kissed him to the point of no return—and then backed down.
Josh accepted the clothes and yanked his shirt on over his head. It stuck to him, thanks to the oil and blackening. As a fireman, he’d had many occasions where soot had coated his body, even getting beneath his gloves to cake under his nails. By comparison, a little oil could be ignored.
He shrugged the flannel on while Amanda watched, her expression distant, impossible to read.
“If you don’t mind,” Josh said, “I’ll change pants, too. These aren’t exactly the best to drive in.”
“All right.” She bent to get her cape. Dried leaves and twigs stuck to the material so she shook it out, then gave him her back.
Josh noticed a run in one of her stockings, dirt on her dressy high-heeled shoes, blackening and oil streaks on her once-impeccable clothing.
He felt like a marauder, like a ravisher of innocents. But damn it, he didn’t know how to deal with her. It was like floundering in the dark. He had to push her, or give up on her, and giving her up wasn’t an option.
Her back still to him, Amanda put her fingers to her hair and discovered how he’d wrecked it with his impatient hands. Personally, Josh thought she looked sexy as hell rumpled—even with the grease streaks on her face—but he knew she wouldn’t agree.
He watched Amanda as she fussed with her hair for a few moments, then her head dropped forward when she realized there was no way to repair it, not out in the park near the woods with only the diminishing sunset and a tugging breeze to help her.
One by one, she began removing pins, and with each silky light-brown lock that fell over her shoulders, Josh’s heart punched hard. He skinned out of his bunker gear and steel-toed boots, and tugged on his jeans, awkwardly hopping on first one foot then the other while keeping his attention on Amanda. He stepped into his shoes, slipped his thick leather belt through the loops and bundled up the rest of his gear.
By that time, Amanda’s long hair was free and she combed her fingers through it, trying to bring some order to the tumbled mass. Her movements were innocently seductive and sexual. Unable to stand the physical and emotional distance between them, Josh approached her.
He clasped her shoulders. “Amanda, are you ready to talk now?”
She reached back and patted his hand in a distracted, almost avuncular way. “Why don’t we talk in the car?” Even as she asked that, the wind picked up, tossing her hair so that the silky strands brushed his chin and throat.
He shuddered with raw need.
Amanda shivered with cold.
The park was dark now, cast in long eerie shadows. Josh hadn’t realized how quickly the sun would set once it began its decline. But with the tall trees surrounding them, little of the fading light could penetrate.
He didn’t want to leave, but then he was aroused and equally concerned. With the odd combination of emotions, he knew he wasn’t thinking straight.
“You’re cold,” he said, giving himself a reason to stroke her, to rub his hands up and down her arms under the guise of warming her. What he really wanted to do with her and to her would no doubt make her hotter than hell. It was certainly making him hot just thinking about it. But for now, he had to content himself with a little arm rubbing.
Amanda patted his hand again, then turned to face him. “I just think it’s best if we get on our
way.”
Her eyes looked luminous in the dark, her skin pale.
“You’re not afraid of me?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“You’re going to talk to me, to help me understand?”
“Yes. I’ll try.”
Josh searched her face, trying to read the truth there, but Amanda always did a good job of closing down on him whenever she wanted to. He tucked his extra clothes under his arm and hefted the ax. “Let’s go.”
Once they were in the car she said, “I still need you to sign the release.”
“Sure.” He started the car, flipped on the headlights, and drove out. “As soon as I approve the pictures you’ll be using.”
Her sound of impatience turned into a laugh. “You are so impossible, Josh Marshall. What am I going to do with you?”
Love me. The wayward thought scared the hell out of him, making his hands tighten on the wheel, his heart pound, his stomach roil and his brain stutter. He’d never before wanted a woman to really care.
His throat burned with the need to curse, to rage at the fickle hand of fate that had shown him a woman he wanted more than any other, only to keep her out of reach because she didn’t feel the same.
After so many women had admired him, women who were attracted to him, some of them a little in love with him, he was deathly afraid he’d gone and stupidly fallen for Amanda.
“Talk to me,” he said. “That’s what you can do.”
“All right.” She seemed very small and still in the car beside him. Her tone was hesitant, but she continued. “First, the reason I don’t want to get involved with you is that there’s no point. Beyond what we just did, things can’t progress.”
Having no idea what she was trying to say, he asked only, “Why not?”
“I’m not…capable of it.”
He swung his head toward her, then forced himself to watch the road. Not capable, not capable, not capable…
“I’m a little slow here, babe. Can you explain that?”
“Quit calling me babe and I might try.”