by Vivian Arend
The parking lot held one more car than she’d expected, and she paused. Her bit of showboating must have attracted tourist attention. Better to nip any rumours in the bud and make nice—a little one-on-one conversation could hush up any potential rumours.
He was standing outside his car, staring into the distance with his profile toward her. Jet black hair just long enough to curl slightly at his neckline topped what was a lovely looking masculine build. It was a warm enough December day that she’d grabbed a light coat, forgoing the thick winter parka needed on more inclement days. This fellow wore a much faded leather jacket, collar flipped up against the wind. A scruff of beard shadowed a firm jawline, lips that were firm and slightly parted in a cocky smile.
Hmm, under the right conditions she liked a little ungroomed cockiness.
“Can I help you?”
The stranger turned from examining the airfield to face her fully. A pair of brilliant blue eyes caught her full on. There were lines at the corners of his eyes, his skin deeply tanned from exposure to the sun. A vast amount of time spent outdoors was clearly written into his skin. She stepped a couple of paces closer before her eyes and brain connected.
Her stranger was all too familiar.
“Tim?”
The slightly cocky smile bloomed into a full out grin, teeth flashing white against his skin. “Hello, love. Good to see you up to your old tricks.”
The roundhouse kick that burst free was instinctive. It was wrong, perhaps, to lash out physically at someone she hadn’t seen in years, but the response was as involuntary as breathing.
Her heel failed to make contact with his gut as planned, however. Instead she found her foot trapped in a strong grip, and before she could adjust her attack he’d flipped her around, catching her against his body with her arms pinned behind her back.
“Kitten, pull in your claws,” he warned.
His voice stroked her nerve endings even as her blood boiled. She struggled briefly to check his hold, but unless she truly wanted to hurt him, he had her locked in position. “I’m not your kitten, and you can goddamn let me go before I call the cops.”
“I was only protecting myself,” he pointed out.
After all the time that had passed since they’d been together, the flash of anger that hit was far too strong. She ground out through clenched teeth, “Spider.”
She hadn’t expected to be instantly set free. Had thought maybe he’d forgotten what the word meant. Maybe he would simply ignore her.
Yet only a second later the icy wind was all that surrounded her.
Tim not only let her go, he retreated far enough away they were in no danger of further physical contact. “That wasn’t nice,” Tim growled.
“Neither was . . .” She shook her head. This wasn’t the time or place for the discussion, especially since she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to bring it up all over again. “Forget it. What are you doing here?”
He raised a brow. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Erin opened her mouth to lambast him again for being an obnoxious jerk when it hit. Hard. “You’ve come to apply for the position on Lifeline.”
“Right in one, love.” He tilted his head toward the chopper. “Don’t think you can scare me off with any circus tricks, either.”
She knew she couldn’t. What’s more, Lifeline was important to her, and the skills Tim had were exactly what they needed. She wasn’t going to chase off the best candidate for the team out of some egotistical revenge. The knot in her stomach didn’t make it any easier to deal with the potential issues involved in having the man around again. “You have an interview?”
He shook his head. “Figured I’d do a cold drop in. Unless you want to put in a good word for me?”
Jeez. Bossy bastard had her over the coals, and he knew it. Was gloating over it.
She glared at him. “Push me too far, and I swear I’ll find a way to fix you. As in how they fix animals. Got it?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, simply twirled on her heel and headed back into HQ. The candidate she’d shaken up earlier dodged aside and all but ran for his car as she passed. One solid tug jerked the main door open, and she was back in the staff area, the familiar displays on the walls and the relaxed and yet efficient setting calming her nerves even as Tim’s body only half a pace behind heated her.
Marcus glanced up from where he was working behind his desk, his gaze leaping off her to the man stepping into sight on her right. “What’s up, Erin?” Marcus asked.
She took a deep breath. “Marcus, this is Tim Dextor. He’s a SAR trained paramedic. The best I’ve ever been with.” She didn’t wait for Marcus to respond, just turned to Tim and poked him in the chest, staring him down, longing for a reason to smack him a good one. “Don’t fuck with me again.”
She ignored the question in Marcus’s eyes. Avoided looking into Tim’s face for fear of what she might see there.
Most of all, though, she ignored the ache in her belly that said far too strongly that working with the man was going to be incredible and horrid for all sorts of reasons.
The best I’ve ever been with.
As her words echoed in her brain she had to admit the comment applied to far more than his skills as a SAR.