Flirting With Danger

by Claire Baxter

  “Why haven’t you called me?”

  Jasmine recognized Cindy’s voice.

  “I’ve left loads of messages.”

  “I’ve been busy,” Aaron said.

  He’d been busy? So, he was planning to call her when he had some free time? Jasmine’s heart sank. Was he leaving his options open, so he could pick up with Cindy as soon as he’d finished with her? Or worse, at the same time?

  “Are you busy now? What are you doing?”

  “I’m…” He paused. “Nothing important.”

  “Oh, good, because I need my pink shoe. I think it fell out of my bag when I drove your car back here.”

  “That’s yours?”

  “So, you did see it? You could have told me.”

  “I’m sorry. Look, let’s go down to the basement and I’ll get it for you.”

  Hearing them move toward the hallway, Jasmine stepped sideways into a room. It was Aaron’s bedroom, she realized with a wince. Once she heard the front door click shut, she drew herself up, her chin high, and counted to sixty to give them time to be on their way to the basement. Then, forcing her feet to move, she left the apartment.

  As soon as she was outside the building, she sagged. Nothing important, he’d said.

  Just like Craig, Aaron hadn’t considered her important enough to acknowledge.

  She was cold and nauseous and as her stomach lurched, the sickly sweet cocktail suddenly seemed like a very bad idea. She knew where to find a taxi, and she wouldn’t give in to the desperate urge to weep. That would have to wait.

  Safe at home, Jasmine sat on her bed and kicked off the beautiful purple shoes that she would never wear again; she’d be unable to bear the reminder of the night she’d almost slept with Aaron.

  He had women queuing up for him, didn’t he?

  She let that thought sink in, then sighed. How could she have gotten things so wrong?

  She’d been so close, so very close, to joining his long list of conquests, to letting him tick her name off his to-do list. What had she been thinking? That it would be different with her? That he’d change?

  Not even that. She didn’t have the excuse of believing she could reform him. She’d had no expectations. She’d simply got herself caught up in a web of desire, and the more she’d fought against it, the more tangled up she’d become, until she hadn’t known which way was up.

  But what he’d said to Cindy had acted like a bucket of cold water on her. She wasn’t so desperate that she’d take a number and wait her turn as if she was at the deli counter in the supermarket.

  Aaron had told her he didn’t date more than one woman at a time. He’d convinced her that he wasn’t like Craig, and she’d been gullible enough to believe him instead of relying on the evidence.

  She’d known that she was embarking on a fling, not a long-term relationship, but she’d been kidding herself that she was interesting enough to have captured his undivided attention. Wrong. She was no more important to him than Cindy or Melinda or anybody else.

  Pain sliced through her chest, much worse than any pain from a physical cause, and she wrapped her arms around herself as the intensity of it rocked her.

  She’d been kidding herself too that all she felt for him was lust. She loved him.

  Breathe, she told herself. Just breathe. It might hurt, but it was safer this way in the long run. Surely this was a thousand times less hurtful than the agony she’d just avoided, of knowing what it was like to feel his skin sliding against hers but then discovering that she wasn’t the only woman sharing his bed. She’d had a narrow escape from a sorrow so deep she might never have recovered from it.

  She’d survive this night. Her life would go on as it had before, and after tonight she would be immunized against the risk of ever becoming one of those women she despised—one of Aaron’s many women.

  Because she was important.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When Aaron couldn’t find Jasmine inside any of the bars along Marina Pier, he started to worry. His phone call went to voice mail, and she didn’t answer his text message either.

  Relief swamped him when his phone beeped and her name appeared as the caller ID. The text told him she was at home.

  Thank God she’s safe, was his first thought, but then the reality of his position came crashing in, and he made his way back to the apartment with a lump of lead in his chest.

  He’d been given a chance tonight, a chance he had never imagined he’d be lucky enough to have. And what had he done?

  He’d messed up.

  He hadn’t expected Cindy to turn up, but he could have handled things better when she had. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Cindy—it wasn’t her fault that he’d changed—but leaving Jasmine alone while he went down to find Cindy’s shoe had been the wrong thing to do. He hadn’t told Cindy he was with Jasmine because she was bound to run into Kane in the pub and blurt out the information, and with their secret revealed, everything would have to change—their jobs, the team, everything. Neither of them wanted that.

  Ever since his solo movie night, he’d been aware that what he wanted from life had gone through a radical change, almost without him realizing that it was happening. When he’d sought Jasmine out again, it hadn’t been with the aim of enticing her into his lifestyle; it had been the tentative start of something new and hopeful for him. Something different. Something better.

  Even sharing so much information about his past with her had felt right. For once, he’d been prepared to let someone see inside the walls he’d built. And he’d been rewarded by her reaction, by her willingness to see him, to give him a chance.

  And then the life he’d been ready to leave behind had collided with the new life he’d been about to embark on, and caught between the two, he’d ended up with nothing. He’d put Cindy in a taxi and sent her home, and Jasmine had left of her own accord. By doing so, she had sent him a message.

  She didn’t believe he’d changed.

  Somehow, he was going to have to convince her that he had, and that his old lifestyle no longer held any attraction for him.

  “Are you trying to kill them or cure them?”

  Oh, God. Jasmine took a moment to steady her nerves. She’d hoped that Aaron would wait till their next shift to talk about her disappearance last night, but she should have known that he’d have his own ideas about that. She put down the watering can and turned to face him over the new picket fence. She’d been working since the crack of dawn to create a garden and had been waiting outside the plant nursery when it opened, but really, she shouldn’t have bothered because the sun was too hot for planting today, and they were already wilting.

  “I’m giving them a tonic. The garden center said it would help them to settle in.”

  “I see.” He glanced at the watering can. “Did they tell you how much gin to put in it?”

  “It’s seaweed. The plants are supposed to like it.”

  “I didn’t get any seaweed.” His smile was as warm as ever as he held up two paper bags. “But I did bring lunch.”

  She looked from the bags to his face. The fact that he looked so perfect made it easier for Jasmine, strangely enough. If something looked too good to be true, it usually was.

  “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “What? Buy lunch?” He lowered the bags and his tone changed. “Or do you mean what happened last night? Because I’m truly sorry about that. I didn’t know Cindy was going to turn up.”

  “I was referring to lunch. I’m actually glad that she did turn up. She stopped me doing something I would have regretted later.”

  “Ah.” He nodded gloomily, and then his mouth twisted. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “I hope you both had fun.” She turned away from him. “Thanks for dinner, by the way. It was a great restaurant.”

  Bending, she picked up the watering can and moved to the next plant in the row. “I want to finish this, so I’ll see you at work in a couple of days.”

  She h
eard the click of the gate she’d just installed, and looking up, saw that he’d entered the garden. And that he wasn’t smiling any more. She also saw that he was wearing shorts—knee-length shorts, but still, it meant she was now staring at his bare calves as he closed the gate.

  “Oh, blast!” She’d managed to pour seaweed-scented water all over her feet.

  Aaron swung around. “Are you okay?”

  He hadn’t seen what she’d done, so she pretended it hadn’t happened, surreptitiously shaking one soggy foot at a time as she put down the watering can. She straightened. “I’m fine, but I don’t think we have anything more to say to each other. Nothing that can’t be said at the fire station next week, anyway.”

  He shook his head. “No, I won’t let you dismiss me. We do have more to say.” He stopped just inside the gate. She watched his chest rise as he took a deep breath and then fall as he exhaled. “I know you’re mad with me about last night, but you have to know that what happened was the last thing I wanted.”

  He didn’t need to say that he’d wanted her. She hadn’t been alone in that cloud of desire that had enveloped them, and anyway, whether he did or didn’t wasn’t the issue. Her problem wasn’t that he didn’t want her, it was that she didn’t want to be one of many. Again.

  “Look, all I did was take Cindy down to the car to find that stupid pink shoe. And then she left.”

  She opened her mouth to say that it wasn’t what he’d done last night that had upset her, it was what he’d planned to do after he’d slept with her. But instead she said, “Did it occur to you that she might be in love with you?”

  His eyes widened. “What? Why would you say that? I’m sure she’s not. She knows I’m not interested—”

  “Oh, like that would make any difference. Falling in love is not something you can control.” She knew all about that, didn’t she? “Apparently,” she added.

  He shook his head. “She’s not. I promise. Look, I couldn’t tell Cindy I was with you last night, because she’s a gossip, and she knows Kane.”

  She hesitated. He had a point. But then she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not mad at you. You can’t help being you.”

  “Thanks.” He shrugged. “I think.”

  “We had a nice dinner. Let’s pretend the rest of it didn’t happen. You go on sleeping with all the women you want to”—she blocked the image that had nearly floored her—“and I’ll…do whatever I decide to do. You have to admit, it’s easier this way. Much less awkward at work because we won’t have anything to hide.”

  “What do I have to do to convince you that I’m sorry?”

  “Aaron, you don’t get it. Nothing you say about last night will make the slightest difference. You are what you are.”

  He was silent for several seconds, his expression grim. “And what am I?”

  She sighed. “A playboy. A womanizer. A serial dater. Call it what you like; you aren’t going to change.”

  “What if I said I have changed?”

  She was so surprised, she laughed. Did he expect her to answer that? From the intense look in his eyes, he did. Sobering, she said, “You can’t change. You have issues that you haven’t dealt with. You have a problem with commitment, and I don’t blame you. You think that if you love someone, he or she will leave you. I understand that now, I really do. So you avoid becoming attached to one person. At least you have a reason for behaving the way you do; Craig was just immoral.”

  He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them she saw raw hurt glittering there and she swallowed hard. She hated causing him pain, but for her own sake, she had to be brave and see this through.

  “I told you, I’m not like Craig.”

  “I know what you told me, Aaron.” She shook her head. “As for me, I would need someone to commit to me one hundred percent before I could put my happiness in his hands. I won’t share. Anything less would be a deal-breaker. So, there you go. We’re fundamentally incompatible.”

  Throwing up her hands she said, “I don’t know why we’re even talking about this. It’s impossible. Oh, and by the way, we’re not going to be friends outside work either, because that will be too difficult. It’s better that we keep our distance, and nobody at work need ever know what we nearly did.” She picked up the watering can and strode toward the house. “There’s nothing else to say.”

  “For now,” Aaron said, turning to leave. “But this is not the end of the discussion.”

  …

  Aaron stood at the window of his apartment staring at a small red light bobbing around in the blackness. A marker buoy, he assumed. It was strange to think that he was looking at the vastness of the Southern Ocean but all he could make out was one tiny light. At least it was something to focus on. Without it he’d just be staring into space.

  He didn’t want to return to the way he and Jasmine had been before. He’d never been happier than he had been recently. He’d enjoyed everything they’d done together, even working on her house, cooking for her, just spending time with her, watching her, seeing the sun glint off the red highlights in her dark hair as she sat in his boat—which was something he’d never shared with any other woman.

  He’d never felt such an emotional connection to someone in his entire life. He hadn’t dared to think about wanting more until, incredibly, more had been within his grasp. And then he’d understood how very much more he wanted with Jasmine. Not just one night, not several nights, not any kind of short-term liaison.

  The possibility of more had been snatched from him, and he only had himself to blame. Because of the way he’d chosen to live his life in the past, she’d rejected him. She understood why he’d lived the way he had. She was the one woman who saw straight through him.

  But what she didn’t understand was that she’d made him break out of the role he’d created for himself and become accustomed to. She’d challenged him and made him grow. He didn’t feel like a player around her. He didn’t feel in control.

  He felt like a man who loved a woman.

  There, he’d admitted it, if only to himself. That was why this whole thing was so difficult, so thorny. Because he’d gone and fallen in love.

  She wouldn’t share, she’d said.

  Well, damn right. He wouldn’t ask her to, just as he wouldn’t dream of sharing her. Even knowing that she’d once loved Craig rankled, but he would accept that he wasn’t her first love—as long as he was her last.

  She wanted someone to commit to her 100 percent. Even thinking the words should scare him, but it didn’t. It felt like finding his place in the world.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jasmine forced her way against the flow of stormwater in the flooded drain, but as she approached the shape they’d been able to see from the entrance, thirty meters or so along the drain, she could make out that it was only a pile of debris.

  Exasperation at the waste of time made her want to howl, but she braced herself to push farther along the underground drain.

  “I have to keep looking,” she shouted over her shoulder above the noise of the rushing water, not sure that anyone could hear her.

  What had started as a summer thunderstorm had turned into an extended downpour. Flash flooding had caused problems throughout the city and they’d been busy all day, but this call-out was the most frustrating by far. A boy of about twelve had been seen entering a storm drain carrying cans of spray paint, shortly before the rain started. When the witness had returned to the spot, he’d heard screams coming from underground, but by the time he’d called the emergency number, the screams had faded.

  Now Jasmine and the rest of the crew had spent nearly an hour searching the stormwater-drainage system with no success. Another crew had been dispatched to the ocean outfall, but the boy hadn’t been spotted at that end, which meant he had to be inside these pipes somewhere. She paused to take in several deep breaths before pushing on again. She would find him. She had to.

  Several tortuous meters farther on, she heard a cry.
One meter more and in the light from the torch attached to her shoulder, she saw him, clinging to debris that had become wedged. But when she attempted to cover the remaining distance, the rope ran out.

  Damn.

  She called to the boy. Even from this distance she could see that he was shaking, and probably in shock, but certainly freezing. In all of her turn-out gear, she was chilled to the bone, and he appeared to be wearing nothing but shorts and a T-shirt.

  Either he couldn’t hear her or he was too numb to answer. She tried again, urging him to let go of the debris, promising to catch him as he was swept toward her. This time she knew he’d heard her because he shook his head.

  Right. She ran through the possible scenarios in her head. Only one presented itself as feasible. Breathing room was diminishing fast as the water level rose, and the amount of stormwater still entering the system meant the time available to her was severely limited. There simply wasn’t time to go back and discuss the options with the crew. She had to act.

  Without wasting another moment, she untied the rope from her harness with hands that trembled with a mixture of cold and apprehension. She let the rope wash back along the drain. Her colleagues would see it and understand what she’d done, and they’d be ready to play their part.

  Little by little, breathing hard, she made her way along the drain until she reached the boy and was able to grab onto the same debris, a tree branch. She took a moment to gulp in some air, then tried to coax him to let go. He wouldn’t. Or couldn’t, more likely.

  Jasmine turned away from him so he wouldn’t see the frustration and fear in her face. Fear because the only course of action open to her was to pry his fingers from the branch, one by one. It would take time—which was fast running out—and she’d be in a precarious position while she did it.

  She hooked an arm around the branch and grasped the boy’s wrist. Then with her other hand she loosened his grip, bit by bit, but all the time she was being buffeted by the rushing water and debris.