Ryan hit his brother on the shoulder with a cheerful grin. “I’ll take my chances.”
“Do you really think any woman is going to be eager to go out with a man she knows for a fact lets other women chain him to his bed?”
“You’re going to lord that over me forever and ever, right?”
“Of course.” Heath grinned, revealing two rows of gleaming white teeth. His tone was full of glee as he added with a dry laugh, “You have my blessing, I guess, as long as I get to do the wedding speech where I tell everyone how you two met.”
Since Heath had decided in kindergarten that he would one day marry Hayden, Ryan didn’t want to tell him that he thought only an utter fool would get married before forty. So he just made a face and declined to reply.
He left Heath and sauntered over to the kitchen, which was separated from the rest of the rec room by a large island, behind which Jordan was chopping up stuff.
Ryan was familiar with the station’s hierarchy, so he knew that, as the newest addition, she was responsible for feeding the entire company. He still remembered his father’s grousing when Heath had been the new guy. After only one week, he’d asked Hayden to show Heath how to cook a proper meal, as the other firemen had threatened to go on strike.
Jordan Esposito didn’t seem too happy with her task, either, cutting up lots of vegetables and throwing them into the giant pot with a miserable expression suggesting she was cooking her own pet dog. She wrinkled her nose and grabbed an onion, an almost desperate look on her face.
Ryan couldn’t have said what the hell she was trying to cook, but he let out a satisfied moan as he stepped up to the island and inhaled the admittedly pungent smells that wafted up from her cauldron of doom.
“That smells delicious. Can I stay for dinner?”
Her eyes shot daggers, and he was afraid she might be close to really losing it. She snorted disdainfully. “I should throw you in this pot for that lie. It smells horrible—you know that, I know that, and anyone within a ten-mile radius knows it, too.”
Ryan thought ten miles might be an exaggeration, but he had to press his lips together to refrain from laughing out loud. She was right: Her concoction smelled horrible, but he’d never say that to her face because she was a woman he wanted to sleep with.
The assortment of knives within her reach should have made him more cautious, but her desperate expression amused him more than it frightened him. Thus, he asked, “Forgive my question, but what exactly are you cooking?”
“I have no idea,” she confided and leaned across the island to give him a beseeching look. “Can you keep a secret, Fitzpatrick?”
Hoo boy! Ryan felt a massive erection coming on from the way she whispered his last name in that throaty, sexy voice of hers and looked him straight in the eye.
Hypnotized, he waited for her confession of startling sexual fantasies or a habit of not wearing underwear. He shifted uncomfortably, hoping nobody would notice how tight his pants had suddenly become. This hadn’t happened since he was a hormone-fueled teen, and he was afraid he was going to embarrass himself—big time.
She was still staring into his eyes waiting for his reply. He cleared his throat with effort and leaned across the island, as well. “I’m all ears,” he murmured huskily, putting possibility and expectation into his voice as well as his gaze, so that even a deaf person would have understood what he was thinking.
But the woman currently starring in his dirty fantasies merely heaved a heavy sigh, twisted her mouth into a pout, and gave him an alarmed look. “I can’t cook.”
***
Jordan was not dumb. She knew exactly what drove Ryan Fitzpatrick to help her cook, but her desire to produce an edible meal and not kill her colleagues with food poisoning was greater than her misgivings about the man showing an obviously sexual interest in her.
After a horrible previous evening and a sleepless night that involved staring at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity, Jordan had gotten up feeling awful and driven to her shift on autopilot. That’s what you got for answering the phone late at night. Her mom had started to cry, and Jordan had been too tactful to just put the receiver down. And it only got worse from there, so it wasn’t surprising Jordan hadn’t been able to sleep.
When she had arrived at the station this morning, she’d been informed she would be in charge of the meals now. She’d had to get right to it, preparing lunch for all three squads on duty.
The problem was Jordan didn’t know how to cook anything beyond a hearty breakfast of cereal or a handful of convenient dishes—mostly microwavable ones. Her mom had frequently complained that her daughter was all thumbs in the kitchen, and she would definitely have felt vindicated if she’d seen how Jordan was abusing a few pounds of innocent potatoes, or how she was standing clueless before the mounds of meat she was supposed to be transforming into something tasty.
If only she had a recipe to go by!
How on earth could she have guessed that cooking would be part of a new firefighter’s duty?
And, as if her day hadn’t started awfully enough, Ryan Fitzpatrick had shown up, confused her further, and was now ostensibly coming to her rescue.
She didn’t want to desire—or even like—a man she had met in a precarious—or, rather, humiliating situation—but unfortunately, this particular representative of the male species was incredibly hot, making her stomach clench with sudden lust.
“What do you mean you can’t cook?” he repeated after her confession.
“I mean I can’t cook. At all!” She rolled her eyes and hoped none of her colleagues had overheard what she whispered to the unexpected guest, whose suit screamed “cop” from half a mile away.
God was obviously on the warpath. Why else would he send yet another cop to drive her up the wall? It would be a nice change to meet someone who didn’t earn his money chasing criminals, wasn’t in a loving relationship with a gun, and hadn’t developed a complex early on by watching too many episodes of NYPD Blue.
Nevertheless, Jordan wanted to be fair and tried not to project her frustrations onto Ryan Fitzpatrick. Maybe he wasn’t an idiot like Gary, who’d given his gun a name and cleaned and polished her every day.
In hindsight, Jordan should have bailed after the first date. The moron had brought his pistol along to show her. But since Brad had arranged for her to go out with his new partner, she had indulged him …
“Surely you can throw together a simple stew,” Ryan murmured, sounding flabbergasted. “What woman doesn’t know how to cook?”
Jordan perched her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him. She might think him hot, but that didn’t mean she didn’t find the things that came out of his mouth revolting and stupid. “Excuse me?”
He shrugged and took stock of the collection of ingredients laid out on the counter. Jordan had placed them all there, naively thinking she would come up with something to do with them once she saw what was available.
Well, think again.
She didn’t even know what all the things she had taken out of the fridge were, and she definitely didn’t know how to prepare some of the vegetables. She was close to ordering a pizza for delivery.
“Didn’t your mom teach you how to cook?”
Jordan glared at him. “Did your mom teach you how to cook?” she hissed back.
His grin was dazzling. “She tried, yes, but failed miserably. But I taught myself a few tricks to impress dates.”
“Well, good for you,” she said icily. “But your comments are not helpful in any way.”
“Seriously, though.” Ryan Fitzpatrick cocked his head. “Even my sister, Kayleigh, who should have been born a boy, can cook,” he prodded further, oblivious to her mounting anger. “I’m really shocked. What woman can’t cook at least a few simple meals?”
Jordan was about to hit the roof. “And what man lets himself be chained to his bed by a woman he doesn’t even know?”
The handsome detective didn’t seem thrilled by t
he comeback. “Can’t we get over that already? Once you and I have reached the stage where we’re discussing baby names, I’ll maybe tell you how these things happen, but until then, let’s forget about it.”
Jordan waved a dismissive hand and used the other to massage the bridge of her nose. “You’re not as funny as you think, you know,” she warned him, not at all cloaking her barely suppressed rage, before dropping her voice to a whisper again. “And you’re not helping at all. So why don’t you leave me alone instead of distracting me with your stupid comments?”
But Ryan didn’t seem to be listening. “You should just tell Heath you can’t cook.”
Jordan was close to stabbing him with one of the many unfamiliar kitchen utensils. After all, she had no other use for them. “So all my colleagues can ridicule me?” she hissed at him. “No way!”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Heath’s a really bad cook. I’m sure he’ll understand your little problem.”
She chewed on her lower lip, feeling awfully insecure. She was unable to admit that she had fought so hard to finally be able to work at a fire station and prove she could do a great job, she didn’t want to reveal any sort of weakness now.
There were so many people just waiting for her to fail. Jordan didn’t want to admit defeat in an area that nobody was even thinking about—cooking!
She opened her mouth to give Ryan a dismissive answer, but just then Marty’s voice boomed: “Esposito! I hope what I’m smelling back there isn’t our lunch! I’ve already had food poisoning this year, and I puked all over my car. I don’t want to go through that a second time, hear me?”
“Yeah, Esposito,” Owen chimed in from his spot on the couch. The paramedic was lying there watching TV. “My stomach’s rumbling so loudly I can hardly concentrate on the show anymore. Can’t you speed it up?”
“Our recruit’s a woman, so her food will be especially delicious,” Jesse interjected, “and that takes a little more time.” He was the driver of the squad’s truck. “Show us what you got, Esposito!”
Jordan’s eyes widened in fresh panic. She frantically weighed her options. If only she could call her mom and ask for help! She stared back at Ryan, whose expression told her he thought the situation was hilarious.
“Help me!” she hissed.
“Me?” He looked down at the chaos she had already produced on the counter. “I’m supposed to help you?”
“Yes!” Even though it was hard, she added a forced “Please” and a similarly forced smile, which any madman could probably have mustered much more convincingly.
It turned out Ryan Fitzpatrick was not only an idiot but also a sadist. He enjoyed letting her stew before asking with only mild interest, “What’s in it for me?”
“What? Why should there be anything in it for you, beyond an edible lunch?” She swallowed against a lump in her throat. “What was in it for me when I cut you loose from your bed?”
“You’re starting with that again.” He clicked his tongue reproachfully. “I’m getting the impression you don’t really want my help.”
“Ryan,” she hissed under her breath and stuck out her chin belligerently. “I’m not jumping into bed with you just because you help me peel potatoes!”
He blinked in surprise. “Who said anything about sex?”
She snorted.
“Why are you so cynical?” His face was pure innocence.
Jordan didn’t buy it for one second. “So tell me what you want,” she demanded, hiding her nervousness behind a frown.
“Of course I don’t want anything for coming to your rescue,” he replied gracefully. “I was just trying to unnerve you a little more.”
She didn’t buy that either. “How stupid do you think I am?”
“Actually, I don’t think you’re stupid at all.” He shrugged off his jacket, revealing the white shirt he was wearing underneath, as well as his shoulder holster. Seeing his gun and the police badge at his belt was disconcertingly familiar and strange at the same time. She hastened to look elsewhere and focused on turning the stove off. When she looked up again, she caught Ryan looking at her with a smirk.
Jordan watched him roll up his sleeves, revealing taut arms she didn’t want to inspect too closely—at least not now, when he might notice her curious gaze.
She also felt strangely relieved when he stepped around the island, pushed her aside with a flick of his hip, and stated in a condescending manner, “Alright, darling, let’s see what we can do about this.”
Months ago, she had sworn never to sleep with another overbearing cop who called her darling and treated her like a naïve bimbo. As she watched his self-serving swagger, she decided she needed to forget what a delicious impression his naked body had left on her.
Chapter 6
Ryan stood in front of Jordan’s door carrying two heavy paper bags full of groceries. He asked himself if he really was desperate enough to give a woman cooking lessons in order to get into her pants. He had put this much effort into sleeping with someone exactly twice in his entire life so far: The first time, he’d just turned sixteen and had wooed Clara Macintosh, who was two years his senior, for several weeks until she finally agreed to sneak him into her room one night and take his virginity. The second time, he’d lived through four frustrating dates only to end up cuffed to his bed and face to face with the woman he was pursuing now.
To be quite honest, he wasn’t much of a cook himself, so he’d spent his day off watching countless cooking videos on the internet. He hoped he was ready to teach Jordan how to feed an entire fire station.
Normally he didn’t go to such lengths to impress a woman, and if he was honest, he didn’t expect fiery, tenacious Jordan Esposito to suddenly be all ready and willing to tear off her clothes and drag him into her bed, just because he showed her how to properly peel a potato. She appeared far too strong-willed and obstinate for that. Still, Ryan had seized the opportunity to at least get in her good books by helping her out.
And who knew, maybe the hot-blooded firefighter-in-training was into casual sex after all.
While he was still thinking about the possibility of the dark-haired woman with the penetrating eyes throwing off her clothes, she opened the door of her apartment, greeted him with a curt nod, and immediately turned her back to hiss angrily into the phone she was holding to her ear, “I fucking told you to leave me alone, Gary! No … I never said that, you asshole!”
Confused, Ryan stayed out in the hallway, watching his brother’s new recruit pace the tiny corridor of her apartment like a panther in a cage and breathe fire into her phone. He was shocked and perplexed to find her in only a pair of boxers and a t-shirt with a comic-book hero printed on it.
He didn’t know what’d expected for their pseudo date, but he knew it wasn’t this.
Apart from her toenails, which were painted bright red, there was nothing to suggest Jordan Esposito had prepared for their date in any way—or had a single thought on the possibility that they might end up smooching on the couch. What woman would greet a man she intended to sleep with in overlarge boxers and a tee, with her hair swept back in a messy bun? Jordan looked more like she’d been about to clean her bathroom when he rang the bell.
He might have felt disappointed, if it weren’t for her fight with the man on the other end of the line. It was wonderfully exciting to hear her call that man an inconsiderate jerk and threaten him with castration should he bother her again. Ryan listened with his mouth hanging open.
“No, you’re going to listen to me now, Gary! Leave. Me. Alone,” she demanded with lethal determination. “I’m absolutely serious. Next time I’m sending Luke and Logan after you—and if that isn’t enough, I’ll come by your house and kick you in the balls!”
After another string of swear words that made even Ryan blush, Jordan slammed the phone down on a delicate side table and balled her hands into fists before turning back to Ryan in a brisk motion that made him think of the military. She fixed him with an angry stare.
/>
If he wasn’t carrying two shopping bags, he’d have automatically raised both arms, her face was that menacing.
Before he could open his mouth, she planted her hands on her hips and snapped, “Do you intend to grow roots in the hallway? Come in, damn it!”
It didn’t sound all that inviting, but Ryan wasn’t frightened off easily, especially when her legs looked promising in those boxers.
“Good evening to you, too,” he said casually as he stepped inside her apartment, looking around with blatant curiosity. “Nice place.”
Maybe nice wasn’t the right word. It was rather spartan, with a focus on functionality instead of pink girlishness, but Ryan thought it better not to irritate her further right now. He let his eyes roam the narrow corridor, discovered several pairs of tennis shoes and a basketball on the floor next to the door, and then noticed a laundry basket piled high, topped with gym socks and black panties. Through a doorway on his right he caught a glimpse of her living room, which also didn’t look as if Jordan expected a visitor. A crumpled-up sweatshirt hung over the back of the couch, and the coffee table was graced with an abandoned plate of crumbs.
It looked like his own place, more or less, which he only cleaned and tidied if he was expecting either his mom or a new lady visitor.
He realized with amusement that Jordan had been silently watching him check out her apartment and returned her critical gaze with a steady look. He knew he was playing with fire, but couldn’t resist. “Am I too early,” he said nonchalantly, “or have you just not found the time to put your place in order yet?”
“If you want an orderly place, call Better Homes and Gardens or visit my mom’s house,” she shot back, lifting her chin. “You know where the door is.”
Geez, this woman didn’t just have a razor-sharp tongue, she seemed to be downright bloodthirsty, Ryan thought with an undisputable glimmer of interest. Of course he didn’t intend to give up so quickly. He shook his head slowly. “I climbed three flights of stairs. I’m staying. So, do you want to stay in this lovely hall, or are you going to show me the rest of the apartment?”
All Tied Up (The Boston Five Series #4) Page 6