by Jo Raven
“Fine, I’ll send him back.”
My mouth gaped open. “Dex!” That was the last thing I wanted him to do. But he was already gone. Spinning around, I searched for the towel I usually kept close to wipe my hands on. I was scrubbing the dried, caked ingredients off my fingers when I heard a throat clear.
“I was told to come on back. I hope that’s okay?”
Damn, would I ever get used to that deep, husky voice? I brought my head up and looked right at Ken’s smiling face. He looked good—too good—standing in my doorway, in my kitchen with his arms spread out to his sides, his hands gripping the doorway. He leaned against the jamb just enough to make the muscles in his arms thicken, stretching the sleeves of the navy shirt. There was a golden firefighter emblem over his left pec, giving me a little thrill. I was dating a firefighter.
“Of course, you’re always welcome back here.” Considering that he’d already seen what a mess I was, I gave up trying to clean myself, and tossed the towel aside. Picking up the spatula standing straight up in the metal bowl, I gave the batter a few more whips. “What brings you by?”
Walking deeper into the kitchen, Kennedy approached my side of the counter and leaned his hip into it. “I was craving more of those cookies.”
“It’s always about the cookies,” I said teasingly, shaking my head.
A shiver tracked through me when Ken traced a finger lightly down the back of my arm. “I have a weakness for sweets.”
I heard the double meaning in his words, and had to work to concentrate on finishing my task. These brownies weren’t going to make themselves. “It’s a good thing that you’re here then. Sweets are my specialty.”
Kennedy leaned closer, setting his mouth against my ear. “That’s why I came to the expert. What are you doing tonight?”
Dragging a baking pan across the counter, I hefted the bowl of batter against my chest and passed him a questioning look. “Why, are you asking me out?” Damn, the bowl was heavy. I would have thought by now, after the hours of whipping and beating and kneading, my arms would be a little less wet noodle and a little more taffy, but they were weak with too many hours of endless baking. I felt the weight of the bowl taxing what was left of my strength and knew I needed to hurry up and fill the pans before I dropped it on the floor.
“Here,” Kennedy said, reaching out and taking the bowl from my arms. “Let me help you with that.”
Surprised, I stood back and let him slide into the space I had just occupied. “Fill it to just half-way,” I instructed.
“So, I wanted to take you to dinner tonight, if you’re up for it,” Kennedy said as he followed my instructions. I smiled at his profile, watching proudly as he picked up the spatula and began filling a second pan, scraping the bowl clean in the process. I hadn’t even had to tell him.
“You have experience in the kitchen,” I pointed out.
Setting the bowl aside, Kennedy turned toward me, leveling his bright eyes on me as he brought his hand to his mouth and wrapped his lips around the fleshy area between his thumb and forefinger, sucking away the batter that had transferred there from the bowl. “It’s a needed skill. I take turns with the other guys at the firehouse cooking and cleaning. Picked up a few things.”
Intriguing. “What kinds of things?”
A playful smile crept up, tilting the corner of his lips. “Maybe I’ll show you sometime.”
Oh, boy. Yes, please. “Maybe,” I said slowly. I began clearing the counter to make room for my next project. “So, where would you be taking me?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“And if I don’t like surprises?” I countered.
“You’ll like this one.” The smirk he wore now was full of something close to the same wickedness I’d seen in Dex’s smile just before he sent Ken into my kitchen, but Ken’s was more. It was dark. Dangerous. Full of promise. Full of something I couldn’t begin to name. Whatever it was, it made me tingle…everywhere. I had no doubt that I would like whatever he had up his sleeve.
“Time?” I asked, turning my attention to cleaning up the workspace in order to mask the nervous excitement now coursing through every cell in my body.
“What time can you get out of here?”
I glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. It was after one in the afternoon. “I close up at three,” I told him.
“I’m sure you’ll want to shower and change first?”
Ideally. Looking down at my clothes, splattered with all manner of baking ingredients, I asked, “What makes you say that?”
His lips twitched and he took a step closer, closing the distance between us. Picking up my hand, he lifted it up between us, bringing my fingers to his mouth. Unable to take my eyes away from his, I held my breath as I watched his lips part. The brush of his wet tongue against my fingertips sent a bolt of white hot desire zipping through my body. I felt the pinch of my core as it contracted, then exploded into flames that heated my blood to boiling.
Kennedy sucked my fingers until they were clean before slowly pulling them from his mouth. “Mmm,” he groaned low in his chest. “If you want to skip the shower, I’d be more than happy to make sure you get clean.”
It was a good thing that Ken was an expert at putting out fires, because I was certain that I was about to combust. Aside from what I thought might be a flicker of heat in his eyes, Ken didn’t appear affected by his advances. At least not at the same level I was. Feeling slightly off-kilter, I tugged my hand back. “I can be ready by four. After I shower and change.”
He gave me a knowing look. “Where do you live? I can pick you up.”
My head was already shaking. “I can meet you.” One date had turned into two. That had never happened before, and part of me was a little overwhelmed with the prospect. I would need the extra few minutes to clear my head and prepare myself. Date Number Two. Amy was going to shit herself when she found out.
He studied me for a moment, and then nodded. “Okay. Station eight.”
“I know where it is,” I told him. I passed by it often on my way to the grocery store. In the summer, sometimes I would catch a glimpse of the firefighters outside in just a pair of shorts, hosing down the trucks. I combed my memories, wondering if Kennedy had been among them, but I couldn’t place him.
Touching my arm, Kennedy leaned in and dropped a quick, but scorching kiss on my cheek. Drawing back slowly, his eyes held mine. “See you later,” he murmured.
All I could do was nod and look on as he brushed by me and sauntered from the room. My cheek burned where his lips had made contact, and I wondered if his kiss would be just as powerful once they were pressing against mine. Shaking myself from my stupor, I glanced at the clock on the wall.
One…two…three…
“Holy, shit! A date? A date!” Dex burst into the room right on cue, his face alight with excitement. “Did I hear that right? Is my Abby Cadaby going on a freaking date?”
“You heard right.” I grinned.
“Not like that, you’re not,” Dex sneered, looking me over. “Jesus, did you get any batter in the actual bowl?”
“What?” I looked down at my spattered clothing, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.
“What, she asks,” Dex muttered to himself. “That man was hot, and you need a good scrubbing.”
“I know. He told me,” I said.
“He told you?” Dex sounded affronted and I couldn’t help giggling a little.
“Yep, and he said he would be more than happy to help me get clean.” My grin grew wider as Dex’s jaw unhinged. “He also may have suggested that he would use his tongue to do it.”
“Holy. Shit. Are you sure this guy is straight? Cause he sounds like exactly what I have been searching for all my life.” I burst out laughing. “Seriously, what are you still standing here for? You aren’t nearly as dirty as you need to be.” Snapping his fingers, Dex pointed to the pantry as he headed for the fridge. “You get the chocolate syrup and I’ll get the vanilla frosting.”
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br /> Chapter 6
I raced through a shower and did all my lady business in record time, hopping in my car with only minutes to spare. Thankfully, I was able to fend off Dexter’s attack; otherwise I would likely still be scrubbing chocolate from my cleavage. Light traffic and a lead foot had me pulling into the adjacent parking lot as the digital clock on the radio changed over to four on the dot.
Turning off the engine, I stared at the brick building warily, wondering what the hell I was doing. For the first time in a long time, my nerves were rattled. Kennedy was the first man I had dated—really dated—in forever. This was our second date, which indicated a certain level of seriousness was brewing, and I felt like a fish out of water. Here I was, a celibate single woman who had, thus far, only dated the occasional weirdo.
Now, I was going on my second date with a guy that burned my socks off my feet with just a look. Already, just sitting inside the stuffy confines of my car, I felt more exposed than if I were completely naked in front of a roomful of people. In just a few short moments, I would be walking into a place full of men I’d ogled every summer since I could remember, and one of them was mine. What would I say? Would they like me? Did I choose the right outfit? Would I—
The knocking on my window startled me, and I jumped. Twisting my head around, I saw Kennedy, bent slightly at the waist, smiling down at me. “You coming in?” he asked, his voice muffled. “Or should I wait until you pass out from heat exhaustion and rescue you?”
My smile was instant, and so was the vibrant blush I felt rising up on my cheeks. He stepped back and I inhaled deeply. Tossing my keys into my purse, I popped the door open and swung my legs out. Kennedy’s hand shot out, palm up, and I took it, allowing him to help me out. “Thanks.”
“Anytime, pretty lady.” He leaned in, and not knowing how to proceed—kiss him?—my brain fritzed out and I turned my head at the last second to give him my cheek. He kissed me, and the simple, friendly act made my knees grow weak. “I hope you brought your appetite,” he said to me as he laced our fingers together and guided me inside.
The firehouse was exactly what I had expected as we walked inside. There were two fire engines parked at the head of the building, perched just inside the open garage doors. Kennedy walked us right between them, giving me an up close and personal view of all the buttons and knobs, and hoses that looked like they weighed a ton.
He gave me a brief tour, showing me where they kept their gear, where they ate, showered, and slept. His bed was one of many, all lined up in a single room, dorm style. Or an orphanage. Either would be accurate.
As I scoped the place out, there was one thing that seemed out of place. “Where is everyone?”
Kennedy shined his clear eyes on me and smiled. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
Leading me by the hand, he took us back through the garage to a door opposite the one we entered through. The bright sunlight gleaming off a glass-top table temporarily blinded me, which was probably a good thing because it gave me time to collect myself. My senses perked up at the sound of deep male voices.
“Guys, I’d like you all to meet Abigail Satcher.”
Immediately, I pasted on a smile that turned genuine the moment my vision cleared and I caught sight of the group of men standing around the small, intimate patio, all eyes on me. They were gorgeous, all bright smiles and hard muscles. The scene reminded me of a pin-up calendar—one I had paid good money for in the past—a hot firefighter for every month of the year. Suddenly feeling a little shy, I raised my hand and gave a small wave. “Hi.”
The man standing to my right, the one I just noticed manning the smoky grill, switched the tongs from his right hand to his left, and offered it to me. “I’m Jack,” he said with a smile that revealed a set of dimples. He cast his gaze out to each of the men. “And that’s Blake, Darrel, Jessie, Ray, Bob, Alex, and Art. It’s nice to meet you.”
I smiled a greeting to each of them, my memory already blanking on their names. “Nice to meet you all,” I said pleasantly. Then, because I felt awkward and didn’t know what to say, I focused on the one thing I knew a little about. “What are you working on over there?” I asked, lifting my chin toward the grill.
“Oh.” Jack’s smile widened. “Just a few of the basics. Brats, dogs, burgers, ribs, wings, corn cobs. You know, a light afternoon snack.” He laughed, patting his flat stomach. “You guys are sticking around, right? There’s plenty for everyone.”
The rich smell of burning charcoal mixed with sizzling meat made my mouth water, and my stomach suddenly felt very empty. I looked to Kennedy in askance. Reading the question in my eyes, he gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Yep, that’s the plan.”
If this had been his plan, to invite me to a weekend brunch with the boys, then color me pleased. Despite my earlier apprehension, now that I had been introduced and could see that these men were just…men, some of the tension in my shoulders was beginning to ease.
Kennedy dug a couple of bottled waters from a large cooler and passed one to me, then claimed a corner of the patio. Leaning into the iron railing, he pulled me in front of him, aligning my back to his front. It was a very forward movement, something that I normally wouldn’t expect from a second date, but the heat and hardness of his body against mine made me feel more at home in this foreign territory, and I welcomed it.
A couple of the guys, whose names I couldn’t even begin to recall, came over to chat. They shared stories about Kennedy, about some of the runs they had been on with him, how daring he was, how courageous. They told me of some of the pranks they played on each other around the house, making me laugh so hard my eyes watered and my stomach hurt. All the while, Kennedy kept one arm around my waist, holding me close.
We stayed on the patio for over an hour, eating and drinking, sharing tales. Kennedy told his friends about Sweetest Temptations, which set off a round of questions and praises that made me blush as much as it made me proud. They loved my treats, describing their favorite one, wanting to know what else I offered. It seemed I had gained lifelong clients, and since Kennedy knew the owner—me—personally, he had been tasked with keeping them in full supply.
I was still smiling from the conversation we were just having as I walked to the garbage to toss mine and Kennedy’s paper plates, when the toe of my sandal caught one of the wooden planks and I pitched forward.
An alarmed squeak escaped me, but it was enough to grab Kennedy’s attention. As I crashed down, I heard plastic chair legs slide loudly across the deck. Unfortunately, Kennedy was not Superman and he had no super speed.
“Jesus, Abby, are you okay?” The question came in several different tones, from several different voices, and from all directions. The one I focused on belonged to the man already knelt in front of me. His attention was fixed on me as he gently rolled me onto my back. I saw the tension in the fine lines around his eyes as he studied me, searching for injuries. I also saw concern as he located the area of my knee where I could feel it beginning to burn with the prick of a thousand needles. And I could see regret, the kind that probably comes from being a hero who didn’t make it in time.
“I’m okay,” I grunted, attempting to reassure him. “It’s just a scrape—Ouch!! What the hell?” I looked down, seeing Jack crouched at my feet, his thick, calloused fingers probing my wounds. “Do you mind? That’s raw flesh you’re manhandling.”
“Sorry.” Funny, but he didn’t look the least bit sorry at all. I’m thinking it was the slight smirk that gave him away.
Kennedy moved in closer, positioning himself behind me and framing my head in his hands, stopping me from unleashing holy hell on his friend. “Stay still for me, Abby. I want to get you checked out and make sure you didn’t get hurt anywhere else.”
I looked up at him, seeing his assessing eyes roaming over me and I could tell right away that he had shifted into professional fireman mode. One of the guys picked up my hand and pressed two fingertips into my wrist, staring at his watch as he took my vitals. Jac
k had moved on from my knees and was now scoping out my abraded palms. Everyone else had moved on and was either eating again, or talking. But they were all focused on me in some way or another, and I felt the telltale heat of embarrassment begin climbing into my cheeks.
“This really isn’t necessary,” I told Kennedy, keeping my voice low. “I don’t need any more attention than I am already getting.” I felt like a complete idiot, although I shouldn’t. People fell all the time, right? Right.
His eyes dropped to mine and his lips twitched. “Just let me take care of you. It’s good for my ego.”
I rolled my eyes. Well, when he put it that way, how could I deny him?
A moment later, Jack stood, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “The wounds are superficial. Just a few scrapes. They probably sting like a sonovabitch though, am I right?”
I could have told him that.
Satisfied with his friend’s assessment, Kennedy helped me to my feet. “Hell, yes, they do,” I declared, grimacing as the skin on my knees shifted, highlighting the prickle of pain where air kissed broken skin.
“Ray?” Kennedy asked, turning his attention to the guy who checked my vitals.
“Everything is good, man.”
Seemingly satisfied with their verdicts, Kennedy cupped my elbow and tugged me toward the door. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
I followed him through the firehouse’s main floor to a private bathroom where he grasped my waist and deposited me on the edge of the sink counter. Without a word, Kennedy dug around in the cabinet below my feet. When he came back up, he held the makings of a first-aid kit.
Slipping my sandal off, Kennedy set it on the counter beside me, and then placed my bare foot against his chest, pressing just hard enough to keep it in place. I felt a string of butterflies fluttering in my stomach on contact, but I found that I liked where I was—in Kennedy’s strong, capable hands.
“You don’t have to do this,” I told him, but my protest was weak, even to my own ears.