by Jan Irving
“How much does it pay?”
“I have no idea. I can find out.” He waited, listening to his own heart beating in painful suspense as she paced, her high heels clicking on the asphalt. He found himself staring at the bare globes of her butt before he yanked away his gaze. Goddamn, he’d kidnap her if he had to, but she was not working here without him to look after her!
“It’s less than what I make here,” she mused. “But I wouldn’t have to be at the office until two-thirty a.m.”
“No.”
“The boss here doesn’t miss an opportunity to pinch my ass. Would I have to worry about that with you?”
His skin heated in another damnable blush. “No.”
“Too bad.” She looked a little wistful. “I wouldn’t mind a spanking from the boss.”
“A…what?”
She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “I’ll let you think about it.”
Holy shit, she was a little kinky. And he was so not going to be able to sleep tonight picturing her in her thong in his beige office, her rear end pinkened by his hand.
“Not fair, Dharma.”
“I know, but you’re making me consider quitting my job, so I figure you deserve it.”
“I couldn’t make you do anything, honey. You’d take my head off.”
Her eyes glinted. “Oh, I can think of a few things you could make me do. And we’d both enjoy it.”
He was breathing hard. Her gaze slid down his chest to the front of his pants.
“Dharma…”
She closed her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry, I’m being bitchy. It’s just… Most people judge me. I hated you seeing me working here because I thought—”
“I don’t judge you. I just want to protect you.”
“Again, that is so retro.”
“I know.”
“I guess you wouldn’t jump into burning buildings if you didn’t need to rescue people.” She lifted the hem of her borrowed T-shirt.
“What are you doing?” Sweat broke out on his forehead.
“Giving it back to you. I’m going back inside to tell Armando I’m starting my vacation tonight.” He opened his mouth to argue with her, but she raised an eyebrow. “I need to quit for me, so I’ll take the time off, try out this secretarial gig and see how it goes. If I like it, then I’ll quit working here, but it’s not smart in this economy to do that without knowing if I’ve got a sure thing.”
It was pragmatic good sense. Too bad he hated the hell out of it. “When will you quit working here?” he pushed.
“I’ll do one more night as a test case after my vacation. If it doesn’t feel right…” She shrugged.
He’d find a way to make it totally not feel right. “So can I drive you home?”
She frowned. “I’m almost done for the night, but I don’t need you to do that.”
“I didn’t see your car.”
“Took the bus. Oh, all right, drive me home.”
“Please leave my shirt on.” He smiled at her, feeling more at ease with his almost-victory. “I’m willing to beg.”
She gave him a direct look. Then she brushed her mouth very gently against his. It was a kiss that could have been just between friends. “I’d like you to make me beg.” Her meaning was clear. “You better keep that wedding ring on, because if it ever comes off, I’m coming after you.”
He balled his fists to keep from tangling his hands in her hair. He was relieved she was at least half-dressed. The truth was, he didn’t want Taz or any of his men to see her half naked and assume she was free.
Even though he had no right, even though he was too old for her, he wanted Dharma to be his woman.
Chapter One
Dharma muttered under her breath.
“What was that, young lady, are you using bad language again? Your mother and I despair…”
The censoring voice made her jump so she hit her head on the top of the file cabinet. She swore, this time with both venom and volume and looked over her shoulder at her nemesis in her new job—the legendary fire hall heartbreaker, Taz, his nickname short for Tasmanian devil.
“Screw you.”
His eyes heated and he gave her ass a long, lingering look, obviously mentally stripping away the demure cotton of her skirt. “Now?”
“You can’t be serious!”
“I’m always serious about fucking,” he said with apparent sincerity.
And with Taz, that’s all it would be. He would give a woman—or the occasional man—his cock, but he wasn’t the type to sugar coat a fuck.
“How is it you’re able to sleep around so much? Are women that desperate?”
He grinned. “I make ‘em that way.”
“I bet.” She didn’t underestimate the power of a man who stood six feet five, with bottle glass green eyes and black tangled hair that looked like it had been tousled from a demanding female hand. Right now Taz had his arms folded as he watched her, biceps bulging from all the hours he spent either on the beach with his surf board or working drills at the fire hall.
“I told you I’m not interested.” Her cool glance of dismissal only seemed to amuse him.
“I heard you, tigress.”
“Don’t call me that.”
His eyes were half slitted as he continued to consider her. “Better to play with me than a married man, sweetheart.”
She ignored his shot about Fred. She didn’t want to reveal that he wasn’t exactly married because she figured it was Fred’s secret to share. And anyway, she was not pursuing her sometime boss, much as she damn well wanted to. The most she’d done was rename her vibrator Fred. “What a joke, you using ‘sweetheart’.”
He grinned again and Dharma couldn’t help but laugh at him. That’s how she’d always handled Taz, laughing at him when he hit on her. She thought he might actually enjoy their little battles though she bet he’d definitely take her up if she ever gave him a clear ‘go’ signal.
He was a born predator.
And a damn sexy bastard.
She knew he’d be unbelievable in bed. Too bad she was so crazy about a bashful older man who couldn’t see his own appeal.
“Do you have any work to do, other than stalking me?”
“I’m worried about Fred.”
“Why, is something wrong with the girls?” Fred’s office was utilitarian except for all the vivid photographs and artwork from his daughters. They lit up the room.
“I was hopin’ you could tell me.”
Dharma’s gut tightened. Fred had been quiet lately. She’d caught him staring into space a couple of times at his desk, which was not like him. He was driven by his job and she knew the only reason he didn’t work insane hours was his daughters depended on him. “I don’t know what it could be.” Her lips tightened. “But I’ll find out.”
“Good girl.”
“You so set me up to do your bidding,” she drawled.
“Too bad doing my bidding doesn’t translate to sex.” He shrugged, but she couldn’t be annoyed with him over his prompting her to dig into Fred’s life. Taz might be a heartless slut, but when it came to his friends, he was protective.
“I’ll let you know if it’s something he’d want you to know.” She sighed, standing up to rub the curve of her aching back.
“Not doing too much, are you?”
She flushed, knowing he was referring to her periodic arrhythmia. A few months ago when she hadn’t been sleeping well, she’d eaten half of a caffeine-laden chocolate brownie and suffered an attack. She’d managed to freak out her friends and earned a trip to the ER, where they’d slowed her heart down with a drip that had taken hours.
“No, it’s unlikely to come from low impact activity like this,” she said. “And anyway I take my mini strength aspirin so I’m golden.”
“Make sure you keep taking care of it.”
“Taking care of what?” Fred growled as he appeared in the hallway. “Are you flirting with our borrowed admin again?”
Taz raised his hands. “She’s all y
ours,” he purred.
“Just what does that mean?” Fred blushed, but Taz was already striding away.
Dharma took a moment to study Fred. His hair was cut close to his skull, but somehow Dharma had the impression he’d been shoving his hands through it. He looked tired and pale under the tan he had from all the time he spent out of doors. He trained constantly with his men and women, despite all the paperwork and hassle of his job.
She leaned against her desk, folding her arms, levelling her best gunslinger look at him. “What’s up?”
His brows rose. “You do realise you work for me, right?”
“I can care about you as well as work for you. Something’s not right, Fred. Taz picked up on it as well, so you have us both spooked.”
Fred held her gaze, then gave a curt nod. “Come into my office.”
Without speaking, Dharma followed him, but something in his manner had her heart thumping and heavy rocks weighing down her gut.
He closed the door softly behind them, gave her a look she couldn’t read then stepped behind his desk to stand and look out the window which faced the driveway cooking under the hot sun, heat waves rising like smoke off a grill.
“You’re scaring me.” Dharma’s fingers dug into her palms.
“I never told you that shortly after meeting you, I asked my wife for a divorce,” Fred admitted flatly. “I guess you inspired me to try to change my life for the better, kind of how I really want you not to go back to work at that dive.” He gave her a pointed look so she’d know he hadn’t forgotten the issue with her working at the bar. “Months ago, when I hired a private investigator and tracked her down, she was working in a cafe in Tucson.”
It hurt to hear about his wife. She knew they’d been separated for years, but the woman had a claim on Fred.
“So?”
“So now she’s met someone and plans to remarry.”
“You told me she left you years ago.” He hadn’t said he didn’t still love his wife, Dharma remembered with a sharp splinter to the heart.
He rubbed the back of his neck, his T-shirt damp from a recent run, his body hard and muscled and everything she’d ever wanted. She wanted to tug up that shirt and lick his tattoos. “She wants time with my girls, Dharma. Half the year at least.”
Dharma blinked. “Excuse me?”
He spun to look at her, his eyes burning like a gasoline fire. “Stacy and Mattie. My wife wants them back part time.”
“But…they’ve been with you for years. They live with you.” Dharma knew because all the years she’d served him coffee he’d told her about Stacy’s softball game or how Mattie was dead set against getting braces for her slight overbite.
He covered his eyes. “Oh, hell.”
“Fred.” She moved around the desk and reached out to touch his tense back then just let her hand fall, muttering, “Screw it.” She put her arms around him from behind, holding him. “Your wife just can’t take your children. If she wanted them so much, why hasn’t she been in the picture?” In all Fred’s proud stories of his kids, she’d never heard anything about his wife. It was like there was a black hole in his family that he never spoke about.
He gave a snort that sounded wet with tears. He still had his eyes covered in the manner of a man who didn’t like anyone to see him give way to emotion.
Oh, Fred. Oh, God, baby… She shoved those words deep inside. He didn’t need her sympathy right now. He needed a friend he could talk this out with.
“The man she wants to marry is big on family and he has the money to support one. He can’t understand why Marilyn doesn’t have the children,” Fred said. “She’s never shown much interest in them, but I think she wants to put on a show for him. It kills me that they might fall for her act, might get hurt.”
Anger burned. “Fred, you’ve raised them. Your wife just split and left them, so surely that counts for something?”
“I don’t know.” He sounded impossibly weary. “Judges still favour a mother taking the children.”
“But you have all kinds of contacts. I know you won’t let her do this. Come on, you’re just worried because you see it as your job to keep them safe.”
Fred’s muscles tightened. “I’m afraid,” he whispered. “Dharma, I’m afraid.”
“Fred.” Only his name. She couldn’t think what else to say. She wished she had the power to make everything all right.
“You’re such a beautiful father to those girls. Just last weekend you went through a roll of bills to win Stace a stuffed tiger at the fairground shooting gallery.”
He looked surprised. “You knew that?”
“You told me, remember? Over coffee on Monday morning. You were short a quarter so you told me why.”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “Yeah, I was short cash.”
“And you helped Mattie build a model of the Parthenon for her history class. It’s pretty kick ass.”
“It is.”
“These are your children, your girls.”
“I’m afraid that no matter what I do, they’ll be hurt.”
Her gut clenched. “That’s not right.”
“Oh, Dharma…” His tone reminded her that he saw her as too young, too idealistic. Her jaw hardened.
“It’s not right. What are you going to do about it?”
“I’m going to talk to the girls.”
She nodded, wishing he didn’t have to do that but knowing he could handle it. He might not see it, but she knew he’d die to keep them safe, to keep them from being hurt. And despite how bashful with her he sometimes seemed, she knew from watching him in the fire hall that no one pushed him around. “Can I…help somehow?”
“No.”
No, of course not. It was a family thing. She was his friend, she ached to be his lover, but she hadn’t really been introduced to his children.
She was on the outside.
“Fred, you’ll keep your family safe. You’re my hero, remember?”
“Am I really?” He looked like he ached to be her hero.
It hurt her heart the way he looked at her.
“I haven’t been courageous. I shut down when she left. Until I met you.”
“I don’t blame you. You had to take care of your family.”
He cleared his throat. “Trust you to see that.”
She gripped his face, rubbing the sides of his cheek and hearing the slight rasp of his whiskers against her palm. He closed his eyes under her touch.
“Fred.” Longing. Need. Anger. Comfort. She kissed him, arms tight around his neck, her lush body plastered to his hard frame.
“Oh, Jesus, you don’t know what you do to me. Dharma! You don’t know…” He was kissing her back. His big hands cupped her bottom, lifting her and suddenly she was on the edge of his desk. She could feel him, and oh, he was big. She felt an unaccustomed flash of nervousness.
His hand was on her calf, sliding up to where her body needed him.
“Dharma…” He was trembling as he laid his forehead against hers.
“Don’t,” she choked. “Don’t pull away and say I’m too young for you.”
But he stepped back from her, reaching out and smoothing her hair out of her face.
“I respect you too much to—”
“I don’t want just your respect,” she growled. Then she hopped off the desk, her body hurting. “Damn it, I’m sorry! You have too much on your plate right now. That got out of hand.” She blew out a shaky breath.
He nodded, his face hard, grim, but his eyes still burning. He made no effort to conceal how his body still needed her. She had to drag her gaze away from the intimidating shape of him outlined by his pants.
“Thanks for…listening to me.” He avoided her gaze.
Emotion gripped her throat. “Anytime.”
A hard knock on the door broke the moment.
“Yeah?” Fred called, all male authority again.
Luke Cade stuck his head in. “Fred, we’ve got a situation at that shell of a gas station
that burned down last week. Two kids went inside on a dare and the structure has collapsed.”
“Shit!” Fred reached for his hard shelled helmet and his fireman’s heavy coat then brushed past her, following Luke at a run.
Dharma wrapped her arms around herself, knowing Fred would somehow find those kids and make them safe.
Her real life shy hero.
Chapter Two
Fred lay in moonlight spilling like silver over his king bed, staring up at the stars traversing across the skylight above.
The girls were asleep at last.
He’d burned dinner and hadn’t bothered to eat any himself, finally ordering pizza. Tonight he’d told his children about their mother’s upcoming wedding plans.
Stace had taken the news too quietly. Fred thought that, like him, his oldest daughter had been waiting to see if Marilyn would just come home one day and life would go back to the way it used to be. Of course, that hadn’t happened. He’d known in his gut his marriage was over years before she’d left. She’d emailed him a flippant note, filling him in on her new life.
Back then, he hadn’t shared the revelation with the girls.
Protecting them. He’d been protecting them. He couldn’t bear it if they thought that Marilyn’s new life was more important to her than her children.
She’d been living with a travel agent. Since then, Marilyn had never come home, never seemed much interested in hearing about Stacy or Mattie.
The worst had been the birthdays.
Fred had been sure she’d send a card for Stacy’s birthday, even just email her. Stacy had nagged him to check every day. Finally, he’d taken the coward’s way out—he’d picked up a birthday gift for Stacy and told her it was from her mother.
Fred had got quietly drunk that night once the girls were in bed.
Of course he’d called Marilyn from work, but she was disinterested. For Marilyn, their children had been an accident. She’d got pregnant with Stacy and they’d decided to get married. He’d known it wasn’t the life she’d wanted.
Marilyn wanted to be an artist and somehow that didn’t mean marriage and family. She’d teased him often enough about how his love of his career and duty was boring and predictable…but she’d loved sex with him, loved running her hands over his muscled body, sketching him. The longer they were married, the harder it had been for him to feel anything but empty, anything more than the stud who held her down, gave her the rough, demanding sex she loved. Then one night he’d come home and she’d been gone.