Burn (L.A. Untamed #2)

by Ruth Clampett

  The next day continues to be Joe-less and I’m frustrated. I’ll never get to second base with him at this point. Is he mad at me, or something? Because now I’m getting pissed at him. I mean, what the hell?

  I channel my anger and do weeding in the garden and chores around the house. I’m climbing the walls by sundown so I go for a long run and come home to a hot shower. I’ve just pulled on my clean sweats and a T-shirt warm from the dryer when my doorbell rings.

  His hands are jammed down in his pockets. “Didn’t you hear me knocking?”

  I shake my head.

  He looks pissed all right. Well that makes two of us.

  “What were you doing?” he asks.

  “Taking a shower. What? Did you think I was avoiding you?”

  He shrugs and averts his eyes.

  “Well I could say the same about you. Where’ve you been?”

  “Around.”

  I nod and look down. Could this be more awkward?

  He rubs his hands over his face and then reaches his hand out toward me. “I came over to say something.”

  This doesn’t sound good.

  I open the door wider and gesture toward the living room. “Okay. Come on in.”

  He nods, and walks over to the couch and sits down.

  “Want anything to drink? Water? Bourbon? Gatorade?” I ask.

  His eyes widen. “No thanks.”

  I settle down on the opposite end of the couch from him. “So what’s up?”

  “Why didn’t you talk to me—warn me, before that interrogation with Chief the other day?”

  “Interrogation? Really?”

  “Yes, that was shitty. And why didn’t you respond to my texts on the way back from our call? I needed to see you, or at least talk to you.”

  “I was asleep.”

  “How about when you woke up?”

  I shrug. I can feel his irritation.

  “I see. So this is how it is? Can I ask you one thing?”

  I shrug again. “Sure, what?”

  “Why the hell did you let me kiss you that night?”

  I purse my lips. “I don’t know.”

  “You. Don’t. Know.” He says it again without the dramatic pauses, “You don’t know.”

  “Nope.” Why the hell am I lying? What the hell is wrong with me?

  He turns to me with an infuriated expression and dark, angry eyes. I know it’s messed up but I think he looks hot. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss him and now that he’s sitting in front of me every one of my nerve endings are on fire. He just looks so damn good.

  What the hell is happening to me? I just took a shower, dried off, and now I’m wet between my legs. I want to climb his tree, butter his biscuit, and ride him like a stallion . . . all at the same time. Good Lord.

  Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his sexy knees. A second later he rips off his leather jacket, and as he pulls it off his sleeve pushes up and I see the edge of a tat. My nipples get hard. I swear they do.

  “Okay, McNeill. Here’s the thing. Have you read the Station Book of Rules and Regulations? There’s a rule about fraternization on page twenty-eight.”

  “I know,” I say with a sigh. “I reread it this morning.”

  He purses his lips and nods. “Okay. Then you know that as long as you stay at the station we can’t fraternize. Are you staying?

  “Yes, I am,” I reply.

  He’s staring straight ahead, but he shakes his head and slaps his knees. “Okay then, so whatever happened between us the night before last, let’s just pretend that it never happened okay?”

  “Sure,” I say.

  “You stay away from me, and I’ll stay away from you.”

  “Right,” I agree while pressing my thighs together and wondering if I have a pair of clean panties. I hope so because the ones I’m wearing are getting wetter and will definitely need to be changed.

  “So you’re fine staying away from me?” he asks, his voice a little choked.

  “Yeah. I guess so,” I reply in a low voice as I rest my hand on his thigh. Damn his thigh is hard as a rock. I’m surprised but pleased that he doesn’t push my hand away.

  His gaze drops down to where my hand is placed and he lets out a long breath. “And I’m not going to kiss you, even though I knew you really liked it when I did, but I’m sorry . . . no can do.” He shakes his head vehemently.

  I want to laugh at that one, and how insincere he sounds, but I can’t because I’m too busy trying to keep my panties from combusting. I’m pretty sure they’re my only clean pair.

  “You know, I’m pretty sure you liked it too.” As I spread and tighten my fingers over his leg, I swear the heat rising up from him is burning my hand.

  His jaw tightens and he rolls his shoulders forward.

  My thighs are actually quivering. I look down to observe the phenomenon. I’m pretty sure they’ve never done that before. So to test them I rise up, swing my leg over and shift until I’m straddling Lieutenant Joe Murphy. When I fully sink down onto his lap I receive the information that maybe he likes me being there.

  “Oh God,” he moans with a dizzy look like he’s going to pass out. “What are you doing?”

  Leaning in, I whisper in his ear. “Sitting on you. I like how this feels.” I wiggle and sink farther into his lap. He gets the idea.

  He nods, closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, I swear I see fire.

  “What do you want?” he asks, his hands resting on my hips.

  “How about just a kiss? Kind of to test things out again,” I whisper as I place a hand on either side of his face and pull him toward me.

  He’s not resisting but he’s not exactly helping get the party started either. I forge ahead because I’ve been holding in all these big infatuated feels and I need to let them out before they just burst out of me and scare him.

  When our lips meet this time I’m the one kissing him and I kiss him like I mean business. I put my heart and soul into this kiss, my lips consuming his breath, his heartbeat, his heat. I feel his grip on me tighten as he presses his fingers into my flesh. I moan long and deep when he pulls me down over where he’s hard for me. Damn, like everything about him, he’s big. So big.

  I kiss him again and again as I press against him. I’m stunned. Fooling around has never been even close to this desperate and hot, and even better . . . we’re just getting started.

  “Wait a minute,” he says with a gasp as he pulls away from me.

  “What?” I ask, feeling perplexed.

  “You’re so damn confusing. What’s going on here?”

  “I just really wanted to kiss you. You aren’t enjoying this?”

  “You need to ask me that? I thought it was pretty self-evident.” His head falls back and he takes a deep breath.

  “Why don’t I keep going then? We can get each other so worked up that it won’t matter if we’re confused.”

  “Good God,” he groans, rubbing his face. “You’re wearing me out, Trish.”

  I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mean the good kind of wearing someone out.

  “Sorry about that,” I murmur, although I’m not exactly sure what I’m apologizing for. I slide off his lap so that I’m sitting next to him on the couch.

  He nods, his expression suddenly looking very far away.

  “So where were you today?” I ask.

  “With Nicole.”

  My porcupine spines prickle and stand up.

  “And what were you and Nicole the muffin maker doing?”

  “Talking about you.”

  “Really. What did she think?”

  “Well at first she was surprised about us.”

  “Us?” I ask. I bite back a smile. I like the sound of that.

  “She thought you’re gay, but I assured her otherwise.”

  I scoff. It’s not the first time nor is it the last I’ll be called that. Any woman who is perceived as outwardly strong, and not overtly feminine is in q
uestion. It’s bullshit but I refuse to be stereotyped. “Well she was wrong.”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty clear on that.”

  “Why did you talk to her about me?”

  “I wanted to get a woman’s perspective.”

  I suspect her perspective wasn’t going to be helpful. “So what did she say?”

  “That I shouldn’t be with you—that there’s too many reasons why I shouldn’t.”

  “I not surprised at all. She doesn’t want to share.”

  He huffs. “I told you I haven’t been with her in a long time.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want you to be. So what do you want to do?”

  He rubs his hands roughly over his face. “Maybe we need to slow down.”

  I pull back. “Yeah. It wasn’t smart, us kissing like that.”

  “No, it shouldn’t have happened. I promise you that I’ll control myself next time.”

  “Good. You do that,” I say even though I know I’m the one who provoked him, not the other way around.

  “But hey, you were the one who climbed onto my lap, straddled me, and wiggled all over me.”

  “Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have done that either.”

  He shakes his head. “Nope.”

  I bite my thumbnail. “Okay, sounds like we have this figured out.”

  He nods. “Okay good.”

  I sort of thought we were kidding each other about not kissing me but now he seems pretty serious.

  As he pulls his shirt down, I gesture to his crotch. “You’re really well endowed.”

  He arches his right brow and side eyes me. “So I’ve been told.”

  “Maybe one day you could show me,” I sigh.

  “Trisha,” he says with a growl. “Seriously, what’s going on in that crazy head of yours?”

  “I can’t help it. You bring out this side of me.”

  He groans.

  “You don’t like that idea?”

  “Oh believe me, I really liked kissing you and all. But I don’t think either of us are ready for this. Besides, it’s not smart for me to fool around with my co-worker and quasi landlord.”

  “Landlord? I hadn’t thought of it like that. So that means I’m lord of your land,” I chuckle.

  “Are you high?” he asks.

  I shrug. “Maybe on endorphins. Between the run and that awesome kissing I’m overflowing with them.”

  He stands up and straightens himself out.

  “You leaving?” I ask.

  He nods.

  “So just friends from now on?” I ask, secretly hoping he’ll change his mind.

  “Yeah, just friends. No benefits.”

  My heart sinks but I put on a good face and give him a smile. “Okay then, guess I’ll see you around.”

  Chapter 12: Crack in his Armor

  Vulnerability is our most accurate measure of courage. ~Brene Brown

  I have no idea how I’m supposed to act around him at the station anymore. Even though we agreed to be friends, I feel like I’m holding in the biggest secret of my life. To prevent losing control I don’t watch him eat with that sexy mouth at lunch, or consider grabbing his ass when no one’s looking. That stuff is kid’s play, and my thoughts for him are a serious, class-A obsession.

  Maybe this is just that worked-up time when you first start falling for a guy. Today you have him on your mind twenty-four, seven, and tomorrow you’re bitching at him about leaving his crap all over your place.

  But deep down I think this is something more.

  I’ve never been amped like a billboard in Times Square. The most lust I ever had with a man was a buzz. Every night I’m alone in my station bunk is spent imagining him in bed with me.

  So Friday morning I’m in the day room refilling my mug with coffee when Joe strolls in wearing his dress uniform.

  “Going to a funeral?” Bobo asks.

  He gives him a long look. “No. It’s Bailey’s retirement luncheon, remember?”

  “From the Sherman Oaks station? Oh yeah, sorry, dude.”

  I try not to stare at Joe, but damn, that man with his perfectly fitting uniform, clean shave, and polished shoes makes me want to stare at him until the image is permanently etched in my brain. What is it about a good-looking man in a uniform?

  It’s sweet torture knowing how it feels to have him kissing me senseless with his arms around me, in contrast to how cool and controlled he seems right now. His gaze shifts over to me and I glance down, sensing that my cheeks are on fire.

  “What are you working on, McNeill?” he asks.

  I blink. “Finishing up a report from last night’s call in Reseda.”

  He nods, looking official.

  I’d like to put my fingerprints all over his shiny badge just to see a crack in today’s armor. I bite my lip. He’d probably make me shine it up again.

  Good Lord. Why does the idea of that make me hot? I avert my gaze again.

  “We need you to go on the business inspection run today with Scott. Jim got called away.”

  “Okay.”

  “You mean, ‘yes sir!’” Bobo teases.

  I arch my brow at him. “Really, Bozo? You want to go there with me?”

  I can tell Joe is fighting back a smile.

  He throws up his hands, perhaps remembering our meeting with Chief. “Sorry, sorry!” he says.

  As Joe walks out, I stand up and gather my things, then silently follow him out of the room. He’s already several steps ahead of me, giving me a perfect view of his broad shoulders and perfect ass. He walks in a steady gait as if he isn’t even aware I’m behind him, but when he gets to the office door, instead of stepping inside he turns and leans against the wall so he can watch me pass. When I’m by his side I pause, my gaze meeting his, but giving nothing away.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  I don’t answer right away, just take in his presence and the faint smell of his cologne. I’m sure I’m projecting pheromones like a cat in heat. It makes me feel reckless so I check the hall to make sure we’re alone.

  I give him a long look, letting my gaze slowly travel down his body and back up.

  “Okay?”

  He nods, his gaze intense.

  “Well I still have my private thoughts about us. I won’t ever forget how it felt sitting on your lap . . . kissing you . . . you kissing me back,” I say quietly.

  His sharp cheekbones color.

  “But it’s good we’re friends. It’s the smart thing. I know I can be reckless, but you’re a smart man.”

  I give him one more look, hoping that he’s feeling drawn to me, at least a little bit, since I’m so powerfully drawn to him. This time as I turn and continue down the hall he suddenly speaks up.

  “You know, Trish, somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known,” he says.

  I stop and turn around. “Is that from another one of your books?

  He nods. “Carl Sagan.”

  I smile. “I like that.”

  The corners of his mouth turn up and there’s a spark in his eyes.

  His expression gives me a glimmer of hope, and I respond before continuing on, “Maybe one day you’ll let me borrow that one too.”

  Later, Ma calls me, and it’s clear she’s cast her reel to go fishing . . . into my private life.

  “So how are things at the station?”

  “Fine.”

  “I hear your lieutenant has been very kind to you.”

  I’m going to kill Paul.

  “Yeah, he’s nice to everyone,” I lie.

  “Well, why don’t you bring him to dinner this week?”

  “No, why would I subject him to that? He’s a nice guy, not a masochist.”

  “See, I told your father you wouldn’t bring him. So I’m going ahead with my original plan that he tried to talk me out of.”

  “Which would be?” I break out into a cold sweat. Ma is unrelenting once she gets an idea in her head.

  “I’m going to bake hi
m a cake and write thank you on it with fancy lettering that I saw in a magazine. Is he on duty tomorrow? I’ll bring it by then.”

  Thank you?

  “Thank you for what?”

  “Well, he’s been nice to you in this difficult time. He must be a very patient man.”

  I’m about to drill her to find out what exactly she meant by the patient man quip, but I’ve got bigger fish to fry.

  In my mind I picture Ma in the station’s day room, cutting up pieces of cake for the guys while grilling them about their personal lives. Every tiny hair on my body is standing up from the sheer horror of the idea. I’d never hear the end of it.

  Over my dead body is this going to happen.

  “Ah, I don’t think so, Ma. There are rules against that,” I say.

  “No there aren’t. I already called your chief and asked if I could. Of course I’d include all the men, not just your lieutenant.”

  “He’s not my lieutenant! Wait . . . you called my chief?” I can feel my eyes bugging out of my head.

  “He was quite lovely about it. He said that if he was away at an inspection, to make sure and save him a piece.”

  Every muscle in my body is so tense that I may explode. I slip on my bullshit vest cause it’s about to fly.

  “You know, Dad’s right. On second thought, it’d be nicer if I just brought him over. That way the whole family could meet him. He’s a nice guy and a friend.”

  “Lovely,” she says. “I’m so glad you agree.”

  Agree my ass. I just got my arm twisted out of its socket with her maternal subterfuge.

  “And he is just a friend Ma, got it?”

  “Whatever you say, dear. It’s so nice that you have a new friend and now we get to meet him.”

  We’re on the way to my parents’ house and Joe’s eye is twitching under his sunglasses.

  “I honestly have no idea why I agreed to this,” he murmurs, gazing out the window.

  “So I wouldn’t make you move Betty off my land.”

  He glances over at me with an irritated expression. “You were joking about that, weren’t you?”

  “Yeah. But I wasn’t joking about Ma showing up at the station with a cake for you. I really don’t need to give those guys another reason to make fun of me.”

  “I suppose not. They wouldn’t be kind . . . to either of us, if she did that.”