Red Hot

by Lisa Childs

  He wanted to know that. But he couldn’t resist seeing just how much passion lurked beneath that beautiful surface. So he stepped closer to her as he said the rest, as if he meant the words for her, “You can’t even wait until I’m finished, you want to get laid so badly.”

  His head snapped back as her hand connected—hard—with his face. His skin stung from the force of her slap. While she was petite, she packed a wallop. That wasn’t quite the way he’d wanted to test her passion. So he jerked her up against him and lowered his head.

  2

  FIONA LIFTED HER hand to slap him again. But he caught her wrist and jerked her more tightly against him. The heat and dampness of his sweat-slick bare chest penetrated her suit jacket and blouse, burning her skin.

  Or was that just her anger?

  She was flushed with it, trembling with it. And appalled by it. She had actually struck another human being. And if he hadn’t caught her wrist, she would have struck him again. A gasp of shock at her own behavior slipped through her lips.

  His blue eyes widened as he stared down at her. His face was close to hers—so close that she’d been sure he was going to kiss her. But he abruptly released her and stepped back, so quickly that she swayed slightly on her heels before regaining her balance.

  She trembled, probably from the force with which her heart pounded in her chest and her pulse raced. With anger. It could only be anger. She hadn’t actually wanted him to kiss her. He was beyond arrogant. He was obnoxious.

  As if to prove it, he threw back his head and let out a loud laugh.

  “I should have slapped you harder,” she remarked. He’d certainly deserved it.

  Still laughing, he shook his head. “I wasn’t saying that to you.”

  She gestured at the room, which was empty but for the two of them and all those weights and machines. “I’m the only one here.”

  “But I didn’t know you were the one who’d walked in,” he said.

  Her skin heated with embarrassment as she realized he spoke the truth. He’d been flat on his back on that bench, lifting the weight bar. He hadn’t even glanced up before he’d spoken. He must’ve just known someone had walked in because he’d heard her heels hitting the floor.

  “You’re the last person I expected to show up here,” he continued.

  So he had been expecting some other tense and edgy woman who couldn’t wait for him to finish before getting laid. Not that she was tense and edgy.

  Well, she was—but with outrage, not desire. Her gaze kept slipping, though, down to his chest. To all those muscles, his skin glistening with sweat. A bead trickled from between his pecs and trailed over washboard abs to disappear into the waistband of his shorts.

  Her throat suddenly very dry, she struggled to swallow. And to pull her gaze up—back to his face. But that wasn’t much better. His square jaw was dark with stubble, and his black hair, slick with moisture, clung to his muscled neck. Her fingers itched to touch his face again, but not to slap it. Then she met his eyes, saw the amusement there, and she reconsidered…slapping him.

  “Why are you here, Fiona?” he asked, his mouth sliding into a slightly crooked, sexy-as-hell grin. Sounding almost hopeful, he added, “Are you feeling tense and edgy?”

  She lifted her hand even though she had no intention of losing control enough to swing it. “Do you want me to slap you again?”

  “Are you into that?” he asked and arched a black brow over one of those twinkling eyes. “I didn’t figure you for the S&M scene. Didn’t actually figure you for any scene. Didn’t think sex was your thing…”

  She didn’t know what infuriated her more. That he’d thought about her and sex. Or that he’d thought about her not having sex. Ever.

  She wasn’t frigid. Not at all…

  At the moment—standing too close to his sweat-slick, musky-smelling body—she wished she was, though. Then she wouldn’t have noticed how muscular he was. Muscles bulged in his arms and chest and back. Did he spend all his time in the gym?

  Or in some woman’s bed?

  His gaze skimmed down her body to her high heels. “But now I can see the whole dominatrix thing.”

  “I’m here because I’m mad,” she admitted. If only she could have controlled her temper long enough to realize that it was pointless to try to talk to a man like Wyatt Andrews. He was infuriating. “And you’re only making it worse.”

  “We aren’t equipped to put out those kinds of fires here,” he remarked.

  “Pointless,” she murmured as she spun on her heel to turn toward the door.

  Long fingers wrapped around her arm, tightly enough that she jerked against his grasp as she tried to walk away.

  “Wait, wait,” he said. “I can try to help. Why are you mad?”

  “Because of you.”

  He sighed. “I told you I didn’t realize you were the one who’d walked in—”

  “No, I’m not mad about that.” Not anymore. Not now that she had calmed down enough to be rational. Of course he hadn’t known who’d walked in. Since she’d driven over here anyway, she might as well talk to him. She drew in a deep breath to brace herself and turned back around to face him. “I want to talk to you about my brother.”

  His hand dropped from her arm and he stepped back. “Has he done something?”

  “You know what he’s done,” she said. Since she was pretty sure it had been Wyatt’s idea, or at least his influence. “He’s dropped out of college in order to join the Forest Service Fire Department.”

  “So why, exactly—” he spoke slowly, as if he were dealing with someone unstable “—are you mad at me?”

  “Because he wants to become you.”

  His mouth curved into that slightly crooked grin again. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  God, he was arrogant. But maybe he had a reason to be. He was sexy as hell—so sexy that women were apparently unable to wait to have sex with him.

  “Pointless,” she murmured again. “I made a mistake coming here. I can’t reason with you.” She could barely reason with herself at the moment—his bare skin and rippling muscles were too distracting.

  “I don’t know what you want to reason with me about,” he said, “but I’m willing to talk to you.”

  Frustration gnawed at her. She had practiced her argument the entire drive across town. But now she could remember nothing of what she’d rehearsed.

  “Let me shower first,” he said, “and change. I’ll meet you at the bar around the corner and you can reason with me.”

  She doubted that. “Why?” she asked.

  He arched the brow again. “Why what?”

  “Why are you willing to talk to me?” She’d expected the arrogance and the argument. She hadn’t expected him to be open to reason or even to a conversation. “I thought you had a date.”

  She swallowed a groan as she remembered that she had one. She had intended to call Howard on the drive across town to cancel their date. But then she’d gotten distracted rehearsing what she would say when she confronted Wyatt Andrews. All those words had left her mind the moment he’d made his suggestive comment.

  He glanced to the doorway behind her and remarked, “Here’s my date now.”

  So much for that conversation. She doubted he would pass up a sure thing to instead just talk to a woman he’d figured was frigid. She turned around to leave and to check out his date. But a man—as tall and muscular as Wyatt—blocked the doorway. He was the one who had directed her where to find Wyatt.

  The man laughed. “You should be so lucky as to date me.”

  Wyatt grinned. “You wouldn’t turn me down,” he said. “You’re so tense and edgy, you’d definitely go home with me at the end of the night.”

  Both men laughed. But Fiona failed to see the humor. Her pulse quickened instead. Was Wyatt expecting her to go home with him at the end of the night?

  “If you’re busy…” They could do this another night. That didn’t mean that he wouldn’t expect
her to go home with him that night, too.

  “Have you changed your mind about making me listen to reason?” Wyatt teased.

  The other man laughed again—harder. “If he’s willing to listen to reason, you should take him up on that,” he advised. “And we didn’t actually have any plans. He’s just messing with me.”

  Was he just messing with her, too? Probably. But she hadn’t driven across town to just yell at him. Or slap him. She’d wanted to talk to him—to get him to help her. His influence was why Matthew had dropped out of college; he was the only one who could get her brother to change his mind and get his life back on track.

  “The bar around the corner?” she asked. “Which way?”

  “To the right,” he said. “I’ll be there before you finish your first drink.”

  She had no intention of drinking with him. And she definitely had no intention of going home with him.

  She wanted only to talk.

  But since she wasn’t going to see him with so few clothes on again, she couldn’t resist letting her gaze slip once more—over his chest and down his six-pack abs. She was definitely not drinking with him; she couldn’t risk losing control. And because she never risked losing control, she hadn’t built up a tolerance for alcohol. She was the proverbial lightweight when it came to drinking.

  If she had too many drinks, she might go home with him. She jerked her attention away from all that naked flesh and muscle and turned toward the door.

  “I’ll be there right after I hit the shower,” he promised.

  And an image of him standing completely naked beneath a spray of water sprang to her mind. Her skin flushed again and heated more than it had with her temper. She quickened her step. Because of the heels, she couldn’t run. But she had the urge to run—and to keep running.

  *

  THE WOMAN HAD some ass, wriggling inside that snug skirt as she walked away. But Wyatt wasn’t the only one watching her leave. Braden actually craned his neck to stare as she turned outside the door and headed down the hall.

  When she’d disappeared from sight entirely, the captain finally turned back to Wyatt and let out a low whistle. “I hate to admit it, but you might be right about me,” he said. “What bar are you meeting her at? The Filling Station?”

  It was the only bar around the corner. But Wyatt wasn’t about to point that out to his boss. Feeling tense and edgy himself, he shook his head. “Not her.”

  Braden whistled again. “It’s not like you to stake a claim. Thought you didn’t get attached…”

  “I’m not,” he protested. “Not at all—especially not to Fiona.”

  “Fiona…” Braden murmured wistfully. Or lustfully…

  Hearing the lust, Wyatt smacked the other man’s shoulder. “Hey, she’s a friend’s sister, so she’s off-limits.” At least to him.

  Braden snorted. “I’ve met the sister of every man on the team.”

  Wyatt believed it. Braden was the kind of superintendent who made it a point to meet the families of all his team members…though for a couple of them the team was the only family they had. Wyatt’s parents had been killed when he was eleven. And another one of the guys—Cody Mallehan—had been an orphan, too.

  Braden continued, “She is not related to any of them.”

  “I have friends outside the team.” Because of the wives who had made them give up the jobs they had loved. But she wasn’t related to any of them, either. “She’s the sister of one of the kids I’ve been mentoring.”

  Except that Matt wasn’t a kid anymore. So he should be able to make decisions without his sister’s interference. Even if those decisions were wrong, he needed to figure it out for himself—not have someone berate him for it. Matt had told Wyatt that Fiona was bossy and controlling, which was part of the reason why the half siblings weren’t close. The other part was that they hadn’t been raised together.

  “Then she’s not off-limits to me,” Braden pointed out. “I think I will join you at the bar.”

  Wyatt smacked him again—a little harder. “She’s off-limits to you, too.”

  “I may have met most of the kids you mentor…”

  Because Wyatt had brought them around the firehouse. He hoped he hadn’t inadvertently influenced Matt’s decision to try to join the Forest Service Fire Department.

  “But I’m not friends with any of them,” Braden continued.

  “That’s not why she’s off-limits to you,” Wyatt said. “She’s off-limits because she’s the type of woman you need to avoid.”

  “What type is that?” Braden asked. “Sexy as sin?”

  “The type that wants you to make a commitment and then gives you ultimatums or walks away,” Wyatt warned him. “And you’ve already had one of those.”

  Braden sighed. “It’s not always the wife who gives the ultimatums, you know.”

  Wyatt narrowed his eyes and studied his friend. “Do you want to talk?” he asked. “I can cancel with Fiona…” But his stomach muscles tightened, his gut clenching in protest.

  Why? She was probably just going to yell at him. She had been pissed even before he’d made his inappropriate comments to her.

  “Maybe you should,” Braden said.

  So his friend was finally ready to talk—to really talk. He’d said some things before, when he and his wife had hit their rough patch. But he hadn’t explained the situation and how it had led to a divorce so quickly.

  “I will if you want me to,” he offered. Selfishly he hoped that Braden didn’t want him to. “I’ll have to run over to the bar and let her know, though.” Since he didn’t have her number…

  He’d known Matt for six years, but he’d barely ever seen or talked to the guy’s sister. As Matt had said, they weren’t close. So why was she so upset over his career aspirations?

  “But then we can talk,” Wyatt said. “As long as you want…”

  Braden laughed. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

  “Well, I was just kidding about the sex earlier,” Wyatt joked. “You’re not my type.”

  Braden smacked his shoulder now. “I’m just saying that maybe you need to take your own advice.”

  He was a little sexually frustrated himself—more so since Fiona O’Brien had walked into the weight room and slapped him. And he’d touched her…

  He might have kissed her if she hadn’t tried to hit him again. That had brought him to his senses. He had no business kissing a woman like Fiona, let alone having sex with her.

  He shook his head. “No…”

  “You’re warning me to steer clear of women like her,” Braden reminded him. “Maybe you should, too.”

  Wyatt laughed. “But I’m in no danger of falling for her.” For any other woman, either, but most especially not a woman like Fiona. He wanted nothing to do with bossy and controlling.

  “She’s beautiful and sexy,” Braden said. “Yeah, no danger at all…”

  “No,” Wyatt said again.

  But moments later he turned the water cold as he stepped into the shower. After that passionate encounter with her, after nearly giving in to the temptation to kiss her, he needed to cool off. But no matter how cold the water was, his skin was still hot. His blood still pumping fast and hard through his veins.

  She was beautiful and sexy. But he had known plenty of women just as hot. And he hadn’t fallen for any of them.

  He was not going to fall for Fiona O’Brien.

  3

  “WHERE ARE YOU?” Howard asked, his voice squeaking in her ear. Not that he had a squeaky voice. It must have been the bad cell reception and the noise in the bar that made his voice sound so whiny and petulant.

  Fiona considered walking out to finish the call on the street. But then she would lose the booth she’d found in the back of the crowded bar. And she would have to walk past all those guys who’d whistled at her when she’d walked in. Since she was one of the only women in the place, she hadn’t been particularly flattered. The other woman was heavily muscled and t
attooed and had also whistled at her.

  She pressed her mouth against the phone and said, “I had to take a meeting.”

  “In a bar?” he asked. And there was definitely petulance in his tone.

  She couldn’t blame the cell reception. And she couldn’t blame him for being upset that she had canceled. She should have been flattered that he was so disappointed. But was he disappointed or merely irritated?

  Of course, she hadn’t canceled until he was already on his way to the restaurant where they met every Friday night. A nice restaurant—not a place like this with a loud jukebox, louder patrons and peanuts crushed against the scarred wide-planked wooden floor.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “But something’s come up with Matthew—”

  “Your brother.” Now a sigh, one that sounded long-suffering, rattled the phone.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. Did she talk that much about Matthew?

  Sure, she was worried about her brother; she had been worried about him pretty much since the day he was born. She’d only been six at the time, but she was the one who’d rushed to him every time he’d cried. She was the one who had been there for him…until she’d been taken away. After her stepfather’s death of a drug overdose, her paternal grandparents had decided her mother was unfit to raise their granddaughter. They’d sued her mother for custody of her and won—taking eleven-year-old Fiona away from her five-year-old brother.

  Fiona wanted to be there for Matthew again. But he wouldn’t let her. Maybe he resented that she’d left him. That hadn’t been her choice, though. The judge hadn’t listened to what she’d wanted. And now Matthew wouldn’t listen to her, either. He only listened to Wyatt Andrews.

  “Well, I’ll let you get back to your meeting with him,” Howard said.

  She opened her mouth to correct his misassumption that she was with Matthew. Would he be jealous over her meeting another man in a bar, though—even if it was just to talk about her brother?

  But before she could say more, he continued, “I’ll see you next Friday.”

  “Why not before?” she asked.

  Wyatt hadn’t been talking to her when he’d been teasing about being edgy and tense. But he could have been.