Authors: Lori Foster
She scrunched up her brow. “Dane caught a guy screwing around on his wife.” Disgust dripped from her tone. “Dane was pissed when he came in to file it. Said the wife was real sweet and better off without the guy, but that she was bawling her eyes out.”
“Shame.” Harris didn’t want to marry, but if he ever did, he knew he’d be a faithful hound. He thought spouses who cheated were lower than slugs. If you wanted to screw around still—as he did—then you shouldn’t say the vows.
Clair pushed a little harder, her feet eating up the ground with a rhythmic slap, slap, slap. “I wouldn’t cry.” Her hands balled into fists and she picked up her pace even more until they were running instead of jogging.
“What would you do?”
The seconds ticked by and she slowed, gradually going loose and limber once again. With an evil, anticipatory grin, she said, “I’d take a ball bat to him.
Then
I’d leave him.”
“Effective.” Harris laughed. “But I think that’s illegal.”
“Yeah. Well, I’d find some way to make him pay—”
A slash of white lightning illuminated the entire area, followed by a crack of thunder that seemed to rip the night. They both pulled to a startled halt.
“Wow.” Clair propped her hands on her knees, breathing hard, wide-eyed in awe of Mother Nature’s display.
“This is nuts. Come on.” Harris grabbed her arm and hauled her toward the main street. “Time to head back.” Normally they’d take the long route to extend their jogging time, but now Harris just wanted to have Clair safely out of the storm.
She didn’t protest, but then that was another of Clair’s assets—sound common sense. He’d found it rare for people to have both book smarts and everyday logic. But Clair had both, which was another reason he liked her so much.
They were within minutes of their apartments when the rain turned into a deluge, soaking them through to the skin in a matter of seconds, making visibility nil. The sewers couldn’t handle the flow and the streets filled like creek beds, washing icy water up past their ankles. With the help of the wind, the rain stung like tiny needles, making Harris curse. Trying to protect Clair with his body, he steered them toward a closed clothing shop and into a dark, recessed doorway. The opening was narrow, forcing them close together. Clair didn’t seem to notice the intimate proximity.
Her hair was plastered to her skull, her entire body dripping. She shivered, but she didn’t complain. “You think it’ll let up soon?”
Another fat finger of lightning snaked across the ominous sky. The accompanying thunder shook the ground beneath them. “No. But we’ll wait here a few minutes to see.”
With a sigh, Clair pulled off her glasses, now beaded with rain. Lifting her pullover, she located a dry patch on her T-shirt beneath, and wiped them off. In the process, Harris got a peek at her belly. Not much of a peek, considering it was dark as Hades and she stood so close her elbows kept prodding him. He narrowed his eyes, straining to see her better.
She noticed him peeking—and flashed him, yanking both her pullover and tee above her breasts for a single split second. Startled, Harris shot his gaze up to her face.
She grinned. “There, did that take care of your curiosity?”
He almost strangled on his tongue. “No.” It took his brain a moment to assimilate what he’d seen, and then he asked, “Is that a sports bra?”
Laughing, Clair elbowed him, harder this time so that he grunted in discomfort. He crowded closer still, stealing some of her warmth and hindering her more violent tendencies.
“Yeah, as concealing as a bathing suit top, so put your eyeballs away. You didn’t think I’d actually show you anything important, did you?” She tsked. “The rain must have made your brain soggy.”
“I saw a flash of white,” Harris argued, “and didn’t know if it was boobs or cloth. Can’t blame a guy for wanting clarification.”
“I don’t have enough boob to go around showing them off.”
In the crowded confines, with icy rain blowing in against his back, there was no way to get comfortable. Harris flattened one hand on the wall behind her and leaned in a bit, inching farther away from the storm—and closer to Clair. With his gaze zeroed in on her chest, he murmured, “You have enough,” and he meant it.
“Spoken like a loyal friend. Thanks.” And before Harris could say more on that topic, she went on tiptoe to look over his shoulder. “Hey, the rain’s letting up a little. Looks like the worst of the storm is moving away from us. Let’s get home before we freeze.”
The rain
was
cold, and with it, the temperature had dropped by at least ten degrees. Not that Harris was especially chilled. Discussing a woman’s upper works with her, even a woman he wasn’t intimate with, had a decisive effect on his libido. Given that the woman was also pressed up against him—well, he was having some surprisingly lascivious thoughts. But then, he’d been on a month-long, self-imposed dry spell. Under those circumstances, just about anything could turn him on.
Maybe on his next day off he’d have to break down and take his chances with a little one-on-one comfort of the female kind.
Together, he and Clair continued on their way, not jogging now, but not exactly taking their time either. Since Clair stayed silent, Harris had too much time to think. About her boobs.
He gave her body a surreptitious look without turning his head. The cold had tightened her nipples, and with her clothes wet and clinging, there was no way to miss it. His pulse sped up a bit, doing more to warm him than their jaunt.
The snug sports bra didn’t allow for much jiggling, but he judged her to be a B cup. Plenty enough there to fill his hands. Well, not
his
hands, but some other guy’s... No, he didn’t like that thought either. Not that he had any claim on Clair other than friendship. But the idea of her snuggled up and intimate with some faceless, nameless bozo didn’t sit right. Harris shoved the disturbing image away and concentrated on her comment.
Why did women assume men were only drawn to pinup models? A woman was a woman was a woman. Each different, each sweet and soft in her own way.
“Hurry up, slowpoke. I swear, my granny could move faster than you.”
Maybe not so sweet, Harris admitted to himself with a grin. But definitely soft. He fell behind another step and took in the sight of Clair’s full bottom. No lack of curves there. Yep, even egghead jocks were soft when you looked in the right place.
Clair turned to face him, walking backward. “Want a cup of hot chocolate? I’m going to make me some.”
Her glasses were beginning to fog over, her ponytail was more out of its band than in, and water dripped from her ears.
Harris shook his head. “Can’t. I’m on first shift this week. I need to get home, shower, and hit the sack.” As a firefighter, Harris had a rotating schedule. The good part was that every third week he got extra days off, and the third week was rolling around.
“Okay.” They were only feet away from his apartment building. Clair turned back around to head across the street. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
Harris took swift advantage. The moment she presented him with the opportunity, he landed a stinging swat on her behind. Given that her shorts were wet, it had a little more impact than he’d intended.
Her hands slapped over her butt in shock. Before her gasp of outrage had a chance to fade away, Harris darted to his side of the street, barely muffling his chuckles. “Good night, Clair!”
He bounded up the steps to his apartment, but waited at the door, watching as he always did until Clair had time to get inside. She rubbed her bottom as she climbed her own steps, muttering and casting him dirty looks. Moments later, a light came on in her living room, then Clair was at the window, waving to him. Harris waved back.
At first, Clair had objected to his protectiveness. But he’d worn her down until now she did the routine by rote. While he waited, she went in and checked out her place, then waved to let him know she was safely inside. Alone.
One of these days she’d have a boyfriend to look after her. But until then, Harris didn’t mind keeping watch. In fact, he insisted on it.
Within half an hour he was showered and stretched out in bed, his hands folded behind his head. He should have been relaxed, but instead his naked body hummed with tension. He listened to the drubbing of rain on the windows, the continual rumble of thunder, and he watched the strobe effect of the lightning on his ceiling.
Storms always made him horny.
Touching women’s butts made him horny.
Was Clair making him... No. He scoffed at himself, even laughed out loud in the silence of his dark room. That was just nuts. He wouldn’t think about her that way.
Determined to get to sleep, he closed his eyes, metered his breathing—and saw again that flash peek of Clair’s belly and sports bra. He groaned, and gave up the fight, allowing himself to ease into a very vivid dream where he stripped Clair naked, kissed her from head to toe, and loved every minute of it. The dream was both disturbing in its intensity and comforting in the rightness of it.
Sometime during the night, the storm knocked out the electricity. His internal clock woke him to a dark house and street, and the continuation of the storm. Without being able to make coffee or catch the morning news, he headed into work early. And good thing, too, because not five minutes after he dashed through the pouring rain into the station, the fire alarm went off. Lightning had struck the back of an abandoned building and someone saw smoke.
When Harris caught the address of the building, his heart shot into his throat. It was his block—
right next door to Clair.
Not since his first year as a firefighter had he suffered the debilitating effects of fear, but damn it, he felt them now. Even with the drizzling rain, the high wind could spread a fire quickly. Without electricity, Clair might sleep late, unaware of the danger. Worry plagued Harris all the way to the location.
But the moment the fire engine blared onto the street, Harris saw the crowd. Umbrellas formed a large canopy around the area, as if everyone had crawled from their beds and braved the weather for a show. Clair still looked sleep-rumpled under her cheery red umbrella, but she was fully dressed and in charge of things. In typical Clair mode, she urged curious onlookers farther away from possible harm. Harris was so relieved to see her he nearly fell off the truck. But knowing she was safe, he put her from his mind to do the job he’d been trained to do.
The storm was a real bother. Even through his Bunker Gear of fire-retardant jacket and trousers, helmet, and pull-on boots, he got soaked. The fire hadn’t done too much damage yet, mostly to the exterior rear wall where the lightning had hit.
The abandoned structure had been up for lease for over six weeks and wasn’t in the best of shape anyway. There were already broken windows in back and debris everywhere. In the process of putting out the blaze, a forgotten metal Dumpster in the back alley got knocked over. It was packed full, but luckily, not with the type of trash that got more disgusting with time. Mostly papers, probably from the previous businessman. In less than an hour, they had everything taken care of. The rain had let up and the sun even struggled to shine through the gray clouds.
Harris pulled off his helmet, wiping soot and rain and sweat off his face. He was contemplating all the mess, both from the spilled trash and the damage of the fire, when Ethan, a fellow firefighter and one of his best friends, let out a whistle. Harris turned, saw Ethan riffling through a shoebox from the Dumpster, and raised a brow. Usually that absorbed expression on Ethan’s face was reserved for his wife, Rosie. Harris went to investigate.
“Whatcha got?”
Without looking up, Ethan said, “Pictures of a naked woman.”
“No shit?” Harris forgot his fatigue for the moment and muscled his way next to Ethan. Yep, sure enough, that was an unclothed female. A very sexy, naked female. “Wow.”
Harris picked up one photo of her reclining facedown on a twin bed. Her mussed hair was long enough to hide her face, but who cared when she had a beautifully bare backside on display? Harris tried, but he couldn’t look away.
“Check out this one.” Ethan handed him another.
The same woman, judging by the shape of her body, was stepping into the tub. Again, she had her face averted as she moved the shower curtain aside, but this shot showed her entire body in profile. Breasts, belly, long sleek thighs. Harris let out a slow breath. “
Hello
sweetheart.”
“Wonder if she lives around here,” Ethan commented. “Or maybe she was the last one to lease the building.”
“The last person here was a guy. I never met him, but I saw him occasionally.” Harris peered toward the shoebox Ethan held. “Any more pictures in there?”
“One more—of her pulling on her panties.” Ethan laughed. “You still can’t see her face, but it’s a damn fine rear shot.”
Feeling strangely territorial, though he didn’t know why, Harris snatched the photo away from Ethan. “Let me have that.”
“Hey, I was going to keep it.”
“No way. You’d just show it to Buck and Riley.”
Ethan raised both brows. “So? How come you get to look and we don’t?”
“You must’ve forgotten, but you and Riley are married now.”
“I’m still swimming in marital bliss, so how could I forget?” He grinned as he said that.
“Then think what Rosie will do,” Harris murmured while studying the photo with rising heat, “if she catches you ogling some strange naked woman.”
Looking much struck, Ethan said, “She’d probably kill me. Here.” He shoved the entire shoebox into Harris’s arms. “There are notes and such, too. Maybe an address, since you’re so interested. And so single.”
Wincing, Harris said, “Don’t tell me you’ve taken up the campaign to get me hitched, too?”
“No, I like women too much for that.”
“Ha ha.”
“But Rosie wants you and Buck both married so I can’t be around any of your single female friends.” With a lot of satisfaction, Ethan added, “She’s a jealous little thing.”
“She trusts you.”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t trust the women you two date.” Ethan strode away, giving orders as he went.