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Authors: Anne Marsh

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BOOK: Burning Up
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Something she hadn't calculated on or planned for.
Why would he play the white knight for her?
“Eat with us,” he coaxed. His fingers curling around her wrist sent her catapulting right back to that night at the pond. Some things hadn't changed. The little grin tugging at the corners of his mouth was still pure mischief.
“I'm not hungry,” she grumbled, but she sat. Awkward silence reigned at first, but she filled that by passing out Nonna's bounty. She'd never met a man who'd pass up a free meal, and Nonna was a great chef.
“It always this hot?” One of the newer men on Jack's team volunteered this little conversational nugget. Jack sat back to see how she would respond. Weather up here in the jump camp was more than just polite small talk, she knew, and, sure enough, all heads at the table swiveled, watching her.
“It's summertime.” She shrugged. “Hot and dry. Always that way up here. Maybe we get a few showers, but most of us will be irrigating heavily before the month is up.” She knew all about watching the sky and praying for rain clouds. When the water dried up, the drought stressed her lavender. Stressed plants meant less oil—and less fragrance. Water was more valuable than gold out here, but too much could be just as much a threat as too little. Each day was a careful balancing act between too much and too little. She was dependent on the grudging rainfall; when it rained, everything came alive, and her dreams survived one more day.
“The farm have its own water?” Jack was a dark, brooding presence beside her. His muscled thigh pressed against hers. She scooted away, but that leg followed. He took up all the space. All the air.
“Some,” she acknowledged. The jump team sprawled around them, some laid out on the ground, others parked in white plastic lawn chairs. They'd spent the whole day cutting line. Fighting back the fires threatening Strong.
Yeah, they really did want to talk about the weather. “Lavender Creek has its own well,” she explained, “but not enough for much more than drinking and bathing.”
“No creek?” Rio teased, laughing when she shook her head.
“That namesake is a trickle now. You couldn't get much more than your feet wet. All the irrigation water is pumped in.” Lavender Creek wasn't in the difficult, dry situation of Central Valley farmers, who had to pump their water out of the reservoirs and canals crisscrossing the state's sun-baked middle. All those cars zipping past on the freeway saw only orchards and fields. Green and brown. Not the daily life-and-death struggle to get the water where it needed to go.
“You think we've got rain in our future?”
Rio answered, shaking his head. “Not from the forecasts I've seen. Maybe we'll catch an unexpected break, but the next couple of weeks are looking to be hot and dry.”
“Damn,” she said feelingly. “That's not going to make things any easier.”
“No,” Jack said quietly. “We're going to have sleeper fires.”
There wasn't much to say to that kind of conversation stopper, so she hunkered down and paid quality attention to her lunch. The next twenty minutes provided a companionable silence as the jump team settled down to the serious business of eating, the rustle of paper and the pop of plastic lids replacing conversation. Nonna hadn't stopped at ham sandwiches. No, she'd added fried chicken. Coleslaw. Biscuits. Clearly she hadn't gotten the latest message from the Surgeon General about restricting fat intake.
“You don't do anything without your brothers,” she said, when the picnic table finally cleared out some and most of the team had wandered away in pursuit of showers and rest.
 
Jack heard the note of accusation in Lily's voice when she mentioned his brothers. She wasn't the first woman to complain about Rio and Evan's constant presence, but he'd tell her what he'd told the others.
That he was a package deal.
He cut her a slice of the peach pie she'd been craving, because Nonna made the best pie this side of Sacramento, and he waited until she'd dug her fork in before he answered her unspoken question.
“We're family.” It was that simple, but she wanted the words, so he tried to find a handful of sentences that explained a relationship he didn't completely understand but valued more than anything. “Before we came up here to Strong, before Nonna adopted us, I was pretty much on my own.” He told her about life on the streets of San Francisco. He left out the uglier parts, but he knew she'd fill in those gaps. She'd lived in the city herself, and, even though she'd seen it through different eyes, she'd know precisely how rough things could get for a boy on his own. Instead, he told her about the beach where he and Rio and Evan first met and about the sight of the Pacific Ocean battering the San Francisco coastline.
That ocean had been all wild power. Damp, too, but he'd been young enough not to mind. Young enough to love the way the salt spray whipped off the waves beating against the shore and delivered a load of wet on top of his sleeping bag. They'd lived off hot dogs coaxed or earned from the vendors at the nearby zoo, slipping down onto the sand after dark, once the police had made the first of their nightly sweeps.
He'd been big enough to be mistaken for an adult, so to the authorities he was just another homeless guy looking for a place to lay his head. It hadn't been entirely legal to use the beach as his own personal hotel, but those same cops had had more to worry about than a couple of harmless sleepers. As long he'd kept his nose clean and minded his own business, it'd been all good. And he'd had himself an ocean view and a bit of peace and quiet.
“None of you had any family?” She asked the question lightly, but he knew that absence worried her.
“Evan didn't.” He cut her another piece of pie because the first was gone and he'd never forgotten her sweet tooth. “Rio, on the other hand, he needed to put some space between himself and a father who used him as a punching bag. It was easier to just go down to the beach and cop a spot there. No one bothered us. There was plenty of space for everyone.”
No one, on the beach or off it, asked too many questions. The three of them had had each other's backs, and together they'd made their own family. Hell, they'd even picked their own last name. The original Donovan had been a local guy who ran construction and gave them odd jobs. Donovan and Sons—that's what they'd called themselves.
It had been Rio's idea that they needed to get themselves an education. Never mind that getting that education meant going right back into a system they all hated.
“We'll stick together,” Rio had argued, “and it's just for a few years.” When foster care tried to split them up, they'd run away; after the third time, the adults in charge had accepted the truth. No one split up the Donovan brothers.
Strong wasn't the ocean. It sure as hell wasn't the beach. Parts of it, though, were just as wild and unfettered as all that water had been. If a man paid attention to a handful of unwritten laws, well, everything else was negotiable. And some things he had every intention of
taking
.
“I'll see you tonight, baby,” he growled, brushing a thumb over her lips. “You count on that.”
She stepped backward, sliding away from his touch. The look on her face was no invitation. “You've got a bed here at base camp with your brothers. Sounds to me like you want to be staying in it tonight.”
She headed back to her car as if they'd settled matters between them.
He'd straighten out that little misapprehension of hers later tonight, all right.
 
One way or another, this particular wildland fire season could burn up their town. Strong couldn't take another economic hit. Nonna knew that. Over time, entire families had packed up and moved away, chasing jobs. Chasing dreams that required a bigger stage than Strong had to offer. She'd recognized years ago when she'd decided she was going to rebuild her town, put it back on the map, that the job wouldn't be easy.
“How bad was it?” She turned her head and looked over at Ben. Neither of them was young anymore. Those added years, she figured, meant she had a little more experience to throw at the problem, but time didn't make it any easier to get the work done. Now she was like an old cat who wanted nothing more than to curl up where the summer sun spilled through the window. Not because she had to, but because she'd learned the value of slowing down. Taking the time to soak in those heated, sleepy moments, because those were firefly moments—here today, gone tomorrow. Someday soon, she promised herself. Just as soon as Strong—and her boys—were good and settled.
Ben stretched his legs out in front of him, his boot heels hitting her porch with a familiar thud. “Couple of brush fires,” he acknowledged. “Nothing we couldn't handle, but those fires burned faster and longer than they should have. Trees weren't cut back from that ridge up behind Haverley's place, and the flames got up into the deadwood there. Burned real hot for a while.”
She closed her eyes, the map of town as clear as day in her mind's eye. Jack had offered to take her up in that plane of his, fly her over the town, but she didn't need wings to see the place—it was all mapped out in her head. “That ridge borders Lily's lavender farm.”
“Fire didn't jump,” Ben offered.
“But it could have.” Nonna set her glass down. “If there'd been wind, Ben, we'd all have been in trouble. That fire just needed a little more fuel, and it would have been knocking on Lily's front door.”
“And that's why we called Jack,” he reminded her. “To stop that from happening.”
Making a decision, Ben reached over and took Nonna's hand in his. Real casual-like. Could have been just two old friends reaching out to each other for a little comfort.
Could have been.
Life, he thought, was too damned full of
could have beens
.
Chapter Seventeen
L
ily stared at the man standing in her doorway and knew she shouldn't have been surprised. Jack Donovan had never backed down from a challenge in his life, and her suggestion that he spend the night at base camp—rather than beneath her roof and in her bed—had been pure challenge. Now that he was here, she wasn't sure what she wanted. Looking at his familiar face, those broad shoulders filling up her doorway while a sensual grin tilted that wicked mouth of his, well, she recognized the now-familiar hum of desire low and warm in her belly. Some things didn't change, no matter what other feelings were piling up between them.
Just because she wanted him, however, didn't mean she had to lie down and let him tromp those boots of his all over her. Give him an inch, and that man would take a mile. “You shouldn't be here, Jack. I told you you should stay with your brothers tonight.”
She wasn't sure what was making her so prickly, but, placing her hand on his chest, she gave him a little shove.
He didn't move, just looked down at her. “I'm not leaving. Not unless that's truly what you want, Lilybell. You give me those words. You tell me to go.” When she didn't say anything, just stood there watching him, he came toward her, stepping inside, and she moved out of his way. He didn't misread that little feminine retreat as he grabbed a chair. He leaned back lazily, watching her with those sex-sleepy eyes of his. “Then, I'll go. Not until then. But you have to say the words, Lily.”
She couldn't say those words. Not to him. She hadn't been able to say them in high school—and she couldn't say them now. Frustrated, she banged the screen door shut and followed it up with the outside door for good measure. Her fingers hesitated over the lock. In or out. Once again, it was time to choose.
“You're sure this is where you want to be, Jack?” She had to ask.
“I came over here, Lily. No one forced my feet through those doors. Why the hell wouldn't this be where I want to be?” That sexy growl of his had her wanting to believe him.
“Word gets around.” Her back hit the door, and she realized she didn't really want to get away from Jack.
Hell.
More like she was locking him away for her very own. Pure fantasy, she knew, but sometimes dreams were a really good thing. “I know all about your high school girlfriends. Hell, I heard more than enough about the women you met in the service. This town isn't good at keeping secrets.”
His growl of irritation did things to her, made her body sit up and take notice. Irritated, Jack Donovan was magnificent. “Those women are my past, Lily. Only people here right now are you and me. I haven't asked you about your old boyfriends.”
Her sudden snort of laughter broke the tension. “You wouldn't have to. Five dollars says someone in Strong already filled you in.”
His reluctant smile told her she was right before he gave her the words. “Twice. First day I was here.”
He eyed the closed door, and she wondered for a moment if he'd turn around and leave.
Part of her knew that would be the wise thing, but that ache in her belly had her figuring out a way to hang on to him. “You don't like being shut up inside.” She took a step toward him. Nonna had made it plenty clear that he couldn't stand the sensation of walls closing in on him.
“Bad memories,” he growled, “and, yeah, I know I should get the hell past them.”
“It doesn't matter,” she said, meaning every word. So she took a deep breath. “We can go out onto the sunporch.” Could make love on the daybed there.
He stilled, not missing the promise in her voice. “You real sure, baby?” He was big and tough and more than a little rough around the edges—but she wanted him. Wanted him to stay as long as he would. If she was lucky, she'd have a summer with him. One long, lazy, heat-filled summer. Those memories would have to be enough.
“Stay with me, Jack.” She held out a hand, her feet already moving toward the sunporch.
“I'll stay,” he agreed. “But I'm thinking we need to have us a conversation about what you might—or might not—have heard about my past.”
“Not tonight.” Tonight she just wanted his hands on her. She wanted to explore all that sun-kissed skin of his. If they tried to figure out what Jack could commit to, they wouldn't make it to his bed or hers. She didn't want to pick that fight tonight. She didn't think he really did, either, but he hadn't budged. Just kept on watching her with those dark, knowing eyes of his. “You going to come over here and kiss me, Jack?”
Jack never backed down, not from a challenge like that. He and those brothers of his, they lived for a challenge, and, sure enough, he leaned forward.
“Just remember, you're not in charge here,” she said, purposely baiting him, knowing his hot button.
His slow, sensual smile should have warned her. “You think not, baby?” He was all alpha male as he came out of his chair and stalked across the floor toward her until he had one powerful arm braced over her head. “Because I'm pretty damn sure I am.”
Memories of that high school night all came flooding back, the young man and his truck. She hadn't been ready for him or his potent brand of sensuality then, and they'd both known it. He'd backed off because, she realized, Jack Donovan was honorable to the bone, even if he didn't advertise it.
“I won't push you,” he said quietly, “if you don't want me to. But I think you do, baby. I think you're not sure just what you want, other than pleasure.”
“And you are?” Obviously, he hadn't missed the feminine challenge in her voice. He leaned right into her, trapping her between the wall and that hard, lean body she'd explored last night.
God.
The memories. Part of her wanted to melt right into him, while the rest of her wanted to make him work for what he wanted. Work for her. Making love with Jack Donovan was impossibly good.
Making love.
Was that what she was doing? A flash of panic had her stiffening in his arms.
“Just a little game,” he whispered, mistaking her apprehension. “Just a little fun between you and me, baby. If you don't want to play, we'll stop right now.”
This wasn't love. It couldn't be. No,
this
was fire and heat, setting sensitive nerve endings aflame until she shifted restlessly. Wanting more.
Wanting Jack.
He didn't move, just reached out and drew the back of his hand down her cheek. Those hands made her shiver. Callused and strong, Jack's hands were impossibly gentle. Firm.
“You want to play this game, baby, you know what you need to do for me.” His head lowered. “You tell me what you want from me, let me know just how I'm going to be touching you tonight.”
Silently she shook her head.
“You will, baby,” he promised. Heat burned through her in a sensual reaction, and her skin was on fire, flushed and damp like the sensitive folds of her sex. She was wet for him, and she needed more. So much more. “I made you a promise last night, a promise I'm keeping now. I'm going to make you hungrier than you've ever been.”
“You can try,” she breathed.
“Is that another dare?” His mouth moved closer to hers, just a whisper away. God, she wanted him to shut up and kiss her.
“If you want it to be.” She loved his demands, loved that he wasn't going to let her hide from the sensations building between them. That he wouldn't hide, either. With Jack, what you saw was what you got.
And his harsh groan told her a lot.
This man holding her, her Jack, wanted her.
He lowered his mouth to hers, and that first meeting of their lips was almost innocent. His lips rested gently against her mouth, his eyes holding her gaze. Watching her. She closed her eyes, and sensation exploded through her. One of his hands slid around the back of her neck, cupping her, urging her closer. Those strong fingers coaxed the tense muscles of her neck to relax, while his other hand drifted down to her hips. Despite the gentle pressure bringing her closer to him, there was no missing the thick press of his erection.
Almost innocent.
Definitely wicked.
The next teasing brush of his lips was too gentle. Too light. With a little moan of frustration, she rose up on tiptoe to chase that teasing mouth of his.
Instead of giving her what she wanted, he pulled back, putting a whisper of space between them as he stripped off her tank top. “You want more, you have to tell me, baby.”
She arched up against him, desperate for more contact, the fiery brush of his skin against hers. “Don't you tease me, Jack.”
“What kind of a kiss do you want?” he asked relentlessly. “Harder? Softer? You want to open that sweet little mouth of yours so I can come right on in?”
“God, yes.” She couldn't contain the little shiver of pleasure. Even that small ripple of sensation was almost too much. “I want it all.”
“You don't want everything, Lilybell. You don't know the fantasies I've had.” The dark promise in his voice made her want to demand more. Demand everything from him. “You know what men think about up at base camp during fire season, baby?”
Mutely she shook her head as he rested his mouth next to her ear. She was going to come, just from his words and his kisses, and that wasn't the way she wanted this to end. She wanted all of Jack, not just the tease and the promise of him. So she tightened her arms around him, pulling his body against her in silent demand.
“We work hard, we play hard, Lily,” he whispered harshly. “We're out there, keeping your sweet little ass safe, so when we get ourselves back to base and we're hot and sweaty and bone-tired from it all, we fantasize about a little appreciation.” A finger stroked down the curve of her breast, pushed down her bra, circled the cherry-red tip. She felt the sweet, sharp tug all the way to her sex. “Like, maybe, when I came home, you'd take me deep into that luscious mouth of yours. You know what just the thought of all that wet heat surrounding me, sucking me in, does to me?”
He sucked her nipple into his mouth, giving her a taste of his fantasy. She threaded her fingers through his hair, melting, desperate. His tongue ruthlessly flayed the sensitive nerve endings, drawing an erotic path around the little tip. God, she was going to come.
“Jack,” she whimpered.
“Not yet, Lily,” he warned, hearing her unspoken message. He led her to the porch daybed, then spread her out on it. “You don't come yet. Not until you've heard every one of the fantasies I've been tormented with, up at camp. Maybe,” he whispered, his husky growl sending goose bumps shivering across her skin, “I'll tell you just how lonely those camps get sometimes. Just us boys, baby, and no women to kiss or to cuddle. Any women there are off-limits, co-workers. Just one of the boys. It gets real lonely up there. Sets a man to thinking . . .”
He stared down at her, then pressed a hard kiss against her mouth. Those hands of his didn't stop their sensual exploration, sliding, stroking knowingly. Learning the soft curve of her waist, the gentle mound of her tummy. That soft brush of skin on skin could have been an innocent caress. That wicked touch wasn't. He was teasing her, and she was fighting a losing battle. Shifting restlessly against him, her legs slid apart, her hips moving against his. Welcoming him.
“You ever have a naughty dream, Lilybell? Ever wonder what it would be like to have a man kiss every inch of you?”
His thumb traced a little pattern over her hip bones. “Every inch, baby,” he growled.
She'd been waiting, wondering, for years. Those were midnight fantasies, dark and sexy and tantalizing. Now this man was claiming her.
“You tell me, baby,” he groaned, resting his mouth against hers, “and I'll give you what you want.”
She was on fire, her mind pleasure-hazed. Thinking past the heated pleasure weakening her, leaving her wet and aching and wanting, wasn't going to happen. She'd lost control of these sensations, and all she could do was hang on, let the pleasure and the man take her. Knowing she was driving him every bit as wild as he was driving her.
“Kiss me,” she begged, and he did. His kiss was hard and deep, demanding the response she couldn't hide from him as his mouth took hers. And yet she felt safer than she ever had. Wrapped in Jack's arms, surrounded by the primal heat of him, she felt safe. Cherished.
“I'm going to taste you. Every inch of you, Lily. Take these off.” That sexy growl and the tug of his fingers in the little bows decorating the sides of her panties had her dampening.
He drew her shorts and panties down her legs. The erotic tug of the damp cotton against her sensitized skin sent bright sparks of pleasure shooting through her. She was so close to something, some bright, hot pleasure she hadn't known was possible. His dark eyes watched her, dipping down to where she was wet and slick for him. She felt powerful, feminine, as his breath caught hoarsely. He watched her as if she was the center of his universe.
BOOK: Burning Up
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