Heat of the Moment (3 page)

“It's not a problem.”

“Thanks, you're a godsend.”

“I'll be there as soon as I can.” Erin ended the call and scrambled to finish the packing job from hell. She'd already emptied her refrigerator since she'd planned to go to Kendall's for dinner tomorrow night—something she'd have to remember to cancel. Forty-five minutes and six trips to her car later, she headed off to her new job. Maybe this way was better—she'd hardly had time to obsess about sharing a house with Cameron O'Leary for the next month.

***

Cam tossed his bag full of gear into his car and repeated the hands-off lecture he'd given himself ad nauseam since he'd first laid eyes on Erin Crosby. Unfortunately, the sound of her voice over the phone was all it took to forget the constant lectures. He'd bitten his tongue almost in half while he waited to hear if she was on a date. Hearing that a woman who looked like Erin was sitting home alone on a Saturday night made him wonder about the collective intelligence of the male population of Boston.

He let out an exasperated breath and, for possibly the fiftieth time in the last twenty-four hours, considered calling one of his friends with benefits to allay his newfound sexual frustration. He hadn't spoken to either of them in two years. For all he knew, they could be married by now. Still, he would have tried if he'd thought it would solve his not-so-little problem, but only one woman sparked his sexual frustration. The one woman whose dating habits should hold no interest, the same woman he should never picture naked, the only woman who was completely hands-off, and the one who just pulled up in front of his house.

He slammed the tailgate of his rig and walked in front of her car, the headlights hitting his knees. He opened her door for her, the interior lights went on, and she let out a startled scream right before he was hit in the solar plexus with what felt like a few bags of bricks. “Erin, it's me, Cam.” Shit, he'd gone and scared her.

She looked up at him; her big eyes the size of stop signs. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“No. I'm sorry. I thought you saw me when I came around the car.”

“I was grabbing my things, not searching for attackers.” She slumped back into her seat and held a hand to her throat as if she were waiting for her heart to start beating again.

He couldn't do anything right. First he dragged her out of her house at ten o'clock at night and then he scared the crap out of her. He crouched in front of her. “I'm really sorry I spooked you. Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. I just wasn't expecting”—she shoved a hand toward him as if he had startled the words right out of her—“you.”

He didn't know what to say to that. Maybe a hasty retreat was the better part of valor. “If you pop your trunk, I'll bring your bags into the house.”

“It's open, but you don't have to—”

He did his best to ignore the way her face paled and then reddened as if he'd embarrassed her. Before she could even get the words out, he was around her car and digging in her trunk.

By the time she gathered her things and slammed the door, he had all her luggage.

“I'll get the rest later.”

He held a suitcase under each arm and another in each hand. “I think I have everything unless you have more in the backseat.”

“How?” She walked toward him and stared. “That's all of it, but it took me six trips to load the car.”

He shrugged and waited for her to precede him. “The door's open.”

“Oh, okay.” She shot out in front of him with her long-legged stride as if she were afraid she'd slow him down.

He kicked himself mentally for being a fool but still couldn't stop himself from staring at the way her jeans hugged the curve of her ass. Damn, he almost missed that ugly sweater she'd worn the last time he'd seen her. At least it camouflaged her backside—not that it had kept him from imagining what it looked like, he just wished the reality wasn't as good as the one he'd imagined.

Erin stepped inside and dumped the bags she carried on the floor beside the door. “Just drop them. I'll take it from here.”

“No, I'll run them up.” He took the steps two at a time. “I need to wake Janie and introduce you before I leave. I don't want her to wake up and find a stranger here.”

“But I'm not a stranger,” she padded along behind him.

“You are to Janie.”

“No, I'm not. Kendall and I had lunch with Janie yesterday. I ended up spending a few hours with her after Kendall went back to work.”

Cam stopped in the hall and turned. “You did?”

She pulled the sleeves of her raggedy gray sweatshirt down over her hands and rubbed a cuff with her thumb. “I wanted to get to know her and, well, she seemed a little lonely. I didn't mean to overstep.”

“You didn't.” Her eyes shone in the light of the overhead fixture and her face pinked up again. Why would being nice to a child embarrass her? “Did you give her that hat she loves so much?” Her blush deepened and he wondered whether he'd feel the heat if he reached out and touched her cheek. It was a good thing he had his hands full.

“Yes, it's a little big for her, but it was her favorite. I thought I'd knit another in the same yarn that fits her better.”

“She wore it all day—even to bed. Just in case she wakes up before I get home, it's on one of her stuffed bears. I didn't want her to ruin it, so I waited until she fell asleep to take it off.”

She smiled at that and her grin was so potent, it took him a moment before his mind began to function again.

Luckily, he was smart enough to turn toward what would be her bedroom, for the next month at least, before she caught him trying to reboot his brain. He did his best to keep some distance between them, but she must have double-timed it to catch up to him. “There's food in the fridge for breakfast. I had planned to go grocery shopping tomorrow—I don't know what you like to eat.”

“I can cook just about anything. Whatever you and Janie like will be fine. I'm not picky.”

He set the luggage beside the bed. “The sheets are clean. I put towels in the bathroom, and if you need more, the linen closet's right outside the door.”

“I'll be fine.” Her gaze flicked from him to the bed and back again.

He knew he should leave but his feet felt as if they were nailed to the hardwood floor. Being in a bedroom with Erin was probably a very bad idea, but for the life of him he couldn't remember why.

“Don't you have somewhere you need to be?”

Right. “Yes.” His feet moved him toward the door. Thank God. “You have my cell number, but if I don't answer, you can always call the station and they'll radio me.”

She followed. “Janie and I will be fine.”

“Come on down and I'll show you where everything is in the kitchen.”

She stopped at the top of the stairs. “Don't worry. I'll figure it out. If I can't find something, I'm sure Janie will help me. You're busy.”

“I'll try to be home before Janie wakes up—”

“If you're not, I'll explain that you had a call. Go.”

This whole thing felt off . . . as if he shouldn't be leaving Janie. Aw hell, he felt as if he shouldn't be leaving Erin alone here either, which made absolutely no sense. He hit the door and turned. “You'll be okay here then?”

“Yes.” She came down a few steps, stopped, and tilted her head—he wasn't sure if it was in question or if she was trying to figure out if he was nuts. “Wasn't that the reason you hired me?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. He was being an idiot. “Yes. You're right. Okay, I'm leaving. Have a good night—what's left of it. Janie was wiped out after dinner so she should sleep in. I think my dad and brothers wore her out.”

“Brothers?” She continued down and sat on a step when she was about eye-level with him and speared him with those eyes—eyes that seemed to glow. “There are more of you?”

“O'Learys? Yeah.” He couldn't tell if she was excited about the prospect or horrified. He should never have mentioned them. But if he hadn't, Janie eventually would—his girl was a real chatterbox and she loved her uncles. “I have two brothers, Adam and Butch. They're both firefighters.”

“The three of you work together?”

Cam grabbed his jacket and shrugged it on. “Not now. We used to, but then I moved Janie down here from Portsmouth. Adam and Butch still work together depending on their schedules.”

“That must be hard on your parents.”

“My father was a firefighter too, so he's used to it. My mother died when we were kids but I can't remember her having a problem with my dad being on the job—but then again, I was pretty young when she died.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Thanks, it was a long, long time ago. In any case, we're fourth-generation firefighters. It runs in the family.”

“And you're all single?”

“Yup, even my old man—although it sounds like his on-again/off-again relationship is on again. Lolly made the corned beef and cabbage and soda bread that's in the fridge. She's a great cook if you're hungry. I think there's at least a little left over.”

“I'm fine.” She stood. “You go. And please don't worry about Janie. I can handle just about anything.”

He gave her one more close look to make sure she felt comfortable and realized he could probably stare at her all night. The light from overhead highlighted the different colors in her hair—strands of red glowed like a hot fire, the gold gleamed, and the darker hints of brown kind of shimmered. “Okay, lock the dead bolt behind me. I have my keys.”

Cam stepped into the cool night air and took a deep breath, knowing he'd spend the rest of the night fighting smoke. He usually loved going out on a call, but tonight was different. He told himself it was because Janie had just come home. That was probably it. But then again, it wasn't every day he said good-bye to a beautiful woman before leaving for work. It wasn't every day he met a woman he'd rather spend time with than search out the cause of a fire. And it wasn't every day he got a call and didn't hit the front porch on a run.

He expelled the breath he'd taken and tried to shake off the premonition crawling up his spine like a spider up a web. He couldn't shake off the feeling that danger was just waiting to strike, and that her name was Erin Crosby.

But damned if he didn't look forward to it.

It took Erin less time to unpack than it did to pack—amazing, considering she had to fold all the clothes she'd just stuffed into a bag. She still had to put away the pile she'd dumped unceremoniously by the door, but decided she'd deal with that in the morning.

She'd been so rattled when Cam showed her around the house the day before, she couldn't remember if there was a place where she and Janie could work. If there was, she'd probably just keep her school and knitting supplies there.

With that settled, she gave herself the rest of the night off. It was half past eleven, so she stripped out of her clothes, using her empty duffel bag to hold dirty laundry.

Since she always had a difficult time sleeping in a new environment, she decided that maybe a nice hot shower would relax her. Lord knew, she'd been so keyed up since meeting Cam that she hadn't slept well the night before. She wasn't sure if it was due to nerves or excitement. She told herself it was excitement, but couldn't quite make herself believe it.

Erin was a master of avoidance, so she grabbed her toiletries and took them into the bathroom. The bathroom, like the closet and dresser drawers, was empty. She'd half expected Janie's nanny would have left at least part of her wardrobe, but there was no sign of her. Had she completely moved out or had Cam packed her things? Talk about awkward.

Erin couldn't help but wonder how long Mrs. Truman had been gone, if she'd visited Janie in the hospital, and whether or not Janie missed her. She made a mental note to ask Cam about it the next time she saw him. The last thing she wanted to do was say the wrong thing.

Erin put her toiletries away and debated whether to take a shower or try out the Jacuzzi tub. The tub won out. She set the water to scalding, tied her hair in a knot at the top of her head, and tossed bubbles into the stream of water. She wasn't sure how to use the Jacuzzi and was afraid to even try, but she didn't need jets of hot water massage to relax; her lavender bubble bath always did the trick.

Two hours later Erin lay in her bed wide-eyed with her heart racing, and cursed her overactive imagination. She could swear she'd heard a car door slam. Maybe Cam was home early, but the way he'd talked made it sound as if he'd be lucky if he got home before breakfast.

She climbed out of bed and looked out the window. The driveway was empty and the only car in front of the house was hers.

Sliding back between the nice warm sheets, Erin gave her new pillow a punch, wishing she'd remembered to bring her own, and closed her eyes. When she heard a door rattle, her eyes shot open again. Okay, maybe it wasn't a door. It could have been the wind. Was it her imagination? Probably, but unless she checked it out, she'd never get to sleep.

She tossed the covers aside and got out of bed, cursing her choice of nightwear—a pair of baggy boxers, tank top, and slouchy socks were definitely not attractive or even decent. She hoped to God it was just the wind, but if it was Cam or a burglar, in this getup she'd probably scare him away. She wished she had a robe with her, but in her haste she'd forgotten to pack it.

Her pulse pounded out the theme to
Jaws
as she crept down the stairs. The doorknob turned—not her imagination. When she heard the weight of a shoulder straining against the locked dead bolt followed by a muffled curse, she grabbed the knitting needles out of the bag beside the door for protection—as measly as it was—and ducked behind the wall to hide. The last thing she needed was to scare the crap out of Cam her first night on the job. She listened for the scratch of a key against a lock, and the door swung open on its hinges, followed by a step and then a crash.

Whoever it was fell backward over the pile of knitting and research.

She peeked around the corner to see a very large pair of black men's boots, and legs encased in black jeans. Cam's jeans were blue.

“Cam, it's Butch.” The man groaned and rubbed the back of his head. “God, are you trying to kill me?”

Butch? Cam's brother's name was Butch, right? Yes, Butch and Adam—she remembered thinking they could be alphabetized. Adam, Butch, and Cameron. Lovely. She released a shaky breath. At least she wouldn't need to use her needles—yet.

Butch rolled over, pushed her things out of the way, and came to his feet, swaying slightly. “I caught a cab since I'm in no condition to drive.” His words were slurred.

Erin stayed behind the wall. There was no way in hell she was going to introduce herself to a perfect stranger in her pajamas. Not in this lifetime.

Butch was almost as tall as Cam, with the same crop of dark hair, the same broad shoulders that tapered to the same thin waist just above a matching tight ass. She'd only checked out Cam's ass in a purely asexual way. What could she say? She was a nurse and the male anatomy fascinated her.

When Butch turned and she saw his profile, her breath caught. Butch could be Cam's double. Cam was a little bulkier in the muscle department, but other than that, the two looked almost identical.

Butch pushed her backpack out of his way and trudged up the stairs, grumbling about being cock-blocked and the very ill-timed appearance of an ex-boyfriend or ex-husband, and then something about how he hoped the man he'd coldcocked was, in fact, an ex.

She re-locked the front door and watched his progress to make sure he didn't disturb Janie.

Butch turned down the hall toward the only room on that side of the stairs—hers. She waited for him to stumble back out in search of Cam, but he didn't. Less than a minute later she heard the not-so-soft snore of an inebriated man. It sounded like the snort of a prizewinning steer with a deviated septum through a bullhorn. She crept up the stairs and peeked into her room. The curtains were still open to the street, letting in the faint light from the half moon and illuminating his sleeping form—black leather jacket, boots and all—in her bed.

Great. Now what was she going to do?

***

Cam unlocked the front door just as the sun began to rise. It had been a textbook electrical fire in a two-hundred-year-old building. Since the business it destroyed was, like so many others, having financial difficulties, they'd called him in.

He would have been home hours ago had the fire not burned so hot that he'd had to wait for what seemed an eon to get in there to tell them what he and every other firefighter worth their salt knew. Old wiring, damage from a now-fried squirrel, and old wood equaled disaster. The fire had spread through the walls until nothing could be done to save the structure.

He took off his jacket and his shirt and tossed them and his work boots in the laundry room. He needed a shower and his bed. He might be able to get a couple hours of shut-eye before Janie got up.

He heard the snoring before he'd taken the first step and laughed to himself. Erin sounded like a four-hundred-pound trucker sleeping off a bender. Her door was open, but with that racket, if he wanted to get any sleep, he'd have to close it. He couldn't help himself; he looked in. “Fuck.” There, lying spread-eagle on Erin's bed, was none other than his brother Butch. “Well, shit.”

Where in the hell was Erin? God, he hoped she hadn't hightailed it home after meeting Butch. But no, he'd seen her car parked at the curb. He was tempted to grab the spare pillow and smother his youngest brother with it, but first he had to find Erin and divine the multitude of things Butch probably said or did for which he'd have to apologize. He'd never been big on apologies, but this was at least partially his fault. He should have told the guys Erin would be moving in—he just didn't want them buzzing around like horseflies over fresh meat. What had made him think that giving them keys to his house was a good idea?

He stuck his head into Janie's room; she was sleeping soundly, so he quietly closed the door to keep Butch's snores from waking her. He'd hoped to find Erin on the trundle bed in Janie's room. No such luck. Maybe she was downstairs on the sofa and he'd missed her.

He pushed the door to his room open and almost choked on his tongue staring at the sight before him.

Erin lay asleep on his bed, all bare legs and long arms looking like a living, breathing fantasy. Her hair hid her face and fanned over his pillowcase, just as he'd imagined it would. She slept on her side, a pillow hugged to her chest, and one leg pulled up showing him the edge of a cheek peeking out of what looked like a huge pair of boxers. He must have groaned because she rolled over, brushed the hair out of her eyes, and blinked up at him. “Cam?”

“Yeah, it's me. Sorry. I didn't know you were in here.” Looking like a fuckin' goddess. He knew he should step back, give her some privacy, except his feet weren't listening to the signals from his brain. Not that he wanted to leave. He'd be more than happy to strip down and join her.

She sat up. God, she was perfect—sleepy eyed and flushed, with the indentation of a pillowcase crease on her cheek. She looked like she was born to occupy his bed.

“I'm sorry to sound like one of the three bears, but someone is sleeping in my bed. I think it's your brother. Butch, is it?” Her voice was low and rough and reminded him of sleepy sex and pillow talk.

“Yeah, I don't know whether to kill him or thank him.” Damn, he didn't mean to say that out loud.

“I didn't think you'd be home so soon. I was going to crash on the couch, but I didn't want to be so far away from Janie in case she woke up. I'll just grab a blanket and go down.” She'd pulled the pillow in front of her for modesty's sake. Unfortunately it accomplished just the opposite. With the big pillow covering her clothes, she looked naked, which only encouraged the action going on in his pants. Good thing they were loose.

“No, go back to sleep. Let me just get a change of clothes. I'll take the couch. I'm really sorry about Butch. I'll kill him later.”

“Don't worry about it. He fell over my bags downstairs so he's probably pretty sore from that.” She let out a sexy laugh, rolled over, and curled around the pillow.

He'd never been jealous of a pillow before. He sure as hell was now. He grabbed his clothes and took one last look at her—her eyes were closed and she wore a smile. He turned and left, closing the door on the temptation and that niggling feeling working its way back up his spine.

***

Erin pulled the pillow to her chest, closed her eyes, and couldn't think of a better way to wake up than seeing Cameron O'Leary standing shirtless next to her bed, looking down at her. Reality put her imagination to shame. She'd never seen a man look like that without the aid of oil and airbrushing.

She breathed in the scent of him: a little smoky, a little soapy, and something that she couldn't quite put her finger on—something intrinsically him. She'd caught a whiff of it the first morning they'd met. It wasn't aftershave, or soap, or smoke, but something so tempting it made a woman want to get closer.

When she'd slid into Cam's bed last night, she'd known he must have just changed the sheets. They had that not-yet-slept-in feel. She didn't think there was anything better than sleeping between freshly laundered sheets. Since she couldn't stand having her feet covered, she'd kicked the hospital corners out and fell asleep almost instantly. Maybe it was the crash after the adrenaline rush that she'd had thanks to his wayward brother, but now she wondered if it wasn't being surrounded by the scent of Cam—calming and exciting at the same time. She wasn't about to analyze the dreams that came along with sleeping in his bed. Those would give Kendall enough ammunition to have her tied to a therapist's couch for a year.

So, okay, she was attracted to Cam. That didn't mean anything. She was a relatively normal twenty-six-year-old woman with needs that had long been denied. She'd spent the last two years working and going to school. Who had time to date? And really, it wasn't as if she needed a man in her life. She'd never had one before—not even a father. Sure she'd had boyfriends, but by the time the relationship hit the three-month mark, she was looking for the escape hatch. She had never met a man worth the trouble for anything long-term.

She had plans for her life, and her plans had no room for a man. She was going to finish her thesis, defend it to the best of her ability, and hopefully find a job that would enrich her life and the lives of those she worked with without stealing little pieces of her soul. She had a plan, and Cameron O'Leary—or any man, for that matter—had no part in it.

The bedroom door flew open and a small swirl of blue flew in. “Daddy, I can't find my hat.” Janie jumped on the bed and then sucked in a shocked breath. “Erin, what are you doing here?”

“Janie, good morning. Your father got called into work after you went to bed last night, so he asked me if I could start my job early. Then your uncle Butch came in and took my room, so I slept here. Your dad's home now, I think he's on the couch.”

“I can't find my hat. I had it on when I went to sleep—”

“Your dad put it on one of your teddy bears for safekeeping. He was afraid you'd lose it.”

Janie lay down on her stomach, kicking her feet up over the tutu that made up the skirt of her Elsa nightgown, swaying from side to side. “Do you want to eat breakfast with me?”

She'd like to go into her own room and get clothes and brush her teeth, but she had a feeling Butch wasn't going to be an early riser—at least not today. She could hardly go traipsing around the house in boxers and a tank top. “I'd like to, but your uncle is asleep in my room. I can't get to my clothes.”

“No problem.” Janie bounced off the bed, her tutu swirling as she spun around to the closet door. “Just take one of Daddy's shirts. It'll be like a bathrobe since he's so big.” She pulled a blue button-down off its hanger and tossed it onto the bed. “We'll match.” She pulled a face. “Sort of, but Daddy doesn't have an Elsa shirt.” Something Erin was sure Cam was happy about.