Memories of Us (25 page)

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Peyton Michaels expected her assignment to be simple—write an article about everyday heroes. Heroes like Hot Shot firefighter Gabe Cooper. She never expected to find herself running up a mountain, a wildfire nipping at her heels, her life in his hands.

And she never expected to be drawn to Gabe. After the loss of her husband in the line of duty, the last thing she wants is to fall in love with yet another man who routinely puts his life at risk.

Gabe has had enough of women who want to make him into someone he’s not. Women like his ex, who couldn’t handle the heat of his job. Like Peyton, who sees him as a hero when he’s just a man doing a job. Except time after time, the pesky reporter proves her mettle. And gets deeper under his skin.

But there’s an arsonist at work, and danger is closing in with the speed of a raging brush fire. Peyton and Gabe have to dig deep for what it takes to be a real hero—to find the courage to reach out and grab a forever kind of love. Before it’s too late.

Warning: sexy.

Firefighters and locals alike stopped him at every table, congratulated him, offered him beer, quizzed him about his narrow escape. She liked the way he brushed off the adulation, as if his skill and know-how had no bearing on the outcome of the day. Since when could Gabe Cooper be humble? She never saw evidence of it when he dealt with her.

“Hey.” He reached the bar and edged closer to her than necessary. “Hanging in?”

The scent of smoke clung to him, probably was a part of his DNA after so many years on the fire line. She’d attributed the odor to the place, and now would always recognize the scent as Gabe. He was so close she couldn’t take a breath without smelling him. It didn’t stop her from breathing.

She tried to shift away for her own sanity, but the bar was too crowded to go far. “No. I left my will to stay upright on the mountain.”

His low, sexy laugh curled around every nerve in her body, coaxing them to the surface of her skin, where they shimmered with anticipation.

“Good thing we don’t have far to go.” He dangled a motel key from his fingers. So he’d gotten the last room. And he wanted to share. “The room’s right upstairs. Thought you might enjoy a long hot shower.”

For God’s sake, a thirty-two-year-old widow should be able to control her blush. Was she embarrassed because the bartender overheard, or because a gorgeous man handed her a line?

That was all it was, right? A fresh line? God, she couldn’t think with his thigh pressed against hers.

“One room?” she asked, and hated the shakiness of her voice.

“That’s all they got. Take it or leave it.”

“Do you come with it?”

He smiled into her eyes, amusement and arousal a breathtaking blend. “Is there a problem?”

“I don’t—”

Before she could answer, the bartender set an unordered bottle of beer in front of Gabe and he glanced up questioningly. The bartender pointed to a table of local men who waved when Gabe looked their way. He saluted them with his bottle and took a long drink. Peyton was so close to him she could feel him swallow.

“Dance?”

The twang of music had changed to something softer, slower, sexier. On the dance floor, couples shifted closer together. Her body hummed at the thought of being up against all that maleness. It had been so long.

Time to step into the fire.

The minute he folded his hand around hers, she could imagine the rough skin of his palms on her body. She wanted him to smooth away the goose bumps his touch raised.

What the hell was she doing? She knew where this would lead.

He eased them through the crowd to the dance floor and turned her to him with just a shift of his hand on hers. She faced him for a beat before putting her hand on his shoulder, willing it not to wander, and he put his hand on her waistband, under the hem of the sweatshirt, and slid a finger through an empty belt loop to anchor her. The possessiveness of the move sent a shiver of longing through her, and she struggled to mask it.

The pounding of her heart, the rhythm of his breathing drowned out the music. She wanted to look into his eyes, but was afraid what he would see in hers, so she lowered her gaze to the column of his throat, below her eye level. His thumb rested on the edge of her waistband, and if she bent to the right, just a little, his fingers hooked through her belt loop would be against her bare skin. Her entire consciousness focused on the imagined pleasure.

She bent, and his breath caught as he encountered flesh. The scrape of his finger over her sensitive skin sent heat spiraling downward, making her muscles weak. But she wasn’t ready to lean into him.

“What kind of name is Peyton, anyway?” His voice was a growl vibrating in his chest. She should have known better than to toy with an alpha.

She glanced up to see him watching her, his eyes crinkled in amusement, completely at odds with her thoughts. Damn, that was sexy. “A family name.”

“What, like a last name?”

His words brushed warm over her skin as he turned her to avoid another couple. “Mm, my mother’s.”

His eyes were still crinkled, but they’d twisted more toward shrewd than good-humored. He’d figured it out; they all did as soon as she explained. Only wealthy families had the audacity for that pretentiousness. Poor little rich girl.

What did she care what he thought? She wasn’t sticking around. She never did. And that made it easier when he released her hand to press his against the small of her back, brought her against his body, which made it easier to tilt her face up to see his descending. Made it easier to part her lips in anticipation as her nerves skittered from where he touched her to where she wanted him to touch her. So close, she could already feel his kiss.

She expected to feel guilty for wanting this man, but the guilt didn’t come. Maybe she’d been alone too long, maybe her connection with Gabe was stronger than she credited. Maybe her anger with Dan for dying had killed her love for him. Sleeping with Gabe Cooper wouldn’t be a betrayal of her husband, but it might be a betrayal of herself and all she wanted.

“What’s happening here?” she asked breathily.

A teasing smile curved his lips. “You know, the whole life-in-peril thing, adrenaline transfers to arousal. Danger is a big turn-on. You said so yourself.”

Her breath hitched and she tried very hard not to focus on his mouth, or how it felt against hers as he leaned closer.

She swallowed, hoping it would make her voice stronger. “They say danger, or escaping danger, is like a sexual rush. Is that why you do what you do?”

He brushed his cheek against hers, the stubble an erotic caress on her suddenly sensitive skin. Peyton struggled to keep her eyes open and her knees locked.

“I don’t have to almost die to get turned on.”

Jolene Benate has spent six years keeping a vow to herself to never again be that weak woman weeping at her young husband’s graveside. Now she’s a deputy marshal on the elite warrant squad, as physically and mentally tough as they come. But moving on isn’t as easy as it looks.

Especially when the husband she thought was dead suddenly reappears. And, even in the face of his betrayal, she still wants him.

Paul Benate’s gifted mind was groomed from a young age to serve the military and its top-secret projects. His one youthful act of rebellion was to marry Jolene, only to discover a terrorist could use her to force him to give up his classified secrets. For her own safety, he had to let her go.

But the safety he thought was assured by his “death” was only an illusion. Secrets have a way of surfacing, and once again Jolene is the perfect target. There’s only one thing left to do…reclaim the woman that he has always loved.

Even if she’s mad as hell at him.

Warning:
Hot and flammable. Sometimes they just don’t make it to the bedroom.

Six years ago she would have walked through fire just to hear his voice one more time.

“Yeah, well, thanks.” She shrugged into the coat and started walking.

“Where are you going?”

His demand broke through the shock attempting to numb her brain. But it wasn’t happening fast enough; she still felt too much. It was move or attack the cause of her problem. Halting her step, Jo turned to face the root of her pain.

“I. Don’t. Know!” Each word was slowly spat out with the venom that was winding its way along her spine. “I don’t know where I am and I don’t have a clue as to how long this fence is. But I just might have the answer to
that
question tonight.”

She stopped and turned so quickly that Paul had to pull himself up short or collide with her body. Standing this close, he could clearly see the flames that burned in her eyes. Eyes that held a place in his memory of the only woman he’d ever risked his work for. Her scent drifted on the wind and he pulled it into his lungs. Recognition flared in a forgotten corner of his brain, that place he’d shoved every memory of her into, bolting the door shut to avoid being yanked away from his work again.

Control was something he defined himself by. Jonnie destroyed it with one soft kiss. Ripping away every layer of protection he owned, leaving him exposed. There wasn’t a man alive he feared.

Jonnie terrified him.

But the woman in front of him fascinated him too. Curiosity was still the most deadly of sins because he couldn’t resist investigating the woman his child bride had transformed into. He also didn’t get surprised often and the rush of excitement was overpowering his better judgment. He wanted to know, needed to discover just who she’d become.

“Get lost. I don’t need your company.”

The tilt of her chin as well as the solid stance of her body declared her to be far more than the girl he’d taken to his bed years ago. This was a mature female. Capable and armed with the knowledge of her own strength. Admiration formed and spread up his back in response to her denial of his authority. His cock twitched with more than common lust. Need flared up from the coals of their marriage. It wasn’t nearly as dead as he’d convinced himself it had to be. Heat moved through his blood as his gaze swept her frame.

“Really, Paul, I don’t need your company. I’m quite used to doing without it.”

He didn’t look like he was in the mood to listen. Jo watched as one cheek flinched. His face was familiar yet the hard features were somehow oddly primitive now. Paul had never been so…hardened. Those black eyes sharpened into solid steel as he reached some sort of decision.

“You’ve grown up, Jonnie.”

He sounded surprised and impressed. Jolene felt her pride rear its head. “If I was too immature for you, why did you marry me? You couldn’t have been that hard up for sex.”

His lips curled back from his teeth in response. His gaze very precisely dropped down her body in a slow inspection that made her gasp. Oh God, her memories didn’t do justice to just how intensely sexual her husband could be. Somewhere along the way, the dreams of him had taken on a controlled feeling that was anything but true. He had always been in command of her, his body driving her past any control or ability to think. He’d possessed her. The hard edge radiated stronger from him now than she could recall it being in the past.

Heat filled her checks as she watched him stare at the mounds of her breasts. The things he could do with a woman’s breasts were amazing. But that little tingle of attraction beneath the jacket only made her madder. She’d been forced to forget because he’d discarded her. Hell, he hadn’t even left her hope they might reconcile.

“There wasn’t any other way to have you. You wouldn’t yield without that wedding, and I wanted you.” One corner of his cheek twitched as his gaze roamed over her body once again. Heat tingled all the way down her spine as she watched his gaze linger on her hips. Her memory was cruel because her clit softly throbbed as she recalled exactly how good it felt to be had by him. Dreams were nothing compared to the reality. Knowing that just made everything worse. It was the absolute in forbidden fruit. Within reach but deadly if she gave in to temptation. Just looking at him doubled her hunger.

“Absolutely perfect. You married me for sex. Wonderful, and here I’ve been thinking that we were in love. How silly of me.” Propping her hands on her hips, she shook her head, screaming at the surge of sexual impulses trying to flood her brain with hormones designed to defeat her. “You have one hell of a nerve, you know that? You got one thing right, my virginity was worth fifteen minutes in front of a priest.”

Hurt speared through her as she recognized the hard truth that you had to value someone before you cared if you deceived them or not.

But her body wasn’t listening to the anger coursing through her. He still drew her attention like freshly baked bread did a starving person. There was no logic to it, only the clamoring of every inch of her body for her protests to die a swift death in favor of letting her explore the gift of having her husband back in the flesh. She wanted to step through the mirror into her dream world and let him fold her into his embrace. She shuddered with the sheer abundance of emotion.

“You mean your
love
was worth that visit to the church. You were the only person who ever loved me. That was worth a wedding.”

Her love. As in one sided.

His gaze fused with hers, his mouth pressed into a hard line. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”