oldest brother—leapt from the passenger seat of the ladder truck, just as Steve, his junior by five years, jumped from the driver’s side. Drivers and other firemen scrambled out of the other trucks, all jogging in the wake of their captain. Looking away from the whole, humiliating scene, Skyler absently wondered when the police—and her third brother—would arrive.
Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten lunch. Fluffy butted her head against her arm, purring like crazy. She was probably hungry by now, too. Skyler rubbed the ornery feline between her ears. “You know, you could have decided to be friends twenty minutes ago, then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
The cat crawled into her lap, flexing her claws as she found a comfortable position.
“Ouch!” Skyler flinched and grabbed an overhead branch to steady herself.
The crowd gasped. The goofy lady squealed. The kids chanted. “Jump! Jump! Jump!…”
“Skyler?” a familiar voice shouted.
Skyler waved her hand in Ben’s general direction. “Here.”
“You’re not planning to jump, are you?”
“Not today.”
“Can you climb down?”
“If you really think I should.”
“Skyler…” Ben said in his best don’t-mess-with-me warning tone—the one he used whenever he was forced to bail her out of some scrape her impulsiveness had driven her to.
“Coming.” Skyler planted her feet on a lower branch, using one hand to balance against the tree, while holding Fluffy beneath her other arm. Scooting on her bottom, she managed to move down one branch, but Fluffy panicked at the movement and dug her claws into Skyler’s arm. They both teetered. Fluffy hissed, swiped her claw down Skyler’s arm, then scrambled onto another branch. Her arm stinging like hell, Skyler swung one leg over the branch she was sitting on, clutching the rough bark between her thighs. Her stomach pitched and sweat trickled down her back. “Okay. That wasn’t fun.”
“Jump, Jump, Jump!…”
“Shut up already!” she yelled down, past frustration and embarrassment. She examined the inside of her arm, where a thin line of blood had appeared. Glaring up at the cat, she again began her descent. “You’re on your own.”
Before she could get more than a few feet down, though, she heard the familiar sound of a hydraulic lift. The ladder. Again, she leaned her forehead against the tree’s rough bark. “Why me?”
The cat hissed.
“You said it, Fluffy.”
“Name’s Jack, chère, not Fluffy. You wanna give me your hand?”
Skyler jerked her head around at the unfamiliar, deep, sensuous voice—and promptly bopped her head against the thick branch next to her. Wincing and rubbing her forehead, she looked down at the man who’d spoken.
She found herself staring into a pair of warm, whiskey-brown eyes, the exact shade of the Jim Beam her father used to drink. Along with those incredible eyes went jet-black hair, an arresting, sculpted and tanned face, broad shoulders, muscular arms, then…
Leaning over to get her fill of her gorgeous savior, she nearly lost her balance.
Quick as lightening, he grabbed her wrist.
Her pulse drummed against his hand. The warmth of his skin seeped into her veins, and she found her whole body heating to his touch.
“Hold tight, chère,” he said. “I’m tryin’ to impress my captain.”
Skyler blinked. Of course. The new firefighter/paramedic Ben had mentioned last week at Sunday dinner. Grew up in a small, southern Louisiana town. Met him at a convention. He wants to move up. A real go-getter.
Another hero.
Who at the moment was going to save her butt, so she had no business quibbling with him over the dangers of his job.
Still grasping her wrist, he gently tugged her arm. “Come on. I’ve got you now.”
She smiled. That sounded pretty nice. As she climbed onto the ladder it wobbled. She thrust her arms around the fireman’s neck, and the heat of his body infused hers. His sculpted face was inches from her own. He smelled pleasantly of sweat, pine and musk, as if he’d applied aftershave that morning, and the scent had melded with his duties during the day. The muscles along his shoulders tickled her fingertips, and for the first time in a great while she found herself tempted by male flesh. Tempted beyond her brothers’ tendency toward overprotection. Tempted beyond her staid reputation.
Smiling, he held her waist snugly as his bold gaze slid down her body. “This is my kind of rescue.”
Skyler’s heart fluttered. It had been a long time since a man had looked at her so brashly—and survived her brothers’ fury to tell the tale. Curious herself, she let her gaze rove him as slowly as he had her. He wasn’t model beautiful, she decided…he was better. Rugged. Strong. And big. His tanned, muscular arms and broad chest were covered by a white shirt with the Baxter Fire Department logo stitched over his left breast pocket. His black uniform pants glided over his lean hips and thighs as if they’d been custom-made…and she certainly wouldn’t have minded being the tailor.
My, my, my. There was just so darn much of him to absorb. All that agility, muscle…and man. She dropped her gaze to note he was standing one rung below her, but he still towered over her by several inches. But then, she was a mere five-two, whereas—she observed shamelessly—he was maybe six-four. It was hard to tell with their entwined proximity. Maybe this weird rumbling in her stomach was her weakness for large men.
Then, she remembered. Rescue. The cat.
She pointed toward the pesky feline, still perched several feet above her and looking for all the world like someone had interrupted her late afternoon adventure—and was none too pleased about the censorship. “Don’t forget Fluffy.”
He glanced over her shoulder briefly, then said, “How ’bout I handle you, then I’ll deal with the cat.”
Okay by me. She gave Fluffy one last you’re-on-your-own glare as the fireman started down the ladder and the crowd began to cheer. When they reached the safety of the ground, and her feet rested on the summer green grass, she gazed up at him.
Way up at him. Whoa, baby.
He grasped her shoulder, as if to steady her. “Are you okay?”
Light-headed, she nodded slowly. His smile appeared—bright, charming, confident, maybe a bit reckless, and her throat tightened. As the park began to spin before her eyes, she finally recognized the odd sensation trickling through her body.
Why me? was her last thought as she fainted dead away.
AS JACK TESSON scooped the unconscious woman into his arms, he raised his eyes heavenward, deciding some saint up there had finally cut him some slack. Maybe all those years at the hands of the St. Michael’s Parochial School nuns had finally paid off. No doubt Sister Katherine, who’d thrown him out at least twice a year, and his grandparents, who’d punished
