why she had stopped by the firehouse at all. She had never gone out of her way to speak to him those few times they’d previously met. So why had she driven across town to seek him out now?
He wanted to know that. But he couldn’t resist seeing just how much passion lurked beneath that beautiful surface. So he stepped closer to her as he said the rest, as if he meant the words for her, “You can’t even wait until I’m finished, you want to get laid so badly.”
His head snapped back as her hand connected—hard—with his face. His skin stung from the force of her slap. While she was petite, she packed a wallop. That wasn’t quite the way he’d wanted to test her passion. So he jerked her up against him and lowered his head.
FIONA LIFTED HER hand to slap him again. But he caught her wrist and jerked her more tightly against him. The heat and dampness of his sweat-slick bare chest penetrated her suit jacket and blouse, burning her skin.
Or was that just her anger?
She was flushed with it, trembling with it. And appalled by it. She had actually struck another human being. And if he hadn’t caught her wrist, she would have struck him again. A gasp of shock at her own behavior slipped through her lips.
His blue eyes widened as he stared down at her. His face was close to hers—so close that she’d been sure he was going to kiss her. But he abruptly released her and stepped back, so quickly that she swayed slightly on her heels before regaining her balance.
She trembled, probably from the force with which her heart pounded in her chest and her pulse raced. With anger. It could only be anger. She hadn’t actually wanted him to kiss her. He was beyond arrogant. He was obnoxious.
As if to prove it, he threw back his head and let out a loud laugh.
“I should have slapped you harder,” she remarked. He’d certainly deserved it.
Still laughing, he shook his head. “I wasn’t saying that to you.”
She gestured at the room, which was empty but for the two of them and all those weights and machines. “I’m the only one here.”
“But I didn’t know you were the one who’d walked in,” he said.
Her skin heated with embarrassment as she realized he spoke the truth. He’d been flat on his back on that bench, lifting the weight bar. He hadn’t even glanced up before he’d spoken. He must’ve just known someone had walked in because he’d heard her heels hitting the floor.
“You’re the last person I expected to show up here,” he continued.
So he had been expecting some other tense and edgy woman who couldn’t wait for him to finish before getting laid. Not that she was tense and edgy.
Well, she was—but with outrage, not desire. Her gaze kept slipping, though, down to his chest. To all those muscles, his skin glistening with sweat. A bead trickled from between his pecs and trailed over washboard abs to disappear into the waistband of his shorts.
Her throat suddenly very dry, she struggled to swallow. And to pull her gaze up—back to his face. But that wasn’t much better. His square jaw was dark with stubble, and his black hair, slick with moisture, clung to his muscled neck. Her fingers itched to touch his face again, but not to slap it. Then she met his eyes, saw the amusement there, and she reconsidered...slapping him.
“Why are you here, Fiona?” he asked, his mouth sliding into a slightly crooked, sexy-as-hell grin. Sounding almost hopeful, he added, “Are you feeling tense and edgy?”
She lifted her hand even though she had no intention of losing control enough to swing it. “Do you want me to slap you again?”
“Are you into that?” he asked and arched a black brow over one of those twinkling eyes. “I didn’t figure you for the S&M scene. Didn’t actually figure you for any scene. Didn’t think sex was your thing...”
She didn’t know what infuriated her more. That he’d thought about her and sex. Or that he’d thought about her not having sex. Ever.
She wasn’t frigid. Not at all...
At the moment—standing too close to his sweat-slick, musky-smelling body—she wished she was, though. Then she wouldn’t have noticed how muscular he was. Muscles bulged in his arms and chest and back. Did he spend all his time in the gym?
Or in some woman’s bed?
His gaze skimmed down her body to her high heels. “But now I can see the whole dominatrix thing.”
“I’m here because I’m mad,” she admitted. If only she could have controlled her temper long enough to realize that it was pointless to try to talk to a man like Wyatt Andrews. He was infuriating. “And you’re only making it worse.”
“We aren’t equipped to put out those kinds of fires here,” he remarked.
“Pointless,” she murmured as she spun on her heel to turn toward the door.
Long fingers wrapped around her arm, tightly enough that she jerked against his grasp as she tried to walk away.
“Wait, wait,” he said. “I can try to help. Why are you mad?”
“Because of you.”
He sighed. “I told you I didn’t realize you were the one who’d walked in—”
“No, I’m not mad about that.” Not anymore. Not now that she had calmed down enough to be rational. Of course he hadn’t known who’d walked in. Since she’d driven over here anyway, she might as well talk to him. She drew in a deep breath to brace herself and turned back around to face him. “I want to talk to you about my brother.”
His hand dropped from her arm and he stepped back. “Has he done something?”
“You know what he’s done,” she said. Since she was pretty sure it had been Wyatt’s idea, or at least his influence. “He’s dropped out of college in order to join the Forest Service Fire Department.”
“So why, exactly—” he spoke slowly, as if he were dealing with someone unstable “—are you mad at me?”
“Because he wants to become you.”
His mouth curved into that slightly crooked grin again. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
God, he was arrogant. But maybe he had a reason to be. He was sexy as hell—so sexy that women were apparently unable to wait to have sex with him.
“Pointless,” she murmured again. “I made a mistake coming here. I can’t reason with you.” She could barely reason with herself at the moment—his bare skin and rippling muscles were too distracting.
“I don’t know what you want to reason with me about,” he said, “but I’m willing to talk to you.”
Frustration gnawed at her. She had practiced her argument the entire drive across town. But
