Can't Help Falling In Love. Wendy Etherington
JACK ACTUALLY PAUSED with a beer mug raised in the air, on its way to a customer’s hand. Skyler Kimball swept inside the bar with a quiet hush, but nearly every patron of the place turned to see the newcomer, as if they knew something innocent and pedigreed had invaded their midst.
“Hey, man, do I get the beer, or what?” his customer asked.
Disgusted with himself and the sudden swelling in his jeans, Jack set down the beer, sweeping away the money the customer offered, then stuffing it in the register without even counting the cash. What was she doing here?
From the corner of his eye, he watched her walk somewhat hesitantly toward the bar. Dressed in faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt, she looked sexy, approachable. The jeans hugged her slim thighs and narrow waist, and even under the dim bar lights her blond hair shone like sunlight.
Damn, he wanted her. How could she strip away his resolve to resist her so easily?
Ben wouldn’t fire you for just talking to his sister, whispered the seductive devil serving as his conscience.
Right. He could talk to her. His captain was a by-the-rules kind of guy, he rationalized, and technically only the city council could fire him. Just play it cool, he told himself.
He met her gaze. And the impact of those blue eyes staring into his caused a tremor of need to vibrate clear down to his toes.
He wasn’t cool any longer.
She approached him, angling her head and frowning. The two men in front of him jumped off their barstools, scooting them back with a loud scrape across the wooden floor, each holding out a hand for Skyler to take his seat.
Waving their gesture aside, she asked, “What are you doing here?” in such an accusing, frustrated tone, he had to smile. Could this attraction be a two-way street?
“Have a seat, chère. I had no idea you’d come collecting my drink offer so soon.”
“I’m not here to see you.”
Jealousy kicked him hard in the ribs, and he knew he’d been kidding himself about fighting their attraction. He’d taken plenty of risks before. Why should this one worry him?
She accepted one man’s offer of his stool with a brief thank-you, but continued staring at Jack suspiciously. “You never answered my question.”
Jack forced his gaze away from her glistening pink lips. “Huh?”
“Why are you here?”
“Helping Gus. You?”
“I’m—” She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “I come here all the time,” she said, turning back with a bright smile on her face.
“Uh-huh.” He responded to a couple of shouted orders for refills on drinks, trying to picture Skyler Kimball sidling up to the bar for a whiskey after work. The vision didn’t gel.
Looking nervous, she glanced over her shoulder again.
She was up to something. Something she didn’t want to tell him about. Of course he was a virtual stranger. Why would she tell him? Her business was none of his business.
He stood in front of her, leaning against the bar. Be cool, remember? “So, what’ll you have?”
She set her purse in front of her as her gaze danced down the bar. “A beer, I guess.”
“What kind?”
“Huh?”
I come here all the time. Right. He didn’t mention the slip, but said, “I’ve got Bud, Bud Light, Michelob, and Coors Light on tap. In bottles, there’s—”
She held up her hand. “Whatever you like.”
He drew a Michelob from the tap, placing the cold mug in front of her.
After a brief sip, she smiled. “This is better than the last one I had.”
Momentarily struck stupid by her smile, he didn’t comment. Her parents had named her right. She was an angel who belonged in a pure, cloudless sky. Not being gawked at by a swamp rat, respectable citizen wanna-be like him. But then, there were those non-respectable panties of hers…
He grabbed a towel from beneath the bar and wiped down the wood. When was the last time a woman had affected him so strongly, so quickly? Since…never.
“Are you moonlighting?” she asked after another sip of beer.
“Sort of,” he said, glad to be distracted from his thoughts. “I’m the restless type, I guess.”
“Aren’t you tired after working a twenty-four-hour shift at the firehouse?”
He shrugged. “Nah. We usually sleep uninterrupted through the night. There’s not a lotta action in Baxter.”
“Is that what you want—action?”
Something in her tone brought his head up from his cleaning task. Her eyes reflected an odd combination of wariness and curiosity. “Sure. I jumped at Ben’s offer to come here, ’cause I want to work in a big city station. With Atlanta so close, I figured this was the perfect opportunity. I sure wasn’t gettin’ anywhere at home.”
“In Louisiana?”
“Yeah. A tiny town just outside Lafayette. St. Francis makes Baxter look like a booming metropolis.” He leaned one hip against the bar, smiling as he pictured his grandparents’ white cottage on the banks of a tiny stream, brimming with crawfish in the spring and mosquitoes in the summer. “We didn’t even have a fire station. Me and another guy—who double-dutied as the undertaker and town coroner—covered fire and medical emergencies with volunteers and occasional help from the sheriff.”
She returned his smile. “Baxter used to be like that. My grandfather was the only paid firefighter back then. What about your family?”
“My grandparents still live in St. Francis.” He didn’t mention his parents. Explaining them could take hours. “They own a bar and restaurant.”
Waving her hand at the bar, she said, “That’s why you look so comfortable back there.”
He shook his head. Comfortable wasn’t even a remote possibility around Skyler. The urge to pull her into his arms swept through him. Would she tremble beneath his touch? Would her eyes turn smokey with need? Would she smack the crap out of him?
“Bartender!” a guy shouted from the other end of the bar before Jack could give into the temptation.
“Be right there,” he called back. After one last look into Skyler’s sensual blue eyes, he strode off to fill the order.
By the time he returned, the devil on his shoulder had convinced him he should ask her to dance. One dance. What harm could there be? He was good enough for one dance.
From pretending coolness to jumping into the fire. After over five years, he should be used to it.
Gus approached her at the same time Jack did. “Hello, lovely lady. I’ve never seen you in here before. Name’s Gus. This is my place.”
As Skyler shook Gus’s outstretched hand, a guilty flush colored her cheeks. Again, Jack wondered what had brought her to the bar.
“I’m Skyler Kimball,” she said.
“Kimball, huh?” Gus rubbed his chin, glancing from Skyler to Jack, then back. “Ah, that’s how you know Jack here, right? You must be those Kimball boys’ younger sister.”
Skyler winced. “That’s me. The little sister.”
Rocking back on his heels, Gus nodded. “Great guys. The one who’s a cop…”
“Wes,” Skyler supplied.
“He’s broken up quite a few brawls in here,” Gus continued.
Skyler