The Firefighter's Appeal. Elizabeth Otto
and tossed it to someone Lily couldn’t see. He turned back to her with a shake of his head. “Nah. I, uh...well, it’s probably a strike to my manhood to admit, but I have a thing about needles.”
She snickered despite herself. “You’re what? Six-two—”
“Six one and a half, thank you.” He took a swig from his beer around a chuckle. “I know, I know. Someone like me, scared of needles. It’s sacrilegious.” His voice was deep with a resonance that shivered through every nerve in her body. “Since we’re being truthful here, you should also know that I’m...” He looked around as if to see if anyone would overhear before locking his gaze on hers. “I’m also deathly afraid of spiders.”
She feigned horror. “No!”
He wagged his eyebrows, a move that was equally boyish and sexy, drawing yet another chuckle from her. Lily’s own brows came together with the realization that she was completely at ease. Sounds from the bar rushed in her ears—foreign and sudden, as if she’d blocked out the noise. Before she could ponder that, his fingers traced along her collarbone to the tie around her neck holding the coconut bra in place.
“As a native Hawaiian, it’s my sworn responsibility to tell you that I approve of your coconuts.” The pads of his fingers were rough, as if they’d known countless hours of manual labor and rowdy play. Lily’s skin heated under the gentle scrape of his touch along her neck, her knees threatening to give out altogether. Lily gripped the bar; Garrett’s hand sank beneath the shade of her hair, following the string to where the ends were tied. It would only take one quick pull—just one—and he’d have the strings free.
Her chest squeezed at the intimate, familiar way he touched her. She should have been indignant, not turned on and mesmerized by the hard and soft pressure of his fingers retreating along the path they’d come. Garrett’s hand fell away, but his gaze felt like a caress over her cheek. His voice was low, with a tinge of husky amusement. “So what flavors did you get?”
Her middle quivered as if she were about to perform improv in front of all these strangers. “Flavors?”
Garrett reached under the bar for a large plastic container. “The candy.” He produced a handful of packets, throwing them down on the bar. “Root beer. Orange dreamsicle. Berry.” He flipped one over. “Black licorice.” His smile fell at the same time she made a disgusted face.
She shuddered, a move that seemed to shake off most of the effect of his unexpected—if not welcome—touch. “Throw that away.” She laughed.
“Agreed.” Garrett tossed it in a trash can behind him. “So?” His eyes narrowed a bit, his head cocking slightly as if he was studying her. She reached between the faux grass of her skirt to the pocket of the khaki shorts she wore underneath and grabbed the packet.
“Oh, this? Orange dreamsicle.” Her brain started a little happy dance. It felt good to flirt with him, and, amazingly, her tongue-brain connection was working like a charm at the moment.
Garrett’s eyes tracked her movements. “Hmm, do you like that flavor?”
Lily shrugged, drawn in by the heat of his gaze. His pecs bunched close together as he shifted. She had to look; trying not to look at him was like trying to stop the earth’s rotation. “Yes.”
She’d flirted before, of course. But never with quite this much sexual undertone. Mostly, she had no idea how to respond, though her inner wildcat was trying her damnedest to play this game. It was fun and made her feel feminine and aware, for the first time in too long, that she was young and single.
Garrett slid a hand over to hers, his fingers briefly grazing over her knuckles. “In that case, you know where to come if you want more.”
Lily was halfway to taking a drink and nearly spilled the bottle at the grainy sound of his words. Tongue-brain connection lost.
Garrett moved back to help someone while Lily took a deep breath. The clink of bottles and glasses surrounded her; the low tone of Garrett’s voice washed over her as he spoke to a customer. He was quick to mix up a couple of drinks, flashing just the right amount of smile and charm as he interacted with a woman next to her. Lily did a double take to her left. A line of women had formed next to her, all glancing hopefully—excitedly—at Garrett. He’d ignored one woman in order to talk to Lily, but this line was too long and estrogen fueled to be defeated.
This was probably her cue that the fun was over. And it had been fun, and freeing and exciting and just the tiptoe back into a male-filled world she’d been hoping for. She turned to leave.
“Don’t go.”
Lily glanced back to see him holding up one finger in her direction, bidding her to wait as he set the last drink on the counter.
“You’re busy,” she said. It was true, but she didn’t really want to go. Still, being in the way wasn’t going to do either of them much good. Garrett’s attention was a balm for her ego, no doubt. Especially with the tension that had crept in earlier to eat up her fun.
He sauntered back over, pulled a bar towel from his shoulder and looped it around her upper arm, holding her steady. The sincerity in his eyes was way more than she was prepared for. Garrett gave the towel a gentle tug, making her body lean against the bar and bringing his mouth inches from her ear.
“Not too busy for you.”
GARRETT HAD BEEN in center of a raging house fire yesterday, and yet the adrenaline rush he’d felt fighting that flame didn’t compare a lick to the one Lily was giving him.
He’d seen her the minute she’d swayed into his bar a couple of hours ago; he’d had a hell of a time keeping his eyes off her so he’d quit trying. In a sea of stick-thin, cookie-cutter blondes, this tattooed beauty was a midnight dream come to life. She was tall and curvy, and the coconut bra she wore did little to hide the round sides of her breasts. The tie around her back was fashioned into a bow that accentuated smooth muscles and supple skin. A faux-grass skirt hung low on the curves of her hips—full hips that embraced a smooth, soft belly. He loved that she didn’t try to cover up her curves. The colorful tattoo sleeve, stick-straight, long black hair and red lipstick she wore only kicked his interest into overdrive.
He hadn’t been this attracted to a woman in a long time. Usually the women he flirted with, and ultimately took home, offered the bare minimum of emotional connection. He was all right with that, and, though he was always a gentleman, he tended to seek out women who were single-mindedly interested in the same thing he was: sex without commitment.
He’d been in a bit of a dry spell lately, though. The work it took to flirt and woo his way through the bar scene to find a suitable woman was getting old. Flat. Boring. He kept telling himself it was okay to step back from the dating scene. But as the weeks of lonely nights and an empty bed went by, he wasn’t sure he knew what he was holding out for anymore.
Lily had just dumped an ocean all over his dry spell. She wasn’t his normal type, but she had fun written all over her. Looking at the crystal lights shimmering over Lily’s hair and the lushness of her body in that Hawaiian outfit made his libido adamantly agree. But long-term? Hell, no. Marriage led to kids, a house, a dog and all that jazz. All the things that could go up in flames in the blink of an eye. No way. He’d settle for a dry spell rather than let his heart take in too much, only to lose everything.
He’d been down that road too many times now, watching people he cared about suffer tragedy. Bad things happened to good people, wasn’t that the saying? Being a fireman, he saw it all the time, even among his own men. Divorce, deaths, affairs, accidents—all the things that jacked up the cost of love. No one was immune when fate decided to play a dark game.
Lily’s eyelashes fluttered, and her scarlet-red lips parted slightly. Garrett recognized her sensuality but had a pretty good inkling that she was completely unaware of how siren-like she was—and