Wendy Etherington - Can't Help Falling In Love

“No.”

With those impulsive Kimball genes vibrating, and on the verge of buckling, she smiled. But the bell over the door saved her from some mortifying fate like fainting or throwing herself into his big, strong arms.

Turning, she saw a young man rushing toward her with a giant bouquet of long-stemmed, red roses. He dropped to one knee beside her, holding out the flowers. “Ms. Kimball, I’ve come to declare my undying love.”

The legend of the Kimball boys is alive and well. Skyler closed her eyes. “Not again.”

“Again?” Jack asked from behind her.

“It’s a long story,” she muttered.

“Skyler, oh sweet Skyler,” the boy began. “Your eyes are so blue, your lips are so red. Please don’t tell your brothers I’m here, ’cause I’d soon be dead.”

Knowing the drill, Skyler accepted the roses, then leaned forward to kiss the guy on his forehead. The imprint of her watermelon-shaded lipstick remained as proof of his mission.

As he rose to his feet, he blushed, the freckles across his nose vivid next to his pale skin. “Thanks.”

“What fraternity?” she asked.

“Alpha Kappa Omega.”

“Good luck.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He whirled, then raced from the shop.

Skyler glanced at the bouquet. At least two dozen. Poor guy. He was probably out fifty bucks. She strode to the counter, retrieving a vase from underneath. After filling it with water from the bathroom, she arranged the roses, then set the vase by the register. Maybe she could give away a stem with each purchase.

Jack leaned against the counter. “You wanna tell me what that was all about?”

She glanced up at him. When she answered his question, despite his assurance he wasn’t afraid of her brothers, he’d undoubtedly rescind his drink offer. He’d probably think she and her family were totally nuts. And maybe they were. Losing their father so young had made them all overprotective.

For the first time in…well, for the first time, she found regret slipping past her defenses. She liked him. His boldness, his simmering energy, his…shoulders. Que sera sera. Was that a French or Spanish expression?

“That was a fraternity initiation.”

Not surprisingly, his brow furrowed.

He really is cute….

But he’s got a great job here. Baxter’s city council had voted a salary increase for firefighters, police officials and other critical personnel in the hopes of attracting big city professionals. He’s a real go-getter, Ben had said. He certainly wouldn’t and shouldn’t risk his job for her. Even if she wanted him in return, which she certainly did not. Skyler plus Dangerous Man equals Trouble.

“Bravery is part of most fraternity initiation codes. Since asking me out is akin to near suicide, I’ve become a symbol, so to speak.” When he continued to stare at her in confusion, she drew a deep breath and plunged. “The guys come here with a big production of flowers, declare their undying love, then see how long they can duck out of sight before one of my brothers threatens them. It’s all in fun,” she said defensively.

“Ah.” He leaned his forearms on the counter, bringing his face within inches of hers. “These ‘threats’ by your brothers, is that the reason you won’t go out with me?”

Well, duh! “Isn’t that enough?”

His gaze turned hungry. “No.”

She goggled. She gaped. This guy wasn’t going to be brushed off like the others. And, by damn, if she didn’t oddly find herself admiring him for his determination. “Jack…”

“I like the way you say my name, chère.”

Oh, boy. She swallowed. “You’re really nice…”

He winced. “The kiss of death.”

“Trust me when I say nice guys are rare. I don’t mean you’re a sap, or anything, I mean you’re gracious and kind and helpful.” Heroic, actually, but she didn’t know how to say that without sounding idiotic.

“I’m still not sure if you’re flattering or insulting me.”

He’s a guy, she reminded herself. What description would her brothers prefer? Macho, dangerous, virile. The first two she could agree with, the third she could only speculate about, bringing her back to her original intention—to turn him down, for his own good. And hers.

“Be flattered,” she said finally. “But my brother is your boss, and if we go out together…”

“I’ll be out on my ass.”

“Faster than you can say 9-1-1.”

The determination in his eyes never wavered.

Yikes. She didn’t want to be a challenge. She wanted Mr. Dangerous, Hunky Hero to say okeydokey and amble merrily on his way.

She already liked him. And liking led to caring. Caring led to love. Love led to loss and deep, dark despairing grief. No, thank you.

Again, the door swung open. Roland Patterson swept inside. “Skyler, darling,” he called, waving a pad of paper. “You want in on the pool?” He paused at the counter, smiling slowly at Jack. “Why it’s Fluffy’s savior. How delightful to see you, Firefighter Jack.”

Jack nodded. “Mr. Patterson.”

Skyler watched Jack’s reaction for the usual homophobic nonsense, but he displayed nothing of the sort. Damn. Just when she was ready to put another black mark by his name—other than the job and tendency toward reckless heroism—he had to go and be even more interesting.

“Pool?” she asked Roland to distract herself.

“Frat Boy Survival,” he said as if that were obvious, and Skyler groaned. “I saw the darling redhead with the roses. Kind of scrawny. I’m giving him twelve hours.”

Glaring at Roland, Jack straightened to his full height, leaving Skyler dizzy and Roland gaping. “You’re betting how long before that kid gets pummeled?”

“Well, uh…” Roland’s gaze darted to Skyler for support.

Skyler crossed her arms over her chest. She, too, thought the pool idea was tacky at best, but she also felt obliged to defend her family. “My brothers wouldn’t pummel a kid.” Would they? She’d better keep an eye on them for the next few days, just in case.

“Count me out.” Jack glanced at Skyler, then smiled briefly. “I gotta get going.” He turned, tossing “see ya, chère,” over his shoulder before sauntering from the shop.

A deep, heartfelt sigh escaped Roland. “That is one incredible hunk of man.”

Her head still spinning, Skyler couldn’t nod, but, for once, Roland hadn’t exaggerated.

A WEEK LATER, Jack sat in the Leather and Lace bar, sipping a biting glass of whiskey, considering the temptation of Skyler Kimball.

A temptation he should resist, to be sure, though it got harder every day. Hell, he got harder every day. Just thinking about those lacy purple panties she wore sent him straight to a cold shower every time. His instinctive reaction to her was inconvenient and stupid, since no matter how beautiful and lust-inducing, she was off-limits.

He’d debated calling her all week, but deep down he knew he didn’t belong with ’tite ange Skyler Kimball. She sold frilly dresses and saved pampered cats. She wouldn’t spend her nights with a swamp rat like him. This bar suited “Wild Jack” Tesson better.

The scarred wooden floor looked as though it had greeted many a customer and borne many a barroom brawl. The black vinyl-covered booths were nicked and rubbed down to the Styrofoam padding. The jukebox roared. The bar was long, well-stocked and packed with customers. His grandparents had practically raised him in a similar bar in Louisiana.

Skyler probably didn’t even know where this place was. He needed to put her out of his mind. He’d come to Baxter with the intention of earning respect, gaining experience and moving on to bigger things. He’d long ago realized his yearning for success was rooted in his insecure relationship with his parents. He’d never understood why saving whales in Fiji had been more important than raising their son.