He nodded and went on to explain that the fire season in Australia was the exact opposite of the season in the U.S. As a result, a lot of Australian smoke jumpers worked in the American West during the summer. The longer he talked, the more fascinated Maddie became, not only by what he said but by the sound of his voice as he said it. And the longer he talked, the more Maddie began to wonder if this wasn’t the perfect man for her to fall off the wagon with. He would be in Truly for a short time and then he’d leave. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but she knew that didn’t mean anything. She leaned in a little closer and asked, “Are you married?” just to make sure. But before he could answer, two hands grasped the backs her arms and lifted her to her feet. She was turned slowly around until her gaze landed on a broad chest in a black Mort’s T-shirt. Through the dark surrounding them, she recognized the chest even before she raised her gaze up a thick neck, strong chin, and compressed lips. She didn’t have to see his eyes clearly to know they burned an angry blue.
Mick leaned close and said next to her ear, “What are you doing here?”
He smelled like soap and skin. “Apparently I’m talking to you.”
One of his hands slid to hers and grasped her like a hot vice. “Let’s go.”
She grabbed her purse from the table and looked over her shoulder at Ryan, then Adele. “I’ll be right back,” she hollered.
“You sound sure about that,” said the man hauling her through the crowd toward the back of Mort’s. “Excuse us,” she said as she bumped into Darla. He kept a tight grip on her hand as he just kind of moved through the crowd like a linebacker. She was forced to issue a “Pardon me” and another “Excuse us” over the music pouring from the juke. They walked past the end of the bar, down a short hall, and he pulled her behind him into a small room.
He closed the door and dropped her hand. “I told you to stay out of my bar.”
In one quick glance, Maddie’s gaze took in an oak desk, a coatrack, a big metal safe, and a leather sofa. “You were talking about Hennessy’s at the time.”
“No. I wasn’t.” His gaze narrowed and she could practically feel anger rolling off him in waves. “Because I’m a nice guy, I’m going to give you the option of grabbing your friend and walking out the front door.”
Once again, she didn’t fear his anger. Instead, she almost liked the way it turned his eyes kind of fierce, and she leaned back against the door. “Or?”
“I’ll toss you out on your ass.”
She tilted her head to the side. “Then I should probably warn you that, if you touch me again, I have a Taser and I’ll shoot fifty thousand volts in
He blinked. “You pack a Taser?”
“Among other things.”
Again he blinked, kind of slow, like he couldn’t believe he’d heard her right. “What things?”
“Pepper spray. Brass knuckles. A hundred-and-twenty-five-decibel screecher alarm. Handcuffs and a Kubaton.”
“Is it even legal to pack a Taser?”
“It’s legal in forty-eight states. This is Idaho. What do you think?”
“You’re crazy.”
She smiled. “So I’ve been told.”
He stared at her for several moments before he asked, “Do you make it a habit of running around pissing people off?”
She occasionally did make people mad, but she never made a habit of it. “No.”
“Then it’s just me.”
“I don’t mean to make you mad, Mick.”
One dark brow rose up his tan forehead.
“Well, I didn’t mean to make you mad before tonight. But I kind of have a little problem with being told what I can and can’t do.”
“No shit.” He folded his arms across his wide chest. “Why do you need all that stuff?”
“I interview people who aren’t very nice.” She shrugged. “They’re usually in belly chains and leg irons and cuffed to a table when I talk to them, though. Or we talk through Plexiglas. Of course, prisons never let me take in my safety devices, but I always get them back when I leave. I feel safer when I’m packing.”
He took a step back and his gaze raked her up and down. “You look normal. But you’re not.”
Maddie didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not. He probably didn’t mean it as a compliment, though.
He rocked back on his heels and looked down at her. “Were you planning on zapping the blond guy coming on to you in the corner?”
“Ryan? No, but if he plays his cards right, I might cuff him.”
“He’s a tool.”
If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was jealous. “Do you know him?”
“I don’t have to know him to know he’s a tool.”
Which made no sense at all. “How can you say someone’s a tool if you don’t know him?”
Instead of answering, he said, “You were practically tongue-kissing him.”
“That’s ridiculous. I haven’t made out with a stranger in a bar since college.”
“Maybe you’re tired of being ‘kind of sexually abstinent.’”
That was an understatement. She was really tired of it, but when she thought of having hot, down-and-dirty, animal sex, she thought of Mick. Ryan was cute, but ultimately he was a stranger in a bar, and she no longer made out or picked up strangers in bars. “Don’t worry about my celibacy.”
His gaze slid to her mouth and lower, down her chin and throat, and got hung up on her breasts. It was past nine, so of course she was cold. “Honey, your body isn’t made for celibacy.” Her hard nipples made two sharp points in the front of her dress. “It’s made for sex.” He raised his gaze to hers. “Lots of rough, sweaty sex that lasts all night long and into the next morning.”
Normally she might have been tempted to Mace a guy for saying that, but when Mick said it, she felt hot little tugs in her stomach and her body urged her to raise her hand to volunteer for sweaty sex duty. “Celibacy is a state of mind.”
“Which explains why you’ve gone insane.”
“Now who’s the tool?” She adjusted her purse to keep it from falling off her shoulder, but her fingers barely touched the bag before Mick pinned her wrists to the door beside her head.
She looked up into his face an inch above hers. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not going to just stand here and let you shoot my ass with fifty thousand volts.”
She tried not to smile and failed. “I was adjusting my bag on my shoulder.”
“Call me paranoid, but I don’t believe you.”
“You really thought I was going to zap you?” Zapping him had been the furthest thing from her mind.
“You weren’t?”
She chuckled. “No. You’re too pretty to get shot with fifty thousand volts.”
“I’m not pretty.” He let out a breath and it touched the side of her face and neck. “You smell like strawberries.”
“It’s my lotion.”
“You smelled like strawberries that day in Handy Man Hardware.” He buried his
