Feisty Firefighters Bundle

“Never is a long time, Dax.”

“Yes.”

“What will happen if we disagree about something?”

“What do you mean?”

She bounced up again, stalked the length of her kitchen. “You’ll expect me to do things your way.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of give-and-take?”

“You expect me to believe you’ll let me do things my way?”

“Yes! Look, I know I don’t hold back much. I have a wide range of emotions, and I’m afraid I have a temper, too.” His voice gentled, became disturbingly intimate. “But I’d never hurt you, Amber. It’s not a stretch for me to make that promise. It shouldn’t be a stretch for anyone to make you that promise.”

“Yeah well, you’d be surprised.”

“I wish we were having this conversation in person. So that I could touch you while I tell you all this.”

Heat, the kind he always seemed to cause within her, warmed her from head to toe. “That’s…probably not wise.”

“When I touch you, you let down that guard. When I kiss you, you let go even more. You let me see the real you.”

She took a deep breath because suddenly she couldn’t seem to get enough air, but the yearning deep inside her didn’t fade.

“I like that real you, Amber.”

She let out a disparaging sound and sat down again. “I never know what to say to you.”

“Say you believe me. That you believe in us.”

“There is no us.”

As if he heard her panic, he softened his voice even more. “Us as in Taylor’s parents.”

“That’s all.”

“That’s the most important,” he agreed. “For now. You and Taylor, you can depend on me, Amber. That’s a promise, and I’ve never broken one yet.”

No one had ever made her a promise and kept it.

“What do you think, Amber? Can I pick you and Taylor up tomorrow night. At six? You’ll have a great time.”

“Another promise.”

“Absolutely.”

She swallowed hard, fighting her vulnerability with every ounce of strength she possessed. It helped to glance over and see Taylor sleeping peacefully. Happy and content. “Tomorrow, then,” she whispered, and hung up before Dax could question the quiver in her voice.

Drawing in a deep, cleansing breath, Amber beat back her emotions. It was a lifelong habit.

Then she fought her fears the best way she knew how, with food. Lots of it.

THE NEXT NIGHT, at nearly six o’clock, Amber stood in a bra and panties contemplating her closet. She’d been looking at her wardrobe for an embarrassing hour now. “A barbecue,” she muttered.

What did one wear to such an event?

Jeans, she decided, with a shrug that would have told anyone watching that she couldn’t care less.

But she did care, too much. She wanted to look good for a man she hadn’t wholly decided to let herself care for.

She slipped into the jeans and stared at herself. They were too tight, thanks to her just-given-birth-three- months-ago body, but she didn’t own a larger size.

Fine, so she wouldn’t wear jeans. With another shrug, she yanked them off. But her khakis had some sort of stain on them, one that could be directly related to Taylor. Her wool trousers were far too dressy.

Dressy, she could have handled. But this was a family party. Silk and stockings weren’t required.

And wasn’t that just the problem?

She tossed her wool trousers over her shoulder to join her other discarded clothing on the floor and stood in front of the mirror. “It’s not the clothes,” she admitted out loud. It was the evening ahead that had her nerves in a riot.

There.

She’d admitted it.

Her bout of anxiety had nothing to do with where she was going, it was who she was going with.

Dax did this to her, damn him, caused this butterfly dance low in her belly. “And the mess in this room is his fault, too,” she decided, looking around at the cyclone she’d wrought. Nearly everything she owned was in a pile on the floor.

The doorbell rang.

She froze. “Oh my God.” Galvanized into action, she threw on a denim skirt and shoved her arms into a white button-up, long-sleeved shirt. Last minute panic time was over. She’d have to make do as she was.

Her usually perfectly groomed hair was wild. So were her dark eyes. She had no idea where the flush on her cheeks came from, but it made her look…young. Too young.

And the shirt, good Lord. White had not been the wisest choice, only emphasizing her new bra size.

The doorbell rang again and she dashed out of her room, past the second bedroom where Taylor lay sleeping and down the hall.

Her heart was pounding.

No rush, she told herself, and purposely stopped to draw in a deep, calming breath. She was fine.

Just fine.

When she believed it, when she had some semblance of calm, she opened the door.

And immediately lost it again.

Dax was leaning against the jamb, looking shockingly desirable. He wore jeans and a long-sleeved shirt the exact color of his baby blue eyes.

Those eyes smiled into hers as he leaned close, and any semblance of calm flew right out the window. His scent assaulted her; clean, woodsy, and all male. Then her breath backed up in her throat because he was so close she almost-almost-tipped toward him.

She wanted a kiss.

Startled, she just looked at him, specifically at that mouth that she knew could drive her crazy. No. No kiss, she decided hastily. She couldn’t handle it, not now, not when her control was already long gone.

“Hey,” he said, moving even closer, and her heart stumbled. His sleepy, heavy-lidded eyes met hers for one long, silent moment.

Please, was her only, suddenly shocking thought. Kiss me.

As if he could hear her, his long lashes lowered over his eyes, his mouth brushed her jaw.

Yes, yes, he was going to do it, thank God, for she wanted that with every fiber of her being. Forget control, forget distance, she wanted his kiss. Now.

Softly, gently, his lips slid over her cheek, nipped at her throat and then…he straightened away from her. “You’re here. I thought maybe you’d changed your mind.”

“No.” She had to clear her throat. “I’m ready. I…just need to get Taylor.”

His grin was more than a little wicked. “You’re happy to see me.”

She managed a laugh. “Not really.”

“Another lie.” He tsked. “Santa’s going to take you off his list.” Then he smiled slow and sure. “You wanted me to kiss you.”

“In your dreams.”

His laugh was just as wicked as his grin. “Oh, you’re most definitely in my dreams.”

His eyes were so hot, so sure and knowing, she swallowed hard. “I’ll get Taylor.”

His gaze dipped down to her mouth, then further still, slowly running over her body in a way that might have,