LITMIR.BIZ

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in seconds. It was incredible.”

      “I guess. If you call fourteen stitches incredible.”

      Skyler’s gaze dropped to the floor, but Jack had seen the worry in her eyes. After losing her father, he supposed she feared for the rest of her family. She sipped her beer, the haunted look lingering in her eyes. She looked small and alone.

      Hadn’t he sworn to serve and protect? Well, no. That was the cops. Hmm. Well, in addition to being a firefighter, he was a medic. He’d sworn to heal.

      His gaze bounced from Skyler to the dance floor, then back. What the hell. “Hey, Gus, I promised Skyler a dance. Can you take over for a bit?”

      “Sure.” Gus glanced at his watch as he walked around the end of the bar. “My waitress and busboy should be here any minute. You two have fun.”

      Jack rounded the bar, then stood just behind Skyler, his hands resting on the back of her barstool. The heat and flowery perfume rising from her skin wound his muscles tighter.

      “I never said I’d dance with you,” she said in a low tone.

      He leaned close to her ear, tendrils of her blond hair tickling his nose. “Will you dance with me, ’tite ange?”

      She turned her head, bringing their faces so close, her breath whispered across his skin. His gaze flicked to her lips. The urge to kiss her kicked through him, but he tamped down the impulse.

      “Okay,” she said finally, a little hesitant.

      Before she could regret her decision, he captured her hand in his, then led her to the dance floor. The postage-stamp-size area forced them close together, though only four other couples were dancing. He slid his arms around her waist, while she rested her hands on his shoulders, stretching to reach.

      “How tall are you anyway?”

      “Six-six.” He frowned and noted Skyler frowned as well. Maybe he intimidated her. She was so petite, delicate…untouchable. What the hell was he doing with her?

      Dancing. Just dancing.

      Yeah, right. Like her cop brother would believe that. A cop brother who came into the bar often.

      Jack bit back a groan—of regret and hunger. Skyler felt wonderful, soft and curvy against his body. He longed to run his hands down her backside, pulling her against his erection.

      “I haven’t danced in a long time,” she said, her sweet breath caressing him through his cotton T-shirt.

      He stared down at her, his gaze riveted by the glistening curve of her lips. “Me either.”

      Her eyes turned smokey, needy. That look had followed him into sleep every night for a week. She might be fighting their attraction, but she felt it.

      As awareness danced between them, she fixed her gaze on his lips, then licked hers. And he lost his battle with restraint.

      Leaning down, he fit his mouth over hers, moving his lips against hers, memorizing the taste and feel of her in case she never let him touch her again. Her lips trembled, then parted, inviting him inside the warmth of her mouth. He slid his tongue against hers, gliding against her heat, her sweetness. As he pulled her closer, her stomach nestled against his erection, and he groaned into her mouth.

      Could he work around the brother problem? Could he bury his insecurity about his past? He had no idea, but he wanted Skyler, all her beauty and spunk and curves. Very little else seemed to matter at the moment.

      She leaned back, breathing hard, staring at him oddly. “Oh, hell, not again.”

      Her eyes dilated. Her MVP? If she fainted again, by damn, he’d drag her to the doctor personally. “Skyler?”

      She rested her head against his chest. “Hmm?”

      “Are you okay? You’re not going to faint, are you?”

      “Not as long as you’re holding me up.”

      He was certainly enjoying serving as her prop, but even his libido couldn’t override concern for her medically. “Take easy, deep breaths. Concentrate on stabilizing your heart rate.”

      She lifted her head, looking up at him. “Relax. I’m not going to drop at your feet.”

      He lifted his eyebrows. She had before.

      “Again,” she finished, then grinned.

      Relaxing a bit, he stroked her hair back from her face. “You know, chère, about that drink…maybe you could reconsider—”

      Her gaze darted over his shoulder, distracting him. He glanced around, but didn’t see any enraged brothers bearing down on him, so he turned back to her.

      “Would you excuse me just a moment?” she said before he could continue.

      Breaking free of his hold, she strode toward the bar, pulled something from her purse, then crossed to a table occupied by three women who appeared to be the walking definition of “biker chicks.” Though everyone seemed to be wearing leather lately, these tough faces, windblown hair, black motorcycle boots and tattooed arms belonged on the back of a Harley.

      His body still vibrating from her kiss, Jack narrowed his eyes, starting after her. What was she up to?

      “I’LL CALL YOU next week about your order, Flash,” Skyler said, then glanced back and saw Jack working his way across the bar. Damn, damn, damn. He’d never believe Flash and her “gang” were customers of the shop. What in the world was he doing at a biker bar anyway? Didn’t he know the cops and firefighters all hung out at The Corner Pub in town? And what in heaven’s name had possessed her to kiss him?

      “Great. Thanks for finding my wallet and bringin’ it way out here,” Flash said, punching Skyler’s shoulder lightly.

      Wincing from the friendly jab, Skyler backed away from the table. “No problem. I—” She couldn’t get the words “come here all the time” past her lips again. “I was glad to do it for such a terrific customer. See ya.” She waggled her fingers, then spun to intercept Jack before he reached them.

      Too late, she thought somewhat hysterically as she plowed into his wide chest. She bounced off the hard muscle and would have fallen flat on her butt if he hadn’t grabbed her by the waist. Why did the man have to be so attentive…so “gorgeous and available,” as she’d overheard at least fifty times during the week from the stream of helpful gossips passing through her shop. Only Roland was disappointed in Jack’s attributes. “Straight,” he’d informed her mournfully.

      Once she found the courage to look up, her gaze connected with his. Big mistake. Those soulful brown eyes belonged on a child, not a full-grown man. And, heavens, did he have great lips. She wanted them on hers again…and again. Desire trembled through her veins.

      “Are you okay, chère?” he asked.

      And that accent…whew. “Just super,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t question her further. Their explosive kiss had left her light-headed—which he didn’t have to know about—so her biker customers had come as a welcome distraction. But, as usual, she was now questioning her impulse.

      “What was that all about?” he asked, nodding to the women behind her.

      Living up to those brash Kimball genes was damn overwhelming sometimes. She shrugged. A girl’s gotta do… “Flash is a customer.”

      Jack raised one black eyebrow. “Flash?”

      She stepped out of his embrace, crossing her arms over her chest. “The brunette in the middle—the one with the blond streaks in her hair.”

      “She’s a customer?” He smirked. “Somehow I don’t picture her seeped in lace and tradition.”

      “Maybe she likes lace and tradition.”

      Both eyebrows darted up. “I’m sure.”

      Ha!

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