LITMIR.BIZ

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fighting his intense aversion to physical contact.

      “That’s it, Ethan. Very good.” The praise lightened something inside him. Her voice seemed to be whispering right into his soul, its soft entreaty arousing.

      With his eyes closed, his other senses sharpened. The evocative scent of coconut. The repetitive waves crashing and retreating. The touch of skin against skin. Her hands worked their way down his spine, stroking, rubbing, deep into his flesh. As she reached the small of his back, he felt her strokes change from the broader heel of her hand to pointed knuckles making quick circles.

      Her knuckles worked their way up his back again and then she started massaging his shoulders, and down his arms, her fingers kneading the muscles. All the while she talked. “Feel your heart rate slow,” she crooned. “Listen to each breath you take.”

      Her voice soothed him as she performed miracles on his feet and calves, spreading oil as she caressed up his thighs. Maybe there was something to this massage thing. He was feeling more relaxed… .

      Before he knew it, she had him turn over. When he raised his arms to clasp his hands beneath his head, he brushed her breast. A breast that wasn’t covered with a bra. A breast that was the most perfect shape. And the nipple of which had hardened to a bead against his forearm. Suddenly, he realized he’d lost control of his arousal.

      She froze. Time seemed suspended. All he could hear was her breathing, quick and ragged.

      Ethan closed his eyes, barely stifling a groan. To his horror, his dick hardened even more.

      No way she didn’t notice his wood.

      Surely this was a common physical reaction to a massage. Wasn’t it?

      Her hands resumed their caressing, working their way slowly down to his stomach and then on to the edge of the towel. When she moved to his thighs, she brushed against his out-of-control erection, and he jackknifed up and bolted off the table. But he lost his footing, stumbled into the windowsill and knocked over several candles. Flames instantly ignited the silk scarf.

      After staring in disbelief for an instant, he turned to the woman. “Go get your fire extinguisher.”

      She blinked at the spreading flames. “I’m not sure … I don’t think I have one.”

      “Don’t have one? How could you …” Looking around, he grabbed the fountain and splashed water onto the fire, which had reached the shelves full of bottles of … crap. Of oil. The flames leaped higher. The cord from the fountain knocked over several bottles when he yanked it from the wall, and the water pushed the flames closer to the spilled oil. Great.

      The fire popped and crackled. Smoke swirled thick and black in the tiny room. His eyes stung. He coughed and turned to tell Lily to get out and call 911, but she’d disappeared. Good. She was ahead of him. He probably only had time for one more chance before the fire engulfed the entire room, if not the premises.

      Think, Grady! Oil fires. Baking soda. He needed something to smother it with. Of course. He headed back to the front room, grabbed up the largest potted plant, ripped out the plant and tried to get back in to dump the damp soil on the flames, but the fire had all but consumed the room.

      One small planter of soil wouldn’t even slow it down.

      As he ran for the front door, Lily appeared in his path carrying the black cat, a tan-and-white guinea pig and a bird cage containing a plump white cockatoo. She thrust them into his arms, her face soot-coated but determined. “Take Ingrid, Scarlett and Bette. I’ve got to get Humphrey and Rhett.” She spun on her heel, heading back into the fog of smoke.

       What the hell?

      “Wait.” He set the birdcage down, tightened his hold on the squirming animals and lunged forward to block her way. “You’re not going anywhere except out. I’ll get Humphrey and Rhett.” He handed her the cat and the guinea pig. “Who are Humphrey and Rhett?”

      Her face crumpled even as she coughed. “Humphrey’s my basset hound. He’s old and almost blind, and I couldn’t find him. He always sleeps in front of the TV, but he wasn’t there.” She pointed behind the counter to a set of stairs Ethan hadn’t noticed before. “And Rhett’s a big orange tabby. He won’t come willingly.”

      “I’ll find them. Now get out of here.” More animals? Was she insane? Ethan took the stairs three at a time and opened the door into a relatively smoke-free one-room apartment. If he was lucky he had maybe two minutes before the fire burned through the ceiling.

      Now, if he were a dog, where would he hide? Crossing the room in two strides, Ethan dropped to his knees beside the bed and lifted the bedcovers. Sure enough, the stupid mutt was lying sprawled on his side, as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

      Ethan swept the solid lump of dog into his arms, stopped to grab up an orange, hissing, scratching tabby, and then bolted down the stairs just as the ceiling snapped and a falling two-by-four cracked across his shoulder blades, knocking him to his knees. Pain shot down his spine and the room spun around him.

      LILY HEARD THE CRACK of splintering wood. Mother Earth, protect him. She bit her thumbnail, shifting her weight from one bare foot to the other, her attention riveted on the doorway. But Lieutenant Colonel Grady wasn’t coming out… .

      All she could see of the shop now were flames.

      Mist had called 911, Sunny had taken Scarlett and Ingrid to her house, and Lily’s other neighbors had gathered across the street from her shop to offer aid and to commiserate.

      He just had to emerge unhurt.

      The tarot had turned up the Tower, a card of radical transformation. In some cases it could mean the destruction of one’s home. Her home. But she’d think about that later. Lieutenant Colonel Grady had to be okay. There’d been no indication of death or even injury in the cards.

      The moment she’d seen Ethan Grady she’d known he was her next project. She was meant to help him. Just as she had been destined to be there for Theo. And the others who’d followed him. When she received a sign from the universe to help someone, she could no more ignore it than she could let one of her pets come to harm.

      But how could she help this Ethan Grady if—

      There he was! The lieutenant colonel came striding out of the wall of flames holding Rhett and Humphrey as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a man wearing only his undershorts to rescue an old hound dog and a spitting, fighting alley cat from a burning building.

      Lily ran to him. “Thank you.” She beamed at him as she took Humphrey. “Oh, Humphrey, were you scared, sweet pea?” She nuzzled the basset hound’s neck, then turned to set him down on the grass. Mist relieved the man of Rhett, whose claws were dug deep into the poor lieutenant colonel’s shoulder.

      Immediately, Lily placed her hand on Ethan’s arm. “Are you okay?”

      Glaring at her, he stiffened beneath her touch, his spine straight, his jaw clenched. Sirens wailed in the distance as he cleared his throat. “How could you not know where your fire extinguisher is?”

      Lily noted his accusing scowl. But she was saved from answering as he grabbed his ribs and bent over, coughing and hacking, his free hand propped on his knee.

      Worried, she placed her palm on his back to rub, and noticed the red, swollen bump between his shoulder blades. He had been hurt.

      She asked Sunny to get him a glass of water and an ice pack. Sunny nodded and headed back to her shop, but not before giving Lieutenant Colonel Grady’s nearly naked form an appreciative once-over. A possessive tendril flared in Lily’s belly, but she couldn’t blame her friend.

      The gorgeous man was standing in the street wearing nothing but his black boxer briefs and dog tags. His biceps were enormous; his body, though soot-covered, was a testament to nature’s divine purpose. What female could look at those broad shoulders, that dusting of dark hair across sculpted

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