LITMIR.BIZ

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he could wrap his arm around her shoulder. “That’s her holding court with three of the firemen from our fire and rescue station. Megan’s an R.N.”

      “You sound proud.”

      “I’m proud of all of them. Cassie graduated from beauty school last spring and has her own beauty shop over on Pinella. April’s an engineer. Jenna works as a buyer for Macy’s.”

      “And you’re a fireman.”

      He smiled. “That I am, although my primary duty is to head the Marine Rescue Unit. What about you?”

      “I’m a reporter for the Clearwater Daily.” She accepted the glass of wine Cassie handed her and sipped.

      Freakin’ hell. Of all the professions in the world, why that one? “A reporter? Don’t tell me you’re one of those lowlifes who ask victims at the most painful points of their lives how they felt when the car ran over their child or a bomb exploded in their faces.” Or when an arsonist’s handiwork burned down the family’s home with their parents sleeping inside.

      Becca straightened her shoulders and folded her arms at her waist. “People have a right to the news. The complete news.”

      “And people have a right to their privacy. Reporters are the pimple on the ass of the world.”

      Before his eyes, Becca morphed from a sensual, enticing breeze to a blistering tempest. “You arrogant, opinionated ass. Reporters have a job to do the same as anyone else!”

      He leaned in, his temper burning hot in his gut. “Oh, and is it your job to hurt others?”

      “Hur…hurt others? What the hell are you talking about?”

      “Wolf.” Cassie’s request was barely a whisper. She wiped a tear and stormed off.

      Becca stared after his sister’s hurried retreat. “See, you’ve even upset her.”

      “Not me. You.” He poked his finger against the bare skin of her shoulder. He took a deep breath to try and settle his raging anger and glanced away for a beat. “We lost our parents in a fire four years ago. Cassie was staying at a friend’s house the night it happened.”

      He looked at Becca again. Her eyebrows were furrowed, as if taking in every word he uttered. “My baby sister blamed herself for not being home, felt if she had been, she might have saved Mom and Dad. Reporters hounded her relentlessly, asking her how she ‘felt.’” He spat the last word. “She wasn’t the only one harassed. So were the rest of my siblings, but for Cassie, combined with her blaming herself, their onslaught nearly did her in. I left the SEALs and came home to care for her and to finish raising the older three girls.”

      Her warm hand settled on his forearm and he welcomed the contact, reporter or not.

      “I’m sorry for all your family went through. That’s a horrible, horrible tragedy.”

      He nodded, ready to change the topic. “Are your parents living?”

      “Yes. They’re divorced. Dad lost his job in the weakened economy. We lost the house. Mom lost her lifestyle.” She wove fingers through her long curls and sighed. “Everything fell apart.”

      “Yeah. Life can be a bitch.”

      Becca sipped her wine, her forehead furrowed. “You know, not all reporters are as aggressive as the ones your family tangled with.”

      He chuffed a short laugh. “Do you really want to continue down that dark path of conversation? We all have our pet peeves, our push buttons. Reporters are mine.”

      “So you blame all reporters for a few rogue ones with zero sensitivity? Even someone like me, who handles obituaries and the social pages?” Her hazel eyes narrowed and her lips pinched. “Golly, I bet you really hate the guys who cover the sports, thoughtless heathens that they are.” She handed him her glass, turned and stormed out with that world-class ass twitching under her tight skirt.

      He shoved a hand into the pocket of his jeans. A reporter. The first woman in years to snag his attention and she just had to be a freaking reporter. A soulless parasite who fed on the misfortune of others. A beautiful and enticing parasite. She stirred something in him, and he wasn’t at all sure he liked it. He clunked her glass on the stand next to his. Damn it all to hell.

      As if she were a siren and he her mindless fool, he followed.

       Chapter 4

      Becca fingered for her door key, hidden in the hanging fern on her porch and wiped off the dirt before sticking it in her lock. Going over to Wolf’s had been a huge mistake. Huge. She’d gone to the trouble of getting made-up and squeezed into her best dress for five minutes of party and ten minutes of lecture. Damn, what an annoying man.

      From inside, Einstein barked and whined an eager welcome.

      “Becca! Becca, wait up.” Hurried footfalls sounded behind her and a hand coiled around her arm. Wolf turned her to face him. “I was offensive back there. I’m sorry.”

      Just why did you have to make him so handsome, God? Even in the dark, his voice is deep and sensual. Couldn’t you have taken some of his abundant sexiness and used it to make him more pleasant? ’Cause this guy is one rude piece of work.

      She jerked her hand from his grasp. “First, you can stop putting your hands on me. Earlier today you said you were sorry for flirting with me, as if I wasn’t the type of woman you found attractive.”

      “That’s not true. I find you very attractive. What man wouldn’t?”

      She chose to ignore his forced compliment. After all, she’d gotten all dressed up for him and he never once told her how nice she looked. Nice? Hell, she looked hot, the big jerk. “Now you’re apologizing for being impolite and insulting. Tell me, do you ever do anything you don’t regret later?”

      He backed her against the door, his dark eyes glittering in the soft light spilling onto the porch from her desk lamp near the window. Her tummy did a little twitchy thing when his thighs bumped hers. His fingers forked in her hair, angling her head so their gazes locked. “Believe me, you annoying woman, what I’m about to do next I don’t plan on regretting.”

      His warm, soft lips covered hers with gentle sips at first as if tasting her or waiting for her to object. She would have, too, if her mind hadn’t stopped working. Her whole body sparked with a sensual overload, and she trembled with its power. His fingertips massaged her scalp in miniscule circles, sending an erotic electrical current zinging down her thighs to zap the tips of her toes.

      Her hands took on a life of their own and spread over his hard chest and broad shoulders. Tension rippled beneath his white, soft polo shirt as her hands explored and caressed. He tasted of beer and something sweet, whipped into a frenzy with tightly reigned male passion. Wood tones from his cologne were too appealing. Against her desires—or because of them—she pressed against the heat of his muscular frame.

      He groaned her name against her lips and she was lost.

      Wrapping her arms around his neck and allowing her fingers to sift through his long hair, she tangled her tongue with his. Wetness pooled and a moan escaped from the confines of her chest. How long? How long had it been since she’d felt so feminine, so aroused, so damned desperate for a man? When he angled his head to take the kiss deeper and rocked his hips against hers, the fleeting question in her mind morphed into raw need.

      He took control, grabbed her bottom and rubbed her mound against his erection to increase the friction.

      A rainbow of fireworks exploded behind her eyelids. Sensations staggering between pain and pleasure erupted. If she didn’t end this, she’d climax on her front porch—and wouldn’t that just add to his egotistical opinion of himself?

      She

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