Page 52 of The Night Belongs To Fireman

“It sounded more like you ended it.”

Fred didn’t want to answer that. He didn’t want to talk about Courtney at all. Desperately he turned the subject around to Rachel. “What about your exes? What sort of guys do you go out with?”

“Me? Oh, you know …”

They reached the benches at the shoe rental return. He plopped down and began unlacing his bowling shoes. “No idea. That’s why I’m asking.”

“Well,” Rachel sat down next to him. “I don’t go on many dates here in San Gabriel. Back home, I usually go out with people my father already knows. We might go to a fund-raiser or a charity event, things like that. He’s less worried about that type of person.”

“The rich type,” Fred offered grimly.

“Not necessarily rich. Just … in the same world, I suppose.”

“You don’t have to explain.” He understood perfectly well. Never in a million years would Rob Kessler consider plain old Fred Breen suitable dating material for his daughter. Bodyguard material, sure. But that’s where it ended. The thought made him suddenly grumpy.

She folded her arms across her chest. “You have this look on your face like we’re snobs.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I can tell what you’re thinking. You’re not very good at hiding your thoughts.”

“Better than you think,” Fred muttered. If she had any idea how many of his thoughts involved her body parts, she’d be stunned. “Your father wants the best for you, that’s all. I don’t have a problem with that.”

“I’m twenty-five years old. Don’t you think I can decide for myself who’s best for me?”

“Your father runs security checks on your dates,” he pointed out. “What happens if he says no? That’d be the end of that, right?” He didn’t know why he couldn’t leave it alone. The thought of rich guys in tuxedos escorting her to fund-raisers made him crazy.

She yanked off her bowling shoes and glared at him. “You are so annoying.”

He shrugged. “Just pointing out the obvious.”

Surging to her feet, bowling shoes in hand, she rounded on him. “You know … up until now, this has been the best night of my life. And I was going to … to kiss you for it.”

The way she said “kiss” made him think she meant something different. That thought kept him rooted to the bench while she continued her rant.

“But now you’ve ruined everything. And I’m not going to kiss you. I’m just going to …” She interrupted herself by bending down and pressing her lips onto his. Sweet fire crashed through his system. He went hard as a bowling pin, and his head spun. Images cascaded across his vision. Her legs in those black vinyl pants. The thin sliver of skin revealed by her belly shirt, and her vulnerable shadowed navel. Unable to stop himself, he shaped his hands to her waist, feeling the tender give of her skin and the slickness of the vinyl.

She yanked her head away from his, putting her hand to her lips as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just done. Then she took a giant step back, so her body slipped from his hands.

“Okay, I guess I will kiss you. Did kiss you. Once. That’s all. Because it was a really great night. Can we go now?”

He took in a deep, lung-clearing breath. “In a minute.”

“I want to go now!”

“In a minute.”

She flicked an indignant glance up and down his body, which didn’t do his painful hard-on any favors. “Oh.”

Chapter 15

Rachel had been all set to tell Bradford Maddox IV that she no longer needed an escort to Cindy’s wedding. But then Fred had started in with his teasing, and his insinuations that she wasn’t in charge of her own love life, and she changed her mind. He could take his opinions and his rude ex-girlfriend and shove it.

Sure, maybe he had a point. Her father did dictate certain aspects of her life. On the other hand, she’d fought so hard for every piece of her independence. If her father had his way, she’d be back at Cranesbill, attending charity events with millionaires. Instead she was living on her own in San Gabriel and running the Refuge. Didn’t Fred understand what a miracle that was?

Still, the germ of truth in Fred’s accusation got under her skin. It seemed even more accurate when Bradford picked her up in his red Porsche convertible. Dressed in a custom-tailored suit, his Bluetooth behind his ear, he looked the part of the picture-perfect Silicon Valley venture capitalist.

Come to think of it, she’d never seen him without his Bluetooth.

Bradford helped her into the Porsche with a glance back at Fred, who was just getting into his pickup. “You got yourself an official stalker?”

“That’s one way to put it.” She didn’t want to talk about Fred. She wanted to get to the wedding, stand next to Cindy on her big day, then get straight to the champagne.

Bradford had been the first of her father’s colleagues to back the Refuge, and she’d always been grateful for that. Anyone who cared about animals was okay in her book. On the other hand, the last time she’d seen him he’d talked about nothing but his financial dealings and never mentioned the Refuge. She was starting to wonder how deep his commitment to wildlife went. And if he rattled on about his investments again, she might start to zone out.

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