Page 56 of The Night Belongs To Fireman

“I have to say something,” she gasped. But then she couldn’t remember what it was. The utter, overwhelming sweetness of Fred’s hands on her drove everything else from her mind.

“Can it wait?” His mouth was buried somewhere in her hair so he could deliver maddening nibbles along the whorls of her ear. “Because I don’t think I can stop.”

His callused palms stroked heat along her exposed shoulder blades, then traced the dip of her sweetheart neckline, setting the sensitive skin of her chest ablaze. “You’ve been driving me crazy with this dress. I don’t know how Bradford kept his hands off you.”

The mention of Bradford finally brought her back to her senses. She pulled away, panting, then clutched at his shoulders to stabilize herself. The wallpapered alcove spun around her like a kaleidoscope of cream and gold. “Oh God. Bradford.”

He yanked his hands off her and buried them in his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Rachel.”

“Don’t be.” She shook her head fiercely as she adjusted her dress. “This was all my fault. Anyway, Bradford doesn’t care about me. If my last name was Spurkel he wouldn’t say boo to me.”

“Spurkel?” Fred scratched at his head. His hair stood up in all directions. He was so adorable her knees shook.

“Generic silly last name.”

Fred took a long step backward and shoved his hands in his pockets as if to keep them safely stowed away. A huge bulge protruded from the front of his pants. She covered her mouth as a little laugh escaped her.

“Laugh it up, Kessler,” he said with mock grimness. “Enjoy yourself while I suffer.”

Behind them, someone cleared his throat. Fred spun around, while Rachel peered over his shoulder, sure it was Bradford. Luckily, it was a stranger in a business suit, who muttered, “Get a room,” before pushing his way into the men’s room.

Fred turned back to Rachel, offering his hand. “You’d better get back to your date.”

“It’s not a date,” she told him, suddenly horrified at the idea that she’d kissed one man while out with another. “I’d call it more of a business conference. All he wants to do is talk about his investments.”

“Rich guy, huh?”

She shrugged. “I’m sure he’d show you his portfolio if you asked.”

A shadow came over Fred’s open, square-jawed face. “Come on. He must be wondering where you are.”

Rachel managed to avoid both Fred and Bradford for the rest of the reception. She wasn’t sure why Fred had changed gears, going from passionate kisser to blank-faced bodyguard. But it made her heart ache. Those few hot moments had made her long for him with an intensity she’d never experienced before. It felt as if they’d become neurologically connected in some mysterious way. Even when she was chatting with Cindy’s parents, she knew exactly where he was. She knew when he was watching her, knew when he turned his attention elsewhere.

At the same time, she didn’t think she could bear another car ride with Bradford. As soon as it seemed polite to leave the reception, she pulled him aside.

“I’m exhausted, Bradford,” she said, hiding a yawn behind a discreet hand. “Would you mind if I drove home with Fred? It’ll save you the trip.”

“In what? That truck’s one step removed from a mechanical bull. Surely you’d rather ride home in the Porsche.” He took her arm possessively. She slid it out his grasp, trying to hide her instinctive revulsion. She wanted only one man touching her, and it wasn’t Bradford.

“No, thanks. Thank you for accompanying me, Bradford. I’m glad we got a chance to catch up. I’ll send your best to my father.” She stuck out her hand, leaving him no choice but to take it. His blue eyes, pale as dawn, flickered between her and Fred, who’d just joined them.

“What’s up with this guy?” Bradford asked nastily.

Rachel stiffened. Was it so obvious that she turned into a human torch the instant Fred got close? “I told you Fred’s my temporary bodyguard. We’re driving to the same place, I’m exhausted, and I’d rather just catch a ride with him.”

Bradford toyed with the Bluetooth practically implanted in his ear. “I don’t like what’s going on here.”

Fred, who’d been silent until now, stepped in. “Whether you like it or not, Rachel said she’s tired and would prefer the evening to end here.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Bradford directed his attention to Fred. The two men faced off with each other, Bradford’s cool, moneyed sophistication versus Fred’s forthright sturdiness. A little thrill went through her as she realized there was no contest, not really. Maybe it was Fred’s experience with fires and rescues and other life-threatening situations, but he didn’t back down one bit under Bradford’s narrowed, condescending stare. The exact opposite, in fact. His solid strength made Bradford seem almost inconsequential.

Maybe Bradford realized it, because his lips tightened. “I hope you don’t think anything’s going to come of this,” he told Fred, his lip curling in disdain. “I think I can speak for Kessler when I say—”

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