Can't Help Falling In Love

It was a smelly, slippery, icky mess. Skyler debated between throwing herself into the middle as the voice of reason, or remaining safely in the booth and laughing her fanny off.

“Anybody who smashes a glass gets arrested,” Gus shouted into the confusion.

Jack disappeared behind the bar for a few minutes, then returned with a mop and a bucket. He stood silently next to a stool, cheese dripping off his head, as if waiting for the melee to die down so he could deal with the mess.

She’d known the man less than a week. How could he cause such a roller coaster of pride and hilarity to race through her?

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” a familiar voice asked from the doorway.

Flinching, Skyler turned to face her brother.

THE VIEW FROM the Baxter City Jail wasn’t bad, Jack reflected.

The simple, tidy room contained just two battered oak desks—one manned by a bored-looking sergeant—a few vending machines and two cells. Other than the recent addition of a hall leading to some new offices, Jack didn’t have much trouble picturing the place occupied by Sheriff Taylor and Barney Fife of Mayberry.

Skyler paced the floor in front of him, her breasts bobbing with the movement, her worn jeans hugging her hips and thighs. Full of guilt, he wondered how much her eye hurt and if they could pick up at the kiss where they left off.

Of course they were on opposite sides of the bars, so that might be a bit difficult to accomplish at the moment.

“Don’t worry, Jack. I’ll get you out of there,” she said, holding a fresh ice pack to her eye as she turned, then started across the front of the cell again. “Gus is talking to Wes now. He’ll explain how you were trying to help.”

Jack clenched the bars in frustration. Trying to help didn’t seem like much comfort at the moment.

The fighting had ended amicably enough. At the appearance of the police, fighters and patrons alike had blinked innocently, dropped their chicken wings and chips and picked up their drinks as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Lieutenant Wesley Kimball had strolled in with calm authority, received a rundown of the events from a grateful Gus, then proceeded to take down the names of the ones who’d wrecked the bar owner’s property. Gus agreed not to press charges as long as the fighters cleaned up and paid for the food. Wes had even acknowledged Jack’s assistance in controlling the situation.

Until he noticed his precious baby sister’s swollen eye.

Then Jack and everyone else had been taken straight to jail—do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

“This is all your fault, man,” Mike, one of his fellow detainees, said grumpily.

Jack turned to stare at the man who’d brandished a bowl of beer nuts at him less than an hour ago. “My fault?”

“Yeah.” Mike’s jaw jutted forward. “You had to break up a perfectly good brawl.”

“Oh, shut up,” Flash said. “This is your fault. If you hadn’t thrown those nachos—”

“Pipe down in there,” the desk sergeant called from the other side of the room.

Flash and Mike turned their backs to one another.

Skyler laid her hands over Jack’s through the bars. “They can’t hold you if Gus doesn’t press charges, right?”

Her bright blue eyes were so liquid with worry he didn’t want to tell her the truth. At the very least, the police could charge any and all of them with disturbing the peace, destruction of property, attempted assault, actual assault, criminal mischief, etcetera, etcetera. And, frankly, he was more concerned that her brother was, right at this moment, plotting to pin everything from J.F.K.’s assassination to MonicaGate on him.

He stroked her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Everything will work out,” he said without much confidence.

“I’d back off, if I were you, Tesson,” Wes called from down the hall. “Going near my sister was what got you into this mess in the first place.”

Jack bit back his reply as Wes Kimball sauntered toward the cells, Gus trailing in his wake.

Skyler ran toward him. “You let Jack out of there right now, Wesley. This is outrageous! He tried to stop the fight.”

Wes smiled down at her, patting her on the head as he walked by.

Jack didn’t think dismissing Skyler was such a wise move—or was going to be quite so easy.

Skyler threw her ice pack on the floor and charged after him. With her red, swollen eye and I’ve-had-it-up-to-here expression, it looked as though the next casualty in this war would be Wes Kimball. “I’m warning you,” she said.

“Not now, Sky,” he said, his blue eyes, so like his sister’s, radiated anger as he stared at Jack. “Toss me those keys, Sergeant.” After unlocking the cell doors, he gestured in the direction he’d just come. “This way, Tesson.”

Rolling his shoulders, Jack walked out of the cell. It was time they had this out. His and Skyler’s relationship, if they even had one, was none of Wes’s business, but he’d dealt with hotheaded cops before and knew arguing would only egg him on. Jack intended to keep a hold on his already strained temper and show this jerk a thing or two about self-control.

His gut clenched as he preceded Wes down the hall, remembering the time his parents had been arrested in an animal rights protest, and he’d driven all night to Dallas to bail them out of jail.

They were halfway down the hall when Skyler joined them. “You’re not talking to Jack without me.”

Jack was suddenly reminded this was the woman who’d sacrificed herself for him. She’d instinctively stepped in front of Flash’s punch, telling him more about her strength and loyalty in one brief moment than he suspected most people learned in a lifetime. No one had ever done anything like that for him.

Wes sighed. “Come on, then. It’s time I found out what’s going on between you two anyway.”

Jack stiffened. He wanted to know what was going on, too. No doubt Wes thought he wasn’t good enough for his sister. And Wes certainly wasn’t the first.

They all entered a small, somewhat disorganized office with Wes’s nameplate half-buried beneath a pile of file folders on the desk. Wes indicated the two chairs in front of the desk for Jack and Skyler, while he sank into his swivel office chair. The position of authority. This was his interview.

Jack laid his arms along the armrests. Stay cool. He knew he could do so with Wes in a way he’d never manage with Skyler.

The lieutenant wasted no time getting to the point. “So, what’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing is going on,” Skyler said immediately, though her gaze darted to Jack’s, and he knew she was thinking about the kiss they’d shared on the dance floor.

“You two started a barroom brawl,” Wes said.

“We didn’t start anything. Flash did, and she was only—”

“Ah, yes. Flash.” Wes raised his eyebrows. “The biker chick who claims to be one of your customers.”

Comments like that were a bad idea. Jack knew from experience. But after an hour behind bars, he’d let the lieutenant learn that lesson for himself.

“My customers are none of your business,” Skyler said tightly.

Jack glanced from Skyler to Wes. What about calling him arrogant and egotistical?

Wes sliced his hand through the air. “Whatever. The point is she claims your black eye was intended for Jack. She said he was threatening you.”

Skyler rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. He was not.”

Though Jack appreciated her support, Wes’s eagerness to believe he was really a danger to her pissed him off. He leaned forward. “You really think I’m capable of threatening your sister?”

That suspicious lawman gaze flicked to Jack. “I don’t know you well enough to determine anything about your capabilities.”

At this rate, he never would, either. Wes Kimball had labeled him a troublemaker based on assumptions, guilt by association. Jack swallowed a tide of anger. “But you trust your brother, don’t you? Ben thought I was good enough for this town.”

“This isn’t about the town. It’s about my sister.”

Who I’ll never be good enough for. “I didn’t threaten Skyler. I didn’t start the fight. I didn’t hit anyone. I didn’t destroy any property. Do you have any witnesses who say different?”

“No,” Wes admitted, though he obviously regretted the lack of evidence.

“Then this meeting is over.” Jack rose from the chair, and he didn’t dare look at Skyler. He’d never been arrested over a woman, and he knew one look into her eyes would have him risking much more just to be near her.

Wes stood as well. He was nearly the height and breadth of Jack, but not quite. A difference that certainly didn’t please the lieutenant, who rested his right hand on the butt of the gun strapped to his waist.

“Skyler, I need to talk to Jack alone for a minute.”

“What for?” Skyler asked suspiciously, gazing up at the two men.

“A little man-to-man thing. You understand.” Smiling, Wes gestured toward the door.

“Does it concern me?”

“Yes.”

“Forget it.”

Wes shrugged. “Fine.” He directed his intense blue gaze at Jack. “Stay away from my sister, Tesson.”

Before Jack could do more than tighten his jaw, Skyler leapt to her feet. “Wesley Austin Kimball!” She leaned over the desk, her hands planted firmly in the center. “That’s the rudest—”

“He’s a firefighter, Sky,” Wes interrupted quietly.

Skyler’s gaze darted to Jack, then back to her brother, and Jack had the sinking sensation his job was a bad thing. Usually, women were impressed by his profession. But then she’d suffered a great loss at the hands of fire fighting.

“It’s a brother’s duty to look out for his sister,” Wes continued.

Skyler pressed her lips together. Then, after a penetrating glance in Jack’s direction, she addressed her brother. “You know how much I appreciate your concern, but I can handle this. I don’t need you to protect me from Jack.”

Wes frowned. “You realize if Ben finds out Jack will lose his job.”

Skyler shook her head.

Jack couldn’t help but wonder—did that mean he wouldn’t lose his job, or Ben wouldn’t find out, or there wouldn’t be anything to find out?

“Jack and I will work this out,” she said firmly to Wes. “I don’t want your interference.”

Wes continued to scowl and look puzzled as if Skyler spoke a foreign language, and Jack grinned. Confidence surged through him. If he’d ever had doubts Skyler was worth any risk, he shoved them aside.

Until she strode from the room.

“And don’t think I don’t know about that frat boy with the roses!” Wes called after her.

Skyler slammed the door.

Well, hell. The lady might be interested, but, clearly, he still had a long way to go.

Wes dropped back into his chair and propped his feet on his desk. “Well, ‘Wild Jack’ Tesson, I ran a make on you, you know.”

Wishing he didn’t so completely miss Skyler’s presence, Jack raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

Wes held up his hands. “All part of the background check when you applied for your job.” He paused. “You seem to have a tendency toward barroom brawls.”

“I don’t have any arrests on my record.”

Wes shrugged. “I asked around.”

And heard a lot of stories about his out-there parents and his own wild early years. “I was a bouncer in my grandparents’ bar. I broke up fights. I didn’t start them.”

“Just like tonight.”

Jack was through pretending to be easygoing. And he was through humoring Wes Kimball. He could understand the guy’s need to protect his sister, but not at his expense. Saying nothing, he walked to the door. As he turned the knob, Wes called his name.

He glanced over his shoulder.

Wes held up the arrest report. “Tell you what, Jack ole boy, you stay away from my sister, and I’ll rip this in half.”

Jack wasn’t too worried about being prosecuted, but he guessed Wes could hand his report over to the town council, who’d be less than thrilled to have their newest employee in trouble with the law. But after that kiss with Skyler, feeling the heat they generated, seeing the resolve in her eyes made him realize he had no intention of giving up on her. This little pissing contest between him and Wes wouldn’t discourage him.

Their relationship couldn’t last, he supposed. He’d be off to Atlanta soon, maybe even before she realized he wasn’t good enough for her.

But he had no intention of revealing any of that to Wes. He opened the door. “Keep your report. I’d rather have Skyler.”

“WHY IS MY LUCK so rotten, Monica?”

Checking the fit of her black satin bustier, panties, garter belt, stockings and four-inch, rhinestone-studded shoes in the wall of mirrors, the statuesque redhead sighed. “Skyler, honey, having to spend endless hours planning the Fourth of July celebration with Jack Tesson is good luck, not bad.”

“Humph. The last time I was with him I got punched in the eye, and he got arrested. What does everyone see in him anyway?” Skyler asked as if she hadn’t spent endless hours fantasizing about the luscious firefighter herself.

He’d caught her when she’d fainted, stood up to an entire bar of hostile people, he’d stood up to her brother. All to his detriment. No doubt Wes hadn’t listened to her request that he butt out of her relationship with Jack and had conspired with the mayor to give him the Fourth of July duty as punishment.

The whole mess had Skyler aroused, irritable and guilt-laden. The only positive thing that had happened over the past few days was the swelling around her eye had finally gone down, and she’d reaffirmed her resolve that interest in Jack was completely counterproductive. He was a firefighter. Dangerous and heroic. And leaving. Even Wes—who could be extremely hardheaded—recognized the mismatch. She, Ms. Paranoid Over Her Brothers’ Risky Professions, hot for a firefighter? Absurd. Ridiculous. Out of the question.

“He’s gorgeous, sexy and charming,” Monica said. “And that accent…whew.”

Okay, so maybe the entire female population of Baxter, plus Roland, had excellent taste, but Skyler fully intended to pretend otherwise. “Don’t let Wes hear you say that. He and Jack nearly came to blows the other night.” Wes and Monica had been dating for weeks—a record for her brother—and Skyler had hopes she’d finally have another woman in their testosterone-in-surplus family.

“They nearly came to blows over you. Isn’t that terrific?”

Skyler tugged the lace trim into place, then rose. “No.”

“I’d love to have two men fighting over me.”

“One of them was my brother,” Skyler reminded her friend, though she wouldn’t want two men fighting over her under any circumstance.

“Yeah, well, your brother certainly isn’t that passionate about defending me.”

“Of course he is. He’s crazy about you.”

“I’m not so sure.” Monica stepped onto the raised platform positioned in the center of the large dressing room. The track lighting enhanced her curvy figure and pale skin. She cocked her hip and smiled. “But this will help.”

Skyler walked around Monica, eyeing the fit of the racy lingerie with a critical eye. In the pink-and-gold decorated back room—her bold nod to whorehouse-chic—they had complete privacy to conduct the risqué business of the shop. Fiona had the day off, and Skyler had installed the new warning bell so she wouldn’t have to lock the door in the middle of the day.

“It’s not too tight around the bust?” Skyler asked.

“No, it’s perfect.”

Finally, Skyler smiled. “It certainly is. Wes is going to flip when he sees you in that.”

“I hope so,” Monica said, but she didn’t sound too certain.

“Chaud, chère,” a familiar male voice called from behind them.

Gasping, Skyler whirled.

“Hot, hot, hot,” Jack Tesson said, strolling boldly into the room.

Skyler blinked, hardly able to believe her eyes. The man had the worst timing of anyone on the planet. And why hadn’t her door alarm gone off?

Some inner protective instinct finally asserted itself. Move! it yelled. Cover this up quick, or the town council will know your dirty little secret by noon, and you’ll be out on your backside—leather, lace and all.

She grabbed Monica by the arm. “Let me handle this,” she muttered.

“Can I watch?” Monica asked, then laughed.

Skyler didn’t see anything to laugh about. She tugged her friend to a dressing stall, shoving the pink velvet curtain closed.

“Out,” she said, pointing at Jack as he hovered in the doorway.

He leaned one exceptional shoulder against the frame. “Oh, I like the view from here.”

From behind the curtain, Monica giggled.

Skyler seethed.

Jack held up his hand. “I’m leaving.” He backed from the room, pulling the door, though before the latch clicked shut, he stuck his head back inside. “I’m just dyin’ to find out about this special order, ’tite ange.” The door shut.

“Ooohhh.” Skyler stamped her foot. “That man! My life was perfectly normal until he got here.”

Monica shoved the curtain aside. “Your life wasn’t normal, babe, it was boring. There’s a difference.”

Staring at the door, Skyler bit her lip. What did he think? What would he say? Was there any possibility of bluffing her way out of this disaster?

“Well, go on,” Monica said as she pulled her clothes on over the merry widow. “I’ll go out the back while you handle him.” She grinned. “And I know just which parts of him I’d handle.”

“I need a plan, not sex.”

Monica just blinked.

“Even if I did want, think about, or ever consider sex with a man like him”—whose idea of work is battling through fire-engulfed houses, combating floods and contagious diseases and probably leaping over tall buildings in a single bound— “I’d have to sneak around my brothers to do it.”

Monica danced on one foot as she slipped off one four-inch stiletto heel. “So? You sneak around them anyway with the lingerie.” Shoving the shoes in her purse, she slid her feet into sandals—with only a three-inch heel. “Besides, I’m hoping to have one brother completely occupied—at least the moment he gets back from the law enforcement convention.”

Skyler started for the door. “That just leaves two.”

In the hall, leaning against the wall, lounged Jack Tesson, looking as if he planned to hang out all day.

Avoiding him, Skyler let Monica out the back door, then, stalling further in the desperate hope a brilliant explanation would occur to her, she locked the front door and flipped over the Closed sign. By the time she reached the counter, her hands had stopped shaking, and she was pretty sure her voice would sound normal. Bluff, bluff, then lie and bluff some more seemed the most prudent escape. She couldn’t lose her shop.

Jack had moved to sit on the counter, his long legs dangling just inches off the floor. “You got some great merchandise, chère.” He grinned. “Any more of those black things…” his gaze traveled the length of her “…in a bit smaller size?”

Heat stole through her body. The shaking started again, this time in her stomach. “Uh, no. A one-time-only order for a friend.”

“Right. What about the fancy dressin’ room?”

“It came with the building.”

“Come on, chère. I saw the boxes. Had to be at least four of ’em shoved against the wall.” He lifted one black eyebrow. “Bud’s Leather Palace? Lickable Lacies?”

Leather and edible underwear. Skyler let her head drop back. She was caught.

4

“YOU GOT A little business goin’ on the side, chère?” Jack grinned like the scoundrel Skyler had no doubt he was. “Don’t bother me. A little shadiness develops character. My grand-père sure didn’t get through Prohibition by sellin’ Coca-Cola.”

Skyler planted her hands on her hips. “There is absolutely nothing shady about my business.”

He winked. “Right.”

She crossed to the front door, eyeing the new “alarm” with disgust. She’d only been half paying attention as she installed the blasted thing the night before, since she’d been focused on listening to the emergency scanner to keep tabs on her brothers’ calls. “If you have to know the story behind my shop, the town council wouldn’t give me a business license for lingerie, so I decided to expand my inventory. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Jack slid off the counter, then he walked toward her. “But I’m thinkin’ you didn’t tell the council you were…expandin’ your inventory.”

Determined to avoid the laughing challenge in his whiskey-colored eyes, Skyler ignored his insinuation and experimentally opened the door. Ding-dong sang the chimes. She sighed in disgust.

Jack leaned down and laid his finger beneath her chin, lifting her face. “Does the council know about your little back room?”

She bit her lip. “No.”

“Who does know?”

“Other than me and my customers, you mean?”

“Other than them.”

He really did have the most lovely, expressive eyes. Being a big, macho fireman, he probably wouldn’t appreciate that comment, though, so she kept the thought to herself. If she pouted and batted her eyes, as she’d seen Monica do a million times to get a man’s attention, would he forget all this shop business and kiss her?

“Skyler…” he prompted in a low, determined tone.

“Well, uh, let me think.” She pretended to ponder the question. Just how would he use the information he now possessed? He was a hero, so he was honorable. Hadn’t he protected her at the bar? There was no reason to think he’d betray her now. Finally, she said, “You.”

“Me, what?”

“Other than me and my customers, you’re the only person who knows about the back room. In fact, you and Roland are the only men who know.”

A look of startled wonder crossed his face, quickly there, then gone. “Why Roland?”

She grinned, thinking of the black mask, cape and leather thong underwear she’d ordered recently for Roland. He liked to play Zorro. “He’s a customer,” she said simply.

“Why no one else?” he asked.

He meant her family. Monica had asked the same thing many times. But then Monica was bold and sometimes even controversial. Skyler liked peace. “They’d try to talk me out of it, or—”

“Accidentally blabber about it to the town council.”

She also really liked not having to spell out everything to him. Deadbeat Boyfriend #1 had really been slow on the uptake. “Exactly.”

“I’ll keep your secret,” he said, shrugging.

With great effort, Skyler found the presence to close her mouth. A shrug of those massive shoulders, then I’ll keep your secret. Simple as that. No dire warnings. No predictions of trouble. No questions about her profit or debt or sales projections.

He was definitely a man. But he was an exotic new species in her world.

“…expanded inventory?”

Skyler jerked herself from her musings, realizing Jack had asked her a question. “What?”

“Am I that distracting, chère?”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Of course not.”

His gaze danced, but he didn’t call her on the lie. “What would the council do if they found out about your expanded inventory?”

She tried for nonchalance, but was pretty sure she didn’t quite pull it off. “Probably revoke my business license.”

“Imagine. ’Tite ange Skyler, the leader of a town conspiracy.”

She fidgeted. “I’m not…exactly.”

“Don’ be embarrassed, chère. You having a wild side intrigues the hell out of me. It makes me more interested.” He stroked the back of his hand down her cheek. “More attracted.”

Gulp. This not dating dangerous men rule wasn’t looking like such a hot idea. But it wasn’t just her libido or her heart she was worried about. Jack’s career was possibly on the line. Baxter was the perfect opportunity. At least until Atlanta came calling.

Rules were made to be broken, chère. She could practically hear the words glide off Jack’s tongue. The question was—how badly did she want Jack’s tongue gliding over other places? She leaned toward him, drawn to his energy, even drawn to the danger he represented. What her brothers didn’t know…