Uncovered. Lori Foster
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chuckles. “Good night, Clair!”
He bounded up the steps to his apartment, but waited at the door, watching as he always did until Clair had time to get inside. She rubbed her bottom as she climbed her own steps, muttering and casting him dirty looks. Moments later, a light came on in her living room, then Clair was at the window, waving to him. Harris waved back.
At first, Clair had objected to his protectiveness. But he’d worn her down until now she did the routine by rote. While he waited, she went in and checked out her place, then waved to let him know she was safely inside. Alone.
One of these days she’d have a boyfriend to look after her. But until then, Harris didn’t mind keeping watch. In fact, he insisted on it.
Within half an hour he was showered and stretched out in bed, his hands folded behind his head. He should have been relaxed, but instead his naked body hummed with tension. He listened to the drubbing of rain on the windows, the continual rumble of thunder, and he watched the strobe effect of the lightning on his ceiling.
Storms always made him horny.
Touching women’s butts made him horny.
Was Clair making him…No. He scoffed at himself, even laughed out loud in the silence of his dark room. That was just nuts. He wouldn’t think about her that way.
Determined to get to sleep, he closed his eyes, metered his breathing—and saw again that flash peek of Clair’s belly and sports bra. He groaned, and gave up the fight, allowing himself to ease into a very vivid dream where he stripped Clair naked, kissed her from head to toe, and loved every minute of it. The dream was both disturbing in its intensity and comforting in the rightness of it.
Sometime during the night, the storm knocked out the electricity. His internal clock woke him to a dark house and street, and the continuation of the storm. Without being able to make coffee or catch the morning news, he headed into work early. And good thing, too, because not five minutes after he dashed through the pouring rain into the station, the fire alarm went off. Lightning had struck the back of an abandoned building and someone saw smoke.
When Harris caught the address of the building, his heart shot into his throat. It was his block—right next door to Clair. Not since his first year as a firefighter had he suffered the debilitating effects of fear, but damn it, he felt them now. Even with the drizzling rain, the high wind could spread a fire quickly. Without electricity, Clair might sleep late, unaware of the danger. Worry plagued Harris all the way to the location.
But the moment the fire engine blared onto the street, Harris saw the crowd. Umbrellas formed a large canopy around the area, as if everyone had crawled from their beds and braved the weather for a show. Clair still looked sleep-rumpled under her cheery red umbrella, but she was fully dressed and in charge of things. In typical Clair mode, she urged curious onlookers farther away from possible harm. Harris was so relieved to see her he nearly fell off the truck. But knowing she was safe, he put her from his mind to do the job he’d been trained to do.
The storm was a real bother. Even through his Bunker Gear of fire-retardant jacket and trousers, helmet, and pull-on boots, he got soaked. The fire hadn’t done too much damage yet, mostly to the exterior rear wall where the lightning had hit.
The abandoned structure had been up for lease for over six weeks and wasn’t in the best of shape anyway. There were already broken windows in back and debris everywhere. In the process of putting out the blaze, a forgotten metal Dumpster in the back alley got knocked over. It was packed full, but luckily, not with the type of trash that got more disgusting with time. Mostly papers, probably from the previous businessman. In less than an hour, they had everything taken care of. The rain had let up and the sun even struggled to shine through the gray clouds.
Harris pulled off his helmet, wiping soot and rain and sweat off his face. He was contemplating all the mess, both from the spilled trash and the damage of the fire, when Ethan, a fellow firefighter and one of his best friends, let out a whistle. Harris turned, saw Ethan riffling through a shoebox from the Dumpster, and raised a brow. Usually that absorbed expression on Ethan’s face was reserved for his wife, Rosie. Harris went to investigate.
“Whatcha got?”
Without looking up, Ethan said, “Pictures of a naked woman.”
“No shit?” Harris forgot his fatigue for the moment and muscled his way next to Ethan. Yep, sure enough, that was an unclothed female. A very sexy, naked female. “Wow.”
Harris picked up one photo of her reclining facedown on a twin bed. Her mussed hair was long enough to hide her face, but who cared when she had a beautifully bare backside on display? Harris tried, but he couldn’t look away.
“Check out this one.” Ethan handed him another.
The same woman, judging by the shape of her body, was stepping into the tub. Again, she had her face averted as she moved the shower curtain aside, but this shot showed her entire body in profile. Breasts, belly, long sleek thighs. Harris let out a slow breath. “Hello sweetheart.”
“Wonder if she lives around here,” Ethan commented. “Or maybe she was the last one to lease the building.”
“The last person here was a guy. I never met him, but I saw him occasionally.” Harris peered toward the shoebox Ethan held. “Any more pictures in there?”
“One more—of her pulling on her panties.” Ethan laughed. “You still can’t see her face, but it’s a damn fine rear shot.”
Feeling strangely territorial, though he didn’t know why, Harris snatched the photo away from Ethan. “Let me have that.”
“Hey, I was going to keep it.”
“No way. You’d just show it to Buck and Riley.”
Ethan raised both brows. “So? How come you get to look and we don’t?”
“You must’ve forgotten, but you and Riley are married now.”
“I’m still swimming in marital bliss, so how could I forget?” He grinned as he said that.
“Then think what Rosie will do,” Harris murmured while studying the photo with rising heat, “if she catches you ogling some strange naked woman.”
Looking much struck, Ethan said, “She’d probably kill me. Here.” He shoved the entire shoebox into Harris’s arms. “There are notes and such, too. Maybe an address, since you’re so interested. And so single.”
Wincing, Harris said, “Don’t tell me you’ve taken up the campaign to get me hitched, too?”
“No, I like women too much for that.”
“Ha ha.”
“But Rosie wants you and Buck both married so I can’t be around any of your single female friends.” With a lot of satisfaction, Ethan added, “She’s a jealous little thing.”
“She trusts you.”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t trust the women you two date.” Ethan strode away, giving orders as he went.
Harris didn’t bother to reply to that jab. Buck might still be going strong, but Harris hadn’t dated anyone lately. Rosie could rest easy on that score.
Now the woman in the picture…If he could look her up he just might be interested. Strolling over to lounge against the back wall of the alley, Harris held his helmet under his arm and rummaged through the shoebox. Unfortunately, he didn’t find any addresses, but he pulled out one folded sheet of paper. Confusion reigned around him, but he gave all his attention to the feminine script on the note.
I’m sorry for just leaving a note. I know you wanted me to call, but there’s no point. You’d just try to convince me to go with you, but it’s over. It’s not you, so please don’t think of this as an insult. You knew how I felt all along.
I’m hung up on Harris.
Harris’s eyes widened. Talk about coincidences.