Not a Hero Page 8

  The low throbbing didn’t increase. Or maybe she was just too distracted by how close he was. She swallowed. “It’s tender, but nothing horrible.”

  “Has the pain decreased over the last few days—or gotten worse.”

  “It’s less.” Until she’d been knocked into the table.

  “Good enough. There isn’t an x-ray machine in the clinic, but Soldotna has one.”

  “No.”

  He snorted. “How did I guess that was what you’d say? I’d guess at a cracked rib or two, but as long as the pain improves, you’re probably all right. It’s your risk to take.”

  “I’m good with that.” A medical clinic would photograph her ID.

  “All right. Ice will help your ribs, too. Use it.”

  “How do you know so much about broken ribs? From law enforcement?”

  “Actually, I learned basic first aid as a kid, picked up more in the military.” For a second, his eyes looked haunted. Shaking his head, he gave her a faint smile. “Finish cleaning up. I’ll wait in your”—his brows quirked—“living room.”

  Her only room.

  She dearly wanted to get out of her beer-soaked clothes. “All right.”

  After stripping and wiping down, she glanced at the door. Well, stupid, you should have gotten your clothes from the dresser out there first. No way was she re-dressing in the filthy garments.

  Her nightclothes—a loose shirt and sweatpants—hung on a hook beside the shower. After being attacked in bed and being touched by Spyros, she couldn’t stand wearing anything sexy or silky at night. The shirt and sweats were far…safer.

  The attire would be adequate to wear to talk with the police chief.

  After pulling on the sweatpants, she frowned. Her bra was soaked with beer. Oh well. The big police chief wasn’t interested in her that way. And the shirt was loose. He probably wouldn’t notice she had no underwear on.

  In the living area, he was patiently leaning against a wall.

  She settled herself on the long couch. “Now what?”

  He took the armchair next to her. “Tell me what happened with those men tonight.”

  Oh, no. Was she in trouble? “I-I didn’t mean to start a fight.”

  “Julie.” His face softened. “You did nothing wrong. I didn’t see what occurred, but I’d guess one touched you in a private spot, and that’s considered sexual assault. All you did was accidentally spill a drink on him. Unfortunately.”

  “Unfortunately?”

  “As a law officer, I frown on retaliation”—his mouth quirked. “However, it’s not unheard of for a waitress to knock an obnoxious customer right off his chair.”

  “Oh. Wow.” She really should have gotten out more.

  “Next time you think there’ll be a problem, tell Bull. He enjoys throwing assholes out. If he’s in a good mood, he might even open the door first.”

  Good. Grief. It was appalling that she liked the visual of that blond jerk being thrown into the door. “So, I’m not in trouble with the law. And Bull won’t fire me?”

  “Fire you?”

  Why did he have to be so good-looking when he smiled?

  “Didn’t you hear his announcement as we were leaving?”

  “Um, no.”

  “He shouted that any bastard who touches his staff will be tossed out and never allowed inside again.”

  A warm feeling tugged at her. Someone had stuck up for her. Two someones, actually. “I hope his edict won’t affect his business. Although people seemed happy to have a bar in town.”

  “It should quiet down some after tonight. Alaskans like opening nights—of anything. We don’t get much excitement.”

  “Uh-huh. Just bears and bar fights, huh?”

  When he grinned, looking so…so male, competent, and fun, her heart did a slow somersault in her chest. He’d saved her, sent the jerks fleeing, brought her home, and made sure she was all right.

  How did a girl deal with being cared for like this?

  Politely. Try politely, Audrey. “Well, thank you, Chief. For the help. And the ride. And the ice. And…uh…carrying me like Rhe—” Like Rhett with Scarlett? Good God, had she almost said that? She felt her cheeks heat with her chagrin.

  He chuckled, low and deep. Laughter looked good on him, even if she was the cause.

  She slumped against the couch cushions. “This is why I prefer to be a loner. I’m not adept with people.”

  “A loner, hmm?”

  “Yes.” However, she didn’t want to be alone now. Not when her center felt hollow and quaking. Being hurt again… “Usually.”

  She ran a trembling hand through her hair, and his gaze followed the movement. “Uh…would you care for a drink?”

  In that way he had, he studied her. His intent focus resembled how she examined data to puzzle out anomalies.

  “Bears and bar fights,” he said softly. “Quite the adjustment for a little cheechako. You’re still shaken, aren’t you?”

  Without waiting for her answer, he strolled over to the kitchen area. He found the “Welcome-to-Rescue” bottle of wine Dante had gifted her with when she moved in and glasses in the cupboard.

  After pouring them each a glass, he set the bottle on the end table and settled on the couch.

  She blinked, not having expected him to sit beside her. Then again, no intelligent person would prefer the lumpy armchair where a spring was trying to push through the seat cushion.

  But the police chief was close enough that his body heated her side.

  She picked up her glass and took a hearty gulp. “What’s that word you keep calling me—chee-chah-ko?”

  Glass in hand, he leaned back, stretching his legs out. Even sock-clad, his feet were masculine and strong. And sexy. That was just wrong. “Cheechako is what we call a newcomer to Alaska.”

  “Oh.” That wasn’t so bad. At least it didn’t mean clumsy blonde or chronic liar.

  “Is that a New York accent you have?”

  “No, Chic—” She stopped, bit her tongue, and sighed. Way to get tricked into volunteering her city. “Chicago.”

  “A real city girl, then.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Alaska must be terrifying at times.”

  Most of the time, thank you very much. “I manage.” She stared at him. He’d known she was scared and stayed, and now he was actually…conversing. The chief of police had a protective nature, didn’t he?

  “Good to know. Be aware, the lake draws a fair amount of wildlife.”

  “Like bears?” Her voice tried to squeak.

  “Yeah. Hibernation’s ended, so they’re hungry and cranky. Be watchful and give them space.”

  “I intend to give them lots of space.” Bears. Beside her cabin. As uneasiness crept down her spine, she edged closer to him. “You can’t possibly know how alien this place seems.”

  “Actually, I do know.” When she shivered, he put his arm around her shoulders.

  She stiffened. Her entire side was pressed against his very hard, very large male body. Oh God, he had muscles all over. She swallowed and pretended she was comfortable. “How can you know? Dante said your father settled out here over thirty years ago. Mako…was that his name?”

  “My father, hmm?” His arm was heavy, and his fingers traced circles on her upper arm.

  Even though the coals in the woodstove barely glowed, the room seemed excessively toasty.

  “I guess there’s no need to protect him from the law any longer.” His eyes filled with sorrow, and the lines beside his mouth deepened.

  Dante had mentioned Mako died last fall. “I’m sorry, Gabe.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” He shook his head as if to cast off the grief. “Mako rescued me and three other boys from a Los Angeles foster home and brought us here. Stole us, essentially. I was ten.”

  Stole them? Whoa. She stared at him. “Wait, you were from LA and came to Rescue? Talk about culture shock.”

  He huffed a laugh. “Rescue would’ve been easy. Back then, Mako lived w
ay outside of Seward in an isolated dry cabin.”

  “Dry cabin. No plumbing or power. With children? Was he crazy?”

  Chapter Seven

  Gabe looked down at her, seeing her eyes flash with outrage. She had a tender heart, didn’t she?

  Staying until she’d calmed wasn’t the chore he’d thought it would be. Julie was quietly intelligent and sweet. A pleasure to be with.

  “Was Mako crazy? Oh yeah. He was a paranoid survivalist, figuring the end of the world or a war was imminent.”

  “Oh my God.” Turning to face him, she set a hand on his shoulder, and was close enough, one full breast pressed against his side. Her pink lips were slightly open…and looked soft. “Were you boys all right? Did he hurt you?”

  How long had it been since he’d enjoyed a woman—let alone one who worried about him? The combination of sweet and sexy was irresistible.

  Before he’d thought things through, Gabe set down his glass, picked her up, and settled her on his lap.

  Oh, hell, this was a mistake. Her thread-worn T-shirt and sweatpants let him feel every inch of her lush curves.

  The position put her head slightly higher than his. Her eyes were wide and confused as she looked down at him. She might not be a virgin, but he doubted she was very experienced with men.

  “What are you—” She motioned to her position. “Why did you do that?”

  Fuck, he liked honest women. And honest questions.

  “This is more comfortable than looking down at you. Now you get to look down at me.” But his idiotic testosterone was making him stupid. She’d been manhandled and hurt. “Yeah, I like having you on my lap, but I’m not going to put any moves on you, Julie.”

  This was as far as he’d go—now and probably ever. Although damn, she was appealing. Such fair, fair skin. Her big gray eyes were the color of the morning fog.

  And she had worried over what happened to young boys two decades past.

  “Ooookay.” Her voice was uncertain, but she didn’t move. “Did Mako… Was he good to you?”

  “He was.” As much as he could manage. In hindsight, Gabe realized how at a loss the first sergeant had been. “The sarge’d been career military and had managed hundreds of new recruits. Even so, taking on four boys terrified him worse than any battle.”

  The worry in Juliette’s face eased.

  Gabe watched the red coals in the woodstove. “He had no experience of how to parent—or be gentle—but he was fair. Honest. Careful. He taught us everything he knew and raised us to stand on our own two feet. I owe him everything.”

  When he looked up, Julie’s eyes were wet, offering Mako the tears Gabe hadn’t been able to shed.

  Her lips trembled slightly as she smiled. “I’m glad you had him, then.”

  “Yeah.” He reached up, his hand behind her head to pull her down to him—and caught himself. No, dumbass, no sex. Not going to happen.

  She bit her lip, and her fingers curved over his shoulder. A flush turned her cheeks a delicate pink.

  His cock hardened.

  Ah, hell. There was only so much temptation a man could take, and giving in wouldn’t be right.

  “I’d better be going.” He gripped her hips, planning to set her down on the couch.

  * * *

  “No.” Audrey blinked, not believing she’d protested, but she had. She meant it. He was going to leave—and she didn’t want him to.

  Of course, sex wasn’t especially tempting since she couldn’t get off with a man without taking a hand herself. And she was usually too embarrassed to do so.

  But Gabe’s presence made her feel incredibly safe. She didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight. Nightmares were already edging out of the shadowy corners. She could hear the unfamiliar sounds outside the cabin, the ones that always sent her to check door and windows repeatedly.

  If she made love with Gabe—okay, use the blunt terminology—fucked Gabe, maybe he’d spend the night. And even hold her.

  Was having sex with someone in exchange for affection afterward a variation on prostitution?

  She stroked her palm across his chest, disconcerted at the feel of his bunching muscles. “Why don’t you…stay?”

  When he shook his head, humiliation hit her like a blow. He didn’t want her. She’d misread his interest completely—another confirmation of what Craig had said about her social ineptness.

  And yet, heat lurked in Gabe’s eyes, and the color in his darkly tan face had heightened. Beneath her hip, she felt his thick erection. That was interest, right?

  “I don’t think that would be wise, Julie.”

  At the compelling huskiness in his resonant voice, arousal swept over her, leaving her skin overly sensitive in its wake. Even the brush of her own hair against her cheek felt tantalizing.

  She’d gripped his wrists to keep him from setting her away and off his lap. He was strong enough to move her anyway. If he wanted to.

  Her veiled invitation for sex hadn’t worked. What did women do when they wanted to entice a man?

  In movies, women often made the first pass. How? Oh, yes. Gripping the hem of her shirt, she pulled it over her head, leaving herself naked from the waist up.

  For a second she felt incredibly, powerfully sexy.

  The moment died.

  She wasn’t sexy; she was stupid. Oh God, he was going to laugh at her and—

  “Hell, woman.” His jaw went taut, and his hands closed around her waist—not to move her. Instead, his warm, callused palms skimmed up and down her newly bared skin.

  A thrill of awareness heated her blood. What had she unleashed?

  Cupping the back of her head, he drew her down. His lips were firm as he nibbled on her mouth.

  Shocked, she didn’t move.

  With a low sound, he nipped her lower lip, and when she gasped, he took possession. His technique held nothing gentle about it. His kiss was as direct and commanding as he was himself—and she was swept into responding.

  Even as he kissed her, he captured a breast. She startled—and he deepened the kiss, his tongue invading in a seductive, fierce demand.

  As heat swept over her skin, her head swam. Low in her belly, everything was melting.

  His palm on her breast was hard, rough, and the abrasion over her delicate skin sent tingles coursing through her.

  When she moaned, he stilled, then gripped her shoulders and moved her slightly back.

  At his frown, she couldn’t resist running a finger over his dark brows. They were so straight with only the tiniest hint of a curve, as if to say, no pretense, no games. The line between them grew, and he tugged on her hair, making her blink. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

  Had he spoken? “Uh. No.”

  “Fuck,” he said under his breath, before cupping her face gently. His eyes were the blue of the lake at twilight. “Julie, although I’d love to be balls-deep inside you, I don’t want anything more.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t do relationships.” No smile showed in his eyes. “Don’t jump in thinking this is more than a night. Anything between us will be physical only.”

  “Oh, I see.” Her relief at his qualification was edged with illogical disappointment. “That’s fine, really. I don’t want you.”

  His quizzical look made her giggle. “No, I do want you—right now—but I certainly don’t want a relationship or ties or anything.”

  The mesmerizing fan of lines beside his eyes appeared. “Guess I’ve been told.”

  “Just this once. Okay?”

  “Okay.” He put an arm behind her back, one behind her knees and rose with her in his arms.

  “Wait—”

  “Goldilocks, I’m not going to fuck you on this poor excuse for a couch.” He crossed the room, stepped around the curtain hiding the bedroom corner, laid her on the bed, and followed her down. His fingers tangled in her hair as he took her mouth again, kissing her mindless.

  After a while, he moved to lie beside her
. When she made a protesting sound, he ran a finger over her lip. “I’m too heavy for you.” He leaned over and kissed her again.

  Her heart gave a warning squeeze…because, despite his blunt speech and forbidding face, he was more protective than any man she’d ever met. Through the curtain, the lamp in the living room cast a dim glow that sharpened the roughness of his rugged face and darkened the beard shadow along his jaw. She ran her palm along his cheek, feeling the scrape of the stubble.

  He smiled ruefully. “Will it bother you?”

  On the contrary, she was wondering how it would feel in…places. Like between her thighs. Not that he’d do that, but… Her face heated as she realized he was watching her. “Um. No?”

  His eyes lit with laughter in a way she hadn’t seen before. “Let’s check. See if it’s a problem.” He lowered his head and kissed the curve between her neck and shoulder. His velvety lips contrasted with the deliberate scrape of his chin that followed.

  Oh, my God. A disconcerting pleasure sent goosebumps over her skin.

  Without pausing, he moved down. His hand closed over one breast, plumping it, as his thumb circled the nipple. “Such a pretty pink. Like a Sitka rose.”

  He licked around one nipple, then the other, switching back and forth, before his fingers teased each to a jutting peak.

  Hunger pulsed in her bloodstream. Her breasts swelled, and her pussy ached for the same touch. No one had simply…played…with her before, but he looked as if he was enjoying himself. Her protest died.

  He rubbed his cheek lightly over one sensitive nipple, making her gasp at the unexpected rasp, so different from his velvety tongue. When his lips closed over the nub, his mouth was hot and wet. Soothing—yet…not. When he sucked, the rush of exquisite pleasure made her back arch, pushing her breasts upward for more.

  His laugh was a rolling rumble. “You don’t seem to mind beard stubble.” He switched back and forth between her breasts until they were tight and swollen and acutely sensitive to the lightest touch.

  “You are fun, Goldilocks,” he murmured.

  * * *

  Damn, she was beautiful. Somewhat unsure, but delightfully honest. And as responsive as a dream.