Set the Night on Fire (7 page)

He sat back and pushed up the sleeves of his shirt. A man of action, ready to dig in and get to work. She stared at his newly exposed forearms, at his golden hair and a scattering of freckles, the thick wristband of his platinum-rimmed watch. Then she made herself look at his hands. Felt them pushing her down against the mangy sheepskin cloth that covered his passenger seat. Felt it physically, as if it was happening right that moment instead of thirteen years ago.

She jumped to her feet. “I’ll…” She cleared her throat. “I’ll let you know what I decide.”

Surprise flashed across his square-cut face. That was some satisfaction, anyway. Obviously he thought she’d follow the script he’d provided.

“Don’t wait too long, little Evie. I have a few other ways I can go.”

Turning on her heel, she walked out of the inn with as much dignity as she could manage. As soon as she reached the lobby, she ran.

O
utside
, she filled her lungs with crisp night air. Sean was somewhere in the parking lot waiting for her to come out, but she couldn’t face him yet. She felt too humiliated, too small. Instead, she headed down the wide steps that led to a terrace with a view of the ocean. Even though a brisk wind came off the ocean, a few hardy guests sat drinking their after-dinner coffee at the ironwork tables behind the balustrades.

Too many people.

Evie had spent a few days helping Brianna landscape the Seaview’s grounds, so she knew all its secret spots. She veered toward the little-used back road that wound up the hill. It was the quickest way to town, and she’d driven up it with truckloads of mulch for Brianna. There was a spot she remembered…yes, there it was. A path that meandered out to a breathtaking overlook. Brianna had created a bed of moss there and installed a little loveseat shaped like a toadstool—a fairy tale touch for the honeymoon crowd.

And right now, for the disgusted single crowd.

Evie slipped off her shoes and dug her feet into the soft, spongy padding of moss, which felt cool and slightly moist. She needed to feel something
real
. She wanted to feast her eyes on beauty, on the moon lighting a path across the ocean. If she could dive off this spot, into that dark water, and surface as a moonlit mermaid, that would be perfect. She’d never have to face Brad again, or the business coalition. People could say what they wanted about her, and since she’d be gone, it wouldn’t matter.

She buried her face in her hands and let out a long, shaky whoosh of air. Her entire body felt slimy. Brad hadn’t touched her once, but still she felt his scent on her, his gaze, his presence. The way you might feel if you walked through cobwebs and got them stuck in your hair. She wriggled her entire body, hoping to get rid of the sensation. It actually helped, so she worked her shoulders, jumped from one foot to the other, then pogo-sticked up and down.

On the last jump, she landed a little askew and realized someone was standing about three feet away, someone tall and broad-shouldered. She let out a surprised yelp.

“It’s just me,” the man said quickly.

Sean. Of course. Now that her eyes were adjusting to the shadows in the overlook, she could make out his solid, powerful frame. And of course she’d recognize his deep molasses-gravel voice anywhere. “Hi.”

“I saw you come out of the restaurant. I wanted to make sure you were okay. Then you came here and started performing some kind of weird moonlight ritual dance.”

She laughed. “It’s called the get-that-man-out-of-my-hair dance.”

He stepped closer, frowning. Moonlight slid across his wide shoulders. “Did he do something? Do I need to get my left jab warmed up again?”

“God no. Please, that’s all I need. Do you promise not to go caveman on me?”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a rueful smile. “I’m not seventeen anymore. I can control myself.”

Those words, in his sexy voice, inspired all kinds of flutters inside her. Which was amazing, considering how queasy she’d been just a few moments ago. Sean really…just really did something to her, she realized with a sense of wonder. He made her feel safe and strong and sexy. Three things she wasn’t used to feeling at all.

“Brad said he’s calling my bluff,” she blurted. “He thinks I’ll never say anything about that night. I never have, not to anyone. I didn’t tell my parents, I didn’t tell my friends. I kept thinking, it wasn’t so bad. He didn’t…rape me or anything. Not exactly.” She lowered her voice for that last part. It felt so shocking to even say the word aloud. Not even Sean knew the entire story.

“I know he traumatized you,” Sean said gently. “I can vouch for that. You were shaking so hard you could barely walk or talk. I had to help you inside.”

He’d been so kind to her that night. Rough, intimidating, notorious Sean Marcus had gently lifted her from the Chevy and set her on her feet. She could still remember how she’d dug her nails into the muscles of his forearm as they moved down the sidewalk. That must have hurt so much, but he hadn’t even winced.

“I let you down, Sean. I should have told the police why you punched Brad. I should have stood up for you. You stopped him from doing something worse, and then I just let you take the rap for the whole thing. I’m so sorry.” She looked at the moss under her feet, feeling overwhelmed with shame. “I kept thinking how upset everyone was going to be, and how my mother would cry and my father would be so disappointed in me. McGraws don’t get into situations like that. They just don’t.” She attempted a smile. “When I first saw you at the council meeting, I thought you might hate me. I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

He took another step closer. She caught the scent of wood smoke that always seemed to follow him. So different from Brad’s pricy aftershave. “Are you picking up a ‘hate’ vibe from me?”

Excitement welled within her, as it always did around him. “Not really, no.”

“That’s good. You were a fourteen-year-old kid and you’d just gone through something shocking. I didn’t blame you for any of it. I blame the asshole who was in the car with you. And at dinner with you. That guy. I do blame him.”

He was so solid and sure, so fearless, his feet braced on the path as if Brianna had planted him along with the hydrangeas and rosebushes. His strength shone from every pore of his body. Being with him filled her with courage.

“You know something? I should have ditched Brad and had dinner with you instead.”

“Of course you should have. As it happens, I still haven’t eaten. I was on a stakeout tonight. Without the steak.”

She laughed. “I would have brought you a doggy bag but I barely even remembered my purse.”

“Want to go grab something in town?”

The thought of walking into another of Jupiter Point’s gossipy restaurants made her heart sink. She could imagine what everyone would be saying the next day.
Is Evie McGraw double-booking dates now? Did you hear, first Brad White, then Sean Marcus?

But the thought of spending more time with Sean, yes, that part she definitely liked. “I have a better idea. I remember you used to love my mom’s mac and cheese.”

Even in the moonlight, she caught the flash of his grin. “Your mom’s mac and cheese was incredible. It was the best thing I ever tasted in my life. I’ve actually told stories about it during campouts. She had a secret recipe that she never told anyone.”

“Yeah, well, I’m her daughter. Who else is she going to tell? I have it written down in three places
and
stored on my computer. Not only that, but I happen to have some already made, just sitting in my fridge.”

“Then what are we doing here with all this moonlight and flowers and shit? Mac and cheese, now you’re talking. Let’s go, lady. Don’t you know firemen are always hungry?”

A well of laughter bubbled inside her. Sean had a way of making her smile no matter what the situation. He made her feel light and safe and ready to take on the world.

It wasn’t until she was driving down the hill that it really sank in. He was going to be inside her house.
With her
. Being all sexy and irresistible.

S
ean followed
Evie’s little white Jetta down the hill to a Craftsman-style bungalow not far from the McGraw home. Evie had him tied up in knots. First that out-of-left-field kiss had blown him away. Then her moonlight apology had just about ripped his heart out. And now she’d invited him into her home.

Something told him things like this didn’t happen very often. From what he’d seen, Evie had some pretty solid self-protective walls in place. She’d shot down his earlier dinner invitation pretty hard. But he couldn’t help imagining all the things that could happen between them. More of that kissing, for instance. Or the things that came after kissing.

At the base, when he’d made that crack about the cots, she hadn’t gotten offended or kneed him in the balls. But since she’d just come from an encounter with Asshole Brad, it probably hadn’t been the best time to try another kiss.

He vowed to keep his hands to himself now, too, no matter how tempting his attraction to Evie McGraw.

As he followed her up the curving path to her front door, tracking the sway of her hips every step of the way, that vow seemed like the stupidest idea he’d ever had. He tried not to watch as that shapely rear-end twitched back and forth. She’d worn a classic little black dress to her dinner with Brad—nothing overtly sexy. But she exuded sensuality and the hell of it was, she didn’t even seem to know it.

She glanced over her shoulder as she unlocked her front door. The innocent worry in her eyes told him he was the only one with all these naughty thoughts.

“It might be a little messy in there.” She pulled a face. “I don’t have a lot of guests who aren’t friends, and they’re used to me. I’m not home a lot, that’s my only excuse.”

“I’m used to sleeping bags in the woods. I think I can handle it.” He followed her into her living room. She switched on a light and he stopped dead. “Whoa.”

“I warned you.”

It looked as if a washing machine had exploded in her living room. A giant pile of clean laundry filled her couch. He spotted pink thong panties in an erotic tangle with a black bra and averted his eyes.

“Yikes, it’s even worse than I remembered.” She kicked off her black high-heeled sandals and dashed barefoot across the room. She grabbed a throw blanket from an armchair and draped it over the pile. “Just pretend I don’t have a couch.”

“Sure.” He glanced at the rest of the furniture. Random piles of clothes seemed to be a theme. A pair of yoga pants had been tossed over the back of the armchair, along with one balled-up striped sock. “Does Jupiter Point know you’re this messy? No one mentions that when they talk about sweet Evie McGraw.”

“I wish they wouldn’t talk about me at all. I sound like a caricature.” She darted from one armchair to another until she had an armful of sweaters, sports bras, yoga pants and a black leather jacket. She lifted the throw blanket off the clean laundry pile and shoved the new collection of items on top of the others. “I’m always at the gallery or with my mom. I haven’t had a chance to clean up in a while.”

“Hey.” He lifted a hand to stop her explanation. “No judging. Honestly, I’m just surprised. You always look so…put together.”

“Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving.” She made a face at the stack of mail that covered half the coffee table. “I only look cool on the outside. Inside, different story.”

She swept the mail into her arms. A photography magazine slithered out of her grasp and landed splayed open on the hardwood floor. Sean bent to pick it up.

“You probably remember my parents’ house.” He realized that she was nervous. “It was always immaculate. My mother trained me better than this, believe me. When my parents come over, you should see this place. Not a single speck of a mess. But when it’s just me…”

“Evie, relax. I don’t care how messy your place is. My ex used to pile dirty dishes in the bathtub when we ran out of space.”

Oops. That information had slipped out without any forethought whatsoever.

“Ex?” She froze as he handed her the magazine. “Ex-what?”

“Ex-wife, though the wife part only lasted three months. Drunken Vegas mistake,” he added. “We both fixed it as soon as we could, no harm done.”

She still stood staring at him, more magazines and envelopes slipping from her hold. “You were married?”

He had to laugh at her surprise. “Is that really so strange? I know I’m no catch, what with the risky career path and being gone most of the summer, but some girls actually like that. We got divorced about nine years ago. Is…uh…everything okay?”

“Yes.” She nodded, as if trying to convince herself. “Everything’s okay.” Still holding her mail, she walked through a pass-through and turned on a light. Kitchen, he saw, craning his neck. He was just about to follow her when she poked her head back out. “Actually, it’s not okay.”

His gut tightened. “You’re upset because I’m divorced?” Damn, had he just managed to ruin his chances with Evie completely? Some people were conservative about divorce. His own parents had never married, but even so, he’d felt bad about getting divorced. Especially at such a young age.

But he was what he was. No sense in hiding it. “The divorce was the least of it.”

“The least of it?” She withdrew her head, then popped it out again. This time she held a corkscrew poised over a bottle of wine. “Do I need alcohol for this story?”

“There’s plenty of alcohol already in it,” he said drily. “But whatever you need.”

She withdrew her head again, and he heard the sound of a cork popping. Great. He was driving her to drink. Might as well get this over with.

“After I left Jupiter Point, I avoided alcohol. It got me into too much trouble when I was growing up.” He spoke to the now-empty pass-through. “But once a year, I used to get wasted. When I was twenty-one, I got completely blitzed at a strip club in Las Vegas. My buddies bought me a lap dance. That was how I met Mandy. I was so drunk I asked her to marry me during the lap dance. She thought I was cute, I guess, and we ended up drinking some more after her shift and next thing we knew, we were married.”

He heard the glug-glug of wine being poured. Hopefully Evie was pouring it into a glass and not down her throat. An appliance beeped and a delicious, cheesy aroma drifted from the room. His mouth watered.

“Then what happened?” she called.

“We were both equally horrified the next day, but I had a few weeks before I had to report to my first smoke-jumping gig. So we decided to give it a shot. A few months later, we got divorced.”

Evie emerged with two plates piled high with steaming macaroni and cheese. “I gave up on the wine, since you said you don’t usually drink. Could you just clear a space on that little table?”

He followed her gaze to a little round table in the far corner. Since it was overflowing with art books and accordion files, he hadn’t noticed it at first. He pushed aside a laptop, a book on digital photography and a Pez dispenser shaped like a Minion.

She set down the two plates and went back into the kitchen. Sean found two chairs and dragged them to the table. He wondered if it would be rude just to bury his face in the food, silverware be damned. Now that he’d smelled the mouthwatering, familiar mac and cheese aroma, he was ravenous. Evie came back with two forks, but instead of putting them on the table, she gripped them in her fist and gestured with them.

“Here’s why I’m upset, in case you’re wondering.”

“I get it, Evie, I’m not proud of it either—”

“No.” She held up her fist, with the forks sprouting from it like metal-pronged flowers. “It’s not you. I’m upset with myself. You left Jupiter Point and did…life stuff.”

“Life stuff?”

“Marriage, divorce, strippers, drunken nights in Vegas. Whatever came up. You
lived
. Whereas I stayed here in this little pocket of the world and let the time float by. Did I get married? Did I even come close? Do you know how many men I’ve kissed over the last thirteen years?”

That seemed like an extremely dangerous question to try to answer. “At least one,” he said gravely, deciding to stick with facts.

She rolled her eyes. “Before you. Don’t worry, it’s not a trick question. I’ve kissed six men before you. I even slept with one of them. We were really good friends, and I thought that would make it easier. It didn’t work out that way.”

“I’m sorry.” Sean really wasn’t sure how to handle this conversation. She was going somewhere with it, obviously, but discussing her sexual experiences with other men wasn’t all that appealing to him. In fact, he felt…face it, jealous. He had no standing to be jealous of someone else touching Evie, kissing those sensual lips, stroking her silky skin…

Suddenly he wished he had that glass of wine after all.

“It didn’t work out because he was gay,” she said. Then she held up a finger. “Hang on.” She dropped the forks on the table and ran back into the kitchen. She came back with the wine but no glasses. She sat one hip on the arm of the couch and tipped the bottle to her lips.

“Actually, that’s not the only reason why. Also, Brad.”

Sean nodded slowly. So that’s where this was headed. He put out his hand for the bottle and she handed it to him. He took a sip, wondering if he should push her to talk more about that night. He knew the rough outline of what had happened with Brad, but not the details. There was probably much more to her story.

“Something like that can really mess with you. Have you ever talked to anyone about it?”

“Sort of. I kind of said something to my aunt, Suzanne’s mom, but I didn’t use his name. I don’t know if you remember Aunt Desiree, but she’s a lot younger than my parents and worked as a model and seemed to know all about boys. She told me to keep quiet because people would blame me. She said girls always end up with their reputations ruined.”

Sean vaguely remembered a bubbly Betty Boop lookalike—who apparently gave very bad advice.

“What about a counselor, someone like that?”

“No.” She snorted. “You know what Jupiter Point is like. It’s so small, and there are only two therapists in town. Everyone would find out, and my parents would want to know what was wrong with me. I wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret.”

He handed the bottle back to her. “There’s nothing wrong with counseling.”

She took another swallow then wiped a droplet of wine off her bottom lip. He tracked the motion of her little pink tongue. “You’re a big tough fireman. Aren’t you supposed to laugh at the whole concept of needing help?”

He shook his head at her and reclaimed the bottle. Instead of drinking from it, he stashed it behind him. “That’s a load of bull. Want to know why I got drunk in Vegas and nearly messed up my life and Mandy’s?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because it was the anniversary of my parents’ death. I didn’t know how else to deal with it, so I got drunk. After the divorce, I saw a counselor. I’m not embarrassed by that. In the fire service, we see a lot of bad shit. Sometimes you have to talk about it or it’ll take you down. That doesn’t make me less of a man, believe me. If you want proof, I’m happy to provide it.”

She licked her lower lip, chasing a runaway drop of wine.

Okay, that was the last straw. He had to touch her. He reached out and stroked a finger down her smooth cheek. “And I’m pretty sure you’ll still be a sexy, desirable, incredibly gorgeous woman even if you talk to a counselor.”

She tilted her face into his palm. “I could do that, I suppose. Or…”

“Or?”

“We could do something else.” She peered at him from under her eyelashes.

Man, she was buzzed.

His lips twitched, but he held back his laughter. “You’re a lightweight, aren’t you? A few sips of wine and you’re gone.”

“They were really, really long sips,” she pointed out.

“That is true.”

“And I’m not really drunk. For instance, I’m not drunk enough to give you a lap dance and then marry you.”

He ran his thumb across the exquisite arch of her cheekbone. “I get it. I spill my guts and you use my sordid past against me.”

Her eyelids lowered and she practically purred as he caressed her skin. “It’s all part of my master plan.”

“You have a master plan?”

“I do.” Her eyes opened fully, and he lost himself for a moment in their shimmering, silvery-green depths. She was reeling him in, moment by moment. He couldn’t resist her, and wasn’t sure he should try. “My plan is that I’m going to speak up more. How am I ever supposed to get what I want if I never even say it out loud? Brad thinks I’m going to just follow some script written by his press agent. But I’m not going to do that.”

“Good. I support that decision.”

“No, no, that’s not the important part. The important part is me.” She took a step away from him and put a hand over her heart, then trailed it down her body. “This. My sexuality.”

His heart nearly stopped. Just how buzzed was she?

“I am a woman,” she said firmly. “I’m pretty sure that I would like sex if it wasn’t with a secretly gay man. You’re not—”

“No,” he said quickly. “Pretty solid on where I stand on the Kinsey scale.”

“You know what’s the best way I can fight back against Brad and what he did to me?”

Rhetorical question, he assumed, and didn’t answer. He held his breath, captivated by every move she made, every dip of her eyelashes, every quiver of her lips.

“The best way I can fight back is to have sex with you. Hot, passionate, steamy, naked, fabulous sex. With orgasms and everything.”

All the blood left his head and zoomed right for the part of his body in charge of orgasms. Since he was standing right in front of her in snug-fitting jeans, she noticed that fact. He knew she noticed because her gaze dropped to his crotch. His erection noticed that she noticed, and swelled even bigger. It was quite the feedback loop, and his better judgement wasn’t part of it at all.

“So?” All of a sudden, Evie’s chutzpah vanished and she bit her lip, looking vulnerable and almost painfully beautiful. “What do you think about that idea?”

Take it easy, big guy.
He wrestled his libido into submission. He needed to approach this situation carefully. “Couple questions,” he finally managed. “Are you trying to get back at Brad somehow by having sex with me?”