Can't Help Falling In Love

3

JACK ACTUALLY PAUSED with a beer mug raised in the air, on its way to a customer’s hand. Skyler Kimball swept inside the bar with a quiet hush, but nearly every patron of the place turned to see the newcomer, as if they knew something innocent and pedigreed had invaded their midst.

“Hey, man, do I get the beer, or what?” his customer asked.

Disgusted with himself and the sudden swelling in his jeans, Jack set down the beer, sweeping away the money the customer offered, then stuffing it in the register without even counting the cash. What was she doing here?

From the corner of his eye, he watched her walk somewhat hesitantly toward the bar. Dressed in faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt, she looked sexy, approachable. The jeans hugged her slim thighs and narrow waist, and even under the dim bar lights her blond hair shone like sunlight.

Damn, he wanted her. How could she strip away his resolve to resist her so easily?

Ben wouldn’t fire you for just talking to his sister, whispered the seductive devil serving as his conscience.

Right. He could talk to her. His captain was a by-the-rules kind of guy, he rationalized, and technically only the city council could fire him. Just play it cool, he told himself.

He met her gaze. And the impact of those blue eyes staring into his caused a tremor of need to vibrate clear down to his toes.

He wasn’t cool any longer.

She approached him, angling her head and frowning. The two men in front of him jumped off their barstools, scooting them back with a loud scrape across the wooden floor, each holding out a hand for Skyler to take his seat.

Waving their gesture aside, she asked, “What are you doing here?” in such an accusing, frustrated tone, he had to smile. Could this attraction be a two-way street?

“Have a seat, chère. I had no idea you’d come collecting my drink offer so soon.”

“I’m not here to see you.”

Jealousy kicked him hard in the ribs, and he knew he’d been kidding himself about fighting their attraction. He’d taken plenty of risks before. Why should this one worry him?

She accepted one man’s offer of his stool with a brief thank-you, but continued staring at Jack suspiciously. “You never answered my question.”

Jack forced his gaze away from her glistening pink lips. “Huh?”

“Why are you here?”

“Helping Gus. You?”

“I’m—” She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “I come here all the time,” she said, turning back with a bright smile on her face.

“Uh-huh.” He responded to a couple of shouted orders for refills on drinks, trying to picture Skyler Kimball sidling up to the bar for a whiskey after work. The vision didn’t gel.

Looking nervous, she glanced over her shoulder again.

She was up to something. Something she didn’t want to tell him about. Of course he was a virtual stranger. Why would she tell him? Her business was none of his business.

He stood in front of her, leaning against the bar. Be cool, remember? “So, what’ll you have?”

She set her purse in front of her as her gaze danced down the bar. “A beer, I guess.”

“What kind?”

“Huh?”

I come here all the time. Right. He didn’t mention the slip, but said, “I’ve got Bud, Bud Light, Michelob, and Coors Light on tap. In bottles, there’s—”

She held up her hand. “Whatever you like.”

He drew a Michelob from the tap, placing the cold mug in front of her.

After a brief sip, she smiled. “This is better than the last one I had.”

Momentarily struck stupid by her smile, he didn’t comment. Her parents had named her right. She was an angel who belonged in a pure, cloudless sky. Not being gawked at by a swamp rat, respectable citizen wanna-be like him. But then, there were those non-respectable panties of hers…

He grabbed a towel from beneath the bar and wiped down the wood. When was the last time a woman had affected him so strongly, so quickly? Since…never.

“Are you moonlighting?” she asked after another sip of beer.

“Sort of,” he said, glad to be distracted from his thoughts. “I’m the restless type, I guess.”

“Aren’t you tired after working a twenty-four-hour shift at the firehouse?”

He shrugged. “Nah. We usually sleep uninterrupted through the night. There’s not a lotta action in Baxter.”

“Is that what you want—action?”

Something in her tone brought his head up from his cleaning task. Her eyes reflected an odd combination of wariness and curiosity. “Sure. I jumped at Ben’s offer to come here, ’cause I want to work in a big city station. With Atlanta so close, I figured this was the perfect opportunity. I sure wasn’t gettin’ anywhere at home.”

“In Louisiana?”

“Yeah. A tiny town just outside Lafayette. St. Francis makes Baxter look like a booming metropolis.” He leaned one hip against the bar, smiling as he pictured his grandparents’ white cottage on the banks of a tiny stream, brimming with crawfish in the spring and mosquitoes in the summer. “We didn’t even have a fire station. Me and another guy—who double-dutied as the undertaker and town coroner—covered fire and medical emergencies with volunteers and occasional help from the sheriff.”

She returned his smile. “Baxter used to be like that. My grandfather was the only paid firefighter back then. What about your family?”

“My grandparents still live in St. Francis.” He didn’t mention his parents. Explaining them could take hours. “They own a bar and restaurant.”

Waving her hand at the bar, she said, “That’s why you look so comfortable back there.”

He shook his head. Comfortable wasn’t even a remote possibility around Skyler. The urge to pull her into his arms swept through him. Would she tremble beneath his touch? Would her eyes turn smokey with need? Would she smack the crap out of him?

“Bartender!” a guy shouted from the other end of the bar before Jack could give into the temptation.

“Be right there,” he called back. After one last look into Skyler’s sensual blue eyes, he strode off to fill the order.

By the time he returned, the devil on his shoulder had convinced him he should ask her to dance. One dance. What harm could there be? He was good enough for one dance.

From pretending coolness to jumping into the fire. After over five years, he should be used to it.

Gus approached her at the same time Jack did. “Hello, lovely lady. I’ve never seen you in here before. Name’s Gus. This is my place.”

As Skyler shook Gus’s outstretched hand, a guilty flush colored her cheeks. Again, Jack wondered what had brought her to the bar.

“I’m Skyler Kimball,” she said.

“Kimball, huh?” Gus rubbed his chin, glancing from Skyler to Jack, then back. “Ah, that’s how you know Jack here, right? You must be those Kimball boys’ younger sister.”

Skyler winced. “That’s me. The little sister.”

Rocking back on his heels, Gus nodded. “Great guys. The one who’s a cop…”

“Wes,” Skyler supplied.

“He’s broken up quite a few brawls in here,” Gus continued.

Skyler smiled weakly. “He’s usually around when there’s trouble.”

“One night this crazy guy came after him with a broken beer bottle. Wes never even flinched and had the creep disarmed in seconds. It was incredible.”

“I guess. If you call fourteen stitches incredible.”

Skyler’s gaze dropped to the floor, but Jack had seen the worry in her eyes. After losing her father, he supposed she feared for the rest of her family. She sipped her beer, the haunted look lingering in her eyes. She looked small and alone.

Hadn’t he sworn to serve and protect? Well, no. That was the cops. Hmm. Well, in addition to being a firefighter, he was a medic. He’d sworn to heal.

His gaze bounced from Skyler to the dance floor, then back. What the hell. “Hey, Gus, I promised Skyler a dance. Can you take over for a bit?”

“Sure.” Gus glanced at his watch as he walked around the end of the bar. “My waitress and busboy should be here any minute. You two have fun.”

Jack rounded the bar, then stood just behind Skyler, his hands resting on the back of her barstool. The heat and flowery perfume rising from her skin wound his muscles tighter.

“I never said I’d dance with you,” she said in a low tone.

He leaned close to her ear, tendrils of her blond hair tickling his nose. “Will you dance with me, ’tite ange?”

She turned her head, bringing their faces so close, her breath whispered across his skin. His gaze flicked to her lips. The urge to kiss her kicked through him, but he tamped down the impulse.

“Okay,” she said finally, a little hesitant.

Before she could regret her decision, he captured her hand in his, then led her to the dance floor. The postage-stamp-size area forced them close together, though only four other couples were dancing. He slid his arms around her waist, while she rested her hands on his shoulders, stretching to reach.

“How tall are you anyway?”

“Six-six.” He frowned and noted Skyler frowned as well. Maybe he intimidated her. She was so petite, delicate…untouchable. What the hell was he doing with her?

Dancing. Just dancing.

Yeah, right. Like her cop brother would believe that. A cop brother who came into the bar often.

Jack bit back a groan—of regret and hunger. Skyler felt wonderful, soft and curvy against his body. He longed to run his hands down her backside, pulling her against his erection.

“I haven’t danced in a long time,” she said, her sweet breath caressing him through his cotton T-shirt.

He stared down at her, his gaze riveted by the glistening curve of her lips. “Me either.”

Her eyes turned smokey, needy. That look had followed him into sleep every night for a week. She might be fighting their attraction, but she felt it.

As awareness danced between them, she fixed her gaze on his lips, then licked hers. And he lost his battle with restraint.

Leaning down, he fit his mouth over hers, moving his lips against hers, memorizing the taste and feel of her in case she never let him touch her again. Her lips trembled, then parted, inviting him inside the warmth of her mouth. He slid his tongue against hers, gliding against her heat, her sweetness. As he pulled her closer, her stomach nestled against his erection, and he groaned into her mouth.

Could he work around the brother problem? Could he bury his insecurity about his past? He had no idea, but he wanted Skyler, all her beauty and spunk and curves. Very little else seemed to matter at the moment.

She leaned back, breathing hard, staring at him oddly. “Oh, hell, not again.”

Her eyes dilated. Her MVP? If she fainted again, by damn, he’d drag her to the doctor personally. “Skyler?”

She rested her head against his chest. “Hmm?”

“Are you okay? You’re not going to faint, are you?”

“Not as long as you’re holding me up.”

He was certainly enjoying serving as her prop, but even his libido couldn’t override concern for her medically. “Take easy, deep breaths. Concentrate on stabilizing your heart rate.”

She lifted her head, looking up at him. “Relax. I’m not going to drop at your feet.”

He lifted his eyebrows. She had before.

“Again,” she finished, then grinned.

Relaxing a bit, he stroked her hair back from her face. “You know, chère, about that drink…maybe you could reconsider—”

Her gaze darted over his shoulder, distracting him. He glanced around, but didn’t see any enraged brothers bearing down on him, so he turned back to her.

“Would you excuse me just a moment?” she said before he could continue.

Breaking free of his hold, she strode toward the bar, pulled something from her purse, then crossed to a table occupied by three women who appeared to be the walking definition of “biker chicks.” Though everyone seemed to be wearing leather lately, these tough faces, windblown hair, black motorcycle boots and tattooed arms belonged on the back of a Harley.

His body still vibrating from her kiss, Jack narrowed his eyes, starting after her. What was she up to?

“I’LL CALL YOU next week about your order, Flash,” Skyler said, then glanced back and saw Jack working his way across the bar. Damn, damn, damn. He’d never believe Flash and her “gang” were customers of the shop. What in the world was he doing at a biker bar anyway? Didn’t he know the cops and firefighters all hung out at The Corner Pub in town? And what in heaven’s name had possessed her to kiss him?

“Great. Thanks for finding my wallet and bringin’ it way out here,” Flash said, punching Skyler’s shoulder lightly.

Wincing from the friendly jab, Skyler backed away from the table. “No problem. I—” She couldn’t get the words “come here all the time” past her lips again. “I was glad to do it for such a terrific customer. See ya.” She waggled her fingers, then spun to intercept Jack before he reached them.

Too late, she thought somewhat hysterically as she plowed into his wide chest. She bounced off the hard muscle and would have fallen flat on her butt if he hadn’t grabbed her by the waist. Why did the man have to be so attentive…so “gorgeous and available,” as she’d overheard at least fifty times during the week from the stream of helpful gossips passing through her shop. Only Roland was disappointed in Jack’s attributes. “Straight,” he’d informed her mournfully.

Once she found the courage to look up, her gaze connected with his. Big mistake. Those soulful brown eyes belonged on a child, not a full-grown man. And, heavens, did he have great lips. She wanted them on hers again…and again. Desire trembled through her veins.

“Are you okay, chère?” he asked.

And that accent…whew. “Just super,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t question her further. Their explosive kiss had left her light-headed—which he didn’t have to know about—so her biker customers had come as a welcome distraction. But, as usual, she was now questioning her impulse.

“What was that all about?” he asked, nodding to the women behind her.

Living up to those brash Kimball genes was damn overwhelming sometimes. She shrugged. A girl’s gotta do… “Flash is a customer.”

Jack raised one black eyebrow. “Flash?”

She stepped out of his embrace, crossing her arms over her chest. “The brunette in the middle—the one with the blond streaks in her hair.”

“She’s a customer?” He smirked. “Somehow I don’t picture her seeped in lace and tradition.”

“Maybe she likes lace and tradition.”

Both eyebrows darted up. “I’m sure.”

Ha! She’d found another flaw. The man was quick to judge, dangerous, way too tempting and…leaving. Atlanta was his future. The perfect opportunity. Losing him wasn’t just an irrational fear of his job—it was assured.

Well, she didn’t want to win him anyway.

With her index finger, she poked Jack so hard in the chest he actually stumbled back, though only in surprise. “Look here, you arrogant, judgmental, luscious—”

Walking backward, he grinned. “Luscious?”

Blood red clouded her vision. “You egotistical, daredevil…man!” She drew a deep breath before continuing her tirade. “It’s been a really long week, and I don’t have the time or the inclination to explain to you the finer points of retail sales management, except to say you never…and I mean never prejudge a customer. The woman who walks through my front door wearing ripped blue jeans and a ratty T-shirt may have more money than the queen of England. Flash and her friends have the right to shop anywhere they please, regardless of what any close-minded creep thinks about their purchases!”

Jack’s jaw hardened. “Creep?”

Flash appeared at her side. “Problem, Skyler?”

Skyler spared a brief glance at her customer. “No. This is a personal thing.”

“Right. A problem.” Flash’s dark eyes narrowed. She advanced toward Jack, her gang flanking her. “He may look big, honey, but trust me the girls and I can handle him.”

“No. Really, I can—”

Before Skyler could finish, Flash swung.

Instinctively, Skyler stepped in front of Jack. The fist intended for Jack’s jaw landed squarely against Skyler’s left eye.

“Oh, damn,” she muttered just before she jolted backward against Jack’s chest and passed out cold.

“SKYLER…CAN YOU HEAR ME?” Jack’s voice sounded as if it was echoing down a long tunnel.

Skyler moaned, then blinked. She lay on the floor of the bar, with Jack’s arm cradling her neck. His handsome face loomed over her, along with Flash, her gang and several other people she didn’t recognize.

“Hey, Gus, how about some ice?” Jack suggested.

“Frozen peas are better,” someone said.

Flash shoved the speaker. “Where are we gonna get frozen peas, stupid?”

“Hey, babe,” the guy next to Flash said, his eyes narrowing, “don’t push him.”

Flash grabbed the front of his shirt. “Shut up!”

“Uh—” Skyler began, trying to raise her head, but the pounding around her eye forced her to lie back down.

Jack’s fiercely concerned face and wide chest suddenly blocked her view of the other people, though she could still hear Flash shouting at someone. “I’m gonna carry you to a booth, oui?” Caution darkened his eyes. After her tirade earlier, she could hardly blame him.

She tried to nod, found that hurt, so she mumbled, “Please.”

Held next to Jack’s firm, muscled chest two times in the same day, she marveled. Maybe her luck with men was changing. Right. Punched in the eye and near discovery of her secret. Her luck was changing all right, and not for the better.

Even though proximity to Jack was a bad idea and pain pulsed through her eye, she couldn’t help but inhale the smoky, spicy scent emanating from his skin. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, his muscles bunched, and she let him coddle her. An impulse she’d regret like so many others, no doubt.

When he placed her in the vinyl booth, she sighed with regret.

Gus handed Jack a plastic bag of crushed ice. “Try this.”

Jack laid the cold pack against her face, and she flinched. “Sorry.” He cradled her cheek in his palm. “It’ll help the swelling.”

“Swelling?” Perfect. She might never look in a mirror again. And how in the world was she going to explain this to her brothers?

Across the room several voices rose in volume, but Skyler had her own troubles at the moment, so she pushed aside the distraction. Now that the initial stinging from the ice had passed, the cold had numbed the area enough for her to think straight again.

She had to get out of here. Immediately. Quietly. Just after she gained the sworn silence of everyone in the bar. The black eye she would no doubt have in the morning would be hard enough to explain—maybe she could go for the old “walked into a door” story—but she couldn’t let her brothers find out about Jack’s connection to her injury. He’d get fired, or worse, thinking again of Boyfriend #2—the lake dweller. Glug, glug, glug…

Leaning sideways, she considered her need to protect Jack only briefly—she shouldn’t, couldn’t care—as she peered around his wide shoulders, hoping to spot a back door.

Instead, she saw Flash shove someone. Flanking their leader, her friends planted their fists on their hips. The men across from them leaned forward, their jaws jutted forward. The antagonists began circling each other. The other bar patrons backed away to watch. Money was exchanged.

Central Casting couldn’t have scripted a better rumble.

“I’m taking you to the firehouse,” Jack said. “I have meds and—”

Distracted from the alarming scene across the bar, Skyler blinked up at Jack. Then ground her teeth together from the pain of focusing. “I just want to go home.” The crowd cheered. God only knew what was happening with the fight. “Now.” She scooted by Jack out of the booth.

As she stood, the room spun. “Damn.” She held her arm out to balance herself. She was not going to faint again.

Jack’s strong arm slid around her waist. “Change of plans. You’re goin’ to the emergency room.”

“No.” Wesley and Steve knew—and had dated—nearly every nurse in the hospital. “I have Tylenol at home.”

Crash!

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the bar.

“What in the hell…” Jack began, obviously noticing the rumble for the first time.

“Terrific,” Gus said in disgust just as one of the men tossed a bowl of beer nuts at Flash. She retaliated by pouring a mug of beer over his head.

In one smooth, quick motion, Jack picked up Skyler and deposited her in the booth. “I’ll be right back.”

Before she could so much as blink—and the blinking hurt like hell—he’d started across the room.

What in the world was he doing? Skyler wondered in horror as she watched him stride purposefully into the fray. He’s a hero, remember? A reckless, foolish—

He ducked a handful of pretzels flying through the air, stepped over a puddle of chicken wing sauce, then grabbed the thrower by the front of his shirt, as Skyler stared in fascination. Flash charged toward him on the other side, but Jack merely held her back by grabbing her shoulder.

“Let’s all calm down,” he said.

A couple of guys in the crowd, not liking the interference, tossed nacho chips—cheese included—at Jack. The chips fluttered uselessly at his feet, but the thick, orangy sauce landed with a plop in his hair.

Skyler winced. That stuff was going to be nasty to get out when it dried.

The room fell silent for a second or two, then all hell broke loose.

Beer nuts flew. Chicken bones sailed. Chips crunched beneath boots. Shouts echoed off the walls. People slid through pools of cheese sauce and beer.