Three sexy stories together in one collection, for the first time!

The men are heroes—strong, fearless…

Fireman Ethan Winters ran headlong into a burning building to find Rosie Carrington. Rescue worker Brett Gannon defied the aftershocks of a San Francisco earthquake to prevent Haley Brubaker from entering her collapsing home. And emergency-room doctor Matt Walker braved gale force winds and rising floodwater to rescue scientist Molly Stanton.

And impossible to resist!

For Rosie, the heat in Ethan's eyes was enough to start a three-alarm blaze! As for Haley, being trapped amidst the rubble with Brett meant heightened tension—and heightened passion. And sheltering together from the storm, Molly needed Matt to make love to her. It was the only way for her to know she was still alive…and that she'd stay that way.

Men of Courage
Trapped!
Lori Foster
Buried!
Donna Kauffman
Stranded!
Jill Shalvis

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CONTENTS

TRAPPED! Lori Foster

PRAISE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

EPILOGUE

BURIED! Donna Kauffman

PRAISE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

STRANDED! Jill Shalvis

PRAISE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

EPILOGUE

Trapped!

Lori Foster

Praise for USA TODAY bestselling author

Lori Foster

“Lori Foster delivers the goods.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Lori Foster is a master at creating likable characters and placing them in situations that tug at the heart and set your pulse racing.”

—Romance Reviews Today

Lori Foster first published in January of 1996 and since has sold over thirty books with six different houses, including categories, novellas, online books, special projects and most recently, single titles. Lori’s second book launched the Temptation Blaze miniseries and her twenty-fifth book launched the Temptation Heat series. Lori has brought a sensitivity and sensibility to erotic romances by combining family values and sizzling, yet tender, love. Though Lori enjoys writing, her first priority will always be her family. Her husband and three sons keep her on her toes.

CHAPTER ONE

ETHAN WINTERS jerked awake with a start. His heart slammed into his ribs, his head ached, his eyeballs felt gritty and his mouth tasted like sawdust. Still, despite all that, he realized several things at once.

Most noteworthy was the woman in his bed. Yep, that very shapely slim leg draped over his belly was definitely of the feminine variety, not to mention the small, delicate hand resting over his heart. Ethan looked at that hand, but with his eyes so fried, it didn’t look like any particular woman’s hand. Just a hand. A female hand.

Yeah, okay, so he was in bed with a woman. No big deal. He’d figure that one out soon enough. Since he wore no shoes and no shirt, only slacks that were unsnapped and unzipped—he knew that because he could feel her warm thigh on his skin—it stood to reason that the female was only half-dressed, too. That could mean several things, but likely only meant one thing.

So what? He was thirty years old, single, free to do as he damn well pleased, never mind that he didn’t remember what the hell had pleased him.

With the sun so bright through the window, he realized it had to be midmorning. A quick glance at the clock showed it to be eight-forty. What time had he gotten into bed?

The incessant pounding on his front door, now getting louder, had probably awakened him, not the soft woman clinging to him.

Groaning with the effort, Ethan raised his head off the pillow to look at her. All he could see was a luxurious tangle of silvery-brown hair. She had her nose stuck close to his side, practically in his armpit, and she wore his uniform dress shirt—a shirt that didn’t quite cover the satiny peach panties stretched over a very fine ass.

He didn’t remember giving her his shirt and he sure as hell didn’t remember either of them undressing. He reached for her hair, ready to brush aside the heavy mass so he could at least figure out her identity, when the pounding on his front door started again.

The woman stirred, then stretched awake, arching her body into his, raising her hands high above her head. Ethan stirred, too, despite being horribly hungover and in pain. Whoever was at the door could just damn well wait. He smiled down at the woman, anxious to see her, to have the mystery solved.

She rolled onto her back with a sleepy little moan.

Ethan leaped out of bed so fast his head spun and he nearly dropped to his knees. No. Hell, no.

His shaky legs continued to try to give out on him and his heart shot into his throat, making him dangerously close to barfing. He grabbed the footboard for support, swallowed hard, found his voice and shouted, “What the hell. Rosie!”

The smile faded off her face. Very slowly she peeked open one smoky-blue eye and groaned. “Shut up, Ethan. My head is splitting.”

He sputtered, heard the continued noise at his front door, and nearly panicked. “Get out of my bed.”

The look she sent his way wasn’t nice. Rather than obey, she rolled onto her stomach and nestled into the pillows. “I need coffee.”

Unbound, her hair was glorious, but it wasn’t long enough to cover her rump. Ethan stared.

Oh, God. What to do? Rosie. His Rosie. His longtime friend, a woman he’d grown up with, his ex-best friend’s little sister…

Damn she looked good.

No. No she did not. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out the view of her sprawled in his bed, the sight of her plump bottom turned up for him to see, the long length of those legs. He’d seen her legs before, of course. She wore shorts, even the occasional swimsuit. But he hadn’t seen her legs in his bed. Not once. Not ever.

Surely he hadn’t…Of course he hadn’t. Ethan snorted. What a ridiculous thought. Why, if he’d done anything with Rosie, he’d remember it, and besides, he wouldn’t do anything with Rosie. She was practically like family. Practically. Not quite, but close enough.

Reassured with his own thoughts, he opened his eyes again—but to be safe he didn’t look directly at her. “Stay put.”

Rosie grunted but otherwise didn’t reply.

Ethan slipped out of the bedroom on unsteady legs and pulled the door shut behind him. Whoever loitered at his front door was making a horrid racket and if he woke up all the neighbors, they’d give Ethan fits.

He crossed the living room, jerked the door open and was met with the sight of Riley Moore, Harris Black and Buck Bosworth. Without being invited, they pushed their way in. Ethan cast a quick glance at the hallway, but all was secure. The very last thing he wanted was for the guys to know Rosie had spent the night.

They wouldn’t believe that nothing had happened. Hell, he wouldn’t have believed it. “What do you guys want? As you can see, you’ve interrupted my beauty sleep.”

Harris snickered. “You’d need to hibernate for a whole winter to improve that mug.”

Buck shook his head pityingly. “I knew you were crocked last night, but you must have really fried the old gray matter if you don’t remember our fishing day.”

Fishing. Oh, hell, he didn’t want to fish. Ethan held his splitting head and took two deep breaths. “I’ve gotta pass today. I can barely stay on my feet.”

Riley, the most serious of the three, gave an aggrieved sigh. “I told you last night to quit drinking. I told you to give it up and get over it. But, no, you wouldn’t. So now you have to pay the consequences. Go get dressed. We’re not leaving without you.”

Ethan stiffened. He couldn’t credit Riley’s nerve, bringing up such a touchy subject. They all knew he didn’t want to talk about it. “Go to hell. Me, I’m going back to bed.” He winced at his own statement. Rosie was in his bed.

“Nope.” Riley sat and propped his big feet on the cluttered coffee table, knocking a newspaper and a Chinese food container to the floor. “I’m sick of you feeling sorry for yourself. It’s been well over a year. Enough already.”

Buck and Harris, both silent, both cautious, looked back and forth while following the conversation.

Ethan clenched his teeth. “Drop it, Riley.”

“I will when you do.”

“It’s none of your damn business.” Ethan didn’t mean to shout, and, in fact, immediately regretted it when his brain throbbed in pain and his stomach pitched. He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to convince himself he could physically throw Riley out without puking, when a feminine voice suddenly intruded.

“They’re your friends, Ethan. Of course it’s their business.”

Oh, God.

Riley’s feet hit the floor with a thud. Buck’s and Harris’s chins almost did the same. Ethan groaned. Through his fingers, he looked at Rosie.

Bless the supreme powers that be, she’d had the foresight to at least wrap herself in a sheet. His shirt covered her upper parts and her lower parts were covered by toga-wrapped linen. Her hair was wild, though, her blue eyes heavy, her cheeks still flushed with sleep.

All three men turned to stare at Ethan. Their expressions ranged from censure to appalled fascination to extreme curiosity.

That was all it took.

“Excuse me a minute, will ya?” Hoping to preserve what little dignity he still possessed, Ethan forced himself to walk to the bathroom, slam the door and lock it. He needed privacy for the next fifteen minutes while he worshiped the porcelain god, praying it was a dream, hoping against hope that when he emerged everyone would be gone—especially Rosie—and his brain could stop pulsing long enough to let him catch his breath.

He was hanging on to the toilet, his head spinning, when he heard footsteps outside the door.

“Ethan?”

He sat back on the cold ceramic-tiled floor and propped himself against the side of the tub, eyes closed. Breathing was a chore, thinking more so. He did not want to talk. “Go away, Rosie.”

He expected a sharp comeback, a refusal. Hell, he half expected her to knock the door down. Through the years he’d known her, Rosie had shown a knack for doing just as she damn well pleased without unnecessary consideration for what anyone else thought. She was headstrong, opinionated, independent—and she’d been in his bed.

After a few expectant moments when nothing happened, Ethan tensed with new foreboding. His eyes opened and he stared at the locked door. Rosie hadn’t done anything. Had she actually left when he’d asked her to? Or rather, when he’d rudely ordered her to? Had he hurt her feelings?

Had he had sex with her?

His stomach more unsettled than ever, Ethan pushed himself upright and stuck his head out the bathroom door. He didn’t hear a single sound. “Riley?”

Ten seconds passed, then, “What?” Riley leaned around the hallway, looked Ethan over, and made a disgusted face.

“Did Rosie leave?”

“She’s making breakfast.”

“Oh.” That figured. If he wasn’t so hungover, he’d have remembered that Rosie wasn’t a sensitive girly-girl. In fact, she was pretty damn tough…for a female. So of course he hadn’t hurt her feelings.

He hadn’t slept with her, either.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Ethan mumbled to Riley, who continued to look at him as if he was lower than a worm. “Get your mind out of the gutter, will ya?”

Riley crossed his arms over his chest and flattened his mouth. “She said for you to shower and join us.”

And Rosie being Rosie, she fully expected to be obeyed. “Yeah, all right.”

“She said you have ten minutes.”

Annoyed, Ethan slammed the door. He’d take as long as he damn well pleased, and that was that. Hell, the woman didn’t own him. Just because she’d awakened in his bed didn’t mean she could start thinking about bossing him around.

Course, she always bossed him around. And most of the time he let her. Though she was four years younger, they’d been friends forever, through high school and college. They’d remained close friends through the death of her parents, through his long engagement.

They’d even stayed friends after her brother had run off with his fiancée, leaving him literally stranded at the altar nineteen months ago.

Naked, Ethan stepped beneath a stinging spray of hot water and clenched his teeth against the surge of discomfort that radiated to his limbs. He braced his hands on the tiled wall, dropped his head forward and closed his eyes.

God, if he’d had sex with her, he didn’t know if they could remain friends. Rosie was a marrying kind of woman, not a one-night stand. And he would never consider marriage again.

What the hell had he done?

* * *

“HOW MANY EGGS do you guys want?”

“Two.”

“Three.”

“Rosie,” Riley said with a long, exaggerated sigh, “what’s going on?”

Rosie Carrington glanced over her shoulder at Riley. He was a big man, so she cracked three eggs for him, same as Harris. “I’m just making breakfast, Riley. No big deal.”

“Yeah, right. Just making breakfast—at Ethan’s, dressed in his shirt, probably on the proverbial morning after.”

“You’re too smart to make assumptions, Riley.”

Harris and Buck looked at each other, then snorted. Oh, they’d made plenty of assumptions, all right. Not that she blamed them. It was a rather damning situation.

Riley paid them no mind. “Okay, so what are you doing here? Last I saw Ethan at the party, he was flirting with that sexy redhead and you were fuming mad at him for, as you put it, acting like an ass again.”

Rosie concentrated on not overcooking the eggs. Last night…well, she had been fuming mad. Come to that, she was still a little peeved. Most of the time Ethan was the best man around, easy to respect, easier to love. He was hardworking, levelheaded, conscientious. A firefighter with a moral code bone-deep. True, he’d become something of a hound dog, but a good-natured one nonetheless.

Yet whenever people brought up his ex-fiancée, he went from being a great guy to a shallow, chauvinistic jerk who grabbed the first available woman. Rosie assumed he did that to prove to everyone that he was over his fiancée, that he’d recovered. The opposite was true. It showed that he was still hurting—and that hurt her.

It had been over a year and a half, for crying out loud. She’d had enough. It was time to take matters into her own hands.

Rosie knew the men were uncomfortable to have found her here. If all went as she planned, they’d just have to get used to it. Besides, she was now decently covered—sort of—in a ratty old housecoat that she’d located in Ethan’s closet.

“You’re being evasive, Rosie.”

“Gee, Riley, I’m twenty-six years old. I thought that meant I didn’t have to answer to anyone for my personal life.”

Harris scratched his head, making his black hair more disheveled than ever. “You and Ethan have a personal life?”

She ignored him as she poked a fork at the pound of sizzling bacon in the cast-iron skillet. Four men, all of them big bruisers, needed a lot of food to maintain their energy levels. “You know, I’m amazed you guys planned to go fishing all day without breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day. You shouldn’t skip it.”

The men smirked at that ludicrous comment. As firefighters, Ethan and Harris kept in the peak of health. Their jobs allowed nothing less. Buck owned a lumberyard and physical labor was part of his daily work week. He had muscles on his muscles.

And Riley—Rosie peered at him again. Riley was an evidence technician for the police department. A former member of the SWAT team, he now owned a self-defense studio where he taught sparring, grappling, Jeet Kune Do and Silat knife fighting.

Next to Ethan, Riley was the most intriguing, appealing man she knew. He could break a person in two without effort. But more often than not, he was as gentle as a lamb—especially where women were concerned.

There wasn’t much call for a SWAT team in the small city of Chester, Ohio, thank God, but Riley had only lived here about five years. Before that, he’d evidently suffered some bad times, not that he ever spoke of it much. He tended to be a very quiet man.

Except for now, when he chose to badger Rosie.

“I think we’ll all survive fishing on an empty stomach.” Riley’s voice was dry, teasing.

“Now you won’t have to.”

Harris leaned forward, sniffing the eggs. “This’ll be better than the pork rinds Buck packed.”

Buck shoved him in the shoulder. “I’ll just eat them all myself then.”

“Hey.” Harris acted wounded by Buck’s selfishness. “You know I was just placating Rosie.”

After wrinkling her nose at the lot of them, Rosie began toasting bread. She had half a loaf out and hoped that’d be enough. Ethan wasn’t much on domesticity and therefore didn’t have an abundance of groceries. His apartment was a pigsty, his kitchen a disaster and his cabinets all but empty.

She glanced at the clock. She’d give the big coward two more minutes tops, then she’d drag him out of the shower whether he wanted to face them all or not. If he was still naked and wet—well, she wouldn’t cavil. In fact, the idea appealed to her.

Dragging him out proved unnecessary when not five seconds later Ethan appeared in the doorway. His mellow brown eyes were bloodshot, his blond hair still wet and only finger-combed, his feet bare. He’d pulled on clean jeans and a gray T-shirt, and to Rosie, he looked better than breakfast.

Her heart felt full to bursting. “You okay?”

He sent her a cautious sneer, hooked a chair, yanked it out from the table and dropped heavily into it. “I’ll live, if that’s what you mean.” His mean, red-eyed look moved around the room to encompass each of his friends. “I’m not going fishing today.”

“Of course not.”

“We understand.”

“You’re an ass, Ethan.”

That last was from Riley, of course. He seemed to love provoking Ethan. Rosie shook her head. They’d all known each other forever—with the exception of Riley who was late to the group, but had quickly become a good friend. They lived to give each other a hard time, so presumably, they were letting Ethan off the hook this time because of her. Since she and Ethan needed to talk, she didn’t object.

Without a word, she set a cup of strong black coffee in front of Ethan. He drank half of it, cursed when he burned his tongue, then glared at her. “You’re not my housekeeper or my cook.”

“With the way you live, you couldn’t pay me enough to be either.”

Harris snickered. Buck held his breath.

Riley said, “You are a damn slob. When was the last time you cleaned?”

“What’s it to you, Mom?” He drank the rest of the coffee and Rosie silently refilled his cup. He muttered his grudging thanks.

Riley lounged back in his seat. Because his censure was so obvious, his silence was more annoying than chatter would have been.

Rosie served the men. When she started to take her own seat, Riley stood to pull out her chair. Ethan growled at him, and Riley growled back.

Men. They could be so unaccountably strange. “Dig in, fellas.”

The next few minutes were filled with sounds of appreciation as the men practically inhaled the enormous amount of food she’d set on the table.

In all the time she’d known Ethan, she’d seen him drunk twice—this being the second time.

It amazed her that Ethan could eat such a hardy meal after a hangover. Other than his bloodshot eyes and listlessness, you wouldn’t know he’d been so miserable just half an hour before.

Harris finished first. “Damn, that was good, Rosie.” He patted his flat stomach. “If I come back tonight, will you cook dinner, too?”

Ethan pierced her with a direct stare. Rosie smiled. “Sure, Harris. Come on by my house around six. I planned on making stew today.”

His brows shot up. “Really? I mean, I was kidding, but hell, I’m always up for your stew.”

Buck pushed back his empty plate. “If that sorry sack is invited, then naturally I’m coming, too.”

“I’ll make plenty.” Rosie loved to hang out with the guys. Because she’d had a tendency to tail her older brother wherever he went, she’d grown very close to the lot of them. She had very few female friends, thus the guys had become the sum total of her social circle.

Riley shook his head. “You’re both mooches. But what would one more matter? Count me in.”

Ethan’s chair scraped back across the floor. He snatched up his empty plate, caused an awful clatter as he roughly stacked the rest of the empty dishes, then moved to the sink. He kept his back to them all as he scraped the plates before nearly throwing them in the dishwasher.

The men looked at each other, shrugged, then prepared to leave. One by one they gave Rosie a hug and a hardy thank-you, with Riley choosing to go last.

He tipped up her chin. “I’ll be back by three. You want to come by the gym? Maybe work off some tension?” He gave a meaningful nod of his head toward Ethan’s rigid back.

“I suppose that’d be better than killing anyone, huh?”

Riley laughed. “You’re getting good, sugar, but not that good. Not yet.”

Ethan jerked around. “Just what the hell does that mean?”

Harris and Buck hunkered out, muttering to Riley that they’d meet him in the truck.

Riley crossed his arms over his chest and faced Ethan. “She’s taking lessons.”

With an expression of incredulous disbelief, Ethan looked from Rosie to Riley and back again. “What kind of lessons would those be?”

His tone was so suspicious that Rosie laughed. “Self-defense, mixed with some knife fighting.” She took a stance and chopped the air with a fist. “I’m going to be lethal.”

Rather than appeased, Ethan appeared more livid. “What the hell are you doing that for? Has someone been bothering you?”

She resisted the urge to say you and shook her head. “I just like staying in shape and knowing I can take care of myself. I’m single, remember?”

Ethan’s face turned red and he strangled on his reply.

Pulling the tiger’s tail, Riley said, “Don’t worry, Ethan. I’m real gentle with her.”

Rosie thought Ethan’s eyes might cross. Instead he fumed in silence for nearly a full thirty seconds before stalking out of the room.

“Oh, boy,” Riley rumbled under his breath. He gestured for Rosie to precede him as he headed to the front door. Ethan waited for them there, holding it open, his impatience to be alone with Rosie plain.

Riley walked out into the hallway. “Be good, kids.”

“You know I’m always good. But I can’t make any promises for Ethan.”

He winked at her. “You’ll keep him in line.”

Ethan snapped the door shut, then turned both locks with a dreadful sense of finality. When he faced Rosie, she decided a strategic retreat was in order; he did not look like a happy man.

In fact, he looked very unhappy. Or maybe “riled” was the word. Yeah, he looked downright riled. She supposed Riley’s teasing flirtation hadn’t helped matters.

Ethan was used to Harris and Buck razzing her. After all, they’d all grown up in the same neighborhood. The three of them had been best buds with her brother—until her brother had slipped off with Ethan’s fiancée.

Riley was new to the mix, and while they all liked him a lot, Ethan apparently didn’t take Riley’s teasing the same at all.

She’d made it all the way to the bathroom when Ethan caught her arm. “Rosie.”

There was so much warning in the way he said her name, she kept her back to him. “Hmm?”

His sigh parted the back of her hair. “Don’t play games.” He caught both arms and turned her around. “What were you doing here this morning in my bed?”

“Sleeping?”

His jaw worked, his eyes narrowed. Reaching inside the neckline of the housecoat, Ethan fingered the collar of his shirt. His gaze settled on her mouth. “Why aren’t you wearing your own clothes?”

Very slowly, realization dawned on Rosie. “Oh, my God. You don’t remember, do you?”

An arrested expression crossed his features. His pupils expanded until only a thin ring of light brown remained. His straight, dark brows pulled together. “Just what am I supposed to remember?”

Indignation reared up, followed by humiliation. “Ethan Winters. You have no idea what happened last night, do you?”

He blustered with his own dose of exasperation. “I know damn good and well we didn’t have sex.”

Rosie gasped, not because he was wrong, but because he was so sure that he hadn’t touched her. What was she? Chopped liver? She felt just contrary enough not to reassure him. “Yeah, and how do you know that if you don’t remember?”

Muscles tensed, Ethan let his smoldering gaze take a leisurely trip over her—but he only got as far as her breasts. “You were wearing a shirt. And panties. When I have sex with a woman—” his gaze rose and locked on hers “—she’s buck naked. Not half-dressed.”

Rosie dropped back against the wall with a thud. Her heart had started bouncing around with his first hot look, and his words had nearly brought her to her knees. Oh, she could only imagine what Ethan did when he had sex, but she believed him: the woman wouldn’t be wearing clothes.

She cleared her throat, then had to clear it again when he flattened both hands to the wall on either side of her head. At five-nine she was a tall woman, but Ethan stood six-two and towered over her. He leaned in the smallest bit, probably trying to intimidate her—and doing a good job of it, but not for the reasons that he might assume. She wasn’t afraid of Ethan and she never would be.

But she was extremely aware of him as a man.

She stared at his sternum and gave an irrefutable reminder. “You were drunk. You couldn’t have gotten your own clothes off, much less mine.”

Ethan considered that, then smiled. “True. And being that drunk, I doubt I could have gotten a boner no matter what you did.”

With another gasp, Rosie shoved him hard—with no visible effect. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You must have taken off your clothes, because as you just said, I was too damn drunk to accomplish it on my own.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Not too drunk to flirt with that redhead.”

He stared past her shoulder. After a second, his eyes lightened and the right side of his mouth kicked up. “Yeah, I remember her now. Where’d she go?”

Oh, that was one nasty little shot too many. Rosie stomped on his toes. Given that she was as barefoot as he was, it wasn’t an overly painful move. But he did jerk back, giving her a chance to duck under his arm. She stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door. Hard. She took a lot of satisfaction in clicking the lock into place.

Ethan didn’t beat on the door. He just said, “You have to come out sooner or later.”

She felt like beating on the door. Or on his head. Instead she took two deep breaths to gather her calm. “My clothes are in your laundry room. Your precious redhead dumped her drink on me, so until you run them through the wash, I can’t wear them again. I’d smell like a lush.”

Silence stretched until Ethan finally said, “Oh.”

“Yes, oh.” Inside the bathroom, Rosie stripped off the housecoat and his shirt. “Why don’t you throw them in the washer while I shower?”

“Sure thing.”

She could hear him whistling as he walked away, secure in the knowledge that nothing of a sexual nature had occurred between them.

But he didn’t know that for sure, and no way would she tell him. Let him stew. Let him wonder.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d think about it enough that he’d start to like the idea.

Rosie grinned as she stepped into the shower. She had a plan, and oh, boy, it was going to be fun.

CHAPTER TWO

SHE WALKED INTO the kitchen with his toothbrush sticking out of her mouth.

In the process of shaking out a large plastic garbage bag, Ethan froze. Rosie’s hair was still wet, pushed straight back from her forehead and hanging in long twisted ropes down her back. Over his housecoat.

Which was now the only thing she wore.

Ethan knew that because she leaned into the laundry room and pitched his shirt onto the pile of dirty clothes, then turned and stuck her folded panties into her purse, which was on the counter. With foamy toothpaste dripping down her chin, she headed back for the bathroom.

It took Ethan a moment to get his eyelids to work so he could blink. When he did, he couldn’t help but notice that her behind, without benefit of underwear, jiggled just a little more beneath the terry-cloth robe. He jerked around, grumbling and too warm and feeling somewhat hunted. “Damn irritant.” He shoved an old pizza box into the garbage bag.

Five minutes later Rosie emerged again. She gave him a big toothy smile and said, “I used your toothbrush.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” He would not keep staring at her.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

He started to say, Of course not; after all, they’d been friends a long time, shared drinks, once even an ice-cream cone. He wasn’t worried about her germs.

But she didn’t give him a chance. “I figured after last night, it wouldn’t be any big deal.”

Ethan went rigid. “Nothing happened last night.”

“Did you put my stuff in the wash?” Apparently unconcerned with his emotional turmoil, Rosie pushed in a kitchen chair, closed a cabinet.

Shaking his head to clear it, Ethan said, “Yeah, they should be ready for the dryer in about ten more minutes.” He continued to stuff empty food containers and soup cans, plastic cups, newspapers and junk mail into the bag. He shouldn’t have felt so awkward with Rosie. He never had before—but then, he’d never slept with her before, either.

He glared when he realized that she intended to help him clean. Not only that, but she’d accomplished more in two minutes than he had in ten. Women, he decided, just had a knack for being efficient with housework.

“Leave that stuff. I’ll get it.” He glanced around at the remaining mess and for some stupid reason, felt compelled to explain. “I’ve been on a night shift all week. Had two nasty calls, one right before the banquet. Had to use the Jaws of Life on a guy who got caught in his car. Damn thing was on fire…” At her look of horror, his voice trailed off. He shook his head. “I got behind on stuff, but I planned to clean today anyway, since I have the next four days off.”

“You’re okay?”

Damn it, she didn’t have to sound so anxious. She was a friend, not his keeper, not his sibling, not his wife. “I’m fine.”

For a long moment she didn’t look convinced, then she shrugged. “I don’t mind helping.” She wrung out a dishrag and wiped off the stove. “I’ve got nothing else to do until my clothes are done, then I have to head into the office. I have a house to show today.”

As a real estate agent, her hours varied.

“I don’t want you to help.”

She blinked up at him with fresh-faced provocation. “Why?”

Damn, she looked cute straight from the shower. Rosie had never, in his opinion, needed much makeup. Her skin was fair, framed by silky brown hair that didn’t contain a single hint of red. Her brows were dark, finely arched, her lashes long. Though her eyes were blue, they weren’t an ordinary blue. They looked softer than ordinary blue, sort of smoky and smoldering, and when she got annoyed or excited, they turned stormy gray.

Would they turn gray when she was sexually aroused?

Ethan’s scowl intensified. “Women always think they have certain rights after cleaning a guy’s place.”

“Wow, no kidding?” Her brows rose higher. “That’s like…really profound. Your grasp on womankind is nothing short of astounding.”

She was baiting him, maybe even poking fun at him. “My grasp is astute enough to know you can’t be trusted, that you wait for a reason to screw a guy over or to confuse him so that he screws himself over or—”

Rosie stuck her fingers in her ears and said, “La, la, la, lalalal—”

“Stop that!”

She struck an arrogant, annoyed pose, her hands on her hips. “Then stop spouting nonsense.”

Ethan shook his head at the gesture, until he realized that her stance made the robe gap just a little above and below the belt. It showed a length of her legs—which he’d seen a gazillion times, for crying out loud—and her cleavage, which he knew she had but he hadn’t seen much before now.

Everything male within him went on alert, and he mumbled, “It is not nonsense.”

“Are you talking to me or my boobs?”

Flabbergasted, Ethan jerked his gaze up to her face, saw her smile and wanted to shout with frustration. Ruthlessly he beat his male instincts into submission. “You.”

“Huh. And here I was certain my ears were on my head, not my chest.”

In a ridiculous show of temper, he threw the garbage bag down on the floor. “Damn it, Rosie, what is wrong with you? What are you up to?”

She shrugged, then groaned dramatically. “I need some aspirin.”

Dismissing him, she turned to the cabinet and began riffling around until Ethan said, “Here, I keep them over the stove.” He shook out two white pills and handed them to her. A new thought occurred to him. “You hungover, too?”

She lifted the aspirin off his palm, tossed them into her mouth and bent her head into the sink to grab a drink of water straight from the tap. When she’d finished, she shook her head. “No, of course not.”

He hadn’t thought so. Rosie was never much of a drinker. Come to that, he wasn’t, either, and he was thoroughly disgusted with himself for overindulging last night. “If you’re not suffering from too much drink, then what’s your problem?”

“I just have a headache from lack of sleep, actually.” She sent him a calculated look. “We didn’t get to bed till late.”

His chest constricted. Why hadn’t she gotten enough sleep? She’d been dead-out when he’d awakened.

The washer buzzed and Rosie stepped into the small laundry room off the kitchen to put her clothes in the dryer, giving Ethan a moment to think.

There had to be any number of reasons why she’d been in his bed, other than the most distressing one. Why she didn’t want to tell him, he couldn’t say. Sometimes Rosie could be difficult for no apparent reason.

But he’d get the truth out of her, one way or another.

“Hey, Ethan?”

He stayed in the kitchen, unwilling to test his resolve by getting near her again. “Yeah?”

“Did you mean that I couldn’t be trusted, or women in general?”

Oh, hell, he didn’t want to have this discussion with her. He jammed a carton of sour milk into the bag with more force than was necessary. Just getting the garbage off the countertops and off the floor made his place look much cleaner. Normally it didn’t get so bad, but on top of the lousy week, he’d really been dreading the party last night. For days, cleaning had been the last thing on his mind.

“Is this a tough question, Ethan?”

Knowing she wouldn’t let it go, he gave her the truth. “I meant all women.”

“Really?” The silence was telling. “Including me?” She strolled back in, her eyes a flat gray—not a good sign.

“Rosie, let’s drop this, okay?” Ethan could already tell she was up for an argument. He wasn’t. He needed to know that he hadn’t…touched her. And then he needed more sleep.

“No, it’s not okay.” She crossed her arms under her breasts. “You’ve insulted me.”

He stared at the ceiling so he wouldn’t be tempted to look at her breasts again. “How about if I just apologize?”

“Not if you aren’t sincere.” She sighed, sounding a little defeated. “You know, I fully intended to tell you everything.”

Everything? He gave up his study of the ceiling and met her gaze. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You know.” She flapped a hand. “Why I’m here, what I want, stuff like that.”

What she wanted? Ethan tied the bag shut and set it aside. If she kept this up, his head would explode. “Okay, let’s get this over with. What do you want?”

Her mischievous smile came slowly, accompanied by a twinkle in her eyes. “Oh, you’d like to rush me through this, wouldn’t you? But why? You weren’t in a rush last night.”

He reached for her and she ducked away, laughing. “I still can’t believe you forgot everything from last night.”

Two deep breaths didn’t help Ethan to contain his temper. “There wasn’t much to forget, now was there?”

“There was enough.”

His jaw ached from clenching his teeth. “If that’s true, then you took advantage of my drunken state—which proves what I said. Women can’t be trusted.”

“Some women, maybe.”

“Like a woman who sleeps with a guy she knows is drunk?”

She winced, pretending to be wounded, but her grin told the real story. “Okay, let’s back up. When you spout all that baloney about women not being trustworthy, you make yourself look really pathetic.”

“Is that right?”

“Yep. It shows that Michelle really did a number on you and that you let her.”

Oh, no, no way. He didn’t want to talk about Michelle. He didn’t even want to hear Michelle’s name. Not now, not ever. “Be smart, Rosie, and keep her out of this.”

Of course she didn’t listen to him. She wouldn’t be Rosie if she did. “Why? That’s what this is really all about, isn’t it? You got jilted and you’ve been playing the wounded swain ever since.”

“It’s none of your business. You’re a friend, not my mother, not my confessor.”

“Damn right I’m your friend.”

She put her hands on her hips again, but this time Ethan was too annoyed to admire her cleavage. Rosie’s anger struck him in waves and left him a little awed. He’d only witnessed her fierce temper a handful of times.

“I’ve had enough of you dragging around with your tail between your legs.”

“I don’t.”

“Don’t growl at me, Ethan Winters. What would you call it? You date every single girl within a three-hundred-mile radius—but only once. You make cracks about women all the time—and in case you’ve failed to notice, I’m a woman.”

“I noticed.”

That shut her up, even left her bemused, but only for a moment. Her chin lifted. “Yeah, well, when you belittle half of humanity—”

“The female half. And I don’t belittle them, I just look at them realistically. I see them for how they are.”

She rolled her eyes. “You make yourself look defensive.” Her expression softened. “You make yourself look…well, lovesick.”

The humiliation of being jilted in front of half the town and all his friends and family would be burned on his brain for the rest of his life. It wasn’t the sort of thing that a man just got over.

It wasn’t the sort of thing that Ethan would ever forget.

Rosie took a step closer to him. “Getting drunk and picking up strange women is certainly not the behavior of a hero, a role model for the community.”

Because he didn’t like the way she looked at him, and he especially didn’t like the topic, Ethan backed up. “Screw that. I never asked to be called a hero.”

In fact, part of the reason he’d started drinking last night was the ceremony honoring him. It had been every bit as bad as he’d imagined. He’d felt ridiculous, the center of attention for the first time since the wedding. And he’d felt undeserving.

“Ethan.” Rosie’s tone chastised as she continued to advance, nearly backing him into the pantry. “You’re a firefighter and that’s heroic enough. But you risked your life to save those people.”

He sidestepped away from the pantry and found himself in a corner, next to the stove. “I did what any guy would have done, especially a firefighter. I did my job. That’s all there is to it.”

“In near-zero visibility? Knowing that the house could have collapsed at any moment?”

Ethan dropped his head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling. Three weeks ago when he’d entered the flaming residence, he hadn’t had heroism on his mind. Through the crackle of burning wood and shattering glass, he’d heard people calling, pleading for help. Their voices had been raw from the thick smoke, desperate. Weak. Ethan had simply reacted.

He’d done what he was trained to do.

It hadn’t been easy to carry the man out while dragging the teenage son. Everything was ablaze, the smoke so dense he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. He’d made his way through, inch by inch, but he’d managed, and they’d all lived. He was grateful for that—and embarrassed that so much hoopla had been made about it. He didn’t ever again want to find himself as the focus of a crowd; it always reminded him of that awful wedding day when he’d been left standing alone at the altar.

Yet there he’d been last night, at the damn ceremony, being applauded by the very people who’d looked at him with pity the night his bride had failed to show. He’d been dressed up then, too, and he’d felt just as numb.

The memories assailed him, churning through his blood, ringing in his ears. He breathed hard, nearly panting, but it didn’t help.

God, he was going to puke again.

Rosie touched his chest, gently stroking his right pectoral muscle. Her fingertips grazed his nipple.

It so startled him, the awful memories faded beneath a new emotion. He felt his body stir with sexual awareness.

“I was so proud of you, Ethan, when they gave you the Fire Commission’s Valor Award. But then I’m always proud of you. You risk your life all the time without a second thought. You do what most men won’t do—to help others. You’re always so tall and commanding and direct. And last night you looked so incredibly handsome in your dress uniform.”

Trying to ignore his unwanted arousal, Ethan focused on her soothing voice and eventually on the familiar features of her face. Rosie smiled at him and rested her palm over his heart.

“You know, you owe it to yourself for the person you are, and to the community for the person they see you as, to stop being a self-pitying jerk.”

He lurched at the shock of her words, such a contrast to the mood she’d created. Rosie poked him in the chest. Her voice was no longer quite so soothing. “I understand how you feel, Ethan—”

“You can’t have a clue.”

That seemed to make her angrier. “You’re obviously, rightfully, embarrassed that Michelle jilted you.”

“In front of two hundred people.” He hadn’t meant to shout, not that it fazed Rosie at all. No, if anything, she stepped closer until he felt her legs against his.

She tilted her head way back so she could stare him in the eyes. “When you carry on the way you do, it looks like you’re still pining over her.”

Ethan snorted. Personally, he thought just the opposite to be true. People saw him with different women, saw him enjoying his bachelor life, and it proved that he was over Michelle, that he didn’t care.

That she hadn’t ripped his heart out.

Leaning closer still, until her nose nearly touched his chin, Rosie said, “But I know you’re not lovesick, Ethan. I know, because you didn’t love her.”

Ethan grabbed her shoulders to keep her from getting any closer. He would have moved away from her, but she had him boxed in. That thought almost made him smile. He weighed a smidgen off two hundred pounds, and Rosie couldn’t possibly go over one-thirty, yet she did her best to intimidate him with her body.

Her best was pretty damn tantalizing, he admitted, when he felt her soft belly against his crotch.

All humor vanished.

She stared up at him, her eyes the color of an approaching storm. “You want people to know you’re over Michelle, that she didn’t really affect you? Well, I have a better suggestion than what you’ve been doing.”

Ethan could barely breathe. Her mouth was right there, so close he could smell the toothpaste she’d just used and damn, it looked good. He wanted her, whether he denied it or not, whether he wanted to or not. Unable to move, he growled, “What suggestion?”

“Get involved with a nice girl.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth and her voice lowered, went husky in a way he’d never heard from Rosie before. “Quit playing the sexist Neanderthal and get serious again. Stop running scared.”

“I’m not—”

She touched his bottom lip, stealing his thoughts, making him tense. She whispered, “Let me love you.”

* * *

ETHAN KEPT TO THE SHADOWS of the large elms that lined the street, skirting buildings while trying not to look too furtive. He wanted to see her without being seen himself.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this.

Actually, everything he’d done in the past twenty-four hours fell into the realm of the “not to be believed,” starting with getting rip-roaring drunk, and ending with Rosie in his bed. So what did one more idiotic thing matter?

It didn’t. Besides, his curiosity was too keen to keep him away. Luckily, Riley’s studio had an enormous front window, so he’d be able to see what kind of lessons Rosie was taking without her knowing he spied.

He could only imagine what she’d think if she knew. The silly goose already thought herself in love with him. If she thought, even for a second, that he returned that overly valued emotion…

Ethan grunted, but deep inside himself something warm had started stirring the moment she’d said those four little taunting words. Let me love you.

He knew it was only lust. And no wonder with the way she’d been coming on to him. An ordinary woman he could have withstood, but Rosie…he hadn’t wanted to chance it.

Nearly panicked, he’d sent her on her way with the explanation that he loved her, too—as a friend, and only a friend.

He’d looked her right in her beautiful blue eyes and lied through his teeth, telling her he didn’t want her sexually, that he saw her as asexual, like a pal. Totally sexless. No sex thoughts involved at all. Sex, no. Friends, yes.

Rosie was not stupid.

She’d sighed, patted his chest in a curiously tender way and told him she’d give him a little time to get used to the idea.

He had a week.

Then she’d dressed and left and he still didn’t know what the hell had happened last night in his bed. He’d be deranged with curiosity in a week. He had to find out something soon.

The sun was bright, baking down on his head and back. July had started on a heat wave that showed no signs of relenting. Shimmering hot waves rose from the blacktop parking lot. Ethan wore his aviator-style mirrored sunglasses, but still he had to hold a hand up to shield his eyes when he reached Riley’s.

There were few people out on this sweltering afternoon, so he stood alone on the sidewalk with only the occasional passerby. Still, he maintained a casual air of indifference so he wouldn’t look suspicious. The second he peeked inside, he spotted Riley rolling around in the middle of the mat with someone. It took Ethan less than three seconds to realize the person in the baggy T-shirt, snug shorts, sneakers and headgear was Rosie.

Calm control took a flying leap.

In three long strides Ethan had the door open and had advanced halfway across the gym. He ripped off his sunglasses to better see their shameful behavior. “What in the hell are you doing?” The rafters trembled with his bellow.

Riley, his head stuck between Rosie’s thighs, looked up in surprise. His voice was a bit strangled, due to the way she had her legs clenched tight around his neck, when he said, “It’s called the North South Position.”

He grunted, did a quick flip and ended up on top with Rosie peering at Ethan, her face red with exertion, her head now between Riley’s thighs.

Ethan gawked and fought the urge to bodily separate them. “That’s…that’s obscene.”

Rosie tried to buck Riley off—and that only made matters worse from Ethan’s perspective. His vision started to blur.

“I’m learning…leg…chokes,” Rosie managed to gasp around her panting breaths. To Ethan, it appeared her eyes were starting to water.

He was more than ready to intervene when they rolled again and Ethan had to jump to keep from getting caught in the fast-churning tangle of arms and legs. When they stopped, Rosie was on top and she had Riley’s arm caught in an awkward position, using her whole body to keep a steady pressure on it. Riley, around his strained laughter, cried uncle.

Rosie jumped up, punched a fist in the air like a world conqueror, and gave a ferocious battle cry. “Ha! Gotcha with a chicken wing.”

Riley stood, too, grinning from ear to ear, but he shook his head at her. “You hadn’t sunk it good enough. I could have gotten loose if Ethan hadn’t been standing here breathing fire.”

Rosie gasped in high indignation. “That’s just like a man to claim he lost to a woman only because of another man.”

Riley slipped his arm around her. “We’ll keep working on it.” He winked at Ethan.

At that particular moment Rosie wasn’t the least attractive. Her hair stuck out in crazy clumps around the headgear, some long tangled tendrils loose, some looped in and around the straps. Her face was flushed and there was sweat on her forehead and upper lip. The wrinkled, sweat-dampened clothes she wore couldn’t have been less appealing.

And Ethan wanted to throw her over his shoulder, smack her behind soundly, and remind her in no uncertain terms that she’d not only professed her love, but she’d given him a week to get used to it.

Instead, trying to hide his disgruntlement, he said to both of them, “If anyone taped your lessons, they could sell them for porn videos.”

Cocking one shapely hip and giving him a siren’s come-and-get-it smile, Rosie quipped, “Gee, honey, ya really think so?”

The pose should have been ludicrous given her present appearance. Instead, Ethan choked on a surge of lust.

Laughing, Rosie turned and sashayed her way out of the gym, heading for the showers. “Be right back.”

The second she disappeared from sight, Riley dropped against the wall and grabbed his shoulder with a loud groan. “Man, she about tore my rotator cuff. She’s good.”

Ethan stared at him. His eyes narrowed the tiniest bit.

Doing a double take, Riley asked, “What?” Ethan stared some more, no civil words coming to his mind or mouth.

“Oh, come on, Ethan.” Riley pushed his sweaty hair back and grunted. “I’m teaching her to defend herself with legitimate defensive and offensive moves. As a real estate agent, you know she finds herself with male clients in empty houses a lot.”

“Well, I hope if a guy attacks her, she doesn’t stick her face in his crotch. I seriously doubt that’ll deter him.”

Riley tried and failed to stifle his laugh. “She’s learning different ways to utilize the chicken wing—and as I said, she’s getting good at that. She’s also learning some good leg chokes. Usually, a woman who is attacked finds herself on her back with the assailant on top. I’m teaching her how to get out of that hold.”

It made sense. God knew, Ethan wanted her safe, but still…

“I’m also teaching her the Guard, the High Crotch Series and some Silat knife moves.”

“What’s the…never mind. I don’t want to know.” By silent agreement they moved off the mats and to a bench lining one wall. Ethan plopped down, stretched out his legs, dropped his head back against the cool wall and sighed. “Damn, I’m beat.”

Totally deadpan, Riley asked, “Long night?”

But Ethan was actually glad that he’d brought up the subject. Slowly, he swiveled his head toward Riley and opened his eyes. “Did Rosie tell you anything?”

“She’s not one to kiss and tell.”

“I didn’t kiss her.”

“No? Well, whatever you did, she wouldn’t be talking about it. I’ve never once heard her mention a date or what she might have done on a date, have you?” Rather than wait for a reply, Riley continued. “And you know, now that I’m thinking about it, that’s strange, huh?”

Ethan knew he’d rather walk into another burning building than think about Rosie with other men. It never failed to set him on edge. “We didn’t have a damn date, and I didn’t kiss her.”

Rosie reappeared, and Ethan thought she had to have taken the fastest shower in history. Then he realized she hadn’t changed, had only removed the headgear and combed her hair.

She was still sweaty.

“You,” she said, pointing at Ethan, “don’t know what you did.”

He snared her gaze with his own and wouldn’t let her look away. “So tell me, Rosie. Did I kiss you?”

Her cheeks turned pink and she shrugged. “Maybe I don’t remember, either.”

Ethan slowly stood to approach her. “Oh, if I’d kissed you, Rosie, believe me, you’d remember.”

She squared off, facing him like a prizefighter with her hands on her hips, legs braced. “Yeah? And why’s that?”

He jutted his chin forward to match her stance. “Because I’m a damn good kisser.”

“Maybe.”

“It’s true.” He reached back to nudge Riley with a fist. “Ask Riley, he knows.”

Riley almost fell off the bench. “What are you talking about?” His voice rose to a shout when Riley almost never shouted. “I sure as hell haven’t kissed you!”

“Excuse me?”

They all turned toward the front door, and there stood the redhead from the night before. Her glorious hair—Ethan did love the color—was piled on top of her head in loose, very feminine disarray. She wore a pale green, knee-length skirt with a crisp white blouse and very high heels. An enormous satchel was hooked over her arm.

Great, Ethan thought, just great. He needed this like he needed a four-alarm fire.

Much provoked, Riley stood and immediately shouted, “I have never kissed Ethan, swear to God.”

Rosie moved with the speed of light to position herself in front of Ethan.

Ethan started to laugh. He couldn’t help himself. He was still a little hungover, still very confused by Rosie’s recent offer, and horny as hell to boot. Could his life get more muddled?

“It’s true,” he confirmed. “Riley is as macho as they come. Hell, he’s so macho he has hair on the soles of his feet.”

“I do not.” Riley turned to glare at him. “And don’t help me, all right?”

Biting back his smile, Ethan said, “By the way, Riley, I was talking about those twins who wanted to double date, remember? The one told you I was a great kisser and she wanted to test you out to see who was better?”

Riley’s frown lifted, a smile started and he said, “Oh, yeah.”

The redhead looked beyond confused, on the verge of bolting. Her apparent nervousness kept her shifting her feet and twisting her hands. “Are you open?”

Obviously dismissing Ethan and his memories of the twins, Riley looked her over, crossed his arms and said, “I could be.”

Clutching her satchel, Red said, “I need to learn some self-defense.”

Riley cocked a brow at that, Rosie scowled and Ethan felt mired in guilt. “Good God, I didn’t assault you, did I?” He never should have gotten drunk. He never should have…

“No, of course not.” Her green-eyed gaze darted to Rosie, to Ethan and back to Riley. Her slim brows puckered in a suspicious frown. “Am I interrupting?”

“We were just about to leave.” Rosie took Ethan’s arm and tried to drag him behind her.

He planted his feet and refused to budge. “If I bothered you last night, I am sorry. I don’t usually drink like that.”

Red’s smile was distracted when she forced herself to look away from Riley. “You were fine,” she assured him. “Mostly you just talked about a woman.”

Ethan groaned. He felt moronic enough already, but, God, if he’d been waxing poetic about Michelle, he’d have to leave town.

Rosie elbowed him hard to show her displeasure. He grunted, caught her lethal pointy little elbow so she couldn’t inflict more damage to his ribs and said to Red, “Again, I’m very sorry. You should have shoved me under a table or something.”

“I didn’t mind.” Red’s expression softened. A small smile teased her mouth. “Actually, I thought it was rather sweet that you’re so obviously in love with her.”

Ethan stiffened, embarrassed and outraged. “I am not in love with Michelle.”

“Michelle?” Red frowned and again looked around at each person in the room before settling back on Ethan. “But…I thought her name was Rosie?”

CHAPTER THREE

ROSIE DID HER BEST to hide her grin as she turned off the Crock-Pot and dished up heaping bowls of thick stew. She’d gotten home half an hour ago, quickly showered, then changed into cutoffs and a T-shirt. She’d barely finished before they’d arrived.

All of them.

She sneaked a peek at Ethan and felt her heart patter in excitement. He sat at her small round dinner table, behaving like a surly badger, but at least he’d shown up.

He hadn’t wanted to. He’d even refused—until Riley suggested to Rosie that they could do a little more practice after they’d eaten. Ethan had immediately changed his mind about dinner, and Rosie was starting to hope that jealousy motivated him.

Just as she finished serving the stew, the bread machine dinged and she carefully removed the hot loaf to a cutting board. The men were all sniffing the air impatiently. Harris even smacked his lips together, making her laugh.

“Ethan, will you pour everyone something to drink? And get the butter out of the refrigerator.”

He grumbled an incoherent reply, then fetched a tea pitcher and began filling glasses.

Riley took a long drink and said, “Did you know that Red is a reporter? She was there last night to do a story on Ethan.”

Ethan froze with the pitcher poised over Buck’s glass. “Oh, shit.”

Rosie dropped the large carving knife, almost removing her big toe.

“Hey, be careful there.” Riley frowned at her.

She snatched up the knife and rinsed it in the sink. “A reporter? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Nah, but she’s different from a lot of them. She’s real sweet. She said she realized Ethan was drunk, so she’s going to contact him for another interview.”

Buck nudged Ethan to get him to pour the tea, then peered at Riley. “You like her?”

“Yeah, sure. She’s a jumpy little thing, and her imagination is a bit much.”

Rosie hated the idea of the woman being alone with Ethan. She wouldn’t tolerate it, not since she already knew Ethan found her attractive. When she interviewed Ethan, it would have to be with Rosie present to protect his virtue. “What’s wrong with her imagination?”

“She has some goofy notion that people are out to get her. She’s a little paranoid, if you ask me.”

Harris began buttering a thick slab of bread. “What’s her real name?”

Grinning, Riley said, “Get this. It’s Regina Foxworth.” He laughed. “And she is foxy, but ‘Red’ suits her better than Regina.”

Harris and Buck stared at Riley in complete and total bafflement. It was the very first time they’d ever heard him make such a comment concerning a woman.

Rosie couldn’t help but grin. Well, well, well. It would gratify her immensely if Riley staked a claim. More than anything else, that would ensure that Ethan stayed free of the woman’s clutches.

Ethan reseated himself at the table. “Hell, I don’t want to be interviewed. Not by her, not by anyone. I had enough of that crap back when the fire first happened.”

“It’s good for the department.” Harris pointed a spoon at him. “Captain is hoping you’ll get us new funding.”

“The captain can damn well—”

“If you don’t willingly meet with her,” Riley interjected, “she said she’d be forced to use what information she got at the ceremony last night.”

Rosie made a disgusted face. “And that would be what? That Ethan can’t hold his liquor?”

“Probably something like that.”

Ethan ignored them to dig into his stew. “Mmm. Terrific, Rosie. Thanks.”

The others followed suit, showering her with compliments. She thanked them, took a breath, then forged on manfully. “You know, you could all eat home-cooked meals more often if you’d just settle down.”

Harris had his mouth full but he still managed to sputter. “I’m plenty settled.”

Buck had the good grace to first swallow. Loudly. “No time. The lumberyard is a demanding mistress.”

Harris laughed and thwacked him on the back for that quip.

Riley shrugged. “Maybe someday. But not yet.”

Ethan remained conspicuously silent.

“You could all start with a nice house. I see terrific deals all the time.” She tried not to stare at Ethan. “There’s a nice tight ranch not far from where you already live, Riley. One hundred percent financing. New windows, new furnace.”

Ethan stood. “Mind if I get some more stew?”

Deflated, Rosie waved at him. “Go ahead. Help yourself.”

For fear of not getting seconds, the other guys jumped up and got in line for the Crock-Pot. Rosie tapped her fingertips on the tabletop. They were all so stubborn.

“I’d waive my fee, you know.”

Riley patted her head on his way back to his seat, his bowl almost overflowing. “Course you would, hon. It’s not that. I just don’t think any of us are anxious to get into the home-and-hearth routine.”

Squaring her shoulders, Rosie twisted in her seat and faced Ethan. “You used to be. Don’t you remember when you were wanting kids and a dog and a house with a picket fence?”

A heavy silence fell around them. Other than a quick look in her direction, Ethan paid her little mind. “It’d be hard to forget, but that was a long time ago.”

“Nineteen months. Not all that long.”

He pierced her with a lethal look. “Long enough.”

Riley cleared his throat and attempted to help Rosie by changing the subject. “So, Ethan, you gonna meet up with Red? You know how reporters are. It’s easier not to fight them.”

“Yeah, what the hell. I’ll talk with her.”

“She’s probably left a message on your machine by now. Let us know how it goes.”

“You know,” Ethan said, gesturing with a piece of bread, “a good reporter would be covering something more important, like the damn fireworks. The Fourth is next weekend and I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m dreading it already.”

Harris lifted his glass of tea in a toast. “Count me in on that. Every year someone sets a fire or gets burned. Why is it the majority of people who want to play with the damn things are idiots?”

“Are you expecting trouble?” Rosie asked.

“Every year.” Arms folded on the table, Ethan glared down at his half-empty bowl. “And with the new bill just passed, a lot of the pyrotechnics we hate most are now legal for adults to use. Only adults aren’t the only ones getting their hands on them.”

“Firecrackers, Roman candles, bottle rockets.” Harris leaned back in his seat. “Did you know about twelve thousand people get sent to emergency rooms every Fourth of July? Over fifty percent of them are kids, and ten percent are permanently injured. It sickens me.”

“And,” Ethan added, “we have a fireworks dealer in town who’s known to be a little less than reputable. I’d love to shut him down, but for now, all we can do is keep an eye on him.”

Since Rosie had never heard Harris speak so…passionately on a topic, she was enthralled—and unaccountably worried. By the nature of their work as firefighters, Ethan and Harris faced various levels of danger daily. She’d tried to get used to that, especially since Ethan always seemed determined to be the first man in, the last man out, and the quickest to volunteer. He might not want to admit it, but he had hero tendencies that were as plain as his hair and eye color, there for all the world to see.

But this sounded more lethal than the usual day-to-day stuff, and she couldn’t quite keep the worry from her tone. “Will it be dangerous for you two?”

Ethan scowled over her concern, even as he shook his head. “No, but seeing a kid burned is about the most awful thing in the world.”

“I know it’s something I’ll never get used to,” Harris conceded.

Looking thoughtful, Riley said, “Maybe Red can help. She could at least get some of the facts in the paper, right?”

Buck slanted him a look. “Just how well did you get to know her this afternoon?”

Riley shrugged. “We talked about an hour. I told her what the lessons would cost, how often she should come in—stuff like that. She wanted a starter lesson today so we spent another hour on that.” He stretched. “I worked up quite an appetite, I can tell you.”

“Hell,” Ethan muttered, “if you showed her the same stuff you were doing with Rosie, the two of you might be having kids soon.”

Riley laughed out loud at that, and Rosie blushed.

“We’ve seen.” Harris grinned at her, and his blue eyes were glittering with mischief. “Wanna wrestle, Rosie?”

“No.” She stood and collected bowls, hoping no one noticed her heightened color. “Anyone want ice cream for dessert?”

Buck and Harris both cackled at the way she tried to change the subject.

Ethan wouldn’t let it go. “What do you mean, you’ve seen? You two have been down there watching?”

Buck nodded. “Hell of a show.” He and Harris clicked glasses.

Flustered, Rosie smacked them both in the back of the head. “Now you two just quit it. And you, Ethan. You’re making a big deal out of nothing. Why, Riley’s the one teaching me the moves and he doesn’t laugh about it.”

She glanced up in time to see Riley wipe the grin off his face. “All right, that’s it. Forget dessert. You can all go home now.”

Immediate apologies followed, along with a lot of schmoozing hugs and entreaties. Rosie could barely catch her breath, they were all talking so fast and squeezing her so much.

“Enough already! All right, you can stay.” Her eyes narrowed. “But no more razzing on my lessons. Understood?”

After they’d all dutifully nodded, Ethan stood. “I’ll get the ice cream. One of you lazy slugs get the bowls.”

Together, the men managed to serve themselves since Rosie was still peeved and it showed in the way she crossed her arms tight and kept her mouth flat.

The bowls were no sooner filled than the phone rang. Glad for something to do, Rosie answered it on her kitchen wall phone, but then excused herself from the guys to take the call in private. No one seemed to mind that except Ethan, who scowled and asked, “Who is it?”

“A client, nosy.” She started to tell them not to wait for her, then saw that Buck already had his mouth full and Harris was soon to follow. “You’re all social misfits, do you know that?”

They shrugged. Rosie shook her head and walked out.

The interruption was timely, in her opinion. She needed a few minutes to form her next plan of attack. Bringing up home and hearth hadn’t worked, so she’d have to hit Ethan on a more basic level.

Damn it all, she was going to have to seduce him.

* * *

THE SECOND Rosie was out of hearing, Ethan said, “Finish up and get out of here. I want to talk to Rosie alone.”

Riley bit his upper lip, but refrained from saying anything. Buck wasn’t so subtle. “You two hooked up now?”

“No, we’re not ‘hooked up.’ What the hell’s wrong with you? Rosie is a friend and you know it.”

Harris rolled his eyes. “A female friend, and that’s all the distinction she needs far as I’m concerned.”

“That’s about it,” Buck agreed.

Riley set his spoon aside. “Have any of you ever thought of Rosie in a…you know, sexual way?” He saluted the air with two fingers, giving the first admission, and Harris and Buck quickly lifted their hands, too.

Ethan gawked at them. “You can damn well stop thinking of her that way right now!”

“Impossible.”

“No way.”

“Sorry.”

Ethan shoved his chair back. “You’re all…”

“Normal? Healthy?” Riley laughed. “Gifted with perfect eyesight?”

Buck added, “Male.”

And Harris tacked on, “Single.”

“I don’t believe this.”

Unconcerned with Ethan’s escalating temper, Riley took another bite of ice cream. “You know, Ethan, you’re thumping your chest over nothing. Rosie has always treated us as just pals.” He pointed his spoon at him. “’Cept for you.”

“Lucky bastard,” Harris mumbled with feigned but good-natured envy.

Stone-faced, Ethan paced away. Damn it, he was losing his mind. Ever since he’d awakened with Rosie draped over him, he’d been unable to stop thinking about her. But for the most part he’d forcefully kept those thoughts chaste, not carnal. For the most part.

But now, with his best friends putting thoughts in his head, well, how the hell was he supposed to not think about it? The woman was plain hot and that was all there was to it.

Rosie didn’t help any, prancing around in those Daisy Duke cutoffs with her rounded ass and long legs on display. Oh, yeah, he’d noticed the other guys stealing a peek every few minutes. Course, they did that to all females. But still—This wasn’t just any female. This was Rosie.

His Rosie, damn it.

Riley dropped his spoon into his empty bowl with a resounding clink, catching Ethan’s notice. “She seems a little different since this morning, huh?”

Emotions roiling, Ethan asked through his teeth, “What do you mean?”

“It’s like she’s on the make or something. The way she’s watching you—her body language.”

His throat constricting, his eyes burning, Ethan repeated, “Body language?”

“Yeah.” Riley turned to his cohorts. “You two’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

“Yep.” Buck gave a decisive nod. “She wants him.”

“Bad.”

“Stop it!” Ethan paced again, more furiously this time. But he couldn’t outrun his own thoughts. It was too late. Their words were already bouncing around in his brain, making him sweat, causing his muscles to cramp. Last night he’d done…something with her. This morning she’d been so warm and soft and his bed still smelled like her, sexy and female and utterly Rosie.

He breathed hard, walking faster ’round her kitchen, the three stooges looking on. He couldn’t banish the images of Rosie seducing him, touching him, kissing him…

“That’s it.” Ethan grabbed up their bowls and put them in the sink. “Go home. Go away. Just go.”

Harris made no effort to hide his laughter. Buck had to quickly grab for a napkin as Ethan shoved him toward the doorway.

Riley hung back, grinning like a fool. “One thing, Ethan.”

“What?” Ethan could barely breathe and seriously doubted he could manage a chat with Riley.

Somber now, Riley crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Ethan. “Don’t do anything to hurt her. Remember that she is my friend and I care about her.”

Ethan struggled for control. More than anything he wanted to knock Riley on his ass. How dare he act territorial now when seconds before he’d been all but throwing Rosie at him? He looked at Harris and Buck and they nodded, too, equally protective, equally serious about it.

Riley wasn’t done. “She’s a real nice woman, Ethan, with a huge heart. Don’t use what her brother did against her. She had no part in that.”

“Goddamn it,” Ethan exploded, infuriated that Riley thought such a warning was necessary. He would never hurt Rosie and Riley should have damn well known it. “How dare you bring that up?”

Rosie stepped around the corner, the disconnected phone held loosely in her hand. She frowned in worry, her gaze darting back and forth between the men. “Bring what up? What’s going on?”

Refusing to back down, Riley continued to watch Ethan. Harris and Buck moved to flank Rosie—as if she needed protection.

From him.

“Leave,” Ethan said to all three of them. “Or I will.”

Rosie bit her bottom lip. “Ethan? What’s going on?”

Riley stepped away from Ethan. His expression changed when he tugged Rosie up against his chest for a long hug. “Just guy stuff. Nothing important.”

“Don’t give me that.” She shoved back, her eyes filled with annoyance. “You guys are—”

“Drop it, Rosie.” Ethan waited, his temper growing more fractured by the second as each of them took a turn embracing Rosie. Harris even sighed. Buck touched her cheek with poignant regret.

You’d think she was a virgin they’d decided to sacrifice to some evil spirit! Hell, he cared about Rosie, too, always had. Even during his engagement, she’d remained one of his closest friends. The night his fiancée had jilted him, it was Rosie he’d gone to because he’d been too shamed to face anyone else. He could talk with her, just be with her, easier than he could anyone.

Looking back on it now, he realized there was significance in their complete and total trust of one another. There’d always been a special bond between him and Rosie. She liked all of them, hung with all of them, but only he shared that extra closeness with her.

He was the only one she wanted in the sack.

Oh, hell.

Ethan strode to the door and jerked it open. “Enough, all ready. Violins are going to start playing if you guys don’t stop being so melodramatic.”

As they filed past Ethan, they all grinned and winked and bobbed their eyebrows suggestively. Riley clutched his heart and pretended to swoon. Now these were the guys he knew and loved. He even laughed a little at their antics. “Idiots.”

He closed the door behind them, leaned back on it and surveyed Rosie with new eyes—and undiluted male interest.

She looked worried. “Uh…what’s going on?”

Ethan pushed away from the door. Just thinking about getting her into bed now, about doing everything he hadn’t done last night, made him hot. Holding her gaze, his hunger growing, he murmured, “God, I’ve been dense.”

She took a step back, her eyes wide, locked on his. “Yeah, so what’s new?”

Her sarcasm couldn’t quite hide her nervousness. Ethan felt like a superior male, ready to gentle the little woman, ready to give her what she evidently wanted, what he now knew he wanted.

“No more games, Rosie.”

Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths and she planted her feet, done with backing up. “Okay.”

“Do you want me?”

She blinked hard, twice. “You mean…sexually?”

Just hearing her say it nearly tipped him over the edge. His voice turned husky. His chest constricted. “Yeah.”

Silky brown hair shimmered around her shoulders with her nod. “I have for a long time now.”

“Is that right?” Ethan didn’t want to know how long—it might kill him. He stopped two inches from her. “Nothing happened last night, did it?”

“No.”

“Not even a kiss?” He wanted it confirmed that if he’d kissed her, she’d damn well know it.

“No.” She stared down at her feet. “Your redhead accidentally dumped her drink on me, so I had to leave. You were too drunk to drive and so you asked me to call you a cab.” She looked up, determination darkening her gaze. “I decided to take you home myself to be sure you made it safely, and well…I didn’t want to leave.”

“I see.”

She rushed to add, “I did refrain from taking your pants off you.” She made it sound like a huge concession on her part.

Ethan smiled. “I appreciate that.”

“You do?” She started wringing her hands and frowning at him in confusion.

“Oh, yeah.” Her uncertainty in the face of the bizarre circumstance was rather endearing, Ethan decided. It was rare indeed to see Rosie suffer such a human emotion as self-consciousness. “I damn well want to be sober when I lie down with you, so I can remember every little detail.”

Her eyes widened like saucers. “I was going to seduce you,” she blurted.

“What?”

She nodded hard. “I was. But it’s your fault.”

“My fault you were going to seduce me?” Following Rosie’s train of thought proved impossible, especially when he was already so horny.

“Yes. You were being so stubborn about it, refusing to see me as a female and—”

“I’ve always known you were a female, Rosie.” He wouldn’t lie to either of them. “Not once did I ever confuse you with Riley or Harris or, God forbid, Buck.”

Her mouth fell open, then snapped shut. “Really?”

She sounded so hopeful, Ethan’s heart turned over in his chest. He’d always considered Rosie a very special friend. Now he realized she was very special—in all ways. Especially as a woman. “Hell, yeah.” Then he scowled. “So have the other guys.”

“What other guys?”

The way she asked that made his worries disappear. She wasn’t aware of their interest. And she’d made it clear she wanted him. It was enough. “Never mind.”

“But…”

“Shh.” He took hold of her shoulders and gently caressed her, hoping to calm her and himself. She felt so soft, so warm. He’d touched her shoulders before, for crying out loud, but this was the first time he’d done so with sexual intent. It was different. How he felt was different.

Rosie deserved the best he could bring to her, and that meant not jumping her bones and dragging her down to the carpet, even when that was what he most wanted to do. He needed to be gentle and considerate. And slow.

Ethan closed his eyes. It was going to be a close call, but he thought, all things considered, he’d manage. “Being that we’re both here, alone, and finally in agreement about what we want to do, maybe we should—”

She didn’t give him a chance to finish. With an exclamation of delight, Rosie launched herself at him.

Taken off guard, Ethan staggered under her weight, but quickly righted himself. He was already half hard with expectation and now, feeling Rosie hugged up tight to him, her breasts against his chest, her belly against his groin, he lost what little control he’d been hanging on to. “Damn.”

“Ethan.” She caught his face and kissed him, awkwardly at first but with so much enthusiasm, he groaned. “Ethan,” she said again, his name almost a wail.

“Easy,” he tried to tell her even as he stroked his hands down her back to that perfect heart-shaped bottom. Her shorts were very short and it was nothing for him to slip his fingers under the frayed edges to tease her firm, rounded cheeks. Her skin was so silky, he felt sure his blood would boil.

Rosie bit his bottom lip. She wasn’t overly gentle, either. He jerked, but she knotted her hands in his hair and brought his mouth back to hers so she could suck his lip into her mouth, tease it with her tongue.

“Jesus, Rosie, slow down.”

“No.” She sealed their mouths together and Ethan tilted his head so he could take over, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, swallowing her moan. It was the first deep kiss they’d ever shared, and boy, it was good.

“Wait.” She shoved him back and reached for the hem of her shirt. “I want you to touch me. I’ve been thinking about you touching me for days.”

Oh, no. Hell, no. In very Rosie-like fashion, she was running the show. Ethan couldn’t let her do that. She probably had no idea that she drove him wild, that he might lose control at any moment. She’d never driven him wild before, so how could she know?

He caught her wrists and held her still, even when she struggled against him. “Damn it, Rosie. Give me a second.” He panted, trembled, while she continued to fight him. He should have expected as much; Rosie wouldn’t accept any man’s control easily, not even a man she wanted. Above the lust, that struck Ethan as funny, and he laughed roughly.

Rosie glared at him. “What?” she demanded, still pulling against his hold.

“Let’s go into your bedroom.” Maybe if he could get her pinned beneath him on the mattress, he could slow her down a little.

“The bedroom? Oh, okay.” She tried to turn and hurry in that direction.

Ethan pulled her up short, a little desperate. “Honey, this isn’t a race.”

She turned around and yelled right into his face, “You’ll change your mind!”

She looked so vulnerable, so unsure of herself. He’d been a pig, not seeing what was right in front of his face. “No,” he told her very softly, smiling to reassure her. “Not a chance.”

“Then why—?”

“Ever since I woke up with you this morning, my imagination has been in overdrive.” He touched her slightly parted mouth with trembling fingertips. “Hell, Rosie, thinking about you, wanting you all day, has been like indulging in foreplay for hours and the result is that I’m working with a hair trigger here.”

Her eyes darkened to a deep gray. “You’ve been thinking about me?”

“About getting you naked and under me, yeah.” Saying it made him see it, and his stomach cramped with need. But she deserved to hear everything. “I’ve also been jealous as hell.”

“Jealous? Of who?”

Ethan released her and rubbed his face. The need to laugh struck him again, lightening the urgency—at least for him—just a little. Rosie could be so single-minded in her determination she noticed nothing beyond her objective. Of course, he’d been the same, blind to the fact of his friends’ interest.

But no more.

Ethan caught her hand and led her toward the bedroom. “Everyone. Any guy who looks at you.”

“Really?”

“Especially that damned Riley.” They entered her bedroom and Ethan pushed the door shut. “He knew it, too, and kept egging me on.”

Disbelief had her wrinkling her nose. “Riley?”

Ethan stared down at her, so overwhelmed with tenderness—with newfound love—he could have choked on it. “And Harris and Buck.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“No.” His smile came naturally. So did the love he felt for her, until it filled him up, making him feel whole for the first time in ages. Loosely looping his arms around her, Ethan kissed her temple. “I knew all along that I thought you were hot, but they think it, too.”

She snorted. “They do not.”

“They do.” He smoothed her cheek, her silky-soft brown hair. Rosie. He couldn’t get over the shock, or the rightness of it. “But you only want me, right?”

She stared at him a long minute before squeezing him tight. “I’m not her, Ethan. Of course, I only want you. Michelle was the biggest fool alive to walk out on you. And as much as I hurt for you when it happened, I was so glad you didn’t marry her.”

Ethan closed his eyes, cut by her words. He hadn’t meant to bring that up, hadn’t even been thinking in that direction. Hell, the humiliation Michelle had inflicted couldn’t possibly invade his thoughts, not now, not with Rosie in front of him, ready to take him to her bed. He took one breath, then another, but it didn’t help.

Leaning back, Rosie saw his pained expression and flattened one hand on his chest. “You didn’t love her, Ethan. I know you didn’t.”

“Rosie…”

Her small hand smoothed over his chest then down his abdomen, and lower. He caught his breath.

Still staring up at him, she touched his fly, gently, curiously. He was fully erect, straining his jeans, and Rosie traced her fingertips up and down his length. “I’m not a fool,” she said. “How could I want any other man but you?”

“Yeah,” Ethan murmured, barely able to think much less discuss the past. “Right now.”

Her smile affected him as much as her touch. “I’m ready.”

She stepped back and this time when she reached for the hem of her shirt, Ethan didn’t stop her. He stood there, every muscle in his body tense, as Rosie disrobed as naturally as if she’d been baring herself to him for a lifetime. She threw the shirt aside, unhooked her bra, and still he stood there, just watching—and catching on fire.

With slow precision, playing the tease naturally, she unsnapped her shorts, slid down the zipper, and bent to push them off, taking her panties with her. When she straightened, she was beautifully naked.

A slight blush colored her cheeks when she lifted her face and looked at him. Shaking, Ethan closed his hands on her waist and brought her up against him.

“Rosie,” he whispered, and he took her mouth as he lowered her down to lie flat on the mattress. He’d waited long enough.

He couldn’t wait a second more.

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