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Hot Seduction
Lisa Childs
He can’t resist the heat!“I always leave.” Part of the elite Hotshot firefighting team, Cody Mallehan is happy to jump from one dangerous situation to another. Getting attached to anything—or anyone—is the one risk he's not willing to take. So he carefully nurtures his “bad boy” reputation to keep people at a distance. Until his gorgeous, sexy new landlady tempts him to get very, very close.Serena Beaumont is busy trying to hang on to her ageing but beautiful boarding house. A home where she hopes to one day raise a family. She can't afford lusty thoughts about her newest boarder, his mouth watering ripped body, or his wicked reputation. But even the promise of getting burned won't stop Serena from seducing the hottest man she’s ever met….


He can’t resist the heat!
“I always leave.” Part of the elite Hotshot firefighting team, Cody Mallehan is happy to jump from one dangerous situation to another. Getting attached to anything—or anyone—is the one risk he’s not willing to take. So he carefully nurtures his “bad boy” reputation to keep people at a distance. Until his gorgeous, sexy new landlady tempts him to get very, very close.
Serena Beaumont is busy trying to hang on to her aging but beautiful boardinghouse. A home where she hopes to one day raise a family. She can’t afford lusty thoughts about her newest boarder, his mouthwatering ripped body or his wicked reputation. But even the promise of getting burned won’t stop Serena from seducing the hottest man she’s ever met...
“What are you doing in my bedroom?”
“I’m seducing you,” Cody said.
Serena shook her head. “I’m supposed to do that to you.”
He laughed; she was drunker than he’d thought. But then he remembered her friend’s crazy suggestion. “That’s right. You’re supposed to seduce me.”
“I don’t want to talk...” She reached up and locked her arms around his neck, then she pulled him down on top of her. “I just want you.” Her lips parted as she kissed him.
His body ached for hers. He wanted her so badly. But not like this. He pulled back. “Serena...”
She was definitely awake now, her hands tugging at his shirt and then his belt. Before he could stop her, she pulled it free. The buckle hit the floor with a clank, and she giggled. Then she reached for the button at his waist. He sucked in a breath as her fingers dipped inside.
Did he have the willpower to control his desire?
Dear Reader (#ulink_51dee490-4457-5a0c-87d1-c2a7fe84e9f2),
I hope you’ve been enjoying my Hotshot Heroes series! I’ve been having so much fun writing stories for these sexy firefighters. Wyatt and Dawson weren’t just fighting fires or even their attraction to the women they knew would change their lives. They had to deal with the relentless teasing of their good friend and fellow Hotshot Cody Mallehan.
I have to confess that Cody is my favorite Hotshot. He’s such a flirt. But when I started writing his book, Cody surprised me more than any character has in a long time. I can understand how Serena Beaumont has such a struggle resisting his charms. I hope you enjoy his story as much as I loved writing it.
Happy reading!
Lisa Childs
Hot Seduction
Lisa Childs


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Ever since LISA CHILDS read her first romance novel (a Harlequin story, of course) at age eleven, all she wanted was to be a romance writer. With over forty novels published with Harlequin, Lisa is living her dream. She is an award-winning, bestselling romance author. Lisa loves to hear from readers, who can contact her on Facebook, through her website, lisachilds.com (http://www.lisachilds.com), or her snail-mail address, PO Box 139, Marne, MI 49435.
With great love and appreciation to Andrew Ahearne for believing in and supporting me.
Contents
Cover (#u44f70cfc-ad6e-5c29-9afb-07c048cc7ee4)
Back Cover Text (#ub98de3a7-9844-5c01-9a8a-e0007000caa9)
Introduction (#u925e6333-d50c-5af1-be52-c7942ac72937)
Dear Reader (#ub9841bc5-2dcb-570d-8492-59cc29265787)
Title Page (#u148954fb-3f73-50e2-be2e-64753882f53e)
About the Author (#ua86fc88b-29dc-56c1-b8f4-78670b26a5fa)
Dedication (#u5d24bbab-28ef-5648-9949-c2a6d1cfcce8)
Chapter 1 (#u12eca09b-cc5d-5abf-804b-b57cd2315ad4)
Chapter 2 (#ub40eb1bd-5b27-57c4-8874-4c28b2eb63a9)
Chapter 3 (#u55cbaed0-4e48-512f-bed9-fa986a85ba46)
Chapter 4 (#ub0d33bbd-af35-5b45-b42e-1caef19c3e73)
Chapter 5 (#u4f83a0d5-c80b-5570-8e96-7ef449f7d3eb)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
1 (#ulink_30c13ecb-e5a5-52f6-a029-798922b5a5a6)
HOT BREATH CARESSED his skin as someone panted in Cody Mallehan’s ear. Then a wet, warm tongue slid over his naked shoulder. He shivered and shifted on the stiff firehouse cot. His body tensed. He hadn’t brought anyone back to the firehouse with him the night before. He had never done that, so he had to be dreaming.
The tongue moved to his face now, slobbering all over him. He cursed and opened his eyes and met the adoring gaze of a besotted female. Too bad she was a bitch.
He pushed off the oversize puppy. She was some kind of mixed breed of big dog and even bigger dog. Maybe an English sheepdog and a mastiff because her black-and-gray hair was long and so were her drooling jowls. With the back of his hand, he wiped her doggy slobber off his face. His stubble, which always came in darker than his blond hair, scraped the skin of his hand. He needed to shave. And after the doggy tongue bath, he definitely needed to shower, too.
“Annie, what the hell are you doing here?” he wondered aloud.
Someone had abandoned the mutt at the firehouse a few weeks ago. But Stanley—the kid that Cody had convinced the superintendent to hire to do odd jobs around the house—was supposed to have delivered her to the humane society.
A chuckle—too deep to be Stanley’s—echoed off the cement-block walls of the bunkroom. As far as Cody knew, he was the only one who’d been crashing at the firehouse. He sat up and looked around and discovered his boss kneeling just inside the doorway as Annie jumped all over him.
“It’s not like you to turn away a female’s attention,” Superintendent Braden Zimmer said. His eyes, which were the same brown as his hair, twinkled with amusement.
Cody grinned. He liked seeing the other man like this—joking around again—instead of all depressed over his divorce. So he didn’t correct him. Everybody had the impression that Cody was some big player. Okay, maybe that was because he worked hard to give that impression. But he didn’t even date during wildfire season—unlike some of his fellow Hotshots who’d recently fallen in love.
Hotshots were the US Forest Service’s elite firefighters. During the off-season, they were regular firefighters, working out of firehouses all over the region. Cody worked out of the village of Northern Lakes, Michigan. He was in Northern Lakes now even though it wasn’t the off-season. There had already been a couple of huge blazes here in the Huron National Forest. And it was probable that there would be another... Unless they caught the person who had been setting the fires.
No, Cody was too focused on the job to date, especially now with an arsonist preying on the town. He couldn’t afford any distractions. And he had never allowed himself any entanglements.
“You must be having a dry spell,” Superintendent Zimmer continued.
Maybe he hadn’t been working hard enough on his womanizing image. Or maybe he’d been with the Huron Hotshots long enough that they were getting to know the real him. This was his second season with them, and two years was longer than he’d stayed anywhere. His blood chilling, he shivered with dread. He didn’t want anyone to know the real him. “What makes you say that?”
“Since your cabin burned down, you’ve been sleeping in the firehouse instead of some woman’s bed.”
“I never sleep in some woman’s bed,” he quipped cockily.
“That’s because he’s worried her husband will catch him,” another deep voice chimed in as Wyatt Andrews stepped into the bunkroom. His black hair was all slicked back with sweat; he must have just finished a workout in the weight room. “Cody only goes after other guys’ women.”
He only flirted with them because he knew it was safe. He knew there was no risk—beyond getting his ass kicked. He could handle the physical pain. It was the emotional pain he avoided at all costs. A split lip or a black eye hurt a hell of a lot less than someone letting him down.
Cody grinned. “Getting nervous?” he asked Wyatt. “There’s still time for your fiancée to realize I’m the better man.”
Wyatt snorted. He had every confidence—and with good reason—that Fiona O’Brien would become his bride. Their wedding wasn’t until the wildfire season was over, though. The only thing that might thwart their plans was the arsonist. They needed to catch him.
Cody wiped sleep and the rest of the dog’s slobber from his eyes, and peered at the clock on the wall behind Wyatt’s sweaty head. Had he slept late?
“Why are you guys here already?” he asked. “The team meeting isn’t for a few hours yet.” Adrenaline coursed through his body. If there was a local fire, he would have heard the alarm. No matter how tired he was, he couldn’t sleep through that ear-piercing siren. So they had to be getting called out to a wildfire.
He lived for this—for the travel, for the adventure, for the excitement and most especially for the triumph when they extinguished the blaze. All those things were why he had become a Hotshot. And the fact that he’d needed a couple of years of experience as a Hotshot before he could get a position as a smoke jumper.
That job involved even more travel and adventure and danger.
“Where are we going?” he excitedly asked. “Washington? California?”
Wildfires had been raging out west for a while. They’d already done a couple of week-long stints on the front lines of each of those blazes, cutting breaks—trying to contain the beast. By removing all the vegetation, they starved the fire of fuel, until it eventually burned itself out.
The hard work burned out a lot of Hotshots, too. They were probably needed to relieve another team.
Braden shook his head. “No, I passed on this assignment.”
They had been called up and Superintendent Zimmer had refused to go?
Cody cursed—because he knew why. “That damn arsonist.” That was undoubtedly why Braden had called the whole team together for a meeting later that day. But that didn’t explain why Braden and Wyatt had come in to the firehouse so early.
“Why are you two here now?”
“Because of you,” Wyatt replied.
“What about me?” Cody asked as his blood chilled again. The air was blasting in the firehouse, and the cement-block walls kept it cool. But that wasn’t why he was cold.
Wyatt Andrews was one of Zimmer’s two assistants. In addition to his duties at a fire, he also helped Braden with personnel issues.
Did they have a problem with him—with his work?
Sure, he was a smart-ass most of the time. But he was also damn serious about his job. It meant everything to him; he had nothing else.
“Let’s go to the Filling Station,” Zimmer suggested.
Did his boss think he would need a drink to swallow whatever they had to tell him? Or that it was better to tell him in a public place so that he wouldn’t make a scene?
“It’s too early to drink,” Cody said. He really wasn’t the wild guy he pretended to be. Didn’t they realize that? That was the drawback to never letting anyone get too close, though. But he would prefer that they not really know him rather than know him too well. He didn’t need their pity.
Zimmer chuckled again. “They serve coffee, too, you know. You look like you could use some.”
He hadn’t been out the night before. “I’m not hungover,” he protested.
Wyatt snorted now—derisively. “So you look like hell for no reason.”
“He looks like hell because he’s been crashing here since his cabin burned down,” Braden said. “These bunks are miserable to sleep on.”
“Maybe the firehouse superintendent should order some new ones,” Cody suggested.
Braden mock-glared at him. “You need to find a real bed.”
“You need a place to stay,” Wyatt said. “You can’t stay here.”
Cody chuckled, albeit a little nervously. “What is this? An intervention?”
“Sort of,” Braden admitted. “The US Forest Service has decided not to rebuild your cabin, at least not until we’ve caught the arsonist.”
“Of course.” The son of a bitch kept restarting fires on the scorched ground he’d already burned. The only good thing about this was that there wasn’t enough fuel left to keep the fire burning. Usually the hay bales he poured gasoline over burned out quickly, and the fire didn’t spread. But occasionally the guy started new areas of the forest on fire—like he had when he’d torched the woods where Cody’s cabin had been.
“You need to relocate,” Wyatt said.
He could have laughed again, but it would have had a bitter ring to it. He’d been told so many times that he needed to move—that he wasn’t welcome anymore.
“You kicking me off the team?” he asked. And he was surprised that his voice didn’t crack with the emotion that overwhelmed him. But he wasn’t a kid anymore. He could take care of himself; he had for years.
“Of course not,” Braden said. “We’re kicking you off the cot.”
“We all offered you a bed,” Wyatt reminded him. “You can crash at any one of our places.”
Until he inevitably wore out his welcome.
“You don’t get enough of me now?” he teased.
“I’m usually not there,” Wyatt said. “I stay at Fiona’s.”
Or she stayed at his place. Despite Cody’s teasing, he didn’t want to interfere in his friend’s relationship. The Hotshots were sometimes gone for weeks at a time, so they needed to spend as much time as they could with their loved ones when they were in town. That was why he had also refused to stay with Dawson Hess, Zimmer’s other assistant. Cody hadn’t wanted to put a crimp in his new relationship with the hot reporter, Avery Kincaid.
“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “Last night was my last night here. I found a place.” He actually didn’t want to stay there, but now he had no choice. He just hoped like hell he was better at avoiding temptation than his teammates.
* * *
HER HAND SHAKING, Serena Beaumont set the court order on her desk next to her mother’s portrait. She blinked back tears, so that she could focus on the picture. She had been told—many times—that she looked like her mother. Sure, she had the same long black hair and dark eyes. But she felt the resemblance ended there. She didn’t have Priscilla’s delicate features or the inner beauty that radiated from the portrait. Nor did she have her mother’s strength.
She was about to lose the family home that her mother had fought so hard to keep—so hard that it had probably led to the heart attack that had taken her too soon a year ago.
Serena drew in a deep, albeit shaky, breath and lifted her chin. She wasn’t giving up yet. Sure, it was a lot of money. But she didn’t have to sell the house. She only had to come up with half the value of it.
A year ago she’d been turned down for a loan. But that had been before she’d gotten more boarders in the house. Now she could show that the property could support itself. Or it would...
If she could rent out the rest of the rooms...
Only four of the eight bedrooms were rented. In order to show any kind of profit, she needed to fill the house—like it had been filled when she was little.
When the sweet-talking man who had gotten her pregnant abandoned her, Priscilla Beaumont had become a single mom to her twin daughters. But she hadn’t raised Serena and Courtney alone. She’d had Grandma’s help. They had lived in this house with their grandmother, an aunt, an uncle and some cousins. Serena was the only member of the Beaumont family left in the house now. She was the only one who cared about her heritage—about how her great-great-grandfather, a French trapper, had settled down near the village of Northern Lakes and built this house for his Native American bride.
Two and a half stories with a double-decker wraparound porch, the plantation-style house had also served as a stagecoach stop, although coaches hadn’t often passed through this remote area of Michigan. Adjoining the Huron National Forest, the house was still miles from the village of Northern Lakes. Maybe that was why it was hard for her to find boarders. Most people would rather live in town.
Serena loved the house and the property. She’d already come close to losing it, but the local Hotshot crew had stopped the fire before it had consumed more than the acres of forest that were now just scorched black earth.
She and the house had survived then. They would again. Somehow...
She drew in another breath, but this one was steadier. It wasn’t just her anxiety making it harder for her to breathe; it was the stifling heat. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck, beneath the thick fall of hair.
If she were to get any more boarders, she would need to fix the air conditioning unit. It had been broken for a few weeks. Mrs. Gulliver and Mr. Stehouwer didn’t mind; the heat didn’t bother the octogenarians. Mr. Tremont was younger than them—probably only in his forties or early fifties. But he wasn’t home much. Neither was Stanley, and when the teenager was here, he was usually outside—like he was now.
The kid lounged on the wide front porch. She could see him through the window of her office, which had formerly been the front parlor since its burled oak pocket doors opened onto the wide foyer. Those doors were open, and so was the heavy front door and every window, but no breeze blew through the house.
The air was so still that the sound of an engine startled her. She glanced out the window but could see only the grill of a truck as it pulled up to the house. Then she heard Stanley call out, “Hey, Cody!”
Her pulse quickened more than it had when she’d opened the thick envelope from the lawyer’s office. Then her heart had raced with fear; now, it pounded with excitement.
Just looking at Cody Mallehan was exciting. With his blond hair, clear green eyes, and muscular build he was beyond handsome. He was probably also bad news for a woman like her.
He was a player. Or so her friends had warned her. The few times she’d seen him before today he hadn’t flirted with her, though. Of course, they’d talked business then because he’d brought Stanley as a boarder.
One truck door slammed. Then another opened. Maybe he was bringing someone else to rent a room.
She glanced at her mother’s portrait. Mama would have cautioned her to stay away from a man like her father, who was only passing through. Everyone said that Cody Mallehan grew bored quickly—with women and locations. He wouldn’t be sticking around.
That was good, though. Serena didn’t need him; she just needed the business he brought her. She was too smart to fall for a man like him anyway. She was in no danger of losing her heart; Serena’s only concern was that she not lose her house.
2 (#ulink_16a62b47-a244-5281-9462-5a63bc723a22)
CODY WAS GLAD that he saw Stanley first—sitting on the porch swing of Serena Beaumont’s ridiculously large, yellow-clapboard house. He’d lived in group homes that had been smaller than her place. It was a great boardinghouse.
Not that she had many boarders. The last time he’d stopped by, she’d just had a couple of old folks and Stanley. Probably because it was too far from town. The house was slightly closer than his cabin had been, but the long drive had still given Annie enough time to lick him nearly half to death. He should have made the dog ride in the pickup bed.
“Out!” he told her, pointing at the ground. Finally she leaped down from the passenger’s seat.
“Annie!” Stanley exclaimed with joy. He dropped to his knees and embraced the mutt who jumped all over him, licking his face.
“Don’t act so surprised to see her,” Cody said. “You’re the one who brought her back to the firehouse—after I told you to take her to the humane society.”
“I did,” Stanley replied, quickly and defensively, “when you told me to.”
“That was weeks ago,” Cody said. He narrowed his eyes and studied the curly-haired kid’s face, which was wet with dog drool. Skeptically, he asked, “So what did she do? Break out and find her own way back?”
The dog hadn’t been able to find her own way to the ground from his pickup. He doubted she’d been able to track her way back to the firehouse. Bloodhound was probably the only breed not in her family tree.
“No...” Stanley reluctantly admitted. “I broke her out.”
“Why?”
“Because her time was almost up,” Stanley said.
“What do you mean?” But Cody was afraid that he knew. As if sensing his distress, Annie turned her attention from the kid back to him. She bounded down the porch steps and jumped up on him. Her jowly face and almost soulful brown eyes nearly on the same level as his, she stared at Cody. He pushed her huge paws off his chest, but then patted her head gently.
“They only keep the animals for so long. Then, if nobody adopts them, they put them down, Cody,” Stanley slowly explained—as if he were the adult and Cody the kid who didn’t understand. The eighteen-year-old’s voice cracked when he added, “If they did the same thing with people...”
Cody and Stanley would have been dead long ago, since they’d spent most of their lives in foster homes. That was how they’d met. Cody had been forced to leave their group home when he turned eighteen, but he’d kept in touch with Stanley.
Cody had been adopted once, but adopting him had put a strain on the young couple’s marriage, and after a few years they had returned him to the system—like someone might a dog to the pound. He’d been so young that he didn’t even remember them.
Stanley had been born premature and addicted to crack, so no one had been willing to take a chance on a child who might have lifelong physical and mental disabilities. That was probably why Stanley felt such a kinship with the dog.
Annie whined and pushed her head harder against Cody’s hand. He had a kinship with the damn dog, too. The puppy had been abandoned at the firehouse—just as he had been abandoned as an infant at a firehouse in Detroit. The guys had named her Orphan Annie.
“That sucks,” Cody agreed. “But I don’t know where we’re going to keep her.”
“We’re going to keep her?” Stanley asked, his brown eyes wide with hope.
Cody knew better than to make any promises. “I don’t know if we can...” He didn’t have a place to stay himself, let alone room for a dog. Unless...
As if Stanley had guessed what Cody was thinking, he said, “Miss Serena already told me Annie can’t stay here ’cause she’s not housebroken.”
“Is that why you brought her to the firehouse?”
The kid nodded, and some blond curls fell into his face. He really needed a haircut; Cody would have to bring him by the barber. “Yeah...”
“She can’t stay there either,” he said. “She peed in Superintendent Zimmer’s office.”
Stanley’s brown eyes widened. “How mad was he?”
Braden had actually laughed. But he’d also told Cody to take the dog with him when he left. “I don’t think she’ll be welcome there again.”
“But if we have no place to keep her...” Stanley’s voice cracked with emotion. “And we bring her back to the humane society...”
“Maybe she’ll be adopted this time,” Cody said.
Stanley shook his head. “She’s too big. Nobody wants a dog that big, they said.” His brown eyes filled with tears.
“She can stay.”
Cody’s body tensed at the sound of the husky, female voice. He braced himself before turning to where Serena had stepped out onto the porch. She was so damn beautiful. Ever since the first moment he’d met her, he’d been having fantasies about her long, thick hair—about tangling his fingers in it, about...
His mind went blank as his gaze focused on her. It was so hot that he shouldn’t have been surprised she was wearing shorts. But he hadn’t pictured her as the type to wear cutoff Daisy Dukes, and he’d pictured her in a lot of different things—and nothing at all—since he’d met her. Her legs were long and tanned or maybe that was just the natural hue of her honey-toned skin. With the cutoffs, she wore a pale pink tank top, probably in deference to the heat. Her hair was down, reaching nearly to her narrow waist.
“Annie can stay?” Stanley asked hopefully.
Cody was surprised the kid had enough wits about him to pose a question. His tongue was tied. But she had that effect on him. She was the first woman he’d met that he hadn’t been able to flirt with.
“She can stay outside and in the enclosed porches,” Serena allowed. “I don’t want her peeing in my house. Or chewing up any of my great-grandmother’s antiques.”
Stanley nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Ma’am? Cody winced. He was twenty-seven and didn’t like to be called “sir” yet. Serena had to be a few years younger than he was—way too young to be called “ma’am.”
“You should get her some water now,” Serena told Stanley. “With all that hair, she must be overheated.” As she said it, she lifted her own hair from the back of her neck. Her face was flushed; she was hot, too.
So hot...
And sexy...
Nearly tripping over his feet in his anxiousness to obey her—or maybe to please her—Stanley hurried into the house.
Cody could understand wanting to please her. He’d like to try himself. As all the naked images popped into his head, his throat thickened with desire. He cleared it to say, “Thank you.”
Serena nodded.
“What about me?” he asked, even though he knew it was a bad idea. “Can I stay, too?”
Her dark eyes widened in surprise.
He should have asked her for a room weeks ago instead of crashing at the firehouse. But with the arsonist on the loose, he’d thought it was smart to stay close—and there wasn’t any place closer than the house itself. When those hot spots had flared up again with the arsonist’s help, he’d been the first one ready to go.
But the guys wanted him to have a softer bed so he could get more rest. When they were on the job—sometimes for weeks at a time—they got very little sleep.
Another reason he’d decided to crash at the firehouse instead of getting a room here was because of Serena, though. He wasn’t sure how much sleep he would actually get with her so temptingly close.
Her lips parted, but she said nothing—her hesitation obvious. She didn’t seem to want him in her house any more than she wanted the dog.
So he promised her, “I won’t pee in your house or chew up your great-grandmother’s antiques.”
She hesitated another long moment before replying, “Then I guess you can stay.”
* * *
WHAT THE HELL had she been thinking?
Sure, she needed more tenants to be able to show the bank that the boardinghouse could be a profitable business. She’d even hoped that Cody was bringing her another boarder. She hadn’t thought he would be that boarder, though.
Grandma would’ve said it was like letting a fox into the hen house. Of course, she and Mrs. Gulliver were the only hens. And Mrs. Gulliver was eighty-six.
And despite all the things Serena had heard about Cody Mallehan being a shameless womanizer, he hadn’t really even flirted with her. Of course she wasn’t his type. Guys like him loved fun-loving, lighthearted women. She was too serious for him, too stressed thanks to that damn lawsuit. She also didn’t care about makeup and clothes, about dressing to attract men.
Not that she didn’t want a man. But she didn’t want just any man; she wanted one who was as serious as she was—who would stay and help her raise a family someday in this house. That was why she couldn’t lose it.
She had too many hopes and dreams for it—for someday filling it with family, like Grandma had.
No, she definitely wasn’t Cody’s type any more than he was hers. But as she climbed the staircase ahead of him, his gaze was on her ass. She doubted she was just imagining it because it was so palpable she could almost feel it. The elaborate polished oak staircase was extra wide; he could have walked beside her, like a gentleman, but he was taking the opportunity to ogle her instead.
Settling in a boarder was her job, not another tenant’s, or she would have had Stanley show Cody to his room. They would both be on the second floor. Fortunately, her room was not; she lived in the attic, which had been converted to a studio apartment long ago.
As she reached the second-floor landing, she expelled a shaky breath of relief. She was almost there. But a strong hand closed around her wrist, stopping her. Her skin tingled beneath his touch.
“What’s up there?” Cody gestured toward the narrower flight of stairs that led to the third floor.
“My private quarters,” she said. She had no intention of ever letting him up to the small space dominated by her great-grandmother’s old brass bed.
She tugged free of his grasp and headed down the hall toward the room at the end. As Cody followed, she hurried past all the six panel mahogany doors. As she passed an open one, she pointed. “There’s the bathroom. There are two on this floor. One on this side of the stairwell and one on the other side.”
He nodded but he didn’t even glance inside the room—which was good since she still needed to clean it. His gaze remained on her; it was so intense that her hand shook as she reached for the doorknob for his room.
“And this is where you’ll be staying.”
She had put him in the biggest second-floor room, which was also the most masculine with its mahogany trim, dark stained wood floor, and navy blue walls. She stepped back to let him pass her. But he brushed against her anyway, his chest and hip bumping into hers.
Something flared in his green eyes. Or maybe it had already been there—an intensity that unnerved her. As she held out the room key to him, her hand shook so much that she dropped it. He leaned down to pick it up, and his soft hair whispered across her bare legs.
Despite the heat, she shivered. “I should have opened the window,” she murmured and hurried over to it. She needed the air. More than that, she needed the distance from him. But even though it was the biggest bedroom, it wasn’t big enough for her to escape his presence.
She threw up the sash, but no breeze blew in through the window. Not a tree limb or leaf moved in the woods that surrounded the house. She drew in a deep breath and turned back toward Cody.
Now he was leaning over the duffel bag he’d dropped onto the red-and-blue plaid bedspread. His jeans were faded and so worn at the seams that she caught glimpses of blue underwear through the thin material.
Sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades. He was so damn sexy. It wasn’t fair.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
He glanced up in surprise. “What are you sorry about? The room is great.”
She was sorry about the air. But since he hadn’t mentioned it, she didn’t either. She gestured toward his duffel bag. “I’m sorry your cabin burned down.”
“You didn’t do it,” he said. His eyes narrowed, but a grin curved up the corners of his mouth. “Unless you’re confessing to being the arsonist...”
She uttered a kind of you-caught-me sigh. “If I was, I’d be pretty stupid letting a fireman move in.” Her decision had been stupid, though, because she was already under enough stress. Now she had to fight her attraction to him, too.
“I’m sorry that you lost everything in that fire,” she clarified.
He chuckled. “I didn’t have much to lose,” he said. “I travel light—because I travel often.”
Was he warning her? He needn’t have bothered. Her friends had already done that. They’d thought he might ask to stay at her boardinghouse when his cabin had burned down.
“Well, I’ll leave you to unpack,” she said.
“I usually don’t bother,” he told her.
Of course he wouldn’t be staying long. So she would have to apply for that loan quickly—before he left. “I’ll be in the office if you need me,” she murmured as she hurried for the door.
She doubted he would need her. So she settled back into her office with a glass of iced tea. She fished an ice cube from the glass and pressed it to her throat. She could almost feel it sizzle against her hot skin. She would like to blame the lack of air-conditioning for why she was so overheated. But she suspected that wasn’t the only reason now—not with Cody Mallehan moving in.
Knuckles rapped against wood, startling her. She dropped the ice cube, which slid down her neck to disappear between her breasts.
She glanced up to find Cody leaning against the frame of the pocket door to her office. Hopefully he was on his way out.
“Want me to get that for you?” he asked, his mouth curving into a wicked grin. Now he was flirting with her?
Had he refrained earlier so that she would let him move in? Serena could still ask him to leave, if it got too uncomfortable—more uncomfortable than the ice cube melting in her cleavage.
Her brain muddled, she could only murmur, “It’s hot...”
Hotter now that he was here. His green eyes twinkled with amusement—and something else—as he studied the wet trail the cube left on the front of her shirt.
“It’s damn hot,” he agreed.
Maybe it was because of the way he was staring—or maybe it was because of the ice cube—but her nipples tightened inside her lacy bra and pushed against the thin material of her tank top.
“I have a repairman coming out to fix the air-conditioning,” she said.
Or she would have the technician come out, as soon as she came up with enough money for the service call and whatever else he might charge to get the old unit functioning again. But she didn’t want Cody to know that; she couldn’t afford to lose a renter, especially now.
And that was why she had to ignore the attraction she felt for him. A man like Cody wouldn’t stay in the home of a woman he’d slept with. He was definitely the love ’em and leave ’em type. That part of the rumors she’d heard was true, she knew—or he wouldn’t be renting a room from her. He’d be living with one of his lovers.
“I didn’t realize the air was out,” he said. And that wicked grin widened.
He was definitely flirting with her. Her pulse quickened. He shouldn’t be flirting.
But then he probably didn’t care if he stayed in her house or not. Eventually the US Forest Service would rebuild his cabin. Or he’d go back to staying in the firehouse where she’d heard he’d been sleeping since the last fire.
Remembering how the flames and smoke had painted the sky red and black over Northern Lakes, she shuddered. The fire had come too close to the house—licking at the trees at the edge of her property.
“I thought you were hot,” he said. “But now you’re shivering.”
She sighed. “I was just thinking about the arsonist—how he could strike again at any time...” Which was another good reason to have a firefighter living in her house.
The flirty sparkle of amusement left his green eyes, leaving them dark and hard. His voice gruff with emotion and determination, he said, “We are going to catch him.”
She nodded. “I know.”
He released a ragged breath. “That’s where I’m heading now. The whole Hotshot team is having a meeting at the firehouse. I just popped in to your office to give you this,” he said. His long strides closed the distance between them in two steps. He dropped a wad of cash on the desk. “This is my rent,” he said. “And the other amount we agreed on...”
For months he had secretly been paying half of Stanley’s room and board. A lot of people talked about Cody—about his skirt-chasing, about his bar-brawling, about his risk-taking—but nobody talked about his generosity. Because they didn’t know.
Only she knew that there was more to Cody than the rumors swirling around Northern Lakes, and that made him even more attractive to her. She glanced down at the cash; there was enough to get the air fixed now, even if the condenser was beyond repair like the serviceman had already warned her.
“Thank you,” she murmured. She should have been relieved, but there was an emptiness inside her. While it was enough money to fix the air-conditioning, it wasn’t enough to satisfy the lawsuit. She needed more if she was going to have any hope of keeping her family heritage.
He leaned over her desk, so close that his face nearly touched hers as he murmured in her ear, “And remember—”
Remember? What was she supposed to remember? With him so close she could barely think.
“—this is between you and me.” His breath caressed the side of her face, making her skin tingle. “Stanley can’t ever know.”
Cody had brought Stanley to her boardinghouse when the kid had turned eighteen and lost his eligibility to stay in foster care. She wasn’t sure how he even knew the kid or why he cared. But he did—obviously a lot.
She shook her head, but he hadn’t moved his. Their mouths nearly touched. She drew in a shaky breath and assured him, “I haven’t told anyone.”
“It’s our little secret then,” he said. The amusement was back, glinting in his green eyes. He didn’t straighten up and move away. Instead he leaned closer.
She could feel the heat of his breath on her lips now. Her lashes fluttered in anticipation of his mouth moving over hers. He was going to kiss her.
But then an alarm rang out. He jerked away from her as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He cursed.
“There’s a fire?”
He spared her only a quick nod before turning to rush out the door. She hoped the arsonist hadn’t struck again; the last fire he’d started had been too close.
Hopefully something else had caused a fire. Lightning. Bad wiring. An overheated car.
Or Cody Mallehan.
Because she was pretty sure he’d started a fire inside her. Her fingers trembling, she fished out another ice cube. She could dump the whole glass down her tank top, but she doubted it would cool the desire she felt for her new boarder.
3 (#ulink_99b0f100-ae20-5580-b4fb-3873cea67aca)
CODY HAD PUT OUT one fire with the extinguisher he carried in his truck. But there was another fire he couldn’t put out. The one burning between him and his hot landlady...
If the fire alarm on his phone hadn’t rung, he might have done something really stupid. He might have kissed her. Their mouths had been so close that he’d almost tasted the sugar on her lips from her glass of sweet tea. Remembering the trail the ice cube had taken from her throat, over the swell of her breast to disappear in her cleavage, he groaned.
“What’s the matter with you?” Dawson Hess asked. The dark-haired guy sat next to Cody in the big conference room on the third floor of the firehouse.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“That groan is the first sound I’ve heard you make since you rolled in here late,” Dawson said.
During the meeting Cody had managed to hold in his disappointment that they still had no leads on the arsonist. But that was just about all he remembered of the meeting.
“You’re never quiet,” Wyatt chimed in from the other side of Dawson. His blue gaze held some concern. “What’s wrong?”
Owen James leaned forward from the chairs behind them and asked, “Something’s wrong?”
In addition to being a Hotshot, the former army medic was an emergency medical tech for Northern Lakes during the off-season. Like the rest of them, he’d no doubt been stationed at home again because of the arsonist. So far nobody had been seriously hurt in any of the fires.
But the arsonist was getting more and more dangerous. It would only be a matter of time—unless they stopped him.
Cody shook his head and reassured them all. He forced his usual cocky grin. “Just getting sick of doing all the work around here.”
Concern gone, Wyatt snorted—which Owen echoed.
“Hey, I had to put out a car fire on my way in,” Cody said. “That’s why I was late.”
“That fire was on M87,” Owen said. “What were you doing out there?”
“I’m staying out that way,” Cody replied.
“At the Beaumont boardinghouse?” Wyatt asked.
He nodded.
Wyatt snorted again. “That’s not going to last.”
“Why not?”
“Serena Beaumont isn’t going to put up with you hitting on her,” Wyatt said. “She’s like Fiona used to be.”
“She thinks getting involved with a firefighter is too great a risk because of our dangerous jobs?” As an insurance agent, Fiona O’Brien had statistics to back up her belief. Unfortunately, the wildfires burning out west had added to those statistics when a few more firefighters had lost their lives battling those blazes. The Huron Hotshots had spent a few weeks helping out there, but their greatest threat was at home.
Wyatt shrugged. “Serena is Fiona’s friend. But I don’t know her really well. Since her mom died last year, she’s been busy trying to run that boardinghouse all by herself.”
With the size of the place, Cody could understand how just cleaning it would keep her busy. But cooking and caring for people, too?
That was why he preferred to live alone now that he had a choice. He’d loved his cabin out in the middle of nowhere. Then, he hadn’t had to put up with, or take care of, anyone else. Sure, it had been too quiet sometimes. But that was just because he was used to noise, used to people being around.
It didn’t mean that he hated being alone. Or that he got lonely...
A person could be lonely even living in a house full of people. Was Serena lonely?
Something seemed to have been bothering her earlier. She’d looked upset or sad. But maybe she still missed her mom. Cody wouldn’t know what that might be like. You couldn’t miss what you’d never had.
“So you’re saying she doesn’t have any time to put up with Cody’s flirty bullshit,” Dawson summed up for Wyatt.
But she’d given Cody her time. She hadn’t thrown him out of her office when he’d flirted with her earlier. She hadn’t pulled away when he’d leaned in close.
Her thick lashes had fluttered, and she had closed her big, dark eyes as if anticipating his kiss. His stomach muscles tightened; he’d wanted to kiss her, to taste her...
But it was better that he hadn’t. “I didn’t know that she lost her mom last year.” All he’d known was that she owned a huge house and was damn hot.
Dawson nodded. “Owen and I went out on the call.” If he wasn’t too busy with his assistant superintendent duties, Dawson occasionally helped out at as paramedic.
“She died right in that house,” Owen added with a soft sigh. “We got there as quickly as we could, but we were too late to save her. Serena had tried—unsuccessfully—to resuscitate her until we got there.”
Cody cursed. He remembered that frustration of being unable to save someone. He’d been just a kid when he’d watched a person die for the first time. The boy had been in the same foster home as Cody, but not for long. Nobody had been warned of the five-year-old’s peanut allergy—until it had been too late to save him. The home had been shut down after his death and Cody moved to another one.
“She’s been through a lot,” Owen said sympathetically, as if that EMT call still bothered him.
All of the Hotshots worked in other capacities in the off-season. Wyatt and Braden manned the Northern Lakes firehouse. Cody worked as a US Forest Service ranger and backup for the firehouse. Dawson also worked as a backup firefighter and backup EMT. Owen worked primarily as an EMT and usually ran out of the hospital some forty-five minutes north of Northern Lakes.
Wyatt leaned closer and warned Cody, “So don’t mess with her.”
Cody hated messes and getting involved with his landlady would definitely lead to one. He nodded his agreement, but then that vision of the ice cube sliding down into her cleavage flashed behind his eyes.
“As soon as Avery’s place is rebuilt, you can take my cabin,” Dawson offered.
“You’re moving in with her?” Cody asked. He had never lived with anyone before—at least, not just one person. There had usually been several other kids in those foster homes, especially the group ones he’d lived in when he’d gotten older.
Dawson grinned. “Not that she’ll be home much with her new job.”
After breaking the story of the arsonist attacking Northern Lakes, the reporter had received more attention than the culprit, which had led to an impressive new career opportunity for her.
“Has the arsonist tried to contact her again?” Cody asked.
Dawson’s brow furrowed. “I already answered that question during the meeting.”
“I must have missed that part...” Because he’d been thinking about that damn ice cube with an envy he’d never felt before. Of course, he’d been preoccupied with Serena since he’d brought Stanley out to live with her. For the past few months he’d been having erotic dreams about her. He’d been obsessed with images of her long, silky hair—of only her hair covering the sweet curves of her naked body.
“You were sitting right next to me,” Dawson pointed out. He stared intently at Cody, as if trying to figure out what was going on with him.
He didn’t know himself. While he enjoyed women, he had never let one distract him from his job before. Unnerved, he forced some more cockiness into his voice to cover it up. “You know I don’t listen unless I’m the one talking.”
Wyatt chuckled. “Ain’t that the truth.”
Dawson didn’t seem to buy the explanation as easily. But he answered Cody’s question. “No, the arsonist hasn’t contacted her.” He sounded relieved.
But they could have used another lead. Any lead...
“This must be killing you,” Ethan Sommerly commented as he dropped onto the chair next to Owen and right behind Cody.
Dawson turned fully around and said, “We all want the arsonist caught.”
“I know that,” Ethan said. “I was talking about Mallehan having to stick around Northern Lakes in case the arsonist decides to strike again.” His huge hand grabbed Cody’s shoulder. “It has to be killing you to stay in one place.”
Ethan was a ranger, too—in a vast national forest in the upper peninsula. He actually enjoyed living in the middle of nowhere and nothing, which Cody had often needled him about. With his bushy beard and long hair, the guy looked like a mountain man.
Cody grinned and faked a shudder. “You know me.”
Everybody thought they did. And Cody would have agreed with them until now. Now—with thoughts of a woman distracting him from the job that meant everything to him—he wasn’t even sure he knew himself.
* * *
“DO YOU HAVE a strong lock for your bedroom door?” Serena’s insurance agent asked.
“I have dead bolts on all the doors,” Serena replied. “You know that. I thought you were already giving me a discount.” Not that she used them... She didn’t want to lock out a boarder who might have forgotten his key.
“I’m not talking about protecting the house,” Fiona O’Brien explained. “I’m worried about you protecting yourself.”
No matter how much she needed money for the house upkeep and property taxes, Serena had never risked her own safety or the other tenants’ safety by renting to someone unsavory.
“I do background checks on all the boarders,” she said. When she’d rented to Stanley, she had also done background checks on Cody, since he was paying most of Stanley’s rent. In addition to no criminal record, he had excellent credit. “I’m safe here.”
Tammy Ingles picked up a magazine from the old chest in the sitting area at the end of the kitchen. She waved it back and forth in front of her glistening face. Despite the heat, the beautician’s makeup was perfect, just like the artful curls in her colorfully streaked hair. “You’re not safe anymore.”
“I might be in danger of melting,” Serena said. The repairman wasn’t able to come out for a few days, so she had no relief from the heat. Though it didn’t seem quite as hot in the house since Cody had left.
He had been gone for hours. How long had the Hotshots meeting been? Or had the fire call kept him occupied?
Or a woman?
A pang of jealousy struck her heart. But she drew in a breath and reminded herself his seeing someone else would be for the best. She needed Cody’s money more than his fleeting attention.
“You have to stay strong,” Fiona said. “Don’t let him melt you.”
“Him?” she asked. “I was talking about the broken air conditioner.”
“Better the AC be broken than your heart,” Fiona warned her.
Her heart was breaking, but the lawsuit—not a man—was the cause. However, she hadn’t mentioned the lawsuit to her friends. There was nothing they could do to help her. Neither of the women had the kind of money she needed.
“What are you talking about?” she asked Fiona.
“Cody Mallehan,” Fiona said. “Wyatt told me he’s moved in here.”
“Is that why you two stopped in to visit?” She’d been happy to see her friends for a few reasons. She missed them. She was usually so busy with the house and her boarders that she didn’t get to see them as much as she liked. She’d also welcomed the distraction from her worries about the house and from her preoccupation with her new boarder.
“You don’t get to town much,” Tammy said.
She didn’t get to town, but the town seemed to come to her—with the gossip her boarders and her friends brought back to her. A smile pulled up the corners of her mouth. “You’ve mentioned him to me before,” she reminded them. “And even if you hadn’t, you don’t think I could figure out for myself what a womanizer he is?”
Fiona groaned. “He already hit on you.”
Tammy snorted. “Of course, he hit on her. He’s Cody. He hits on you and Avery all the time—even though you’re with his friends.”
“He does that just to irritate Wyatt and Dawson,” Fiona said.
“He does it because he can’t help but flirt with any female with a pulse,” Tammy said.
Tammy would understand that behavior; she had a reputation of being quite the flirt herself. Serena suspected this was because of Tammy’s awkward teens. Now that she’d lost the weight and cleared up her complexion, their brunette friend enjoyed male attention. But with Tammy it was mostly just flirting. Apparently Cody did more than just flirt.
Serena chuckled. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t take his attention personally? He’s going to hit on Mrs. Gulliver too? She is pretty cute.”
Tammy smiled. “Don’t you love the pink streaks I put in her hair?”
“She loves them, too,” Serena assured the stylist. “She’s been talking about adding some purple ones.”
Tammy clapped her hands together. “That’s great. She’s eighty-six and open to change. When are you going to let me change your hair?”
Serena shrugged. “I don’t have time.”
But she actually kept it long and straight, because it reminded her of how her mother always wore her hair.
“Exactly,” Tammy said. “You’re too busy to deal with all that hair. Let me cut it off for you.”
“Hell no!” a deep voice exclaimed. Cody rushed into the kitchen as if ready to throw himself between Serena and a pair of scissors. “That would be a crime.”
Wyatt sauntered in behind his friend. “You’re a firefighter, not a cop,” he reminded Cody. Then he pulled his fiancée into his arms and planted a big kiss on her—as if he hadn’t seen her in days, instead of hours.
Serena felt that pang of jealousy again; she was envious of her friend. She wanted that kind of love—that kind of connection.
Cody was here. Staying in the same house. And he apparently liked her hair. But he wasn’t looking for love. Even without her friends’ warnings, she would have recognized that.
“Cutting hair is not a crime,” Tammy said.
“Cutting her hair would be,” he insisted. And he reached out as if to finger one of the long strands. But he caught himself and pulled his hand back to his side.
Serena’s face heated with embarrassment that she and her hair had become the topic of conversation. “What I decide to do about my hair is unimportant,” she said. “Have you learned anything more about the arsonist?”
Hopefully they’d caught him. She couldn’t get over how close she had come to losing her home in the last big fire. She gazed around the kitchen at the cabinets she and Mama had stripped and re-stained a rich chocolate color, several shades lighter than the oak floor they’d also refinished. There was no part of the house—structure, contents or residents—that Serena and her mother hadn’t cared for.
“Yes,” Fiona chimed in, “do you have any leads yet?”
Wyatt sighed and shook his head.
And Cody clenched his jaw so tightly a muscle twitched in his cheek. They were clearly troubled that they hadn’t caught the guy yet.
Serena’s nurturing instincts—inherited from Mama—kicked in and she turned toward the refrigerator. “I saved you some dinner,” she said. “There’s enough for everyone.” She pulled out the fried chicken and potato salad she’d made earlier.
Fiona groaned. “If I didn’t have an appointment to try on wedding gowns, I’d take you up on that offer. But I need to watch what I’m eating.”
“No, you don’t,” Wyatt said as his hand slid over the curve of his fiancée’s hip. “You’re perfect just as you are.”
The envy kicked in again. But she couldn’t be jealous of her friend. Fiona deserved her happiness.
Tammy emitted a wistful sigh. “You two make me sick.” It was clear she wanted what they had, too.
Cody was the only one who didn’t seem envious. His focus was on the chicken instead. He pulled a leg from the bowl she’d set on the counter. But he looked at her as he bit through the crispy coating. Then he moaned with pleasure.
That moan had her stomach muscles clenching in reaction.
“I can heat it up,” she offered.
He shook his head. “It’s perfect just as it is.”
Somehow she didn’t think they were talking about the chicken anymore. But before he could clarify, other boarders entered the kitchen. Mr. Stehouwer hobbled into the room with his walker. With a big grin, he greeted all the young people. Stanley bounded in with Annie—both bustling with energy.
She was going to have a time keeping that dog out of the house. But she loved the kitchen being as full of people as it had been when her grandmother had been alive, when she’d had so much family living there.
She wanted to fill it with family again. She had to find a way to hang on to the house.
She wasn’t going to find the answer in the wicked glint in Cody’s green eyes. Even though the rent he paid for himself and for Stanley would fix the air-conditioning unit, it wasn’t enough. She had to find a way to pay off that lawsuit and keep her family legacy.
4 (#ulink_41f73abe-48ec-59dc-a58a-fe75de72910e)
FOR THE PAST HOUR Cody had watched Serena charm and entertain everyone in her home. Everyone but him. Besides feeding him leftovers, she had pretty much ignored him. He wasn’t used to women ignoring him unless they had fallen for one of his friends instead. But other women—single women—went out of their way to flirt with him and get his attention. Not that he gave them much.
During his couple of years as a Hotshot, he’d learned that significant others didn’t last in this profession. The divorce rate was high among Hotshots because of all the time they spent away from home. So there was no point in his getting involved with anyone. He had to stay single.
Maybe Serena wasn’t single. Sure, she wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t involved with someone. But hadn’t Wyatt said something about her being too busy with the boardinghouse to socialize much? Had he been talking about her friendships or romantic relationships?
Cody was curious about her. More than he should be. Sure, Dawson had offered Cody his place. But the US Forest Service cabin didn’t come with the fried chicken he’d just eaten. Or the creamy potato salad or homemade rolls.
Alone now in one of the second-floor bathrooms, he pulled off his shirt and patted his stomach. He had eaten too much. But he was still hungry. Not for food, but for the woman who’d cooked it.
She was beautiful—even more so when she had been so animated with her other boarders and guests. She’d joked and laughed and she’d even flirted a little bit—with everyone but him. He’d gotten a little irritated then, maybe even jealous.
No. He wasn’t the jealous type. That was probably just indigestion from overeating. Although he worked out as strenuously as the other guys on the team, he wasn’t as careful about what he ate. That might have to change if he lived with Serena for very long. He reached for the button on his jeans and pulled it free. His jeans were tight—not because of what he’d eaten, but because he couldn’t stop thinking about Serena.
About that ice cube sliding down her throat to disappear between her full breasts. About what she would look like wearing nothing at all.
His cock was hard and aching for release. Maybe he should have gone into town to find someone who could relieve some of the tension in his body. But, just like thinking about Serena, that also would have been a mistake.
He pulled aside the lacy curtain and vinyl liner. Then he twisted the faucet to cold. If he wanted to sleep, he’d probably have to take a cold shower, so thoughts of her long curtain of black hair didn’t keep him awake.
With the water still running cold, he stepped inside the tub and pulled the curtain closed. But the porcelain was slippery, ridiculously slippery, almost as if... His foot flew across the slick surface and sent him tumbling. His head struck the tile wall. Black spots obscured his vision and something dripped into his eye. It was too thick and sticky to be water.
He was bleeding. He reached up to touch his head, but his limbs were tangled beneath him in the slick tub. As if...as if it was covered in oil. He struggled to move, but his vision blurred more until he couldn’t see at all. And consciousness slipped away.
* * *
SERENA HAD JUST undressed when she heard the crash. The sound came from the second floor.
But she heard no shout. No movement at all. All she heard was water running.
She pulled on a thin robe and then hurried down the stairwell. Mr. Tremont had left that morning with an overnight bag and Stanley had taken Annie for a walk, so there was no one else on the second floor. Except for Cody.
Her pulse quickened, but her footsteps slowed as she approached the door to the bathroom. She hesitated a long moment before lifting her hand to knock. She couldn’t just walk in on him in the shower.
After that crash she’d heard, she had to make certain that he was all right, though. It was her responsibility as the landlady.
So she knocked again. Louder.
Still no reply.
“Hello?” she called out. “Are you okay?”
No one answered her. Had he fallen and gotten hurt?
“Cody?” she called his name. But she didn’t expect a reply now. She gripped the knob and easily turned it. The door was unlocked. She drew in a deep breath and pushed open the door.
Water sprayed out of the showerhead, flying around the room and across the floor. The rod had been knocked down, the curtain and liner tangled beneath the naked body lying in the tub.
She gasped and hurried forward, but her bare feet slipped on the wet floor. She caught herself on the edge of the tub, so that she didn’t fall on top of him. Hand shaking, she turned off the water, which was running cold.
“Cody!”
He didn’t move. And blood streaked down his handsome face from a cut on his forehead. Calling upon the nursing training she hadn’t quite completed, Serena reached for his wrist and closed her fingers lightly around it. His skin was cold, but his pulse beat steadily beneath her fingers. His chest—so muscular with only a light dusting of golden hair—rose and fell as he breathed. That was good.
He didn’t need CPR. Then his pulse increased—pounding faster and harder. She glanced at his face to find his green-eyed gaze focused on her.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “What happened?” This was definitely no trick to get her inside the bathroom while he was naked. He was hurt. He was bleeding and his eyes looked dazed.
He just stared at her as if he couldn’t hear. Or couldn’t understand.
“I’m going to call 911,” she said. He needed a doctor. He obviously had a head injury—a concussion or worse. But when she started to move away, he caught her, his hand wrapping tightly around her wrist.
He hadn’t lost his strength, despite being hurt. And the cut and swelling bump on his head didn’t detract from his good looks.
He was so handsome it really wasn’t fair. His blond hair was slick against his head and nearly as dark as the shadow forming on his strong jaw. And his body...
Her mouth dried, and she struggled to swallow the lump of desire filling her throat. He was masculine perfection—every muscle defined in his arms and in his chest and down the rippling washboard of his abdomen. Her gaze dropped lower to his long cock. As she watched, it began to grow even longer as it swelled and hardened.
But he was the one who murmured, “You’re so damn beautiful.”
She was surprised that he could see her at all. He’d obviously been knocked out cold when he’d fallen.
“You need medical attention,” she said as she tried to tug her wrist free.
But he held on tightly, pulling her down so that she dropped to her knees beside the tub. Then he murmured, “I need your attention.”
“Cody,” she said in protest.
But he moved his other hand into her hair, pulling her head down. And his mouth covered hers. He kissed her with a passion she’d never experienced before.
His lips glided across hers. Then his tongue slipped out, swiping across her bottom lip, tasting her.
She gasped at the delicious sensation. His teeth replaced his tongue as he nipped gently on her bottom lip.
A moan rumbled in her throat. She wanted this—this physical contact. She needed it. It had been so long...
With the house and the lawsuit, she hadn’t had any time for dating. But maybe she didn’t need to date. Maybe she only needed a physical release. Cody could give her that. But then what would happen when he got bored? She would probably lose him and maybe even Stanley as boarders.
Men like Cody Mallehan always got bored.
Unfortunately they were never boring. His kiss ignited a new excitement in her. Her heart raced. Her skin tingled. She wanted him.
His fingers tangled in her hair as he held her head still for his kiss. And he kept kissing her—moving his lips across hers while teasing her with the tip of his tongue.
Just his kiss had her trembling as desire overwhelmed her. Passion heated her blood, had her breasts swelling, her nipples tightening. She felt the pull from their sensitive tips to her core.
One of his hands moved from her hair. His fingers trailed down the side of her neck and then lower—inside the opening of her robe.
“I’ve been so jealous,” he murmured.
“What?” There was no one in her life for him to envy.
His fingers slid down between her breasts. “I’ve been so jealous...of that damn ice cube.”
She shivered as sensations raced through her.
“The ice cube was colder than my touch,” he said, misinterpreting the cause of her shiver.
She was beyond hot for him. But his fingers were cold. And she remembered that he’d been lying under the almost icy spray of water. She reached out and touched the bump on his head. The blood was no longer flowing, but it continued to trickle from the cut.
“You might need stitches,” she said, “and a CT scan.” She’d taken enough nursing courses to know the consequences of a serious concussion. He could develop a bleed and swelling on the brain.
“I need you.” He moved in the tub, as if trying to get out, but he slipped again. “What the hell...”
“Don’t,” she said. “You shouldn’t try to move. You might have broken a bone.”
“It’s not broken,” he said.
She glanced down at his erection. And a wistful gasp escaped from her lips. He was so big. So hard...
She wanted to touch him. “You’re hurt,” she reminded them both.
He groaned. “I’m hurting...”
“Let me call for help—”
But he had her wrist again. When he tugged on it, though, he slipped and inadvertently jerked Serena into the bathtub with him. She tumbled down on top of his naked body. Her silky robe and her skin slid over his.
Her pulse raced. She gripped his arms, trying to steady herself to get up, but instead of pushing away, she held on to him. “Cody...”
He groaned again and touched his fingers to the bump on his head. He was hurting. Really hurting.
And she was thinking only of how amazing his body felt against hers. His cock pushed against her hip, pulsing like her heartbeat. She wanted to touch it, taste it...
But she couldn’t act on her desire—for so many reasons. She reached for the tub instead of him, trying to use the porcelain for leverage. But her hand slipped. The surface wasn’t just slick from the water. There was something on it—something oily.
She understood now why Cody had fallen. He could have been killed.
5 (#ulink_3ce94019-9e3f-544f-b799-331209bc7ecf)
HIS BODY ACHED with desire. Cody had never wanted anyone more than he wanted Serena Beaumont. His head ached, too. Actually it pounded. He grimaced at the pain and tried to pry open his eyes. The light was so bright, though, that he groaned. Then a dark shadow, leaning over him, mercifully blocked the light.
“Serena,” he murmured.
The shadow chuckled—a deep, masculine-sounding chuckle. It definitely wasn’t Serena leaning over his naked body.
Cody shifted against the bathroom floor. His butt slid over the wet porcelain tiles, producing a squeaking noise.
The chuckle turned into a loud, echoing laugh. “Jeez, Cody...”
He recognized that voice, and heat rushed to his face.
“Owen, what the hell are you doing here?” he asked. The last thing he remembered was stepping into the shower. How had he wound up on the floor? The only images that flashed through his mind were of Serena, in a thin robe.
Her nipples had pushed against the silky fabric, and then the robe had parted, revealing honey-toned curves...
Was that just a dream, like all the others he’d had about her since they’d first met months ago? But her skin and lips had felt so real.
It was almost as if he could taste her still, the sweetness of her mouth.
A light flashed in his eyes—just a small beam, but it felt like it was shining through his pupil and piercing his brain. “Damn it! Damn it!” He batted at the flashlight. “Shut it off!”
“I am trying to check you out,” Owen said.
Since Cody was sprawled naked across the bathroom floor, it shouldn’t have been too difficult. At least he wasn’t hard anymore—not now that he’d realized it was Owen leaning over him and not Serena.
Where was Serena? He peered around the white-and-blue bathroom, but he and Owen were alone. Had she ever been in there?
“Who called you?”
Had Stanley found him? That poor kid.
“Your landlady,” Owen said. “You kept murmuring her name.”
“Serena found me?” he asked. So he hadn’t imagined it. She had been there while he was naked. “And she called you?” She knew Wyatt because she was friends with Fiona. But Owen?
“She called 911,” Owen replied. “Remember, I’m a paramedic, too?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know that,” Cody said. Fortunately Dawson wasn’t working with him tonight; the assistant superintendent was too busy helping Zimmer try to catch the arsonist to go out on medical calls.
Hell, maybe Dawson was in the room too, for all Cody knew. His eyesight was fuzzy, making it hard for him to focus visually and mentally. Owen was still leaning over him with that damn light. The guy was so big—broad-shouldered and tall—he could have been blocking Dawson from Cody’s blurry vision.
“What the hell happened?” he asked.
“Don’t you remember?” Owen asked, and there was concern in his deep voice and blue eyes. He was older than Cody—not just in years but experience. Cody couldn’t imagine what Owen had seen overseas, but the guy had come back with scars—one was visible, running down the left side of his face. He suspected there were more.
Cody shook his head and flinched as pain reverberated throughout his skull. His head was pounding so badly that he was surprised he could remember anything—even his own name. Well, the name the young couple had given him after they’d adopted Baby John Doe.
The last thing he remembered was turning on the water to cold because of her.
“You must have slipped and fallen,” Owen surmised.
He fought through the pain to make a cocky reply. “You think?”
“You don’t remember.”
“No.” But then he recalled the porcelain had been so slippery. Why?
“Where are your clothes?” Owen asked.
“Clothes?” he repeated. He was still struggling to focus. Where had he left them?
“Some of the nurses have probably already seen you naked, but you should still get dressed before I take you in,” Owen said.
“In where?”
“To the hospital,” his friend patiently replied.
He was once again glad Serena hadn’t called Wyatt or Dawson. He doubted either of them would have been nearly as patient with Cody’s befuddled mind.
“Why would I go to the hospital?” he asked as he tried to remember how he’d wound up on the bathroom floor. Had he fallen out of the tub?
Serena wouldn’t have been strong enough to move him. It must have been Owen; the guy was huge. How long had Cody been unconscious?
“You need to have a CT,” Owen said. “I think you have a concussion.”
That would explain the headache and memory lapse. But what about his fantasies about Serena? He’d had those long before he’d ever hit his head. What was wrong with him that he couldn’t get the black-haired woman off his mind?
* * *

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