Flirting with Fire (Hot in Chicago #1) (11 page)

“Unless his new honey is on the beach, I think he’ll be okay,” Alex said.

“What’s this?” Luke pulled his long, lean body
upright and grabbed Gage in a headlock. “You’re delivering the package to one address now?”

“No packages are being delivered,” Gage replied patiently, extracting himself from Luke’s grasp. His cheeks were flushed and the downturn of his lips emphasized his annoyance. “Later, family unit.”

With a loose-limbed swagger, he ambled toward the water while every woman in the vicinity looked on appreciatively. A few guys, as well, including Firefighter Jacob Scott, a blond hulk with a neck thick enough to categorize him as genus bovine.

“I know, right?” Alex said to Kinsey sotto voce, with a significant glance in Jacob’s direction. “Guy’s so far in the closet he’s sucking dick in Narnia.”

Kinsey’s laugh drew a sharp look from Luke, which she ignored. But there was no ignoring how he sprang to his feet with a catlike grace and headed to the volleyball court about twenty feet off. In some unspoken male ritual, Wyatt, Jacob, and Derek followed him.

About time. Oiled-up men flexing rock-hard muscles while they pounded a ball over a net? Kinsey had been waiting for it all day, though she was clearly not alone in her interest. Amused, she watched as assorted women gravitated to the court and the very fine testosterone showcase on display.

“Put your tongues back in your mouths,
bishes
,” Alex muttered. She handed off a beer to Kinsey from a nearby cooler and settled back in her chair. “Hair of the dog.”

The guitar strains of the Pixies’ “Here Comes Your Man” comingled with the shouts of kids playing Frisbee and splashing in the lake. Sitting in comfortable silence with Alex, Kinsey felt truly at ease for the first
time since she had moved to Chicago. So Alex was never going to be her shopping-and-makeup gal pal, but Kinsey enjoyed a real affinity with this woman who got it from all sides in one of the toughest jobs on the planet.

“Wyatt freaks me out,” Kinsey said after a few swigs, needing to lay it out there.

Alex laughed. “He’s a pussycat, but I can see your point. He used to be chattier when Dad and Logan were around.”

“I can’t imagine how hard it must have been.”

“It was hell, but Logan’s death in particular hit Wy and Grace hardest.”

“Who’s Grace?”

“Logan’s wife.” Hurt tightened the lines of Alex’s mouth. “After the funeral, she moved back to be with her folks in Boston. Too many reminders here. She wanted to forget, and there’s no forgetting around us. We refuse to be quiet. We want to talk about them, remember how Dad told these long, seemingly pointless stories that always managed to get back on track just when you thought he’d lost it. Remember how bad a singer Logan was, but he was the first one up singing ‘Country Roads’ on karaoke night. Keep them close, you know.”

She chugged her beer and Kinsey took that as a prompt to do the same. She needed to swallow down the emotion clotting like custard in her throat.

“So,” Alex said. “You doin’ my brother yet?”

Kinsey narrowly avoided a spit take, only to have the beer go down the wrong way. So much for the heart-to-heart. “Nope,” she choked out around her coughing. “He sees me as the enemy.” Even his body
trapping hers against his car this morning was more adversarial than seductive. Okay, adversarial
and
seductive.

“Besides, right now, he’s my job. While I’m in a position to recommend his return to work, I can’t be—”

“Giving comfort to the enemy?” Alex looked over at Luke, her brow furrowed. “We’ve been worried about him. He hasn’t been interested in anyone since that bitch fucked him over. Until you.”

“How long were they together?”

“Three years, eight months of it married. Their divorce was finalized just over six months ago.” She grinned. “Maybe you could both rebound with each other.”

“Or off each other,” muttered Kinsey. Something they were doing a whole lot of already. Violently clashing and bruising, which turned her on unbearably. “We’d have to get to the point where he sees me as more than the mayor’s lackey.”

“Oh, we’re
waaay
past that. Now he’s at the point of ‘What’s goin’ on inside those bikini bottoms, Miss Taylor?’ ”

That drew Kinsey’s reluctant laugh. Time for a subject change. “What about you? Are your bikini bottoms seeing any action?”

“Just my washer-dryer.”

“You don’t date?”

Sighing, Alex slumped further in her chair. “Want to know how many dates I’ve been on in the last six months?”

The poor thing. “Hey, that’s okay. Since my ex, I haven’t exactly been whooping it up on the singles scene myself.”

“Twenty-five.”

Kinsey gaped. Surely she hadn’t heard that right. “Twenty-five dates . . . in six months?”

“Yup, and not one of them a repeat offender. Guys are either intimidated by my all-around awesomeness, or I exude man repellant from every pore. Can’t figure out which.”

She stood, all va-va-voom curves in a stunning five-ten package. How was this woman not cleaning up on the man circuit? On a smile, she jerked her head toward the volleyball courts.

“C’mon, K, time to make like a tampon commercial. Let’s show the boys how it’s done.”

K
insey in her power suit was one thing, and in second-skin jeans that molded to her curvy ass, she was quite another. Now Luke was seeing yet a different side: bikini-bombshell Kinsey. Red, just like his California beach girl fantasy, and every part of his anatomy was enjoying the view.

“Kinsey, you’re the guest, so you get to choose your partner,” Luke said, curious to see how she would play it.

She wanted to win. He could see it written all over her face, which meant teaming up with one of the guys was her best option. Wy and Derek had already bowed out, leaving Jacob Scott, who was actually pretty good at volleyball.

Luke was better.

Kinsey thrust out her hand to Jacob. “Hey, partner.”

Luke turned to hide his smile, but not before he caught her challenging one. Not only did she want to win, but she wanted to beat him. Game on.

Ten minutes later, Luke was reassessing the situation. Kinsey was a good player—it was clear she had spent some time on the golden California beaches spiking the ball—but Jacob wasn’t giving her room to breathe. The guy was so competitive he was calling for every ball that came into the back court, even if Kinsey was already there. Shoving her out of the way, too, which had Luke grinding his teeth like a trash compactor. Defending her wouldn’t win him any favors, and frankly she could take it. But damn if it didn’t rile his Irish side, which was usually the calmer part of him. The Cuban half was always up for revolution.

Stranger still, Kinsey seemed deflated, as though letting Jacob wear the pants was the best option for keeping the peace. The set finished with Luke and Alex coming out on top twenty-one points to twelve. He grabbed some water from a cooler and walked over to Kinsey.

“Here. Keep hydrated.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, taking the bottle from him. Their fingers brushed and electricity fired through him, enough to power the Navy Pier Ferris wheel he could spot off in the distance.

“Why’re you lettin’ Jacob push you around?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t find fighting with my teammates to be all that productive. If he’s not going to work with me, I’m not going to waste the energy.”

Was that a dig at Luke’s unwillingness to surrender his life and image to Kinsey Taylor’s molding hands? He tried to lighten the mood. “Thought maybe you were second-guessing your girl power and decided that men are just better at ball sports after all.”

She downed half the bottle of water in one long gulp that made her throat bob. He wanted to lick that throat and move on down.

“The sun must have gone to your head, Almeida. You’re usually a little sharper with your button pushing.”

So, not his most subtle comment. But he didn’t like when Kinsey played less than 100 percent. Backing down didn’t suit her at all.

“We’re switching up. Alex, you’re with Jacob.” He turned to Kinsey. “If you can’t beat me, sweetheart, looks like you’ll have to join me.” Before she could respond, he walked back to the other side of the net, his back warm not from the sun but from her heated gaze.

“You look like you might be better in the back court,” he said to her when she trotted over twenty seconds later. “You’re a good mover.”

A grin broke wide at his compliment. “I’m not afraid of getting pummeled in the face. I survived three brothers and two nose breaks in my teens. You’d hardly notice, right?”

He took that as an invitation to tip her chin up and examine her fine features. That nose of hers was perfect and so were her golden-umber eyes, filled with uncommon intelligence and determination.

“Looks like you had a good plastic surgeon.”

Sexy offense curved those beautiful lips. “I’m all real, Luke. Every single inch.”

This was more like the Kinsey he had come to expect. Smart-tart and giving as good as she got.

“You ready to kick some firefighter ass, Cali girl?”

She nodded and took a part-crouched position in the front court. Those beautiful back dimples above her gorgeous ass winked at him. Best. View. Ever.

“Let’s do this.”

For the next fifteen minutes, they played like winning was more important than breathing. Watching Kinsey punch that ball—once in Jacob’s incredulous face—was about the sexiest thing he’d been privileged to witness in all his days. Every now and then, her bikini bottoms would fail in their objective: to cover completely her made-for-his-hands ass. Or perhaps that
was
the wily objective. Give him glimpses of that curve where her thigh met the round of her perfect ass and, in turn, give him a whole new appreciation for the female form.

Together, they were dynamite on the sand. He’d known they would be. The sooner this probationary shit was sorted, the better, because if they were a tenth as good a force between the sheets as they were on the volleyball court, it was going to be unlike anything he had ever experienced.

Soon they were celebrating every won point with a high-five.

Then a hip check.

Then a light mutual pat on each other’s asses.

And when she sealed the game-winning point with a powerful spike, his reaction was instinctive. Up high, then down low with his arms under her gorgeous rear.

Kinsey linked her arms around his neck, squeezing
in closer so she could whisper in his ear. “See what happens when you work with me, Luke? Teamwork is so much more productive, don’t you think?”

He shrugged, which was harder than it looked with a hot woman wrapped around his waist, her breasts smashed to his chest. The heat between her legs pulsed an erotic rhythm against his abs.

“Just a game, baby,” he said, his voice low, rough.

“It’s never just a game.”

The truth of that lanced through him. For all their snarky quips and joking foreplay, it had never felt like a game. Something unfurled in his chest. Something warm and unexpected that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Never, not ever, had he wanted a woman like this.

But in the span of a thunderous heartbeat, the mood shifted. Her whiskey-colored eyes flicked over his shoulder and widened. Sensing something was off, Luke lowered her to the hot sand.

“Still doing anything to win, Kinsey?”

Luke turned to the source of the voice and found a sandy-haired, stocky guy of average height. He wore a tee that proclaimed his affiliation with Northwestern Medicine and a blonde that proclaimed him very fertile indeed. As big as she was, the woman had to be expecting twins.

“David,” Kinsey said, almost choking on the name. “What are you doing here?”

So this was Stupid Fucking David, the chump who had dumped. He threw an arm around his pregnant companion and pulled her close.

“We’re meeting Natalie’s family further down the beach.” David waved a hand casually to some distant spot.

Kinsey’s gaze had magnetized to the woman’s swollen belly, made even more conspicuous by her revealing bikini.

“I hadn’t realized . . . you’re . . . you’re—”

“—going to be a father,” the guy finished smugly.

Aw, shit. Silence reigned while the emotional landscape was reshuffled.

“This . . . this is Luke.” She turned to him, her face drained of all color, eyes vacant and unseeing. “Luke, this is David and . . . Natalie.”

Yeah, got it. Dave the Douche, who she upended her life and hauled her sweet ass cross-country for. What a cluster. Knowing that Kinsey needed his protection and not caring that she might not want it, Luke placed his palm on the small of her back.

It wasn’t enough. He inched his fingers below the lip of her bikini bottoms. Staked his claim.

Kinsey’s thoughts were so loud they might cause a tsunami out on the lake. She was doing the math, God love her, and it was adding up to one whopping great negative in the ledger of,
I got screwed
.

Do
n’t ask, baby. Do. Not. Ask.

“When are you due?”

“October 3,” Natalie said blithely. Was she really that oblivious to the fact she had stolen another woman’s man? That while she was having her fun and cooking up that bun in her oven, Kinsey was planning a life with the sperm donor?

Proud papa had the decency to look sheepish. “We should talk, Kinsey. I feel we haven’t reached the necessary closure.”

“Not sure that’s a good idea, David. Closure for me can only mean grievous bodily harm to you.”

“Christ, you hate to lose. You can’t stand that you didn’t get to end this.”

Kinsey positively vibrated under Luke’s claiming palm. “You know what I can’t stand? Not that you cheated on me, which I long suspected, or that you knocked up a nurse in a supply closet or wherever this happened”—she waved a shaky hand at Natalie, who was
finally
red-faced with embarrassment—“but that you didn’t have the common decency to call and let me know that we were over before I fucking moved here!”

“Our relationship was on the skids for a while. I tried to tell you—”

“Just not hard enough. Maybe you were getting your miniature dick sucked by Blondie here and it slipped your mind.” She stepped forward, but Luke tightened his hold, restraining her from doing something she might later regret.