Never Too Hot (Hot Shots: Men of Fire #3)(37)
Author: Bella Andre

But he was already turning her in his strong hands, forcing her to see something she wished she could hide from forever — just as she’d forced him to see it in himself the night before.

God, how she hated this fear. So she forced herself to look.

And lost her breath.

“I look so small compared to you,” she whispered.

With Connor behind her, all six-feet-plus of him, she looked tiny. She’d never before thought that word in relation to herself. But he was so big, so broad, that instead of taking note of her bumps and lumps, she saw her br**sts, heavy with arousal, the way her skin glowed from the afternoon sun that covered her on the porch as she painted, the fact that her lush curves were the perfect contrast to Connor’s hard muscles.

“Tell me what else you see.”

“A woman I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.”

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

Looking herself straight in the eye, she tried out the word in her head first to make sure it was really true.

“Yes.”

“Let me show you just how beautiful you are, Ginger. Let me love you.”

The four-letter word exploded in her head, filled her completely.

There was no longer any room for doubt. Not with Connor seeing her beauty like no one else ever had. Not when he wanted so desperately to make her see it too.

It would be easy, so much easier just to tell herself that she was confusing sex with love like she had with her ex-husband. But she wasn’t that naive young girl anymore.

She was a woman who knew her own mind, a woman who knew her own heart.

And yes, oh yes, she loved him.

Turning back around in his arms, she pulled him against her and then she was on the bed and he was sliding into her in one thick stroke, working to heal her with his body as she’d tried to heal him with hers.

His name on her lips as they rocked together, she got lost in the slip and slide of their bodies, the delicious friction of his skin on hers, the way he filled her so completely.

And when he sent her reeling over the edge it was the most natural thing in the world for her to take him with her.

She’d fallen asleep in his arms, utterly content to listen to his heart beat beneath her ear as her eyes closed and she let exhaustion take her. Now she woke up alone in the bed as the sun was setting to the sound of the phone ringing again, alone in the bed again.

In the end she spent a good hour fielding phone calls from not only Connor’s brother, but a dozen of his friends on his hotshot crew. So many people who cared about him. So many people who wanted to be there for him.

For every call she picked up, another voice mail came in. His mother sounded like she’d been crying and Ginger was selfishly glad that call hadn’t come through. She wouldn’t have known what to say. Just when she thought the lull in calls might mean that the rush was over, the phone rang one more time.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you again. This is Connor’s father. Is he there?”

She thought about everything Connor had told her about his father, flashing next to the letters Isabel had written him and the way she’d reacted to seeing the faded pages again on the bar stool in the diner. Ginger hadn’t even met the man, and yet, strangely, she felt that she knew him so well already.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. MacKenzie. He’s out, but I promise to let him know the minute he walks in that you called.”

“Please,” Connor’s father said, “just tell him I’m coming. I’m taking the red-eye out of San Francisco.”

He abruptly hung up and she held on to the phone for several moments before realizing she was staring blankly out at the sun setting over the lake through the kitchen window, the receiver still in her hand. How, she wondered, was Connor going to react to his father’s arrival?

No question, Isabel was going to freak. Instead of three weeks to prepare she’d have eight hours.

Ginger called the diner, but when no one picked up she knew they must be running like crazy tonight.

She was about to leave a message telling her friend to call. Tonight. Whenever. But just as she was about to hang up, she decided, no, it wasn’t fair not to just spit it out.

“Andrew’s coming, Isabel. He’s taking the red-eye out tonight. I figured you’d want to know.”

She left the same message on Isabel’s home phone, and then, as she hung up the phone for what felt like the millionth time, she saw a flash of light out on the beach in front of the house.

Someone was out there with a flashlight. Looking out the window, she recognized the dark figure as Connor, but couldn’t figure out what he was dragging behind him. A hose, she quickly guessed, although she couldn’t figure out why.

A couple of minutes later when she got down to the sand she had to speak loudly to be heard over the sound of water spraying out of the hose.

“Connor? Why are you hosing down the boat?

“They’re shooting the fireworks off tonight.”

She knew July fifth was the makeup day for fireworks if it rained on the Fourth. Still, she didn’t understand what any of that had to do with what he was doing right now.

“But everything is still wet from the storm. It didn’t stop raining until late this morning.”

“You can never be too careful.”

Finally, she got it. For all that he was trying to pretend everything was fine, that he could roll with the punches, no problem, he couldn’t let go.

Fire hadn’t just burned his hands. It was as if it were burning him up from the inside too.

She knew exactly what she needed to do to help him, had known all along that he needed her to help him accept what had happened. “You got a lot of phone calls while you were gone.”

“Who from?”

As easy as his voice seemed, she couldn’t miss the slight change in the tenor of his voice.

“Your brother called again, wanted to let you know your friends from the crew would be calling soon. And they did call, Connor. So many of them I can’t keep track of their names, but I wrote them down. Your mother left a message too.” She paused. “And your father, he called again too.”

She waited for him to respond, but when all he did was nod and continue spraying water over the already soaked wood and canvas, she said, “He wanted me to tell you he’s coming here. On the red-eye. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me?”

Finally, a reaction. “Turn the hose off, Connor. Talk to me. Please.”

He did put the hose down, and she was filled with hope that maybe, just maybe, he was finally ready to take his first step toward healing.

“Come swimming with me, Ginger.”

Her head spun at the abrupt switch, but also from being pulled back into his arms. Because now that she knew she loved him everything felt so different.