Flirting with Fire (Hot in Chicago #1) (17 page)

Find a comfortable position.

Hog every inch of available space.

Trap her left leg beneath his strapping thigh.

Only when the circumstances were to his liking would he begin the interrogation.

Lying on the Serta Sedgwick Euro Top, she had started with Jax, her ortho surgeon brother who would happily break Luke’s arm if he hurt his baby sister, then fix it up for him (Hippocratic oath, she had reasoned with a smile). As they repositioned themselves on the next bed, Cole, the only one of her brothers to follow Dad into the military as a JAG, got the treatment before she rounded off with Tate. He was her favorite brother, though she would die a painful death before she ever told him as much. A champion skier, he acquired weird levels of fame every four years during the Winter Olympics before fading into obscurity in between.

What would her brothers think of Luke? They’d always been wary of David, who was too precious for them, reluctant even to play touch football over Thanksgiving because of his fragile cardiac surgeon’s hands. All the Taylors were men’s men and couldn’t abide any behavior that whiffed of wimpery.

She suspected Luke would pass muster with flying colors.

Not that they would ever meet each other. It would never come to that, because this whole thing was just good, dirty, casual fun. But even as she reprimanded her treacherous mind for jumping ten steps
ahead, she couldn’t shake one indisputable fact: her father liked Luke. It disturbed her how much that disturbed her.

Two hours after they’d first entered the mattress store, Kinsey had spilled what felt like her entire life story. On the Tempur Cloud Prima, she’d shared that her mom died when she was eight. The Northfield Vista Firm bore witness to her dream to work with more interesting community causes, and maybe one day, a big political campaign.

Through it all, Luke listened, pinning her to their plush surroundings with that serious blue gaze. Hanging on every word like it was the most important thing he’d ever heard. By the time he made his mattress choice—the Riverside Plus—he knew enough to make her uneasy about the knowledge imbalance.

Now, enjoying the sunset twenty floors above Chicago’s River North neighborhood, Kinsey let herself get lost in the feel of Luke’s solid chest to her back and the comforting weight of his claiming forearm over her breast. Now it was her turn.

“You can ask me anything,” he murmured against the shell of her ear.

“Why did you spend only four years in the Marines?” She’d seen his file at city hall and, while he’d been honorably discharged, she had to wonder at his truncated service time. Getting out before the full eight was virtually impossible without an injury or kicking your CO’s head in.

“Worried my hot temper got me booted?” he asked, reading her mind.

“It did occur to me.”

He was silent for a few moments, then said, “Sean
and Logan died. Wyatt and I were both serving in different units; he was in Afghanistan, I was in Iraq. We had to make a decision about who would leave. It’s allowed under hardship rules.”

“For Gage and Alex?”

He nodded against her temple, the scratch of his rough stubble sending a thrill of sensation through her body. “They were still minors. Beck had just turned nineteen, and in the eyes of the social services that wasn’t good enough. My godfather, Larry, would have stepped in, but he was going through chemo at the time. There had to be someone else around to look after them.”

Realization struck her hard. She turned in his arms, needing to see him face-to-face. “Or they would have ended up back in the system.”

“Alex had been adopted by Sean and Mary and she was seventeen, so her status was secure. But Gage . . .” He paused. “He was sixteen. Too old to be fostered by anyone else and too young to be without an official guardian. He would have ended up in a group home.”

She heard the pain in his voice. It wasn’t just that he’d be in the home . . .

“You were worried he’d be bullied.”

He nodded. “Gage has always known he was gay. You should have seen him when he arrived at the house, Kinsey. This scrawny, crazy-eyed ten-year-old waltzed into the kitchen with Sean’s hand on his shoulder, and announced, “Hey, everyone. I’m Gage and I’m a homosexual.” I mean, who does that? I’ve known countless Marines, firefighters, all manner of tough guys, and none of them can hold a candle to
that kid’s bravery. But, in that situation, without us backing him up, I’m not sure he’d have been okay.”

Her heart liquefied, and she felt like she knew him a little bit better than a moment before. It was intoxicating. “Why you and not Wyatt?”

“Wyatt was closest to Logan. Biological brothers.”

“They don’t have the same last name.”

“Same mother, different fathers. When Logan died, Wy needed to stay away from us for a while. Marines was the best place for him. Focus on the job.” He kissed her forehead, then held her gaze firmly as if he needed her to understand what he was saying. “It wasn’t some great, heroic sacrifice, Kinsey. I love them and I’d do anything for them. Besides, we’re Dempseys. It’s what we do.”

Said with Swarovski clarity, conviction in every word. Wow, she sure enjoyed those tingles that thrilled across her skin every time Luke got his family man vibe on. This guy would make some woman very lucky one day.

Not her, though. She didn’t need a man to look after her, and she had a feeling a throwback like Luke wouldn’t enjoy the kind of relationship dynamic where a woman was equal in all things. He likely wanted a wife who was happy to remain in the background, content to pump out mini Almeidas who would look so frickin’ cute in their CFD onesies.

“Can I ask something else?”

He cocked a brow. “Would there be any point in denying you?”

“How come Alex is the only one of you who was adopted?”

“Well, if you were to ask her, she’d say it was be
cause Mom and Dad loved her best.” He grinned. “With kids in foster care the preference is to return them to their birth parents, so that’s what happened for most of us through our teens. In care or with the Dempseys when our parents couldn’t cope, back with them when they were doing better. Sean and Mary tried to adopt us all, but it’s harder than you think to sever parental ties. If one parent refuses to give their kid up for whatever reason and there’s a chance they could still do the job, you’re looking at legal battles that could be drawn out forever.”

“So your parents—?”

“Still wanted me?” His barked laugh was bitter. “No. Mommie Dearest was already toast—literally—because of a crack house fire, and my father was a guy who skirted the edges of the law. I lived with my grandmother for a while, but when she couldn’t take care of me, I stayed with the Dempseys. Bio Dad was a stubborn prick who had clear ideas about ownership. And even though he had no chance of a relationship with me because he was rarely around, he wouldn’t sign on the dotted line. He died about five years ago.”

How awful for him. She stroked his shoulders, absorbing his agitation into her body.

“It was variations of the same for the others except Alex, who was a toddler when she landed at Camp Dempsey. None of us needed it signed and sealed. Sean is my father. Mary is my mother
.
” His lips brushed hers softly, then deeper, more possessively. “Of course, being a Dempsey isn’t hearts and shamrocks 24/7. Getting away from them for a day or two can be pretty fucking awesome.”

“Anytime you need a haven from your crazy family, come on over.”

He met her gaze with a warm, inviting one of his own. “Feels a little like that up here. Under the stars, a sanctuary on the roof, this pocket of peace in the city.”

With fairy-tale timing, fireworks lit up the sky over their heads.

She squeezed his shoulders. “You knew that was going to happen!”

“Not exactly, but I know the city throws a big show for the holiday. And I seem to recall promising you an explosion down here.” He brushed his thumbs under the hem of her dress, higher, higher, then over her satin panties, sending her sex into a quiver. “Never thought I’d be thankful to our illustrious mayor for anything, but it looks like the city of Chicago is cooperating to make this really special.”

It sure felt special. Perhaps it was this vulnerable place she’d been in since moving here, but she liked to think she was not hostage to her emotions—or the emotions between her legs. This connection she felt with Luke might be a right man/right now kind of thing, but it felt like more. It felt like right forever.

Danger, Kinsey Taylor!
She needed to take a baseball bat to that dangerous line of thought. Just enjoy the here and now.

Thankfully, he seemed to be on the same wavelength. Slipping his fingers to the nape of her neck, he undid the halter of her sundress and leisurely tugged it south. Feral heat darkened his eyes at the sight of her perky nipples.

Going braless had been an excellent sartorial choice.

She unbuttoned his jeans, and after some maneuvering, she took out his thick, potent erection, its skin smooth and silky hot under her touch. As he rolled the condom on and she lowered her body onto him, fireworks burst overhead while the magic of bodily connection created its own shower of sparks below.

Inching slowly, surely, she found her claim. So good, so right.

Too right.

Damn. Blinking away the sudden rush of emotion that equaled more than she wanted to deal with, she focused on a starburst in the sky. Anything to avoid that eye-to-eye connection that might send her over too quickly, or drop her into the abyss.

“Kinsey.” Clear strain underlay his words. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

Tempted to be petulant and ignore him, or even to say a resounding no—Luke Almeida was not
the boss of her—instead she closed her eyes against the onslaught of him.

“Kinsey, I want you so bad,” he whispered. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

“Luke, please—”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he groaned. “Trust that I will always have you.”

Liar.
Yet she could no more deny him than she could deny this pleasure detonating every cell into oblivion. Her eyelids fluttered open of their own accord and she sealed her gaze with his heavy-lidded one.

Unavoidable.

Necessary.

His large, hero-roughened hands kneaded her butt and guided her up and down, up and down. Slowly, intimately, tearing down every defense. Sleek and thick, he filled her body, while those terrible blue eyes filled her heart with a need for connection beyond the physical.

“That’s it, baby. Keep it there, right there. Stay with me. I’ve got you.”

And she wanted to be got. With every fluid stroke, he tapped into raw nerves of emotion. Riding him in time to that age-old rhythm, she swore they were sharing a pulse. A heart. The give and take of their rise and fall nudged her close to the edge and when he told her to come for him, she gladly obeyed and toppled over that cliff into the sweet, hot flood.

 CHAPTER FIFTEEN

F
eeling as light as air on a gorgeous Friday afternoon, Kinsey walked from city hall to the “L” on Washington to take the Red Line up to Wrigley Field. She was meeting Luke for game two of the doubleheader between the Cubs and her home team. Smiling, she adjusted her Giants cap. The competition never ended.

The city was in fine form today, its gleaming buildings reaching for the sky, its friendly natives burbling in excitement for the weekend. Up ahead, she could see the Gehry-designed band shell in Millennium Park with its billowing stainless steel ribbons, peeling back to reveal the stage. She hadn’t even begun to skim the surface of what Chicago had to offer.

Dragging herself from the bed of one sexy firefighter would be a good start.

As she passed the Hotel Burnham on the corner of Washington and State, her phone rang with a San Francisco number she didn’t recognize. A twinge of panic had her questioning if something had happened to her father or brothers.

“Hello, this is Kinsey.”

“And hello, this is Max.”

It took her a moment to recognize the voice of
Max Fordham, now a member of San Francisco’s powerful board of supervisors.

“Max! How are you?”

“Fine. Just fine.” After a few minutes playing catch-up, he got to the point. “I heard you were looking for a way back into city government here in San Francisco.”

“Wow, your hearing is excellent from all the way on the West Coast,” she teased.

He chuckled. “I’m a lot easier to work for than that megalomaniac in Chicago. Though I hear you’re handling him with your customary flair.”

“He’s just a man, Max. Easily manipulated like all of your gender.” He laughed, and she was glad he didn’t take offense at her gentle man-bash. “So, you’re about to declare on the Calderon seat?”

“State senate? No, Kinsey. I’m going straight to the top—national race in the midterms.”

Whoa, not expecting that. It was sixteen months away, but still sort of late to throw his hat in the ring of a U.S. senatorial campaign. She had assumed she’d have to wait a few years to get a bite of an apple that tasty, but to have it dropped in her lap right now was too perfect.

“Who else are you talking to?”

“The usual suspects.” He named a few people she knew in PR out in California. “But we worked well together before. I loved what you did on the breast cancer campaign here and I’ve been watching you closely for a while now. That’s the kind of social issues thinking I need on my team.”

She smiled at his somewhat hyperbolic description of their past connection. As a lowly intern during her
practicum at Berkeley, there hadn’t been much working together at all, but it had been a formative experience. He had sparked her interest in city government and in devoting her career to community-focused messaging. Communicating his platform would be so much more gratifying than what she was doing now.

But.

Things were ticking over nicely in Chicago. Spending time with Luke, making friends, gaining the mayor’s trust, goodwill she was sure would soon translate into better assignments . . .

Double but.

She had also vowed not to let her emotions trump her judgment again—which is why the next words out of her mouth were so shocking.

“Can I think about it?”

“W
here’s Mickey?”

Luke’s query was met with a chorus of “I dunnos” and those loose-boned shrugs bored teens seemed to have a patent on. Next, he dialed up the flinty gaze. The crowd, two boys and two girls in the thirteen-to-fifteen range from St. Carmen’s, gamely withstood the onslaught.

“I see him.” Wy zoomed over to where Mickey stood in a huddle with a stranger near the east entrance to Wrigley Field. Strong-armed, the kid was walked back to the group.

“Tryin’ to sell his ticket,” Wy muttered.

Jesus. “Okay, here are the rules. No sneaking off.” Luke double-glared at Mickey, who remained unfazed. “No fighting. No cursing—there are a lot of
kids here and their parents would rather teach them how to swear themselves. Got it?”

Grumble, grumble.

“You can each have one hot dog and a pop, which we’re going to buy before we take our seats.”

“What about a baseball cap?” Kevin asked, snapping his gum.

“Maybe a baseball cap.”

“A Cubs T-shirt?” Anton, pushing his luck.

“We’ll see,” Luke said because he was a soft touch. “Anything else?” He looked at Wy, whose eyebrow tweaked indiscernibly.

“Oh right. Bathroom breaks are only with me or Wyatt.”

Abby squared her shoulders. “I ain’t goin’ into no bathroom with you.”

“We’ll let you pee alone, Abs, but you’ll have an escort to the entrance.”

“Ooh, an escort,” Sharon, her pal-in-crime, said.

“I can take the girls,” Kinsey offered.

Dressed in jeans that rolled midway up her smooth, golden calves and made her ass look picture perfect, Kinsey adjusted the peak of her Giants cap. Quite deliberately, Luke was sure. The woman was clearly enjoying the prospect of the Cubbies getting whipped by her home team.

She smiled at him. Then added a cheeky wink.

Oh yeah, she was loving this.

He had invited her along because he wanted her to witness something that meant so much to him. Let her see another side of Luke Almeida, hothead fireman. Also, because he wanted to spend every minute of his spare time with her.

That’s right. Luke had officially turned sap, and the craziest part was he couldn’t have been happier about it.

“You don’t have to do that, but thanks, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” one of the boys mimicked, sending the rest of them into laughter that quickly devolved into elbow-shoving. Because that was the next logical step.

“All right, let’s do this.”

Wyatt rode point through the turnstile while Luke hung back, one eye on his charges, the other focused on protecting his girl all the way to her seat. “Thanks for hanging with us today,” he whispered in her ear.

Kinsey gave him a kiss, no less heated for being so quick. “It’s going to be fun.”

Ahead of them, Anton gave Mickey a push. Amid muttered curses and accusations that made no sense to anyone but a bunch of teenagers, Luke heaved a weary sigh.

“I’ll see if you still think that in an hour.”

An hour later, Luke was 99.99 percent positive that Kinsey should have been ready to bail, but every sneaky glance in her direction found her watching the Olympic-level whining and nonstop antics with obvious amusement.

The Giants hit a double and the crowd booed, but in a resigned way. The lot of being a Cubs fan. Bottom of the fourth, and they were already down six-zip.

“This is so
boooring
,” Abby moaned for the fiftieth time in the last hour. “Can’t I check my messages?”

“No phones,” Luke said, a rule he’d instituted two minutes after they all sat down and started playing
Candy Crush. “This is a tech-free zone except for emergencies.”

Abby waved toward the field. “I’m gonna die if somethin’ don’t happen soon. That’s a
fo
-real emergency, Luke.”

“Yeah.” Sharon nodded her agreement. “Like,
fo-real
.”

“Anthony Rizzo is kinda cute,” Kinsey said, her eyes trained on the game.

Sharon, the slightly less mouthy half of the Shaz-Abs tag team, turned to her. “Who?”

“Yeah, Kinsey,” Luke growled. “Who?”

“Anthony Rizzo. He’s up at bat right now and he fills out those tight pants real nice. Great glutes.”

Abby and Sharon exchanged guarded glances, but couldn’t help checking out the situation on the diamond.

“Can hardly see him,” Sharon said. “He’s like an ant out there.”

“One more reason not to get the Jumbotron,” Luke muttered. The long-suffering renovation proposal that would bring Wrigley into the twenty-first century was on hold while the local residents sharpened their pitchforks. Luke had always been on the side of the neighborhood, no more so than now. Keep those great glutes at a great distance.

Kinsey rifled through one of those gigantic purses that seemed to hold everything a woman needed whenever she needed it and produced . . . binoculars. Itty-bitty, fun-sized ones.

Luke made a noise of disbelief. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

“Hey, you said no cussin’!” A chorus of grumbles
ensued from the kids
mixed with a healthy glare of disapproval from Wy.

“You go bird-watching in your spare time?” Luke asked Kinsey once the complaining had subsided.

“Just butt watching.” She sun-blasted him a gorgeous smile. “I was a Girl Scout. Always be prepared.” She peered through the lenses, adjusted the rims, then passed them over to Sharon, who was sporting a clown grin.

“Wow!” Sharon squinted through the bins. “That guy’s totally ripped. Even better than Luke on that billboard.”

“Lemme see!” Abby grabbed them and looked for a few reverent moments. “He’s got a good body. Muscular.”

“He’s too old for them and too young for you,” Luke said to Kinsey, but only the sultry air was listening. She and the girls were already deep in a discussion about Derek Jeter’s enchanted butt muscles (
vintage,
according to Kinsey, since the Yankee had retired). Soon, phones were being powered up so the relative merits of Major League Baseball asses could be argued.

“I said those phones were only for emergencies,” he said.

“Derriere discussion in progress, babe,” Kinsey said as she dialed up a pic of Barry Zito. “Nothing more important.”

With a sassy smile, she turned back to the girls. “Ladies, check out this BuzzFeed tribute to Baseball’s Finest Butts.”

Luke sat back, resigned to being on the losing end of this argument but not minding one iota. He liked watching Kinsey with the kids, that ease she exhibited
with people. She had upended every expectation he had for how a career-focused, suit-wearing professional woman might act. All this time, he had been subconsciously—okay, maybe consciously—comparing her to Lisa. Now he couldn’t help but compare his ex to a good-looking date. At the end of the night you can’t remember a thing she said, but at least she was pretty.

Kinsey wasn’t just pretty. She was whip smart and compassionate. A keeper.

Except she didn’t want to be kept. Or, more accurately, she didn’t want to be kept by him.

When he shared with Kinsey about the demise of his marriage, he had kept some details back. Not only had he failed to measure up to Lisa’s lofty standards of twenty-first-century evolved male, but he’d been too demanding, too intense in more ways than one. His ex-wife had laughingly called him “her bedroom brute,” but like all jokes, there was an unmistakable grain of truth in there. And it was no different for Kinsey.

Luke was her toe-dipping rebound. Her dirty fling. The guy who hit all her sweet spots and made her scream until she saw God—but hell no, you don’t bring him home to Daddy. Witness her horror that he might have anything in common with the Colonel. Her last relationship might have been a dud, but she clearly had a type in mind for the next time she got serious.

Someone not like Luke.

K
insey couldn’t believe how devoted Luke was to these kids—and not just the close to a hundred dol
lars he had spent on each one, from the ticket to the exorbitantly priced hot dog and soda, never mind the hat and T-shirt (thirty bucks for a tee!). She knew that money had to come out of his pocket, because no care home had the extra funds to drop on a kid who was a ward of the state. But also, his devotion shone in how he talked to them. On their level, with no phony adult-to-child condescension.

Overcome with curiosity, Kinsey leaned in to Luke. “How much time and money do you spend on this program?”

“Not that much.” He gave a negligent shrug, but she could tell from how his mouth tightened that the casualness was forced. “Most of these kids are too old to be taken in by a family, so whatever we can do to keep it as normal as possible is worth a few dollars and hours of my time. Besides, what else am I going to spend my money on? My best girl only eats vegetables. Cheapest date ever.”

Heart squish.
“The calendar profits will help.”

“It will for St. Carmen’s, but there are over seven thousand kids in foster care in Cook County, a couple thousand of them in group homes who will probably stay there and age out of the system. They’re forgotten by everyone.”

“What needs to happen?”

He stared at her, blatant surprise creasing his brow. Surely he knew by now that she was a woman of action. “People need to know how they can help. Money for books, games, days out. Then we need more people to take these kids into their homes. Give them that foundation you can only get from being part of something solid.”

Kinsey considered that for a moment. “The kids need better PR.”

“They do.”

“What would you say if I talked to Eli about shining a spotlight on the foster care system?”

“I’d say your boss doesn’t give a flying fu—” Frowning, he curved his gaze around her shoulder to the kids, then back again. “It’s not a very sexy issue for our fearless leader.” He smiled. “But I think if anyone could make it happen, it’d be you.”