Red Wine and Kisses
Gavin
The hot water flowed down my face, and my muscles immediately relaxed. I flattened my hands against the tiled wall, shifted my weight to lean against them, and allowed the shower to massage me, washing away the ashes and soot covering my skin. Even though the fire had not been anything major, the wind had sent the ashes spiraling over everything and everyone. From the corner of my half-closed eyes, I glimpsed the grayish water swirling like a tiny tornado into the drain by my foot.
Under the caress of the water, my mind wandered to one of the first calls of the day. It had been a strange case of mistaken fire-identity. I laughed under my breath, recalling Ana’s face, flushed in embarrassment as she realized her kitchen fire was nothing but a piece of burnt chicken in the oven. I had the urge to cup her cheeks with my hands and kiss those tempting lips of hers. Instead I had asked her out on a date. What was I thinking? She was older, and almost certainly not interested in casual sex. I was on a mission to live my life to the fullest, and being tied down into a relationship was not part of the plan. We might as well be from different planets. Yet—
Fuck! My body responded to the memory of her ivory skin and full well-shaped lips, and I was hard as a rock in seconds. The curve of her generous breasts peeking from the unbuttoned top exploded in my mind as vividly as if she were standing in that shower with me. Of course, the thought of her under the running hot water next to my naked body just made things harder for me—so to speak. I don’t need this right now. Only my body didn’t seem to care. It wanted her.
In desperation, I turned the faucet to cold and screamed as the chilled water replaced the hot. That should do it, I hoped. A few minutes later, I hopped out of the shower and wrapped myself in one of the large white towels my mom had gifted the firehouse with. Why couldn’t I take my mind off the little writer with the heavenly lips? Why was I this excited about a date with a woman I knew would want so much more than what I was willing to give?
The firehouse was quiet. Jackson was the only one up, standing watch for incoming calls while the rest of the squad slept. I slipped between the sheets of my bed after putting on a pair of thin joggers, and closed my eyes. Like a skilled thief in the dark, sleep evaded me, dreams of the brown-haired romance writer not affording me a moment’s peace.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and tiptoed to the kitchen, where Jackson stood by the microwave heating up a cup of coffee.
“Hell, Jackson. Why don’t you brew a fresh cup? Reheated coffee has to be the most disgusting thing in the world.” I snatched another mug from the counter and headed to the coffee machine, limping a bit. My leg was sore tonight, obviously not too happy with the long stretch without a rest.
“What are you doing up, dude?” Jackson frowned at me. “You’re going on almost fourteen hours without a rest.” I had taken on a few extra hours for another fireman who had gotten sick.
I raked my hair with my fingers. “Can’t sleep.”
Jackson laughed. “A certain writer in your brain?”
Well, that was surprising. Was I that obvious? “What are you talking about? I’m just too hyped up to sleep.”
“Bullshit.” He snorted just as the microwave beeped. He took the hot mug from inside and blew on it. “You couldn’t take your eyes off her this afternoon. You looked like my golden retriever staring at a T-bone.”
Coffee pod in place, I pressed the brew button on the machine and inhaled deeply, the wonderful scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting up to my nostrils. I was very tired, dizzy even, but Ana wouldn’t leave me alone.
“How old do you think she is?” I almost bit my tongue, but I trusted Jackson with my life. His opinion mattered to me.
“I have no clue. Thirtysomething, I’m guessing.” He took a sip of the steaming liquid and wrinkled his nose. “This is disgusting.”
I laughed and handed him a coffee pod. “Make a fresh one, idiot.” Jackson waved my hand away. He was known for being thrifty and stubborn. “Come on, man. How can you drink that junk?”
“It’s perfectly good junk,” he said, taking another sip of the reheated coffee. “No use in wasting good coffee. And if you’re wondering if she’s too old for you, I’m pretty sure she’s not. You guys are three, four years apart, tops.”
My thirty-first birthday had come and gone a few months ago. I was far from a kid, but I was hell-bent on living like one. If my accident had taught me anything, it was to enjoy every minute of my life and waste no time or opportunities.
“We’re going on a date.” There, it was out. “Not sure it’s a good idea.”
Jackson frowned. “Why not? You’re obviously hot for her, and she blushed every time you looked at her. Go for it.”
“She’s not that kind of girl.”
“What kind? She’s flesh and bone.”
“Not the kind I normally go out with.” The coffee slid down my throat, soothing the smoke irritation out of it.
“You have a kind?’ Jackson laughed and poured the rest of his coffee in the sink.
I stood, favoring my good leg, mug in hand and thoughts flying out toward Ana again. How would her soft body feel wrapped around mine? I shivered, pleasure running like electricity through my veins. My friend stared at me, his eyes and mouth wide open.
“Fuck, you got it bad, man!” I wanted to protest, but he was right. I had it bad. “It’s about time you find a good woman and settle your ass down.”
My hackles came up, sharp and deadly. “Why do I need to settle down? Because of my disability? Is that what you guys think, that someone needs to take care of this cripple?”
Jackson raised his hands in appeasement. “Whoa, dude. No one’s saying that at all. You’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. I just meant it’s nice to have someone steady in your life, someone you can trust and who’s there for you when you need it. Like me and my wife.”
I blew out a heavy breath, releasing the tension that had so suddenly bunched up in my chest. I was being a dick. “Sorry, Jacks. I was out of line. I know what you mean.”
Fuck! Still sensitive about it even after all this time? Despite living a perfectly normal life, I still sometimes thought of myself as a cripple. Old scars healed slowly, apparently.
My friend and coworker took a step toward me and tapped me on the back several times. “It’s all right. We all have our sensitive spots.” He laughed. “Even me.”
I glanced at him and smiled. “You have a sensitive spot? What would that be? The size of your head?” We all joked about his head, which was a weird, almost conical shape, but he always seemed to take it in stride.
“I’m proud of my cone head,” he said, feigning outrage. “I’m not telling you what it is.”
My eyes widened as an idea came to me. “Shit! Is it the size of your—?”
He raised a hand in front of my face to stop me. “Don’t even say it! Or I’ll punch the daylights out of you.”
Laughter bubbled out of me in an unstoppable stream. “Oh my God! It is!” Jackson had turned beet red, and I may have been imagining it, but I could swear I saw smoke coming out of his ears. “Your secret’s safe with me, dude.”
I couldn’t stop laughing, and eventually he joined in, his hands holding his stomach. The phone rang from the office and Jackson ran to answer it while I washed the two coffee mugs we had used, still chuckling under my breath.
The sound of the alarm rang through the house. Three pulses in a row. Well, there wasn’t going to be any more sleep tonight. A three-alarm fire somewhere. Reluctantly, my exhausted body and I made our way to the ready room, where I quickly changed into my uniform and put memories of the alluring Ana somewhere on the back burner of my mind. Later. I would sort that issue later.
***
Ana
The dizziness was not getting any better. I continued to blow into the paper bag, but my anxiety attack just seemed to thrive on the challenge. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.” My litany of negative thoughts and words kept pouring out of my head and mouth like the effects of mental dysentery. I was having a hard time pulling myself together. Cute and tall Gavin would be at my door any minute to take me out on a date, and I was a mess of nerves and ill-disguised doubts.
The doorbell rang, and I almost jumped out of my skin. I had changed at least ten times, but for a moment I considered changing again. Smoothing out invisible wrinkles in my floral sundress—oh God, did I look a little too flowery and girly?—I slogged my way to the door as if my feet had grown attached to concrete shoes.
Not the fool I often appeared to be, I cautiously looked through the peephole and found the rather handsome face of fireboy Gav. Yes, I had already given him a nickname, a bad sign that meant I was getting a bit too attached to the idea of him. I swallowed the bile that had gathered in my mouth and unlocked the door.
The beige fireman pants—were they called overalls?—were not what I was expecting to see him wearing. Not exactly date gear. I suddenly felt overdressed. “Oh, I thought we were going—”
Gavin looked down at himself, spreading his arms and hands apart. “Sorry. I was on call and didn’t have time to change.” He looked up at me and gave me a blinding smile. Oh, boy! He was more than handsome. This guy was gorgeous. At least that’s what my eyes were telling me. “If you don’t mind, we’ll stop at my place on the way to the restaurant so I can change.”
Wait! Stop at his place? I was going to go inside this god’s abode? And wait while he got undressed in the next room? My heart and other equally sensitive areas of my body were all aflutter.
“Sure. I don’t mind.”
He offered me his arm in an oddly old-fashioned but oh-so-charming way, and we walked together to his car, a pea-green Wrangler that looked way too high for my short legs to climb. I must have looked hesitant, because he swept me into his arms and gently set me down in the passenger seat. I was so surprised I wasn’t sure I actually thanked him out loud.
“So, am I going to be in your next book?” He slipped into the driver seat with the ease and smoothness of a cat. “Are you going to give me one of these new beards and a tattoo?”
I laughed as he started the car and merged into the traffic. “What makes you think I would put you in my next book? And a beard?”
A stolen glance in my direction made my stomach somersault inside. “I may not read them, but I see the covers of all these romance novels. The guys are all big, muscled, tattooed, and with big beards.” He was not totally wrong.
“Well, I want to write a real man as my hero.” It slipped out before I realized I was going to say it. Heat flowed into my face and neck.
“Like Jackson? The guy that was sitting across from you?”
Now why would I write about someone else when I could be writing about Gavin with his gorgeous green eyes, thick lashes, and luscious lips? True, I hadn’t quite seen the rest of him, always stuck inside those ugly, bulky clothes, but he didn’t walk with a limp and he was strong enough to pick me up. Something told me the rest of him was as pleasant.
“Maybe.” I was not going to tell him I couldn’t get him off my mind and that I was sure my next hero was going to look a lot like him. “Do you have a tattoo?” I glanced at him from the corner of my eye and saw him smiling, his lips curving upwards on one side.
“Maybe.” He was infuriating. Now I couldn’t stop thinking of his maybe-tattoo and where it may be located. I crossed my arms in front of me and vowed not to talk again until we had arrived at his place. Which, it turned out, took only a few more minutes. He lived pretty close to my house. “We’re here. Need help dismounting?” Nice. Teasing me now.
“I’m fine.” I wasn’t. I was wearing a dress, and as I slid out of the seat, I nearly exposed my butt to the world. “Sometimes I hate being so short,” I mumbled under my breath. The gallant firefighter had already reached my side and offered me his hand for support.
“I do have a tattoo.” His whisper caressed my ear, his lips mere inches from it. I shivered, a frisson of pleasure beginning where his breath touched my skin and spreading like wildfire all over my body.
He lived in a condo above a small coffee shop, and as we climbed the stairs, the aromatic scent of roasted coffee wafted around us and made my mouth water. “How can you stand it? I would be craving coffee all day long.”
Gavin walked in front of me, his boots clanking on the wooden steps. “I’m not here much. Between the firehouse and volunteering at the hospital, I don’t have much time to smell the coffee.” He laughed at his pun and stopped by a wooden door, taking out his keys.
“Make yourself comfortable while I go change.” He pointed at his small living room and turned to walk away. Halfway down the hallway, he stopped and turned around. “You look beautiful, by the way.” And he walked away, leaving me breathless and uncomfortably hot.
His living room was small but very comfortable, with a gray couch in front of a glass-topped coffee table and a couple of simple bookcases packed with books. Another small pile of books, a tray with a coffee cup, and a small picture album created a feeling of hominess.
He likes to read! He was getting less and less real now. A handsome guy who liked to read? I scanned the titles on the table and on the shelves, wondering whether his choice of literary works was less than savory, but I was blown over by the quality—and diversity—of his choices. There was a smattering of everything, from comic books to James Joyce. Is that a romance I see? Were these books a clever ploy to get bookish women like me to fall head over heels in love with him? If that was the case, it was working. Gavin may have never read a single title on his shelves, but I was smitten.
“Do you like to read?” Gavin was standing by the counter that separated the living room from the small kitchen, rubbing a white towel on his wet dark hair. He had changed into a pair of jeans and a white shirt that clung to his obviously well-built chest muscles and shoulders. I gasped. Damn! He was perfect! The top three buttons of his shirt were undone and revealed a light smattering of dark hair. I had never been very fond of hairy chests, but at that moment all I wanted was to run my fingers over it.
What is wrong with me?
I had lost my power of speech and couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Nothing smart or interesting at least. “Yes, I love to read.”
Gavin discarded his towel on the top of the counter and ran his fingers through his hair, causing it to curl and spike everywhere. “I thought we would eat here. What do you think?” No thought came to mind other than yes, yes, and holy shit, yes! “I was planning on taking you to Joe’s Bistro, one of my favorite places, but I thought maybe I’ll just cook something quick and easy for us. Do you mind?”
Mind that a hot guy voluntarily cooked a meal for me? Was he serious? “Of course I don’t mind. If you don’t. I don’t want to be too much trouble.”
Gavin moved then and, for the first time, I noticed a certain oddness to his step. Nothing I could put my finger on. It was not a limp, but an unusual way of moving. Maybe he had crooked legs after all.
“No trouble at all. I enjoy cooking.” The sun had landed smack in the middle of that living room as Gavin’s lips stretched into a smile, and my body turned into a puddle.
I watched him as he busied himself in the kitchen, slicing onions, chopping carrots, and browning ground beef with the expertise of a chef and the sexiness of a dancer. “You’re obviously not a rookie in the kitchen.” The way he turned the contents of the frying pan with a simple flip of his hand was as hypnotizing as the pendulum on a clock. “Have you been doing this for long?”
“Since I was a kid. My mom was a chef at a trendy local restaurant and she used to take me with her when she couldn’t get a babysitter—which was pretty often.” He stirred the contents of the pan, his eyes never leaving the now pinkish-brown meat. “I learned a lot from her and the other cooks. I also learned that cooking can be a whole lot of fun and super relaxing.”
Should I ask? “Where was your father in all of this?” Damn, it came out before I could bite my tongue.
Gavin stole a brief glance at me before returning his attention to the chopped tomatoes he was transferring from the block to the pan. “He was never in the picture. When I was about two, he decided he was not too impressed with his family and decided to go get a new one.” I flinched. Wow! That was cold. “He wanted my mom to be home cooking and cleaning for him. ‘Why marry a chef if she’s not going to cook for you every day?’ So, he packed his bags and left us. A couple months later, he was engaged to another woman.”
“What an asshole.” I nibbled on a piece of baguette he had sliced and placed into a small basket. “Did he at least keep in touch?”
Gavin chuckled, wiping his hands on the towel attached to the waist of his pants. “Hell, no. I know I have a couple half siblings, but he never bothered to check on us and I could barely remember him. It’s been me and my mom all this time.” Bringing the wooden spoon to his lips, he took a taste. “Care to have a go?” He picked up another spoon, half filled it with the delicious-smelling mix of meat and vegetables, and with his other hand cupped underneath, offered me a taste.
His fingers, so close to my lips, made me shiver in delight. The food was yummy, but that was not what I had been craving all evening. Behave, woman. A simple taste and my mouth watered. “This is delicious. What is it?”
“Nothing fancy.” He chuckled, dropping the spoon in the sink. “Shepherd’s pie. My mom’s favorite comfort food, and her own recipe.” I watched as he mashed the potatoes and then layered them with the meat deliciousness. He slid the whole pan into the oven with a flourish and sighed with satisfaction. “Now, we have to wait a while. Glass of wine?”
Drinking was not my thing. In fact, I didn’t like any kind of alcoholic drink, but I figured the occasion called for something different. Against my better judgment, I accepted a small glass of red wine, the only thing I could drink without gagging. We sat on the couch, side by side, with drinks in our hands. Our knees were nearly touching, a fact I was painfully aware of.
“Next you’re going to tell me you like romantic comedies.” If he said yes, I would throw in my hat. He laughed.
“Some are not too bad, but I do prefer something with a bit of mystery or action.”
Phew, not so perfect. Good.
“You’re not gay, are you?” I had to ask. I mean, he cooked, he read, he obviously kept his house nice and tidy… I had never met a man quite like that. Except in some of my books.
“I like women.” Was I imagining it, or had his voice dropped an octave? “Why? Do I look gay?” His voice was back to normal, a lilt of amusement at the end of his question.
It was my turn to laugh. “I was wondering, because you just seem too perfect to be straight.”
His eyebrows shot up. “I think I should take offense to that… for my whole gender, I mean. Are you telling me guys can’t be perfect unless they have some feminine traits? In the name of all straight and gay guys, I must strongly protest.” I laughed even harder at his look of outrage.
By the time we sat at the table to eat, my legs felt a little wobbly and my head swam. I had only drunk an inch of wine, but my body, unused to alcohol, was having a strong reaction to it. I needed to put something in my stomach. Fast.
The shepherd’s pie was like ambrosia from the gods. I may have been a terrible cook, but I knew when I was eating good food. This was better than good. This simple comfort dish was worthy of a professional chef. My starving stomach was so grateful for the deliciousness of each forkful it was almost grunting in delight. I giggled, covering my full mouth with my hand. Man, I had a serious buzz on, the first one I had ever had. Probably not the best timing, considering whom I was with. For some reason, that thought made me giggle harder.
“Are you okay?” Aww, he was so sweet! He truly looked concerned.
My eyes wandered to his lips, full and sexy, and I had an urgent need to kiss them. A wave of bubbly dizziness ran over my head again, and the next thing I knew I had jumped to my feet, dropped my napkin on the plate and, leaning over the small table, grasped a handful of Gavin’s shirt, and kissed him full on the mouth.
***
Gavin
Honey and mint with a hint of rich red wine. Ana tasted like something out of a dream, and I couldn’t get enough of her kiss. Even though she had barely touched it, the wine had obviously gone to her head too quickly. She hadn’t hit me as the kind to grab a guy’s shirt over dinner and devour him along with the shepherd’s pie. Except that’s exactly what she had done.
I wasn’t complaining. At all.
With a moan of pure pleasure, I swiped my tongue along the inside of her lower lip, feeling the familiar flames of desire beginning to flare. My hands went around her shoulders to cup the back of her head and press her closer to me. Silently I cursed the table and the rest of the dinner still lying between us. Ana relaxed against my touch, and for a moment I thought she was going to fall flat on top of the dishes. I anchored her, and she whimpered.
“We should move to the couch, don’t you think?” I was pretty sure she was far from thinking anything at that moment. Her eyes were closed and her arms flopped down along her sides, limp and powerless. She was drunk. “I’m not sure how you could have gotten drunk from a finger of wine, but you sure did.”
Oblivious to my words, my sweet writer allowed me to support her and almost carry her to the couch. I didn’t think her eyes ever opened. As much as I would have loved to continue the make-out session, I couldn’t in good conscience. She was obviously unaware of what she was doing and probably wouldn’t remember a thing the next day. Unlike me, who would forever remember exactly how she tasted and how she made my body burn and vibrate with a simple kiss.
I propped her on a couple cushions as her head lolled backward. Man, she was so intoxicated. I had never seen anyone get wasted on such a small amount of wine.
“Ana, can you hear me?” She whimpered again, and I yearned to squeeze her against me. “I’m going to make you some strong coffee and then I’ll take you home, okay?” She mumbled something I couldn’t understand, and I realized she would never last long enough for me to brew coffee. I had to take her home safely.
As soon as I walked away from the couch, she slid all the way down and almost fell off the edge, her head now buried between two cushions. I wondered where her keys were, and then I remembered her dropping them in her purse earlier. Her small purse was still sitting on the coffee table, but I hesitated. It seemed like a terrible breach of personal space to go through her things, but I needed to find her house keys if I was to take her home. It was either that or let her sleep at my place. I dismissed that idea quickly. There was no way I would be able to have her sleep so close to me.
“Come on, Ana. I’m taking you home.” I tried to wake her up, but all I got from her was groaning. She was fast asleep. Fuck. I have to carry her.
Even though she was a tiny little thing, carrying an unconscious body was not an easy feat. I had done it a few times in my job, but adrenaline had been running high. This time, the only thing I was high on was the rush of hormones and blood to certain parts of my body. Not helpful at all.
“All right, girl. Let’s do this.” I slid one hand below her arms and another behind her knees and braced myself to pull her up. She was lightweight and soft even in her sleep. As I held her against my chest, Ana’s head dropped on my shoulder, and her soft brown hair tickled my chin. An urge to kiss her took over me and I shook my head.
I’m such an idiot.
The drive to her house was quiet, the silence punctuated by her steady breathing and occasional whimper. I couldn’t settle my pulse down, my blood still running fast and furious through my whole body. The mere proximity of her body was playing havoc with all my senses.
What is it about this woman that makes me feel this way?
I sighed deeply, half-relieved when we arrived at her place. I carried her inside and placed her onto the bed, dropping her keys on the nightstand. For a moment, I stood there, watching her sleep like an angel, flat on her back. The skirt on her floral dress had gathered beneath her and revealed a tantalizing portion of her milky thighs. The temptation to crawl on the bed and curl up against her was so strong my body shook like a leaf in the wind. I pulled the throw draped on the bottom of the bed over her sexy body and walked out of the room. I needed an icy-cold shower. Fast.
As much as I wanted to believe I was immune to her understated beauty, my body wouldn’t allow me the illusion. I was very much taken by her petite frame, her thick brown hair, her soft honey eyes, and her luscious, sensual lips—pink kiss-me signs that pulled on me with the power of magnets.
Better get out of here fast.
I flew rather than walked out of her house, and drove home faster than ever before. Once I got there, I stripped off my clothes on my way to the bathroom and ran the water in the shower while I kicked off my shoes. Without hesitation, I threw myself under the running water, grateful for the shocking blast of cold that assailed my body. Just what I needed—or rather, just what I could have right then. What I truly needed was Ana. Her body glued to me, lips on mine, hands working whatever magic she had over my body and soul.
Damn! No shower is going to help me now.