Flirting With Danger (6 page)

Chapter Six

A week later, yawning, Aaron opened his locker door just as Jasmine entered the room.
She had that fresh, bright-eyed thing going on, same as every morning. His day only
seemed to start once he saw her, and she always looked as if she’d just stepped out
of the shower—her flawless skin free of makeup, her glossy hair swinging in a ponytail.

“Somebody had a late one, did they?”

He nodded, yawning again.

She leaned back against the bank of lockers, arms folded. “I’ve just taken a phone
message for you.”

He gave her a questioning look. “Are you going to pass it on, or do I have to guess?”

“Cindy said you needn’t bother picking up your car later, because she’s going to drive
it back today and leave it in the basement car park at your apartment building.”

He winced. Cindy driving his car one way was bad enough.

Jasmine raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“It must be serious if you’re letting her drive your car.”

“It’s not serious. It’s nothing.” He’d only lent his car to Cindy because she’d turned
up wearing a coat and nothing else, to “
surprise
” him. He’d finally made her understand that he wasn’t interested, and then what could
he do? He couldn’t send her home on the bus, not even in a taxi. Not in that state.
He hadn’t had a choice.

“Cindy also said that you left your phone in the car. That’s why she called the station.”

He sighed with relief. So that’s where it was. He’d thought it gone for good.

He became aware of Jasmine giving him one of her looks and braced an arm against his
locker as he said wearily, “What now?”

“I hope you’re not going to make any mistakes out there today.” She grimaced. “It’s
irresponsible of you to come to work after…not sleeping.”

“Is that what you think of me? That I’d put people’s lives at risk for the sake of
my own pleasure?” He shut his locker door harder than he’d meant to. Not quite a slam,
but near enough.

She shrugged.

“I’ve never given you any reason to believe that.”

“What about yesterday?”

“What
about
yesterday? Don’t imply that I took risks because I was
tired
.” He couldn’t believe she’d think that. It was a calculated risk he’d taken, only
because there was a child’s life at stake, and he refused to believe that she’d have
done anything differently. He knew her, and it bugged him that she didn’t know him
just as well. When he’d left the burning house, the first person he’d looked for was
her. She was the first person he’d wanted to see, and the first person he’d wanted
to know that he was alive.

He cared about the rest of the crew—of course he did; they were a tight-knit team—but
it hurt that Jasmine specifically thought so little of him.

He drew in a long breath. “I have never, and I
would
never, put my colleagues in danger.”

She was silent, her lips pressed together.

“I had a late night, but I’ve had enough sleep, and besides, there have been shifts
when we’ve been dead on our feet from dealing with one call-out, then we’ve gone out
on another and we’ve handled it. You know my performance won’t be affected, so back
off. What I do outside work and the way I do my job are two separate issues, and what
I do outside work is none of your business.”

He saw her flinch. Her expression told him his words had hit home. Oh, hell. Now he
wanted to take them back.

“I don’t care what you do, or who you do it with.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that it was none of your business.”

“Of course you did, and you’re right. It’s not.”

But he wanted her to care what he did outside work. He couldn’t explain why, or what
the heck was going on here; he just knew that Jasmine’s opinion mattered more than
it should. He’d always shared tales of his out-of-hours exploits with her, despite
knowing that she thought him irresponsible and a womanizer. He’d exaggerated that
side of his private life, amused by her disdain, but also, in all honesty, intrigued
by the fact that she seemed impervious to whatever he had that worked on other women.

He was going to cause himself a major problem if he continued like this. Better to
quit trying to make her see him as anything other than a coworker. Much safer. Because
even if she did decide he had something she might be interested in, there was no way
he could risk turning the rest of the team against him for the sake of a short-term
relationship, no matter how tempting.

Jasmine turned to leave the locker room. “Oh, by the way, we’re rostered to cook dinner
together today. We’ll have to go shopping later. I thought we could buy ready-made
lasagna and just make a salad to go with it.”

Shrugging, he said, “Sounds good to me.”

…

Later, after a tedious day, during which they’d done nothing more exciting than carry
out an office-block fire-safety inspection, one of those dull but necessary tasks
they were required to do, she and Aaron drove to the nearby seven-day supermarket
to pick up what they needed to make dinner for the whole crew.

Aaron snagged a shopping trolley from a pretty young assistant who smiled at him like
he was her fantasy come true—which he probably was. Jasmine cleared her throat to
get his attention.

He turned to her, the flirty smile still in place. After a second, he straightened
his face and said, “So, what do we need?”

“Salad stuff.” She picked up two heads of lettuce and placed them in the bottom of
his trolley. “You can choose some tomatoes. Ripe ones,” she said. That should keep
him occupied for a while.

She walked around the end of the display counter and stopped. A young couple was huddled
together, his arm around the heavily pregnant girl, while she sorted through the bunches
of celery to find the one she wanted.

Jasmine stared at the picture of togetherness they presented. The girl kept glancing
at the man at her side and couldn’t keep the smile from her face.

Tendrils of envy snaked up from deep inside Jasmine and wound around her heart, squeezing
until she thought she couldn’t stand the pain. The girl was about the same age as
her…
she
could be this girl, shining with contentment, except that she couldn’t, could she?
Because she wouldn’t take the risk of letting a man get that close.

And because of her fear, she would never know how it felt to be part of such a committed
couple, to enjoy just being together, even if it was only shopping for celery, to
look forward to becoming a family…

“Are you okay?”

She startled at the sound of Aaron’s voice.
No.
She wasn’t okay, but there was no way she was going to tell him what was wrong. “I
got lost in thought.”

“Unfamiliar territory, was it?”

She gave him a contemptuous look, but really, he had no idea how right he was. And
of all the people to catch her having such a bizarre moment, it had to be him.

His eyebrows twitched. “I’d be interested to know what it was that put such a dreamy
look on your face.”

“Dreamy?” She made a scoffing sound. “Don’t you recognize concentration when you see
it? Why don’t you go and find some bread and leave me to do the vegetables?”

Between them they gathered all that they needed for the meal, and along the way Aaron
acquired an admirer. The woman was so busy ogling him she pushed her trolley straight
into a freestanding display of baked beans. Of course that gave Aaron the perfect
excuse to talk to her while they both scrabbled around on the floor picking up cans.
Jasmine was pretty sure he was trying to pick up more than the cans.

He didn’t seem to notice her irritation. He was supposed to be buying food, not looking
for dating opportunities, and what about the woman? Didn’t it occur to her that, as
he was shopping with her, they might be a couple?

Clearly not. She ground her teeth as they made their way to the front of the store.
Admittedly, they didn’t look lovey-dovey like the couple she’d been staring at earlier,
but still…who was to know what their relationship might be?

At the checkout, she was still fuming as she unloaded the items onto the belt, while
Aaron went through to the other end to collect the filled bags. Even though she was
occupied, she couldn’t help noticing that the young woman operating the neighboring
checkout was checking Aaron out too.

Suddenly she understood what it must be like to be one of his girlfriends. An ego
boost. The thrill of having what other women wanted. She would never work out their
willingness to be short-term entertainment only to him, but she could see that it
would be good for their self-esteem to be the chosen one while the role lasted.

Whether the other women envied her or hated her for being the lucky one, they had
no right to act as though she didn’t exist. She wasn’t jealous. Heck, she knew she
had no right to be jealous—it wasn’t as if they were together—but it just wasn’t right
that her presence didn’t matter to these women. Seized by an uncharacteristic desire
to be seen
and
heard, she pushed the empty trolley through to Aaron with a fake, adoring smile.
“Honey, do you need the trolley? Or will you carry the bags?”

Startled, he said, “I can manage. Thanks, sugar puff,” he added with a grin.

She turned to face the check-out girl. “He’s so strong,” she said, louder than necessary,
and added a conspiratorial smile. “I’m so lucky that he’s all mine.”

…

Outside the supermarket, Aaron nudged her as they made their way to the car. “Not
that I object, you know, but what was that all about?”

Jasmine was already grimacing. “God, I have no idea. I don’t know what came over me.
I was just so annoyed at the way those women in there were eyeing you up.”

“You were overcome by the need to claim me?”

“No.” She shot him a look of disgust. “They couldn’t know that we weren’t a couple,
could they? What right did they have to behave as if I wasn’t there? If we
had
been together, I wouldn’t have liked it at all. But,” she added, “I probably shouldn’t
have done it.”

“Hey, no need to apologize. I enjoyed it.”

And he had, it was true—which was weird, because Jasmine’s words had made it sound
like he belonged to her, and he didn’t
belong
to anybody. Never would, and never wanted to hear anyone say so. Staying away from
long-term relationships was a conscious decision and one he had no intention of changing.
Even so, her words had warmed him right through. Yeah, that was definitely weird,
since he’d known that she was only mucking around too.

“Well,” he added with a grin, “it made a change from the way you normally talk to
me, Sugar Puff.”

She held up a hand as they reached the car. “That’s the last time you get away with
calling me Sugar Puff. Be warned.”

“Oh, but it
suits
you.” He grinned.

“Yeah, right.” She swapped her bags into one hand while she unlocked the car. “I’m
just sweetness through and through. Put those in the backseat.”

He reached past her with the bags, then took hers and loaded them into the car as
well. “I think you might surprise yourself. In fact, I think,” he said slowly, “that
there might be a lot of sweetness beneath that crunchy coating, and if you ever let
it out…well, when you do, he’s going to be one very lucky man.”

It was just a pity that it wouldn’t be him.

The thought stopped him in his tracks. No, it definitely wouldn’t be him. Hadn’t he
decided earlier today that he was going to stay away from her?

Chapter Seven

As she pulled on the camouflage-printed, full-body overalls, Jasmine thought of her
conversation with Sasha and her mouth twisted into a wry smile. It was a very good
thing this wasn’t a date, because such an unflattering outfit would be a poor choice
indeed. The industrial-strength fabric billowed around her, making her feel like a
toddler in a romper suit. She glanced across at Aaron, who still managed to look lean
and commanding in his overalls. She squashed the sigh that welled up and deliberately
looked away from him, turning to her right where the five girls in her team were suiting
up.

When Aaron had asked her to do this, she hadn’t really thought about what leading
the team would mean. Watching over the girls, keeping them safe, for sure, but she
hadn’t considered that she would be required to strategize, to come up with the tactics
that would enable them to capture the opposing team’s base while protecting their
own. Not only once, either—it was the best of three games. The girls were already
looking to her for guidance and the game hadn’t even started yet.

She picked up the team’s so-called flag—really just a piece of pipe—and smiled at
the girls, determined to look confident even if she didn’t feel it. “Ready?”

Aaron grinned as she led her team past him. “Good luck!”

“We won’t need luck,” she said with bravado. “Prepare to be a loser. I’m going to
enjoy the victory.”

He laughed, then picked up his mask. “This should be good.”

The first game was frantic. The indoor battleground had been filled with urban-style
scenery, and cover for the players was provided by gutted cars, sandbag bunkers, and
forty-four-gallon drums. Both teams were shooting paintballs, and the floor soon became
slippery with paint. When the boys’ team won the first game by sending out a single
runner to snatch their flag while the others provided a distraction, Jasmine called
the girls together and invited suggestions for the next game. Between them they came
up with a plan, and it was a good one, she felt sure.

“We can do this, girls,” she said. “It will take tactics. And imagination. We have
that in bucket-loads, don’t we?”

The girls yelled their agreement, and Jasmine grinned. This was fun.

She raised her voice. “We’re not going to let the boys beat us, are we?”

“No!”

“No, because we’re as strong as they are. Just remember that, girls. We’re strong
and we’re brave. We can do anything they can do. We. Are. Not. Weak.” She was enjoying
herself more than she had for a long time. “Okay, let’s go.” She jumped up and her
team followed.

The second game went to Jasmine’s group, and she led the girls in a victory dance
while Aaron looked on, laughing his head off.

The third game was closer. The boys had worked out how to counter their tactics, and
one by one the girls were eliminated until Jasmine was the only player left. She felt
bad for the girls, but when she realized that Aaron was also the last man standing,
she dredged up a renewed determination to win.

She forgot about staying safe. In a complete contrast to her working life, she started
to take risks. Not major risks; it was only a game after all, but still, abandoning
her habitual caution was a thrill.

From her hiding place in a sandbag bunker, she darted toward a car body that had been
propped up on its side. She hadn’t quite made it there when in her peripheral vision,
she spotted Aaron moving into position to splatter her. She made a desperate lunge
for cover, landing in a puddle of paint. She went into a slide and couldn’t stop.
Her foot made contact with the car body and she cried out before going down in a heap,
eyes squeezed tight to shut out the pain.

Well, that served her right for taking a risk. She was bound to get hurt. She should
have known better.

Voices crowded around her while she concentrated on trying to wiggle her toes, which
had become a very difficult thing to do and not at all the natural reflex action it
was supposed to be.

Then she heard Aaron’s voice urging her to look at him, and she did, right into his
mask-free, concerned face. “I think I might have broken my ankle.”

“Don’t move.” He got to his feet and issued orders, snapping out instructions as if
he was dealing with a fire crew, not a bunch of kids. He knelt beside her again. “Which
ankle?”

“My left.” She tried to move her foot, but the sharp pain made her wince.

“Keep still.” Aaron’s lips pressed together in a grim line. He removed her helmet,
then touched her cheek with his fingertips. “I’m so sorry that this happened.”

“Not your fault.”

One of the boys from his team ran up to him. “Everybody’s ready to go.”

“Okay, good. And thanks.” He looked down at her again. “I’m going to carry you to
the minibus.”

“No, no. Just help me up. I can hop.”

“Forget it.” He lifted her as if she weighed nothing and cradled her against his chest.

Oh, God. Finding herself so physically close to him was causing all sorts of inner
commotion. She couldn’t look at him in case he could tell what was going on inside
her. He wasn’t carrying her because he
wanted
to, she reminded herself; he was just being practical.

After making an effort to stop her head rolling about, she gave in and rested it against
his shoulder. Being carried had never been a fantasy of hers—it smacked too much of
weakness for someone like her—but being in Aaron’s arms…the intimacy of being pressed
against his solid chest, of feeling the play of muscles and tendons as he moved…well,
if
that
hadn’t been a fantasy before, it would be from now on.

And being taken care of…well, that was a new experience too, and one that she couldn’t
deny enjoying, just a little. Not that she couldn’t take care of herself, but for
once, she didn’t have to. It was just a pity that her ankle was throbbing, because
she didn’t want the pain to spoil the memory.

When Jasmine left the treatment cubicle with a crutch, Aaron was waiting for her.

She frowned at him. “Shouldn’t you be driving the teams back to the center?”

“Already done. I’ve returned the minibus to the rental company too.”

“Well, you didn’t need to come back here for me.”

“Of course I did. What, did you think I’d leave you to find your own way home?”

He was acting as if he was responsible for her, which was more than a little disconcerting.

“What’s the diagnosis?”

“A sprain, thank goodness. No fracture.” She’d be healed and back at work in a much
shorter time than she’d been anticipating.

“That must be a relief.” He opened the door for her, then followed her outside. “My
car’s over there,” he said, pointing, before touching her
back
to guide her.

She swallowed a comment about not needing his help, and let him assist her into his
car.

“You really don’t need to stay,” she said later when he’d seen her into the house,
helped her to prop herself up on the sofa, and offered to make her a cup of tea.

“Well, that’s your opinion.” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Look,
it’s my fault this happened, and I want to do what I can to make things easier for
you.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It was an accident—I slipped on paint. It could have happened
to anybody. It could have happened to you, believe it or not.”

His face serious, he said, “But it didn’t; it happened to you because you were there
as a favor to me.”

She made an exasperated sound in her throat. “Even so, I could have stayed where I
was in the bunker. I didn’t have to be so flipping competitive, did I? That’s my fault,
not yours. And, by the way, I’m not happy about losing that game. We were so close.”

He smiled and perched on the arm of the chair opposite the sofa. “You didn’t lose.
The referee called it a draw.”

“Good.” She nodded. “I felt bad about letting the girls down, but a draw I can handle.”

“They don’t feel let down. They’re concerned about you. When I dropped them off, they
made me promise to let them know how you got on at the hospital.”

“That’s nice. I enjoyed spending the afternoon with them.”

“Yeah, they’re good kids. They’ve made mistakes in their lives, but most of them are
grateful to be getting a second chance.”

He fell silent and stared at the floor. She watched him, wondering what was going
on in his head. “What’s wrong? Didn’t that pretty nurse fall for your charm?”

He looked up. “Which one? Ah, the one at the desk,” he said with a cocky smile. “Of
course she did, but I told her I was with you. Shall I put the kettle on?”

With her? “You didn’t let her think we were dating, did you?”

“I do have some sense of timing, you know. Even I wouldn’t try to pick up a date while
you were being treated for an injury I’d caused.”

She sighed. “Again with the guilt?”

“Anyway, would you like tea or coffee?”

“What I’d really like is a shower.”

“Right. Well, while you do that, I’ll cook something for dinner.”

“You? Cook?”

“Hey, I’m not the one who left the plastic film on the lasagna the other day.”

She winced. “You promised not to mention that again.”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell Dave. That’s all. And I still regret agreeing to that.
I wish I’d seen him trying to chew his way through it.” His face twisted in an attempted
impression. “He’d never have let you live it down and definitely would have stuck
a photo up on the wall of shame.” He grinned. “Anyway, I’m not as useless as you seem
to think.”

Useless
wasn’t the word that normally came to her mind around Aaron.

“I can just see you wearing an apron while you cook for your girlfriends.”

“Hell, no, that wouldn’t happen. Wouldn’t want to give them ideas.”

“Ideas?”

“About hanging around.”

He moved forward as she prepared to struggle up and took her hand, slipping his other
hand beneath her right shoulder and supporting her to her feet. Then he handed her
the crutch the hospital had lent her. “Will you be able to manage?”

“I’ll be fine.”

By the time she’d struggled to gather some clean clothes into a pile and had made
her way into the bathroom with them, she knew that
fine
was an overstatement. She’d made it this far and she was desperate for a shower,
so she wasn’t about to be deterred. But then she saw the dressing on her ankle and
let out a heavy sigh.

Aaron was in the kitchen, chopping an onion, probably the only one she had. It was
weird to see him there like that in her kitchen. She forgot what she’d come to say
and just watched him. Watched his biceps flex with each stroke of the knife. Watched
his brow crinkle in concentration. Watched his lips curve into a smile as he looked
up and saw her there.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” she said. “The hospital told me not to take this
bandage off for at least twenty-four hours, and I can’t get it wet in the shower or
I’ll be sitting around in a soggy dressing.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“So, I wondered if you’d do something for me.”

“Anything. Take advantage of my guilt while it lasts.” He placed the knife on the
chopping board and stepped sideways to stand at the sink, where he flicked the tap
on and began to rinse his hands. “What do you need?”

She cleared her throat. “First, I’ll take off my jeans, and then I need you to wrap
the dressing in plastic and stick it to my skin with waterproof tape.”

His hands stilled in the flow of water and he turned his head slowly to look at her.

She gave her head a small shake. “I can’t do it. I think I bruised my ribs when I
fell and it hurts to reach that far.”

He stared for a moment, then looked away, flicked the tap off, and wiped the excess
water from his hands on a dishtowel. “Do you want me to call Sasha to come and help
you?”

“The thing is, Sasha’s away on a training course. She won’t be back till late tonight.”

“Leanne, then?”

“She and Michael are still traveling. I wouldn’t ask you if there was an alternative,”
she said with a crooked smile. “Please?” He tossed aside the towel he’d dried his
hands on. “Okay. Where do you want to do this?”

“Here.” She hobbled over to a kitchen chair, leaned her crutch against the table.
With her weight on her good foot, she flicked open the button at her waistband, and
lowered the zip before slipping her fingers inside and pushing the denim down past
her hips, all the while ignoring the heat that trickled through her—an involuntary
reaction to undressing in front of Aaron. She plopped down on the chair. “Shame about
the jeans.” He gestured at the scissor cut that the hospital had made.

“I don’t care. I’m just glad the ankle’s not broken. I couldn’t have handled taking
that much time off work.”

“You’ll be able to make another pair of those sexy shorts to wear when you do your
painting.” She sucked in a breath. “You think my shorts are sexy?”

“Well, duh.” He rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

“But they’re just a scruffy, old pair of cutoff jeans.”

“It’s not the shorts, dummy. It’s you. And these legs of yours.”

He got down on one knee near her feet and her heart gave an extra-hard thump as his
gaze traveled the length of her legs, sending a ripple of excitement through her.
Crazy, she knew, but she couldn’t stop herself asking, “What about them?”

His eyes met hers and he hesitated before saying slowly, “They’re long…and lovely…and
very, very sexy.”

They gazed at each other for a drawn-out moment, until the breath she’d been holding
escaped as a sigh and jerked her out of the minitrance. She shook herself. It had
been all too easy to get lost in the way he’d looked at her, and she’d been like a
breathless teenager receiving her first taste of male flattery, looking for a deeper
meaning behind the shared look when, in reality, it was nothing more.

He cautiously lifted what remained of her jeans over her ankle and pressed his lips
together at the sight of the bruising that extended above the bandage. “Hell, I’m
sorry.”