Seducing the Fireman (Risky Business) (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Becca slipped into the gallery just before closing time, wishing she had half of Quinn’s determination. She’d taken her friend’s advice and agreed to sell the photo, but it hadn’t been an easy decision. Despite the way things had ended with Jax, or maybe because of it, she wanted to hold onto…
Jax
. Selling it felt unnatural, like losing a part of her soul that
could never be reclaimed. Unfortunately, Quinn was right. Business was business and she needed to make the sale. That was kind of the point of being an artist.

Squaring her shoulders, she wove her way through the gallery, heading straight for the room where her work was on display. Better to suck it up and get it over with. She just hoped the buyer didn’t have too many questions. The last
thing she wanted to do was burst into tears talking about Jax. Then again, she was a bona fide artist now. Eccentric behavior came with the territory, so maybe they’d consider it a bonus.

The lights were dim when she entered the space, but she wasn’t alone. There was a man studying her work. His back was to her. It didn’t matter. She knew that body as intimately as she knew her own. Standing
there in his dress uniform with his hat tucked under his arm, he looked every bit the perfect gentlemen.

Jax
.

Her heart stuttered at the sight of him. She’d missed him something fierce this last week. It was hard to believe he’d become such an integral part of her life, as necessary as fresh air and tiramisu, in such a short time. But that time had passed.

So what was he doing
at the gallery?

It didn’t matter. She couldn’t do this right now. She needed to keep her head about her, to talk art with a prospective client. That would be impossible with Jax in the gallery.

Quiet as a mouse, she backed out of the room. Madeline would have to reschedule the buyer, tell him she had food poisoning or something. Surely the curator would understand. Besides, a lover’s
quarrel in the middle of her gallery, even at this late hour, wouldn’t be good for business.

He turned, his eyes finding her immediately, as if he’d know she was there all along. “Becca.”

She froze. “Jax.”

“Please don’t leave.” He took a tentative step forward, partially closing the gap between them. Why did he have to make that uniform look so damn good?

“I can’t do this
right now,” she blurted, hating the way her body reacted to the sight of him with hard nipples and damp panties. Stupid hormones. “I’m meeting a prospective buyer.”

“I know.” He spread his hands and then clasped his hat at center mass. “I requested the private showing. I hope you don’t mind.”

Mind? She most certainly did mind. After he’d thrown her out of his apartment and stomped
on her heart? What the hell was he playing at?

She drew a calming breath. No need to get herself kicked out of the gallery for acting like a lunatic. They were both adults. And she was perfectly capable of telling him where he could stick his private showing without raising her voice. She stalked across the room, heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

“This is a powerful image,” he
said, pointing to the photo of him on the ladder. She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, but he cut her off. “I know we have a lot to talk about, but before we get into that, can you talk to me about this photograph? Please?”

She snapped her mouth shut. All right. She’d play along, if that’s what it took to find out what he was up to. Just as she had a hundred times before,
she studied the image. “The lighting isn’t quite right.” She tilted her head, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. “And I wish I’d gotten a slightly better angle.”

“Is that your sales pitch?” The corners of his lips twitched. “If so, it could use some work.”

“Fine.” She gave him the side eye, hating that she noticed his stupid dimples. “What do you want to know?”

“I want
to know what you see as an artist.” He arched his brow, his eyes searching hers as if the answers might be hidden in their depths. “Why did you choose this photograph for your exhibition?”

It was a good question. It wasn’t technically perfect, so why had she chosen it? “When I look at this photograph, I see so much more than a fireman saving the life of a child. Don’t get me wrong, that
image is powerful in its own right.”

“But that’s not why you chose it,” he said, finishing her thought. His blue eyes were clear and bright, like summer skies, unlike the last time she’d seen him.

“Your eyes—” She hesitated. “I mean, the subject’s eyes convey strength, courage, resilience. The very best of the human spirit.” She ran her fingers over the frame, reminding herself to
keep it professional. “When I look at this image, I feel hope. For humanity and for my city.”

He nodded, placing his hand over hers. A shiver raced down her spine.

Not this time.

She jerked her hand away, refusing to be sucked in by him again. He’d had his chance. Two, technically. She didn’t have a third in her.

“I’m no expert, but I think maybe you missed something.”
He narrowed his eyes. And was it her imagination or did his shoulders sag just a bit? “You know what I see when I look at this photograph? Fear and doubt. The subject is afraid. Afraid he won’t be good enough, brave enough, strong enough.”

“I didn’t miss anything,” she said, her breath hitching in her throat. “Art is subjective. We each see what we want to see, what speaks to us. The reason
this piece is so powerful, the reason people are drawn to it, is because it affects each of us differently. But I have to believe the good outweighs the bad. Every day we make choices that shape who we are as people, and on this day”—she tapped the glass—“courage reigned supreme.”

“You always see the best in people, even when they don’t see it in themselves.” He toyed with his hat, but his
eyes remained locked on hers. “Even when they don’t deserve it.”

“Jax—”

“Please, just hear me out,” he said, his words thick with emotion. “I want to apologize to you. For ruining your reception and for every terrible thing I said to you that night. I know how important that day was to you, and dammit, I wanted to be there to share it. I was so proud of you. I still am.” He shifted
his weight, looking anything but comfortable.

She could relate. Her heart was beating double time. He looked so sincere, as if their breakup had been as painful for him as it had been for her. But that wasn’t possible, was it? After all, this was what he’d wanted. He’d told her to leave, knowing she wouldn’t come back.

“Really, Jax?” She crossed her arms over her chest. It wasn’t much,
but it was the only protection she had left. “Because that’s not how it felt when you stood me up—
again
. Or when you told me to leave your apartment.”

His shoulders fell. “I know. I—”

“No,” she said, cutting him off with a jerk of the hand. “You don’t know, Jax. You really don’t. So why’d you do it? I just…I don’t understand. Things were going so well before…”

“Before I fucked
it all up?” he finished.

She sighed, rubbing her temples as her emotions spiraled out of control. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“The company caught a tough call, and I was in a bad place. We…I…lost a life. I was frustrated and angry, but that’s no excuse for what I did or said. I acted like a coward, projecting my fears onto you. I told myself I was protecting you, when in reality I was protecting
myself. I listened to those voicemails you left, to the fear in your voice, and I couldn’t bear the idea of hurting you…if someday I didn’t come home.” He paused, drawing a deep breath. “My father, he was never the same after my mother died. His grief destroyed him and, in turn, our family. I couldn’t bear the idea of putting you through that, of ruining the amazing person you are, the bright
future that lies ahead. I never wanted to hurt you, Becca.”

“Let me get this straight,” she asked quietly, pulse thundering in her ears. “You thought it was better to hurt me now than risk that kind of future devastation?”

He nodded, the sadness in his eyes overwhelming. “I was an idiot.”

“Damn right you were an idiot. You were afraid of hurting me? That’s what this was all about?”
she asked, throwing her hands up. “You put us both through hell because you were afraid of what
might
happen? Don’t you think I get scared, too, sometimes?”

Despite the angry rhetoric, her armor was slipping. She could feel the fortress she’d built around her heart falling. In his own misguided way, he’d been trying to do the right thing. And even if she didn’t agree with his logic, she
could understand why he’d chosen wrong. He’d never risked his heart, and he’d never had anyone willing to risk theirs for him. Hell, he’d told her himself that he didn’t know what love was before…
her
.

He reached out and stroked her cheek, setting fire to her skin. “This thing between us…fuck. Becca, I love you. Always have, always will. And it scares the shit out of me.”

Fear was a
powerful emotion. She knew firsthand what it was like to live with it day in and day out, afraid to take a chance. After all, hadn’t she let fear control her life for the last ten years? It wasn’t until Jax had come along that she’d let go and—

Wait.
Did he just say he still loves me?

…

Jax watched as Becca processed his words. He could almost see the wheels in her head turning
as she decided how to respond to his bumbling apology. It hadn’t gone exactly as he’d planned, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered now was her answer. Would she tell him to pound sand? Or would she give him another chance?

Shit.

He didn’t deserve another chance, but he wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. And he’d do whatever it took to win her
back.

“One more chance, Becca.” He reached out, touching her arm. “Just give us one more chance. We were so good together. I know we can be good together again. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”

“You don’t hurt the people you love,” she said, her chest rising and falling heavily. “You don’t push them away. Not to protect them and not because you’re scared.”

“I know
I fucked up,” he said, prepared to beg if that’s what it took to make her understand that losing her would
break
him.

“And you don’t knock them down again when they make a mistake.” Her chin trembled. “You pick them up, and you dust them off, and you love them, like you always have and always will.”

Wait. What was she saying?

“Becca—”

“Shut up and kiss me, Jax.”

His ears were playing tricks on him. Did she just say “kiss me?” That couldn’t be right, could it? One look at her face, at the raised brow that said “what are you waiting for,” and he had his answer. He slipped an arm around her back and pulled her close, enjoying the way she fit perfectly against him, as if she’d been made for him alone. Hell, maybe she had been. That was the beauty of it.

He lowered his mouth to hers, committing the moment to memory and savoring the sweet taste of her lips. His mouth moved over hers slowly, teasing her with a slow build.

“You call that a kiss?” She tangled her fingers in his hair and tilted his head, giving herself better access to his mouth as she spread his lips with her tongue and delved inside. She kissed him like a woman starved
for intimacy, devouring his lips with urgency.

When she finally released him, he was panting, the hard ridge of his erection straining against the fitted dress pants. “Before you say anything else, I need to know if you can forgive me, if you can you give me one more chance to be the man you deserve?”

“Didn’t I just say you were forgiven?” She grinned up at him, her face glowing with
excitement, her eyes filled with love. “Clearly I’ve still got a lot to teach you about relationships and loving people.”

His heart swelled. “I promise to be a diligent student. Starting right now. Let’s get out of here.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she whispered, glancing at the door. “My place or yours?”

“Yours. It’s closer.” He kissed her again, hard and fast this time. “What
about my artwork?”

“The gallery has a delivery service.”

Ten minutes later they fell through the door to her apartment, tearing off their clothes. They never made it to the bedroom. He pinned her against the front door, cupping her ass and lifting her in the air as she opened herself to him.

They were both primed and ready. He drove deep into her with the first stroke, seating
himself to the hilt.

He groaned, lowering his forehead to hers as her body clenched him tight.

Withdrawing, he slid back into her, watching her as he moved so he could memorize the look on her face and relearn all the places that made her moan with pleasure.

“I missed you, too.” She closed her eyes and rocked her hips as he pumped into her, their bodies moving in unison. “My
little battery operated friend has nothing on you.”

“Open your eyes, Becca.” He stopped moving, and she did as he instructed, looking up at him from beneath heavy eyelids. “From now on, the only one getting between your thighs is me, understand?” He pumped into her and slowly withdrew. “My dick.” He gave her another stroke, eliciting a moan. “My mouth.” He buried himself deep. “My fingers.
That’s all you’ll ever need.”

Nodding, she fused her mouth with his, ravishing his lips as he pushed them both toward climax, their bodies spiraling higher and higher with each crash of their hips. Just when he was sure he couldn’t hold out any longer, she threw her head back, banging it against the door as she called his name, riding out the aftershocks of her orgasm and pulling him over
the edge with her. His body went rigid, sealing itself to the woman he loved as they lost themselves in carnal pleasure.

Afterward, he held her tight, promising himself he’d never let go. No matter what life threw at them, they’d face it together. Because a life without Becca in it? It wasn’t a life worth living, and nothing was going to come between them this time. Not the past, not the
job, and definitely not his fears.