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  Sure, he’d taken her by surprise. The instant she’d realized he was coming straight at her, she’d frozen, torn between the need to run and the desire to see what he intended. Throughout the day, she’d noted how often his gaze found hers. Something that intrigued her given the fact she’d made her disinterest plain for anyone to see.

  Not that he’d seemed the least bit put off. As the day had progressed, the heat beating down from a relentless sun was nothing compared to the warmth stirring inside her. A reaction that caused her both pain and excitement. She hadn’t felt like this in forever. But then he wasn’t just some cute guy.

  The man was a machine. Young, well made, broad and thick in all the right places—she’d have had to be dead not to notice Troy Barlow was better than just good-looking, too. Sure his nose was a little large. His smile a little crooked. But his thick, dark hair and glinting blue eyes were sigh-worthy. And he knew his appeal, which should have rung warning bells. His sly glances told her he was aware of her watching him. But for most of the day, she’d watched him right back. He hadn’t flirted with anyone else. So he wasn’t a player. Or maybe he wasn’t used to being dissed and was simply doubling down to make sure she couldn’t tell him no. No matter what.

  Right this second, with his soft-firm mouth dragging over her lips, she couldn’t take a proper breath to tell him he should stop. She couldn’t muster the fortitude to pull away. The crowd cheering around them was an annoyance, because she was sure she never wanted the kiss to end. Worse, she wished they were alone. That she could let him do so much more.

  Which wasn’t like her. She wasn’t this easy. And then another thought, or rather, a face slipped into her mind.

  Mike’s.

  Stiffening, she fisted her hands in his shirt and pushed.

  Troy brought them both upright and, with a show of reluctance, slowly withdrew his arms.

  Time sped up. The muffled noise intensified. Footsteps clomped closer, and she knew her guys were bearing down on them both. If she wasn’t careful, a fight would erupt because her house looked out for her.

  Pasting on a smile, she turned to face them. Cade Westmoreland was closest, his frown digging lines between his furrowed brows. “Cade, have you met Troy?” she said, waving a casual hand toward the man whose mouth was still red from kissing off her lipstick.

  With a couple more of the guys at his back, Cade gave her a quick, searching glance. “We’ve met.”

  His deep tone didn’t say whether he liked Troy or not. His gaze studied her, no doubt looking for cracks in her cheery facade. She glanced behind her at Troy. The kiss had been beyond nice, but that’s all they’d ever have. She gave him a tight smile. “Well, that was fun,” she said, with the same tone she would have used to describe some ordinary occurrence, although she felt the lie all the way to her core.

  This wasn’t real. The incident was an aberration. Maybe she was just restless. Maybe the sight of all the lovely fit men in their uniforms and tight firehouse T-shirts had stirred up nostalgia inside her.

  Diana was smarter than this. Troy Barlow was the very last man she should want. She could tell from his easy smile and swagger he wasn’t a man ruled by caution. She’d been married to a man just like him, and she’d suffered for it.

  So why did her lips and breasts still tingle? She reached up to touch a fingertip to her bottom lip, wanting to rub away the little spark, and noted her lip was puffy and tender. The tips of her breasts tightened.

  Beside her, Troy made a little noise, which sounded suspiciously like a groan, and she cast him a sideways glance. A mistake, she knew, because the second her gaze locked with his, she realized this interaction wasn’t over. That he’d make good on his promise to pursue her. And secretly she wanted him to—despite the fears she harbored.

  Troy might be too much like Mike, but he was different in one very important way—he wasn’t dead. He was living, breathing, hot to the touch, and a damn good kisser.

  She was far enough from her life in San Angelo to indulge her curiosity—to see whether the parts of her body she’d thought impervious to flame could be reignited. From Troy’s smoldering look, she was pretty sure he was just the guy to give her what she needed. A one-night stand. Something light and uncomplicated, because the last thing he’d want was complicated—not with his looks and his youth.

  A thought which gave her a pang of regret. Although likely close to her in age, he could have his pick of young badge bunnies eager to hook up with a handsome fireman. Why was he even looking at her? Couldn’t he see the fine lines beside her eyes and mouth? The depth of the shadows beneath her eyes? But why was she worried? If he didn’t pursue, then she’d only be disappointed for maybe a day. Then she’d shrug it off and remember her vow.

  Never a firefighter. Never again.

  Again, she looked toward Cade and gave him a blinding smile. “So, who’s gonna stick around to help me load my things back into my van?”

  Although he returned her smile, Cade gave Troy a hard stare before cupping her elbow and leading her away. And although she was tempted, she didn’t dare look back. Cade had served on the same crew with Mike. He still stopped by their house every couple of weeks to see whether she needed anything. Two years had passed, and she hadn’t mowed her own lawn once. Hadn’t needed to hire anyone to clean her rain gutters or chimney. And he wasn’t the only one from the firehouse to check in. She’d be part of the firehouse “family” all her life. If that was what she wanted.

  Lately, she wasn’t so sure she could do that. Too many memories haunted her. And every time one of Mike’s friends showed up on her doorstep, she was reminded of her sorrow by the lingering shadows in their eyes. Wouldn’t just ripping off that old Band-aid and starting fresh somewhere else be better?

  She was a teacher. She could find work anywhere. So, why hadn’t she tried?

  A breeze lifted her hair, reminding her she needed to pack up and go. Turning her face toward the sun, she closed her eyes for a moment. She knew why she hadn’t tried to make a new start. She couldn’t bear going through Mike’s things in preparation for a move. Just opening his closet to clean it caused her pain. How could she empty it? Discard his things like they weren’t treasures. Like they didn’t hold his scent. Or bring back a memory she wanted to savor.

  Each step they took widened the distance between her and Troy. Something she ought to be thankful for. Distance would mute the desire that had risen so fast and sharp the sensation had taken her breath.

  Back at her table, she began to stack cups and pack away napkins and uneaten oatmeal cookies. For several minutes, she worked, ignoring her guys who were gathering the clothing and equipment they’d brought. She kept her gaze on her hands straightening her table until everything was packed, and then she saw movement from the side of her eyes. A tall, broad frame closing in, walking with a familiar swagger.

  When Troy stood beside her, she glanced to her side, but not at his face. “I need help breaking down the table.” A stupid thing to say, but by mentioning her need, she was admitting she wanted his help, his presence. Finally, she met his gaze.

  His smile was small and tight, and he motioned her back as he set the table on its side and folded its legs inward. “Show me to your car, sweetheart.”

  “Name’s Diana.”

  His lips twitched. “I know. I asked.”

  She smiled back, a flush of heat building in her cheeks. “Follow me.”