Heating up the Holidays Read online

  Plus he’d found true love with Brooke, and been taken off the market.

  But even before that, she’d fallen for Dustin. She hadn’t known back then the why or how of it, but Dustin had taken her off the market, too.

  It was time he damn well knew it. “Where’s Dustin?”

  “Gone.”

  The same queasy panic she’d experienced yesterday flooded her again. “What do you mean, gone? Where does a guy who’s been shot go?”

  Zach released the pole and hopped down. Letting out a long breath, he looked her in the eyes. “He’s at his mom’s house in San Luis Obispo.”

  Which was an hour north of Santa Rey. “Why?”

  “For Christmas.”

  There was something funny to his tone. “He’s coming back though,” she said. “Right?”

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  Oh, God. She wasn’t going to like this. “Tell me what, Zach?”

  “He gave his notice. He’s going full-time into the renovating business with his brother.”

  Cristina chewed on that for a moment while a very bad feeling sank in her gut. “Okay, I’m going to need his mom’s address.”

  Five minutes later she was on the highway heading toward San Luis Obispo. She didn’t want to think about why she was in such a hurry, or why the panic had grown and spread from her gut to every part of her body.

  Dustin had quit.

  He’d walked away.

  And she’d let him.

  10

  C RISTINA GOT STUCK in holiday traffic, which only upped her blood pressure, but finally, she got there. Dustin’s mother lived in the middle of suburbia, complete with a white picket fence and a well-kept yard decorated for Christmas with lights strung in the trees and boughs of holly along the patio decking.

  It was Christmas Eve.

  It was Christmas Eve and she stood on the porch, hand raised to knock, about to completely impose on a family she’d never even met.

  Because she had to see Dustin. She had to tell him-

  Oh, God. She still didn’t have the exact words but she had the gist now. She was going to get it right this time.

  Jason opened the door to her knock. Perfect.

  In an exact imitation of his brother, he arched a brow and waited patiently.

  “Um,” she said brilliantly.

  “Still working on your greeting, huh? Need a moment?”

  “No.” Yes. She stepped into the living room, filled with comfy, worn furniture and a huge Christmas tree, around which were so many presents they came halfway out into the room. “Wow.”

  “Yeah,” Jason said, amused. “We don’t get to see each other too much during the year so we tend to go a little overboard at Christmas.”

  She had no understanding of this. Christmases in her world were a whole different ball game. “Oh. Uh, I don’t want to intrude.”

  “You’re not. Everyone’s out doing their last-minute shopping. Probably be gone for hours. I was just leaving, too. Dustin’s upstairs.”

  And with that, he walked out the front door. She stared at the tree, gulped and headed toward the stairs. “Dustin?”

  He didn’t answer, and she began to make her way up, her heart in her throat. Upstairs in the hallway, all the doors were shut. “Dustin?”

  She heard a soft oath, some rustling, and then one of the doors opened and Dustin stood there in a thick, dark blue robe, braced on a crutch, looking pale and tense.

  And at just the sight of him, her heart warmed. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  He was hurting like hell, she could tell, and without a word, she went to him, slipped her arms around him, and took him back to his bed.

  Lying back on the mattress, he gritted his teeth and pulled himself into a better position. “If you’re here to have your way with me, I’m going to disappoint you.”

  “You could never disappoint me.”

  “Yeah? Try me.”

  As usual, he told it like it was, holding nothing back. What was it like to wear your emotions on your sleeve, she wondered, not to have a deep, dark secret festering inside?

  Her deep, dark secret was killing her. “You win,” she told him. “Your evil plan worked.”

  “Huh?”

  It was so clear to her now, and, needing it to be clear to him, she stripped out of her clothes while he sputtered, and then she climbed into bed with him.

  Two warm, hard arms came around her. “Cristina.”

  She kissed his jaw, and then his chest, and he groaned, the sound bringing her such raw relief she felt the sting of tears at the base of her throat. “You’re not mad at me,” she let out before she could stop herself.

  “Frustrated. Irritated. Hurt.” He shook his head and sighed. “But not mad.”

  “I’m so sorry, Dustin,” she whispered, slipping her hands into his robe, warming at the discovery that he was naked beneath. She tugged the robe off his shoulders so they could both be naked together. “This day really sucked golf balls.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Don’t ever get shot again.”

  “Amen to that.”

  “Dustin, I-”

  But his hands were busy skimming over every inch of her, wrenching a heartfelt and appreciative deep groan from his chest. It tugged at her, from loins to the tips of her hair, and she kissed him. She meant it to be a sweet kiss, a prelude to the I-love-you speech she’d prepared, but his hands swept down her back and cupped her bottom, nudging her closer until he let out a hiss and went still.

  “Careful,” she gasped. “I don’t want to hurt you-”

  “You’re killing me.” But he wouldn’t let her pull away. Rolling to his back, he urged her over on top of him until she straddled his waist.

  She understood. It was her move. If she wanted him, wanted them, then this one was on her. No problem there. Her fingers curled around him. He was ready. She reached for the condom she’d brought.

  “You came prepared.”

  “In many ways-” She broke off to put it on him, leaving them both gasping by the time she was done. “Are you okay?”

  “I will be. When you-Oh, yeah,” he managed on a rough breath when she sank down on him. Their twin moans mingled in the night, and she dropped her forehead to his, swamped with emotion. “Dustin.”

  “Much as I want to be the macho guy here and show you a good time, I can’t move. My leg-”

  “I’ve got you.” And for once, she did. She cupped his face and breathed his air and repeated it softly. “I’ve got you, Dustin.” Heart and soul…

  When she began to move, it seemed as though her entire world moved along in sync. For the first time she felt completely transformed, transfixed, beyond herself. He gripped her hips in his hands and let her ride him, and just when she began to go over, he stroked her where they were joined, making her his…except she already was.

  His.

  She let herself fall, and one stroke later, he fell with her.

  It took her a long time to recover. Still breathless, she rolled off him, shocked at the depths of what they’d just shared. “How was that for a first move?”

  He reached for her hand, bringing it to his mouth. “Nice.”

  “I have more. First moves, that is.”

  “You’re going to have to give me a minute.”

  “No,” she said, and laughed. Rolling over, she lay on his chest, looking through the dark to find his eyes glittering with interest. “I meant a different first move.” Her smile faded, replaced by nerves. “I’ve been an idiot, Dustin. A stubborn, closed-minded idiot.”

  His lips quirked in silent agreement, but he didn’t respond. His hands though, they moved, up and down her naked body, producing a set of anticipatory shivers. He had the most amazing touch.

  “And also-” She paused. “Okay, this is the hard part because I’ve never said this before-I was wrong.” God, those hands. And now his mouth got into the fray, too, nibbling at her shoulder, over her collarbone…“About
me being able to be in a relationship. About us. About so many things-” His fingers were driving her crazy. “Are you listening?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  He sounded laid-back and sleepy-eyed and sexy as hell, and she breathed him in. “I don’t know why I’m so anxious. It’s just words. Three words.” She drew a breath. “I love you.”

  His hands went still and he stared at her. “What?”

  “I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you, but as you know, I have a few issues.”

  His eyes were bright, warm and filled with love for her even as his lips quirked. “I love you and your issues.”

  “I know. And that’s my own miracle, believe me.” She shot him a shaky smile. “I want you, Dustin. EMT or whatever it is you want to do-I don’t care. I just can’t imagine you not being in my life.” She held her breath for his reaction, but he merely smiled, too, a slow beautiful smile that stopped her heart.

  “About time,” he murmured, and pulled her close.

  MY GROWN-UP CHRISTMAS LIST by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  This book is dedicated to all the brave and heroic

  firefighters who put their lives on the line every day

  to save and protect us. Thank you for all you do.

  Also, to Jill Shalvis and Jamie Sobrato for making

  this such an enjoyable project; to Brenda Chin,

  editor extraordinaire, for bringing us all together;

  and Jenni Grizzle, for her unfailing loyalty and

  friendship. And, as always, to my fantastic husband,

  Joe, who, even though he isn’t a firefighter,

  has always been my hero; and to our wonderful

  son, Chris, aka Hero Junior.

  1

  B RADLEY G RIFFIN closed his locker at the firehouse and breathed a sigh of relief that his stress-filled twenty-four-hour shift was finally over. After picking up his duffel bag, he waved goodbye to the guys polishing the pristine red ladder truck. He hoped their shift would be quieter than his had been, but he doubted it-the Christmas season always proved busy for firefighters.

  Fires and emergencies were always difficult, but they just seemed much more so to him at this time of year, when good cheer was supposed to prevail. In his mind’s eye he could still see the soot-and-tear-streaked faces of the family whose house had burned last night. The parents and two young children had made it out alive, thank God, but their home and all their belongings, including the Christmas presents stacked under their tree, were lost, leaving them with nothing except each other. How many times over the last seven years had he seen that same heart-wrenching combination of terror and desolation in people’s eyes? Too many to count. Yet, he still wouldn’t trade jobs with anyone. Wouldn’t trade those moments when a life was saved, a loved one brought back from the brink. That family last night…they’d clung to each other and the fact that they were alive to rebuild. Unfortunately not everyone was so lucky.

  He walked toward the open bay doors, the sight of the bright California sunshine a welcome relief after the smoke-blackened dawn sky he’d stood beneath only hours earlier. He pulled in a deep breath, loving the smell of the firehouse-the lemony cleaning fluid the guys used to keep the place spotless, combined with a hint of what he called automotive potpourri, mixed with a whiff of the salty breeze blowing off the ocean. Through the doors he caught sight of the sparkling blue Pacific running onto the sandy beach. Lots of skaters, walkers and joggers already out and about this morning, he noticed. A beautiful sunny day like this always brought the crowds to Ocean Harbor Beach, the laid-back surfing town where he’d lived his entire life. And now that he had forty-eight off, he couldn’t wait to join them. Two days to regroup. To put the pressures of the job behind him. To concentrate on happier things, like Christmas. Which was only a week away. Which meant it was about time he started Christmas shopping.

  “Yo, Brad.”

  Brad turned at the familiar greeting. His best friend and fellow firefighter Jim Ballard exited the station’s kitchen and loped toward him. Jim had come on duty an hour ago and clearly it was his turn to cook; he carried a spatula and wore an apron that advised in bold print: Firefighters Do It With Heat. Brad sent up a silent prayer of thanks he was off duty. He loved Jim like a brother, but he was the station’s worst cook.

  He gave Jim’s black-and-red-stain-splattered apron a skeptical glance. “Soot and…ketchup?” he guessed, hoping it wasn’t blood. “Doesn’t bode well for the morning meal.”

  Jim looked down at the apron then shrugged. “Had a little mishap with the huevos rancheros. Nothing a few handfuls of jalapeños won’t fix.”

  Brad’s stomach clenched in sympathy for those poor bastards polishing the truck. “What’s up?”

  “Been looking for you. Found out something you might find interesting.” Jim lowered his voice. “About Antonia Rizzo.”

  Brad’s entire body quickened at the mention of her name, which totally annoyed and confused him-as it had from the first moment he’d seen her three months ago, when her florist shop, Blooming Pails, had opened in Santa Rey, the town just south of Ocean Harbor Beach, famous for its seaside boardwalk. He’d stopped by on opening day, not so much to buy flowers-really he didn’t need any flowers-but more because he was walking right by the store and figured he’d be neighborly. Not to mention score one of the free cannoli set on a huge ceramic tray just inside the door. He’d taken one bite of the delicious, chocolate-chip-and-cream-filled Italian pastry and his eyes had glazed with sheer bliss. In the next instant he’d taken one look at Antonia-or as everyone called her, Toni-Rizzo and forgotten how to swallow. Damn near forgotten how to breathe. Sure as hell forgot how to speak English.

  Holy smokin’ cannoli.

  His stupefied gaze had tracked over a mass of shiny, dark brown, spiral mess-with-me curls that loosely danced around her shoulders. Her chocolate-brown eyes sparkled as she wrapped a colorful bouquet in green paper and chatted with the customer purchasing the flowers. Her smile…damn, her smile was gorgeous and sexy all at once, her full lips glossy with something dewy-pink and flanked by a pair of shallow dimples. She laughed, a deep, throaty sound, followed by a slightly husky voice that brought to mind hot, sultry nights and tangled sheets.

  His gaze had skimmed lower and he knew that as delicious as that cannoli was, it didn’t hold a candle to Antonia Rizzo’s feminine form. Damn. Even her curves had curves. She was striking and vivid and sexy as hell, and everything male in him went on red alert. In the space of a nanosecond he fell totally, irreparably in lust. Which admittedly had happened to him before, but never to this extent. Never to the point where he actually forgot where he was. What he was doing. And what his damn name was.

  Once he recalled he was Brad-or Bill-or at least something that started with a B, he approached her. Smiled. Complimented her on her fabulous cannoli. Flirted. She was polite, but didn’t return any of the flirtatious lobs he tossed. He bought a bouquet of flowers, which he immediately gave to her, along with an invitation to dinner. She’d thanked him, handed him back the flowers and broken his heart by saying she was already involved.

  Whoever he was, the guy was damn lucky. Brad had departed the shop deflated, unable to shake the feeling that he’d lost out on something really great. He’d never experienced such a strong reaction to a woman, and she was unavailable. What kind of crap was that?

  He told himself he was better off, that he wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. Reminded himself of the wringer his last two girlfriends had put him through. Sandy hadn’t been able to deal with the dangerous aspects of his job; what had started out as concern for his safety, which he’d appreciated, had eventually deteriorated into constant nagging to quit the fire department, which he hadn’t appreciated. And then Janna had been Sandy’s complete opposite-she loved everything about the fire department. Unfortunately she loved firefighters a little too much, as Brad learned when he caught her riding a guy from a neighboring town’s hook-and-ladder company like he was the winning horse
in the Kentucky Derby. A guy Brad had considered a friend.

  Ever since that unappetizing scene four months ago, he’d flown under the radar. He supposed he should have jumped right back into the dating whirlpool, but his heart just hadn’t been in it. He wanted another girlfriend like he wanted a gaping hole in his head. But for reasons he couldn’t figure, even picking up one of the endless smorgasbord of bikini-clad babes who frequented the beach and local bars and engaging in a few hours of mindless, no-strings-attached sex didn’t hold the allure it once had. After Janna he’d indulged a couple of times, but both occasions had left him feeling empty and filled with an unsettling loneliness.

  Yet even before his last two breakups, he’d felt the stirrings of this weird discontent, one he finally traced back to last July, when he’d served as best man at Greg and Tanya’s wedding. He’d never seen his older brother so happy. As they’d watched Tanya walk down the aisle, he’d said to Greg, “She’s beautiful.” Greg had nodded. “Best thing that’s ever happened to me.” And Brad had thought it was too bad Tanya didn’t have a sister. Two months later, he’d seen Toni Rizzo and it was as if he’d been hooked up to a nuclear reactor.

  Even though she wasn’t available, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He kept comparing his reaction to other women to his reaction to her. And every other woman came up short. It had quickly turned into something of a quest-find a woman who turned him on and attracted him the way she had. He hadn’t succeeded, and because he hadn’t, he’d spent a lot of nights alone in his bed, tossing and turning, frustrated, lonely and wishing like hell he could forget her.

  Unable to keep from doing so, he found himself frequently stopping by her shop in the hope that she’d respond to one of his opening conversational gambits, and maybe he’d find her no longer “involved.” No such luck. Toni was unfailingly polite, but her “I’m not interested” vibe never wavered. And after three months of buying flowers and plants he didn’t need, his small ranch house looked downright girly and his mother had received so many bouquets from him, she was convinced he was up to something. Or that she’d contracted some dread disease and he wasn’t telling her.