He pushed up his glasses again, grinned, and pulled into the station. “Not quite.” He hopped out and walked away whistling, getting inside before she could ask him who he had the same problem with.

Zach and Aidan’s rig was in the garage, and her heart skipped a beat. The kiss, the kiss, the kiss…it was all she could think about. That, and getting another. And then she stepped into the kitchen and found Zach just standing there, looking ten kinds of wow.

He was in his gear, a little dusty, a little sooty and a whole lot sexy. He was still practically shimmering with adrenaline from the fire he’d just fought, looking far too edgy to be the laid-back, easygoing surfer guy she knew him to be.

And far too much for her to handle, no matter how much her body sent up a plea to let it do just that. He was too experienced for her, too…everything.

She’d spent too much time in her life trying to get somewhere, trying to find herself, to let a man like this in. Unfortunately, right now, at this very second, she wasn’t thinking about finding herself. She was thinking about seeing him naked. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah.”

But that was a lie, and that haze of lust he always created faded a little as she stepped closer. “Did anyone get hurt?” Or God forbid, like in the Hill Street fire that she knew haunted him, die.

“No.”

But the memory of something bad was etched in the drawn, exhausted lines of his face. He took his losses hard, very hard, and that fact only deepened how she felt about him. “I’m just tired,” he said. “And needed a moment alone.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” And she went to leave, because she understood that, but then he added, “I don’t want to be alone from you.”

She turned to look at him, but he’d moved closer and she bumped right into him. Her chest to his, his thighs to hers, and she actually let out a shuddering sigh that might have been a moan.

“What was that?”

Oh, just her brain cells blowing fuses left and right. “Nothing.”

Snagging her hand, he held her close, peering into her face. “You let out a…sound.”

“Yes. It’s called breathing.”

His hand slid to her waist and gently squeezed. “It sounded like more.”

How about a sexually charged, needy whimper? Did it sound like that? “No.”

His gaze searched hers for a moment. “Maybe we should talk about the kiss.”

Kisses. Plural. “Probably we shouldn’t. It might lead to…”

More.

He was waiting for her to speak.

“I think I heard the fire alarm.”

“Huh,” he said, sounding curious.

“What?”

“You’re not as honest as I thought.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Really?” His hand slid to the small of her back and stroked lightly. “Then what are you thinking right now?”