Heat of the Moment by Robin Kaye Page A

charge.
    By the time Cam returned home everyone had been tucked into bed. Not that he’d checked on Erin. No, Erin in bed or out of it was off-limits, much to his dismay. He tossed his shirt and jacket in the laundry and headed to the shower to wash the stink of fire and death off him.
    He pressed his hands against the cold tile, stretching his neck, shoulders, and back, and let the hot water beat away the tension. It had been five days since Erin had come home looking like a 1940s starlet. Five days since he’d held her in his arms. Five days of tiptoeing around each other, which, shit . . . wasn’t exactly the truth. He scrubbed the soot and smoke and sweat from his body and turned the hot water down enough to discourage his dick, but not enough for his balls to duck and cover. He’d been the one tiptoeing around Erin. He wasn’t sure what she was doing around him, other than keeping him awake at night. And as awful as it sounded, he knew she wasn’t doing it on purpose. It was in the tilt of her chin, the way her eyes shone when she talked to Janie. It was in the way she totally immersed herself in whatever she was doing, whether it be reading a bedtime story, cooking dinner, reorganizing his home and his life, or making love with him.
    Erin Crosby gave one hundred percent with no thoughts of self-protection—she couldn’t help herself. And that was what made Erin Crosby the sexiest, most incredibly loving woman he’d ever known.
    He understood why she’d left nursing. Sure, she’d told him at the interview, but after getting to know her, he realized the true depth of the problem. If Erin became one-tenth as attached to her patients as she was to Janie, then losing one would be devastating. And after his disastrous pillow talk, he understood why she’d kept her distance from him. It wasn’t because she didn’t want him; it was because he’d given her good reason not to trust him with her body or her heart. He’d given her good reason to feel the need to protect herself from him. Shit—just the thought of it was enough to make him want to bang his head against the wall, and not for the first time. He’d spent so much time kicking his own ass he probably sported bruises.
    From what little Erin had shared about her life before coming there, it sounded as if she and her mom never had anyone in their corner. They had no one they could trust to care for and protect them. He’d do just about anything to prove himself worthy, to be that man for Erin.
    Janie was thriving under Erin’s care, and for that matter so was he—except for the lack of sleep. He couldn’t blame his sex drive on Erin. She didn’t do anything to encourage it. She did just the opposite, in fact, but all it seemed to take was her nearness to get him going. He’d spent the last two years without so much as a thought about sex, but after Erin Crosby knocked at his door, he’d been able to think of little else.
    He turned the water to frigid and did his best to think positive even though his balls were shrinking to the size of peanuts. In the last day or two, things with Erin had been looking up. He’d almost teased a laugh out of her before she remembered she was supposed to ignore him. And there were a couple of times when Janie said or did something cute and Erin would catch his eye and smile like one parent might to the other. Like they were connected.
    Slowly but surely she was letting her guard down, and he was going to do everything he could to blast it out of existence. He just needed some time and he’d prove himself to her. Between now and the day Mrs. Truman returned, he would be the perfect gentleman if it killed him. Then once Erin was no longer his employee, he’d ask her out and, if he had to, he’d get down on his knees and beg for another chance.
    With that thought firmly planted in his mind, he shut off the cold water,