Under Fire by Jo Davis

the embarrassment in his voice. “That would be great, thanks. All I have are the uniform pants I was wearing, along with my wallet and keys. My shirt was destroyed and my shoes got lost.”
    “Since I don’t have the key to your place or know where you live, I’ll run by Wal-Mart in the morning before I pick you up. It’ll be easier.”
    “I’ll pay you back.” As soon as I sell a kidney.
    “No sweat. You can take me to dinner sometime,” she suggested.
    Zack’s mouth went dry and the waving banner at his crotch saluted the plan. Yes! He’d take this woman out, even if he had to rob a bank first. And steal a car. “It’s a date, gorgeous. Cori, thank you.”
    “Oh, don’t thank me yet. I’m an evil, scheming siren with an ulterior motive.”
    “Which is?”
    “Why, to lead you down the path of temptation and into unimaginable sin. What else?” An air kiss smooched in his ear. “Good night, fireboy.”
    The soft click barely registered. Zack lay there, a stupid grin spreading across his face, his throbbing dick making a respectable-sized tent in the sheets. God, what sweet agony. If he weren’t afraid a nurse would get an eyeful, he’d take the problem in hand.
    One phone call from Cori Shannon, and the world seemed a much brighter place than it had ten minutes ago.
    She hadn’t forgotten him, or blown him off. His room was still stark and empty, but he was no longer alone.
    A strange sensation unfurled in his chest, overpowering the desolation he’d learned to take for granted. Driving back his fears. Stronger than hope.
    Zack couldn’t be certain, but it felt very much like . . . happiness.
    It wasn’t until he began to drift off to sleep that he recalled Cori saying she’d had a bad night. Something had upset her and ruined her Saturday. Had she seen the van again? Received a threatening note or phone call?
    Worrying over Cori’s safety, his own predicament forgotten, he tossed for the rest of the night.
     
    “You can’t be serious.”
    Slack-jawed, Zack lifted the offending item from the Wal-Mart bag as though he held a plastic explosive.
    Cori stifled a giggle. “They’re cheerful . If anyone needs cheering up, it’s you.”
    “These can be seen from deep space.”
    “Real men wear pink.”
    And, boy, were those boxers pink. Electric pink—with bright yellow happy faces all over them. One smiley, larger than the rest, graced the front escape hatch, a strategically placed tongue sticking from between its lips.
    “I am not wearing these.”
    She shrugged, enjoying herself. “Guess you’ll have to go commando.”
    Zack curled his lip. “That’s gross. Not to mention unsanitary.”
    “Goodness! Are you always so straitlaced? Live dangerously, fireboy. Unless you don’t have what it takes.”
    His blue gaze snapped to hers. A slow smile curved his sensual mouth. “All right. Score one for you—this time. Just remember what they say about payback.”
    “Ooh!” She gave a little shiver. “Promises, promises.”
    Without warning, he leaned close. Reached out, brushing his knuckles down one cheek. She felt his heat blistering through the thin gown, and not due to fever. His scent, a mixture of soap and earthy male, teased her nose. Brought every female cell to rigid attention, puckering her nipples. Made her long to crawl inside him, learn what would cause him to lose control. Lose himself in her .
    But those wondrous new feelings were nothing compared with his kiss.
    Just a simple kiss. A brush of his lips against hers. A tentative exploration, silently asking permission. She slid a hand behind his neck in answer, playing with the thick hair at his nape. Loving the cool, silky black strands between her fingers.
    Encouraged, Zack groaned, giving her a bit of tongue. The gentlest of touches. A hint of toothpaste and spicy man. The slight contact sizzled a fiery path straight to her womb. Gathered there in a delicious ball of swirling, crackling energy. Blazed to her clenching