The question hung in the room then turned slowly and slapped Charlie across the face. In that second, she had what could only be described as an out-of-body experience. She could see herself clearly from the outside. She was aware of being too tall, too big-boned, too muscled. Her mother was right—she wore no makeup and had been known to take scissors to her own hair if it started to bug her.

She dressed for comfort and had always told herself that if people didn’t like her appearance then they were shallow. That beauty was meaningless.

Only Clay had spent his adult life surrounded by beauty. The world’s obsession with it had rewarded him handsomely. He was the kind of man who turned heads and made hearts beat faster.

Under normal circumstances, he would never have seen her, let alone wanted her. She was part of the invisible ordinary. The only reason they had any contact was because she had gone to him and asked him to help her.

Humiliation blended with shame as she grasped what she had done. What must he be thinking of her, of what they were doing?

“Oh, God,” Charlie whispered.

Dominique nodded. “Better to face it now, while you can still get out. I’m sure you can find someone else. Someone with whom you have more in common.” She paused. “I don’t say this to be cruel. You’re my daughter and I care about you. But we both know that Clay would never be interested....”

She didn’t finish the sentence, but then she didn’t have to. Charlie rose. “That’s your motherly advice? Get out because he would never want someone like me? Are you even human?”

Dominique flinched. “Why are you angry? I’m simply telling you the truth.”

“Right. Like you did after the rape. I believe that time your great advice was to not lead on men. That there would be consequences. A guy like him had expectations.”

Anger joined shame as Charlie remembered how the hits had kept on coming. First the police hadn’t believed her, then her own mother had chided her for not playing fair.

“I’d been raped. Do you get that? Do you understand anything that doesn’t involve you?”

Dominique stood. “You don’t need to yell at me. I’m trying to help. Reality can be unpleasant but is best faced head-on.”

“Okay, Mom. Here’s your reality check. I don’t want you here. You and I have nothing in common, which I could live with, but there’s more. You’re a selfish bitch who has only ever been disappointed in me. You don’t want to be a parent—you want to be the lead dancer in a production. Well, that time is over. Take your AARP discount and get the hell out of here.”

Charlie felt her eyes burning. Dammit, she hated to cry.

“You’re throwing me out?” Dominique seemed to shrink. “But why? I’m only trying to help.”

“I don’t want your help and I sure as hell don’t need a mother like you.”

Dominique remained in place for another couple of seconds, then nodded once. She crossed to the table by the door, collected her purse and let herself out. Charlie walked into the kitchen and turned off the pot of simmering sauce, then she sank onto the floor and dropped her head onto her knees.

Determined not to cry, she ignored the burning in her eyes and the moisture trailing down her cheeks. She was strong, she reminded herself. Tough. She’d been through worse and she would get through this.

The problem seemed to be, she wasn’t exactly sure what “this” was.

* * *

CLAY STARED AT the drill tower. Today it was benign enough—a seven-story frame of metal and brick. Openings where windows would normally be. Stairs led to the roof. During actual training, recruits would have to find their way through smoke, with victims on different landings and tucked into corners. Fire would add to the heat and chaos.

But that was for later. Today he simply had to climb seven stories of stairs, first on his own, then carrying a hose.

The other volunteers stood in small groups. They eyed the building, probably trying to gauge how bad it would be. Clay knew he was more than capable of completing the task. Being physically fit wasn’t the issue. Right now he was more concerned about Charlie.

He hadn’t seen her in a couple of days. Although they hadn’t had an appointment, he would almost swear she was avoiding him. When he’d arrived at the drill tower, she’d been busy unloading hoses. In front of others, she was usually all-business. Still, he couldn’t escape the sense that something was wrong.

“Line up, people,” Charlie called. When everyone was in front of her, she pointed to the skeleton structure. “This is the drill tower. Today you’re only going to have to climb it. Twice. If you are selected for actual training, you will spend hours in it, learning every brick. You will grow to love it and hate it.” She grinned. “At the same time.”

It was mid-September. The heat of summer had eased a little, but it was still going to be close to eighty. Which meant it was already in the seventies. The first trip wasn’t going to be too bad, Clay thought. The second one would be a bitch.

“You will have five minutes to climb seven stories,” she continued. “Once you’ve completed that, you’ll put on the gear, pick up a hose and go again. The second climb must be completed in ten minutes. Any questions?”

Someone asked about a water break. Clay was impressed that Charlie didn’t bite the guy’s head off. He knew the times given were generous. When there was a fire, no one could afford to wait ten minutes for someone to saunter up seven stories. He planned to take the stairs at a run.

An hour later, the volunteers were dripping sweat. They’d all passed easily. Charlie warned them not to get cocky. When they faced the drill tower again, the times would be more realistic and challenging.

Clay helped load the equipment into Charlie’s truck. When they were finished, she turned to him.

“Would you please stay a second?” she asked.

“Sure.”

They waited until everyone else had driven away. Charlie stood by her truck, her shoulders tense, her eyes not meeting his. As he’d suspected, something was wrong. But Charlie wasn’t the type to play games. She would tell him and they would discuss it. Work together on whatever it was. He liked that about her.

She drew in a breath. “I really appreciate all you’ve done,” she began. “Helping me and everything.”

He grinned. “My pleasure, and I mean that.”

She didn’t smile. If anything, her expression tightened and her eyes darkened. “Yes, well, I’m fine now. We don’t have to do that anymore.” She motioned between them. “Be together.”

He leaned against the truck and considered her words. “Why the change of heart?”

“I shouldn’t have asked you to begin with. It’s ridiculous and inappropriate.”

“I’m not complaining.”

He didn’t understand. Seducing Charlie had been something he looked forward to. They were good together. They had chemistry and enjoyed each other’s company. They trusted each other. He knew how rare that could be. Sure, it wasn’t love—there hadn’t been a lightning bolt—but it was more than he’d felt in a long time. Being with Charlie wasn’t anything he was willing to lose.

“You’ve been great and I want to say thank you,” she continued.

“What happened?” he demanded. “Who said something?”

Her head came up and for the first time, she looked at him. “No one.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

There were only a handful of people she would let get to her. Charlie had good friends. None of them would hurt her or make her feel small. Which left the clueless Dominique Guérin.

“It was your mother.”

Charlie opened her mouth then closed it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t want to do this anymore. What about that isn’t clear?”

“Nothing,” he told her. “Nothing at all.”

It wasn’t in his nature to walk away from a challenge, but this was different. Charlie wasn’t like everyone else. He needed a strategy for getting to the truth. Which meant he needed time.

He walked to his truck without looking back, knowing it wasn’t over. He hoped she figured that out, too.

* * *

CHARLIE ALTERNATED BETWEEN trying not to cry and being pissed. Anger was a much easier emotion for her to deal with. She didn’t like being sad or feeling stupid and she loathed crying. It was such an expression of weakness. She prided herself on being tough. Toughness and tears didn’t go together.

She hadn’t seen Clay in two days. She refused to regret what she’d done. She’d made a sensible choice. Asking him to help her had been beyond ridiculous. She’d been smart to end their agreement.

Only she didn’t feel smart. She felt lonely and lost. Even her house, the one place she enjoyed being more than any other place except the fire station, had ceased to be a refuge. She found herself wandering from room to room, not sure what to do with her day off. She had plenty of chores, but they weren’t appealing. She could call one of her friends and go to lunch, but doubted she would be good company. She alternated between knowing she was a fool to let her mother win and wondering if Clay was thinking of her half as much as she was thinking of him.

Missing him was an unexpected development. The man was good company. He got her, which she appreciated. She liked to think she got him, too. That while there wasn’t a romantic connection, they’d become friends. She liked him. More important, she trusted him.

Why did he have to be so damned pretty?

That was the real problem, she told herself. His looks. If he was just a regular guy, she wouldn’t be having this dilemma. She would have been able to handle her doubts. But all kinds of wishing wasn’t going to change that.

Someone knocked on her door. She had the feeling it could be her mother and wouldn’t that be a nightmare. She hesitated and the knocking came again.

“Open up, Charlie.”

She froze in the center of her living room. Clay? What was he doing here?

She crossed to the door and pulled it open.

If she had to come up with a plan, it would probably be to tell him to go away. That she’d told him what she wanted and he wasn’t listening. Except the second she saw him, she couldn’t speak.

He looked good. Not perfect, model-good, but the guy who made her bones melt kind of good. He was all sexy in jeans and a T-shirt. His expression of determination didn’t hurt, either.

His gaze narrowed as he stared at her. “Done being stupid?” he asked as he stepped into her house and closed the door behind himself.

“What?”

“You let your mother get inside your head. You know better. I’m here because I want to be here. No other reason. I’m not that altruistic.”

She blinked. “How did you know it was my mother?”

“It wasn’t hard to figure out. Plus I’ve caught her glaring at me a couple of times at the grocery store. What’s the deal? She doesn’t think I’m good enough for you?”

Charlie managed a strangled laugh. “Right.”

He crossed to her and cupped her face in his hands. “Don’t doubt yourself. Not you. You’re the strongest person I know. I admire you.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “You’re also sexy as hell and right now all I can think about is how much I want to get you in bed.”

Fifteen minutes ago, she would have sworn there was no way he could talk himself back into her life. That she was determined to be smart about what was going on. That she wasn’t like other women, seduced by a man’s words...and touch.

But she would have been wrong.

The first second his mouth touched hers, she was lost. She found herself clinging to him, holding on as if she would never let go. He was strong and solid, warm and familiar. She knew his scent and the sound of his laugh.

When his lips brushed against hers, she parted for him, then stroked his tongue with hers. Wanting turned liquid. Need burned through her. In less than a heartbeat, she was hungry for all that he did to her.

He drew back and stared into her eyes. “Tell me you want me,” he murmured. “I mean it, Charlie. I need to hear the words.”

Perhaps to be sure this was what she wanted, too. Perhaps because he knew she needed to say them.

She stared into his dark eyes, seeing the passion there. The acceptance and maybe even affection.

“I want you.”

Her voice was a whisper, but it must have been enough because he gave a low groan and kissed her again. Harder. His touch more insistent. She felt the passion in him and it fed her own. His mouth claimed hers before moving lower. He kissed along her jaw, moving toward her ear. When he reached the sensitive lobe, he nibbled until her breath caught.

She rested her hands on his shoulders, feeling the broad, thick muscles, then moved her fingers down his chest. Each defined rise and dip excited her. When she reached the waistband of his jeans, she pulled his T-shirt free and put her hands on his bare belly.

Clay sucked in a breath. “Okay, we’re doing this right,” he said, stepping back and taking her hand.

He led her down the hall to her bedroom. Once there, he kicked off his shoes, then pulled a box of condoms from his front pocket and tossed them on the nightstand.

Charlie stared at the small box, waiting for the first wave of panic. After all, she knew what they meant. What would happen next. She waited, braced for the need to run. But there was only anticipation.

She was ready. Ready to be touched and taken. Ready to have him inside of her. What had happened to her before had nothing to do with this man. This moment. Clay had truly set her free.