Can't Help Falling In Love. Wendy Etherington

like hell, Skyler swung one leg over the branch she was sitting on, clutching the rough bark between her thighs. Her stomach pitched and sweat trickled down her back. “Okay. That wasn’t fun.”

      “Jump, Jump, Jump!…”

      “Shut up already!” she yelled down, past frustration and embarrassment. She examined the inside of her arm, where a thin line of blood had appeared. Glaring up at the cat, she again began her descent. “You’re on your own.”

      Before she could get more than a few feet down, though, she heard the familiar sound of a hydraulic lift. The ladder. Again, she leaned her forehead against the tree’s rough bark. “Why me?”

      The cat hissed.

      “You said it, Fluffy.”

      “Name’s Jack, chère, not Fluffy. You wanna give me your hand?”

      Skyler jerked her head around at the unfamiliar, deep, sensuous voice—and promptly bopped her head against the thick branch next to her. Wincing and rubbing her forehead, she looked down at the man who’d spoken.

      She found herself staring into a pair of warm, whiskey-brown eyes, the exact shade of the Jim Beam her father used to drink. Along with those incredible eyes went jet-black hair, an arresting, sculpted and tanned face, broad shoulders, muscular arms, then…

      Leaning over to get her fill of her gorgeous savior, she nearly lost her balance.

      Quick as lightening, he grabbed her wrist.

      Her pulse drummed against his hand. The warmth of his skin seeped into her veins, and she found her whole body heating to his touch.

      “Hold tight, chère,” he said. “I’m tryin’ to impress my captain.”

      Skyler blinked. Of course. The new firefighter/paramedic Ben had mentioned last week at Sunday dinner. Grew up in a small, southern Louisiana town. Met him at a convention. He wants to move up. A real go-getter.

      Another hero.

      Who at the moment was going to save her butt, so she had no business quibbling with him over the dangers of his job.

      Still grasping her wrist, he gently tugged her arm. “Come on. I’ve got you now.”

      She smiled. That sounded pretty nice. As she climbed onto the ladder it wobbled. She thrust her arms around the fireman’s neck, and the heat of his body infused hers. His sculpted face was inches from her own. He smelled pleasantly of sweat, pine and musk, as if he’d applied aftershave that morning, and the scent had melded with his duties during the day. The muscles along his shoulders tickled her fingertips, and for the first time in a great while she found herself tempted by male flesh. Tempted beyond her brothers’ tendency toward overprotection. Tempted beyond her staid reputation.

      Smiling, he held her waist snugly as his bold gaze slid down her body. “This is my kind of rescue.”

      Skyler’s heart fluttered. It had been a long time since a man had looked at her so brashly—and survived her brothers’ fury to tell the tale. Curious herself, she let her gaze rove him as slowly as he had her. He wasn’t model beautiful, she decided…he was better. Rugged. Strong. And big. His tanned, muscular arms and broad chest were covered by a white shirt with the Baxter Fire Department logo stitched over his left breast pocket. His black uniform pants glided over his lean hips and thighs as if they’d been custom-made…and she certainly wouldn’t have minded being the tailor.

      My, my, my. There was just so darn much of him to absorb. All that agility, muscle…and man. She dropped her gaze to note he was standing one rung below her, but he still towered over her by several inches. But then, she was a mere five-two, whereas—she observed shamelessly—he was maybe six-four. It was hard to tell with their entwined proximity. Maybe this weird rumbling in her stomach was her weakness for large men.

      Then, she remembered. Rescue. The cat.

      She pointed toward the pesky feline, still perched several feet above her and looking for all the world like someone had interrupted her late afternoon adventure—and was none too pleased about the censorship. “Don’t forget Fluffy.”

      He glanced over her shoulder briefly, then said, “How ’bout I handle you, then I’ll deal with the cat.”

      Okay by me. She gave Fluffy one last you’re-on-your-own glare as the fireman started down the ladder and the crowd began to cheer. When they reached the safety of the ground, and her feet rested on the summer green grass, she gazed up at him.

      Way up at him. Whoa, baby.

      He grasped her shoulder, as if to steady her. “Are you okay?”

      Light-headed, she nodded slowly. His smile appeared—bright, charming, confident, maybe a bit reckless, and her throat tightened. As the park began to spin before her eyes, she finally recognized the odd sensation trickling through her body.

      Why me? was her last thought as she fainted dead away.

      AS JACK TESSON scooped the unconscious woman into his arms, he raised his eyes heavenward, deciding some saint up there had finally cut him some slack. Maybe all those years at the hands of the St. Michael’s Parochial School nuns had finally paid off. No doubt Sister Katherine, who’d thrown him out at least twice a year, and his grandparents, who’d punished him by making him scrub floors in the restaurant/bar they owned, would say she was the devil’s temptation incarnate. Certainly not a woman for “Wild Jack” Tesson.

      “Mon Dieu,” he whispered, gazing down at her beautiful oval face. Though she looked angelic, he knew from staring up the ladder that her lacy purple underwear was anything but virtuous.

      Ben Kimball raced toward him. “Skyler?”

      Perfect name for an angel, Jack thought, even as the medic in Jack finally overrode the man. “She fainted.” Wait a minute. Skyler? The guys at the firehouse had mentioned her. “Your sister?”

      As Ben nodded, Jack realized why those bright baby blue eyes of hers had seemed so familiar. The worried and frustrated version of them stared back at him from his captain’s face.

      “Let’s get her to the truck,” Ben said.

      As they rushed to the ambulance, they picked up a trail of curious bystanders, one being Ben’s younger brother, Steve.

      His expression fierce, Steve ordered, “Get her on a back board.”

      “She just fainted,” his brother explained as they reached the back of the ambulance.

      A grin tugged the corners of Steve’s mouth. “Naturally.” The brothers exchanged a troubled, but affectionate look.

      Jack gently laid Skyler on the stretcher Ben pulled from the ambulance bay, pressing his fingers against her wrist and taking her pulse as he did so. A little fast. He fitted an oxygen mask over her face, while Ben hovered, watching his every move. “She’s fainted before?”

      “Oh, yeah,” Steve said, sitting on the back bumper.

      Jack pulled a stethoscope from a med kit to check Skyler’s heart. As the rhythmic beats reverberated in his ears, she moaned, and he tried to ignore the soft skin beneath his fingers, the tan line along the slope of her breast. He’d worked on patients he’d found attractive before, but never with this level of intensity. Never had one smile and a wide-eyed stare from a pair of baby blue eyes brought him practically to his knees.

      He glanced over at his colleagues as he checked Skyler’s extremities for injuries, noting a thin cut on her forearm that he cleaned with antiseptic. “Is she pregnant?”

      Fists clenched at his sides, Steve leapt to his feet. “She better damn well not be.”

      Ben grabbed his brother’s shoulder, shoving him back down. “Cool it, little brother. She’s not pregnant.”

      “How do you know?” Steve countered, his eyes narrowed.

      “Because you or Wes would have killed the