Red Hot. Lisa Childs

      “Hello?” Wyatt Andrews called out. “There wasn’t anyone at the reception desk.”

      Fiona regretted now that she’d been so tired she’d forgotten to lock the outside door. She hadn’t minded Matthew coming inside, but she would have rather not seen Wyatt Andrews again.

      “Hey, Wyatt!” Matt turned around and grabbed the bigger man in a tight embrace. And there was that adoration with which he used to look at Fiona when they were kids.

      Wyatt flinched and eased back. And Fiona gasped at the bruise on his handsome face.

      “What the hell happened to you?” Matt asked.

      Wyatt shrugged. “Bar fight...”

      “I should’ve been there,” her brother said. “I would’ve had your back.”

      “You’re not twenty-one,” she reminded him. He was too young to be in a bar, much less in a bar fight. He was also much too young to decide on a career that could cost him his life.

      Matthew glared at her before turning back to his idol. “I’m sure the other guy looks worse.”

      “Guys,” Wyatt corrected him.

      And encouraged him. Fiona could almost see her brother’s admiration grow. She was right in thinking that Wyatt had influenced Matthew’s decision. Matthew didn’t just want to be like him; he wanted to be him.

      “What was the fight about?” Matthew asked. “Did you steal someone’s girl?”

      “I didn’t steal anyone,” Wyatt said. And he glanced at her over her brother’s shoulder.

      Matthew laughed and playfully punched his shoulder. “You wouldn’t have to—all the women just want to be with you because you’re a Huron Hotshot!”

      Wyatt turned the bruised side of his face toward them. “And I thought it was because I’m so damn good-looking...”

      He was—even with the bruise. It had done nothing to detract from his appeal. If anything, it had added to his attractiveness, giving him that air of danger women like Fiona’s mother craved. But not Fiona...

      “No sensible woman would want to get involved with a man who constantly risks his life,” Fiona said. So where had her sense gone? Why had she let images of Wyatt Andrews keep her awake all night?

      Matthew snorted. “Who wants sensible women?”

      Definitely not a twenty-year-old kid. And probably not a thirty-year-old playboy firefighter who got into bar brawls. Tammy had been crazy to think Fiona would be able to use her limited feminine wiles to influence Wyatt to help her.

      But she needed help. She wouldn’t be able to convince Matthew on her own. If anything, her objections seemed to make him more determined to follow through with his dangerous plan.

      “What are you doing here?” Matthew asked. He glanced nervously from one of them to the other.

      Fiona had been wondering that herself. She doubted he’d lain awake thinking about her. Hell, he probably hadn’t gone home alone—after he’d returned to the club to help his friend. He’d definitely been the most attractive man in the place.

      Wyatt shrugged broad shoulders. “I have an appointment to talk...”

      They hadn’t made an official appointment. They hadn’t had time before he’d rushed back inside the club.

      Matthew turned to her, and his brown eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What are you doing?”

      She gestured toward her desk. “Working...” It was what she was usually doing—making sure people were protected. That was what she was trying to do for Matthew, but he wouldn’t appreciate her protection. He would see it only as interference.

      “Yeah,” Wyatt agreed. “I’m here to talk insurance.”

      The suspicion didn’t leave Matthew’s eyes—even as he turned to look at his idol. “Like you would ever worry about being insured...”

      “I didn’t agree to buy anything,” Wyatt said. “I just agreed to talk.” He glanced at his watch. “But I don’t have much time.”

      Matthew looked between them again. He obviously wasn’t buying that Wyatt had come to her office for an insurance appointment. But he respected him too much to call him a liar.

      He respected him so much that he would listen to him—if Fiona could make Wyatt listen to her. She had to make him listen.

      Matthew shot her a glare before he turned and headed out the door. He patted Wyatt’s shoulder as he passed him. “I’ll catch you later.”

      He made no promises to see her again. His showing up at her office had been unusual. But he’d known his call, telling her that he’d dropped out of college to become a firefighter, had upset her the day before. Had he come to check on her? Or had he been worried about what she might have done to stop him?