Heartbreakers. Lori Foster

      She smirked.

      “No, this woman was obese.” Wynn remained quiet and waiting so he continued. “The reach was awkward, and I strained something in my neck and shoulders when I lifted her out.”

      “Hmmm. Sounds like you strained a trap. That happens a lot in clumsy lifts. Turn around.”

      He stalled. “What?”

      “Trapezius muscle,” she explained.

      And Zack said, “I know what it is. I just didn’t...”

      Grabbing his upper arm, she forcibly turned him—something he allowed—and then began pressing her fingers into his neck, his shoulders, his spine. Zack groaned. Her touch had an electrifying effect that both soothed and excited.

      “Right there?” she asked, her thumbs now working some hidden muscle that reacted by going limp.

      “Yeah.” And then, “You’re good at this.”

      “I’m good at a lot of things.”

      His eyes shot open.

      “Have you been using any moist heat?”

      God, everything she said sounded sexual to his beleaguered brain. Moist. Heat. He was such a goner. “No,” he croaked. “I haven’t had a chance.”

      “Bull. You’re a paramedic, you know better than to ignore injuries. If need be, you make time. Maybe instead of hanging out with your friends you should have soaked in your hot tub.”

      His brain took a leap from her suggestion, to a vivid fantasy of them both in the hot tub, steam rising and flesh wet... “I will later.”

      “When is later?”

      Her persistence annoyed him. “Maybe after work tomorrow.”

      Her hands continued to massage and work his aching muscles. He felt like butter—like aroused butter.

      “What hours do you work?”

      That, at least, was a safe enough topic. “We’re all on a rotating schedule. Ten-hour days, four days a week. My hours are usually eight to six. The three days off vary and are almost never grouped together, but at least that way everyone gets a weekend now and then. And there’s always overtime, so my hours end up fifty or over more often than not.”

      Leaning around to see his face, Wynn asked, “Who watches Dani while you work?”

      “There’s a lady two blocks down, Eloise. She’s a real sweetheart, in her early seventies, on a fixed income. Dani adores her, and vice versa. Dani thinks of it as her second home.”

      “Any friends her own age?”

      He shrugged. “She goes to preschool two days a week, but Dani tells me most of the kids there are ‘babies.’”

      Wynn chuckled. “Yeah, I can see her thinking that. She’s used to adult company, isn’t she?”

      “Too much so. I thought the preschool would help, and she does enjoy it. One of her classmates lives in the neighborhood and she’s had Dani over for birthday parties and special outings and things like that.”

      “Mmm. Sounds like fun for her.” Hands splayed wide, Wynn worked her way down Zack’s back, over his lats, then his obliques. It was all he could do to remain standing.

      Zack didn’t mean to, but he felt so relaxed, so boneless from her massage, he heard himself confiding before he could censor himself. “She has a hard time fitting in with other girls.”

      “Oh?”

      Zack closed his eyes, but now he had no choice except to explain. “She’s...not into the same things as other little girls her age. The whole idea of playing dress-up revolts her, and she’s outraged by the idea of frilly dresses and tights.” He grinned, remembering the last time Dani had worn a dress. It had been for Mick and Del’s wedding, and she’d only agreed because Del had helped her pick it out, and Del wasn’t into lace and frills, either.

      “I was the same when I was a little girl,” Wynn said.

      Zack teased, “You mean you were little once?”

      Her thumbs pressed deep enough to make him jerk in pain. “Hey, ouch! All right, I was just teasing.”

      “I wasn’t born an oaf, you know.”

      For the briefest moment Zack wondered if he’d hurt her feelings, then decided the massage must have softened his brain as well as his muscles. Wynn wasn’t the type of woman who indulged fragile feelings.

      On the tail of that realization came another, more startling one. Good God, was there a chance his daughter would grow up to be like Wynn? Wrestling in her yard, argumentative and loud and far too bold? The very idea made him shudder. He had to find a wife, a nice delicate feminine wife who adored Dani and could, with patience and a calm quiet demeanor, guide her into being a young lady.

      “If you work fifty hours,” Wynn said, breaking into his thoughts, “I imagine some of those nights it’s pretty late when you get home.”

      “True.”

      “Do you bring Dani home?”

      “Of course.” He started to look at her, but she stilled him by working a particularly achy knot in his right deltoid. Damn, but she had wonderful fingers. “I was blessed with a real slughead for a daughter,” he told her around a heartfelt groan. “It takes a lot to wake her before she’s ready to wake. I just bundle her up and bring her home and tuck her into her own bed.”

      “If Eloise is in her seventies, how much longer do you think she can continue to baby-sit?”

      “I’ve considered that,” he murmured, his reserve now as limp as his muscles. “I’m thinking of leaving fieldwork.”

      “Yeah? To do what?” Her fingers found just the right amount of pressure, and he groaned low before he could work up the energy to answer. “Maybe be a supervisor,” he said, “or an operations manager. Or maybe I’ll instruct. I think I’d like that.”

      Wynn made a sound of interest, and her hands moved lower, over his gluteus medius, then his gluteus maximus...

      Damn, but her fingers were magic...marvelous...intimate!

      Zack jerked around to face her. “You’re seducing me!”

      She tried for an innocent expression and failed. “Naw, just copping a feel of your nice tight buns.”

      He sputtered, both outraged and stupidly complimented, and, if he was honest, vaguely turned on. Okay, more than vaguely. He felt mellow and ready. Primed even.

      She had the gall to laugh in his face, then pat his chest. “Relax, Zack, your virtue is safe with me. And you do feel better now, right?”

      He flexed, rolled his shoulders in experimentation; she was right, damn her. He gave a reluctant nod.

      “Good.” She patted him again, this time ending with a caress of his pecs. “If you tighten up again, come see me.”

      He was tight already, just not where she meant.

      “It probably wouldn’t hurt to use a little ultrasound on the affected muscles, and I can do that at the gym.”

      “I’ll be fine,” he croaked.

      She rolled her eyes. “You’re a regular superhero, aren’t you? Impervious to the needs of your body, both sexual and physical?”

      Being pushy probably came naturally to her. She’d likely been born making demands and causing conflicts. “I’m trying to do what’s right for both of us and you know it. We’re neighbors. Anything beyond a friendly association would be too difficult.”

      She gave a heavy sigh, saying, “Whatever,” and turned to leave.