Flaming Desire - Part 3 (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) Page 5

  “I’m sorry about before,” he whispered. His head was close to mine, so close that I felt his forehead resting on the back of my skull. His breath caused goosebumps to rise along my neck. I felt his breath near my ear.

  I said nothing.

  “I am a billionaire,” he continued to whisper. “But I give most of it away. That’s why I wasn’t worried about the woman and her family the other morning. As you were. I made sure that she, her children, and the baby would be cared for, provided for.”

  It took me a moment to process what Matt was saying. I tried to turn slightly toward him, but he tightened his arm around my waist, preventing me from looking at him. I couldn’t have seen him anyway. It was pitch black in the tent. “What do you mean?” I whispered.

  He shrugged. “She and the kids are already living in an apartment—”

  “You got them an apartment?” I gasped, surprised. Pleased, but surprised.

  “Yes. She won’t have to pay any rent for six months. That should give her time to get back on her feet.”

  Though I was still determined to be wary, I couldn’t help but feel impressed by Matt’s generosity. He hadn’t known the woman, and yet he had done such a nice thing for her and her children. “That was nice…” My harsh feelings toward him ebbed slightly.

  “Jesse, there are things that you don’t know about me,” he continued. “There are some parts of my life that only belong to me, and until I’m ready to share them, with anybody, that’s where they need to stay.”

  I imagined that he was talking about the loss of his wife and child. I wanted to say something, but then I didn’t want him to get mad at Sam, who he’d surely realize was the one who had told me about one of the most painful times of his life. I wondered why Matt was so unwilling to open up about it. Then again, just because I was willing to spill my guts about my past didn’t mean that he should be obligated to do the same.

  We all grieved differently.

  His next words caused me to stiffen.

  “Jesse, I’m not ready… let’s just focus on fighting this fire, and then we’ll see what happens. For now, let’s just keep things superficial; the way we have been.”

  I said nothing. Superficial? Is that what he thought about our relationship, our friendship, our sexual attraction to one another? Sharing our bodies and giving each other pleasure was superficial? He had touched the deepest parts of my soul, not only with his compassion, but with his hands, his tongue, and his lips. Superficial?

  I knew better.

  Just because he wasn’t ready to express his feelings didn’t mean they weren’t there. He was protecting himself, just as surely as I was. He could keep on believing that what we had between us was superficial, but I wasn’t so sure.

  “Matt, I’m not putting any pressure on you,” I said. “But surely you can’t deny—”

  “No strings, Jesse,” he whispered.

  His breath, so warm against my neck, just the slightest breeze on my ear. My heart began to thud. What was he trying to say? That all he wanted from me was sex? Was that all it had ever been? Just sex? Despite my own insistence that I didn’t need a relationship right now, that I didn’t need to be distracted by anything or anyone while I was up here in Montana, I felt an ache starting in my heart. Dammit!

  “You understand what I’m saying, Jesse?”

  I did. I just didn’t want to admit it. It was at that moment that I realized I felt more than affection for him. I had fallen for him. I had fallen in love with Matt Drake. In the matter of a week or so, I had fallen hard, and the realization was so startling, so stark, that for several moments I held my breath. Yet, at the very moment I realized I loved Matt Drake, he was telling me that he didn’t want anything permanent, that he wanted everything to be superficial.

  Too late for that.

  “I understand,” I whispered. I was glad that I didn’t have to speak any louder, for he surely would have noticed the tremor in my voice. You stupid fool, I told myself. You stupid fool!

  To be completely honest and fair, I realized that Matt had never made any promises, and neither had I. We had enjoyed our liaison, no doubt about it. When it first began, I was the one who realized there could be no strings, nothing permanent.

  But that was then. This was now.

  He said nothing for several moments, and then, after placing a gentle kiss against the nape of my neck, he rolled over, back into his own sleeping bag. As warm tears gathered between my eyelids, I blinked them back, refusing to let them flow. His warmth had left me, and I felt tired. I felt… alone. My emotions in a dither, I tried to concentrate on breathing, deeply, slowly, and calmly.

  I wasn’t a little kid. I was a grown woman. I was a grown woman, long beyond the expectations of a high school girl who could demand attention and affection from her high school crush. I had known, going into this, that neither one of us had mentioned anything about a relationship. It had been about sex. Hot, passionate, wet sex. And I, stupid fool that I was, had charged full steam ahead, seduced by Matt’s sexual charisma, his persona, his good looks, and his character. I hadn’t asked for anything in return. Nor would I. He had given me pleasure, and I had done the same.

  No, I couldn’t be angry with Matt for wanting a superficial relationship. It wasn’t his fault that I had fallen for him. It wasn’t his fault that I had been so captivated by everything about him. It wasn’t his fault that I wanted him so badly, sexually and emotionally.

  No, that was my fault.

  I just didn’t know what to do about it.

  Chapter 4

  By the next morning when I woke up and crawled out of my sleeping bag, Matt was gone. I found him in the dining tent, nursing a cup of coffee. I didn’t go in right away. Outside the tent stood two too large wooden style, short barrels that held a variety of granola bars, nutrition bars, protein bars and honey sticks. The honey sticks looked like straws, but were filled with natural honey, an excellent, quickly absorbed source of energy. I grabbed several and shoved them into my side leg pockets. The protein and granola bars were filled with sugar, but I also knew they were a good, quick source of energy. Working as hard as I did, I knew that my body would grow weak with hunger in a matter of hours if I didn’t keep supplying it with fuel.

  Unable to help myself, I looked toward Matt again and was startled to see him looking back. At his raised eyebrows and gesture, I joined him. I said nothing for several moments, not quite sure what to say.

  “Are we good?” he asked in between sips.

  I nodded, even though my heart still felt heavy and an odd sense of disappointment had me a little off balance. “We’re good,” I said. Still, because the relationship—or whatever we had—seemed a little off kilter now, I wasn’t sure what to expect or what I wanted. I certainly wasn’t going to go chasing after somebody who wasn’t interested. Besides, I convinced myself, I really didn’t have the time or the luxury to be involved in a relationship anyway.

  I knew that such thoughts were only my self-defense mechanisms kicking in; that I was trying to convince myself that it didn’t really matter whether Matt liked me as much as I liked him. I shook my head. I sounded like a silly schoolgirl upset because she liked the guy more than he liked her. But I had to be honest about it. Until Matt came along, I had been perfectly content, hadn’t I?

  My shifts at the hospital kept me busy. Out here on the fire line, the last thing I needed to be doing was hankering after a guy. I needed to concentrate on the job ahead. I certainly had many questions about Matt, but for the moment, I wasn’t going to press. If he wanted to continue the relationship, well then, that was different, and I would expect him to eventually open up to me. After all, wasn’t that what relationships were all about? Sharing?

  “We’re going to be at the top of the fire line today, closer to the ridge.”

  I glanced at him and nodded. It was often that way, with one crew trading places with another, depending on need. Besides, everyone needed a break. I knew that crew would be p
ut somewhere useful. “Containment?”

  He shook his head. “Not even ten percent yet,” he said. “There was talk last night about the wind shifting, but it seems to be holding. If it shifts when we’re up there, it could get a little tricky.”

  I nodded. I knew how quickly the wind could change everything when it came to fighting wildfire. I knew how fast fire could travel when buffeted by a wind, how far embers could fly on a breeze. “I’m going to grab a tray of something to eat before it’s all gone.”

  I finished my coffee, then carried the coffee cup and returned to the cooking trailer, where men and women began to line up for a quickly served tray of scrambled eggs, bacon, and—as long as it lasted—biscuits and gravy. Matt was right behind me. He seemed so quiet, so… different? How was that possible? Could my simple question cause that kind of a change in someone’s personality, or their feelings toward me? I hadn’t asked him about his family. I didn’t ask him where he got all that money. It wasn’t about that. It was about sharing. It wasn’t as if I’d been asking him to make any promises!

  I think what was eating at me most was the fact that I had bared my soul to him and he wasn’t willing to reciprocate. I did understand that his feelings were his own and if he didn’t want to talk about them, he didn’t have to. Still… dammit… it did make me feel a little bit concerned.

  I don’t know why I had thought so, but I had been hoping that us working together as Hotshots could bring us together, not as lovers so much as just friends—good friends. Matt was a fascinating person. I wanted to know more about him. There was no doubt in the world that I was attracted to him, so what was wrong with wanting to get to know him a little better?

  Perhaps being rich did that to you. Maybe it made you wary of people; cautious of why they wanted to get to know you. I got that. But Matt and I had developed a rapport before I found out about his money. I thought he knew the kind of person I was. Did he think I was some kind of gold-digger or something? I shook my head.

  It seemed that the more curious I became about Matt, the more he pulled away. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t interested in a relationship. Did that mean that we couldn’t be friends and that he couldn’t confide in me like one? I don’t mean the way girls confided in girls; I knew men didn’t tend to do that. I just wanted him to feel comfortable enough with me to tell me what he was thinking, that’s all.

  That’s all, wasn’t it?

  As I waited in line for my turn to grab a tray, I glanced over my shoulder, thinking that maybe this was something that I needed to explain to Matt. Reaffirm his request for superficial and that I wouldn’t add any pressure to his life. When I did though, I saw that he had dropped back in line a couple of places and was now speaking with Sam.

  He was smiling down at her. She had her arm wrapped around his waist. I turned forward quickly, tamping down the surge of envy that swept through me. They were old friends, had known each other for years. I didn’t need to be jealous of Sam. Still, it was obvious that the two did share a history, even if it was a history of heartache and tragedy. Like my past, Matt also had devastation in his. At least he had been able to share it with someone. If not with me, then so be it.

  It was finally my turn to step up into the trailer, and I did, grabbing a tray from a stack by the door. Without saying a word, the crew inside dumped a large ladle-sized spoonful of scrambled eggs on my plate. The next person added two pieces of sausage and two pieces of bacon. The next one in line added a biscuit. She glanced up at me apologetically. No more gravy, I supposed. Well, it didn’t matter. I made my way through the trailer and out the back door, before returning to the dining tent.

  In a matter of moments, Matt and Sam joined me, both of them sitting on the opposite side of the table from me. I smiled politely at Sam, then dug into breakfast, knowing it would probably be the only good meal I’d have today. After that, I’d live on the granola and protein bars I’d tucked into my pockets earlier.

  “We’ll be near the top of the ridge today,” Matt said, looking down at Sam. “What about you?”

  “I’m heading over to the fire line on the southwestern slope. One of the guys there took a bad stumble and it looks like he’s broken his collarbone. Out of action for the duration.”

  From where I sat looking outside the tent, it looked like the entire mountain range was on fire. The orange glow hovering over the mountaintops seemed to stretch for miles. The clouds of smoke looked like they came from dozens of volcanoes, blocking out any hint of blue sky above.

  While Matt’s Hotshot team, and mine temporarily, were concentrating on this mountain and its northern and southern slopes, I knew that if the fire couldn’t be at least a little bit contained today in one or two areas to the north and south, the entire fire line would have to be pulled back. I glanced at Sam. “Any idea how this fire started?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve heard a couple of different scenarios. Lightning being one of them. Problem is, we haven’t had any rain or any lightning warnings appear up here in over a week. Not even some decent cloud cover.”

  “The other?” Matt asked, taking a bit of sausage.

  “Careless camper,” she replied. She sipped her coffee, shaking her head. “Happens every summer, doesn’t it? I just don’t get it. People just don’t think.” She looked up at the mountain.

  I saw tears glistening in her eyes. I stared at her moment, surprised, and then glanced at Matt.

  “Sam’s a vet—”

  “Every time I see a dead squirrel, a deer scampering for safety, the coyotes and the wolves… it’s awful,” she said. “The other day I saw a bear and her cubs; they’d tried to huddle in a thicket…”

  I knew it wasn’t just the sight of animals scampering for life, or coming across the charred carcasses of those that hadn’t made it; it was the fact that the eco-system would be destroyed for years. The animals who had scavenged on the slopes for food would have to find new territory. That meant a burden on another piece of land, not to mention the destruction of the forests and underbrush that would take years, if not decades, to replenish

  Come fall and early winter rains and snowfall, we would see more flooding and mudslides, adding to the devastation. Downslope, ranchers and farmers would have to deal with flooded fields, ruined crops, less feed for their cattle. It went on and on.

  In many cases, wildfires were left to burn themselves out especially if they were caused by nature itself. It was part of life here in the wilderness. But I agreed with Sam. I doubted this fire had been caused by a lightning strike. More than likely a careless camper, a recklessly flicked cigarette, or perhaps even on purpose. Down in Colorado there had been talk of an arsonist who had started numerous fires and was even under suspicion for starting the Waldo Canyon fire down near Colorado Springs, although they were still looking for information regarding that.

  I shook my head. “It’s sad, Sam, no doubt about it.”

  Matt looked at me and then placed a comforting arm around Sam’s shoulder, giving her a gentle shake.

  “Snap out of it,” he urged. “We’re doing the best we can, and the sooner we get this fire out, the better it will be for everyone—animals, nature, and man.”

  She nodded and offered him a grateful smile but said nothing. She wasn’t the only one with a heavy heart this morning. Matt wasn’t exactly ignoring me, but he was definitely playing it cool. I didn’t want to push things or upset the apple cart.

  As I excused myself and placed my empty tray atop others stacked just before the entrance to the tent, I knew that I would have to—sooner or later—determine what exactly it was that I expected from Matt Drake. The sooner I figured that out, the better off I’d be, either way.

  ***

  The crew truck carried Matt, myself, and another group of Hotshots toward the area we had worked yesterday. Then, Matt, I, and several of his other Hotshot crew members—I couldn’t remember their names—headed upslope, weaving our way single file up the mountainside. For now, I didn’t see flames to
pping the ridge, which was a good thing. Maybe the wind had shifted just enough to blow the fire back on itself, creating a natural firebreak. At the same time, I curtailed wishful thinking, knowing that in the next hour, the next few minutes, things could change.

  I followed Matt up the slope, trying to watch where I placed my feet. The soil was loose. At the same time, I found it very hard not to stare at Matt’s broad shoulders, his narrow waist, the way his hips moved, the way his buttocks so nicely filled his pants.

  Unbidden, I recalled the feel of his cock in my hand the previous day, so soft on the surface, so hard underneath. Like Matt. An odd combination of hard and soft.

  At one point, so enthralled with the sway of his hips that I didn’t watch where I was stepping, I stumbled over an exposed shrub root or something and fell forward. I crashed into Matt. As he tried to catch his balance, and to keep myself from falling to the ground, I grabbed at his belt. He twisted around, trying to grab me. Before I knew it, the side of my face was pressed into his groin. It all happened so quickly. I tried to laugh off my embarrassment as he reached his arms beneath mine and lifted me upward. He glanced down at me with a lifted eyebrow. I felt my face flush with heat, especially when the guys walking behind us had seen what happened.

  “Sorry, Matt,” I mumbled. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  He said nothing, but gazed down at me, a slight grin turning up the corner of his mouth. “What were you watching, Jesse?” He asked the question low under his breath. Without waiting for an answer, he turned around and continued up the slope.

  It wasn’t long before my calf muscles definitely began to feel the climb. I carried a long-handled ax in one hand. A shovel was tied to my backpack, which we all wore today. I carried a nearly half-gallon sized canteen strapped to my belt.