A Firefighter in Her Stocking

“No catch. Just offering to share my dinner.” He glanced toward the burned remains of her toast. “And looking out for my own interests of having an uninterrupted meal, of course. I don’t want you attempting more toast and setting your alarm off again.”

“Ha-ha. Real funny. The only reason my toast caught fire is because I was so tired.” And had been distracted by thoughts of him, but she wasn’t telling him that part.

“Fine. You can take a cat nap on my sofa while I finish up dinner.”

As if.

“What are you serving?” she ventured out of curiosity, but with no intention of even entertaining the possibility of actually agreeing to have dinner with him. “I might prefer burnt toast.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You won’t. We’re having Chicken Marsala served on a bed of angel-hair pasta, steamed asparagus with a light butter sauce, and a red wine because I prefer red to white.”

Of course he did. Red stood for passion and white was just bland, right? Jude was a red kind of guy.

She blinked. “Are you for real?”

“You could pinch me and find out.”

His eyes twinkled with that sparkle that had her heart doing funny floppy things in her chest.

“You wish.”

* * *

Jude did wish.

As crazy as the thought was, he wanted Sarah to pinch him.

Not to see if he was real, but to wake him up because he was moving in some type of haze.

What was he thinking, inviting her to dinner? Not about how beautiful she was without her thick glasses blocking her face.

She was, but he was being a good neighbor.

That was it.

He wasn’t inviting her to his place for anything more.

Even if she did have gorgeous eyes, amazing cheekbones, and full, pink, kissable lips.

“Is that how you lure women to your apartment? With promises of feeding them?”

“Something like that,” he answered, wondering why she thought the worst of him when it came to women.

Maybe through her eyes, there were too many women, and maybe, if he was honest, he’d admit to it as well.

But he never deceived any of them or made promises he had no intention of keeping. They all knew the score. He was a one-night-stand kind of guy and the women he invited to his apartment came for one reason.

It wasn’t so Jude could cook for them.

Sarah wasn’t like the women he brought to his apartment for sex.

“I’m not interested in being lured to your apartment.”

Suddenly feeling weary, restless, and as if maybe Sarah was right not to want to come to his apartment, he sighed. “I’m inviting you to my apartment to eat dinner.” He put emphasis on the word. “You’re tired. I’m tired. We’ve both had a long day. I want a good meal, to relax, and a good night’s rest, Sarah. Nothing more. My invitation to feed you is with no strings attached and no hidden motives to trick you into my bed.”

He’d never had any need to trick women into his bed. There was always one ready and willing to fill the empty spot in his life.

Tonight he’d just wanted to be alone.