“Typical woman. Barely seconds old and already causing trouble.”

She mock punched his shoulder. “We do like to make our mark.”

“Yes, you do.” He took her hand, measured it against his huge one. She loved how feminine he made her feel with the smallest of gestures. Chair pulling, coat doffing, enveloping her in the embrace of his big body. They stayed like that for a while, okay with being quiet.

After a few moments, he spoke again. “It’s going to kill me if Shadow doesn’t make it, Alexandra. Coming home to him is the best part of my day.”

She nodded, while inside her heart squeezed at his pain.

“Best part of his day, too, I bet. He gets so excited when he sees you.” He wasn’t the only one. Alex’s heart beat like that of an eager puppy faced with its owner every time she saw Eli Cooper. It had been like that from the first moment she met him in Smith & Jones all those months ago, and every encounter since just increased the pounding until she wondered if her stupid love muscle might give out from the exertion. Just up and collapse.

She traced his jaw with her finger, loving how strong it felt under her touch. Along the seam of his sensuous lips, she ran her thumb. How could those lips be so soft? All the time, he watched her with that heart-wrenching Eli Cooper intensity.

“Tonight, when Tom came to tell me about Shadow, I thought—” He broke off, and in his eyes, she saw stormy emotion that seeded dangerous hope in her chest. “I thought you were hurt, Alexandra. I knew you weren’t on shift at Engine 6, but when Tom told me something had happened, I feared the worst. I did not enjoy the feeling.”

Her heart flip-flopped at his concern for her, but she needed to nip this in the bud. “Eli, I can’t promise nothing will ever happen to me, but you’re looking at a well-trained firefighting machine who works with the best platoon in CFD. Good firefighters feel the fire, understand the limits, and know when to pull back. And I’m a damn good firefighter.”

Color flagged his cheeks. “Almost a month ago, you put your life in danger to save mine. I’ve since learned that giving a civilian your air is not SOP.”

“Paperwork for a dead mayor is a bitch.”

“Honey—”

She touched her fingers to his lips. “I like pink, but I worry that it’s too feminine, so I keep it to my underwear. I cry at Super Bowl Budweiser commercials, but I make sure I’ve watched them online first so no one can poke at me on game day. All my life I’ve been living on a knife’s edge between what it means to be a woman and what’s expected of me. In my job, with the guys I’ve dated, from my brothers. They want to protect me and all I can see is their love, which crushes me because I worry it diminishes their respect for the part of me that’s a professional first responder.” She took a breath. “I guess what I’m asking is: what am I to you, Eli? Am I a woman or a firefighter?”

She was difficult and unruly, and she needed the man who could handle her. Her guts and her glory, because damn it, she was worth that. Eli’s attentions to her so far were distinctly of the me-Tarzan-you-Jane variety, and while she adored the hormone overdose in her body whenever he was near, she craved his respect equally.

Those steely eyes took her measure. “Just two choices, Alexandra? Why limit yourself?”

She pressed her lips against a smile. Hell and damn, this guy did it for her like no one else. “Well, there’s also ‘bitch.’ If someone doesn’t call me that at least once every twenty-four hours, I figure the day for a failure.” At his frown, she rushed on over the emotion clotting her throat. “There are worse things, don’t you think? They’re just names, and sometimes I relish them because men who call me names are scared. Scared little boys who feel threatened by my all-round awesomeness.”

“Woman, firefighter, or bitch? However do I choose?” He twisted his fingers in her hair and pulled her close enough to share his breath. “What you are to me is . . . Alexandra. And she defies categorization.”

Something melted inside her. Her heart, perhaps, or her lungs, given the sudden breathing difficulty. It was a moment before she could speak.

“Eli, the night of the fire I assessed the situation and made the call based on the risk-reward. You were worth the risk and now I’m reaping my reward.”

That threw him. Was the idea of having someone in his corner that unexpected? She supposed the constant attacks on his character had to be wearisome.

“Not so sure I’m worth the risk. I’m not a very nice person.”

“Yet I’m here.”

“Should I be jealous of my dog?”

She buried her joy in his dark, wavy hair. “You might have Hollywood looks, dubious charm, great hair, and a giant penis, Eli Cooper, but that puppy of yours is the real selling point.”

He laughed, long and hard, the deep bass tone drawing the attention of the receptionist, and Alex joined in, thrilled to have taken his mind off his troubles, if only for a moment. Hugging her close, he sank his weary head into the curve of her neck.

She had no problem being his anchor. People rarely understood that she was actually as strong as she looked.

 CHAPTER NINETEEN

For the first time since he had become the mayor of Chicago, Eli was contemplating something he had never, ever done:

Sleeping in.

Of course, this shocking turn of events was only made possible because he had found someone worth sleeping in with. She was here. Snoring softly. Drooling a touch. The incomparable Alexandra Dempsey.

Likely sensing that he was sleep-stalking her, she turned over, blissfully naked, and snuggled all those warm, womanly curves in close.

“You’re here,” she muttered in a rusty voice, eyes still shuttered.

“I am.”

One eye crept open cautiously. “But it’s—what time is it?”

“Just before seven.”

She bolted upright, breasts in an erotic sway, hair in that rumpus he adored. “It’s happened, then.”

“What?”

“Insert your preferred apocalypse here. Because that could be the only reason why Eli Cooper is not on his laptop or phone, scheming, planning, or shouting at somebody.”

He pulled her down into his arms and kissed her. “Yes, the apocalypse has happened. And it’s called Alexandra Dempsey.”

She thumped his shoulder. Ouch. His sexy firewoman could pack a punch. “So if the city falls apart, I’m to blame?”

“Politicians always pass the buck. You know that.”

She growled and burrowed further. “Did you call the vet?”

“Yep. He slept okay, vitals are good, even had something to eat. I’ll go pick him up at nine and bring him home.” To think how close he had come to losing the one constant in his life—well, the one after the woman in his bed. Finding your heart lying outside your chest and in the form of a curvy, thrill-seeking firefighter was disturbing, to say the least.

“So, nine you say,” she murmured, carnal slyness in her tone.

“I did, you minx. Turn over.”

“That’s more like it.” When she twisted away from him, her eyes widened in surprise, reflected in the full-length mirror he had moved opposite about ten minutes ago.

“No, that’s more like it,” he murmured against the delicate shell of her ear.

“You’ve been busy,” she said on a breathy sigh. “Rearranging the furniture.”

Those moss-green eyes darkened with desire. He moved back the sheet just enough to reveal her curvaceous nakedness but still retain the heat of the blanketed cocoon. His hand ghosted over her hip, danced along her ribs, before landing where it belonged on her full, soft breast.

“You’ve accused me of lacking substance”—he molded her warm flesh—“and of being vain”—he feathered his fingers down the curve of her belly—“and of spending hours looking at my own reflection. Figure I may as well play to this image you have of me.”