Page 8 of Airhead

But instead of telling him that, she simply shrugged and said, “Oh you’ve got me all figured out.”

“Not even close,” he said in a low, gravelly voice that sounded way more serious than he usually was. “Well, guess I’ll be on my way.”

He turned and started to walk across the parking lot toward the corner. Katie watched, dumbfounded—but not so much that she missed the way his broad shoulders stretched his T-shirt, before coming to her senses. Let Frank Hartigan have the last word? Not in this lifetime.

“That’s it?” she called, stalking after him. She nearly caught up with him as words started tumbling out of her mouth. “You’re not going to turn on the charm? Pop your pecs? Do that grin thing you do with other women?”

She winced the second she could stop herself from saying more. There were times when that Madigan big mouth thing was too much truth, and not enough story.

Frank stopped only a single step in front of her. Slowly, he turned around, his lips curled into an all-too-knowing smile. “You been watching me?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Liar.” He closed the distance between them, flexing his hands but keeping them at his sides, before leaning down so his lips practically touched her ear and whispering, “But maybe next time we run into each other, I’ll do the grin thing.”

Katie couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She wasn’t sure what her own name was. But she did know that the giant jerk of a man had her entire being tuned into him. What would he do next? Would he kiss her? Nibble her earlobe? Hook his fingers into the belt loops of her jeans and yank her against him? She didn’t know. For once in her life, she had no freaking idea what was going to happen next. Whatever it was, she wanted it badly.

So.

Very.

Very.

Badly.

Eyes closed, lips parted in anticipation, she didn’t dare move. But the air around her did, and she opened her eyes to find Frank two steps back, his jaw clenched and his mouth in a grim line.

“Drive safe, Katie,” he said, his voice tight.

And then he left. He just turned around and walked down the street in the direction of the firehouse two blocks down, leaving Katie… well, wanting…and embarrassed…and overheated…and mortified…and—God so many damn things.

What had just happened? She was Katie Madigan. She always knew what someone was going to do next. She knew when her mom was going to sneak out into the alley to light up the Marlboros she’d sworn she quit. She knew when her brothers were getting ready to pull a prank. She knew when Connie was about to give in and let The Creep have another chance. She knew when her third graders were sneaking bubble gum in class. She knew. She always knew.

But not this time—and there was no way she was going to let Frank get away with that.

Chapter Four

Grin thing?

What in the fuck was the grin thing? Frank had spent the past four hours at the firehouse trying to figure it out and he still had no clue.

Sure he smiled. He smirked. He probably even fucking grinned, but what was a grin thing?

Was it good? Bad? Gag-me-with-a-spoon gross?

Did she like it, or hate it, or get all weirded out by it?

Should he never do it again, or should he be doing it all the time?

What he’d give for a fire call right now. False alarm, abandoned building, car fire on the parkway, anything to give him something more to do than mop the floors or check the water hoses for wear and tear. Yeah, all of that needed to happen, but it gave him too much time in his head, and he wasn’t exactly a thinkin’ guy kind of guy. He was a doin’ kind of guy—which explained his job choice.

Katie Madigan, though, had him spinning.

“Shannahan,” he hollered at the guy working the scrub brush over the front of the aerial truck. “What’s it mean when a woman says ‘you do a grin thing?’”

The other man stopped mid-motion, puffed up his chest, and gave him the kind of cocky look that had Frank immediately realizing he’d made a horrible mistake.

“Fuck if I know,” Shannahan said, “but I can tell you all about the ‘leg over one shoulder while holding her ass up thing.’”