Promises by Jo Barrett Page A

  Barbara McBride was a very desirable woman.   One he didn’t think he’d be able to keep at arms’ length.   That was bad.   Real bad.   He knew from experience he couldn’t protect her if he didn’t keep things completely professional between them.  
    Without saying a word, she straightened the covers and put the first-aid supplies back into the case.  
    So that’s the way things were going to be.   Ignore what almost happened.   Ignore the sparks flying between them, and there were definitely sparks.  
    Okay, he could do that.   He needed to do that.   Sure, no problem.  
    Well, maybe.   He’d at least try to ignore the incredible need to kiss her, and hold her, and — hell, everything.   He knew one taste of her wouldn’t be enough.  
    Adjusting the covers so he could examine her handiwork and better hide his aroused state, he looked down at his leg.   “You do nice work.   Thanks.”
    “You’re welcome, but I don’t plan on doing it again any time soon.   So, stay put.   Understand?”   The snippy tone of her voice only served to prove how the current flowing between them affected her.  
    He couldn’t stop the satisfied grin stealing across his face.   “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Would you knock off the ma’am bit?”
    “Whatever you say — darlin’.”
    With a growl, she snatched up the first-aid kit, slammed it onto the nightstand, and stomped off once again.   This time Rocky followed her.   A few seconds later, he heard what he assumed to be the front door slamming shut.  
    He chuckled lowly.   He did so love ruffling Bobbi’s feathers.   She was still all sass and spunk, and turned such a nice shade of pink when he teased her.   But she was definitely not a kid any longer.  
    He imagined how beautiful her unusual eyes would be without the contacts, and how they’d darken when they made love.
    “When?   Oh, boy.”   He raked a hand down his face.   Yep, he was getting in deep, all right, and she was his best friend’s sister, for crying out loud.   He had to think like a brother, not a lover.  
    He wondered if Jase ever suspected how he felt about Bobbi.   Had his friend really gone out of his way to keep them apart?  
    Whenever they were supposed to meet, an innocent dinner on one of her many visits to D.C., something invariably interfered.  
    Travis nodded slightly at the thought.   His buddy knew he was attracted to her, that he was more than casually interested.   If he ever thought Jase felt the same way about one of his sisters, he would have done the same thing.   Jase knew he was all wrong for her.   Yet that not-so-small reminder didn’t cool the blazing heat steadily running through his body from her touch.  
    Throwing off the blanket, he left only the sheets to cover him and settled back against the pillows.   He had to keep his mind on his job.   Her life — their lives depended on it.
    A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance.   Looking to the window, he watched the rain pelt against the glass.   What was she doing outside in this stuff?
    The image of her soaking wet, her sweater clinging to her soft supple skin, renewed the smoldering heat low in his gut.   How could he maintain control if the mere thought of her made him hotter than scotch bonnet peppers?
    “You can’t,” he snarled.  
    But he had to.   No matter how good she looked, he couldn’t have her in any way, shape, or form.   She was not only his best friend’s sister, she wasn’t the type of girl who took sex lightly.   Bobbi had forever written all over her, and that was something he couldn’t give her.
    He absently rubbed his shoulder, his finger following the ridge of an old ragged scar.   Forever wasn’t for him.   His life was fine the way it was.   No complications, freedom to come and go as he pleased, a little shapely female companionship when and where he wanted it.   Why would he want to tie himself down?  
    What he needed to do was get Bobbi