Uncovered

“No shit?” Harris forgot his fatigue for the moment and muscled his way next to Ethan. Yep, sure enough, that was an unclothed female. A very sexy, naked female. “Wow.”

Harris picked up one photo of her reclining facedown on a twin bed. Her mussed hair was long enough to hide her face, but who cared when she had a beautifully bare backside on display? Harris tried, but he couldn’t look away.

“Check out this one.” Ethan handed him another.

The same woman, judging by the shape of her body, was stepping into the tub. Again, she had her face averted as she moved the shower curtain aside, but this shot showed her entire body in profile. Breasts, belly, long sleek thighs. Harris let out a slow breath. “Hello sweetheart.”

“Wonder if she lives around here,” Ethan commented. “Or maybe she was the last one to lease the building.”

“The last person here was a guy. I never met him, but I saw him occasionally.” Harris peered toward the shoebox Ethan held. “Any more pictures in there?”

“One more—of her pulling on her panties.” Ethan laughed. “You still can’t see her face, but it’s a damn fine rear shot.”

Feeling strangely territorial, though he didn’t know why, Harris snatched the photo away from Ethan. “Let me have that.”

“Hey, I was going to keep it.”

“No way. You’d just show it to Buck and Riley.”

Ethan raised both brows. “So? How come you get to look and we don’t?”

“You must’ve forgotten, but you and Riley are married now.”

“I’m still swimming in marital bliss, so how could I forget?” He grinned as he said that.

“Then think what Rosie will do,” Harris murmured while studying the photo with rising heat, “if she catches you ogling some strange naked woman.”

Looking much struck, Ethan said, “She’d probably kill me. Here.” He shoved the entire shoebox into Harris’s arms. “There are notes and such, too. Maybe an address, since you’re so interested. And so single.”

Wincing, Harris said, “Don’t tell me you’ve taken up the campaign to get me hitched, too?”

“No, I like women too much for that.”

“Ha ha.”

“But Rosie wants you and Buck both married so I can’t be around any of your single female friends.” With a lot of satisfaction, Ethan added, “She’s a jealous little thing.”

“She trusts you.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t trust the women you two date.” Ethan strode away, giving orders as he went.

Harris didn’t bother to reply to that jab. Buck might still be going strong, but Harris hadn’t dated anyone lately. Rosie could rest easy on that score.

Now the woman in the picture…If he could look her up he just might be interested. Strolling over to lounge against the back wall of the alley, Harris held his helmet under his arm and rummaged through the shoebox. Unfortunately, he didn’t find any addresses, but he pulled out one folded sheet of paper. Confusion reigned around him, but he gave all his attention to the feminine script on the note.

I’m sorry for just leaving a note. I know you wanted me to call, but there’s no point. You’d just try to convince me to go with you, but it’s over. It’s not you, so please don’t think of this as an insult. You knew how I felt all along.

I’m hung up on Harris.

Harris’s eyes widened. Talk about coincidences. How many guys could there be with that name? It wasn’t like a Tom, Dick or Harry.

It’d be tough for any other guy to measure up to him. If being a firefighter isn’t heroic enough…

Harris nearly dropped the shoebox. Coincidence, hell! She was talking about him. Suddenly feeling on display, he glanced around the surrounding area, but no one paid him any attention. The crowd had dispersed. Those who’d stopped to watch the firefighters work were now scuffling back into their homes. The other firefighters were chatting, bitching about the weather, generally just hanging around.

Harris swallowed hard and went back to reading.

…he’s also funny. He makes me laugh all the time. And he’s so generous. You don’t notice it at first, because Harris likes to clown around, but he’s really very sensitive to other people.

No shit? Harris blinked in disbelief. She thought he was sensitive?

He works hard and he’s proud and I love him.

Again, I’m sorry.

She loved him. Wow. Harris looked, but there was no signature, damn it. He turned the note over, but no, it was blank. Who had written it? The idea of a secret admirer tantalized him, made him feel warm and full and anxious. He lifted another photo, the one of her stepping into her panties, and smiled. Sweet. Very sweet.

“Slug. Shouldn’t you be helping out instead of snooping through the garbage?”

Startled by the verbal intrusion, Harris glanced up and got snared in Clair’s disapproving green gaze. Her hair was loose, parted on the side and hanging in blunt lines to just skim the tops of her shoulders. She had her head tipped forward a bit to look at him over the rim of her glasses. Her eyes were twinkling at the pleasure of insulting him. Obviously, she didn’t consider him sensitive.

“It’s not garbage,” he grumbled.

“No?” She went on tiptoe to peer over his shoulder.

Harris held the photo out of reach. “You don’t want to see this, Clair.”

“I do too.”

“I doubt that.” He grinned, imagining her reaction if he showed her. “They’re photos.”

“That’s private. You shouldn’t be looking either.”

“Someone threw them away.” He shrugged. “Free for the pickings.”

Hands on her hips, she demanded, “Let me see, Harris.”

Prodded by the devil in him, Harris decided why not? With a flourish, he handed her the photo.

Her face went beet-red and she gasped so hard she nearly strangled. “Harris!”

“Hey, I’m not the photographer.” He winked. “I just found it.”

“That’s…that’s obscene.”

“You really think so?” He took it back from her and stared some more before murmuring with great sincerity, “Nice ass.”

“Pig.”