UnderFire by Denise A. Agnew Page A

thud to the floor. “He said he never wanted to get married.”
    Jake still didn’t look enlightened. “So?”
    Kathleen flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “You’re
a man. You wouldn’t get it.”
    He made one of those eternally male grunts that conveyed
disagreement. “Okay, so I’m a guy. Sue me. I kind of resent your assumption
that all men are a bunch of gorillas who have no sensitivity at all.”
    His response surprised her, and so did the vehemence in his
voice. Still, she was on a roll. “He obviously doesn’t have a clue that what he
said hurt Lena.”
    Jake made another one of those male noises guaranteed to
infuriate a woman. “What are you talking about?”
    She folded her hands over her stomach and continued to peer
at the ceiling. “If Lena is falling for him, don’t you think that would make
her feel bad to hear he never wanted to get married?”
    He leaned over the bed, placed both of his hands on the bed
near her waist and peered down at her. “Maybe. Maybe not. Not all women want to
get married. We haven’t a clue what’s going on between them or what’s happening
between Matt and Melanie. We need to stay out of their business. I don’t get
involved with my brothers’ love lives. Ever. Neither should you.”
    Kathleen bristled and she glared at him. “Don’t tell me what
to do, Jake Frasier.”
    His face turned to granite, eyes distant and cool. He moved
back from the bed. “I’m not your father, Kathleen. Not even that ass we were
stuck with in the supply closet.”
    Defensiveness flared to life and old wounds split open. “Look,
it’s been a long day. Maybe we should call it a night.”
    A darkness entered his eyes, a finality that sank her heart.
    “You’re right.” He walked to the door.
    She followed him, and as he opened the door she wondered if
he’d leave without a goodbye. He stood on the threshold, his dark brows drawn
down, mouth a hard line.
    “Have a good night, Kathleen.”
    He left without another word, without a kiss. She locked the
door behind him, then leaned her forehead against it, her mind reeling and
unable to take in what she’d experienced. Today she’d felt affection from him
and a sizzle she couldn’t deny. They’d jumped off the bridge when she’d told
him she wouldn’t be bossed around. Additional anger brought frustrated tears to
her eyes. She walked to the bed and landed facedown, the urge to growl and
punch something high on the list. Maybe it was better they cut off this fling
here and now. She had no more illusions that their relationship could move
forward. She bunched the coverlet in her fists, frustrated as her anger at him
simmered. Maybe all men felt it was okay to tell a woman what to think and what
to believe and what to do. She was over that, and even the most amazing, drop-dead
gorgeous, sexy man she’d ever met couldn’t take away who she was or change how
she wanted to run her life.
    * * * * *
    The next night Jake was in Patrick’s suite. Patrick’s suite
was pretty lush, for a suite in a small hotel in Constitution. Jake took in the
surroundings as he sat at a table with Patrick, Matt and Rick with an array of
beverages in front of them. The suite featured a separate bedroom, a
kitchenette, dining table and bathroom. Cozy enough digs.
    “What’s wrong with you?” Rick asked Jake suddenly. “You’re
staring off into the distance.”
    Jake tossed back a whiskey, the only one he planned to have
the night before the wedding. “Nothing. Best I’ve been in a long time.”
    Patrick’s eyebrows went up as he sipped a beer. “Yeah? How’s
that?”
    Jake grinned but there wasn’t a damn bit of humor left in
him after the previous night’s disastrous breakup with Kathleen.
    “Let’s just say when your big party is over, Patrick, I’ll
be glad to see the back of Constitution,” Jake said.
    “Ouch.” Matt had a pained look. “I’m right there with you,
buddy. Right there with you.”
    “Uh-huh. Why do