All Fired Up Read Online Free

calorie-free. That would work, too. Whatever. I’m going to dream myself into bed now.” Yawning, she got up, wobbling as the floor shifted beneath her. She grabbed the arm of the couch, straightened herself then tightened her robe.
    He moved around the coffee table and came toward her. “Please, sit. I will explain. I am here to help.”
    She backed up. “I don’t see how a drunken fantasy is going to change my life. Unless I start telling people about you…that would do it.”
    “I am real.” He took another step.
    She edged around the couch to put distance between herself and the impossibly sexy apparition coming toward her.
    Her thigh connected with the sharp corner of the end table. “Ow!” A lamp crashed onto the sofa, and she pitched backward. Two strong arms and a warm lap cushioned her fall. She looked up into blue eyes filled with concern.
    “Are you hurt?” he asked.
    “How did you…you were just over there.” She pointed lamely in the direction of the coffee table. What was that scent? She sniffed him. “You smell like red-hots.”
    His warmth seeped through her chenille robe and she couldn’t help but think again how real he felt. Were hallucinations warm?
    He lifted her to her feet, one thick, muscled arm behind her back and one rough hand holding hers.
    Her thigh throbbed where she’d run into the edge of the table. No doubt a nasty bruise in the making. She hiked up her robe to see if she’d broken the skin. A big red welt marked her flesh. “That’s not going to be pretty.”
    A low throaty sigh filled her ears. She glanced at him. His gaze was anchored on her bare legs, his mouth slightly parted. She dropped her robe. He had to be a hallucination if the sight of her bare legs got that kind of response out of him. Real men reacted to her like she was tuna surprise, not filet mignon.
    “Let me explain. This will be easier if you understand,” he said.
    Yawning again, she nodded. Her head swam with the need for sleep. Must be the dream was about to end. “‘Kay. You’re cute. Too bad you’re not real.”
    He snatched her hand, and planted it on the thick scar across his chest. “Does my heart not beat? Am I not warm with the blood that runs through my veins? I am real, fair eyes. I am most definitely real.”
     
    The winsome lass kept her hand on his chest for only a moment before tugging it back. Her beautiful bronze eyes filled with confusion. Color spread across her cheeks. Maybe she had not summoned him on purpose after all. Well, it mattered not. He was here now.
    “You can’t be real.” She tumbled down onto the couch, settled onto the cushions, and tucked her feet beneath her.
    The sight of her long legs, pale as new silk, heated his blood. Dark red curls spilled over her shoulders and into her eyes. She brushed them back, succeeding only in loosening a few more. His hands yearned to tangle in those curls.
    By Odin’s good eye, she was a lovely creature, as curved and shapely as any woman he’d known. How long had it been since a woman’s scent had perfumed his skin?
    Dagny’s image flickered in his mind.
    Beautiful, deceitful betrayer.
    A bitter taste filled his mouth. The scar over his heart burned. No woman would ever sway him that way again.
    The lass stared at him, her sleepy bronze eyes focused on his chest. He realized his hand rested on the fatal scar. He eased his hand away, but her gaze stayed fixed.
    “Tha’ musta hurt.” Her words slurred, her lids fluttered downward.
    “Aye.” He had a feeling he was not going to explain much tonight. “What is your name, lass?”
    “Calleigh,” she mumbled. “Calleigh Siobhan McCarthy.” Her head bobbed. “You’re just a dream, aren’t you?” she whispered.
    “Aye. Go to sleep now.” Perhaps it was best she thought that until he truly knew he was supposed to be here.
    Her eyes closed, and her head tipped back against the cushions. Soft, sighing breaths slipped from her rose-colored lips.
    He looked at the