On A Night Like This (Callaways #1)

play structure in the distance.
    "This is a pretty neighborhood," she said.
    "The park sold me," he said. "Kyle and I used to play basketball over there on the weekends." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, this is home. Ready to see the inside?"
    "Absolutely."
    They grabbed their bags and headed up the stairs. "Of course you would live on the top floor," she commented. "And in a building with no elevator."
    He grabbed the handle of her suitcase, relieving her of the burden. "It has an elevator. I just never use it. Walking is faster. And I have to keep in shape."
    He was definitely in good shape, she thought, as she got a nice view of his ass on the way up the stairs.
    Aiden gave her a funny look when they reached his door. "You're all red. The stairs weren't that bad, were they?"
    "I'm fine. It's just hotter here than it is in New York." Okay, that was a stupid answer. She cleared her throat. "Are we going in?"
    He turned the key and opened the door. "After you. It's not much."
    The one-bedroom apartment with a small kitchen off the living area might not be much, but it was Aiden's home, and she could see his personality everywhere she looked. The furniture was very male, big, overstuffed couch with a bunch of loose pillows and a recliner with a perfect view of what appeared to be a sixty-inch television screen. There were newspapers on the coffee table and a couple of novels, which surprised her a little. She'd always thought of Aiden as a man of action and not as a reader.
    Speaking of action… The walls were covered with amazing photographs, athletes engaged in extreme sports, skiers going off tops of mountains, surfers taking on huge waves, and rock climbers reaching the summit of a steep peak. Moving closer to the wall by the kitchen, she realized some of the photos were actually of Aiden and Kyle.
    There was a rafting shot with Aiden and Kyle in the front of the boat, two other men in the back, making their way through some nasty white water. There was nothing but pure joy on their faces.
    "When was this taken?" she asked.
    "Two years ago. That was on the American river."
    "Looks dangerous."
    "It's more fun that way."
    "Sure." She moved down the wall, happy to see what else Aiden did in his spare time. No boring activities for this man. She saw him reeling in a fish, climbing up a steep rock face, and jumping out of an airplane. "Was this at work?" she asked.
    "That was my first rookie jump," he said. "They gave us a souvenir."
    "I can't believe you jump out of planes," she said, reminded of how very different they were. "Are all these other guys smokejumpers?"
    "Most of 'em. We spend a lot of time together during fire season and when we're not fighting fire, we're still usually together."
    "Do you ever do anything tame—golf, bowling?" she asked.
    He grinned. "Some of the guys golf, but it's a little slow for me.
    "Is this Vicky?" she asked, pausing in front of a party picture. Kyle had a birthday hat on his head and a pregnant woman stood behind him with her hand on his shoulder.
    "Yeah, that was last year. I should take all these pictures down," he added, his tone turning somber.
    "Don't rush it," she said, putting a hand on his arm as he reached toward the photograph.
    "I can't leave them up. I can't look at Kyle at his birthday party and think about how he's never going to have another one," Aiden said, his voice rough with pain. "Damn." He pushed past her and ripped the photo off the wall, followed by another and another. He was suddenly obsessed with getting the pictures down.
    Sara stepped back, waiting and watching, wishing she could help him, but there was nothing she could say that would help. Aiden had to get through the pain in his own way.
    Eventually, there was nothing left on the wall but nails and odd patches of gleaming paint that had been hidden behind the photographs. Aiden stood in the middle of the pile, hands on his hips, his breath coming fast and ragged. Finally, he looked at her.
    "God, Sara," he breathed.
    His expression tore at her heart. "I know. It hurts," she said softly.
    She went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, pulling him as close as she could. He needed someone to hang on to, to anchor him, and she could do that.
    After a slight hesitation, he put his arms around her, hugging her so tight she could feel every tense muscle in his body.
    "What can I do?" she asked, gazing up at him. "How can I help?"
    He stared down at her, his blue eyes dark and glittering. Then he