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Pin-Up Fireman
Vonnie Davis


The heat is on…Book 4 in the �Wild Heat’ series – the hottest new firefighter series of the year!Graci-ella Santana is hired to photograph and produce a calendar of the hunky firemen of Station Thirty-two. Gossip flourishes about the sexy lady behind the camera… and her hands on approach to bring out every man’s best assets! Why, the firemen are practically falling over each other to be the next one posed to her satisfaction.Boyd Calloway’s having none of it. He’s in the midst of a bitter custody battle with his ex-wife. The last thing he needs is to provide the drug-dealing ex’s unsavory lawyer with a calendar filled with suggestive photographs that might prove Boyd an unfit example to his son.When the Captain at the station insists Boyd participate in the shoot, passion explodes between him and Graci-ella to a degree neither is ready or equipped to handle. She can’t commit. He can’t trust. Yet, neither can walk away from the other.Only, Boyd soon finds out that to get the evidence he needs to convict his ex and safeguard his child, he has to ask the last person he wants to for help. And Graci-ella has no choice but to come to the rescue of her one hot hero.









Pin-up Fireman


Book Three in the Wild Heat Series

VONNIE DAVIS






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www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)


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HarperCollinsPublishers

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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2015

Copyright В© Vonnie Davis 2015

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Cover design by HarperColl‌insPublishers Ltd

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to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is

available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

entirely coincidental.

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Ebook Edition В© July 2015 ISBN: 9780007594535

Version 2015-07-08


I have a Street Team that helps with my promotion. I call them "Vonnie's Vixens." Each one is supportive, a total joy and priceless. I love them all.


Contents

Cover (#u0efe97ee-b64b-501f-942f-db547abbff8f)

Title Page (#ua97cad1a-2eeb-5b7a-bf72-bb8ec0222ffd)

Copyright (#udc856422-641b-5337-a317-1a877b378b60)

Dedication (#ua1991b90-8e8c-58fb-b08a-d5f97b6a239a)

CHAPTER ONE (#u2db73b08-ee4c-53f3-ad6d-cdd11d96d496)

CHAPTER TWO (#u339a9ad4-baa3-5f77-a4a7-f187fb929487)

CHAPTER THREE (#u9237d108-6312-5444-ada5-99875d325155)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u30e70249-7df2-5cef-a86d-df8f61bba7d1)

CHAPTER FIVE (#u640d94e5-461c-5ae6-9de1-d12972d668d1)



CHAPTER SIX (#u259f2d92-3bfb-5ec4-92b1-ab737036dc95)



CHAPTER SEVEN (#ucf97fdef-8cb7-58f8-b665-67615f312bb6)



CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)



CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)



CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)



CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)



CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)



CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)



CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)



CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)



CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)



CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)



CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)



CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)



CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)



CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)



CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)



CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)



CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)



CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Also by Vonnie Davis … (#litres_trial_promo)



Vonnie Davis (#litres_trial_promo)



About HarperImpulse (#litres_trial_promo)



About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




CHAPTER ONE (#uc2189958-7dfc-5e52-a6aa-bb04542d1dea)


“I want him.”

A pink fingernail pointed at Boyd Calloway, and he stopped mid-stride. He scowled at the tall, curvaceous brunette at the front of the meeting room, her sapphire blue eyes focused on him.

“Oh, yeah. I really want him.”

An unexpected and unwelcomed zing of sexual awareness fried a few of his brain cells, the timing of which did not make him happy.

Late for the mandatory meeting the station captain called first thing this morning, Boyd had tried to sneak in without being noticed. The strange woman certainly shot his efforts all to hell with her sexy remarks.

Dammit, his tardiness couldn’t be helped. He’d been on the phone with his aunt Jinny, who took care of his son while Boyd worked. Matt was headed for another asthma attack; the familiar signs were there.

Boyd grabbed the last empty chair and rubbed fingers across his forehead where a headache brewed. Hopefully, Aunt Jinny could get Matt a pediatrician’s appointment today or tomorrow, which would mean another day of missed school. This wasn’t the best way to start first grade.

The very last thing Boyd wanted to go through right now was some kind of fluff meeting. No matter how attractive the person holding the gathering was—and she was a stunning beauty.

Pink stilettos clicked a staccato beat on the tile floor of Fire and Marine Rescue Unit Thirty-two as the woman with the silky voice and slim pink skirt strutted to the table where she tapped a notepad with a pen, making a few notations. She swiveled and pointed at Boyd with her pen. “I’ll want him twice.”

“Hey, Tiny hit the jackpot!” Wolf slouched farther in his chair, hands clasped at his crotch, and grinned like a fool, which seemed his normal state these days. He’d just found out last week his wife Becca was pregnant. They’d evidently been trying for over two years. Dan Wolford, known as Wolf at the station, was over-the-moon happy.

“Tiny, which part of you is she gonna work on first? ’Cause she can have all of this anytime she wants.” Darryl Weir, their newest man, chimed in, moving the edges of his open hands down his torso. “Believe me, I’m the best here in the station,” he declared, making inappropriate kissing noises.

Still trying to find his place within the top-notch crew, the young fellow was too mouthy for Boyd’s liking. Darryl hadn’t been baptized with a nickname yet and since the kid had Boyd’s hackles up, he figured he’d do the honors.

“Well, now, Kissy Boy, whatever part she wants.”

The rest of the team hooted and hollered the new fireman’s nickname before Captain Steele barked a stern command to “mind their manners and shut the hell up.”

She aimed her cornflower blue eyes at Boyd. “So, your co-workers call you Tiny? Why? Because you’re so tall and muscular? What are you, six-seven?”

“Close enough. Six-eight. The muscles come from working out stress on the weight machines. That, and the demands of the job.” He thought of asking her how tall she was, but that would only stir the guys up more. Even without those killer heels, she was about six feet. Dark brunette hair to the middle of her back. All-in-all, a cute package, but then, he’d once thought that of Chantel, and look where that had gotten him.

The attractive stranger sashayed closer, the smell of expensive perfume aroused his senses. A powerful jolt of sexual need Boyd hadn’t felt in over a year traveled down his spine and singed all his ignored parts. “And what kind of stress could a good looking man like you have?” She extended her hand. “I’m Graci-Ella, by the way. I’m a photographer and I’d really, really like to use you twice.”

This time the raucous remarks from the squad were aimed at him. Bastards that they were, they knew of his monk-like existence.

“Twice for what?” Heat flamed up his neck and made a U-turn to prickle the other parts of his body he ignored except in the shower.

“The cover and a monthly picture in the calendar I’m doing on the heroic firefighters of this station. All proceeds will go to the local food bank here in Clearwater, Florida. The firm I work for does a few charitable acts per year. A fourteen month calendar that goes on the market on or before October first will help give some needy food to those who could really use it over the holidays.”

Boyd crossed his arms. “I’ll write a check for the food bank, but no way in hell are you getting me in any beefcake calendar.” Hell, that’s all his ex-wife and her expensive lawyer would need to prove he wasn’t a positive influence for Matt. His forty-eight hour shifts on and off, at the station, was one strike against him. He didn’t need anymore.

“How many of you firefighters—men and women—are seriously interested in posing for this calendar? They would make some wild Christmas gifts.” Most everyone raised his or her hand as Graci-Ella took a count and wrote the number on her notepad.

Ivy Jo leaned forward in her chair. “How revealing are you getting in these pictures?”

“No nudity from the waist down. For the women firefighters, tank tops or sports bras. Their choice.”

Ivy Jo and Emily glanced at each other, nodded their approval and raised their hands.

Graci-Ella wrote something on the paper and looked at her watch. “Cripes. I have a meeting in half an hour so I need to head off. Captain, may I meet with your team a few more times after they’ve had a chance to think about it? And talk to their significant others, of course. I’ll bring by some calendars tonight I’ve done for various groups as fund raisers. Give them a chance to look over my work.”

“Sure, as long as we’re here and not out on some kind of emergency. Call first to save yourself a trip. Tiny, give her your cell number.” The corners of the chief’s mouth quirked—matchmaking bastard.

She sat next to Boyd and swiveled in her chair so her knees touched his thigh. Between her perfume and those long legs so close he could touch them, he was six heat beats away from doing something stupid. Just how would it feel to trail a finger up her firm thigh? The desire was so strong, he could sense beads of sweet popping out on his forehead.

Her blue eyes focused on his as she held her cell. “Your number, please? I really would like to talk to you some more about being in the calendar. Maybe tonight we can have a few moments of privacy?”

“Why me? Look around, there are plenty of muscular men in this unit. A little powder and lip gloss and whoever you pick will grab anyone’s attention.”

She smiled and looked away as if she didn’t want him to see it. So, her reply surprised him. “You have a sense of humor, kind of sharp-witted. I like that.” She rested her soft hand on his. “Please, give me a chance.”

Oh, he’d like to give her more than a chance, but this custody business had put a hold on his sex life. Boyd couldn’t allow any rumors to detract from the judge’s opinion of his ability to take better care of Matt than Chantel.

Two hours, four cups of coffee later and Graci-Ella was wired. She’d worked for Baker, Brannock, and Hughes law firm for two years, putting in extra hours just to keep her head above the heavy load. Too bad no one seemed to notice. Of course, how could anyone even see her behind the stacks of files on her desk? The new cases seemed to multiply at a faster rate than those she had ready for their court dates.

Her square office, with a small window, was claustrophobic. What she needed to do this weekend was rearrange the mismatched furniture, find a better way to store her files and add some plants. She glanced at the metal strips holding up the ceiling tile. If she got the right kind of hooks, she could add hanging plants without using any of her small floor space. How could her clients have any faith in her when they walked into this pitiful looking postage stamp?

Then there were her parents, who were chomping at the bit to fly south from Maryland to see her. They’d been aghast at her office on their first visit, but she’d told a small fib that she’d been working out of this tiny space until an office opened up. Her mother nearly turned herself inside out with outrage—her daughter deserved better. Yeah, well, the newest lawyer got the leftovers.

She glanced around her space. It was wall to wall, mismatched odds and ends. If her parents came down again, they’d insist on coming by to see her office. How could she face them with any pride when they saw she was still in the same spot, with zero career progression? Her dad would storm to one of the bosses’ office and demand to know why. For a classic car mechanic, her dad had a lot of nerve.

Co-worker Elizabeth Stone popped her head in Graci-Ella’s open door. “Hey, are you playing in the basketball game at the Y tomorrow? Lots of cute guys usually show. Of course you’ll have to let them make a basket now and then, so you don’t wound their male egos.”

“Ugh! I get so tired of the fragile male ego.” Graci-Ella forked her fingers through her long hair and chuckled. “No, I have a breakfast meeting with a client and then I’m thinking of coming in here to better organize this miniscule office the firm so kindly gave me. I feel like I’m working out of an old closet. Gives me the willies sometimes.”

Elizabeth looked around. “Come to think of it, paper, ink cartridges and toner used to be stored in here.” Both women laughed. “I need a favor. A huge favor.” Elizabeth extended three files.

“Beware of lawyers bearing files. What are they?” Why was she even asking? Obviously it was more work for her. Her gaze shifted to her two “in” piles and sighed.

“Cases I’m representing that I can’t handle right now. Baker assigned me the Middleton case this morning and it’s the most important one I’ve ever had. I need to do a top notch job in negotiating a huge payout. It could mean a big jump forward in my career.”

Ignoring the pang of jealousy, Graci-Ella congratulated her friend on the coup. “Look, hon, anytime one of the senior partners hands you something this important, it’s a colossal compliment. Take it and run with it. So, you want me to take over some of your cases?” Maybe she’d get some recognition for this extra effort.

Elizabeth leaned against the doorjamb. “Yes, Patrick’s taking over four. I gave three to Joe, but I figured you were the only one strong enough to handle these.” She shook the thick folders at her.

“Beware of sneaky lawyers bearing cases and compliments.” Graci-Ella laughed and extended her hand. Elizabeth had been the first lawyer to make her feel welcome at the firm. How could Graci-Ella forget her co-worker’s kindness by refusing to help her?

“Warning,” Elizabeth said before passing her the files. The one client is a whiny bitch. Name’s Chantel Calloway—a custody hearing. Woman needs a reality check and a bottle of Ritalin. I declare, she’ll be bitching one minute about how her ex ignored her and turned cold. Then suddenly ask you if you like the color of her fingernail polish. Don’t let her air-headed façade fool you, though. She’ll be bossing you around in no time. The woman’s obviously used to getting her way.

Graci-Ella leafed through them. “The custody case shouldn’t be so bad.” She smiled at Elizabeth. “Don’t worry. I don’t take shit from anyone. When’s the court date?” She found the page she was looking for. “November third. Looks like you’ve gotten most of the work done. Background check on the ex-husband completed?”

“Yeah, he seems clean to me. Still, I can understand a mother wanting custody of her kid. The second case is what should be a simple land dispute. We’ve got two senior citizens who want to argue over a foot of property, fifty feet long. Martha O’Shaye, the party we represent, and Nancy Beech, can’t be in the same room without World War Three breaking out. Martha claims the foot of land is hers and she wants to widen her driveway by twelve inches. Nancy wants to plant flower beds in that strip. I call it the case of the divas.” Linda shook her head. “One old woman claims the other’s dog craps on her yard in revenge, as if the damn dog would know the difference.”

Graci-Ella glared at the lawyer whose short, blonde hair was frizzier than usual. The humidity must be high today. “Oh, you’re going to owe me big time for this one. A whinny bitch and elderly divas?”

“Hold on. It gets better. The third is a DUI and disorderly, second offense.”

“Am I supposed to thank you for these cases?” Graci-Ella fought back a grin and lost. “Don’t expect me to buy you any coffee today…or tomorrow.” She glanced at the third file. What’s the deal with this one?”

Elizabeth folded her arms. “Paul Steinway is a horny bastard who chases any woman who breathes. The man even had the gall to proposition me. I fried his ears, but good. He has an alcohol problem and can’t say a sentence without two cuss words in it. Has temper issues—big time. Drove his truck into a convenience store when he found out they no longer handled his favorite brand of snuff.” She tipped her head toward the folder. “Thus the offense. A real class act. And he expects us to perform miracles so he doesn’t lose his job.” She glanced at her cell. “Look, gotta go. If you need me, I’ll be in the legal library. Thanks a lot.” She whizzed out of the doorway and, like last month’s paycheck, was gone.

Graci-Ella attached a court date label onto the edge of each file and placed them in chronological order to the stacks of files she needed to work on. She swiveled her chair to her computer and continued typing on the brief for a car theft ring she represented. Why did she always get the guilty jerks? She’d much rather represent some good people and see justice shine on their side.

To please her parents, Graci-Ella entered the legal profession, just as Eli had planned, when she’d sooner have gone into photography. All the years of law school, internship and cramming for the bar exams just to satisfy her folks, while they enjoyed their dreams of her future—especially after they’d lost Eli. Thank God her parents didn’t know she often had to represent the armpit of society.

Anytime she called home, the first words out of her dad’s mouth were, “Did you make junior partner yet?” From his jovial tone, she figured he was kidding—at least she hoped. He didn’t seem to understand she had several years of hard work ahead of her before she made that feat, no matter how many times she explained it to him. “Had you stayed here in Maryland, you’d have a junior partnership already.”

Of course when she was courted by the senior partners to join the firm, no one told her she’d get the worst cases until she proved herself. And just how was she to do that from a former closet? Her mother’s words came back to disturb her. “Bloom wherever you’re planted. Just make sure the soil is rich.” Graci-Ella growled deep in her throat. Achieve, triumph, surpass, I’ve had those words shoved down my throat since Eli was broadsided by another car. I am his substitute, which I understand because I miss him as much as my parents do.

Eli was the oldest and the brightest. He was also her hero. Without a word of complaint, he put up with her following him around, even to the community basketball courts. He taught her all he knew. So did his buddies. She held the old photo of the two of them under the basket over their garage door. Eli held the basketball in one hand and his other arm around her shoulders. His smile illuminated the picture while she stared up at him—her best bud.

Too bad she couldn’t have played basketball forever. The wooden court was where she felt at home throughout her high school and college years—running, dribbling, shoving, shooting. That was her first love. She glanced around her storage room turned legal office. This was her current cramped reality.

She groaned as she wrote her brief; wondered how her acquittal rate would be if she delivered her opening and closing arguments while dribbling a basketball. Her weird sense of humor fanaticized a hoop over the judge’s head and Graci-Ella shooting a three-pointer whenever the judge disagreed with something she said. Her laughter bubbled forth as she imagined beaning the opposing counsel on his ass whenever he made her client look bad.

By far, the basketball court outshone the legal court. At least for her, which was a sad admission when she’d worked so hard to pass the bar and get in with a firm. Maybe she needed to open her own office. Or perhaps she needed to make photography more of a vocation than a hobby. Especially if she could meet men like Tiny. Sweet chocolate cheesecake, but he was delicious looking. She’d like to bite his bicep and then kiss him all over just to make up for it.

Even so, the keep-your-distance vibe he emanated like a lighthouse beacon practically shouted he wasn’t interested in her, or any female. Just her luck. She’d like to go a little one on one with him and not just on the basketball court, either. Something about him stirred her hormones, which was quite peculiar for her—the focused, determined lawyer with goals a mile long.




CHAPTER TWO (#uc2189958-7dfc-5e52-a6aa-bb04542d1dea)


After lunch, Graci-Ella hurried to the law library for a book on quasi-torts and opened the glass door to find the lawyer at the top of the firm’s food chain. After a polite exchange of greetings, she took a deep breath and asked if she could spend some money to make her ex-storage room, now office more workable. To her relief, he gave her permission and also told her to have the building manager show her the office furniture the firm no longer used. Maybe she could find some things there, especially since some of the junior partners had just ordered new office cabinets and desks.

Mental fist pump. Score!

So, when she normally took her afternoon break, she knocked on the building manager’s door. With her room’s layout sketched on paper, she’d asked him if he had anything that matched and was usable. “Oh, and comfortable would be nice too.”

He scratched his head for a minute. “Didn’t this used to be the old supply room before they made a bigger one?”

“You got it, Jo-Jo. In there sits a huge metal desk—brown. Two metal file cabinets—gray. One metal folding client chair—red. A black office chair that leans and has upended with me in it—five times.”

“How long you been here? A couple years?” He shook his tanned bald head, trimmed with a fringe of white hair. “Ain’t that a damn shame. Bet you’re still getting the shit cases no one else wants. And I lay you dollars to donuts, you’re putting in more hours than anyone else, trying to prove yourself.” He ambled away from her and motioned over his shoulder. “Follow me. Ol’ Jo-Jo gonna treat you right.” He glanced at the paper again. “These measurements correct?”

“Yes, sir.” She glanced around and saw two dark-green leather, club chairs that matched. She rubbed her hands over the soft leather. “Oh, wish I had room for these. I love the color.”

Jo-Jo shoved a matching wheeled office chair her way. “Try that on for size. I can adjust the height for you, lumbar support too.” He pulled out a unit with two horizontal filing drawers and book shelves on top of those. A corner unit was next, along with a desk. He measured the corner unit and desk together and looked at his paper. He found two other matching units. One had filing drawers, but was deeper. A skinnier one had shelves with lockable sliding doors. “Which one do you want?” He pointed to the thinner one. This will give you eight more inches of room.”

“I’ll take it. One question. The aluminum strips that hold the ceiling tiles, are they strong enough to hang a plant?”

“If the pot’s plastic and you don’t drench the plant with water, yes. No more than two, though.”

She opened her arms. “So, I can have all this? And it’ll still leave me room to move around in my tiny office?” After Jo-Jo showed her how to place everything on her drawing, she hugged him and squealed with joy. She didn’t think she’d stopped smiling the rest of the afternoon.

Once her day at the office was over, she grabbed a salad at her favorite take-out spot and went home to eat and unwind. High heels in hand, she went into her bedroom to change into something cool and comfortable. She called Tiny to make sure the firefighters were there before she drove to the station.

“Boyd here.”

“So, I finally learn your real name.” She smiled as she pulled a tank top from her drawer.

“All you needed to do was ask me. I have no secrets.” His deep voice raised goosebumps on her skin.

“Are we in a grumpy mood this evening?”

“No.” He sighed. “Maybe. Was my night to cook and I burned the lasagna. We had a marine rescue earlier this afternoon, so I thought if turned the oven up to five hundred, supper would get done quicker.”

She laughed. “Oh no. Who puts the oven up that high?”

“A man whose hungry, that’s who. All it did was set off the smoke alarms and cause me to get my ass chewed out. I’m trying to figure how to get the scorched cheese and meat out of the pans. Hey, you don’t do dishes do you?” A tinge of his humor was in his voice. “Have you ever eaten lasagna with a fork in one hand and a chainsaw in another?”

Once she stopped laughing, she made a suggestion. “Run a knife along the edge to get out what you can and then soak them in hot, soapy water for a while. I’m just calling to make sure the team will be there if I come by.”

“As of now, we’re just cleaning equipment. Routine stuff. Come on over.”

When she pulled into the parking lot of Fire and Marine Rescue Station Thirty-two, Wolf and a curvy redhead were sitting at a picnic table under a palm tree. A German shepherd sat on Wolf’s lap as if he hadn’t seen his master for weeks. Wolf waved her over as she pulled out a canvas bag of calendars and a portfolio of pictures.

“Graci-Ella, come meet my wife, Becca. Don’t you think she glows with her pregnancy?” The man’s smile nearly split his face in two. He reached for his wife’s hand and kissed her knuckles.

Becca pursed her lips and blushed. “I’m surprised you don’t make me wear a sandwich sign that reads, �This woman is pregnant!’ She stood and shook Graci-Ella’s hand. “Never mind him. He’s just happy we finally got it right. So, you’re the photographer everyone’s teasing Tiny about?”

Something in the woman’s kind demeanor made Graci-Ella smile. “Yes, I’m the photographer, but why are folks ragging Tiny about me?”

Becca leaned in. “Because he hasn’t dated since he was served with custody papers for his little boy. He’s trying so hard to be Mr. Perfect. You evidently rattled his celibacy cage when you showed up this morning.”

Was that why he was so adamant about not being in the calendar? Did he think avoiding women would look favorable to the court? Was he divorced or still married? That would be the deciding factor, that and how often he left his son with a sitter overnight.

The dog looked at Wolf as if he were insulted and whined. He licked Wolf’s chin, no doubt to remind him he was there.

Wolf rubbed the canine’s head. “Sorry, buddy. Graci-Ella, this is Einstein. If you call him over, he’ll offer you his paw to shake. He’s the best dog in the world.”

Einstein barked and jumped down. Graci-Ella called him over and he pranced around the end of the picnic table, his tongue lolling crooked from his mouth. He sat in front of her and held out his paw. She shook it gently. “My, aren’t you handsome? Do you have a leash along? I’ll walk you around the building.”

Einstein romped to Becca and gently took a leash from her hand before giving it to Graci-Ella. “Does he enjoy running?” She petted Einstein as she clipped the leash onto his collar.

“He loves a good run. Wolf won’t let me take him on runs anymore, just slow jogs.”

Graci-Ella stood and rubbed the dog’s neck. “Einstein, sounds like we could both use some fast exercise. Two times around the building.”

Wolf laughed. “If you sense twenty pair of male eyes on you, it’s not a phantom feeling.”

Right, as if I haven’t had men watch me run before. She and Einstein took off.




CHAPTER THREE (#uc2189958-7dfc-5e52-a6aa-bb04542d1dea)


Feet pounded past the opened kitchen windows while Boyd and Quinn were rinsing dishes and loading dishwashers. Boyd’s neck snapped a fast second glance, and he nearly got whiplash. He kept holding a plate under the water spray as he leaned toward the screen to watch Graci-Ella—her come-to-Jesus legs in navy shorts, full breasts in an apricot tank top and a long ponytail that swished back and forth with each stride. His heart pounded with every pace she made.

Quinn jerked the plate from Boyd’s hand. “Man, I don’t know who’s breathing faster right now. Her running or you watching.”

“Bite me.” Boyd leaned farther toward the window so he could keep his eyes on her after she passed by with Einstein. Quinn shifted behind him and shouldered Boyd’s ass until his knees were on the counter. “What the fuckin’ hell, Quinn?” A giggling shove and Boyd’s knees slipped into the double sink—one side full of hot soapy water soaking lasagna pans and the other with the faucet running cold water.

Quinn, the bastard, was laughing and grabbing for the sprayer.

“Oh no! Oh, hell no!” Boyd struggled for the sprayer, too, in an effort to avoid the shower he was about to get. In the scuffle, he slipped forward and banged his chin on the window sill, which gave Quinn enough time to gain control of the sprayer and douse him good with cold water.

Boyd elbowed his co-worker, who lost his balance, slipped on the wet floor and ripped the sprayer’s hose from the faucet assembly. Water flew. Guys came running to see what all the commotion was about. Boyd didn’t doubt for a minute he made a fine sight with his ass in the air and his knees in the sink. He pushed off the window sill and flipped backwards, his sneakers skidding in two different directions until his back hit the floor.

Quinn, bless his demented ass, laughed so loud it evidently drew the captain out of his office.

“What in the God damn hell is going on? Someone turn off the water and fix the hose. One of you little boys better mop up the floor.” Captain Steele was known for having spic and span station and that included the kitchen.

Quinn was known for his big mouth. “Hell, captain, I was only helping Tiny watch the photographer run by the building with Einstein.”

Feet stampeded to the windows on the other side of the building. Whistles and crude remarks exploded from the gang at the other windows. Damn the rest of the guys for watching her run. They had no right to drool over her.

Boyd was so pissed, he spun to head for the mop and bucket, shooting Quinn a glare as he stormed to where the cleaning supplies were stored. Never one to back down, Quinn grabbed Boyd’s bicep and leaned in. “If you want her, you better make it known.”

“Oh, like you did with Cassie? You damn near drove her away. Besides, I’ve got that custody hearing…”

Quinn’s voice softened. “Don’t pound the hell out of me for this, but I think you’ve got a worthless lawyer. He’s got you scared to do anything but work and take care of Matt. What do you do the weekends the kid’s with his mother? Do you party, date, bay at the moon? No.”

“I get together with you guys when you have picnics or basketball games.”

“You need to live, brother. An occasional date would not make you a bad parent. The hell with what that lawyer told you. Cassie’s afraid you’ve turned off your sex drive. She wants to line you up with some of her friends. You know how she gets once she snags onto an idea.”

Boyd, who was still dealing with half a woody, chuffed a laugh. “Tell her my sex drive is working fine. I’m just keeping it in neutral until after the hearing.” He shook his index finger at Quinn. “Tell that sweet wife of yours I would not appreciate her matchmaking help.” He made a snap decision to get out of his wet clothes and headed for the sleeping quarters to change before he mopped the kitchen floor.

He’d just swabbed the area in front of the sink when the horny herd charged toward the open back door where Graci-Ella was evidently passing. He spun to snatch another look at her after she rounded the building, but thought better of it. Surely she deserved more than to be ogled like some sex object.

When he stepped outside to empty his bucket, Einstein barked a greeting as he cleared the end of the fire station. Boyd stepped inside to grab a bowl to fill with water for the dog and snatched a bottle of water out of the refrigerator for Graci-Ella. He carried both outside for the runners. He set Einstein’s bowl on the grass next to the sidewalk. Both the dog and the beauty stopped running.

“Oh, a life-saver.” Graci-Ella accepted the bottle and unscrewed the top. “Thanks for being so considerate.” She gulped a few swigs, watching Einstein put his muzzle into the bowl, take several laps and then lick Boyd’s calf in gratitude. The corners of her mouth quirked. “Just don’t expect me to do that.”

“What? Lick my calf?” Hell, his voice cracked like an adolescent. He had to get a grip where she was concerned.

She nodded, guzzling more water.

His cock nodded, too. Thank God he’d changed into a pair of baggy cargo shorts. His instant erection wasn’t so obvious, but since he couldn’t stop thinking of her tongue on any part of his body, the damn thing lengthened and thickened some more. He stooped and petted Einstein in an effort to hide it until his mind got off her tongue. Of course, the damn dog licked Boyd’s crotch, then lifted his hind leg and licked his doggie privates.

“Do you have some free time to talk to me? We could sit on the bench in front of the palms and those pretty orchids.” She motioned with her bottle to the bench she meant.

“Sure. Let me go in and grab a soda. Do you want one or maybe some more water?”

She flashed him a heart-melting smile. “No, I’m great. I need to get Einstein back to his owners and then I’ll be over.”

Boyd was sipping his Coke when Graci-Ella carried a canvas bag over to the bench. “How long have Wolf and Becca been married? They seem so much in love.”

“A shade over three years. He bought a townhouse next to hers and couldn’t keep his eyes off her as she took her daily jog with the dog. He put out a lot of effort to get her to date him and, thank goodness for the guys at the station, she finally gave in. There’s nothing worse than a man who has his heart set on a woman and can’t make any progress with her.”

Her blue eyes fixated on his. “Women are no different when they want to know a man better. In fact, sometimes we can be kinda sneaky about getting his attention.” She shoulder bumped his and he choked on his Coke, rasping to breathe.

She straddled his lap and leaned over to pound his back. He got an up close and personal glimpse down her tank top. Now he knew where she stored a pencil, a thin pencil because there was very little room between her firm breasts. Struggling with the urge to cross the line and touch them with his fingers or tongue or face, he squeezed the bottle of Coke in a fit of stress. Soda shot upwards. Graci-Ella laughed as she wiped it off her face and he soon found himself joining in. Hell, it was either laugh or slither away in humiliation.

A narrow finger ran over his chin. “You’ve got a scrape here. Want me to kiss it and make it better?”

His mouth had gone dry, too dry to talk; so he just nodded. Her lips gently covered where he’d bumped his chin on the windowsill. His hands covered her back and he inhaled whatever get-your-sex-here perfume she wore.

She moved off his lap to sit on the bench again, and his heart began beating once more. “I think I sat on your spilled soda. My ass is wet.”

God help me. I can’t think of her ass—dry or wet.

“What did you want to talk about, Graci-Ella?” He bent and set his crunched can on the ground.

“I’d like for you to be honest about why you won’t even consider posing for the calendar I’m doing. You’re the best looking guy on the squad. You should be plastered across the front of the cover.”

Years had gone by since he’d been complimented with such enthusiasm. He wasn’t so sure he believed her or felt comfortable with her praise. “My reasons are legal and pertain to the person I love most in this world—my son.”

“How so?” Graci-Ella took off her sneakers and slid her naked soles back and forth in the grass. “These were not the best sneakers to run in.”

“Says the woman who wears stilettoes to work.” He patted his thighs. “Put your feet up here and I’ll rub them while we talk.” She pulled her canvas bag onto the bench and lay her head on it as she stretched out on the seat of the bench. He tried not to focus on her hot pink toenail polish as he explained his legal circumstances as well as Matt’s health.

Every so often, she’d ask a question or moan if his thumbs rotated over a tender spot. “Yes, but since you’ll be wearing jeans, no one—not even a judge—would label it as obscene. Especially for something to help the local foodbank.”

“I can’t take that chance, Graci-Ella. Matt depends on me to keep him safe. Everyone wants to give me legal advice today. First the captain, then Quinn and now you. My lawyer told me to lead an exemplary life, and I’ve tried my damndest.”

“Is your divorce final?”

“Yes. Thank God. She’s someone else’s problem now. She lives with a guy who gives off bad vibes. I think he may be dealing. I don’t want Matt around that danger.”

“Then you’re free to date.” She shifted the bag she rested her head on. “I wouldn’t suggest having a parade of different women in and out of your house, but a date now and then does not make you less of a parent. Not in the eyes of the law.”

“Oh yeah? How would you know?”

“Because I’m a lawyer.”

His hands stilled. I will be damned. “Would you mind repeating that?”

She straightened and slipped her feet off his thighs. “I said I’m a lawyer. Don’t you narrow your eyes at me like that. I wouldn’t be crazy about dating a man who works a dangerous profession, but I’d alter my way of thinking to date you.” A blush slapped both her cheeks, and she glanced away, exhaling through pursed lips. “Wow, that was bold. I shouldn’t have said that. I apologize.”

He wrapped her ponytail around his wrist, brought her face to his and locked his eyes on hers. “Are you being honest here? I’ll be damned if I’ll be played again.”

“I’d enjoy getting to know you better. There are some things I like about you, especially your dedication to your son.”

“I’d enjoy spending more time with you, too, and I never expected to say that again.” He lowered his face to hers and inhaled her intoxicating essence, becoming dizzy with each breath.

The fire alarm went off and the dispatcher’s voice traveled over the outside speakers giving the location and type of fire.

Boyd rubbed his cheek against Graci-Ella’s. “Duty calls. Gotta run, dammit.” His lips barely dragged across hers before he took off on a run, cursing whoever or whatever started that blaze.




CHAPTER FOUR (#uc2189958-7dfc-5e52-a6aa-bb04542d1dea)


Saturday, after a breakfast meeting with a client, Graci-Ella hurried into the big-chain hardware store, a list of items the building manager had recommended for her little office redecoration jotted on a sticky note.

In fact, she nearly danced through the large chain hardware store as she picked out a rug for under her client chairs, a lamp for her desk and paint. She chose a cheery shade of yellow for the wall with the window and a paler tint of yellow for the other three walls. Jo-Jo said he’d do the painting if she bought the paint, and also install a ceiling fan if she purchased a new one.

And, of course, the palm leaf shaped fan she fell in love with was stacked on the top shelf of boxed fans. She tried reaching. Tried jumping to slide a corner out far enough she could grab it on her next jump, but that didn’t work either. The darn box was just too heavy, even though the fan was small.

“Need some help?” A pair of hands encircled her waist and she spun—in shock and ready to knee some guy in the balls—only to glare into Boyd’s grey eyes. “Need me to lift you a few inches?” Wrinkles creased the corners of his eyes as a slow, sexy grin spread. My God, what a smile could do to his severe expression.

He had one of those faces of angles and planes that made a man look hard-edged, especially with that perpetual whiskered scruff he had going on. Her fingers itched to sift through his wavy, dark hair that barely rubbed the neckline of his t-shirt. And he smelled of woodsy soap.

Beat, heart, beat!

“I’m betting you could reach it for me.” Shut up, are you stupid? her hormones hissed. Let him keep his hands on you and lift you. Don’t you want to feel his strength? Good Lord, her female bits hadn’t been this bossy in ages.

“True.” His thumbs rubbed slow circles at her waist, sending “come to me” signals to her hormones in Morse code. “But I think Confucius said, �a job worth doing is worth doing in twos.’”

She laughed. “He did not. You just made that up.”

“Turn around and I’ll lift you. Think you can handle the weight of the box once you get it in your hands?”

“Oh, I can handle the weight. I could even handle you, once I got you in my hands.” That’s telling him, her female bits squealed. Look at his shocked expression.

He leaned and pressed his lips to her ear and repeated his command in a sensual whisper. “Think you can handle the weight once you get it in your hands?”

Oh, sweet climax. It was a good thing he was there to lift her because her legs had just turned to mush. Plus, she was going to have to go through check-out wearing wet panties. Better to go through the self-serve aisle—and damn quickly. She needed her vibrator.

By the time her feet hit the floor again, her back had rubbed against every delectable hard inch of his pecs and abs and, if she wasn’t mistaken, one rock-solid erection. Maybe she needed two or three fans for her office.

He took the box from her arms and set it in her cart. “Gee, you’re getting a lot of stuff here. Doing some redecorating at home?”

“No. In my tiny office at the law firm where I work.”

A groan tumbled from his throat. “Please I’m trying to forget you’re a lawyer. I’m pretending you’re one sexy photographer and nothing more.”

“But I am an attorney.” She planted a fist on her hip and hiked her chin at his scowl. “It’s an honorable profession.” Why did she feel the need to defend herself? “We’re not all bad. Just at certain times.” Now why the hell did I say that?

“Yes, I suppose there are some good lawyers. I know there are a few who smell like sin.” He leaned in and inhaled her fragrance and she trembled in response. The corners of his lips twitched and one of his dark eyebrows rose. “What do you need next?”

“Wh…what?” The man had just boosted her as if she weighed no more than a basketball and then slid her over his erection—one that resembled a fire hose full to bursting…set her hormones in a line dance to do the bump and grind to, “Can’t Get Enough of Your Love Baby.”

He backed her against the shelves, his fingertips lightly skimming the skin of her arms. “What else do you need, Ms. Good and Bad Attorney? Can I help you with it?”

For the life of her, she couldn’t recall why she’d come in this hardware store. A new pair of high heels? Shampoo? Ice Cream? Her mind was all befuddled. All she could see were intense steel-gray eyes, darkened and hooded with desire. His head tilted as if he were studying her. Her mental focus floated away on an internal heated breeze.

I need to date more.

Those man-hungry hormones of hers were pushing her closer to him and making her lips pucker in the most embarrassing way. Could anything be more humiliating? Like he would ever kiss her. And could she survive if he did? For this guy oozed an excess of testosterone. She cleared her throat. “Plant hooks for those aluminum strips that hold up ceiling tiles.”

He placed one hand on the small of her back and pushed her cart with his other. “Hey, that’s what I’m here for. We can find them together. Suddenly, the captain’s on a plant kick, so he sent me for hooks and some hanging plants. He’ll need to keep Emily away from them though. The woman has a black thumb.”

“You seem in a happier mood today.”

“Talking to you yesterday helped. Plus, I called my lawyer this morning and pressed him for some answers. Old Henry wasn’t too pleased. He prefers safety, but I got him to admit I could date—occasionally.”

“Henry? Not George Henry, mister conservative from the fifties.” Geesh, no wonder he had Boyd afraid to lead a normal life.

Boyd chuckled. “Yeah, he is in a bit of a time warp. He’s good, though, right?”

“Yes. Very thorough.” They turned into another aisle, his hand still on the small of her back.

“You know, I recognized your high heel clattering and knew you were in the store somewhere. You have a distinctive walk, as if you’re almost running. Few women can manage that in heels as high as you wear.”

“You must have good ears.” Being near him had her in a happy Zen place.

He laughed. “I’m a dad. I can hear a six-year old doing something he shouldn’t be doing at twenty paces. I call it daddy hearing. Gotta admit, I dig your blue toenail polish to match your dark blue stilettoes.”

“Most men don’t notice things like that.”

“I’m a fireman. I’m taught to be super observant.”

They talked while they shopped and picked out plants. She was surprised to learn he was a gentle giant. Quick to help her choose things. He also seemed to be leaning close to her neck as if he were smelling her perfume. Normally, she’d confront a guy about invading her personal space, but he invaded in such a sweet way.

“I need to pick up a case of chrome cleaner for the station. If you’ll walk along with me, I can help you load the fan and paint and stuff into your car, after we check out. Besides, my male plants are hanging from your cart watching your female plants.”

She rested her hands on her hips. “Oh? And how do you know yours are males?”

He slapped his chest with his palm and feigned astonishment. “Do you think a macho man like me would…” he leaned in to whisper in her ear, “choose feminine plants?”

The way he’d uttered the word plants as if it were something utterly obscene made her laugh out loud. “Okay, I’ll walk along with you. Only because I think you need a keeper.” Well, there was also the thought of his leaning into the back of her RAV-4, loading her things.

Normally, she wasn’t one to play the weak woman role, but he wore worn jeans that hugged every curve and showcased every bunch and stretch of his thigh muscles as he moved. Was she a perverted woman for wanting to see him bend over in those jeans? It was a simple question and, frankly, Charlotte, she didn’t give a damn.

She walked him to her car and unlocked the hatch. He grabbed two cans of paint and bent over to place them inside.

Mental fist pump. Score!

Next, he grabbed the boxed fan and bent over to put it in.

Sweet Lawd, I’m going to hyperventilate in a second. What an ass he’s got!

He picked up a brass pot and a bag of soil she was going to use to repot a palm for one corner of her office.

Would he notice if I bit his ass? Just once?

With gentle movements, he set her plants inside.

God, if my panties get any wetter, I’ll have to swim to my door. Just look at how his jeans fit. Like lover’s hands.

Boyd turned to her. “Are you feeling okay? You’re flushed and breathing rapid.” He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. “Are you a diabetic? Do you need to eat?”

Now, there was a loaded question if ever she’d heard one.

She waved an open hand. “Oh, I’m fine. Really. You can put the rolled carpet on my ass…er…seat.” She laughed weakly. I am such an idiot!

He stood there and stared at her as if he’d heard the last marble roll out of her head. “Graci-Ella, were you watching me a little too closely as I was bending over to load your car?”

Humiliation hopped in. “Of…of course not!”

He leaned next to her ear. “I hoped you hadn’t noticed I’m going commando.”

A couple seagulls cawed overhead. Graci-Ella gasped and backhanded his abs. “That was TMI, buster.”

“Now don’t get angry with me. If I offended you, I apologize. Other than the women at the station, I haven’t talked to many since my divorce. Obviously, I’m rusty as hell.” He glanced away for a few seconds. “For all I know, you’re already involved with someone. Although I’d like to think you’d tell me not to touch you, if you were.”

“I’m not seeing anyone. And, yes, I’d have told you to back off if I was.”

“I’ve got my beeper on in case there’s an emergency somewhere. Would you like to go to Ryder’s Health Bar for a fruit smoothie?”

“I’ve heard of that place, but I’ve never been there. Sounds great.”

“Ryder dates Ivy Jo. He’ll enjoy meeting you since you’ll be taking pictures of his Sugar Doll, as he calls her. I guess we should both drive our cars in case I have to leave in a hurry.”

“Okay. I’ll follow you then.”

He leaned and rubbed his cheek against hers the way he’d done last night. For some reason, she found it the most sensual action. Her hands slipped up his t-shirt over hardened muscles. “Sweetness, you need to think long and hard about dating a man with a child. Especially with a little boy, who has a physical condition that can ruin date plans at the last minute. There will also be times when we’ll have little privacy. Matt loves to be included. I can’t say he’s spoiled, but he is excitable. There’s no use in our starting a relationship if that kind of life doesn’t appeal to you. Take your time and think it through. My work hours are a hindrance, as well. I work forty-eight hour shifts and then have forty-eight off.”

He retreated and pushed the cart with his case of chrome cleaner and male plants to his gray Mustang.

She got in her car and closed the door, watching him in her rearview mirror as her female parts cooled down. There was something appealing about the man—his honesty, his sexuality and his devotion to his son.

Could she become involved with a man and his child? The kind of relationship she had with the man was more important. How he treated her. She’d always gotten along well with children and was the most popular babysitter in her hometown neighborhood when she was a teenager.

She followed him a few blocks to street with touristy shops. Boyd helped her out of her car, took her hand and opened the door to the cool interior of Ryder’s. Jamaican music whispered from the speakers. Ryder’s bald head rose from the plate of fruit he was fixing for a customer. A wide smile greeted them both. “Tiny, my man! Who’s the doll you’ve got your fingers locked with?” He jerked his chin to two empty stools in front of him. “Sit and introduce me.”

“Ryder, this is Graci-Ella, the photographer who’s doing the calendar for the fire department.”

Ryder wiped his hands on a paper towel and passed the fruit tray to a waitress. Then he crossed his muscled arms and leaned back against the counter where he stored the glasses and flavorings. “Oh, I know one little Sugar Doll who’s going to get her pretty ass smacked. She told me the photographer was an ex-Ranger and kind of cute.” He snatched a bar rag and wiped circles in front of them both. “She had me worked up into quite a jealous lather, me being an ex-SEAL and her main squeeze.” He grinned. “Oh, she will so pay.” He winked at Graci-Ella. “God, I do love my Ivy Jo. How come you women have to get us all worked up? Hell, it took three times to get me to calm down enough to agree to it. Had she told me someone like you was the person taking the pictures, I’d have agreed right away.”

“Maybe that’s why she fibbed a little. Look at what she got out of it.” Graci-Ella winked back. Boyd’s knee leaned against her thigh and her sex started pulsing.

Ryder laughed. “Yeah, you got me there. So, what are you two having?”

She knew a man’s blood could drop from his brain to his gonads, but she’d never experienced it herself, didn’t know it could happen to a women. So, she stared at the menu, trying to calm herself. Boyd ordered and she finally chose, too.

While Ryder made their icy drinks from fresh fruit, she asked Boyd questions about Matt. Boyd’s face brightened; the man dearly loved his son. “Sometimes he acts like an old man. It’s the strangest thing, the wisdom this kid’s got.” He waved an open hand. “And I’m not just saying it because I’m his dad and I’m prejudiced or anything.” His gaze turned to her and he gave her a sheepish grin.

“My grandma used to say a child who behaved or thought like that had an old soul and was destined for good things.” Graci-Ella suddenly missed the grandma who was always in her corner while her parents focused on Eli’s many activities.

Sadness swept across Boyd’s face like a hand smoothing sand. “If I can keep him alive between the asthma and pneumonia. Which is why I have to win the custody battle. His health issues really bother me.”

“Is Matt’s doctor going to be a witness at your hearing?” She sipped her lemon-lime drink.

“Yes. His pediatrician has agreed. Matt is in a pattern. Two, maybe three, days after spending the weekend with his mother, he’s in the hospital with a severe asthma attack that’s progressed to pneumonia. It’s too hard on him.” He took a long drag of his blueberry pomegranate smoothie.

This was a man who cared deeply. She wondered what it would be like to be loved by a man like him to such a deeply protective degree.

“You asked me to consider if I’d date a man with a child. The answer is yes, if he’s like you.”

He brought her hand to his lips and an arrow of need shot to all her female parts. “Dammit,” he muttered and looked at his beeper. “Gotta go. Fire.” He tossed some bills on the counter. Then cupped her face and kissed her forehead. “Call me at bedtime, Sweetness.” He ran out the door to his Mustang parked next to her SUV.

Ryder handed drinks to another waitress and then propped his forearms on the counter in front of Graci-Ella. “Seeing Boyd with you did my heart good. I’ve been worried about him for a long time. Lord, how he needs a good woman.” He winked again. “Someone like you. I’m good at picking up vibes. That’s how I knew Ivy Jo was it for me as soon as I laid eyes on her. Boyd’s been through a lot. Scuttlebutt has it he caught his ex-wife in bed with two men. Nearly did him in. Now this custody hearing.” Ryder shook his head. “That boy of his is one of a kind. I love him to death. The only customer I have who marches up to me, shakes my hand and thanks me for making him such a good drink. I’m betting the Mattster, as I call him, would love you to pieces.”

“Well, it’s a little early to be thinking on those terms.”

Ryder laughed. “You just keep telling yourself that, you and your blue fingernail polish.”

She leaned toward him. “Yeah, and your momma wears combat boots.”

His smile widened. “Well now, we got us a girl who knows how to play the dozens. I’m liking you more and more. What position did you play?”

She stood and smoothed her skirt. “Point guard. All American.”

A low whistle followed her. “Boyd’s gonna have his hands full with you, ain’t he?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Poor man has no idea.”




CHAPTER FIVE (#uc2189958-7dfc-5e52-a6aa-bb04542d1dea)


Boyd inserted his Bluetooth as soon as he started the ’stang and called the head of the marine rescue team. Wolf told him some kids had set fire to a dock. Two teenagers had fallen into the water while the blaze was moving from the dock to the board walk along the causeway.

He asked Wolf to grab his equipment, so he could jump on the boat as soon as he got there. Then his mind drifted back to the hardware store. He had to admit after flirting and talking with Graci-Ella, he felt like a new man. He’d avoided the opposite sex like lima beans since the legal papers suing him for custody had arrived. Christ, the whole lawsuit had him tied up in knots for so long.

Until her.

Something about her stirred him up and soothed him at the same time. Thank God he’d called his lawyer this morning and pushed him for answers because staying away from Graci-Ella was going to be hard. The attraction was just too strong. Now, maybe he wouldn’t have to.

As soon as he’d heard her heels clicking through the hardware store like a “come-get-me” tune, he’d been on the hunt like a wild, horny beast. When he’d set eyes on her jumping for that boxed fan, he had to put his hands on her—had to, as if laying claim to her was some invisible driving force.

He bolted from his car as soon as he hit the dock. Quinn gave him the “you’re fuckin’ late glare” and Boyd shot him the finger. He jumped onboard and started putting on his uniform and boots.

The captain sent Wolf’s team out to rescue the teens and assigned Ivy Jo to drive the fire truck Quinn always drove. Quinn grumbled about someone else operating what he considered his personal apparatus. “I told Ivy I didn’t want a scratch or a dent on my truck when she brought it back.”

“Bet she liked that.” Boyd yanked on his gear and stored his street clothes in a cabinet under his seat.

“Told me to kiss her lily white ass.” Quinn jerked the boat into gear and Boyd rode shotgun. Once they were on their way, Boyd lugged the fire hoses out of storage. Wolf and Barclay were in their scuba gear in the stern, hanging on while Quinn skimmed the boat across the gentle waves of the water; the stern end of the boat bouncing. In a matter of minutes, the smoke was visible.

Evidently Wolf’s keen eyes saw something, and he ordered Quinn to take the boat dockside beside the fire hydrant. Then Wolf and Barclay flipped backward into the water and swam toward two teens thrashing around.

Boyd hopped out of the boat and tied it to one of the piers away from the fire. He dragged the coupler end of the hose to the fire hydrant Jace had just opened and attached his hose to one of the openings. Once Jace turned on the hydrant, both he, Ivy Jo and Boyd aimed the force of water at the fire. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wolf and Barclay unceremoniously throw two kids into the boat.

The police on the scene arrested the underage drunken party-goers who had destroyed some property, in addition to setting the fire. Wolf, who was never one to mince words, claimed the kids all needed their asses kicked before and after they repaired what they had ruined.

Then Wolf and Barclay went underwater again to investigate the pylons and see how far down the damage had gone. Boyd focused on the plants and palm trees to contain the width of the flames, in an effort to keep the condominiums safe. Ivy Jo and other firefighters took care of the wooden deck and walkways. Most of the furniture was ruined.

A couple hours later, the crew returned to the station. Then the work began of cleaning gear and trucks, as well as themselves. By the time the firefighters were done, the captain had asked for Boyd’s car keys so he could retrieve the items he’d bought. The captain hung plants in front of every window, issuing strict orders they were to be taken care of and not knocked about.

Boyd went into the sleeping quarters and called home to see if Matt was still up. He could tell his son was fighting sleep just to hear his dad’s voice.

“Daddy, you’re late. Was there a fire?” Matt’s impatience over waiting sounded like whining.

Boyd lay across his bunk bed, tired now that he was coming off the adrenalin rush. “Yeah, buddy. Some teenagers were partying and they started a fire on a dock. Two kids fell in the water. The fire spread to the condominiums’ picnic area. But we put it out.”

“That’s good. I…I been waiting for you to call.” Matt yawned.

“How did you feel in school today?”

“Aunt Jinny wrote a note asking I not go outside for recess. I stayed in and helped the teacher with stuff. Guess what? You’ll never guess in a million years!”

“What.” Boyd grinned, wondering how many times his son would ask him the same question and how, just once, he wished he could shock him with the correct answer.

“I got two stars on my math paper, ʼcause…’cause I got all the answers right and the teacher could read them. Sometimes I get in a hurry and get sloppy.”

Boyd gave a low whistle. “Wow, two stars!! That’s totally awesome. Did you hang your paper on the refrigerator?”

“Aunt Jinny did.” Matt coughed a deep, rattily cough. One that was too familiar to Boyd.

“Good, because I’ll want to see it. I’m real proud of your hard work, Matt. Now go to sleep.”

The typical sound of Matt curling up on his side and the blanket rustling came through the phone line. He coughed again. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you more.” He ended the call and rolled over for a little nap before he would scrounge the refrigerator for something to eat. Before his eyes closed, he sent Graci-Ella a text. Call me.

His phone chimed. R U safe?

He stared at the text. It had been a long time since a woman cared enough to ask him that. Needing to hear her voice, he called her. “Hi Sweetness.”

“Are you okay?” Water sloshed.

He pinched his eyes shut. “Don’t tell me you’re taking a bath.”

There was no reply. Just water splashing. And his dick hardening.

“Well?”

“You told me not to tell you. Besides, I’m shaving.”

“Don’t cut your leg.”

“That’s not what I’m shaving. Sleep well, big guy.” She hung up.

Daybreak and a case of yawns brought Graci-Ella to the fire station—well, that and a chance to see Boyd. She lugged in two big boxes of four dozen glazed donuts in one arm and an equal number of mixed donuts in the other. She set them on the dining room table, along with her bag of calendars she’d done last year of the Buccaneers football team, a collegiate female swimming team and a wrestling team from a Florida University. Visuals for the firefighters to look at to get an idea of her style of work she meant to show them the other night, but her run with Einstein and talk with Boyd had taken priority.

She noted the petite plant hanging above the small window at the sink and complimented the captain on it, which seemed to please him. He showed her around to see the other plants she and Boyd had picked out yesterday. Since the captain didn’t mention Boyd’s running into her at the hardware store, he’d evidently kept their shopping together a secret.

Ivy Jo was making several pots of coffee. “Grab a cup and a couple donuts before the vultures start circling to snatch a donut in each grubby hand.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” She sat at the large table as the firefighters stumbled in in various stages of dress. Emily, like Ivy Jo, was already dressed. As for the men, some wore jeans and t-shits and others were still in their sleep pants or shorts. Her mouth opened and froze, so did her hand with a donut partway to her mouth. Boyd wore nothing but jeans, the first two buttons open, showcasing his obliques. Thank God, he wasn’t into waxing his chest for he had just the right amount of nipple teasing chest hair, and her nipples were cresting for a looksee.

His son’s name in script was tattooed near his heart. Tribal tats ran across one wide shoulder and continued down to his elbow.

He smiled at her before bending over to kiss her forehead. “Do we have you to thank for the donut treats this morning?” His voice was still thick with sleep. “I know I have you and your shaving routine to thank for a restless night.”

She smiled as she took a bite of donut. Good to know. “Yes, I brought the donuts. Take as much as you want.”

His gaze shot to her for a minute and swept over her attire—a short-sleeved, purple dress with a cowl neckline and slim skirt and purple heels—in a hungry caress. “I’ll have just one, thank you.”

She smiled and placed a second one on his napkin. “Confucius said only a weak man can live on one puny donut.”

He snorted before strutting into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. He sat next to her when he returned. “Please tell me you didn’t cut yourself shaving.” His voice lowered. “Although I do have lots of experience at kissing boo-boos, you know.” He bit into a donut and chewed.

She sipped her coffee and glanced at him through her lashes. “No, I’m fine.”

He leaned his knee against her thigh. “That’s good to hear since I dreamed about it. The kissing, I mean. Lots of kissing. Listen, Sweetness, I need to call Matt to see how he’s doing this morning. He was coughing last night.”

He gulped his coffee as he thumbed a number. “Matt?” His forehead wrinkled in concern as his son’s raspy voice sounded over the cell. “Is your throat sore, buddy?”

“Yeah and my chest hurts.” There was a slight wheeze to the child’s breathing.

“You better hand the phone to Aunt Jinny.” Graci-Ella hated to keep eavesdropping in on Boyd’s conversation but his little boy sounded terrible. “Jinny, did you take his temperature?” There was a reply. Boyd repeated it. “One-hundred-and-two point six? Call the pediatrician as soon as his office opens. Keep Matt home from school. Call me with any news.”

He sat back in his chair and sighed. “Fuck! We go through this same list of medical complaints so often, it wears on my nerves. When it’s his weekend with his mother, I know he spends a large part of that time with my ex-wife’s housekeeper, I suspect he is still exposed to a lot of smoke—and not all of it legal, either.”

“Which is one of the reasons you’re seeking permanent custody.” Her remark was more statement than a question.

“Almost every asthma attack morphs into pneumonia. The worry for him tears me apart. I love that little fella is if he were the whole light in my world. He depends on me to take care of him.” He stood and went for another cup of coffee, his pace slower this time as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Darryl, or Kissy Lips, picked up a glazed donut, caught Graci-Ella’s eye and then wiggled his tongue in and out of the hole.

If he thinks this is turning me on, his brain has dropped into one of his balls with room left over for a dozen hot wings.

Wolf told Darryl to act his age, while Graci-Ella made a mental note to remove him from her list. This was one asshole she didn’t want to work with.

“Oh, come on, Wolf, chicks dig this stuff.”

“What stuff?” Boyd turned his chair around and straddled it, his head swiveling from Darryl to Wolf to Graci-Ella. Like a gentleman, he picked up his donut and started eating it and watched Darryl select a strawberry iced pastry from another box and do his tongue waggling.

Boyd jumped out of his chair and fisted his hand in Darryl’s t-shirt, yanking him nose to nose. “You’ll damn well show my lady some respect and stop flirting with her. Know what, Kissy Lips? Women appreciate a more subtle, flattering approach.”

Darryl sneered. “Listen to this, guys. Some expert advice from a looser who couldn’t hang onto his wife. What the hell would he know about turning on a woman?”

Graci-Ella took Boyd’s hand and shot a glance at Darryl. “You’d be surprised at how completely he can turn on a woman and barely touch her.”

Boyd’s arm slipped around her waist. “Would you like to walk to our apparatus garage? You could look at some of the equipment to see if there’s any you want to include in your pictures as a backdrop?”

“Sounds like a great idea.” She stood, snatched her camera and followed him down the hallway. “I’ll snap some photos of your equipment.”

Boyd stopped on a dime and she rammed into his back. His hand swung out like a stop sign on a bus. “Don’t say stuff like that to me unless we’re alone.”

“You’re the one who loaded up my backend yesterday. After you picked me up.” She smirked at her double entendre.

His back straight, he charged ahead. “Careful. I’ll sue you for sexual harassment. I see how you are. All tease.” He grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. “And stop wearing that damn perfume! You drive me freaking insane.”

“Okay, no perfume.” His arm was around her waist, holding her close, but he wouldn’t look at her. “Look at me. Is that so hard?”

“Oh, Sweetness, you don’t even want to mention the word hard right about now. You have a way of teasing…and you speaking up in my defense back there threw me for a loop. I want to make love to you so badly right now. Slowly. Sweetly.”

This man was a rare combination of tenderness, strength and blatant sexuality that drew her near him so strongly she wanted to burrow into his warmth and spend a couple hours there, in his arms, skin to skin, lips to lips, and fingertips exploring.

“Yeah, me too,” she breathed.

“So, what is this we’re doing here? Teasing? Having a good time? Or dancing toward something more serious? He looked at her then, his gaze hot. “Because I have to be damn honest and tell you I don’t want any man touching you, but me. Is that clear? I know I have no right to lay down demands, but…” He backed her against the wall, heat rolling off him. “I want to get to know you better, not just sexually,” his voice lowered to an intimate whisper. “Though that craving is eating at me from the inside out right about now, but I also want to know you better as a friend, a woman, someone I can talk to when I have a need to. You make me feel like a man again, and damn if I don’t need that.” His hand reached out to touch her hair. “Need you.”

Her palms itched to forge a trail up his bare chest. “I need you too, which is so unlike me.” Firemen were passing by and crisscrossing the wide hallway. And the two of them were voicing their personal desires for a relationship neither was probably ready for; still, the man was her captivation. He had been since she laid eyes on him. “If you think for a minute that you’re not sexy as hell, then your ex-wife is still controlling you. Now, show me your equipment.”

Boyd leaned his head back and laughed. “God, woman. Come on, I’ll show you my bright red fire truck.”




CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_adb127f4-23b2-57ab-937a-1b67e1b987c5)


On their return from the large garage area full of huge fire trucks and ambulances, Graci-Ella told Boyd she’d already decided not to use Kissy Lips in the calendar. “From what I’ve seen of the rest of the squad, he doesn’t measure up to their standards, physically or heroically. I don’t want any trouble out of him. He reminds me of some of the whack jobs I have to represent. Could you sit near him?” Her blue eyes implored him; how could he possibly resist.

Boyd squeezed her hand. “Whatever I can do to help, all you have to do is ask.” They entered the dining area where the firefighters and EMT’s, as they ate, were glancing over the calendars she had bought with her.

Graci-Ella smiled when she opened her briefcase, removing her tablet, pencil and tape measure. “I’ll need all of you men to take off your shirts, and that includes you, Captain Steele. I love the highlights of grey you’ve got going on in your hair.”

Quinn leaned as he walked behind the captain. “What she’s trying to say in a nice way is old farts can be sexy too.”

The captain raised his coffee mug. “Well, thanks, Quinn. I didn’t think you noticed.” The rest of the men laughed, including Ivy Jo and Emily.

Boyd slid his chair behind Darryl’s, so he’d be nearby in case the jackass got rowdy or mouthy over Graci-Ella’s decision.

She waved some papers. “I also have a spousal agreement form for your wife, husband or significant other to sign, giving their approval for you to be in the calendar. Please turn them into the captain as soon as you can, so I can move ahead on this project.” She waved the yellow forms. “These puppies are important. I don’t want a jealous mate chasing me down. I could probably outrun him or her, but not if they’re pointing a gun at me and I’m in high heels.”

Everyone laughed and teased her. Before long, one of the guys nicknamed her Stilettoes, which she graciously accepted on a giggle. “I think I like it.” She wiggled back and forth which got Boyd’s sex meter revving, as if it hadn’t been on full charge since he first laid eyes on her this morning.

“I’m going to need about six of those forms. Maybe even ten.” Darryl leaned on the back legs of his chair as he boasted. Other firefighters groaned.

Other than flicking Darryl’s ear with his thumb and index finger, Boyd didn’t move. The rest of the squad wasted no time in shucking their shirts and posing for her as she looked at each one, asking them questions in a sexy voice, taking their bicep and chest measurements, for God’s sake, and noting it all down. Boyd kept his jealousy on a slow burn, mainly because she was all business about everything.

The nickname angle evidently fascinated her, for she asked every fireperson what the rest of the squad called him or her. When she reached Kissy Lips, she cocked her head to the side and frowned. “I don’t know. You’re pretty beefy.”

His head reared back as if she’d slapped him. “What are you saying, bitch? That I’m too fat?”

Boyd had him on the floor, his knee across his neck before the chair he sat in had a chance to clatter onto the tile floor. “We don’t call our feminine co-workers that name and certainly not our guests. Apologize.”

“Like hell!” Darryl Weir’s face was crimson with anger.

“Graci-Ella did you measure the captain yet? Why don’t you do that while Kissy Lips thinks of a suitable apology?”

“I’ll kill you, you big bastard,” Darryl spat.

Boyd spared him a glare. “Yeah, you work on that.”

The captain, dressed again after being measured, stroked and purred over by Graci-Ella, stalked toward Boyd and raised his eyebrows. “Did this mouthy kid think of a request for forgiveness yet? Oh, did I overhear you talking to your babysitter about Matt’s temperature earlier?”

“Yeah,” He ran a hand across the back of his neck, squeezing the tight muscles. His knee was still on Darryl’s neck as he struggled to get away from Boyd. “We’ll know after the doctor visit. Aunt Jinny’s going to call as soon as his office opens. Same old asthmatic symptoms.”

The captain leaned over. “I’ll take care of numb nuts here. Thanks for keeping him under control.” Boyd pivoted his knee off the young man’s neck and the captain jerked Darryl onto his feet.

Graci-Ella sat on an empty chair next to Boyd. “Thanks for staying.”

The captain had Darryl by the scruff of the neck. “State your apology, Weir.”

His glance shot daggers at Boyd before he glanced at Graci-Ella. “I’m sorry for calling you a bitch. Can I still be in the calendar?”

“It is my choice who does and who doesn’t go into the calendar. I’m focusing on the heroes of this unit. Neither your behavior nor your remarks strike me as especially heroic.” She exhaled a sigh. “Look, I’m doing this project on my time, for free.” She stared him down. “What hours I spend here, I have to make up for on my regular job. I’m a lawyer. Believe me, I have no problem with saying no to someone with anger management issues.”

His face reddened with rage before he turned and ran his fist into the side of the refrigerator, cursing and throwing a tantrum. The captain ordered Wolf and Quinn to take Darryl to the equipment room to scrub down the fire trucks until he worked off some steam. They each grabbed an arm and dragged Darryl down the steps to the garage area.

“This is what happens when you get stuck with the Fire Chief’s nephew. I’m going to have to walk through burning coals to fire his ass. But it looks like I’m going to have to call the boss this morning and explain how unsuitable the kid is. He’s plain spoiled. Zero self-control Graci-Ella, I apologize for his behavior. I really do.” The captain strode into his office.

She smiled at Boyd, and his mind damn near went blank for a minute. Her pen tapped against her paper. “I’ve decided to use everyone’s nickname instead of their real names. I think it’ll add a bit of humor and charm to the calendar. Plus, it’ll help keep all the men more anonymous.” She placed her warm hand on his wrist. “That should also help alleviate any remaining concerns you might be harboring about the project.”

She leaned toward him and he got a stronger whiff of her perfume. Holy hell, I want to run my nose all over her body.

Boyd shook his head a couple times to clear out the sensual fog. “I thought I made it plain. Guess I didn’t. You’ve got my mind all mixed up. I’m in on the calendar project. I gotta admit it was a hard decision to make. As I’ve told you, by their lifestyle, I think my ex-wife’s new love is selling or running some kind of a drug operation. I’ve got a private investigator on that aspect of her life. She can live it any way she wants. My main concern is how it could affect Matty.” He winced. “Sorry, he doesn’t like for me to call him that anymore. He says it’s �babyfied.’”

She laughed, low and sultry. God, can this woman get any sexier? “Sounds like he’s growing up, Dad.”

“I still slip and fall back into old habits.”

His cell phone rang a loud beat. “Sorry, that’s Aunt Jinny’s ring.” He slipped his cell from his pocket. “Yeah. Okay, I’m on my way.” He disconnected the call. “It’s my son.” Boyd charged out of the dining room and the tap-tap of high heels followed him as he knocked on Captain Steele’s door.

“Yeah? Come in.”

Boyd pushed open the door. “Captain. Aunt Jinny just called. Matt’s having such a hard time breathing, his lips are turning blue. I’m taking him to the emergency room.”

“Kid needs oxygen now, Tiny.” The captain spied Ivy Jo, part of one of the EMT teams, walking by and yelled for her and Jace to take an ambulance to pick-up Matt. Tiny jogged behind them to the apparatus storage area. Since the required equipment was always kept in the vehicles, all they had to do was open the garage door, hop in and haul ass.

Graci-Ella was impressed with how quickly an ambulance could hit the streets, siren blaring. Captain Steele walked her to the coffee pot and poured them both a cup. “He’s got his hands full with his little boy, doesn’t he? He’s been telling me bits and pieces as we talk and grow closer.”

The station chief poured some creamer into his coffee. “Yeah, the kid’s a charmer. Well behaved thanks to Tiny teaching him manners and telling him bad behavior is unacceptable.” The captain grinned and elbowed her. “But don’t let that fool you. That child has six-feet-eight of macho male wrapped around his little finger.”

She took another sip of her coffee, surprised at how good it was. “Lucky kid.” She glanced at the captain, and they both laughed.

“I’m glad to see he’s taken an interest in you. His first wife burned him pretty bad. The weekends he doesn’t have Matt, Tiny usually hangs out with some of the guys here at the squad. Basketball, beach volleyball or riding Harleys. Be nice for him to have someone special to join in the fun.”

“I’ve never ridden a Harley or any type of motorcycle for that matter.”

“I bet if you’d ask, he’d take you for a ride.” The captain smiled as he raised his cup to his lips.

She shook her open hand in an erasing manner. “No. No. If he wants me to have it, he’ll give it to me.” Oh God, tell me the heat I’m feeling on my face is not something he can see because I wouldn’t mind Tiny giving me a good ride—motorcycle not mandatory. I’m awful. Just awful!

The captain chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry to leave you, but I have to fill out paperwork on the use of the ambulance since we didn’t get a nine-one-one request for it. Call me when you want to start taking pictures of the men. I’m quite pleased with the idea. I’m proud of my group of firemen and firewomen.” He glanced at the dent in the refrigerator. “Well, except for one, who I’ve been ordered to give one more chance. I’m not in the best of moods over the Fire Chief’s orders.”

“A decision like that could prove dangerous. I think the guy’s unstable.” She glanced at the large clock on the wall. “I better head into the office. Thank you for agreeing to all this.”

“No problem. I’ve seen too many people lose everything in a fire or hurricane. The local food bank helps a lot of families.”

Hurrying down the hallway to her office, the rolled carpet draped over one arm and her new desk lamp under her other, she was surprised to see the furniture she’d picked out yesterday setting outside her door. She placed the lamp and rug on top of the desk before walking into her cheery yellow office.

“Wow, what a difference over that dreary beige!” She glanced at Jo-Jo, standing on a rung of a short ladder and installing her fan. The window was open to allow fresh air in to dispel the paint vapors. “I had no clue you could get all this done so quickly. It looks fabulous so far.”

“You picking out a darker shade for the end wall with the window gives the optical illusion of a longer room. Good choice. We’ll clean the floor and move in your furniture. Then you can start organizing stuff the way you want it. By the end of the day, no one will recognize this ole closet.”

Jo-Jo was right. While he mopped the tile floor, she hurried out to her car to bring in the pictures she wanted hung and her plants. She helped him carry in the desk furniture and place the rug before bringing in the leather club chairs.

Jo-Jo slipped the hammer from his tool belt. “Now, show Ol’ Jo-Jo where you want these pictures. On the section of wall at either end of the long, narrow window, she wanted framed prints of two of her favorite Monet paintings—Irises and Wooded Scene. On the wall beside the clients’ chairs she wanted framed copies of her diplomas from University of Connecticut, Harvard School of Law, her basketball team at UConn after winning a National Championship, and one of her jumping, making a basket.

“Think you can place them in a large square?”

“Is this you, child?” Jo-Jo stared at the one of her shooting the basket.

“I made All-American with that shot.” She elbowed him. “String music. What a night!”

He smiled wide when he looked at her. “Well, I will be! As tall as you is, I shoulda figured you for an athlete and All-American too! Well, bless my stars.” He got his tape measure out to start marking where he’d hang them.

Meanwhile, she lugged in her palm tree, remembering Boyd’s leaning over to place both the plant and the large pot in her car. She set it in the empty corner so she could look at it whenever she wanted. Dear God, he was a sexy man. Nice too. She unboxed her coat tree and screwed the sections together.

Jo-Jo hung her two plants from the ceiling strips and declared his work done. “The rest is for you to do. Set up your computer, put away your books and files and set out the doo-dads you women like to have in your offices.”

“Thank you. I really didn’t think it would all fit in here with room to move. You proved me wrong.”

“Oh, yee of little faith…” he laughed and ambled up the hallway, pushing his cart holding a ladder, painting supplies and empty paint cans.

By the time Graci-Ella left work that day, her office was up and running. Her files were neatly stored. Files for trials not yet held were stacked on the narrow unit. Shelves were filled with legal books, family pictures and basketball trophies. Everything was organized at last, just the way she liked it. In fact, she was so thrilled with the transformation of her little office, she almost hated to leave it.




CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_d269654f-96ef-5638-9d9b-7e66680ad775)


Boyd’s aunt dropped him at the station about five hours later. He collapsed onto a chair at the large wooden dining room table, the heels of his hands over his eyes as he mentally shifted from scared dad to macho fireman. He took a deep shuddering breath and straightened. The crew had stopped their various chores to circle around him to ask about Matt. Someone set a cup of coffee in front of him. He gave a mock salute with it. “Thanks.”

After a couple sips, he sat the cup down and laced his fingers at the back of his head. “Matt has pneumonia. They’ve got him on oxygen and an IV of meds. He was sleeping when I left. My aunt’s going home for something to eat, to grab his favorite books and her crocheting. Do you know all the nurses in the ER know him by name? Isn’t that a damn sad state of affairs?”

Jace sat a sandwich in front of Boyd. “Thanks, Jace.”

“Sure. You gotta be emotionally beat. I go nuts when little Andy gets the sniffles and cries all night. My wife stays calm, thank God, because I fall apart. It’s gotta be doubly hard on you, playing both roles.”

This group of co-workers—sometimes pains in the asses, sometimes understanding siblings—were Boyd’s family. They understood the emotional stress he was under. “Did the EMT’s tell you how bad he looked when we got there?”

Ivy Jo rubbed her hands over his shoulders, massaging his tense muscles. “I told them, Tiny. He was weak as a puff of air. As soon as he saw you, his arms rose toward you. He adores his daddy. That much is clear.” She leaned over his shoulder to look into his eyes. “Tiny, we need to get him seen by a specialist in asthma and lung diseases. Want me to look online for some?” She spoke as if this little white boy was her son or nephew. Her genuine concern had Boyd dangling by an emotional thread.

He patted her brown hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. “If you have the time, I’d really appreciate it. You sure Ryder won’t mind?”

“Ryder? You still dating that ugly, old, reprobate?” Quinn winked at her. “He’s not getting too frisky, is he?”

She planted a fist on her hip. “Do I ask you questions about your sex life? Don’t be prying into mine, which is just fine and double-dandy, by the way.”

Captain Steele exited his office and asked about Matt. The siren went off and the location of the fire announced. Half-eaten sandwiches in hand, fire personnel raced to the uniform rooms. How Quinn was able to get in his uniform and gear before anyone else, no one knew. As driver of the largest and newest fire truck, Quinn expected the men assigned to his apparatus to be onboard seconds after he was settled in the seat and revving the diesel engine. Heaven help you if he had to blow the horn and holler your name, because he would ride your ass until the next slow-moving fireman rose to the top of his shit list. His truck always had to be the first one out of the station.

Smoke rolled skyward as they turned onto an older residential street. The houses were so close together, the blaze had spread to the homes on either side of the building of the fire’s origin.

Boyd dragged the main hose to the fire hydrant farther up the street and, using a large wrench with a pentagon-shaped socket, opened the hydrant and made the connection. He opened the valve and ran to attach the hose to the fire engine, which used a powerful pump to boost the water presser and split it into multiple streams for numerous hoses.

Ivy Jo handed one off to Wolf who slung the hose over his shoulder and practically ran up the rungs of the ladder to reach the roof of the middle house. Boyd co-joined other hoses so more firemen could try their best to extinguish the fires on the nearby homes. Jace took a section and followed his brother Wolf up the ladder, too, in an effort to contain the blaze from the top down.

More fire trucks rolled in and hoses hooked up to distinguish the flames. Captain Steele ordered all the occupants of the houses and onlookers to stand across the street. He inquired until he found out who lived in each house. Had they gotten out safely? Did they have their kids and pets? One mother suddenly went ballistic and could be heard screaming above the din of machinery. Her son was missing. He was with her just a few minutes ago.

The captain spoke into his mouthpiece. “Boyd, got a missing boy. Ten years old. Lives in the middle house, his bedroom is upstairs, middle door on left. His mother thinks he went back inside for a ball glove.”

“On it. What’s his name?” Boyd grabbed a hose.

“Dustin. It’s his dad’s glove. He gave it to the boy to keep until he got back from Afghanistan.”

“Oh hell, of course he’d risk his life to retrieve it.” His Matt would do the same. Boyd flipped down his mask, turned on his oxygen and charged inside to the smoky pandemonium. The blast of heat hit him like a motherfucker. What was it doing to Dustin? Would he know enough to stay close to the floor?

Boyd raced up the steps, going as light on his feet as a giant like him could. He rounded the corner and there lay the boy on the floor. Boyd ran water over the walls and carpet surrounding the kid, not wanting to hit him full force with the hose, lest it take off any of his skin. This way it would soak into him. He reached into the bathroom and hosed down some towels and laid them over Dustin’s back before he scooped him off the floor. Sure enough, the boy clutched his dad’s baseball glove.

Speaking into his mouthpiece, he told the Captain he had the boy and he was still breathing, although unconscious. “On our way out. Have a stretcher and oxygen ready.”

About three steps down, Boyd’s boot broke through a step. On a twist and a roll, he maneuvered the kid on top of him when he landed. He jerked his boot out of the hole, but most of the old wood of the step came with it. Holding the kid and the hose took some finesse as he turned around so he could stand. Trouble was he was facing going up instead of going down and the soul of his foot hurt. His mood was going to hell in a hurry.

He backed down a few steps until he passed the solid wall and reached the banisters. At the next step, the board broke, forcing him onto the step he’d just vacated. The stairway was weakening. He kicked the banister free with his good foot and jumped to the floor with the kid, hoping like hell the fire hadn’t deteriorated the floor. The last thing he needed was for them to end up in the basement.

The floorboards cracked when his boots hit, splintered, broke and through the dust of a century or more of life. Boyd and the child he held close to his chest fell to the top of the washer and dryer in the basement. The jagged edges of the old lumber tore off part of his face gear. Pain shot through Boyd’s head, back and that damn step still clung to his boot. Fuck!

He rolled off the dented appliances and, limping, searched for an outside door. On the other side of the basement, concrete steps lead to locked double doors. Laying the kid aside, he checked his pulse and respiratory rate. Both were fair. Boyd snatched his ax from his utility belt and hacked his way out of the wooden portal. Once he had a hole big enough to pass Dustin through, he gave his position and handed the boy off to another firefighter. He made the hole bigger and pushed himself and his step buddy nailed to the bottom of his boot through the ragged hole he’d made.

Once he’d hobbled his way to the ambulance, he could hear Dustin’s mother giving the kid holy hell. Boyd stood beside her. “Ma’am, I know you’re upset because your son risked his life and is lucky to have survived. But your husband put him in charge of something.” He tipped his head toward the glove Dustin clutched to his chest. “He took the lessons of being responsible you’ve probably been drilling into him and knew he had to get that glove for his dad. Kids think differently than adults. They haven’t mentally matured the capacity to reason things through, they just react.”

She nodded and started to cry. “Yes, I know.”

“You’ve got a fine son, ma’am. He’s one to be proud of. He truly is.”

He hobbled away to the other ambulance and asked someone to remove the board from his boot. It was all he could do to keep from yelling a string of cuss words when the EMT pulled out the nail for it had gone through his boot into his foot.

“Take your boot off. Let me look at that hole. You up to date on your tetanus shots?” The older, barrel chested man gave him the stink eye which galled him even more.

“Aren’t we all? It’s a company requirement.” He removed his boot and blood ran out. “Put some antiseptic on it, a patch and wrap it up. Looks like we’ve got hours of work left here today.”

“If you think I’m letting you…”

Boyd grasped the old man’s shirt. “You have no freaking idea the day I’ve had already. Don’t give me a bunch of bullshit. Fix my foot so I can do my damn job.”

The old man yelled for the captain who took one look at Boyd’s foot and pointed to the ambulance where the boy was being cared for. They rode to the hospital together, an ice pack on Boyd’s face where the wood had ripped away part of his protective mask.

A shower, a salad and a glass of wine and Graci-Ella had unwound enough from her day at work to watch the news she always recorded on the TV. Tonight, local news topped national. A fire destroyed one house and did serious damage to two others. One fireman rescued a boy from a burning building, falling through the steps and floor to the basement in the process. The boy sustained minor injuries and was released. The fireman was hospitalized.

The camera panned on the kid who talked in a hoarse voice about this giant of a man who kept him safe as they fell through floors and then carried him out of the building. “He was like Superman, but with bigger muscles, and he kept telling me I was going to be okay. Sometimes he called me by my real name and sometimes he’d call me Matty. I think maybe he got hit on the head and was confused.”

She sat straight in her comfy chair. Matty? The man the kid boasted about had to be Boyd. How badly was he hurt? She thumbed through her cell phone numbers until she found Noah Steele, Station thirty-two. A press of her thumb to call, and he answered on the second ring.

“Captain Steele here.”

“This is Graci-Ella. I just heard about the fire today on the news. I record it every day so I don’t miss it.” Stop rambling. I sound moronic.

His smile almost filtered across the phone lines like a handful of glitter. “And you want to know if it was Tiny who was hurt and how bad his injuries were and what room he was assigned at Bay Care Health System?”

Lord have mercy. Is this man a mind reader?

She twirled a strand of damp hair around her finger. “Well…ah…I knew he had a rough day with his son. I was hoping it wasn’t him. I do have his number, but I didn’t know if he’d have his cell or be in any shape to talk.”

A slow chuckle crackled over the line. “I’m an old army dawg, honey. I don’t mince words, especially when I see an instant attraction between two people I like. He’s in room three-ten. Take him some snicker doodles from Westside Bakery. Remember, room three-ten.” He ended the call and she flew to her bedroom to put on some clothes.

She called the bakery to see if they were still open and did they have snicker doodles. Did they also have chocolate chip pecan cookies and coconut macaroons? She ordered a dozen of the kind Boyd liked and a dozen mixed for herself. A change from her pajamas to red shorts, a white tank top over a red bra and red sneakers, as well as a quick make-up job, a spritz of perfume and she was out the door.

The hospital elevator stopped on the third floor and she made a turn, following the corridor toward Boyd’s room. Was she chasing after this guy like some needy female? He talked as if he was really into her, but was he? After all, they’d only met a few days ago. She glanced at the bag of boxed cookies. My God, she’d even gone out of her way to bring him his favorites. But, what if Captain Steele was teasing her, trying to make a fool of her? What if Boyd absolutely hated their cookies? She chewed her bottom lip; better to take them to work tomorrow and set the cookies out in the lunch room. Except, few of her co-workers would appreciate them. That was the thing.

She leaned against the edge of the open door to three-ten, working up the courage to peek in. If he was asleep, she’d just leave the cookies and run. Slowly she leaned around the doorjamb and peered in. His eyes were closed. His face was patched on one side. As quietly as she could, she set the bag on his nightstand and turned to leave. A wrist snaked out and grabbed her forearm.

Her head whipped around and gray eyes bore into hers. The heat of a blush traveled up her neck and across her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to waken you.”

“You didn’t.” His hand released hers and slid around her waist, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed. “Your perfume did. Why did you wait so long to come in?” His gray gaze slid over her face. “I didn’t think women blushed anymore.” His perusal continued downward until it landed on her red lace bra under her tank top. “Why is it everything about you turns me on in a heartbeat?” He cleared his throat and exhaled a deep sigh.

“Please don’t tell me that pink and green bag is from Westside Bakery and has snicker doodles in it.” He entwined his fingers with hers and drew her to the bed next to his chest and she sat.

Quietly.

“Well?” His other hand swept her long hair before he cupped the back of her head and brought her face close to his. Their breaths mingled. Her lips were an inch away from his, and temptation’s fingers were pushing her closer.

“You asked me not to tell you.” She offered him a sly smile.

“Woman, you could drive a man mad.” He reached for the bag and shoved his hand in. His wide smile was a three-pointer from downtown. And she did love those three-pointers. What melted her heart even more, was he opened the box and offered her one first.

“The other box is for me. Chocolate chip pecan as well as coconut macaroons. The box you’re holding is all yours.”

He bite into one of his cookies and moaned.

She pulled her box out of the bag and opened it. “How’s Matt?”

“A nurse was kind enough to wheel me down to see him. He’s doing better. Poor kid got all upset when he saw my face. I told him a bedtime story. He’ll be here until his pneumonia clears up.”

“What did he say about your boo-boos?”

The corners of his lips lifted as did one dark eyebrow. “Boo-boos? Please tell me you’ve got experience at kissing boo-boos.”

She bit into a macaroon and chewed. Hmm, the coconut was very moist, just the way she liked it. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I do. Even black eyes.”




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