Jill Shalvis - Flashpoint

“You’re looking at me funny again. Do I have something in my teeth?”

“No.”

“Do I smell bad?”

That tugged a laugh out of her. He smelled delicious, and she suspected he knew it. “No.”

“Then what?”

“I dreamed about you,” she admitted.

“Ah. Were we mixing business and pleasure?”

She opened her mouth to say yes, oh most definitely yes, but then shut it again. No need to give him more power.

He just laughed softly. “We were, weren’t we?”

She felt the blush creep up her cheeks.

“Yeah.” Another low laugh and a naughty grin. “We were.”

“Zach-”

“Was it good?”

She bit her lower lip but it must have been all over her face because his eyes went all sexy and sleepy. “Off the charts, huh?”

She closed her eyes. Oh yeah, off the charts.

Tell him you want to do the mixing in person. She was still trying to find the words when he said with a smile, “So, exactly how off the charts were we?”

“Zach!” yelled Dustin from the other room. “Phone!”

Zach sighed. “I’ll be back. Don’t move.”

When he was gone, she let out a breath and fanned her face, saying the words she’d meant to say in front of him. “I was wrong. I want to mix business and pleasure. Just once.” She smacked her own forehead. “How hard is that to say?”

Behind her, someone cleared his throat.

Oh, God. Wincing, she turned around. Blake had come in the back door in his silent way and stood there. “Sorry.”

She just closed her eyes.

“No, it’s okay. I didn’t hear anything.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” he said.

“Really?”

“Nothing except you want to jump his bones.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Then I didn’t hear it.” He strode to the refrigerator, where he scrounged around and pulled out a soda, raising a brow when he realized she was still staring at him. “What? I won’t tell anyone.”

“Everyone tells everyone everything around here.”

He acknowledged that with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Okay, you know what? I’m going to need a secret of yours.”

He choked on his soda. “What?”

“That way I can guarantee that neither of us will talk.”

Blake looked at her, then turned away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Are you kidding? It’s a great idea.”

His narrow shoulders were tense now. “But my secret is really someone else’s.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Never mind.” Abruptly, he set his soda on the counter and walked out.

“Blake?”

But he was gone, carrying her very revealing secret. And then the fire bell went off and she put it out of her mind.

* * *

Later that day, Brooke and Dustin were in the kitchen devouring a box of cookies between them while standing in front of the opened refrigerator trying to cool off.

“We’re having a poker game Friday night at Cristina’s,” Dustin said. “You should join us.”

“Did you ask Cristina?”

“Don’t worry about her. She’ll be happy to see you.”

“Happy? Really? Cristina?”

“Okay,” he said with a fond smile. “So she can be aloof, but it’s just a facade. She’s really just a toasted marshmallow.”

“What did you call me?” Cristina came into the kitchen. She was in the bottom half of her fire gear, with a snug T-shirt on top. Her hair was pulled back and she looked hot, grumpy and irritated as she grabbed a handful of cookies.

“A toasted marshmallow.” Dustin grinned at her, leaning back against the counter. “Crispy on the outside, soft and gushy on the inside.”

Cristina hopped up on the counter next to him and set her head back against the upper cabinets, arms and legs spread in the aggressive sprawl of an alpha female who knew her place in the world. “Dustin?”

“Yeah?”

“The next time you call me a marshmallow, I’m going to pound you into the ground.” She uttered this threat with her eyes closed, without moving a single muscle. “Next time.”

Dustin winked at Brooke. “Definitely crispy on the outside.”

“I can be a marshmallow sometimes, too,” Brooke said.

A sound escaped Cristina, who still didn’t move or open her eyes. “You don’t know crispy. Dustin? Get me a water?”

“Ah, but I didn’t hear the magic word.”

“Get me a water. Please.”

“See?” Dustin grinned as he reached for a glass. “Soft and mushy.”

“I’ll have you know there’s not a single inch of soft and mushy on me anywhere,” Cristina muttered without her usual heat, making Brooke take a closer look at her. The female firefighter looked pale and just a little clammy, alerting her to the fact that maybe Cristina wasn’t just being her usual pissy self, but might actually be in pain. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Migraine.” Dustin filled the glass, which he gently nudged into Cristina’s hands. Then he lay a cold, wet compress over her forehead.

“Thanks.” Cristina let out a sigh. “Christ, this sucks. I’m going to the chief’s party tonight. No matter what, I’m going.”

“You should go home and sleep this off,” Dustin said.

“I know. But first…” She sat up and groaned. “I’ve got to clean out my unit from that last call. Blake’s doing something for the chief, so-”

Dustin set his hand to the middle of her chest and held her down. “If you’re going to get rid of that headache, you need to sit real still and you know it.”

The bell rang, and Cristina moaned, covering her ears as dispatch called for her and Blake’s unit.

Dustin headed for the door. “I’ll tell them you can’t. They can get a different unit.”

“Dustin-”

“Save it.” He left the room.

Brooke looked at Cristina, so carefully still, pale and clearly miserable. “Can I get you anything?”

“Got a spare head?”

“Why don’t you go home and go to bed?”

“I can’t go anywhere until the rig is cleaned. We’ve got an inspection today.”

“I know. We’re all in the same boat.”

“Oh, really? Are you on probation for falling asleep and not hearing a call?”

“Uh, no.”

“Do you have a recent traffic violation?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then get the hell out of my boat.” Cristina sighed and straightened, looking positively green now. “Okay, I’m getting up. Watch your shoes.”

“Stay.” Brooke didn’t quite dare put her hands on Cristina as Dustin had done, but she held them up. “I’ll clean out your rig for you.”

Cristina pulled the cold pack from her head and stared at Brooke. “Why? What do you want?”

Brooke let out a little laugh. “I’m offering to do something nice for you, even though you’re not all that nice to me, and you’re questioning it?”

“I’m less than ‘not all that nice’ to you, I’m downright bitchy. So the question stands, New Hire. Why would you do my job for me?”

Brooke shrugged. “Why not?”

Cristina just stared at her, the pain evident in her eyes but not hiding her cynicism. “The question isn’t why not, but why?”

“Maybe I like to help people.”

“We all do. Hence our jobs.”

“Maybe I just do it nicer than you.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Cristina’s lips at that, then she very carefully covered her eyes with the compress again and leaned back. “Everyone does everything nicer than me.”

“True,” Dustin agreed, coming back into the room. “You’re officially off duty, Cris.”

Cristina peeked out from the cold pack to shoot him a look.

“You’re sick. Take the break.”

Cristina sighed. “Go away. Both of you just go away and let me die in peace.”

Dustin lifted her off the counter.

“Hey!”

“If you won’t put yourself to bed, I’ll do it for you.”

“Oh, sure, wait until I’m debilitated before you finally make a move on me.”

He stared down at her, clearly shocked, his glasses slipping down his nose. “You want me to make a move on you?”

She didn’t answer.

“Cristina?”

“There’s a very real possibility I’m going to throw up on you. So if you could stop talking, that would help.”

“And if you could stop trying to tell me what to do when you’re as green as a leaf, that would help.”

She laughed very very softly. “Assertive, too. Who knew? Hey, New Hire?”

Already heading for the door to go clean Cristina’s rig, Brooke glanced over. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

* * *

“A party,” Brooke muttered to herself. She’d showered and was now standing in the center of the bedroom she’d made hers, the first bedroom in her life that she loved without reason.

She had no idea if that was because her grandmother had put silly white-lace curtains over the window, which ruffled prettily in the wind, or if it was the dark cherry antique furniture. Or maybe it was because she’d come here looking for an exterior change of pace and had found an interior change of pace instead.

Because deep inside, she’d settled here. Her heart had engaged, for this town, this house.

For a man…

She stared into the closet. She had only one thing appropriate for a party on the beach, and that was a pretty little halter sundress she’d bought on a whim and had never worn.

With a sigh, she pulled it on, then didn’t look at herself in the mirror. She did not want to change her mind. In that vein, she slipped into a pair of flip-flops and headed directly toward her car before she could come up with a million and one reasons not to go, starting with needing to work on the house and ending with because she was nervous.

Being nervous was not an option.

Not only was she going to go to this party, she was going to go and relax.

Let loose. She needed to remember the concept. She needed to live the concept. She was going to smile and laugh. She was going to let go. And maybe even manage to do so with one wildly sexy Zach Thomas.

If he was still interested.

Please let him still be interested. She drove to the beach, parked and got out of her car, the salty air brushing at her hair, the waves pounding the surf sounding all soft and romantic. Then she glanced over at the man getting out of the truck right next to her and her heart knocked hard into her ribs.

Zach wore board shorts and a T-shirt, his body looking at ease and beach ready. His eyes, though…not so relaxed. Nope. As she watched them lock on her, they were filled with the same hunger and frustration she felt, and she knew.

He was most definitely still interested.

It had been a shitty day all around, Zach thought as he got out of his truck. He’d had another unpleasant phone call with Tommy, who refused to tell him what was happening with the arsons. Then he’d covered for Cristina on three calls and as a result, hadn’t been ready for their monthly inspection, and the chief had chewed him out.

Zach had almost not come tonight.

But now, looking into Brooke’s eyes, he was suddenly glad he had. Very glad. Just taking her in, he felt a visceral reaction clear to his toes. For the first time since he’d met her, she wasn’t dressed for the practicality of their work. No uniform trousers and matching shirt, no steel-toed work boots, no carefully controlled hairdo that said. Back off. The rest of me is wound as tight as my hair.

Not that that look didn’t have some hotness to it.

But tonight she was in a pale blue sundress of some lightweight material that hugged toned limbs and a body that reminded him she was in shape.

Great shape.

She’d left her hair down, the strawberry blond strands falling in soft waves just past her shoulders, lit softly by the moonlight. A few long bangs were swept to one side, curving along her cheek and jaw, emphasizing her face.

A beautiful face.

Looking at him.

Smiling at him, with just a hint of nerves.

And he stood there, a little stunned, because when she smiled for real it lit up her face and her eyes, revealing humor and a sharp intelligence, and…and a sexual awareness that sparked his.

Hell, his had been sparked from the moment he’d first set eyes on her, but once he’d realized she wasn’t going to play, he’d tried like hell to redirect.

She wasn’t going to play. Playing wasn’t her thing. He needed to remember that. He really did. Turning, he headed down the beach. Not to the party, not yet. He needed a moment-

“Zach?”

Alone. He’d needed a moment alone, away from her, to clear his head, where he couldn’t see her looking at him, so sweet and sexy, smiling that smile-

A little breathless, she ran around to the front of him, one hand stopping her loose hair from sliding into her face, the other spread on her dress as if to keep it from blowing up in the wind.

Torn between hoping for a gale-force wind or running away, he stood there instead, rooted to the spot. “You look…”