Jill Shalvis - Flashpoint

But he did glance at her.

Plenty.

And she glanced back. She appeared to hold up under pressure extremely well; even when everyone else looked hot, sweaty and irritated, she never did. Look sweaty and irritated, that is.

Hot? That she most definitely looked.

It’d been a long time since he’d flirted so slowly with a woman like this, over days, mostly without words. A very long time, and he’d forgotten how arousing it could be. He figured if they had to pass each other one more time without taking it to the next step-and he had plenty of ideas on what that next step should be, all involving touching and stripping and nakedness, lots of nakedness-they’d both go up in flames.

One late afternoon a week and a half into Brooke’s employment, he headed toward her to see about that whole thing, but of course, the bell rang.

It was a kitchen fire, with a man down. Zach and Aidan were first on scene, with Dustin and Brooke pulling in right behind them in front of a small house that sat on a high bluff overlooking the ocean. By the time they got inside, the fire had been extinguished by the supposedly downed man himself, who was breathing like a lunatic and looked to be in the throes of a panic attack. Zach and Aidan checked to make sure the doused fire couldn’t flare up and then began mop-up while Dustin tried to get the guy to sit, but he wasn’t having it.

“No.” Chest heaving, covered in soot, he pointed at Brooke. “I want her. The chick paramedic.”

Everyone looked at Brooke. For some reason, she looked at Zach. He wanted to think it was because they’d been looking at each other silently for days, building an odd sense of anticipation for…something, but probably it was simply that he’d been the first person she’d met here.

“I’m an EMT,” she told the victim. “Not a paramedic.”

“I don’t care.” The guy was gasping for air, clutching at his chest. “It’s you or nothing.”

* * *

Her or nothing. Brooke could honestly say that she’d never heard that sentence before, at least directed at her. She looked at the crew around her, all of whom were looking at her, perfectly willing and accepting of her taking over.

And in that moment, she knew. They might tease her and call her New Hire, but the truth was, they treated her as a part of their team, a capable, smart part of their team, and she appreciated that. “What’s your name?”

“Carl.”

“Okay, Carl. Let’s sit.”

“I’m better standing. Listen, I was just cooking eggs, but then the pan caught fire.”

“It’s okay,” Brooke assured him. “The fire’s out now. Let’s worry about you.”

“I have a problem.”

Yes, he did. He was pale, clammy and sweating profusely. “Let’s work on that problem.”

“It’s, uh, a big one. It won’t go away.” Still breathing heavy, the guy looked down at his fly. “If you know what I mean.”

Everyone stopped working on the kitchen mop-up and looked at the guy’s zipper, and Brooke did the same.

He was erect.

She glanced at the guys. Dustin pushed up his glasses. Aidan busied himself with the cleanup. Zach rubbed his jaw and met Brooke’s gaze, his own saying that he’d seen it all, but not this.

Carl shoved his fingers through his hair, still trying to catch his breath. “See, I was supposed to have this hot date last night, but Mr. Winky wasn’t working. So I took a vitamin V.”

“Vitamin V?” Brooke pulled out a chair and firmly but gently pressed him into it. “What’s vitamin V?”

“Viagra.”

Brooke processed that information while Carl stared down at his lap with a mixture of pride and bafflement. “It worked, too. A little too well.”

“Okay.” Brooke opened her bag and began to check his vitals, carefully not looking at the guy’s zipper again.

“So…can you fix this? I’ve never had a twelve-hour case of blue balls before. Could it…kill me?”

“No one’s dying today.” Behind her, Dustin was checking in with the hospital, as was protocol. From the victim she took the basics: name, age, weight, etc. Dustin set down his radio and turned to her. “We have a few questions.”

“Not you,” Carl said, shaking his head. “Her.”

“Right.” Dustin wrote something down and pushed the piece of paper toward Brooke. It was the questions the E.R. doctor wanted answered. She paused, tucking a nonexistent stray piece of hair behind her ear while she tried to figure out how to do this and keep Carl’s dignity, not to mention her own. “Carl? How many Viagras did you take?”

“Oh. Um.” He looked away, catching Aidan’s and Zach’s eye. “Just the one.”

Brooke gave him a long look. She was not a pushover, not even close. “One?”

“Okay, two.”

“Are you sure?”

Mr. Vitamin V caved. “Four. Okay? I took four. I really wanted to do this.” Still breathing unsteadily, he put his hand on his heart. “Am I going to have a heart attack? Because I feel like I’m having a heart attack.”

Brooke was waiting on Dustin, who was talking to the E.R. about the four pills. “Just hang tight for a second.”

“Hanging tight. Or at least my boys are.” He smiled feebly at his joke. “Do I have to go to the hospital?”

“Finding that out now.” She did her best not to squirm, extremely aware of all the eyes on her, especially Zach’s, as Dustin gave her another piece of paper, which she read. Oh, boy. “Carl, when did you last have sex?”

Carl blinked. “When did I last have sex? Are you kidding me? That’s why I took the pills in the first place!”

Again Brooke accidentally met Zach’s gaze. He was cool, calm, and not showing a thing, but she felt her own face heat. If she had to answer this question, she’d have to admit that she couldn’t even remember. “We need to know when you last ejaculated.”

“Oh.” Carl let out a long breath. “Jesus. Yesterday. In the shower.”

Nodding, she made the note.

“Twice.”

Brooke dropped her pen.

“That’s normal, right?” He looked at Aidan, Dustin and then Zach for affirmation. “Back me up here, guys. It’s just what we do, right?”

Aidan got really busy, fast.

Dustin scribbled on his notepad.

Zach just raised a brow.

“Damn it!” Carl slapped his hands on the table. “Don’t you guys leave me out here hanging alone! Tell her.”

Dustin sighed, then after a hesitation, nodded.

Aidan, too.

Brooke looked at Zach, who met her gaze evenly, not looking away, neither embarrassed nor self-conscious as he nodded, as well.

Carl was waiting for her next question, but she couldn’t stop staring at Zach, couldn’t stop picturing him-

Oh, perfect. And here came the blush.

Dustin nudged her and she jumped, jerking her gaze off Zach.

“Really, it’s what guys do,” Carl was still saying.

It was what guys did.

Drive her crazy.

They made the decision to transport, and while loading the patient in the small kitchen, Brooke bumped into Zach. She looked into his face, feeling hers heat, watching him smile as if he knew what she was thinking.

It’s what guys do… She moved past him but their arms touched, and damn if she didn’t feel her stomach quiver. Because their arms touched. How ridiculous was that? If he ever touched her in a sexual way, she’d probably come before he even got her clothes off.

“You okay?” he murmured. “You’re looking at me funny.”

“Me?” Her voice was as high as Mickey Mouse. “No. Not at all.” I was looking at you like I wanted to gobble you up for my next meal, that’s all.

He cocked his head and studied her a moment. “Sure?”

“Sure.” Liar, liar…

“Hey, new hire seven,” Cristina said several days later, the next time she saw Brooke. “Any more Viagra calls?”

Brooke looked over as Firefighter Barbie entered the fire station living room grinning from ear to ear. “Brooke. My name is Brooke.”

“So. You ever have a patient with a perma-boner before?”

“No. That was a new one,” Brooke admitted.

“At least you didn’t have to climb a tree to get to him, huh?”

“At least he was human.”

Cristina laughed and walked past Blake, who was on the computer, and affectionately rumpled his hair. “You get the message that your sister called?”

“Yep, thanks.”

“Kenzie sounds good. I saw her on Entertainment Tonight last night, she was being interviewed about being nominated for a daytime Emmy for her soap.”

“I taped it.”

“We still all having dinner tonight, right?”

“Yep.”

Brooke knew that they did that a lot, got together. All of them. They’d asked her to join them weeks ago, on her first night, but she had been anxious to get started packing up her grandma’s house. Now that she’d been doing that for two weeks, she’d love to be included, but didn’t know how to ask.

A lifelong problem-not knowing how to belong. But for the first time in her life, she wanted to. She didn’t know if it was her grandmother’s house with all that family history, or the way she yearned and burned for Zach at night, or just wanting more for herself from life, but she wanted to be a part of this team. A part of their family. At least for the month she had left. Then, when she did go, she’d have these memories. She’d have her own history to look back on and remember.

Cristina leaned over Blake’s shoulder. “Got anything good today, Eeyore?”

Blake pulled open a drawer and held out a candy bar. “Careful,” he warned. “I rigged it. The person who eats that is going to turn sweet.”

“Not a chance.”

With a sigh, Blake went back to the computer.

Brooke headed into the garage to restock their rig as end-of-shift protocol dictated. And then, blessedly, she was off the clock. Stepping outside, she was immediately hit by a sucker punch to the low belly area-not by the hot, salty summer air, but by good old-fashioned lust.

Zach stood on the bumper of the truck, hose in hand, leaning over his rig, squirting down the windows. Stripped to the waist, his skin glistened with a light sweat. She broke into a sweat, too, just from looking at him.

His back was sleek, smooth and sinewy, and improving the already fantastic view was the fact that his pants had slid low enough to once again reveal a strip of BVDs, blue today. His every muscle bunched and unbunched as he moved, hypnotizing her, fusing her to the spot. She didn’t mean to keep staring, she really didn’t, but was unable to help herself as she eyed his sun-streaked hair, his rock-solid and ready-for-action body, all corded bulk honed to a fine edge, topped with so much testosterone she could hardly breathe. He looked like the perennial surfer boy all grown up-and it hit her.

This might be more than a crush.

“If you come help, you can get a better view.”

Oh, for God’s sake. She jerked her gaze off him and pretended to search her purse for her keys while silently berating herself. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Are you kidding? A pretty woman looks at me, and she’s sorry?”

“I wasn’t looking-”

Tossing aside his hose, he lithely hopped down from the rig and came closer, letting out that damn slow, sexy smile of his. “Anal, uptight and a liar?”

“Okay, so I was looking.” She crossed her arms and tried not to look at his chest but it was right in front of her, drawing her eyes. “But I didn’t want to be looking.”

With a soft laugh, he turned the tables, letting his gaze slowly run over her, from her hair to her toes and then back up again, stopping at a few spots that happily leaped to hopeful attention.

“Stop it.” God, was that her voice, all cartoony-light and breathless? “What are you doing?”

“Looking,” he murmured, mocking her. “And I wanted to.”

“Okay, you know what? You need a damn shirt. And I’m going now.”

Leaning back against the rig, he smiled, and damn if it didn’t short-circuit her wires. “Have anything special planned for your days off?” he asked. “Visiting friends, family?”

No. Fantasizing about you… Unacceptable answer. She’d be working on the house. The house that she was beginning to wish was hers in more than name, because being there reminded her of exactly how rootlessly she’d lived her life, and how much she’d like to change that. Going through decades of family history had brought it home for her. It was exhausting, almost gut-wrenching, but also exhilarating.

And honestly? Flirting with Zach was the same.

But no matter what the house represented to her, no matter what someone like Zach could represent to her, she still didn’t know how to get there.

How to belong. “I don’t have either friends or family here.”

“Everyone back East?”

She hated this part. Telling people about herself, getting unwanted sympathy. “My mother’s in Ohio. I’m an only child. And I haven’t made any friends here yet.”