Jacquie ’Alessandro - Heating up the Holidays

BRADLEY GRIFFIN closed his locker at the firehouse and breathed a sigh of relief that his stress-filled twenty-four-hour shift was finally over. After picking up his duffel bag, he waved goodbye to the guys polishing the pristine red ladder truck. He hoped their shift would be quieter than his had been, but he doubted it-the Christmas season always proved busy for firefighters.

Fires and emergencies were always difficult, but they just seemed much more so to him at this time of year, when good cheer was supposed to prevail. In his mind’s eye he could still see the soot-and-tear-streaked faces of the family whose house had burned last night. The parents and two young children had made it out alive, thank God, but their home and all their belongings, including the Christmas presents stacked under their tree, were lost, leaving them with nothing except each other. How many times over the last seven years had he seen that same heart-wrenching combination of terror and desolation in people’s eyes? Too many to count. Yet, he still wouldn’t trade jobs with anyone. Wouldn’t trade those moments when a life was saved, a loved one brought back from the brink. That family last night…they’d clung to each other and the fact that they were alive to rebuild. Unfortunately not everyone was so lucky.

He walked toward the open bay doors, the sight of the bright California sunshine a welcome relief after the smoke-blackened dawn sky he’d stood beneath only hours earlier. He pulled in a deep breath, loving the smell of the firehouse-the lemony cleaning fluid the guys used to keep the place spotless, combined with a hint of what he called automotive potpourri, mixed with a whiff of the salty breeze blowing off the ocean. Through the doors he caught sight of the sparkling blue Pacific running onto the sandy beach. Lots of skaters, walkers and joggers already out and about this morning, he noticed. A beautiful sunny day like this always brought the crowds to Ocean Harbor Beach, the laid-back surfing town where he’d lived his entire life. And now that he had forty-eight off, he couldn’t wait to join them. Two days to regroup. To put the pressures of the job behind him. To concentrate on happier things, like Christmas. Which was only a week away. Which meant it was about time he started Christmas shopping.

“Yo, Brad.”

Brad turned at the familiar greeting. His best friend and fellow firefighter Jim Ballard exited the station’s kitchen and loped toward him. Jim had come on duty an hour ago and clearly it was his turn to cook; he carried a spatula and wore an apron that advised in bold print: Firefighters Do It With Heat. Brad sent up a silent prayer of thanks he was off duty. He loved Jim like a brother, but he was the station’s worst cook.

He gave Jim’s black-and-red-stain-splattered apron a skeptical glance. “Soot and…ketchup?” he guessed, hoping it wasn’t blood. “Doesn’t bode well for the morning meal.”

Jim looked down at the apron then shrugged. “Had a little mishap with the huevos rancheros. Nothing a few handfuls of jalapeños won’t fix.”

Brad’s stomach clenched in sympathy for those poor bastards polishing the truck. “What’s up?”

“Been looking for you. Found out something you might find interesting.” Jim lowered his voice. “About Antonia Rizzo.”

Brad’s entire body quickened at the mention of her name, which totally annoyed and confused him-as it had from the first moment he’d seen her three months ago, when her florist shop, Blooming Pails, had opened in Santa Rey, the town just south of Ocean Harbor Beach, famous for its seaside boardwalk. He’d stopped by on opening day, not so much to buy flowers-really he didn’t need any flowers-but more because he was walking right by the store and figured he’d be neighborly. Not to mention score one of the free cannoli set on a huge ceramic tray just inside the door. He’d taken one bite of the delicious, chocolate-chip-and-cream-filled Italian pastry and his eyes had glazed with sheer bliss. In the next instant he’d taken one look at Antonia-or as everyone called her, Toni-Rizzo and forgotten how to swallow. Damn near forgotten how to breathe. Sure as hell forgot how to speak English.

Holy smokin’ cannoli.

His stupefied gaze had tracked over a mass of shiny, dark brown, spiral mess-with-me curls that loosely danced around her shoulders. Her chocolate-brown eyes sparkled as she wrapped a colorful bouquet in green paper and chatted with the customer purchasing the flowers. Her smile…damn, her smile was gorgeous and sexy all at once, her full lips glossy with something dewy-pink and flanked by a pair of shallow dimples. She laughed, a deep, throaty sound, followed by a slightly husky voice that brought to mind hot, sultry nights and tangled sheets.

His gaze had skimmed lower and he knew that as delicious as that cannoli was, it didn’t hold a candle to Antonia Rizzo’s feminine form. Damn. Even her curves had curves. She was striking and vivid and sexy as hell, and everything male in him went on red alert. In the space of a nanosecond he fell totally, irreparably in lust. Which admittedly had happened to him before, but never to this extent. Never to the point where he actually forgot where he was. What he was doing. And what his damn name was.

Once he recalled he was Brad-or Bill-or at least something that started with a B, he approached her. Smiled. Complimented her on her fabulous cannoli. Flirted. She was polite, but didn’t return any of the flirtatious lobs he tossed. He bought a bouquet of flowers, which he immediately gave to her, along with an invitation to dinner. She’d thanked him, handed him back the flowers and broken his heart by saying she was already involved.

Whoever he was, the guy was damn lucky. Brad had departed the shop deflated, unable to shake the feeling that he’d lost out on something really great. He’d never experienced such a strong reaction to a woman, and she was unavailable. What kind of crap was that?

He told himself he was better off, that he wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. Reminded himself of the wringer his last two girlfriends had put him through. Sandy hadn’t been able to deal with the dangerous aspects of his job; what had started out as concern for his safety, which he’d appreciated, had eventually deteriorated into constant nagging to quit the fire department, which he hadn’t appreciated. And then Janna had been Sandy’s complete opposite-she loved everything about the fire department. Unfortunately she loved firefighters a little too much, as Brad learned when he caught her riding a guy from a neighboring town’s hook-and-ladder company like he was the winning horse in the Kentucky Derby. A guy Brad had considered a friend.

Ever since that unappetizing scene four months ago, he’d flown under the radar. He supposed he should have jumped right back into the dating whirlpool, but his heart just hadn’t been in it. He wanted another girlfriend like he wanted a gaping hole in his head. But for reasons he couldn’t figure, even picking up one of the endless smorgasbord of bikini-clad babes who frequented the beach and local bars and engaging in a few hours of mindless, no-strings-attached sex didn’t hold the allure it once had. After Janna he’d indulged a couple of times, but both occasions had left him feeling empty and filled with an unsettling loneliness.

Yet even before his last two breakups, he’d felt the stirrings of this weird discontent, one he finally traced back to last July, when he’d served as best man at Greg and Tanya’s wedding. He’d never seen his older brother so happy. As they’d watched Tanya walk down the aisle, he’d said to Greg, “She’s beautiful.” Greg had nodded. “Best thing that’s ever happened to me.” And Brad had thought it was too bad Tanya didn’t have a sister. Two months later, he’d seen Toni Rizzo and it was as if he’d been hooked up to a nuclear reactor.

Even though she wasn’t available, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He kept comparing his reaction to other women to his reaction to her. And every other woman came up short. It had quickly turned into something of a quest-find a woman who turned him on and attracted him the way she had. He hadn’t succeeded, and because he hadn’t, he’d spent a lot of nights alone in his bed, tossing and turning, frustrated, lonely and wishing like hell he could forget her.

Unable to keep from doing so, he found himself frequently stopping by her shop in the hope that she’d respond to one of his opening conversational gambits, and maybe he’d find her no longer “involved.” No such luck. Toni was unfailingly polite, but her “I’m not interested” vibe never wavered. And after three months of buying flowers and plants he didn’t need, his small ranch house looked downright girly and his mother had received so many bouquets from him, she was convinced he was up to something. Or that she’d contracted some dread disease and he wasn’t telling her.

“What about Toni?” Brad asked, keeping his tone casual.

“Good news and bad news.” Jim grinned. “And you’re gonna owe me.”

“Fine. Good news first.”

“She doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

Whoa. That wasn’t good news-that was freakin’ excellent news.

“Not only that,” Jim continued, “but apparently she hasn’t had one for a while. Like six months.”

Brad’s eyes narrowed. “She told me she was involved.”

“Right. Obviously to blow you off. Which leads to the bad news.”

“Which is…?”

“She doesn’t like firefighters.”

Brad frowned. “What do you mean?”

“She. Doesn’t. Like. Firefighters. What part don’t you get?”

Great. Was she another woman who couldn’t handle the danger his job entailed? As soon as the question entered his mind, something told him the answer was no. Whereas Sandy had turned out to be a needy, clingy sort of woman, Toni struck him as very confident. And far too independent and smart to be unreasonable about a man’s job involving some danger. There had to be another reason. “Why doesn’t she like firefighters?”

“Don’t know.” Jim shrugged. “If I had to guess, I’d say she probably got her heart broken by one, but who knows? Who can figure out women?”

“How do you know all this?”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Because I’m thirty years old and in spite of knowing a lot of them, women are impossible to understand.”

This time Brad rolled his eyes. “I mean, how do you know she doesn’t have a boyfriend or like firefighters?”

“Oh. Bobby T told me,” Jim said, referring to the bartender at Breezes, one of Santa Rey’s most popular beachfront bars. Since Bobby’s last name contained about seventeen letters and was completely unpronounceable, especially after a couple of beers, he was simply Bobby T. “Toni and that gal who works with her went to the bar last night and had one of those long, boring, involved chick chats. Since business was slow, Bobby couldn’t help but overhear bits and pieces. They even drew him into the convo a few times. I saw him this morning before I came on duty and he told me. And now I’m telling you. Figured you’d want to know, especially if you plan to make a move. Once word of this gets out, guys’ll be all over Toni like wet on water.”

A sensation that felt exactly like jealousy rippled through Brad. “Right. Except, in case it’s escaped your notice, I’m a firefighter.”

“Uh-huh.” Jim pointed his spatula at the ladder truck. “Yeah, the big shiny red truck kinda gave it away. But I doubt that’s gonna stop you. You’ve been panting after this woman for three months. Keeping your distance because you thought she was involved. Now you know she’s not.”

“I haven’t been panting,” Brad felt compelled to object. “Breathing heavy, maybe.”

“Panting,” Jim insisted. “Dude, I’ve known you since tenth grade and I’ve never seen you so…I don’t even know the word to describe it, about a woman. Discombobulated. Stupefied. Like a deer in the headlights.” Jim shook his head. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you. I’m thinkin’ this could only lead to trouble.”