Sex and the Single Fireman: A Bachelor Firemen Novel (9 page)

She stopped running and leaned over, panting, hands on knees. “Max . . .” She fought for breath. “Did you know the only playground I ever saw, before I moved here, was part of a movie set?”

“So? Playgrounds. Dime a dozen.”

“Did you know I threw up before every single shoot? Did you know I had nightmares about missing lines and forgetting my pants on national TV?”

He snorted. “CBS would never have gone for that.”

“All I ever wanted was a normal life. Scratch that. All I ever wanted was
my
life. The right to do what I wanted instead of what I didn’t want, day after day after day. If you had any conscience at all, you’d leave me the hell alone.”

Max lifted his Ralph Lauren sunglasses. “Munchkin, don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

“Right. Conscience is a dirty word to you. But I’m not a kid anymore. And I won’t be threatened or blackmailed.”

“No one’s talking blackmail. Be reasonable, Sabina.”

“Be a man, Max. Stop doing my mother’s dirty work for her.” Between her oxygen deficit and her fury, her whole body was shaking. “If Annabelle wants me that badly, she should stop hiding behind a Hollywood weasel in an overpriced Mercedes.”

She’d gone too far. She knew it even as she rode the high of her rage. Max, his lips white at the edges, flipped his sunglasses over his eyes and floored his accelerator. He screeched around in a tight turn, spewing a cloud of exhaust in her direction. She covered her mouth to keep from breathing it in and watched the Mercedes disappear down the street.

Uh oh.

She thought uneasily about the video Max had referred to—her one brief error in judgment after she’d signed all her money over to her mother and was floundering around like a lost puppy. But Max wouldn’t sink that low, would he?

Chapter Ten

O
minous silence reigned over the rest of Sabina’s time off. Max left town, presumably to pick up Annabelle. Sabina didn’t hear a word from either of them, even though every ring of her cell phone made her jump. Vader kept calling, but she didn’t have time for his homophobia phobia, so she didn’t answer.

She dropped in at La Piaggia once, checking very cautiously to make sure no irresistibly sexy training officers were on the premises. Anu hadn’t seen Roman since that first night. She offered her a plate of samosas and a dire glare.

“It’s all your fault. He’s afraid of you,” she accused Sabina.

“Glad to hear it. Maybe he’ll lighten up on the drills.”

“This is no joking matter. I had a genuinely brilliant cook in my kitchen for one brief, shining moment and now I’ll never see him again. You never even tasted that sauce. And by the way, did you know this restaurant is named for a beach?”

“Well, yes. I thought it was intentional.”

“I asked my parents, but they no longer remember why they chose that name. I’m pretty sure they’ll soon forget it’s an Italian restaurant altogether.”

Sabina dipped a samosa in a spicy mint chutney. “So what was the sauce like?”

“Sensational and sensual. You cannot even imagine. His son was right. I nearly considered divorcing Pradeep and marrying that fireman. But my poor parents would never recover from the shame.”

“Maybe they’ll forget you’re married.”

“One can always hope. Besides, I have him earmarked for someone else.” She winked one bright eye.

“Oh no.” Sabina dropped the last samosa back on the plate and backed away as if from a cobra about to strike. “Keep your crazy Indian matchmaking skills to yourself.”

“Me? I don’t need to do a thing. Just do me one favor. When he’s your husband, will you allow him to cook here, say, once a week? Friday nights would be best.”

Sabina fled to the tune of Anu’s delighted laughter.

She’d checked in with Carly a couple times since the disastrous practice, but could extract no explanation for the strange incident. The coach was just as mystified as everyone else. But he was determined to keep them both on the team as long as they behaved themselves.

“Why should I quit the team because of some new kid?” Carly shouted into the phone when Sabina informed her of the coach’s decision.

“Coach won’t tolerate any misbehavior.”

“Tell him, not me.”

Between one thing and another, it was a relief to start her next shift. Never mind all the issues with Roman—she could handle that. She could handle anything as long as she had San Gabriel Fire Station 1 and the guys.

During lineup, she ignored Vader’s wounded sidelong looks. “Cherie still won’t bone me,” he hissed at her as they broke off for proficiency exercises. “And you’re not helping. These blue balls have your name all over them.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“And uncomfortable.” He sulked as they filtered into the apparatus bay. “You said you’d help me.” Sabina ignored him, clasped her hands behind her back, and watched as Roman took Ace, the ridiculously good-looking blond surfer-boy rookie, through his paces on the breathing apparatus.

The kid was practically shaking as he gave a breakdown on the apparatus, then explained to the assembled veterans how buddy breathing worked. Sabina remembered that deer-in-the-headlights feeling—multiplied by ten in her case, knowing that female firefighters had an extra burden to prove themselves. Thanks to her TV training, she’d never lost her cool. She’d gained a lot of respect that way, and supposed she ought to thank Annabelle, though her mother didn’t even know about her new career. They’d stopped talking after one last epic battle in which an enraged Annabelle started counting the “woman-hours” she’d put into raising Sabina. “And now you want to walk away whenever you please? You owe me. You owe the show!” Maybe that’s what had bothered Sabina the most—the fact that Annabelle cared more about the show. Shortly after her mother had cut off communication, Sabina had signed over her earnings so she couldn’t possibly owe her mother anything.

Ace stumbled his way through the exercise, with Roman offering only a few corrections. When he was done, Psycho shouted, “Hey Acie, this your first time breaking down the breather?”

Ace swallowed and nodded proudly.

“It’s a first! Ice cream for the crew.”

Cheers erupted, and even Roman displayed a grim little smile. “Don’t mess with tradition.”

Just then the long tone that signaled a fire call sounded. “Reported structure fire at 1500 South Mall Plaza. Task Force 1, Task Force 2, Engine 4, Engine 5, and Battalion 1 respond to the reported structure fire at 1500 South Mall Plaza. Incident number 306, time of alarm 10:32.”

Everyone hurried to don turnout gear. Roman climbed into Engine 1 ahead of her, taking a spot in the backseat. The top of his helmet nearly brushed the roof of the engine. She put on her headphones.

“Training opportunity,” said Roman. “I’ll be taking notes, guys.”

Wonderful. Sabina tried to ignore his imposing presence, but her position, squished between him and Vader, made it impossible. Actually, it would have been impossible if he’d been across a room behind a glass wall. The man could not be ignored.

Double D, the engineer, punched the address into the GPS as the big door of the apparatus bay lifted. Sabina rolled her eyes. Everyone knew where the mall was, but Double D loved that GPS. He turned the sirens on and they zoomed out of the bay into the street.

Vader looked as nervous as she felt. So did Double D. Even Captain Kelly looked tense. For the first time, Chief Roman would be working a fire alongside them, watching their every move.

When they screeched to a halt outside the mall, they saw a small crowd outside the double door of the entrance. It didn’t look like an emergency was in the works. People lounged against the concrete retaining walls, a few people were smoking cigarettes, a couple of kids were playing with skateboards. On the tactical channel, someone said, “False alarm? Kids playing a prank, maybe.”

What an anticlimax. Sabina debated donning her face piece but didn’t see the point based on the lack of a fire. But she supposed they had to go through the motions. Roman spotted a security guard and headed off to question him. Sabina forged through the crowd at the door, ignoring a whistle from one of the skateboarders.

Inside the mall, she finally spotted a wisp of smoke. So there actually was a fire. Luckily, the wide, echoing central corridor of the mall was already emptied of people. Either it was a slow day or the security guards had already evacuated everyone. She sniffed, picking up a very odd scent.

She spoke into her mic. “Visual confirmation of the structure fire. Unable to identify the smell, but the smoke appears yellow.”

“The smell?” Roman’s deep voice rattled her helmet. “Where’s your face piece?”

Holy Mother of . . . She snapped her face piece into place. “It’s on. Now.”

“Jones.” His voice scorched the radio. “You went into the hot zone without your face piece. You’ve been exposed.”

“But . . . there wasn’t a fire . . .” She trailed off, knowing anything she said now would make it worse. She’d let down her guard—and her face piece. What a boneheaded, rookie, idiot move.

“Come on out of there, Jones. Hazmat’s on its way.”

Sabina looked around desperately. Wasn’t there something she could do to fix her horrible mistake? Maybe some recon? “The smoke appears to be coming from Charmed, I’m Sure. It’s a shop on the left, halfway down. It caters to the tween crowd, selling charms for bracelets and such. I appear to be experiencing no ill-effects from ingesting the smoke, no burning throat, no stinging eyes.”

“Anyone still in there?”

“I don’t see anyone. Wait, there’s someone coming out of the shop.” She ran toward a skinny girl with spiked hair and a pierced eyebrow, who was being chased by a billow of smoke the color of a yellowing bruise. When she reached the empty hall, she stumbled to her knees, coughing.

Sabina ran to her side. “Are you all right?” Even though Sabina spoke through her face piece, the girl seemed to understand, and nodded.

“Come on.” Sabina hauled her to her feet and dragged her down the hall. “You have to get out of here.”

Tears streamed down the girl’s face. “I’m
so
going to get fired.”

“Don’t worry about that right now. Can you identify the chemical?”

“I followed the instructions!” the girl wailed. “I swear.”

“What instructions? What were you doing?”

“It was a . . . a . . . I mean, it’s just henna or something . . . maybe sage . . . then I lit a candle for ambience, you know, and it caught on a Glamour Kitty shirt and . . . here.”

She thrust an empty package into Sabina’s gloved hand and ran for it. Sabina paused to scan the package. She squinted at it through her face piece, then gave up and raised it again. What the hell, she’d already been exposed. She was already in trouble.

When she pushed open the entrance door and stepped outside into the clean air, she found herself face-to-face with Chief Roman. He looked even grimmer than usual behind the shield of his face piece.

“Firefighter Jones. What the hell are you doing?”

“You can call off the hazmat team, Chief. She was making a love potion.”

Back at the
station, the firefighters gathered around the TV to watch the local news.

“Check it out, Ella Joy’s talking about the mall fire.”

Roman glanced at the TV, which displayed a graphic reading “The Sunny Side of the News.” An exquisite part-Asian news anchor was speaking.

“San Gabriel firefighters rushed to the South Desert Mall today after receiving reports of an unknown chemical spill. Fears of a potentially deadly hazmat threat fizzled when an employee of Charmed, I’m Sure admitted she’d been brewing a love potion in the back room. The brave firefighters quickly dealt with the situation. The question remains, did the potion actually work?”

The anchor winked as a graphic unfurled beneath her. It read, “The Bachelor Firemen of San Gabriel.”

“Did her love potion magically summon the nation’s most desirable firefighters to the scene? No word yet from Charmed, I’m Sure as to whether they’re planning to brew any bigger batches of the concoction.”

Dio
. Exactly what the fire chief didn’t want.

“Turn that crap off.”

The firemen jumped and someone scrambled for the remote. In the silence that followed, Roman gestured for them to gather around.

“That performance was unacceptable. You’ve gotten lax. You’ve gotten slow. A bunch of probies back in New York could have done better. A hazmat situation is one of the most dangerous any firefighter can encounter. Procedures must be followed to the letter, every single time, no exceptions.”

The crew nodded, though he detected resentment on a few faces.

“We’ll be conducting hazmat drills until you can do them in your sleep. If any of you need a refresher before we start, grab a manual from my office. Firefighter Jones.”

She met his gaze with her chin up.

“I’m going to have to write you up.”

Her lips tightened, but she offered no other reaction. Vader, on the other hand, swung his head from side to side like a prizefighter. “But Chief, it wasn’t a hazmat call. It was a freakin’ love potion.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“You’re going to write her up for a love potion?”

“We didn’t know what it was. It could have been a chemical attack by persons unknown.”

“At the
mall
? What, eighth-graders gone wild?”

“Shut up, Vader,” Sabina snapped. “The chief’s right. I screwed up.” Clearly she didn’t enjoy admitting that. Her turquoise eyes glittered.

Roman dismissed the meeting and headed into his office, where the phone was already ringing.

Chapter Eleven

A
s predicted, Fire Chief Renteria was furious about the Bachelor reference. Roman listened to him rant in stony silence. He refrained from pointing out that while he could control his crew—mostly—he had no say in what the TV reported.

He hung up and ran his fingers through his hair. Charmed, I’m Sure. Love potions. A news channel called the Sunny Side of the News. What sort of place had he landed in?

He cast a glance at Stan, who was snoring. Opening a drawer, he scrabbled for the doggy treats he’d brought in. He knelt down next to Stan and placed one right next to his moist, black nose. It twitched. Then his tongue slurped out and gathered up the treat without opening his eyes.

“You don’t play fair,” Roman told the sleeping dog. “Try another one.”

He offered another treat, this time waving it under his nose. This one seemed to work. Stan’s brown eyes sprang open and he flipped to his feet, his whole body vibrating with joy.

But he ignored the treat, ran right past Roman’s hand of friendship, and shot toward the door.

Roman jumped to his feet. In the doorway, a solidly built, dark-haired man in his thirties was bent over, scratching Stan behind the ears.

“Stan never was much for treats,” the visitor said with a laugh before rising to his feet. “You could offer him a rubber eraser and he’d be just as happy.”

The man was probably a head shorter than Roman and inspired an instant sense of respect. He surveyed Roman with cool, gray eyes.

“And you are?”

“Sorry. Captain Brody. Former resident of this office.” He offered his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you.” Roman strode forward and shook his hand, noticing his powerful grip and level glance. A man to be reckoned with. “I heard you’re over at the new academy now. How’s that going?”

“So far, so good. We have twenty cadets, half of them from some pretty nasty environments. That’s our ultimate mission. We train good firefighters and at the same time try to help some kids who need a little discipline and a purpose in life.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Roman gave Stan a disgusted look. The dog was rubbing his jaw adoringly on Brody’s pants leg. “What can I do for you, Captain?”

He ought to offer the captain a seat, but something told him not to. Maybe it was the reserved, assessing look in the man’s eyes.

“Well . . .” For the first time, Captain Brody looked uncomfortable. “I spent a lot of years at this station and I know the crew here like family.”

“That happens.”

“I’ve been hearing some rumblings. Grumblings, is more like it. I know it’s bound to happen with a new training officer in the mix, but I thought you should know about it.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s a fine line we all walk. Authority versus community. You don’t want to be too much of a hard-liner because then the men won’t follow you.”

“I don’t anticipate any problems in that regard.” Roman had never had trouble getting men to follow him.

“I’m sure you don’t. But that doesn’t mean it’s not coming. For the safety of the station, I felt I should warn you.”

Roman aimed his most authoritative stare at the captain. “Completely unnecessary.”

“I disagree,” Brody answered quietly.

So the man wasn’t easily intimidated. He shouldn’t be too surprised by that. In another situation—if Brody hadn’t stepped way out of line by coming here—they’d probably be friends.

“Not only unnecessary, but unwelcome. I have a job to do here. I’ll do it the way I see fit.”

Captain Brody met him stare for stare. His eyes narrowed to gray slits as he took Roman’s measure. At that moment, Roman would have willingly died before he blinked first. He held his ground. Brody had no call to question his leadership style. And he wasn’t about to allow it.

Finally Captain Brody nodded. “Have it your way.”

“It is what it is.”

“I won’t come here again.”

“That would be best.”

At Brody’s feet, Stan whined. “I can take the dog off your hands, if—”

“The dog stays.”

“All right, then.” Brody gave another brief nod, bent down for a quick scratch of Stan’s ears, then left.

It took several minutes for the tension to leave Roman’s body. Was there some kind of rebellion afoot out there? Was he that harsh in his methods? He didn’t think so. Overall he’d been restrained because these guys didn’t know him. Back in New York, when he’d been a captain, he’d let some real tirades fly. But the guys knew to take it with a grain of salt.

He looked down at Stan, who looked bereft. Realizing he still held the doggy treat in his fist, he knelt down and offered it once again. Stan gave it a halfhearted sniff, then dragged himself back to his corner.

“Fine.” Roman sniffed it himself and made a face. No wonder the dog wouldn’t touch it unless he was asleep. What did they put in these things, anyway? He should try making his own doggy treats—dry some veal or marinate some lamb.

He knew writing up Sabina would make him even less popular. Had he done the wrong thing? Hell no. He could still summon the terror that had shot through him when he realized she was in the hot zone with no face piece. Un-fucking-acceptable.

“Vader, you’re starting
to piss me off. What kind of firefighter would I be if I complained about a perfectly fair notice to improve?”

Vader dribbled the basketball, hammering it like a yo-yo. He’d dragged her to the backyard for some hoops after they’d spent a couple of hours poring over the section of the manual that dealt with hazmat protocol.

He shot the basketball, it bounced off the backboard, and Sabina leaped to catch it.

“It was a
love potion
. You got reprimanded over a love potion.”

“I’m not reprimanded.” A reprimand would be in her file forever. Roman had only given her a notice to improve, which would go away in six months.

“Close enough. The guy’s a prime asshole. I heard Brody came in today to mellow him out and Roman gave him the boot.”

Sabina shot and missed. The ball hit the edge of the backboard and dribbled into the bushes. Sabina fisted her hands on her hips. “Who called Brody, I wonder?”

Vader’s strong jaw twitched the way it always did in uncomfortable situations. “A concerned citizen.”

“Vader, you shouldn’t have done that. Don’t you think we should give the guy a chance?” Why was she defending Roman? He’d shredded them after the mall fiasco, especially her. But for whatever reason, she couldn’t bear to hear Vader talking about him like that.

“We did. He’s a dickhead.”

Psycho, who was doing a hyperactive series of laps around the backyard, dove for the ball and came up balancing it on one finger. “I’m in, Vader.”

“In what?”

“In on whatever we gotta do to take Roman down.”

Sabina marched over to him and snatched the ball from his hands. “You’re both nuts. He’s been here, what, a week? Two weeks? Get over yourselves.” She noticed that Psycho was giving her an odd, wicked look. “What?”

“Nothing.”

His brilliantly blue eyes flicked down to her chest, then back up, so quickly she thought she might have imagined it. A demented smile stole over his face.

“What is wrong with you, Psycho?”

“Oh . . . nothing . . . I’m sweating like a pig here. Think I’ll go take a shower.”

“Fine.” She frowned at him as he turned his back and walked away, whistling a soft tune. It sounded familiar, that song. She was racking her memory, trying to place it, when he slowly raised one arm and pretended to sensuously soap his chest, running his hands across his pectorals as if they were breasts.

Oh my God.

Max had done it. He’d gotten her most mortifying on-screen moment into the hands of a San Gabriel firefighter. Not just any fireman, but Psycho, who had no mercy.

She raced after him. With a flying tackle, she toppled him to the ground. “Where’d you see it? Who else saw it?”

Psycho shook with evil laughter under her. “Who
didn’t
see it?”

Vader ran up next to them. “See what? What are you guys talking about?”

Sabina raged at Psycho. “I’m going to kill you. Strangle you and feed you to Stan. Who has it now?”

“The Sunny Side of the News, for all I know.” Psycho cackled. “Why didn’t you ever tell us you liked to whistle in the shower, Two?” He whistled the tune again, until Sabina squished his face into the grass.

“Whistle in the shower? Everyone likes that, what’s the big deal?”

“
Jones, Vader, Psycho
.” Roman’s harsh voice made them all jump. Sabina rolled off Psycho and scrambled to her feet. It wasn’t really Psycho’s fault anyway. It was Max’s. How could he be so cruel?

“Psycho, if you don’t bring me that video in the next two minutes, you’ll be polishing the pumper for the next two months. Vader, do some push-ups, you’re getting soft.”

Roman sure had Vader’s number. Her muscle-bound best friend instantly dropped to the ground and began pumping up and down.

“Jones, in my office.”

Sabina had to call on every ounce of her rusty acting skills to walk through the station with her head held high. Sidelong glances and a few smirks followed her, but Chief Roman’s commanding presence kept outright snickering from breaking out. Sabina knew her fellow firefighters like brothers. Brothers loved to tease. And this . . . this was even more tease-worthy than Vader’s baby-blue truck.

Roman ushered her into his office and shut the door. She’d spent more time in the captain’s office in the last week than in the previous two years. A sense of utter demoralization swept over her. In one day she’d screwed up at a fire scene and been seen topless by smirking firemen. Everything she’d worked so hard for was falling apart around her.

And all this humiliation was taking place under the gaze of Chief Roman, the most attractive man she’d ever known.

He leaned against his desk, which looked tiny in comparison, and folded his arms over his massive chest. His midnight-black eyes took her in, not unsympathetically. “You know, I heard all the chatter and thought it was about me and my dictatorial ways.”

She felt pink creep up her cheeks. “They’re just getting used to your leadership style. I have no problem getting written up. I made a mistake. A big one.”

She wasn’t sure if she was referring to the mall fire or to her stupid decision at the age of nineteen.

“At any rate, it turned out they were talking about you, not me, and a certain video that was delivered to the station this morning and viewed by a certain portion of the crew.”

Had he seen it? She couldn’t tell from his impassive expression.

“What can you tell me about it?”

“Well . . .” Sabina put on her movie critic voice. “
Zombie Nights IV
is the fourth in the critically panned but commercially successful Zombie Nights series. Some even call it groundbreaking in its depiction of the angst faced by those unfortunate souls turned into zombies.”

Not a trace of amusement crossed his rugged face. “And your role?”

“I played a naïve waitress whose last pre-zombie moments take place in a shower. I shot the scene . . . oh, probably eleven or so years ago.”

He ran one hand through the thick black hair. “The chief isn’t going to like this. If the media gets hold of it, we’re screwed. I can confiscate the video. I can forbid the guys from mentioning it outside the station. But it will be like trying to put water back into a waterfall. The damage is done.”

She licked her dry lips and rubbed her hands, damp from Psycho’s sweat, on her thighs. He was right. She was in for it. Cue umpteen million shower references and renditions of the tune she’d whistled during that brief but everlasting topless scene.

But she didn’t think Max would take it to the media. Complete exposure would destroy all his leverage.

“Do you want to take some time off until this blows over?”

Time off . . . hiding out in her house, curled up in a fetal position, watching talk shows and eating barbecue potato chips . . .

No. She was not going to let a Hollywood jackass derail her career.

Snapping her spine straight, she glared at Roman. “Absolutely not. I can handle the guys. A little teasing won’t kill me. They can blab about it all they want. And the scene’s probably online somewhere anyway. I’ll deal with it.”

Her composure nearly faltered under his long, thoughtful scrutiny. But it was worth it to see grudging respect dawn in his eyes.

“If you need some help—”

“I don’t.”

He nodded, then gave a gesture of dismissal. At the door, she turned.

“But . . . um . . . thank you. I do appreciate it.”

A nod of acknowledgment.

“And just so you know, it was only that one time, and you don’t really see anything, no nipp—” She snapped her mouth shut, knowing she’d turned bright red.

He’d seen her nipples, after all. And he was remembering them right this second—she could see it in his eyes. “No need to explain anything to me, Jones.”

“Right.” She wheeled toward the door again, then hesitated, bracing herself. On the other side of that door lay endless teasing and mortification.

But for once, luck was with her. A loud tone rang throughout the station as the dispatcher announced a structure fire. To Sabina, it might as well have been the voice of an angel.

Roman left the
station in a terrible mood the next morning. He’d never forget the look on Sabina’s face when she fled his office. And even though he’d confiscated the video, it was a pointless move.
Zombie Nights IV
was available in any video store. And Sabina was right, the shower scene was probably viewable online somewhere.

Worst of all, as soon as he’d caught a glimpse of that shower scene—Sabina’s sleek, wet, naked back, her pretty profile when she turned her head, the way her nose perked up at the very end—memories of that night in Reno came flooding back.

He needed to unwind. Forget about the station. Forget about everything.

“Lukey, you feel like crappy Italian food tonight?” he asked when Luke slid into the passenger seat of the Jeep. Picking Luke up at school was one of his favorite things to do when he was off shift.