Hot for Fireman (13 page)

Even though he instantly put her on her feet, she clung to him, feeling his arms and shoulders. Katie held tight to her serving tray. It wouldn’t do to hurl shrimp cocktail at the guest of honor.

Someone turned the music up. The partying went into turbo drive. One girl twirled a pair of red pantyhose overhead and let it fly. It landed on Joe the Toe, who tossed it to Stud, who turned bright red and handed it off the Vader. Vader tied it around his head like a bandanna.

Katie had to admit that muscleman Vader was the hit of the party. Carlos came in a close second. Ryan, for some reason, was lying low. As the energy in the room skyrocketed, he looked more and more nervous.

“I don’t know if we should go through with it,” she overheard him tell Bridget.

“You’d better.” She jabbed him with her forefinger. “A deal’s a deal.”

“But look at these girls. I’m not sure it’s safe. I don’t want my guys hurt.”

Katie couldn’t help butting in. “What are you guys talking about?”

“You’re about to see,” said Bridget. “Right, Ryan? You can’t back out now. I promised Meredith the best surprise of her life.”

Ryan sighed, then signaled to the other firemen. In a flash, they abandoned the bottles of vodka and jiggers of Kahlua and disappeared into the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Katie tried to follow Ryan, but Bridget dragged her in the other direction, toward the gyrating girls.

“Come on, let’s get a front-row seat.”

“For what?”

“Listen up, girls!” Bridget turned down the music to get their attention. “The Bachelor Firemen of San Gabriel are about to give us a verrrry special performance in honor of our bride-to-be, Meredith. So hold on to your panties. Make yourselves comfortable. Oh, and you might want to grab some dollar bills.”

A shriek of excitement swept across the room. Everyone seemed to know what was about to happen except Katie. Dollar bills? Were they getting a nice tip together for the guys?

Bridget selected a song on her iPod, then turned the stereo to rock-out level. A familiar bass line throbbed through the bar. Then the guitar joined in, and the Talking Heads sang out, something about getting what you’re after.

The door from the kitchen swung open and Vader strutted through it, followed by the other firemen dancing in a conga line behind him. They wore their firemen’s helmets and big, goofy grins. The women screamed at the top of their lungs. Katie felt a sound coming from her own mouth. She was shrieking like the others, through a huge smile she couldn’t control. They were so damn cute, all of them, cute and muscular and sexy, and God, she wanted to eat them up.

The men danced—fumbled might be more accurate—their way to the end of the bar. But instead of coming around front, they jumped on top of it, one by one, until all five stood gyrating their hips to the sounds of “Burning Down the House.”

“Oh my gawwwd,” Katie heard herself yell, as if possessed. Bridget rushed the bar and stuck a wad of bills in Vader’s waistband. His lip curled up in a hound dog kind of way. On cue, all five men jumped a hundred and eighty degrees so their backsides faced the girls. They swung their hips from side to side, not perfectly synchronized, but close enough so Katie realized with the nonfrenzied part of her brain that they must have practiced this routine.

Which made her love it even more.

What were they doing now?

They did a slow, sexy twist to face frontward again. “Look out below!” Vader yelled.

Oh my God, they were handing off their helmets to the closest girls, who scrambled to grab them. Katie was too mesmerized to move. Then the men put their hands to the bottom edge of their T-shirts and lifted up, up, up in time to the beat of the music. Ryan’s broad, tanned chest was unveiled, inch by tantalizing inch. She couldn’t seem to drag her eyes away from Ryan to check out the other guys.

They did another hundred-and-eighty-degree turn so their backs faced the girls. She stared, hypnotized, at the rippling muscles under Ryan’s taut skin. God, he was absolutely chiseled. Her heart hopped into her throat.

Once again they turned to face their screaming audience. The men crooked their fingers at the girls who held their helmets. A pretty blonde had Ryan’s helmet. With sheer magnetism and a playful smile, he drew her toward him, looking deep into her eyes.

“Warned you,” said Bridget in her ear. Then . . . “Now for the fun part.”

Chapter Thirteen

R
yan took his helmet from the curly-haired girl, who couldn’t seem to stop hyperventilating. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. He put his helmet back on his head and shot a sidelong glance at Joe the Toe next to him. Joe, who most definitely could dance, had lifted a buxom blonde onto the bar next to him. He ground his crotch into hers.

The music shifted to “Bringing the Sexy Back.” He caught Joe’s eye, and gave the nod. Joe lowered the girl to the floor and put his hands to his zipper.

The sound level went up another ten decibels as all five men eased down their black chinos.

Trying his best to synchronize with the others, Ryan scooted his pants down to below his knees, then kicked them out into the crowd. Five pairs of pants went flying through the air and fifty screaming women scrambled after him. Make that forty-nine. Katie looked too shell-shocked to scramble. She seemed to be the only one actually looking at him at the moment. More accurately, looking at his crotch.

She peered at his boxers, an incredulous look spreading across her face. He didn’t blame her. How often did you see five grown men dancing on a bar wearing pink boxer shorts? With words printed on them? She stepped closer, obviously trying to read the writing.

Uh oh, her scrutiny was making him hard. The last thing he wanted was a major boner at eye level to fifty excited women. To distract himself, he looked over at the guys. Stud’s face looked as pink as his boxers, but since he had three women jumping around in front of him, the embarrassment seemed worth it.

Vader kept flexing his biceps and roaring like Tarzan. He did some trick with his stomach muscles that kept the girls riveted. Carlos, surprisingly, kept things low-key. Until he turned around and wiggled his butt, pointing at the writing on his ass. The girls shrieked and crowded around the bar so they could read what it said.

Oops, he’d missed the cue. He spun around so his rear was to the girls. He wiggled in time with Joe the Toe.

“ ‘Meredith plus John,’ that’s what it says,” he heard someone yell. Cheers rose up from the crowd. He smiled. Exactly how they were supposed to react. “What about the front?”

“Turn around, turn around!”

“No, take it off, take it off!”

The chant filled the room. “Take it off, take it off!”

He looked at the other guys. They’d decided to wait until the last minute to determine if they would go all the way. He hadn’t promised Bridget anything more than a fun striptease.

“I’ll kick in an extra thousand dollars if you take it all off,” she’d said. “Just like in the movie.”

He’d seen
The Full Monty
, and he’d put his firemen up against those guys any day. But he’d told Bridget to keep her money. If they went all the way, it would be for the fun of it and if it felt right when the moment came.

Now the moment was here. He cocked his head at the other men. Joe was the first to nod. All down the line, nothing but nods.

He gave a shrug. Full Monty, coming up. He moved to the beat, waiting for the line that was their cue. Something about burning up . . . there it was.

With his left hand, he plucked his helmet off his head and covered his crotch with it. With his right, he pulled down one side of the boxers to reveal one butt cheek.

Shrieks of excitement nearly deafened him.

He switched hands and pulled the other side of his boxers down. He looked down the line to see how the other guys were doing. They were all fighting to keep a straight face as they waggled their bare asses around.

He gave a nod. They all jumped around again, helmets held tight over their dicks, and shimmied like a row of ducks shaking off water. Ryan felt his boxers slide down his legs. When the cloth reached his feet, he extracted one foot, then used the other to lift the boxers into the air and kick them into the crowd.

A sea of hands clawed for the pink underwear. The curly-haired girl, who also happened to be half a head taller than the others, snagged them easily. “I got ’em, I got ’em!”

But no one was paying attention. How could they, when five naked men were dancing to the beat wearing nothing but firemen’s helmets? The girls went crazy, clutching at each other and jumping up and down. In the middle of the crowd, Meredith was laughing so hard, tears were streaming down her cheeks.

Time to wrap things up.

At the line about watching your back, they spun around one more time, bare asses toward the girls. Vader’s helmet tumbled to the bar and bounced off into the crowd. By his smirk, Ryan knew he’d done it on purpose. Ryan kept a tight grip on his own helmet, hoping it covered everything.

As one, the firemen jumped off the bar into the bartender’s domain. Stud led the way through the swinging door into the kitchen.

“Hot damn!” Vader leaned against the stainless steel counter, letting it all hang out. Nothing Ryan hadn’t seen before. Firehouses didn’t keep a lot of secrets.

Still panting from the striptease, Ryan shushed him so he could hear the reaction from the bar. The buzz of shrieks and the last beats of the Justin Timberlake song were punctuated by the sound of girls yelling out the words from the boxers.

“It says ‘Too Hot to Handle’? Oh my God, too cute!”

“Mine says ‘Fire Me Up.’ ”

“Ohh, I want that one! Gimme that one! I get to choose, I’m the bride.”

Stud looked at Ryan. “They’re all different?”

“I couldn’t decide. Yours was ‘Light My Fire.’ ”

“Really?” Stud looked pleased. “Cool. I wish I could keep mine. I bet chicks would dig it.”

Joe the Toe snorted. “I, on the other hand, have no intention of ever again donning a pair of pink underwear featuring the words, ‘Stand Next to My Fire.’ And Meredith and John can keep their names off my big black ass.”

“I thought it was a nice touch,” said Carlos, rummaging through his duffel bag for his other clothes. “My fiancée would have gone nuts over it. I may have to hire you chicos for another performance.”

“Count me in,” said Vader instantly.

“Don’t you want to know what your boxers said?” Ryan asked him. Vader showed no signs of wanting to get dressed. The guy was a freaking exhibitionist.

“ ‘Too Hot to Handle,’ of course.” He clenched his abdominal muscles so they quivered.

“Nope. I made a special one for you. It said ‘Burn Genitals Burn.’ ” Ryan tried to keep a straight face, but Vader’s horrified expression didn’t make it easy.

Vader grabbed his duffel bag and covered his crotch with it. “Damn it, Hoagie, you know I tested negative. I posted the results on Facebook.”

As the other firemen cracked up, Ryan finally winked. “Don’t get your nonexistent panties in a wad. Yours said ‘Feel the Heat.’ ”

“ ‘Feel the Heat.’ I dig it.” Repeating it under his breath, Vader finally started getting dressed. “I might make that my new motto. ‘Vader Brown. Feel the Heat.’ Might be a waste of time to put clothes on. They’re going to rip them off as soon as I get back out there.”

Carlos buttoned his shirt. “I gotta go home, Hoagie, or my girl will kill me.”

“You don’t have to stay. We’re done here. What happens from here on out is your business.” Ryan held up a hand. “Don’t ask, don’t tell. And thanks to you all for a job well done. Best damn strip show in town.”

The men, some still only partly dressed, slapped hands. It was almost, in a weird way, like the shared satisfaction of putting out a fire.

Carlos heaved his duffel over his shoulder and headed for the back door. “Don’t get into too much trouble, dudes. If you do, don’t tell me about it. Don’t want to know. Just don’t want to know.” The door slammed shut.

“I’ll stay for a while, if anyone else is. You guys staying?” Stud looked around anxiously.

“What do you think, squirt? I got two blondes and a redhead with my name on them.” Vader put an arm on Stud’s shoulder and dragged him, still zipping his pants, out the door.

Joe the Toe buttoned his shirt. “If you want that girl, you’d better do some quick talking.”

“What girl? What do you mean?”

“Oxford, remember?” Joe tapped his head. “Besides, I’m a black man in a white man’s world. I see things. You like her.”

Ryan shrugged on his shirt. “There’s fifty knockouts out there. Why waste time with the one who doesn’t want me?”

“Despite my subsequent dismissal of my initial impression, maybe you are as dumb as you look.”

Ryan gave Joe the Toe a hard look. “That’s a lot of big words to hide a half-assed insult in.”

“My apologies. Next time I’ll aim for the entire ass.”

Ryan snorted. “Thanks for the warning.”

“You’re welcome. Here’s another one. That girl wants you so badly she doesn’t know what to do with herself. And you’re right there with her. Why would you go through all these shenanigans if you didn’t feel something for her?”

“Dude. It was a good deed. I wanted to help her out.”

“You’re all heart.” Joe the Toe rapped him on the head. “And perhaps some brains, all evidence to the contrary. Party time.”

Joe dove through the swinging door. The sound of music and laughter came in waves as the door swung back and forth in his wake.

Ryan slowly finished dressing. So Katie liked him, according to Joe. A lot. And according to Joe, he liked her. Of course, he’d already known that. He liked hanging out with her. He wanted to help her out. And on top of all that, he wanted her. In bed.

So what was the problem? Why did all this make him panicky?

Maybe it was the combination. It was one thing to like Katie, to like her a lot. Another to want to sleep with her. Both things together sounded like big trouble.

He’d better clear this up as soon as possible.

With a deep breath, he pushed through the swinging door. A woman hurtled from the top of the bar and flung herself into his arms. He caught her and held her warm softness tight against him. Her legs wrapped around his waist. She licked his neck and ground her sex against his pelvis.

Right away, he got hard. An armful of nice-smelling womanly flesh tended to do that to a guy.

“Hey, I gotta find someone,” he choked, as the woman lifted herself up to rub her breasts in his face. She shook out her long, curly hair, forming a peach liqueur–scented shield around the two of them.

“You just did.” The woman purred in his ear. “Someone hot and willing. My name’s Logan and I’ve been watching you all night long.”

He put his hands under her ass and pulled her tighter against his arousal. Maybe a feminine distraction was the answer to his panicked confusion over Katie. A night with a sexy woman would keep him from overthinking things or getting too involved. Later, he’d explain everything to Katie. With a sense of relief, he nuzzled her neck.

“Nice to meet you, Logan.”

“S
orry, Gidget.”

“Don’t call me that.” Katie whirled away from the sight of Ryan mauling Logan Marquez. She couldn’t bear the way his hands massaged her rear, the way he tilted his head back so she could kiss him. At least Katie assumed it was a kiss. With all that hair in the way, who knew?

“Okay, I take it back. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Katie looked Bridget straight in the eyes, ready to commit a felony if she saw any mockery there.

She saw something even worse. Pity.

“I already told you, I don’t care what Ryan does.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“We’re coworkers, that’s all.”

“Sure.” Bridget’s eyes shone with maddening sympathy. “I’m glad you can see that.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t want my little sister getting her feelings hurt. After all, it was beyond nice of him to get his friends in here to help you out. I want to make sure you don’t think it means anything.”

“What do you mean, anything?” Katie heard her voice falter, and hated it.

“Anything beyond friendship.” Bridget touched her on the shoulder. “But Katie, you do look hot tonight. That kid they call Stud was checking you out. He might be more your speed.”

Katie shoved her hand away. “I’m not looking for a hookup. Mind your own sex life.”

“I think I will. Think I can lure that big guy away from Sophie?” Bridget adjusted the fit of her silver dress over her slim hips. Before she got lost in the throng, she turned back to Katie. “You did good tonight, Katie. I’ll make sure Daddy knows what an outstanding job you’re doing with the bar.”

Katie battled an insane urge to go on a pink candle–throwing, pink balloon–popping rampage. She wanted to rip the speakers out of the wall, throw Bridget’s iPod at her head, and make a bonfire out of every hot-pink pair of boxers she could lay her hands on.

Oooh, bonfire. That would clear this place out quick enough. Of course, with all those firemen on the scene, it would be out in two seconds flat.

The sound of the swinging door caught her attention. She got a glimpse of long curly hair and Ryan’s hands under the girl’s dress before the two of them disappeared into the kitchen.

She caught the knowing glance of the big black guy known as Joe the Toe. He had the same look in his eyes she’d seen in Bridget’s. Why did everyone think she needed their pity?

She raised her chin and spun on her heel. Screw them all. She had a lot of work to do before the night was over. First on the agenda, make sure no orgies broke out at the Hair of the Dog
.

She found the light switch and flicked the overheads on and off several times. No girl wanted to get caught under fluorescent lights, no matter how drunk she was. She yanked the cable from Bridget’s iPod. The sound of speaker static took the place of Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face.”

“The bachelorette party is officially over,” she shouted over the girls’ protests. “Big thanks to San Gabriel’s finest for their special performance. And best wishes to Meredith and John!”

The girls cheered.

“If you want to keep partying, there’s a T.G.I. Friday’s right down the street. And I’m sure Bridget knows all the other good clubs in town.”

“But Katie, we booked the place for the whole night.” Bridget bustled toward her.

“I don’t care. We’re out of bartenders. I still have to clean up. And it’s after midnight.”