Into The Flames (Firehouse Fourteen Book 4) (23 page)

Dale pushed through the door, the cool air of the apartment washing over him as the smell of oil paint and turpentine wrapped around him. He took a deep breath then smiled when he realized what he was doing. If anyone had told him eight months ago that he'd come to enjoy those smells, he would have laughed in denial. Just like he would have laughed if anyone had told him he'd come to enjoy his Smurfette's taste in music. Not that he would ever admit that to her. He'd never live it down.

He walked across the living room, pausing as he approached the cloth-covered easel. Temptation grabbed him, its grip tight, and he stepped closer, his hand reaching for the end of the cloth. He wasn't sure why Smurfette suddenly wanted to hide her work from him, not letting him see it until she was finished. Not from embarrassment, he knew that much. But he wasn't sure if he really believed her when she said she wanted him to be surprised by each one. It had become a game of sorts. She'd unveil the completed painting then stand back, her hands twisted in her long skirt and her lower lip pulled between her teeth as she waited, watching as he studied each painting.

Waited as he told her what he saw. A huge smile would spread across her face whenever he was right. Then she'd run across the room and throw herself in his arms and they'd make love.

Dale didn't know if he was actually right all the time, or if she was just appeasing him. And he didn't care.

But he still wanted to peek. One tiny look. She'd never know.

His fingers caught the edge of the sheet, closing over them. One tiny peek—

"Don't even think about it!" Smurfette's voice called from the bedroom. Dale jumped back, dropping the sheet. How had she'd known?

The music stopped and he waited, expecting her to come out of the room. A minute went by but there was still no sign of her so he headed down the hallway, his fingers undoing the buttons of his uniform shirt as he went. He heard a small thud, followed by an odd swishing sound. Dale paused, his head cocked to the side.

"What are you doing back there?"

"Um, nothing."

It didn't sound like nothing. He frowned, listening again. Was that a splash? It almost sounded like one. Maybe she was taking a bath. Images of Smurfette stretched out in the tub played through his mind. Her sleek body would be covered in translucent bubbles, her fiery hair damp with steam, her eyes burning with desire as she waited for him. His fingers fumbled with the buttons, suddenly in a hurry to undo them as he moved closer to their room.

"Lauren called. We're meeting her and Kenny for lunch before we go see Lindsay."

Dale stumbled to a halt, remembering what day it was. Once a month they would meet for lunch then visit Lindsay. The visits had been awkward at first, full of discomfort and distrust as they tried to get to know their sister again. It hadn't been easy, and there were still times when the visits were hard, too full of emotion and bitterness that had developed over the years.

But Lindsay was trying. Really trying. And going to counseling as well. She had changed. They had all changed, the darkness slowly easing, replaced with something lighter, reassuring.

It would take time, they all knew that. But as long as they kept working at it, as long as they didn't give up…

No, he wasn't going to give up. Smurfette wouldn't let him.

He glanced at his watch. Not quite eight thirty yet, plenty of time. They'd had a quiet night at work so he was wide awake, no need for a nap.

Unless he happened to take a quick doze after making love to Smurfette. He grinned and continued down the hallway. There it was, that splashing sound again. And no, it wasn't coming from the bathroom.

"What are you doing back there?"

"Um, nothing. I mean, just playing with some new paint I got."

"New paint? Why are you playing with it in the bedroom—" Dale stumbled to a halt, nearly tripping as he entered the room. His eyes widened as he looked around, taking in the sheets of plastic that covered the bed and floor. Smurfette stood in front of him, her hair a wild mass of fiery curls, her eyes sparkling with laughter and a wide playful smile on her face.

Paint dripped from her gloriously nude body, pooling in a bright blue puddle at her feet.

"It's body paint." She glanced down at herself then looked up at him, her lower lip pulled between her teeth. "Do you like it?"

He watched as a drop of paint rolled across the swell of one full breast to her nipple. It clung to the hard peak, tantalizing, mesmerizing, until finally dropping to the plastic beneath her feet with a small wet plop. He swallowed and dragged his gaze up her body, taking in each delicious inch of her bared curves. He swallowed again, his mind completely blank as the blood moved from his head in an urgent race to reach his cock.

"Do you like it?"

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized she had already asked him that. Realized that she was shifting, moving her arms as if to cover herself. He hurried forward, grabbing her hands to stop her.

"I love it."

She smiled again, wide and beautiful, the sight filling him with peace. "You always call me Smurfette. I thought maybe I could really be one for just a little bit."

Dale laughed then pulled her to him, his mouth crashing against hers. Her hands were fast and efficient, shedding his clothes, smearing his own body with the paint. Cold at first, then growing hotter as they moved together, the plastic smooth and slick beneath their wet bodies.

Later, as they lay in a tangled heap on the plastic, Smurfette raised up on one elbow and smiled down at him. He reached up and tucked the damp hair behind her ear, smiling at the paint smeared over her face.

"You know, some artists actually use this technique to paint."

Dale dropped his hand and frowned. "Uh, what technique?"

She stretched her arm out, indicating their paint-smeared bodies. "This. They strip down and cover themselves in paint, then use their bodies to decorate the canvas."

"Seriously?" No, she was messing with him. She had to be. But one look at her eyes let him know she was being serious. "No. Don't get any ideas."

"But we could do it together. Just think how much fun it would be. And how many colors we could create, how unique it would be. It would open a whole new world of possibilities. Take my art in a whole new direction."

Dale laughed, the sound more like a choke, then reached for her. She gasped, her hands clinging to his slick shoulders as he rolled, tucking her beneath him.

"We can try it. Once. Together. But it'll be just for us. Deal?"

"Deal." Smurfette smiled, her breath escaping in a short gasp as he plunged into her a second time.

As they lost themselves in each other, creating their own masterpiece together.

*****

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DANGEROUS PASSION

Shelby Martin's life is as dry, dull and dusty as the artifacts with which she works, but all that changes when she accepts a dare by her friends: pick up a sexy stranger for one unforgettable night of uncharacteristic passion.

Josh Nichols is a no-nonsense vice cop used to the seedier side of Baltimore. When he's picked up in a bar by Shelby, he realizes the move is out of character for her—and is immediately surprised at the instant chemistry between them. He doesn't count on her disappearing after one hot night—before he gets her full name or even a phone number.

Neither of them had expected to see the other again—or to have their worlds turned upside down when they're thrown together as a result of a crime at Shelby's museum. Can two people from completely different worlds look beyond suspicion and build a relationship from one night of unprecedented passion? Or will those differences pull them apart…especially when there's someone else who wants nothing more than to see Shelby fail?

Turn the page for an exciting sneak peek at
DANGEROUS PASSION
, now available for pre-order.

Shelby looked over at Chrissy and winced at the gleam in her friend's eyes. Coupled with the several shots Chrissy had already slammed back, the look could only mean trouble. Trouble for
Shelby
. Amanda's low groan confirmed her instinct.

But trouble or not, Chrissy's words stirred something to life in Shelby, a flicker of want, a spark of yearning. She didn't
want
to be so consumed by her work that she let everything else—let life—pass her by. But she didn't know to fix that, didn't know how to claw her way out of the dusty, boring existence that had become her life.

Pretending to be someone she wasn't...yes, the temptation was as appealing as a ripe strawberry dipped in dark chocolate.

"Maybe. I mean, it's tempting but...I couldn't do it."

"What?" Amanda's surprised shock was drowned out by Chrissy's sudden excitement as she leaned forward and grabbed Shelby's wrist again.

"Yes you could. Just pretend the last few years never happened. You can do it, I know you can."

Shelby laughed, and even she could tell it sounded forced. She took another sip of the wine then sat back, eyeing Chrissy and ignoring Amanda's muttered warnings. "Okay, I'll try. So what do you want me to do? Match you shot for shot? Go get crazy on the dance floor? Pretend the two of us are a couple so you can get the guys to hit on you?" Shelby was pretty sure she could do any of those things—all she had to do was pretend the last few years had never happened, pretend that she hadn't really changed. The three of them used to do crazy things like that all the time together. It wouldn't be too difficult. At least, she didn't think it would.

But Chrissy was shaking her head with enough energy that strands of her platinum hair flew around her face. She impatiently brushed them away and grabbed Shelby's hand again. "No. You need to do something you've never done before. You need to pick out a guy and go have wild sex with him.
Tonight
."

"What? No. That's crazy."

"That's what you get for encouraging her."

"Amanda, stop. This is exactly what Shelby needs. And yes, Shel, it's crazy. That's the whole point. Look around. There's tons of gorgeous guys here. Just pick one and go. See what happens."

Shelby glanced around the crowded room. Yes, there were tons of guys here tonight. But not a single one stood out. Not a single one remotely struck her with the urge to walk over and strike up a conversation, let alone have a one-night stand with him.

A one-night stand. Oh dear Lord, what was she even thinking? She must really be losing her mind if she was sitting here even thinking about contemplating Chrissy's crazy words. She shook her head and turned back to face her friend.

"I'm sorry Chrissy, but that's not going to happen. I can't. I'm not like you, I can't just go up to some stranger and—"

"Oh my God. Him. You have got to go talk to him."

"Who?" Shelby glanced around, trying to see who had caused the look of feral hunger in Chrissy's eyes. Amanda drew her breath in with a sharp hiss, which made Shelby turn in her seat and look behind her.

And she realized why her two friends were suddenly on high alert. Her own pulse kicked up several notches and she swore her face was heating as well.

The newcomer had just walked through the door, and his presence was already drawing appreciative glances from the female occupants of the room. At first glance, Shelby thought he was tall and broad, but she blinked and realized that had been an illusion. Yes, he was a bit bigger than average, but not like she had first thought. No, it was his presence that made him seem larger than life.

And presence the man possessed. Just over six-feet tall, with broad shoulders, narrow waist, trim hips, and muscular legs. All packed into black leather and faded denim that hugged him in just the right spots. Shelby wanted to run her hands over the denim, to see if the material was as soft as it looked. To feel if his thighs were as hard as they looked.

She blinked again and let her eyes wander back up, pausing for a long second at waist-level before raking higher, appreciating the snug fit of the black polo shirt stretched tight across his chest. She would have loved to see his arms, to see if his biceps were as toned and muscular as she thought they must be, but they were encased in black leather, hidden by the motorcycle jacket he wore.

And Shelby realized that must be why he stood out in the crowd. It wasn't just his presence, an aura of power and authority and strength surrounding him, it was his clothes as well. He was the only one wearing jeans and motorcycle leather in a singles crowd of young professionals outdoing one another in a hapless effort to impress everyone else.

This man looked like he didn't care if he impressed anyone, as if he didn't care if he fit in or not.

Shelby's eyes drifted higher, finally resting on his face, and her pulse quickened even more. The slightest hint of beard shadowed his strong, square jaw; his dark hair was swept back off his face and curled just above the collar of the leather jacket. Coupled with his high cheekbones, he had a classic, rugged face that advertised adventure and screamed danger all at once. But his eyes...from where she sat, they looked dark in color. And intense. He shifted slightly, coming further into the club and surveying everything around him in one long sweep of the room.

Including her.

Shelby's heart paused as their gazes met in the briefest touch. Heat instantly filled her. Heat...and awareness. She swallowed and shifted in her seat, turning away from the searing touch of that all-too-brief look.

"Wow." Amanda turned around and fanned herself, a small grin on her face.

"Oh, yes." Chrissy's murmur was sly, determined. Her eyes remained glued to the newcomer long enough that Shelby had time to finish her wine in several long gulps. Chrissy finally pulled her gaze away and fixed Shelby with a long look. "If you don't talk to him,
I
will. And if I have my way, we won't be talking for long."

Shelby stared at her friend, at her thick blonde hair and toned, voluptuous build, at the confidence that she wore like a cape, and opened her mouth to wish her luck.

And just as quickly, she snapped her mouth closed.

Chrissy, who never hesitated at taking chances.

Chrissy, who saw what she wanted and went after it.

Chrissy, who always had fun.

And Shelby suddenly wished
she
was the one who wasn't afraid to take chances and always have fun.

Chrissy gave her a pointed look, then held her hand up between them, raising her index finger.

One...

Was Shelby willing to take a chance?

Two...

Was Shelby willing to go after something she wanted and have fun?

Three...

Chrissy lowered her hand and shifted, ready to stand up. And Shelby knew if she did, that would be it. Her chance would be over. Chrissy would walk over to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dangerous then walk out the door with him moments later.

Shelby slid out of the chair and stood so fast that she had to grab the back of it to keep it steady. Amanda turned and looked up at her, her brows furrowed in a funny combination of concern and surprise.

"Shelby! What are you doing? Are you insane?"

Insane. Yes, quite possibly. But Chrissy's earlier words came back to her. She
was
just skirting the edges of life. Tonight, she wanted to live.

But she had no idea what to do. Her grip tightened on the seat back and she looked quickly at Chrissy, silently asking for advice.

"Just go over and offer to buy him a drink. Flirt a little. See what kind of vibe you get from him."

"Chrissy, don't tell her that! He could be dangerous. He
looks
dangerous!"

"So she can trust her instincts. It's just a drink, for crying out loud. She doesn't
have
to leave with him." She turned back to face Shelby, raising her glass in a mock toast. "Just talk to him, see what happens. Follow your gut and do what feels right."

Do what feels right. Shelby nodded. She could do that. She glanced down at the empty wine glass and suddenly wished it was full. But then she realized she could order another one.

At the bar.

When she offered to buy the stranger a drink.

Shelby nodded and straightened, then took a deep breath and turned away from her friends.

To walk head-first into an exciting new chance. Into unknown passion.

*****