Hot Nights with the Fireman (16 page)

Asshole Brian took another drink. “Just kidding, Moore. Lighten up.” He clapped Jason on the shoulder and then looked down. “Where'd you two meet anyway?”

Jason's pride swelled as his girl remained calm, looked the loser in the eye, and answered.

“Jason is a firefighter. I met him during the campaign.”

“Damn. No shit. Sleeping with the client—Dad'll be interested in that. Is that how you'll make partner?”

Only Valerie's hand squeezing Jason's forearm kept him from taking a swing at Brian.

“I think you should go check your bid on that trip to Fiji,” he said between clenched teeth. “You don't want someone upping your bid.”

“Oh, right. Thanks.” Brian swiveled to walk away. The speed at which he disappeared from view told them Jason's anger and threat had been unmistakable.

“Thank you,” Valerie said quietly.

He turned to her. “Jesus, what an ass. No wonder you wanted me here.” All of a sudden he felt light-years better about the night. If Brian's behavior was par for the course of the kind of guys Valerie had dated in the past, it was no wonder she'd gone diving into blue-collar waters.

She smiled, obviously still worried about Brian's unsubtle insinuation that she'd sleep her way to partner, but she decided to hide it and take advantage of the open bar. “How about that drink? And for the record, Brian's behavior has nothing to do with how much I want you. Which is a lot.”

On those words, she stepped forward to place her drink order, leaving him drooling in her path.

“I'll have the Chenin Blanc,” Valerie said and turned to him.

“Seltzer with lime.”

“It's still early. You can have a beer and still be my designated driver.” The bartender bustled around grabbing glassware and napkins.

“I'm sticking to water tonight. One, I have the early shift tomorrow morning, and two, I need my wits sharp to play in this playground.”

A line creased her forehead. “I didn't mean to drag you someplace that made you uncomfortable.”

He had to fix that perception. He wanted to be with her and that meant fitting in acceptably in her world. “It's not my usual party scene, but I can handle it. Plus, if I get drunk, Brian may be able to provoke me into a fight, which would embarrass you.”

She smiled then sipped her wine. “Let's go see some of the auction items.”

They circled the long tables that surrounded the perimeter of the ballroom. Each table sagged under the weight of items up for auction. More gold glitter posters sectioned off each category, such as sports, housewares, or lifetime experiences.

“Is that a real Andy Warhol painting?” he asked, staring at the signature brightly colored painted labels on canvas.

“Yeah, I think so,” Valerie said.

He goggled. “They consider that
housewares
?”

“Well, it
is
a picture of food labels,” Valerie pointed out. They both laughed and continued circling the room. There were several things he wished he had the money to bid on. Box seats at an NFL game, first-class plane tickets to any destination in the world, or a weekend at a fancy Manhattan hotel. All items he'd love to win. Too bad he could barely afford to be in the room, let alone play.

“Are you going to bid on anything?” he asked Valerie.

“No,” she said, surprising him. “It's all a little rich for my taste. The cost of attending the dinner was all my bank account could take.”

He paused, surprised. “PR gurus don't do so well?” he asked. “Sorry, that was rude, and entirely out of bounds.” Why, then, had her comment about her finances made him happy? Maybe she wasn't quite as out of his league as he'd assumed.

She patted his arm. “No, it's okay. If I were to make partner, I could afford to bid on some of these things, but as an associate, I can only dream. Don't get me wrong,” she said quickly at the doubt she saw in his face. “I do better than most Americans, but other than my friendship with Arianna, I don't normally swing in these circles.”

He reached for her hand, feeling infinitely more comfortable now that she'd admitted she wasn't quite one of these wealthy society broads. “Ari hangs out with these women?”

Val laughed. “Not a chance, but she does have the money to do so if she wanted.”

“No shit? I thought she didn't work.”

“She doesn't. Her father is a big-time financial whiz. Ari lives off her well-padded trust fund.”

“I never would've guessed,” he said, thinking about the wild redhead and whether she'd shown any signs of extreme wealth. He should've known when she'd talked about shopping and restaurants but never a job. “Do you want to fit in here?” he asked. “Is that why you're going for partner?”

“I'm going for partner, because it makes sense in my career,” she answered and started walking. He allowed himself to be tugged toward the center of the room and table number 19 as a three-piece mini orchestra consisting of a violinist, a cellist, and a keyboardist amped up their volume. At the same time, Claire, the woman from earlier, was tapping a microphone on the dais and inviting everyone to take their seats.

He glanced around at the other people at their table, relieved to see the rest looked to be relatively friendly and normal. None of the women had diamonds the size of boulders, and the only jewelry the men wore were plain wedding bands.

There was a face he recognized. “Lance.” He stood and leaned over to shake Lance's hand, happy to see his new friend from the charity golf game. A painfully thin blond woman sat at Lance's side, clutching his arm as if he might disappear if she let go.

Valerie gave Lance a polite kiss on the cheek and nodded at his date. The other people at the table started to introduce themselves. It seemed Lance knew everyone, but everyone else was meeting for the first time. For the next hour, waiters were kept busy bringing plates of food to the table. It was pretty good. He was used to the grub at big events being rubbery and overcooked.

He dug into the food, surprised to find he was actually enjoying himself now that Brian had absented himself from view. Between Valerie and Lance and some of the other guys at the table, the conversation flowed. It seemed he was the only firefighter most of them had ever met, and threw him tons of softball questions. It helped that they seemed genuinely interested and not curious as though being a firefighter was an oddity when the rest of them had nine-to-five desk jobs.

As the evening went on, he relaxed and could see Valerie had relaxed also. He hoped this meant she'd forgotten Brian's vicious words, and that bringing him as her date wasn't going to cause any fallout.

V
alerie leaned back in the passenger seat of her own car and closed her eyes. Jason confidently drove her car quickly on the highway, changing lanes with ease, all to hurry their way back to his apartment. He was as antsy as she was. She could feel it.

It had been a good idea bringing him to the charity event that night. He'd put Brian in his place, and she'd never had more fun at one of these events than she had tonight. There was nothing wrong with her dating someone she'd met through work, and Brian was an asshole to hint otherwise.

Jason had been there to whisper to and talk to, and well, let's face it, admire. He was pure and total eye candy in his suit. Even Lance's uptight date had been ogling Jason, but sneered slightly when Jason had admitted to being a firefighter. What a bitch. She had a strong suspicion Lance had hustled her into a taxi and gone home alone.

She wasn't going home alone. No, she was going home with the most gorgeous guy at the party. Maybe the most gorgeous guy in the city.

“You're drunk.” Jason laughed then took his hand off the wheel for a second to pat her thigh. “But I appreciate the sentiment that I'm the most gorgeous man.”

Had she said that aloud? “I am too drunk. I mean, I'm not. I only had…” She held up her hand, palm side to her face, and lifted a few fingers. “A few glasses of wine.”

“You may have lost count. Hell, those waiters kept coming around to pour more and more wine. I should call my friends at the station and tell them to be on the lookout for drunk drivers tonight.”

“You're funny.” She laughed and hiccupped at the same time. She swung her head slightly, careful to keep it connected with the head support of the seat. “I had fun tonight.”

“Anyone with that much wine in them would have fun.”

“No, I mean I had fun with you.” She tried to sit up, knowing what she had to say was important, but struggling to get the right words out. “I have fun with you. I don't think I've had fun in a long time.”

He gave her a serious look. “I'm glad,” he said quietly.

“No, I'm glad I met you.” She closed her eyes and let the rhythm of the car carry her away. Jason may have thought she was drunk, but it was merely a pleasant tipsiness, the kind where it felt as if you were watching a play of your own life but aware of everything happening. She kept her eyes closed for the rest of the ride. The next thing she knew, they were in front of Jason's building, and he was leaning into the car, to carry her out. She tried to wave him off, but he easily scooped her up, kicking the door shut behind him as they walked into the building.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted tiny kisses on all the exposed skin she could reach. “Mm, you smell good. You taste good, too,” she said, darting her tongue out to lick a tiny swath of his neck.

His chest rumbled against her side as he chuckled. “Val, stop or I'll drop you.”

“No you won't,” she said dreamily. “You're a strong firefighter. A hero. My hero.” She could hear the words pouring like water out of her mouth with no rhyme or reason, but she couldn't seem to stop them. “I want to have sex with you all night long.” She flung her head back, trusting his arms to hold her tight.

“Sounds like a plan,” he said, “but maybe you need to sober up a bit.”

She froze in his arms then wiggled until he caught her intent and set her on her feet. With hands on her hips, she looked up at him. “I'm sober enough. You make me feel drunk. Now take me upstairs and have your wicked way with me.”

He grinned at her and grabbed her hand. “A direct order I can follow. Let's go.”

Only when they got to his bedroom, the room was spinning. Maybe she'd had a teensy more to drink than she'd thought. It had been so long since she'd had more than one glass of wine that she hadn't counted on its effect on her body.

His bed was now looking as good as Cinderella's castle did to a five-year-old.

“Sleep?” he said at her side. When she realized his arm was the only thing holding her up, she nodded.
Oh, bad idea. No more sudden head movements.
She grabbed the overnight bag she'd packed and made a dash for the bathroom. A knock came at the door.

“You okay in there, honey?”

“I'm okay. I need a few minutes.”

“All right, give a shout if you need me.”

She stared into the mirror, seeing two of her. “Oh, boy,” she muttered. If this was drunk, she wasn't going here again. Ever.

Slowly and carefully, she got ready for bed. She exited the bathroom with makeup removed, teeth brushed, flannel pajamas on, and sleep socks rolled to her knees. She wasn't drunk enough that she'd forget that crucial piece of sleepwear. Jason was sitting against his headboard, remote in hand. He glanced up as she gingerly crawled into bed.

“Better?”

She nodded, then froze as her head spun from the movement. “No.”

He laughed. “I'm getting you some aspirin.” He rose and headed for the bathroom. “When was the last time you were drunk?”

“Try never.”

He returned, kneeling at her side with two white capsules and a tall glass of water. “I'll take care of you, baby.”

“Thank you.” That was the last she remembered until the next morning when she woke up as light streamed through a crack in the window shades. Blinking, she rolled her back to the light and caught a glimpse of the clock on the nightstand. Ten in the morning. She hadn't slept this late in a long time. She'd apparently slept off any remnants of all the wine she'd drunk last night, because other than being thirsty, she felt fine. No headache or dizziness. Thank you, Jason, for the Tylenol.

It just went to show she was a lightweight when it came to alcohol, because she was sure she hadn't had more than two glasses or maybe two hundred total last night. It was just that the wait staff kept topping off her glass before she could drain it.

She was now alone in Jason's big bed. There was no sign of Jason. Oh, that's right, he'd mentioned last night he had the early shift this morning. After she blinked again, a piece of paper near the clock came into focus.

Reaching to get it caused her muscles in all sorts of places to scream in protest. Jason had left her alone sexually last night, but she vaguely recalled that they'd slept snuggled in each other's arms. Another stretch brought the paper into her fingers.

She blinked back tears at the short but powerful note and smiled at his sweet offer. Of course it was ridiculous. She and Jason were a new thing. Not ready to move in together. Yet she lay back in Jason's bed with no urge to move or get started on her day. It felt good and right to be here.

A smile kept forming on her lips as she realized she was happy. Happier than she'd been in a long time. Grabbing the remote control, she flipped on the television to a weekend talk show, but didn't really follow along. It was more for the company because she wasn't quite ready to leave Jason's apartment and face the world. It was cozy being up here alone, and she decided to go search for a good book to read while she snuggled in bed.

She climbed out of bed, looking around for something to read. Her dress from last night was nowhere in sight. Hmmm. She went to the closet, and there on the bar was her dress perfectly hung. Jason must have done it. Her last memory of the dress was dropping it in place on the bathroom floor. How sweet of him to know she'd want the new dress taken care of.

The closet was bereft of anything other than clothes, so she headed to the living room. It was pretty Spartan in there. No bookshelves full of books and tchotchkes, no framed photographs of smiling family members.

She went to the low glossy shelving unit holding up his other TV. Leave it to a man to have two nice televisions and almost nothing else. A high school yearbook caught her attention from the second shelf. That was as good a read as anything else. She pulled it out and got comfortable on the couch. From the year stamped on the cover, she guessed it was Jason's senior yearbook. Faded pen and marker notes were scrawled haphazardly all over the front few pages. Thumbing through the pages, she turned to the
M
's and found Jason's face, with an easy grin staring up at her. She smiled at eighteen-year-old Jason, who looked very similar to how he did now. His current body was a little more muscular and his face had appealing signs of weathering, but otherwise, he looked the same.

She thumbed through it some more looking for which activities he'd been part of, but couldn't find anything more than his class photo. She remembered he'd told her he'd been a volunteer firefighter from the age of sixteen. That must have been his big after-school activity. For a boy who hated school, joining after-school activities would've been counterintuitive. He would've wanted to be in the parking lot leaving within moments of the dismissal bell.

It hadn't meant he wasn't well liked, however. The plethora of well wishes and injunctions to keep in touch were marked on every possible blank space of the yearbook. A lot of the handwriting looked feminine. She read some of the messages, but they were the usual teenage stuff, nothing to give her any insight into Jason as a person.

Next to the yearbook was a framed picture of Jason in his formal uniform. He looked so handsome and happy she smiled and actually planted a tiny kiss on the photo before laughing at herself. Look at her, acting like a teenager, snooping through her boyfriend's things and kissing his picture.

“Good lord, get it together, Val,” she said aloud. She headed for the kitchen and a glass of water or juice. Jason's fridge and pantry proved to be as bare bones as the rest of his apartment. He had the leftovers from the dinner they'd cooked on Wednesday, but not much else. She guessed he ate most of his meals at the station or at restaurants. There wasn't much need to have a stocked pantry here. A lot of it would probably spoil before he could get to it.

She ate a quick breakfast, used his shower, and pulled on the clothes she'd packed. Finally, she grabbed her purse and prepared to head for home. She had a long day of packing ahead. Her apartment was finally clean of mold from the water leak and repainted. Jason would be over early the next morning to help her load up his truck and move her back.

The next morning, she zipped up another bag and debated dragging it down the stairs. There seemed no point when she'd have a strong fireman coming any minute to carry her things. But she was no helpless ninny. Huffing and heaving, she dragged the bag to the front hall. Two other bags followed. What had she been thinking moving her whole wardrobe to her parents' house for the two weeks that had stretched into more? The building manager definitely owed her serious money off her rent. Tonight Jason would get to sleep at
her
place. In her sheets.

She glanced at her phone. It was eight thirty. Jason would be there any minute. Nine o'clock rolled around, but no worries. She assumed he was at his apartment showering after a long shift. Ten o'clock found her on the couch in the living room with the local news on, cell phone in hand. He hadn't responded to the text or the phone call she'd allowed herself to make at 10:01.

She checked the Twitter account for the local fire department in the off chance they'd updated it with news of a major event that would delay Jason. According to the feed, there was a house fire in the county. Units had been en route two hours previously. The time when Jason was supposed to get off shift and come to her.

She dialed Jason's number again, holding her breath while she waited for his deep voice to answer. Straight to voice mail.

For a long minute, she forgot how to breathe, and clenched her phone in a shaking hand. This was what it meant to be with a fireman, but perhaps she was being melodramatic. This was Jason's
job
, and he was well trained and cautious. She needed to get her fear under control.

Plus, he was fighting a fire. It wasn't as if he could hold a hose and talk on the phone at the same time. Another tiny sprinkle of fear ate at her, but she pushed it back. He didn't owe her an hourly phone call.

“Hi, Dad,” she said, looking up from her phone at the noise in the kitchen. Her dad was in the kitchen, pouring a glass of juice. He was in a navy suit with his tie unknotted around his neck. “You look pretty spiffy for a Sunday. Where are you headed?” she asked.

“Judy got us tickets to a matinee at the Kennedy Center. We're meeting the Weinsteins after.”

She'd debated telling him that Jason was late helping her move, but then Dad would cancel their plans and she'd feel guilty. “Have fun.” She stood to head up to her room.

“What time is Jason coming to help you move?” her father asked before she left the room.

She spun back, knowing she'd gotten off light to only get asked about moving. Dad had to be dying to ask more about Jason. After all, she hadn't slept at home Friday night. Nor had they had a heart to heart about her new relationship. She knew Judy had told him to back off, but there was only so much a father could take.

“He's running a little late. I think they got a call, but he should be here soon.” With effort, she kept her tone light and easy. No need to add her father's worry to her own.

“All right. If you need more help, let me know.”

“Will do.” She took a step to leave.

“Love you, Valley girl,” came his voice from the kitchen as her foot hit the first stair.

“Love you, too, Daddy.”

She hurried up to her room, trying to decide what to do. She could move herself and catch up with Jason later. Or she could hang out here and catch up on any number of shows she hadn't seen since their first season. Maybe she'd try Jason one more time.