Hot Nights with the Fireman (2 page)

“Thank you.” She realized she now knew his name, and she needed to start calling him Jason and stop thinking about him as sexy McFirefighter if she were going to be leading the class. Clearing her throat, she took her position front and center again and smiled around the room. “Since we're going to be spending some time together, let's get to know each other. Why don't you each stand, say your name, and feel free to share any ideas you have about going out into the community.” She looked to the person in the front row corner seat. “Why don't you start?”

One by one the firefighters stood, introduced themselves, but mostly they were silent on media ideas. Just as well—that's why they were paying her the big money.

They didn't go row to row as she would've expected, but they spaced themselves front to back by aisle. Only some of them seemed invested in the project and what she had to offer. One guy even said he was here for the overtime pay. Firefighter Dan stood with a cocky grin and said, “You know my name is Dan, and my idea is that we go to dinner, you know, get out in the community.”

The class staved off its laughter, waiting to see her reaction. She purposely held any reaction and simply told Dan, “Good luck in your endeavors, but I won't date a client, and you are all effectively my clients.” Then the room erupted, but the mocking was pointed at Dan, who'd been firmly shut down. She could feel Rob's admiring gaze on her. She didn't know why he was surprised, she was the next in line to make partner at the firm, she clearly needed to have some skills handling a room full of people, and on their worst day, this group of firefighters didn't hold a candle to a room of hungry-for-a-story journalists.

Finally they reached the seat with Jason, the dark-haired firefighter. His last name was Moore. Jason Moore. Her heart pounded as she listened to him say he'd volunteered to be part of the PR campaign. It was hard to hear anything over the buzzing in her ear and from smiling and nodding so much at him. What was with her? She'd seen handsome men before. Jason looked as though he'd jumped off the TV screen from a home remodeling show with a face that was chiseled but not pretty. He was all man with biceps that burst their way out from his constricting navy T-shirt and a chin that needed a shave.

Her attraction to him was nothing because she was never going to act on it. She didn't date men like him. Mostly, she didn't date, period. Especially not men who made her want to rip off their clothes and get naked.

Jason repeated his introduction. He couldn't tell if the pretty instructor had heard him. She was nodding and smiling. “I'm here because I want to keep my job, and—” He sat down. He'd nearly blurted out he was here because the experience might help boost his résumé when applying for the county's International Search and Rescue Team, but he stopped himself. No one in his squad knew of his goal to try out for the team. They'd wonder why he hadn't before, and he really didn't want to go into his reasons. The crew in his station saw him as a leader. He didn't want to rock the boat by admitting he had a learning disability.

He sat and stared at his blank notebook in front of him and tried not to stare at Valerie, the PR expert. He hadn't been expecting her. No one had. They'd been waiting for an older man in a suit or even the younger dude that was with her. But Valerie was something totally foreign to him. She was around his age. And gorgeous and so cool and collected, she made him want to go change into a shirt with a collar, or at least tuck his T-shirt in.

Her long light brown hair was pulled back into an elegant clip, but it looked like if she released it, it'd be soft and silky, flowing around her shoulders wildly. Her dark tailored pants covered too much skin, but also revealed her shapely ass, which made Jason's hands itch to go touch and feel.

Shit, she'd already clearly explained she didn't date clients, which meant she was off-limits. He could look and admire, but go no further.

When he and his colleagues at the station had gotten in trouble, they'd agreed to do anything to help the county redeem their reputation, even though all of them would've preferred spending the time on other more hands-on practical subjects. However, it had been made clear they had no choice, and now he was almost looking forward to the project thanks to the leader.

She didn't seem to notice or care what the crew thought of her. A cool bubble seemed to surround the air around her, clearly delineating that she was no mere mortal. No one was as calm and collected as she appeared, and in fact, he'd noted her hands had shaken slightly when she'd written her name on the chalkboard. Ms. Wainwright was nervous. Likely for her job she had to give talks all the time, and probably to more important people than a bunch of firefighters. Why then was she nervous around them?

It made him want to tell the rest of the crew to shut up and pay attention, or to go talk to her quietly and reassure her that they were nice people, even Dan in his own special way. But she might interpret his gesture wrong and assume he was hitting on her. Not to say he hadn't sat up and taken notice the second she'd entered the room. If she hadn't put the kibosh on dating her clients, he might've considered making a move.

Just as well, they lived in different worlds. She'd want to go for sushi and have civilized conversation about what happened on Wall Street that day, and he'd want to take her for burgers, or if he were splurging, to go see a baseball game at Nationals Park.

They might attend the same Nationals game, but she'd be in one of the air-conditioned boxes getting served wine from a waiter, and he'd be at the top of the stadium whistling for beer from a vendor. Again with the figurative and literal bubbles separating them. Sheesh, listen to his brain spewing ten-cent vocabulary words like
figurative
. It was as if he'd gone to college or some shit, when his poorly wired brain had barely carried him through high school.

Oh wait, Valerie was back at the front of the room now talking about rules for posting pictures to the Internet and upcoming community events. He tried to concentrate, he really did, but he didn't even have a Facebook page and no plans to get one. Lots of women had begged him to sign up for one, but he didn't see the point. Too much reading. Give him a good old telephone any day.

Instead he daydreamed about the essays he'd have to write for the search and rescue exam. He had so much to say, he could talk someone's ear off for hours, if only they'd let him. But no, the minute the pen got in his hand, his brain froze as if someone had cut the connection between it and his hand.

“Jason.”

He looked up, hearing his name tacked on at the end of a sentence. “I'm sorry. Can you repeat the question?”

Valerie looked faintly annoyed, and he thought it made her sexier, like a dominatrix clad in a pants suit. “Mr. Moore, you realize you're the reason I'm here today. Please try to pay attention.”

“I will. I'm sorry.”

“I was asking you for some ideas of how you could've prevented your situation.”

“Well, uh.” He swiveled to glare at Dan. “For starters, I guess those sorority girls shouldn't have been in our living quarters to begin with. Since they were here to volunteer, we should have stuck them in a public space.”

“Good start,” Valerie said, nodding approvingly. “What else?”

All eyes scanned the chalkboard, where Valerie had scrawled tips. Jason was on the second sentence when hands started going up.

“The person who greeted the visitors at the door should've stated a photography policy,” Rebecca said.

“Excellent. And the photography policy is…”

“Ask permission before taking pictures and get written sign-off before posting them anywhere public,” Rebecca continued.

Jason absorbed that. It was a good idea. As far as he knew, they'd never had a photography policy, but starting one was a damn good idea. Would've saved his ass.

“What about birthday parties?” Tony asked.

Valerie pursed her pink lips in a way that made him think of kissing. “What about them?”

“On weekends, families can host their kid's birthday party in our rec room in exchange for a donation to our station. The kids love to get their picture taken with us in uniform.”

She smiled. “That's lovely, and I think you can use your best judgment there.”

“What about the moms?” Dan joked. “I like taking pictures with the hot moms.”

Valerie ignored his jibes and continued her lecture. Around noon, when Jason's stomach was starting to growl, she wrapped it up with a smile and told them she'd see them all next week, for their next strategy session.

He stood to leave, trying not to be an ass and stare at her as he exited, but to his surprise, she called him over.

“Mr. Moore.”

He turned and stepped toward her. “Call me Jason.”

“All right. Jason, I…” She stopped and flushed, and it was his second glimpse that there was a real person behind her Little Miss Perfect façade. He liked it. “You may or may not know that I've been asked to judge whether you're participating in the PR program to my satisfaction.”

He nearly groaned as her lips formed the word
satisfaction
. God, he'd love to know what it would take to satisfy this woman.

He was also surprised. This was the first he'd heard of her overseeing his efforts. “Oh. I'm on board. Just tell me where to be, and I'll be there waving and smiling.”

A pretty pink color washed over her cheeks. “Good to hear, and I have some ideas on other charitable endeavors that will go a long way in restoring your reputation.”

“I'm a firefighter, not a politician.”

“Of course.” There went that flush again.

“Why don't you stay for lunch with the crew and you can tell us more.” Now what the heck made him ask her to stay for lunch, even if it was in a semiprofessional capacity? Especially since she'd already shut down Dan.

His invitation snapped her professional demeanor back into place. “I can't. I mean, thank you for the invitation, but I have a work lunch to get to. I'll see you next week.” She flushed again and hustled to the door, where her colleague waited for her.

He stared at her tight ass in the perfectly fitted long navy pants then looked away before he was caught drooling over a woman who was clearly off-limits. He didn't know whether to count the seconds to next week's event or find a way to call in sick.

V
al's hands shook on the steering wheel the entire fifteen-minute drive back to her Tysons Corner office in McLean, Virginia. She'd survived her first close encounter not only with firefighters, but in a fire station. She managed to keep her cool on the walk from the parking lot to her office, but the moment she closed her office door behind her, she flung herself in her rolling desk chair and started deep breathing.

Last week when they'd signed the deal with the county for the image repair contract, she'd said yes despite her personal misgivings. She was a team player and on partner track.
Rah rah.
Now that the time had arrived to meet the firefighters and manage the project, the whole scenario was different, especially because of Jason, the firefighter at the center of the scandal.

When she'd taken the lead on this account, she hadn't realized she'd be meeting the man with the naughty smile and the body to die for. It shouldn't have mattered, because she was a professional, he was her client, and he was also a firefighter. He was also the first man in six years to make her want to get a bikini wax and risk baring her body. But Jason was the last person with whom she should seek a relationship. One glimpse at the red fire truck or a man in the uniform stirred up too many bad memories.

She'd already had one bad experience with first responders in her life. She hadn't emerged unscathed from the incident. The phone on her desk rang at that moment, interrupting her maudlin moment.

“Valerie Wainwright's office. Valerie speaking, how may I help you?”

“Did you get me any phone numbers?”

She leaned back in the chair, tucking the receiver closer to her ear as she recognized her best friend, Arianna's voice. “Hey, Ari.”

“Don't ‘Hey, Ari' me. You're back from the fire station?” Val and Ari had met in second grade at a local well-off private school. Val had been a shy second grader, still grieving for her mother, and Arianna had been the wild newcomer to the school who hadn't fit in with her colorful clothes and bright red hair.

“I just got back this minute.”

“And? You did it? You walked in the building?” Arianna knew all about Val's phobias surrounding fire and rescue personnel. That was the benefit of having a friend for nearly twenty years.

“I did it, and it was okay. I only threw up three times.”

“Gross, thanks for the image. Okay, enough about your vomit. Let's talk firemen.”

That's what she loved about Arianna. She'd be a dependable ear if necessary, but mostly she pulled Val from the abyss and made her play.

“Were they gorgeous? Did they walk around shirtless like in a firefighter calendar?” Ari asked.

“Yes, and yes.” She lowered her voice slightly. She was in her private office with doors closed, but better safe than sorry. “I had sex with two of them, but had to get back to the office before I could take on the rest of the team.”

Dead silence on Ari's end. And then came a burst of laughter. It was funny because they both knew how far from the truth it was. Val didn't engage in casual sex. Ever. Her own lingering body image issues from the fire didn't make it easy to literally reveal herself in front of potential lovers.

Val grinned and switched to the headset on her phone. She gave herself thirty minutes to eat lunch at her desk and talk on the phone. She had to multitask.

“What's that noise?” Ari asked. “Are you eating at your desk again?”

“Some of us have to work, you know.”

“I work,” Ari said defensively. “It's very hard looking this good and shopping with Daddy's credit card. Besides, I have a good lead on a place in Georgetown for my gallery.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she responded, biting into her turkey sandwich from the deli on the corner. Arianna had been talking for the past year about opening an art gallery for local artists. Val loved her best friend unconditionally, but she'd believe in Ari's art gallery only when she was sipping champagne at the opening. Arianna was not known for her reliability.

“Tell me more about the firemen,” Ari said. “I bet they were gorgeous. Did you give them my number?”

Val noticed Ari hadn't asked if she'd given her own number out. They both knew the answer. Val hadn't given out her number to a man in a long time. Someday she would again, but never to a firefighter, even if one of them—Jason—made her heart pound a little faster. “They were…very nice, other than one asshole who tried to hit on me. The rest were professional.”

“Bor-ing.”

“Okay, fine. A few were good looking. One in particular. He was the one whose picture was on the Internet.”

“
Was
he cute?” Arianna asked innocently. “I only remember his very fine abs and a tattoo on biceps the circumference of my thighs. Did his face match the body?”

“Yep. I was not disappointed.”

Ari sighed. “You lucky girl. Are you sure you don't need someone to assist you through these tough, hard times with the firefighters, because I know a redhead who could volunteer?”

“I'm sure.”

“Well, if the moment appears, slip him my number. I've never dated a fireman.”

This, Val found surprising. She'd thought Ari had run the gamut of professions in her active dating life, everyone from athletes to street buskers, and—twice—Valerie's dates. Valerie might've been jealous except for the fact that Ari hadn't done a thing to steal their affections except be her natural flirty self. “I'm not going to do that. I already told them I don't date clients. It'd be unprofessional.”

“You don't date, period,” Ari said. “And I mean that in the most loving way possible.”

She took a sip of bottled water before answering. “It's fine. But I'm kind of nervous about this project, because…I think one of the firefighters—the one from the photos—is really hot.” As soon as she'd confessed, she regretted it. She was used to telling Ari everything, but maybe she should've kept this private. Lord knew Ari would read more into it than it was. And sure enough…

“Oh, my God. You think he's hot? I love it.” Her voice rose, high pitched and enthusiastic.

“Stop cheering. Nothing's going to happen, because I'm still not quite ready to get naked in front of a man, especially not with a man who thought it was fun to get naked with sorority girls in his workplace. He's definitely not my type.”

“Hon, that body is anybody's type. You're going to have to sleep with someone sometime. Who better than with a man with six-pack abs?”

“I'm not going to sleep with him, Ari. I said it'd be unprofessional. He's a client. Nothing more.” Emphasis on
nothing
.

“Valerie Wainwright,” Ari said in the kind of tone a parent would use on a naughty child. “The county government is your client, not the firefighter. Right?”

Valerie was about to admit defeat on a technicality when a knock stole her attention. “Oh, someone's knocking at my office door. Gotta go. I'll call you later.”

“We are so not done with this conversation, Val. I'm calling at five on the dot.”

“Good-bye, Ari.” She hung up and looked up as the door to her office swung open. A pale blond head with expensive mirrored sunglasses perched on top poked in followed by the full body of Brian, her new supervisor. Brian was her boss's son and had recently taken a senior position in the firm.

His dad had built his top-tier public relations firm from the ground up straight from college and they were now the go-to operation for anyone in the Metro DC area who needed a little image reimagining. Thanks to the proximity of Congress, there was never a shortage of clients. He'd put all his energy into building his successful firm with little to spare for his family. He'd compensated for his parenting deficiency with money. The spoiled result stepped through her door as if he owned the place, and from his point of view, maybe he did.

“Valerie, what's up?” Brian asked, stepping fully into her office and taking a seat at one of the two chairs angled in front of her desk. He propped his shiny loafers on her desk and settled back to schmooze. His golden hair, styled perfectly with product, shone as did his skin, tan from long hours playing on his boat. Valerie supposed women might find him attractive, if you liked that perfectly coifed metrosexual look. Surprisingly, she usually did, but as of today, her attractions weighed toward more rugged muscular men with dark messy hair.

Unlike Brian, she had a large client list and didn't have hours to chat in between long client lunches at restaurants with white tablecloths. “How can I help you?”

“How did the session at the firehouse go?”

“Fine.”

“I told my dad we have more important clients needing your time. You're too good to be wasted on a bunch of firefighters. I can try to get someone else on the contract.”

Last week she totally would've taken him up on the offer, as she'd spent a week of nights tossing and turning in bed, anticipating having to walk into a fire station. However, having done the first part of the job, she thought she could handle it. “No. I liked it. I'm the best person for the job.” She also wondered about his angle. She didn't buy into his flattery that she was meant for more important clients. The major county government was pretty damn important. Unless the president himself came calling, she was staying put.

Brian pursed his lips and looked dissatisfied that she hadn't jumped at his generosity.

She took a large bite of her sandwich in one hand and fiddled with the mouse with the other. She hoped he'd take the hint she didn't want to talk to him. He was doing his best to integrate himself into the firm, but it was ridiculous he'd been placed at such a senior level with relatively no job experience.

“Have a date for the bennie yet?”

“The what?” she asked.

His feet hit the carpeted floor with a thud, and he leaned forward to swipe a potato chip from the bag on her desk. “The bennie. You know, the benefit. The charity auction honoring my pops.”

“Oh. Uh…” She glanced quickly at him, trying to read the situation. “No, not yet.”

“You dating anyone?”

“Uh.” She stared at her computer screen. Brian was teetering on the line of inappropriate and a tad skeevy, but she didn't know him well enough yet to tell him. “I'm single, but—”

“You should invite someone soon. Give him time to get his tux cleaned and all that.”

“Yeah, I'll do that.” Had he been hinting at asking her? Officially there was no company policy about dating someone from the office, but she hoped Brian would never ask her out. It was way too awkward to either date the boss's son or reject a date with the boss's son.

Brian swiveled in his chair like a six-year-old would. In some ways she felt bad for the guy. He was trying to fit in, but he had no experience, save for an internship in college. She understood his dad's nepotism, but hated that she had to deal with the fallout.

“Oh, Valerie, can you make sure to e-mail me the campaign schedule for the Department of Ed?”

“Already done.”

He flushed slightly, rose, and backed out of her office. “Thanks.”

She bit her lip and stared at her now closed office door. Through the glass door panel of her office she saw Brian high-fiving a hapless older administrative assistant. A sigh escaped. Her office, once her sanctuary, and her job, once the great pleasure of her life, wasn't invigorating her as it had in the past. The highlight of today was her visit to the fire station, which was Exhibit A of how tedious the job had gotten. If she, Valerie Wainwright, scaredy-cat of all things rescue related, saw the firefighters as a good thing, something had to change.

Surely it was desperation and not lust that had her replaying images of Jason Moore the firefighter sitting casually near the front and staring either at his blank notebook or at her. It hadn't escaped her notice that he hadn't written a single note the entire time. She'd also noticed every detail about him from the way his dark hair curled a little over his ears to the size of his feet in sturdy black boots. He was a very good-looking man. Sue her for admiring. It wasn't as if she was going to click over to stare at the e-mail her boss had sent her with the screen shot of Jason's in-the-buff Facebook faux pas.
Weelll
, maybe a quick glance. She quickly opened the e-mail and enlarged the picture on her screen as she'd been doing all week. For work, yep, definitely for work. There he was, grinning a wicked grin for the camera. The picture didn't quite capture his height or sheer presence when he was in the room; now that she'd met him, the picture was a pale imitation. And she could do without the topless sorority girls. Maybe if she clipped the shot of him and pasted it…Wait, what the heck was she doing?

She had work to do, and none of it included
Photoshopping
images of hot firefighters.