Under Fire

“Romantic suspense that has it all: a sizzling firefighter hero, a heroine you’ll love, and a story that crackles and pops with sensuality and action. All I can say is, keep the fire extinguisher handy or risk spontaneous combustion!”

—Linda Castillo, national bestselling author of
Overkill

“A five-alarm read . . . riveting, sensual.”

—Beyond Her Book

“For a poignant and steamy romance with a great dose of suspense, be sure to pick up a copy of
Trial by Fire
. . . as soon as it hits the bookstores!”

—Wild on Books (5 Bookmarks)

“Jo Davis set the trap, baited the hook, and completely reeled me in with
Trial by Fire
. Heady sexual tension, heartwarming romance, and combustible love scenes just added fuel to the fire. . . . Joyfully recommended!”

—Joyfully Reviewed

SIGNET ECLIPSE
Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto,
Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2,
Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124,
Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)
Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park,
New Delhi - 110 017, India
Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632,
New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue,
Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:
80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

First Printing, May 2009

eISBN : 978-1-101-10574-0

SIGNET ECLIPSE and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

http://us.penguingroup.com

For my husband, Paul, my headstrong alpha male with a mushy heart of gold. You are the light of my life, my muse, my hero. We’ve come a long way, baby. May the next eighteen years hold as many wonderful surprises.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

As always, my heartfelt thanks to:

My husband and children, for their steadfast support, and for smiling when I’m on deadline and declaring that ordering pizza for the third time this week is a great idea.

Roberta Brown, my agent, miracle worker, and friend.

Tracy Bernstein, my fabulous editor; Angela Januzzi, my awesome publicist; the art and marketing departments and all of the folks at NAL who work hard behind the scenes. You guys rock.

Tracy Garrett and Suzanne Welsh, the best critique partners and friends a girl could ask for.

The Foxes, without whom I cannot imagine getting through a single day. I’d always wanted a sister, and now I have nine.

Captain Steve Deutsch and the C-shift firefighters, for their wisdom and inspiration.

Note: Any mistakes I’ve made or liberties I’ve taken for story-line purposes are completely my own.

The back end of the SUV filled Zack Knight’s windshield before his exhausted brain jolted to awareness, screaming the belated message to slam on his brakes.

Too late, he jammed his foot hard to the floorboard. Only a split second to realize he wasn’t going to be able to stop on the rain-slickened pavement, for his stomach to plunge to his toes. One heartbeat to curse his stupid mental lapse and recognize the very real irony of a firefighter/ paramedic causing a traffic accident.

A brief, muffled squeal of tires sounded in his ears. His classic 1967 Mustang was low to the ground and built like a sleek silver bullet, and the car hydroplaned right into the tail of the SUV with slightly less force than a shot from a gun.

A loud, sickening crunch of metal, and the bone-jarring impact was over before he could blink. Just like that. One millisecond of inattention. On the job, he’d seen the tragic results often enough.

Fortunately he was alive and seemingly unhurt, if a little dazed and breathless.

Mortification cut through the shock. Good God, he’d just rear-ended someone! “Oh, Jesus.”

Unfastening his seat belt, he glanced behind him to check for oncoming traffic in the left-hand lane, then threw open his door and slid out. Taking a couple of steps, he grimaced in pain. The impact had wrenched his back and neck. Not too bad right now, but by tomorrow he’d be damned sore. Putting aside his discomfort, he limped to the driver’s side of the SUV he hit. The sight that greeted him made his heart lurch. A woman sat behind the wheel, face buried in her hands, expression hidden by long honey brown hair.

“Ma’am?” She didn’t move, so he knocked on the window, his pulse jackhammering. “Ma’am, are you all right?”

Slowly, she lowered her hands, raised her head, turned to peer at him . . . and the world did a funny little flip.

Wow.
The lady had a lovely oval face that would make angels weep. Frigging supermodel drop-dead gorgeous. She opened her door and he stepped back to accommodate her, nervous and embarrassed. On top of everything, he’d never been good at relating to women on any level—pathetic, but true—and now he had to keep from staring like an idiot at the goddess standing in front of him.

A visibly upset, wide-eyed, long-legged goddess wearing black leather pants and high-heeled boots, a snazzy black leather coat, and a fuzzy red sweater underneath. Oh,
wow
.

And, holy shit, those eyes! Golden and dark-edged around her irises, like a jungle cat’s. Exotic. For a brief second, he allowed himself to wonder what it might be like to just throw in the towel and let himself get eaten.

Shaking himself from his stupor, he held out a hand. “God, are you okay? I’m
so
sorry. I—”

“Don’t they
stop
at red lights where you’re from, Forrest Gump?”

Ouch. No doubt she wouldn’t believe the man who’d just plowed into her backside—now,
there
was a double entendre he didn’t need—possessed a so-called genius IQ of 150.

“Like I said, I’m sorry. I’m Zack Knight, and I’m a firefighter and paramedic. Would you sit in your truck and let me check your vitals?” Oh, Christ. He’d like to check a helluva lot more than the lady’s pulse, if the stirring in his poor, neglected groin was any indication.

She laughed, a bold, brassy sound, and plenty jaded. Like life was one big, unfunny joke after another, usually on her. Zack knew the feeling well.

Her smile was breathtaking, wide and full of straight white teeth, dispelling the notion she was the frightened victim he’d first thought. No, this woman was capable of handling anything, and probably had. Twice.

“My vitals. Right. Like you haven’t done enough already? Thanks, sugar lump, but I’ll take my chances. Let’s see the damage.”

She walked to the rear of her SUV, a sporty red Explorer with the bumper and hatch door buckled inward at the bottom, the paint scratched. And wasn’t his insurance agent going to be ecstatic? This ought to do wonders for his premium, which he couldn’t afford in the first place.

Even the Mustang, built in an era when manufacturers didn’t use plastic soda bottles for bumpers, had sustained a mangled grille and buckled hood. Hundreds, if not thousands of dollars down the drain. Zack swayed a little, feeling sick.

Heaving a deep breath, he tugged his wallet from the back pocket of his regulation blue pants and removed one of his cards. He forced himself to meet her amber gaze squarely.

“This has my work and cell phone numbers on it. I’ll call the police so they can make a report, and write my insurance information on the back while we’re waiting. Sound okay?”

She nodded. “Fine.”

“Are you sure you’re all right? I really think you should go get examined.” He ought to do the same, but wouldn’t. He had to get his ass to the station, pronto, before the captain served it to him roasted on a platter.

Her mouth tightened. “Let’s just get on with it, hotshot. It’s colder than a well digger’s butt out here and the rain is getting harder.” Tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear, she started to turn.

Other books

Darker by E L James

Meant for Me by Faith Sullivan

Moonlight Rises (A Dick Moonlight Thriller) by Zandri, Vincent

Sex on Flamingo Beach by Marcia King-Gamble

Bonefish Blues by Steven Becker

Tell Me When It Hurts by Whitehead, Christine

Entice by Ella Frank

Desire for Love (The Club #13) by S.E. Gilchrist

Brawler by K.S Adkins

Dark Fate: The Gathering (The Dark Fate Chronicles Book 1) by Matt Howerter, Jon Reinke