Putting Out Old Flames (17 page)

“T
his. Is. Awesome.” Wonder filled the young photography student's voice as she looked at the group of firemen huddled in the corner of the station. She leaned over to Jane. “I almost feel like I should pay you for this.”
This
being taking shots of ten of the station's hottest bachelors. “Almost.”

Jane smiled wryly. The teacher at the community college swore Sammie was his top student and would have no problem providing professional quality head shots for the fundraiser's website. The girl didn't dress to impress, wearing stretchy yoga pants and flip-flops. Hopefully she could make the bachelors look better put together than she did.

Which shouldn't be difficult. Jane turned toward the men who stood joking around with each other as they waited to be photographed. They rippled with muscles, their blue T-shirts, with the Pineville FD logo over their left breast, stretched taut. Every lovely shade of skin was represented, from vanilla to mocha to dark chocolate. Pineville FD was the twenty-one flavors of masculinity. It was enough to give a woman heartburn.

Jane sought her favorite flavor and found Chance near the back of the group. He was nodding his head at something the chief said. When he'd learned that Chief Finnegan was going to be one of the bachelors up for auction, as a show of solidarity, Chance had agreed to be sold off as well. A sacrifice he'd been reminding Jane of for the past two days.

“Okay, guys. Let's get this show going.” She pointed to the photographer. “Sammie has set up a backdrop for the shots and I'll call you forward one at a time. Hopefully we'll be done and out of your hair shortly.”

The chief stepped forward. “Until the next call comes in, we're all yours.”

“Great,” Jane said. “And since you've come forward, why don't you go first.”

Chief Finnegan didn't look thrilled, but moved into place in front of the draped blue sheet, stoic.

Sammie stepped behind her camera. “Okay, I'm not shooting you with a gun, just taking your picture. Try not to look like a martyr.”

He bared his teeth.

“Oookay.” Sammie stepped back. “Imagine I'm a little kid that you're rescuing. You don't want to scare me. Give me the smile you'd give the kid.”

With some more prodding, the chief relaxed, his smile becoming easy. For a man his age, he really was quite good-looking. And definitely fit. With his soft brogue and burly good looks, women were probably lined up to date him, but Jane hadn't heard of any relationships. In a small town like Pineville, that meant he was either very discreet or had been living like a monk.

Jane pursed her lips. It really was a pity he wasn't her mother's type. Her mom deserved a good man in her life.

The chief twisted to the right and back, posing at Sammie's commands. The guys hooted, but kept their trash-talking to a minimum, something Jane was sure had more to do with the power the chief wielded to make them pull KP duty rather than any sense of decorum.

The next firefighter up was in his early twenties. When he got in front of the camera, he whipped his shirt off and flexed his pecs.

Sammie pressed the shutter without aiming, an involuntary reflex, her mouth open wide. “That's . . . wow. I mean, yeah, hold that pose.”

Jane stepped forward amid the catcalls. “Frankie, that's not the look we're going for. We're doing head shots.”

Sammie glared at her. “You wanna make money on your auction? That's the look you want. Trust me.” Before Jane could tell her no, Sammie clicked away, while Frankie preened like a peacock.

Jane rocked back on her heels. The girl was probably right. If that . . .
Holy hell, what sort of muscles in your butt do that?
Jane licked her lip. Yeah, if that didn't get the ladies of Pineville to whip out their checkbooks, nothing would. So she sat back and enjoyed the show. Each young buck tried to outdo the other, one even going so far as to flip into a handstand. Topless, of course.

“Like what you see?”

Jane jumped. Chance stood behind her, arms crossed, face tight.

“Um, no, of course not. They're all hideous.” Her gaze was dragged to a firefighter who'd donned his turnout pants and was snapping the suspenders against his chest. Topless.

Putting a finger under her chin, Chance drew her face back to his. “It's only been two days since we were together and you're already looking at other men. I think I'm insulted.” The edges of his eyes crinkled, telling Jane he was teasing. Mostly.

“Two days is a long time, especially considering you won't be going off shift for another two. A girl's memory can only stretch so far.” She ran a hand over his abdomen, then snatched it back before anyone saw. “I
think
I liked what was under here. But the memories are fading away.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Janey-girl, it sounds like you need a reminder.” Grasping the neck of his shirt, he dragged it up and over his head.

Her breath stuck in her throat. “Crap. I really had forgotten. I'd convinced myself there was no way you could actually look this good.”

“And that's not even the best part.” He pressed his shirt into her hands. “When my shift ends, you'll be getting a refresher course, have no worries.”

Frankie paused, his flirtation with Sammie momentarily forgotten. “Whoo-hoo, look at the new assistant chief. I thought everyone from California was supposed to be tan and fit. What happened to you?”

Jane almost objected. Sure, Chance wasn't as dark as Frankie's natural olive skin tone, but his golden flesh had obviously been kissed by the sun. But it would be stupid to defend him from a little light razzing. That would start the gossip up, and by noon, everyone in Pineville would know she and Chance were sleeping together.

Chance walked to the backdrop, throwing his shoulder into Frankie along the way. “Didn't your mama teach you to respect your elders? Now, step aside and let me show you how it's done.”

That drew a rousing chorus of boos.

Unlike the over-the-top muscleman poses the other firemen had flaunted, Chance stood naturally, hands in his pockets, a panty-melting smile on his face. Topless. A trickle of sweat wended its way down Jane's spine. The rest of the firefighters faded from view.

She didn't like to think of herself as shallow. Looks were fleeting; character was what mattered. Chance turned his body to the side, caught her looking at him, winked. She blew out a shaky breath. But even if Chance had been the devil himself, she didn't know if she could have resisted all that. She hoped she would.

Following Sammie's instructions, Chance crossed his arms across his bare chest, his pecs bunching. Jane bit back a whimper. Nope, she would have been toast.

Sammie thanked him, and Chance swaggered back toward her, his gaze trained on her face, pinning her in place. She shoved his shirt at him. Jane was seconds away from dragging him behind the fire engine. He needed to cover up, stat.

Trying to keep her voice casual, she told him, “I think that photo shoot went well. The auction will be a big hit.”

He whipped the shirt over his head, smoothed it down his flat stomach. Bending close, he said, “Are you going to bid on me?”

She chuckled. Now that he was fully clothed again, the laugh sounded mostly normal. “I'm organizing the auction, not participating in it. That would be too cliché, even for me.” Finding a stray thread on her red sweater, Jane plucked it off, kept her eyes lowered. She found the concept of a bachelor auction embarrassing, and if it hadn't been for the statistics she'd read about top moneymakers for fundraisers, she never would have agreed to the idea. But deep inside, the idea of buying Chance for the evening, marking him as hers, sent a thrill racing through her bones.

She wasn't proud of it, but there it was.

Clearing her throat, she changed the subject. “The bachelor auction needs to raise a lot of money. Judge Nichols was telling me this morning that we're a couple items shy on the silent auction end of the fundraiser. The hot air balloon company that was going to donate a free ride changed their mind, and a couple other items fell through.”

He frowned. “Can't we get replacements?”

“Of course we'll try. But the economy isn't great and businesses have a hard time giving away their goods.” Making her way to the backdrop, she started taking down the draping. “And time is running short.”

Chance reached over her head, unsnapping the fabric from the pipe it hung on. “I'll make the rounds in town, see if I can get something.” He smiled down at her. “Women seem to like firemen wearing their blues. Maybe I'll get lucky.”

Jane narrowed her eyes.

“Getting donations,” he hastily added. He took one edge of the sheet, Jane the other, and they folded the ends together, meeting in the middle. Eyes crinkling at the corners, he said, “Really. Jane, you need to get your mind out of the gutter.”

He was too tall for the noogie she used to give him when they'd first become friends, so she punched him in the arm. “I'm not the one who just put on a striptease.”

His lips brushed her ear. “You can put one on for me anytime.”

“Just grab the lights.” She shook her head and managed to keep the smile off her face.

“Jane.” He shifted on his feet, a floodlight balanced on one shoulder. “What color dress are you wearing to the ball? I, uh, thought I might get a matching pocket square.”

His flushed cheeks would have been adorable if Jane hadn't been so confused. “Why would we go to the ball as a matching couple? I think Leon would feel weird about that.”

“Leon?” He dropped the light with a clang on the cement floor. “What the hell does he have to do with it?”

Jane frowned. “What do you mean, what does he have to do with it? He's my date. He won't want me matching some other guy.”

“You're still going with that moron?” His growl cut through the bay like a chainsaw. Sammie's and Frankie's heads whipped around to stare at them.

Jane pasted a smile on her face. “Sammie, I'm sure you can get Frankie and the other guys to help you carry your equipment to your car.” Grabbing Chance's wrist, she dragged him away from the crowd onto the driveway of the fire station. “What is your problem?” she hissed. “We already had this conversation. I told you I was going with Leon. And he's not a moron.”

“That was before.” He stepped into her space.

She tilted her head, looked up. “Before what?”

“Before we slept together.” Running a hand up and down the back of his head, Chance huffed out a breath. “That changed things. You can't go out with another man.”

Can't?
Jane planted her legs wide, her muscles quivering. “So what would you have me do? It's less than a week until the ball. I'm supposed to tell Leon—
Sorry, find someone else to go with
,
I found someone new
?”

“Yes.” He jutted his jaw out. “Besides, he probably doesn't even want to go. A silent auction doesn't have the same thrill as Jumanji, or whatever the hell it is he likes to play. Tell him there aren't any games there and he'll be happy enough to stay home.” His brows drew together. “You're not still going out to game nights with him, right?”

“Uh . . .”

“Are you?”

“Honestly, I haven't even thought about game night.” Jane blew out a breath. “But do you really think it's fair to Leon to break a pre-existing date because you and I are . . . ?” She flicked a hand between the two of them.

“Yes.” Mules had nothing on his stubbornness.

“Well, I don't.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I'm not breaking the date to the ball with him.”

“And what about game nights?”

“You know those aren't real dates.” Teenage Chance hadn't been so demanding. This new Chance was starting to tick her off. “You saw that Leon and I are nothing more than friends, so I don't know what your problem is.”

“My problem”—he stepped in so close his toes touched hers—“is that I don't share. I'm not saying I know where we're going, but while we're going there, I expect us to be exclusive. I'm not going to date someone who's seeing someone else. Even if that someone is an asexual tool.”

“And I'm not breaking a date I made months ago. It would be rude.”

He smiled, but there was nothing friendly about it. “You want to see rude, how's this.”

And he turned on his heel and walked away without another word.

* * *

For the eighth time that afternoon, Chance grabbed the waist of his son's pants and pulled him back down from the rock wall in Washington Park. It was day one of a three-off, and he and Josh had spent it together. First an early lunch, then the latest Disney movie, and now what should have been a relaxing afternoon in the park.

If his son didn't keep risking life and limb trying to scale the twenty-foot-high climbing wall. It was meant to be attempted using rappelling gear.

“I told you. When the man with the climbing gear isn't here, you can only climb as high as I stand. You try to go higher one more time, and we're done here.” His son loved to push his limits. A quality he admired in adults, but one that scared the hell out of him when it came to his child.

“But Dad,” Josh whined. “I'm a good climber. I can go all the way to the top.”

“Maybe you can”—Chance raised an eyebrow, pinned his son with his stern-father look—“but you won't. I'm the grown-up. My rules.”

Josh heaved a dramatic sigh. Squinting, he cocked his head and looked Chance up and down. “You're really tall. Much bigger than Joey's dad.” Joey was Josh's new best friend. Chance didn't know why he'd worried about moving his son across the country. Kids adapted quickly.