Seducing the Fireman (Risky Business) (5 page)

Chapter Seven

“Quit harassing the baby fireman, Quinn.” Becca stole a quick glance at her friend between shots. The other woman was eyeing Mr. July like a cougar poised to strike. “That kid can’t be a day over twenty.”

“And yet he’s so good with a hose,” Quinn mused, keeping her eyes fixed on the water that trickled down his face and neck. Then again, it probably wasn’t his
face she was interested in. “Seriously. He can turn that hose on me any day.”

Clicking through Mr. July’s shots, she studied the images with a critical eye. His patriotism was sure to set some panties on fire come Fourth of July. Really, it was a wonder she’d been able to keep it together with so many stacked firefighters running around half naked. And if all those perfectly sculpted pecs
and abs weren’t tempting enough in their natural state, Quinn had started rubbing the guys down with baby oil, leaving their muscles glistening under the bright lights.

She gave herself mental props for maintaining her composure in the face of so much hotness. Too bad she couldn’t say the same for Quinn, who’d been in a perpetual state of lust all day. The woman was on a mission to find
out which of the models were single and ready to mingle—her exact words. Becca grinned. Only Quinn could get away with something so absurdly cheesy and still draw men like bees to a honeycomb. And as long as Quinn was focused on the guys, Becca could work in peace.

Win-win.

Quinn had spent the morning obsessing over how hot the guys were and what a sweet gig it was for Becca. She wasn’t
wrong, but it was distracting to say the least. Especially with thoughts of Jax and the best sex ever dancing in her head.

Jax
.

She could hardly wrap her brain around it. She, Becca Mancini, had actually had sex—the dirty, erotic kind—with Jackson Hart. It was everything she’d imagined it would be. It was also stupid. Like, unholy-demons-had-invaded-her-body-and-made-her-sin-in-the-naughtiest-of-ways
stupid. What had she been thinking? He was the only man who’d ever broken her heart, and she’d gone right ahead and served her body up to him on a silver platter. The moment he’d mentioned doing it again, she’d panicked. Big time. She still felt bad about throwing him out naked, but he’d warned her—told her right up front that she was playing with fire. And like a hormonal teenager
with no regard for the future, she’d rushed right in without a second thought for the messy consequences.

Well, no more. Sex with Jax had cleansed her system. They’d acted on their physical attraction and it was time to move on. No harm, no foul. No more third degree burns that would take years to heal.

She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead. Why was it so freaking hot?
Must be the flames on the set, because it sure as hell wasn’t thoughts of Jax raising her body temperature.

Becca shook her head to clear her thoughts. He had no business being here today. She needed to remain focused. After all, it was only the biggest shoot of her life. It had to go well. She couldn’t afford any screw-ups. The FDNY had taken a big risk entrusting an unknown with the annual
fundraiser, and she would not let them down. Hell, she wouldn’t let herself down. She had this. Because if she didn’t? Well, her parents’ offer to move home was always open, as they were too happy to remind her every Sunday at dinner. But she wouldn’t take them up on it. She was determined to stand on her own two feet, which was exactly why she’d gotten her own apartment in the first place. If
she had to work a day job until she got her photography business off the ground, so be it.

Keeping her attention focused on Mr. July, she snapped another half dozen shots as he flexed his ridiculous eight-pack and slung a coiled hose over his shoulder. The damn thing probably weighed close to a hundred pounds and he was slinging it around like it was nothing.

It was totally badass.

From her position on the warehouse floor, she was getting a great angle on him, the light hitting his slick muscles just right. “All right, Vic. Enough with the serious stuff,” she said, climbing to her feet and dusting off the front of her oversize
I Love Wild Things
T-shirt. It was a futile effort. The warehouse was perfect for the shoot, allowing them to bring in charged hoses, trucks,
and even flames in a controlled setting, but it was filthy and she was going to be a hot mess when it was over. “Give me a smile. A real one.”

It was Vic’s first shoot, and he’d been so nervous in the beginning, but she had some good shots of him once he’d relaxed. It hadn’t taken long to figure out the guys weren’t exactly on the job for the fame and fanfare. Sure, they’d take off their
shirts and strut around for a good cause, but they tended to be camera shy. It was her job to make them feel as comfortable as possible. After all, the fans wanted to see them in their natural element, and while these guys liked to carry on and have a good time, they were all business on the job. Their lives depended on it.

Vic, bless his heart, tried to smile, but it came off like a grimace.
Time for a different approach. She just hoped the FDNY didn’t sue her for sexual harassment.

“Hey, Vic. Is it true firefighters go in when it’s extremely hot and don’t pull out until it’s dripping wet?”

The god-awful pickup line earned her a real smile. He even tipped his head back, a hearty laugh rolling up from his belly. Perfect. It was the shot she needed.

“Yeah, so don’t
prime the pump unless you want to squirt a little water,” he shot back, shaking his head.

Becca laughed right along with him, thanking her lucky stars Quinn had tagged along today. Her presence had turned out to be helpful after all, since she’d been quizzing the guys on pickup lines all day. The worse they were, the better she’d told them. And they were all shooting for the stars.

She checked her camera one last time, ensuring she had everything she needed from Vic. “That’s a wrap. You’re free to go. Nice work today.”

The next few shoots went well, but when it came time for Mr. October, he was nowhere to be found.

“Have you seen Mr. October?” she asked Quinn. If anyone would know if he’d checked in, it would be her. She’d even taken it upon herself to help with
their makeup, smearing soot and grease on their bodies to get the most authentic shots possible. “Name’s Johnson.”

“Johnson?” Quinn tilted her head thoughtfully. “Nope. Haven’t seen any big Johnsons yet.”

Becca rolled her eyes. Great. They only had a few hours of natural light left. There was no time for delays. Maybe she could rework the schedule. She grabbed her planner, flipping
through the pages with headshots of all the models and her notes on what poses and backdrops each would get. October was National Fire Prevention Month, so it was important to the FDNY. She’d just have to circle back on that one. If she adjusted the lights and the guys helped her—

The warehouse door banged shut, the sound reverberating through the cavernous space.

“Nice of you to join
us,” she muttered, shifting her attention to the newcomer who was strutting across the warehouse like he owned the place.

“He can check my smoke detector any day,” Quinn said, sidling up next to her. “If that’s Johnson, he was well worth the wait.”

“No,” she replied, her blood pressure spiking. “That is Jackson Hart.” What the hell was he doing here? She silently cursed Christopher
for bringing up the shoot at dinner. The last thing she needed was Jax inserting himself in her life whenever he pleased. “And steer clear. He’s trouble.”

“You don’t say?” Quinn asked, checking him out with an appraising eye.

“This is a closed set,” Becca called, turning her back on him and fixing her attention on her notebook. The words swam before her eyes, but at least she didn’t
have to face Jax.

“I’m your new Mr. October.”

“What? Why?” She dropped her pen, blood roaring in her ears. No way was she shooting Jax. Without a shirt. Slathered up in whatever grease and soot and sexiness Quinn could wipe all over him to make the ladies swoon. “Where’s my Mr. October?”

“Something came up.” He smirked, and damn if she didn’t want to wipe that grin off his face.
“You want a Mr. October, I’m it.”

“You?” No. Freaking. Way.

“Unless you have another option?” he asked, widening his stance as if to challenge her. “You want to turn in a calendar without Mr. October, by all means, you’re the photographer. But I don’t think the FDNY will be real happy.”

Stupid jerk had a point, but she’d eat hot coals before admitting it. “Fine. You want to be
Mr. October so bad? Let’s do this.”

“Don’t worry, shortie. I can handle it.” He arched his brow and crossed his arms over his chest, sizing her up. “Are you sure you can?”

“Sugar, don’t you worry about us. We’re going to take good care of you,” Quinn promised, patting his arm demurely. When she hooked her arm through his and led him over to the dressing area, Becca saw red.

Sucking in a deep breath, she willed her heart rate to slow. So Jax was on her set. Big deal. She was a professional. And this was a paying job. She’d shoot whoever the FDNY sent, and she’d do it well. Keep your enemies close and all that nonsense. Busying herself with her camera, she tried—unsuccessfully—to block out the sounds of Jax and Quinn cavorting not twenty feet away.

They were all
adults. She didn’t give a damn what he did. Although it would be nice if he didn’t rub her face in it. You know, since just days ago he’d been ravishing her body. But whatever. It just reaffirmed her decision to end things before they got out of hand.

Once a player, always a player.

When Quinn returned to her side, wiping her hands on a rag, Becca couldn’t help but ask, “Having fun?”

Quinn tossed the soiled rag on the worktable and shrugged. “He looked familiar. I was trying to figure out how I knew him.” Becca froze. “Then I remembered. I saw him at Stout a few weeks back. You remember? The Rangers fans?”

Busted.

Damn Quinn’s investigative mind. The woman wrote a lot of human interest pieces because she had a flair for the dramatic, but only a fool would
assume it was due to lack of talent.

“So exactly how close did you get to Mr. October?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows. “Please tell me you took a spin on his pole. That man is fine.”

Flames shot up the back of her neck, burning her cheeks.

“Oh my God, you did!” Quinn squealed. “How was it?”

“Shh! Keep it down,” she pleaded, risking a glance at Jax, who was stepping into
his turnout gear. The muscles in his back rippled when he tugged his boots, putting her body on full alert. “Amazing. But then I kicked him out.” She paused. “Naked.”

Quinn’s face went blank. The corner of her mouth quivered. “Kind of awkward he’s here then, isn’t it?”

“Not really helping, Quinn.”

“What did you expect?” she asked, completely matter-of-fact. “Mercury is in retrograde.”

Becca narrowed her eyes at the other woman. This was no time for astrological mumbo jumbo.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Quinn crossed her arms, taking a defiant stance. “Everyone knows pandemonium ensues when Mercury is in retrograde. Hell, I lost my keys yesterday and had to scale the fire escape like a ninja. Not sure what it says about my window locks that I can pop them with a
credit card, but please tell me that man is going to make it past three dates?”

“Three dates? Not a chance,” she scoffed, considering Jax’s resourcefulness. How many strings had he pulled to be here today? It didn’t matter. The three-date rule was there for a reason, not only to protect her heart, but also her sanity. She sucked at fourth dates. They always ended in disaster.
Always
. Like
that time she’d made dinner for Matt and he’d gone into anaphylactic shock. Not exactly the best way to find out your date is allergic to peppers. No, fourth dates were bad luck, and she had more than enough of that in her life already. Besides, Jax wasn’t even getting
one
date. “He’ll be lucky to make it through today’s shoot.”

…

Jax fastened his pants and dropped the suspenders,
leaving them dangling at his sides like Quinn suggested. The pants hung low on his hips, revealing the cut of his abs, which she’d said would make the ladies crazy. Assuming that included Becca, he was all in. Hell, he was still fantasizing about her hands exploring his body, and he needed more time with her to make those fantasies a reality.

The photo shoot seemed like the perfect opportunity
for face time. She’d have no choice but to talk to him. Only the joke was on him. Glancing around the warehouse, he took note of all the apparatus the guys had brought in. He’d assumed she’d be shooting them in some small, intimate studio where he could exercise his powers of persuasion. Not once had he considered anything this elaborate, or a set with this many people milling about. He was
way out of his league, but no way in hell would he admit it to Becca. Besides, he had the easy job, right? Just flex and smile. That’s what the guys told him, anyway.

“Let’s get this over with,” Becca grumbled, waving for him to get on the makeshift set. Tension rolled off her body like waves lapping at the Brighton Beach shoreline. He could think of a few ways to help her relax, if only
she’d let him.

“Is this how you welcome all your models?” he asked, crowding her behind the camera as she fiddled with the tripod.

“Just the ones who insist on calling me ‘shortie’ and know dessert is my kryptonite,” she returned, her tone light, as if she were smiling.

“What’s wrong with dessert?” he asked, his lips brushing her ear. “I like a woman who’s not afraid to eat dessert.”

She sighed and lowered her face to the camera, peering through the lens. “You do understand this won’t work unless you’re in front of the camera, right?”

“But the view is so much better from back here.”

That got her attention. She straightened her spine and turned to face him. “What are you doing here, Jax?”

“I figured it was the only way to talk to you. About the other
night,” he explained, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his pants, doing his best to look at ease when he felt anything but. He hated being out of control, and being around Becca put him on edge. “You didn’t really think we were done, did you?”