Authors: Cathryn Fox
By Cathryn Fox
When firefighter fantasies come true…
Copyright 2014 by Cathryn Fox
Published by Cathryn Fox
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.
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Formerly Published as THE HOTLINE, NAL Heat
First edition June 2014.
ISBN ebook-13: 978-1-928056-04-1
Table of Contents
Strawberry daiquiri in hand, Sara Jack blew a wispy auburn curl off her forehead and glanced around
her reporter’s eye stopping to examine the men crowded around the pool table. She studied them for a long moment, as though the sight of their scrumptious backsides was actually newsworthy. Of course, back in Trenton, Iowa, aka, Butthole Nowhere, such a sight really
newsworthy. But here in Chicago, tight firefighter buns were a dime a dozen, she supposed. And damned if she didn’t want to grab herself the
special, to go. Thirteen fresh, warm honey buns.
She sipped her fruity drink and considered the name of the establishment again.
, she mused. What a perfectly delicious name to describe the local watering hole where the firefighters from station 419 gathered nightly for a game of eight ball.
As Sara blocked out the din of the crowd, and completely ignored the bridal party members lounging around the table beside her, her lascivious gaze panned the hotties in the room a second time. Her investigative eyes zeroed in on one very sexy, very “well-equipped” Mitch Adams as he turned in her direction. The man had been warming her blood and getting under her skin during their rehearsals without even trying.
As she devoured his broad shoulders, his firm stomach, and his even firmer thighs, a slow heat gravitated south and burned her body from the inside out. She licked her suddenly parched lips, her mind wandering, conjuring up all the wicked ways Mitch, with his lethally honed physique and panty-soaking smile, could help extinguish those slow burning embers.
, she mused again, her glance settling a few inches below Mitch’s leather belt. What a great name for the firefighters’ bar - a name, she suspected, or at least hoped, had nothing to do with their profession.
Beer in one hand, pool cue in the other, Mitch lazily crossed his legs at the ankles and leaned against the pool table. Dark hair cut short gave him a charming boy-next-door look, but Sara suspected he was anything but.
Unlike the “nice boys” she’d dated back home, pleasant, spineless boys who bored her to death - inside the bedroom and out - Mitch had a raw sexuality about him that screamed of sex, sin and…
. Sara shivered. Almost violently. Surprised at just how much his carnal edginess aroused her.
Her gaze brushed over him again, taking pleasure in his square jaw, perfect white teeth, long athletic body, and bad-boy attitude. Sexual awareness prowled through her, warming her blood. Her glance traveled onward and upward until she met with a set of bedroom blues that shimmered with dark desire when they locked on hers. Mitch shot her a look that held all kinds of suggestions, all kinds of wicked possibilities.
Sara drew a sharp breath, her pulse pounding in her throat. She wiped her hands on her snug jeans, letting the denim drink in her moisture.
As he watched her watching him, his nostrils flared and his body tensed, tension lines bracketing his sensuous mouth. In that brief moment when their gazes collided, they shared a heated exchange, one that could undoubtedly set the crowded establishment ablaze.
It occurred to Sara that she wasn’t the only woman in the bar taken by his edgy sexuality. She twisted sideways, noting the way the other women in the room watched him, their body language indicating they’d like a tour of his station, with up- close and personal instructions on how he handled his hose.
Just then, Cassie Williams, the beautiful bride-to-be, the same woman who was responsible for Sara’s unexpected trip to Chicago, stepped up to the table. Sara welcomed the distraction and shifted in the chair to face her.
Sara had been best friends with Cassie since kindergarten, which was why she, along with her other best friends, Jenna Powers and Megan Wagner, had dropped everything and hopped on the first plane to Chicago. Nothing short of a category-five catastrophe would keep them all from attending Cassie’s nuptial exchange with sexy firefighter Nick Cameron.
With Sara’s body still feeling the effects of Mitch’s lusty gaze, she focused fully on Cassie.
“Pretty cute, isn’t he?” Cassie asked with a knowing look on her face as she gestured toward Mitch with a nod.
“What? Who?” Sara asked, feigning innocence.
Ignoring her question, Cassie sat down and shimmied closer. She tapped Sara’s nose. “Watch out for him, Sara. He’s not like the nice boys you know from back home.” Cassie remained quiet for a moment, while Sara mulled over that warning. A moment later, Cassie pitched her voice lower and added, “Mitch Adams is…dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Sara asked, her pulse racing a little faster, her internal temperature rising a little higher.
“Yeah, dangerous. A guy like that can capture your heart without even trying. And since I know you’re a girl who wants commitment and doesn’t want her heart broken, I suggest if you start anything with him, you go into it with your eyes wide open.”
Eyes wide-open…legs wide-open. Oh, the possibilities.
“I’ve known Mitch long enough to know he’s a no strings playboy, a woman’s fantasy. It’s the way he likes it.”
Playboy. Fantasy. No strings. Sara wasn’t seeing a downside here.
Cassie angled her head. “When you meet the right guy, you’ll know it.”
Sara shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe I’m not looking for the right guy.” Honestly, she’d love to find Mr. Right and settle down. Not that she expected to find her
“knight in shining armor”
in a bad ass like Mitch. What she expected to find with him was a bad boy who was also so very, very good.
“He’s a great guy to have fun with, but don’t expect more, Cassie said. “I just don’t want to see you hurt.”
Sara worked to tamp down her desire and keep her voice even. Trying for casual she toyed with her straw and said, “How could he possibly hurt me? I’m here on a two-week vacation.” She dragged her finger around the perimeter of her glass and continued, “From work and from reality.” It suddenly occurred to her that a break from reality, along with a red hot fling with a “
,” drop-dead-gorgeous firefighter, was just the thing she needed. What was that old vacation motto? What happened in Vegas stayed in Vegas. Surely that could apply to Chicago, too. Why couldn’t she have a wild, no-strings-attached affair and live out a few firefighter fantasies of her own? At least then she’d have something to warm her thoughts when she returned home to Iowa, to her mundane fluff job as reporter for Trenton’s small-time gazette.
The thoughts of going back to that office only to write another cow-tipping story made her shiver. Her dream job was to write sexy features for
, a young, hip, Chicago-based magazine for today’s strong, sexually empowered women. The trick was to come up with a great, hot topic story, one that would impress the
editors. Unfortunately, hot-topic stories were few and far between in her small town.
Cassie’s voice brought Sara’s attention back around. “To him, women are just sperm banks.”
Sara twisted her lips. “Sperm bank, huh?” It really had been far too long since she’d taken a deposit.
Sara looked over Cassie’s shoulder and spotted Mitch watching their exchange with interest, giving her the impression he knew exactly what they were talking about. He scraped his hands over his chin, dragging her gaze to his fingertips.
Her heart beat in a mad rush as she thought about how those fingers would feel tracing the pattern of her body, and touching her most private areas. She pictured his mouth ravishing hers, his hands on her breasts, his thick cock ramming her pussy, fucking her like she’d never been fucked before.
Just then their eyes connected, and in that instant, Sara knew she’d like nothing better than to take a few deposits from the bad ass firefighter.
Someone from across the room called out to Mitch. He twisted sideways and followed the sound, vanishing from her line of sight.
Sara pulled in a fortifying breath and focused all her attention back on the girls, playing catch-up on their conversation, which, from the sounds of things, was just beginning to heat up.
Never one to be subtle, Megan got right to the point. “So tell me, Cassie. Is Nick any good in bed?”
Cassie kept a telltale grin from her face, but the fire in her eyes spoke volumes. “You know I don’t kiss and tell.”
“I’m not asking about his kissing abilities, I’m asking about his fu-”
“Jesus, Megan,” Jenna piped in, “what kind of question is that?”
Megan shrugged. “I’m just asking, is all.”
“What you really should be asking is, does he know his way around a vagina? Because the last guy I dated couldn’t find my G-spot without a compass and detailed direction’s from Google Maps.”
A round of laughter erupted from the table and gained the attention of those around the four of them.
Still chuckling, Sara planted her elbow on the table and dropped her voice. “You think you’ve had it bad,” she whispered, resting her chin on her palms. “My last date thought a G-spot was the crisp five dollar bill he handed the waitress every morning in exchange for his coffee and paper.”
“Okay, since we’re having a whose-boyfriend-thinks-a-vulva-is-something-they-drive-to-work-every-morning contest I want in,” Megan added, laying her palms flat on the table, a wry grin curling her lips. “My ex-husband thought fellatio was something you ordered off the dessert menu at Applebee’s.” She smacked one hand to her forehead. “And to think I married him! What the fuck was I thinking?” A round of groans followed Megan’s confession.
“Okay, you win,” Sara piped in, going back to her drink. Maybe alcohol would lessen the painful truth that
the men back home were as boring in the bedroom as they were out of it.
Cassie leaned forward. She slipped something under her hand and slid it to the middle of the table. “Actually, there is a way you can all win. Except this time winning means
detailed directions, and
Before Cassie continued, her gaze darted around the room. Her voice dropped an octave as though all four women gathered around the table were masterminding some secret plan to take over the world. “This is just good, old-fashioned fun where those involved know what a G-spot is and how to work it.”
The other women all huddled forward, mimicking Cassie’s actions.
Megan lowered her voice to match Cassie’s. “What are you talking about?”
Cassie lifted her hand from the table to reveal a small white business card. A hush fell over the group as all sets of eyes focused on the rectangular piece of cardboard.
After a long moment, Jenna broke the silence. “The Hot Line?” She crinkled her nose, her glance going from the card to Cassie, then back to the card again. “What the hell is The Hot Line?”
With a fairly good idea of what Cassie was suggesting, Sara scooped the card up for a better look. It simply read, The Hot Line, with a phone number, 555-HEAT.
Sara shot Cassie a look, her mind racing with indecent ideas. She furrowed her brow, the reporter in her needing clarification, the woman in her blazing to life. “Yeah, what the hell is the Hot Line, Cassie?” she asked, examining the card.