Flashpoint (8 page)

“Ah, but I didn't hear the magic word.”

“Get me a water.
Please.
”

“See?” Dustin grinned as he reached for a glass. “Soft and mushy.”

“I'll have you know there's not a single inch of soft and mushy on me anywhere,” Cristina muttered without her usual heat, making Brooke take a closer look at her. The female firefighter looked pale and just a little clammy, alerting her to the fact that maybe Cristina wasn't just being her usual pissy self, but might actually be in pain. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Migraine.” Dustin filled the glass, which he gently nudged into Cristina's hands. Then he lay a cold, wet compress over her forehead.

“Thanks.” Cristina let out a sigh. “Christ, this sucks. I'm going to the chief's party tonight. No matter what, I'm going.”

“You should go home and sleep this off,” Dustin said.

“I know. But first…” She sat up and groaned. “I've got to clean out my unit from that last call. Blake's doing something for the chief, so—”

Dustin set his hand to the middle of her chest and held her down. “If you're going to get rid of that headache, you need to sit real still and you know it.”

The bell rang, and Cristina moaned, covering her ears as dispatch called for her and Blake's unit.

Dustin headed for the door. “I'll tell them you can't. They can get a different unit.”

“Dustin—”

“Save it.” He left the room.

Brooke looked at Cristina, so carefully still, pale and clearly miserable. “Can I get you anything?”

“Got a spare head?”

“Why don't you go home and go to bed?”

“I can't go anywhere until the rig is cleaned. We've got an inspection today.”

“I know. We're all in the same boat.”

“Oh, really? Are you on probation for falling asleep and not hearing a call?”

“Uh, no.”

“Do you have a recent traffic violation?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then get the hell out of my boat.” Cristina sighed and straightened, looking positively green now. “Okay, I'm getting up. Watch your shoes.”

“Stay.” Brooke didn't quite dare put her hands on Cristina as Dustin had done, but she held them up. “I'll clean out your rig for you.”

Cristina pulled the cold pack from her head and stared at Brooke. “Why? What do you want?”

Brooke let out a little laugh. “I'm offering to do something nice for you, even though you're not all that nice to me, and you're questioning it?”

“I'm less than ‘not all that nice' to you, I'm downright bitchy. So the question stands, New Hire. Why would you do my job for me?”

Brooke shrugged. “Why not?”

Cristina just stared at her, the pain evident in her eyes but not hiding her cynicism. “The question isn't why not, but
why?
”

“Maybe I like to help people.”

“We all do. Hence our jobs.”

“Maybe I just do it nicer than you.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Cristina's lips at that, then she very carefully covered her eyes with the compress again and leaned back. “Everyone does everything nicer than me.”

“True,” Dustin agreed, coming back into the room. “You're officially off duty, Cris.”

Cristina peeked out from the cold pack to shoot him a look.

“You're sick. Take the break.”

Cristina sighed. “Go away. Both of you just go away and let me die in peace.”

Dustin lifted her off the counter.

“Hey!”

“If you won't put yourself to bed, I'll do it for you.”

“Oh, sure, wait until I'm debilitated before you finally make a move on me.”

He stared down at her, clearly shocked, his glasses slipping down his nose. “You want me to make a move on you?”

She didn't answer.

“Cristina?”

“There's a very real possibility I'm going to throw up on you. So if you could stop talking, that would help.”

“And if you could stop trying to tell me what to do when you're as green as a leaf, that would help.”

She laughed very very softly. “Assertive, too. Who knew? Hey, New Hire?”

Already heading for the door to go clean Cristina's rig, Brooke glanced over. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

 

“A
PARTY
,” Brooke muttered to herself. She'd showered and was now standing in the center of the bedroom she'd made hers, the first bedroom in her life that she loved without reason.

She had no idea if that was because her grandmother had put silly white-lace curtains over the window, which ruffled prettily in the wind, or if it was the dark cherry antique furniture. Or maybe it was because she'd come here looking for an exterior change of pace and had found an interior change of pace instead.

Because deep inside, she'd settled here. Her heart had engaged, for this town, this house.

For a man…

She stared into the closet. She had only one thing appropriate for a party on the beach, and that was a pretty little halter sundress she'd bought on a whim and had never worn.

With a sigh, she pulled it on, then didn't look at herself in the mirror. She did not want to change her mind. In that vein, she slipped into a pair of flip-flops and headed directly toward her car before she could come up with a million and one reasons not to go, starting with needing to work on the house and ending with because she was nervous.

Being nervous was not an option.

Not only was she going to go to this party, she was going to go and relax.

Let loose.

She needed to remember the concept. She needed to live the concept. She was going to smile and laugh. She was going to let go. And maybe even manage to do so with one wildly sexy Zach Thomas.

If he was still interested.

Please let him still be interested.

She drove to the beach, parked and got out of her car, the salty air brushing at her hair, the waves pounding the surf sounding all soft and romantic. Then she glanced over at the man getting out of the truck right next to her and her heart knocked hard into her ribs.

Zach wore board shorts and a T-shirt, his body looking at ease and beach ready. His eyes, though…not so relaxed. Nope. As she watched them lock on her, they were filled with the same hunger and frustration she felt, and she knew.

He was most definitely still interested.

I
T HAD BEEN
a shitty day all around, Zach thought as he got out of his truck. He'd had another unpleasant phone call with Tommy, who refused to tell him what was happening with the arsons. Then he'd covered for Cristina on three calls and as a result, hadn't been ready for their monthly inspection, and the chief had chewed him out.

Zach had almost not come tonight.

But now, looking into Brooke's eyes, he was suddenly glad he had. Very glad. Just taking her in, he felt a visceral reaction clear to his toes. For the first time since he'd met her, she wasn't dressed for the practicality of their work. No uniform trousers and matching shirt, no steel-toed work boots, no carefully controlled hairdo that said.
Back off. The rest of me is wound as tight as my hair.

Not that
that
look didn't have some hotness to it.

But tonight she was in a pale blue sundress of some lightweight material that hugged toned limbs and a body that reminded him she was in shape.

Great
shape.

She'd left her hair down, the strawberry blond strands falling in soft waves just past her shoulders, lit softly by the moonlight. A few long bangs were swept to one side, curving along her cheek and jaw, emphasizing her face.

A beautiful face.

Looking at him.

Smiling at him, with just a hint of nerves.

And he stood there, a little stunned, because when she smiled for real it lit up her face and her eyes, revealing humor and a sharp intelligence, and…and a sexual awareness that sparked his.

Hell, his had been sparked from the moment he'd first set eyes on her, but once he'd realized she wasn't going to play, he'd tried like hell to redirect.

She wasn't going to play.
Playing wasn't her thing. He needed to remember that. He really did. Turning, he headed down the beach. Not to the party, not yet. He needed a moment—

“Zach?”

Alone. He'd needed a moment alone, away from her, to clear his head, where he couldn't see her looking at him, so sweet and sexy, smiling that smile—

A little breathless, she ran around to the front of him, one hand stopping her loose hair from sliding into her face, the other spread on her dress as if to keep it from blowing up in the wind.

Torn between hoping for a gale-force wind or running away, he stood there instead, rooted to the spot. “You look…”

“Silly, right?” She smoothed down the fabric but the breeze continued to tease the flimsy material, lifting it, revealing her lovely thighs for one all-too-brief, tantalizing glimpse. “I know. I should have stuck with something more practical—”

“Amazing,” he managed. Even the sound of her voice lifted his spirits. Somehow she made him feel better by just being. “I was going to say you look amazing.”

“Oh.” She flashed another kill-him-slowly smile. “It's just a dress.”

“I like it. I like the lip gloss, too.” It smelled like peaches, and he wondered, if he leaned in right now, would she let him have another taste of her?

Just one.

Who was he kidding? One taste wouldn't cover it. Neither would two. Nope, nothing less than an entire night of tasting would be good enough.

Tipping back his head, he stared up at the star-littered sky, taking a moment to draw in the salty air, to listen to the waves.

But that moment didn't give him the peace he needed. Not when she was still looking at him, her gaze wordlessly telling him that she wanted him, too. “You should head on over to the party.” He gestured with a hitch of his chin to the bonfires already going about a hundred yards down the beach, and the growing crowd.

In spite of what Zach thought of him, the new chief was extremely popular.

“Can we walk first?” Brooke gestured in the opposite direction. “Just us?”

Walking alone with her on a moonlit night along the beach? A fantastically bad idea.

“Please?”

No. Absolutely not.

She held out her hand. “Sure,” his mouth said without permission from his brain, and taking her hand, he led her down the path to the water. There they kicked off their flip-flops and walked with the surf gently hitting the shore on their right, the cliffs on their left and the moonlight touching their faces.

Pretty damn romantic, which didn't help.

A wave splashed over their bare feet and legs, and the bottom of Brooke's dress got wet, clinging like plastic wrap.

Perfect. Just what he needed. Brooke all wet.

Letting out a low laugh, she gathered the material in her hands, pulling it up above her knees as she backed farther up on the sand.

He thought she'd turn and head toward the party, but she didn't. She kept going.

And like a puppy on a leash, he followed.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” she asked.

He took in her profile, the small smile on her glossed lips, the few freckles across her upturned nose, her hair flying around her face. “Yes,” he agreed. “Beautiful.”

Her gaze flew to his. “I was talking about the scenery.”

“I know.”

“But you weren't looking at it.”

“No.”

“I…” She let out what sounded like a helpless sigh. “You were saying that I'm beautiful?”

“Yes.”

“See, that's the thing.”

“There's a thing?”

“Well, you make me feel a thing.” She looked away. “A few things, actually.”

Uh-huh. And that made two of them.

The breeze continued to toy with the wet hem of her dress and his mind at the same time. He took in the empty beach, the myriad alcoves and cliffs lining the shore, forming lots of private little spots where they could escape to without being seen.

Where he could slowly glide that dress up her legs and—

“Ouch.”
She hopped on one foot, then bent to pick something up. “A shell.”

He traced his finger over it in the palm of her hand. “I used to have jars and jars of these when I was little.”

“You grew up here?”

“Yep. Santa Rey born and bred. My parents were surfers. I think my first words were surf's up.”

She laughed, but then the sound faded. “You miss them. Your parents.”

Lifting his eyes from the shell, his gaze collided with hers. “It was a long time ago, but yeah. I miss them.”

“I lost my dad before I was even born, and I still miss him.”

“What happened?”

“He died in a car wreck. My mom…she didn't really recover. She never settled in one place again, or with one man.”

“That must have been rough on you.”

“Not as rough as losing both parents.” She squeezed his hand.

Yeah, it'd been rough. He and his parents had lived in an old apartment building on the beach. It'd been rundown, but it had fed their surf habit. He'd remembered every second of the night their building had caught fire. Every second of hearing his mother scream in horror at being stuck in the kitchen, surrounded by flames. Every second of watching his father battle those flames to try to get to her. The fire department had been volunteer at the time. They'd done the best they could, but their best hadn't been enough to save his parents. Their rescue effort had been a recovery effort pretty much from the start.

“Your older brother raised you?”

“He did.”

“Does he live here, too?”

“No, Caleb's a high-powered attorney in L.A. Driven and ambitious…we're very different.” He smiled. “He's still after me to do something with my life.”

“Firefighting isn't doing something?”

He shrugged. “Well, it's not going to get me fame and fortune, or into a cushy old-age home.”

“You don't care about any of that.”

“No.”

She nodded, looked down at her fingers, then back into his eyes. “We're very different, too. You and I.”

“I know.”

“Are you okay with that?”

Zach felt a smile tug at his mouth. “I happen to like the differences between a man and a woman.”

She let out a soft laugh. “I meant that you're laid-back and easygoing, and I'm…not.”

“I don't judge my friends.”

“Yeah, about that.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “I have a question.”

He hoped like hell it was something like,
Can I kiss you again?

She hesitated, then shook her head. “I need to walk some more.”

“Okay.” But he was saying this to her back because she'd already started walking, not along the water this time, but up the sand toward the bluffs, where they could move over rocks the size of houses. She did just that, climbing one, reminding him that she was a capable, strong woman who spent her days lifting heavy gurneys.

He followed behind her, enjoying the way her dress bared her back, her arms, how it kept catching between her legs.

With a huff of frustration, she finally hiked the dress to midthigh so she could move easier, a sight he greatly enjoyed from his lower vantage point.

Her panties matched her dress.

Then she vanished from view. “Brooke?”

“Up here.”

He found her on a ledge the size of his pickup truck, sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees, her face turned out to the ocean, the waves tipped in silver from the moonlight. “Isn't it amazing?” she whispered.

Yeah. Yeah, it was, but she was even more so. He sat next to her so that their shoulders touched, and for a long moment neither of them spoke.

“The waves are mesmerizing.” She sighed. “I could watch them all night.”

“You should see them beneath a full moon.”

“I've rarely taken the time to just sit and watch waves. Actually, that's not true. I've
never
taken the time to just sit and watch waves.” She let out a long breath and looked at him.

“You had a question,” he reminded her.

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. “I was thinking maybe I'm too rigid. For instance, I shut down this thing between us without giving it full consideration. I said I wanted a relationship, but the truth is, I'm leaving in a matter of weeks. I couldn't really have a relationship, anyway. Plus, you were right about me not relaxing enough. Letting loose. I need to try some of that.” She paused and looked at him for a reaction.

“Okay,” he said carefully. “So…”

“It's just that I'm not exactly sure how to start.” She flashed an insecure smile. “I've always been in school, or working. It's not really left a lot of time for anything else. I mean, I've had feelings for guys before, of course, but…but not in a while. A long while, actually.” She paused again. “Do you understand?”

He was trying.

With a sigh, she took his hand. “I'm attempting to come on to you.” She brought his hand up to her chest, over the warm, creamy skin bared by her halter dress to her heart.

He looked down at his long, tanned fingers spread over her, feeling the curve of her breast beneath his palm, and the way her heart beat wildly, and then stared into her eyes.

“Just once,” she said very softly, “I want to be wild and crazy without worrying about anything. No meaning, no strings, no falling for anyone, just…let loose.”

“I want to be very clear,” he said, just as softly. “You're looking to—”

“Have sex.”

“Have sex.” She wanted to have sex. Just once. Had she been dropped here by the fantasy gods? How the hell had a shit-spectacular day turned so perfect?

“Zach? Am I doing this wrong?”

He let out a low laugh—it was for real. “You're not doing anything wrong, believe me. But…” He looked around them, at the rock. “Now?”

“Yes, please.”

Again, he laughed.
Laughed.
“Here?”

“Here.”

His entire body reacted to the thought, so apparently he was on board with the here and now.

“Just the once,” she clarified.

“To be wild and crazy.”

She smiled. “That's right. And no falling. No messy emotions. Promise me.”

“No falling. No messy emotions.” He was so ready, his board shorts had gotten restricting, but he hesitated. “Brooke. What if that doesn't work?”

“Well, of course it'll work. We'll take our clothes off and lie on them, and then—”

He interrupted with a smile. “Trust me, I know how to do
that
part. I meant, what if once isn't enough? What if we still go up in flames when we look at each other at work? What if afterward, someone gets hurt?”