Sandra Brown - Smoke Screen

“Oh yeah.” Much more nerdy than cute, in Raley’s opinion, which he wisely kept to himself. “I’ll bet you’re smarter than him.”

Not hearing his sarcasm, or disregarding it, she said, “Oh, no question of that.” She turned to him and peeled back her lips. “Do I have anything in my teeth?”

He inspected them and shook his head. “You’re good to go.”

“See ya.”

She headed off in the general direction of the lost-looking prosecutor. Poor bastard, Raley thought, mentally chuckling. He was in for a night of it.

Feeling adrift, Raley stepped out onto the patio, where the noise level was a trifle less earsplitting. The concrete pad was bordered on three sides by narrow strips of grass and enclosed with a privacy fence. Tonight the gate was open. Jay’s guests were free to spill out onto the common area of the apartment complex. None of the other residents seemed to mind the party racket. Raley was sure Jay had extended a blanket invitation as a preemptive strike against complaints.

And who was a neighbor to call to complain about noise? The cops? Any police department employee who wasn’t on duty tonight was here swilling beer and margaritas, noshing on chips and salsa, cheese cubes, and onion dip.

Raley looked through the open gate, planning his escape. He’d already told Candy he would leave well before she was ready to go, and she’d agreed to find her own way home. If he left through the gate, he could circle around to where he’d parked his car without having to go back through the apartment, avoiding an argument with Jay, who would urge him to stay.

He finished his beer and tossed the empty cup into a trash can, then started for the gate.

“Hi.”

He turned to make certain the greeting was intended for him. It was. But he’d never seen the young woman smiling up at him. “Your name’s Raley?”

“That’s right.”

Her smile widened. “Raley Gannon. I asked.” She pointed with her thumb over her shoulder, indicating that she’d asked his name of someone in the crowd.

“Oh.”

It wasn’t a brilliant comeback, but it was all he could think of to say. She was a stunner, from the tousled mass of blond hair to her red toenails. In between were a pair of high-heeled sandals, a white miniskirt, and a red tank top with FCUK spelled out in rhinestones. She was carrying a frozen margarita in each hand.

“You looked thirsty.” She handed one of the drinks to Raley. He took it, but she noticed him looking at the glittering letters stretched across her breasts. She laughed. “It stands for French Connection UK. Like England? It’s a line of clothing.”

“Oh, right.”

“Eye-catching though, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Makes you do a double take. At least it did you.” And she gave a little shimmy that caused all four letters to jiggle. Her breasts turned seismic.

Feeling guilty for staring, he looked into the margarita. “I was about to leave.”

Her evident disappointment was flattering. “You were? How come?”

“I, uh, I have some work to do.”

“On Saturday night?”

“Yeah, I-”

“I don’t hear any fire trucks.”

He gave a quick tilt of his head. “You know I’m a fireman? What gave me away?”

Shyly she ducked her head, peering up at him through her eyelashes. “I asked that, too. I wanted to have an icebreaker. You know, something to talk to you about? I wasn’t surprised to learn you were a fireman. I thought you must be something, you know, manly like that. With your build and all. But a fireman. Wow.”

He took a sip of his margarita. It was cold and delicious, a perfect combination of sweetness and bite. “A fireman is all I ever wanted to be.”

“So do lots of little boys. But you actually grew up to become one.” She licked salt from the rim of her glass and smiled at him.

He smiled back.

“Is it fun riding in the truck?”

“Well, if we’re going to a fire or an emergency-”

“Oh, I know it’s dangerous and all. But still, it’s gotta be a kick.”

Self-consciously, he grinned. “Yeah, it can be a kick.”

Someone jostled her from behind and she fell against him. “Oopsy-daisy.” Her breast-the one with the F and the C-mashed against his arm as she regained her balance. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Did I cause you to spill your drink?”

“Just a little.” He sucked drops of melting margarita off his hand and took another drink. Then another.

“The house is impossible,” she said, “but it’s getting crowded out here, too.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Without his making a conscious decision to relocate, Raley fell into step behind her as she made her way through the gate and out onto the expanse of lawn that connected the units of the complex. In the center of the compound was a swimming pool with a hot tub that would hold twenty, a clubhouse for residents’ use, twin tennis courts with basketball hoops at each end, and several gathering places, some enclosed with lattice walls, others open-air for sunning on chaise lounges.

She placed her hand on his arm and bent down to remove her sandals, sighing as her bare feet settled into the grass. “Ooh, that’s better.”

“I’ll bet. Those heels look lethal.”

She laughed. “They’re killers, all right, but they make your legs look good.”

Her legs looked good without them, too. He forced his eyes back up to her face. Had she told him her name? If so, he couldn’t recall it. He was about to ask when she posed a question to him. “Do you wear those wide, red suspenders?”

“They’re part of our gear.”

“They’re such a turn-on.” Again her tongue flicked salt off her glass. Her lips were very red, her tongue pointed and pink.

He glanced past her, back toward Jay’s patio. He didn’t realize they’d walked that far. At this distance, Bon Jovi was little more than thudding bass. His pulse seemed to be keeping time with “Wanted Dead or Alive.” “Uh, as I said, I was about to leave.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean to keep you.”

“No, it’s okay, I-”

“I thought it would be nice to finish our drinks out by the pool. Where it’s cooler.”

He hesitated, but at that moment, cooler sounded very good. “Okay. Sure.”

He walked with her toward the pool, along the way taking several missteps. “The margaritas are strong,” he remarked.

“I was about to say the same thing. Want to go swimming? It would clear your head.”

A question about swimsuits wafted through his brain, but it was too elusive to grasp. “No. I think I just want to sit a minute.”

“Me, too. Let’s go over here.”

She led him toward one of the areas enclosed by vine-covered lattice. There was seating enough for a small group, but when he sat down on a chaise, she sat down on it, too. “Lean back. I’ll switch on the fan.”

He lay back onto the angled cushion and watched as she walked to a support post where there was a switch plate. A flick of her fingers and the overhead fan began to turn, creating a welcome breeze. His eyes closed, but he didn’t realize they had until she rejoined him on the chaise and he pried them open to see her smiling down at him.

She leaned over him and ran her cold glass across his forehead. “Better?”

He mumbled something but wasn’t sure that what he’d said were actual words. Her breasts were sort of in the way of his lips.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Fiancée.”

“I figured. Men like you are always taken.”

“Men like me?”

She smiled as she undid several buttons on his shirt. “Strong, handsome firemen with hair on their chests.” Her fingers combed through his. “So where is she?”

“Uh, Boston. Business.”