Jill Shalvis - Flashpoint

He leaned back and shook his head. “You have no idea.”

On the drive to work, Brooke took in the high morning surf on her left, and the joggers, walkers and bikers on her right. She’d lost track of how many times she’d moved in her life, but all of those places had been big cities. She had to admit small-town living appealed. Little to no traffic, good parking spots…

But she was almost four weeks down, and only two to go. Past halfway. Soon enough she’d be gone, far away from here, starting over yet again. She’d found jobs available in both Seattle and L.A., and had filled out applications, telling herself there was just something about the West Coast.

But actually, there was just something about Santa Rey, and it had little to do with the great weather and everything to do with the fact that in spite of herself, she was making ties here.

Blake was on his laptop when she entered the firehouse, and at the sight of her, he jumped guiltily, quickly slapping the computer shut.

“Don’t worry,” she quipped. “Your porn is safe with me.”

Instead of laughing, he grabbed his laptop and left the room.

Cristina was on one of the couches reading a Cosmo. She flipped a page. “Hey, New Hire. Maybe you should read this when I’m done. There’s an article here on how not to scare off men.”

Brooke shot her an exasperated look. “One of these days you’re going to call me Brooke.”

“I doubt it. Oh, and don’t forget to read this article. ‘How Not To Be Annoying At The Work Place.’”

Giving up, Brooke went into the kitchen. Her eyes automatically strayed to the counter-the scene of her two indiscretions: one a heart-stopping kiss, the other the best hug she’d ever had. Letting out a breath, she poured herself some iced tea and was adding sugar when the door opened behind her.

“Hey.”

At just the one word, uttered in that easygoing, low, husky voice, she dropped her spoon. “Damn it.” She crouched down, and so did Zach, handing her the spoon, smiling at her. He was in uniform, filling it out with that mouthwatering body, but there was something…quiet about him today. Something quiet and, frankly, also outrageously sexy.

He helped her up. “You’ve been getting sun.” He touched the tip of her nose. “And a few freckles.” He stroked his finger over her cheek, her jaw.

Her body was so pathetically charged her toes curled at his touch. That’s what happened when she spent her spare time dreaming about seeing him naked.

“You’re looking at me funny again. Do I have something in my teeth?”

“No.”

“Do I smell bad?”

That tugged a laugh out of her. He smelled delicious, and she suspected he knew it. “No.”

“Then what?”

“I dreamed about you,” she admitted.

“Ah. Were we mixing business and pleasure?”

She opened her mouth to say yes, oh most definitely yes, but then shut it again. No need to give him more power.

He just laughed softly. “We were, weren’t we?”

She felt the blush creep up her cheeks.

“Yeah.” Another low laugh and a naughty grin. “We were.”

“Zach-”

“Was it good?”

She bit her lower lip but it must have been all over her face because his eyes went all sexy and sleepy. “Off the charts, huh?”

She closed her eyes. Oh yeah, off the charts.

Tell him you want to do the mixing in person. She was still trying to find the words when he said with a smile, “So, exactly how off the charts were we?”

“Zach!” yelled Dustin from the other room. “Phone!”

Zach sighed. “I’ll be back. Don’t move.”

When he was gone, she let out a breath and fanned her face, saying the words she’d meant to say in front of him. “I was wrong. I want to mix business and pleasure. Just once.” She smacked her own forehead. “How hard is that to say?”

Behind her, someone cleared his throat.

Oh, God. Wincing, she turned around. Blake had come in the back door in his silent way and stood there. “Sorry.”

She just closed her eyes.

“No, it’s okay. I didn’t hear anything.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” he said.

“Really?”

“Nothing except you want to jump his bones.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Then I didn’t hear it.” He strode to the refrigerator, where he scrounged around and pulled out a soda, raising a brow when he realized she was still staring at him. “What? I won’t tell anyone.”

“Everyone tells everyone everything around here.”

He acknowledged that with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Okay, you know what? I’m going to need a secret of yours.”

He choked on his soda. “What?”

“That way I can guarantee that neither of us will talk.”

Blake looked at her, then turned away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Are you kidding? It’s a great idea.”

His narrow shoulders were tense now. “But my secret is really someone else’s.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Never mind.” Abruptly, he set his soda on the counter and walked out.

“Blake?”

But he was gone, carrying her very revealing secret. And then the fire bell went off and she put it out of her mind.

Later that day, Brooke and Dustin were in the kitchen devouring a box of cookies between them while standing in front of the opened refrigerator trying to cool off.

“We’re having a poker game Friday night at Cristina’s,” Dustin said. “You should join us.”

“Did you ask Cristina?”

“Don’t worry about her. She’ll be happy to see you.”

“Happy? Really? Cristina?”

“Okay,” he said with a fond smile. “So she can be aloof, but it’s just a facade. She’s really just a toasted marshmallow.”

“What did you call me?” Cristina came into the kitchen. She was in the bottom half of her fire gear, with a snug T-shirt on top. Her hair was pulled back and she looked hot, grumpy and irritated as she grabbed a handful of cookies.

“A toasted marshmallow.” Dustin grinned at her, leaning back against the counter. “Crispy on the outside, soft and gushy on the inside.”

Cristina hopped up on the counter next to him and set her head back against the upper cabinets, arms and legs spread in the aggressive sprawl of an alpha female who knew her place in the world. “Dustin?”

“Yeah?”

“The next time you call me a marshmallow, I’m going to pound you into the ground.” She uttered this threat with her eyes closed, without moving a single muscle. “Next time.”

Dustin winked at Brooke. “Definitely crispy on the outside.”

“I can be a marshmallow sometimes, too,” Brooke said.

A sound escaped Cristina, who still didn’t move or open her eyes. “You don’t know crispy. Dustin? Get me a water?”

“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.