Flashpoint

Chapter 7

Zach ran in the mornings. It woke him up, kept him in shape and gave him time to think. Typically, he thought about work or, more recently, Brooke. He really liked thinking about Brooke.

But this morning, after having a dream about the arson fire, it wasn’t Brooke on his mind, and he changed his routine, running past Hill Street. When he reached the fire site, he thought maybe he was still dreaming.

The place had been demolished, razed.

He stared at it in disbelief. On a hunch, he ran back to his house, got into his truck and drove to the site of a different fire, the one from a few months previous, a fire he’d also “cried” arson to Tommy about and had gotten his wrist slapped for.

That property was also demolished.

And the one before that? Yeah. Demolished. Standing at the edge of the third lot, where nothing remained but dirt, he pulled out his cell phone, but didn’t hit any numbers as his last meeting with the chief ran through his head. He’d been asked, and not very nicely, to do his own job and no one else’s.

Somehow he doubted stalking the fire sites would be considered doing his own job.

Shit. Tommy Ramirez had told him to be on his best behavior, but that was proving damn hard to do. Driving home, he called Aidan, but had to leave a message. While waiting for a return call, he tried to distract himself with a Lakers game but his mind kept wandering to the arson.

He couldn’t let it go. Driven to do something, Zach pulled out his laptop. He’d already typed up all his thoughts and notes on the fires. Now he needed to talk it out with someone, and oddly enough, the person that kept coming to mind wasn’t Aidan, but someone with sweet baby blues and a smile that pretty much destroyed him.

Brooke. He was driven by her, too, because, damn, she was something. She was something, and…and she wanted a relationship.

Driven as he was, he didn’t do relationships. Relationships always came to an end, and he hated endings. He didn’t need a shrink to attribute that to losing his parents so young, to growing apart from the brother he had nothing in common with except grief and, in a way, losing him, too.

No, he didn’t like endings, and therefore, avoided beginnings.

Still, Brooke drew him. She was a little buttoned-up, a little rigid, and-and hell. She had a smile that could melt him from across town, and a way of looking at him that suggested she could see right through to all his flaws, and she didn’t mind those flaws.

Jesus. He went back to his laptop, burying himself. He had property deeds, architectural plans, records of sales, and looked it all over for the hundredth time to see if there were any obvious connections.

When his doorbell rang, he figured it was Aidan. When he opened the door, it turned out to be a beautiful redhead.

Nope, not Aidan, but his neighbor Jenny with a pizza in one hand, a six-pack dangling from her other, and a fuck-me smile firmly in place.

“Hi, neighbor.” She lifted the pizza. “Interested?”

She was a high school librarian, but nothing about her was a stereotypical keeper of books. She hosted a weekly poker party, enjoyed car racing, and brewed her own beer. They were friends, and so far, just friends, but she’d made it clear that she was ready for that to change. Now here she was, flirting. Normally he’d flirt right back, but he didn’t. Stress, he decided. Stress and frustration. “I’m sorry, Jenny. It’s not a good time-”

“Don’t even try to tell me you’re not hungry. I’ll have to take your temperature.” She pushed her way in, carrying the food, swinging the beer. “Everyone has to eat.”

True. And she’d obviously decided the way to his heart was by way of his stomach, maybe with a side trip past other certain body parts. Up until a few weeks ago, he might have been happy to take that side trip, but he no longer wanted to. Not with another woman on his mind.

Jenny turned to face him, and her smile slowly faded. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m not sure.” Yes. Yes, he was. He wanted a blue-eyed, sweet, sexy EMT with a smile that slayed him.

And only her.

“Zach?” Jenny waved a hand in front of his face. “You look like you were just hit by a train.”

Uh-huh. The Brooke train. At some point, probably during the wild kiss, he’d decided no one else would do. Holy shit.

Jenny set down the food and popped the top off two of the beers, handing him one. “Here. You look like you could use this now.”

“Thanks.” He took a long pull.

“So who is she?”

“I didn’t even know there was a she until two seconds ago. How did you know?”

“It’s all over your face.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face, images of Brooke coming to him. That very first day when she’d woken him, or when she’d so fiercely approached Code Calico, and then Viagra Man…or the way she’d looked at him with her heart and soul in her eyes when she’d said she wanted a relationship.

“Damn,” Jenny said softly, still staring at him. “She’s…special, isn’t she?”

“I-yeah.” He managed to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“Not as sorry as I am.” With another sigh, she stepped toward him, and in a show of how stunned he was, managed to nudge him down to the couch with a single finger. Then she plopped next to him and clinked her bottle to his in a commiserating toast. “You’re good and screwed, you know that, right?”

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.

“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.