Flames of Love

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Flames of Love Page 4

by Melissa Foster


  “Why? Am I that…? What? What would that even make me? I love romance. I love that you guys would do anything for the women in your lives. I love that if Kate called Sage at three in the morning and he was painting, he’d drop everything and go home.”

  “I would.” Sage pressed a kiss to Kate’s lips.

  “And that Dex lied to us about having a meeting because he’s really going to take a cab down to get Ellie so she doesn’t have to ride home alone.” She smirked at Dex.

  “How can you possibly know that?” Dex asked.

  “Because Ellie told me last week when you did it, and she said you never let her go home alone at night.” Siena looked at Jack. “And you, Jack. You have Savannah’s coffee ready every morning before she’s even awake, and then you walk her to the subway. Like it or not, you guys are total romantics, and I don’t think there’s any reason I shouldn’t expect the same thing.”

  Siena had a pretty face and a body that men were drawn to—a lean figure, long legs, and full breasts that weren’t made of silicone—and sometimes those were exactly the things she hated about herself. She attracted the attention of the wrong kind of men. Men who thought she was brainless and easy just because she was a model. Little did they know that her four-star-general father would have none of that beauty-trumps-all philosophy. He’d pushed her and her five brothers to be the best they could be, and though she’d been modeling since she was eight, she now boasted a degree in biology that she’d never do anything with professionally, but she was proud to have accomplished it just the same. Siena was smart, and she was pretty, and that was enough to make certain women hate her and to intimidate men who weren’t part of the wealthier crowd. It had turned into the bane of Siena’s existence for the past two years. There was a time she reveled in the attention and feeling as if she were somehow more special than others. But that got old—and lonely—fast. Now she just wanted to be loved and cherished. Romanced, not taken out to dinner with the expectation of sex. She didn’t want over-the-top dates and diamonds on every finger. She wanted a man who would look at her like her brothers looked at their girlfriends and fiancées, like they were the oxygen they needed to breathe, for no reason other than who they were on the inside.

  Jack took Siena’s hand and looked at her with a soft gaze that said, My little naive sister, let me teach you. “Honey, you need a guy who’s a challenge, like Sage said. And we are romantics, but we’re also men. Real men. Men that Dad raised, which means that we get angry, and we get ornery, and we act like Neanderthals when we’re challenged. Don’t lose sight of that; otherwise you’ve completely emasculated every one of us.” Jack squeezed her hand. “Now, tell me what the hell you were doing that he had to lecture you about.”

  Shoot. She thought she’d gotten off home free. She pulled her hand from his and scooted closer to Dex.

  “She went out in the storm and drove off an embankment,” Kate said.

  “Hey!” Siena glared at her.

  “It’s like a Band-Aid. Rip it off fast and it’ll sting less.” Kate snuggled against Sage.

  Siena watched Jack’s jaw clench and his dark eyes narrow.

  Savannah ran her hand down his arm. “Jack.”

  “You could have been killed in that storm.” Jack’s tone was unyielding. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have driven you anywhere you needed to go.”

  “Jack, I’m twenty-six, not fifteen.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t care if you’re twenty-six or thirty-six; you’ll always be my little sister, and if you ever do something stupid like that again, I’ll—”

  “Jack.” Savannah shook her head. “He just loves you, Siena.”

  “I know.” Jesus, that was way too reminiscent of Cash. “Sorry, Jack. If it makes you feel better, I learned my lesson.”

  “Damn well better have.” Jack shook his head, then blew out a breath and leaned forward again. “Siena, listen, the weather can turn in an instant. I’m sorry I got so mad, but people die in flash storms all the time. I don’t want to find out that I lost you to something like that.”

  That’s when it hit her. Jack had lost his wife in a flash storm a few years earlier. Guilt prickled her limbs. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Now, tell me if the guy said anything that I need to beat his ass for, or was he just an ass in general?”

  Siena sighed. “He was…like you were just then.”

  “Good man.” Jack smiled.

  “Ugh.”

  “I guess you probably don’t want to tell us about the dating an athlete thing, huh?” Kate asked.

  Siena rolled her eyes. She’d had enough frustration for one night. She didn’t want any more lectures, and she didn’t want to talk about the awful situation Jewel was thrusting upon her. One more glass of sangria to dim the memory of Cash Ryder, and then she’d have Dex walk her home, where she’d cuddle up under her blankets, call Willow, and commiserate with someone who would say nothing more than, Aw, that sucks, or, What an ass, whether she believed it or not. Because that’s what friends—instead of women who were like sisters—did.

  “WHAT THE HELL is all that?” Tommy stood in the doorway of the firehouse bedroom.

  Cash looked up from where he sat on one of the beds, surrounded by photos of Vetta and Samuel. “What does it look like?” He took a picture and slid it into a vinyl pocket of one of the photo albums he’d bought. When he left Vetta, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Siena or Samuel, and after working out for an hour and a half and still feeling like a bundle of nerves, he’d gone out and bought three big photo albums.

  “Yeah, I get that they’re pictures, but who are they of and what are you doing with them?” Tommy came into the room and stood over him, arms crossed, shaking his head. “You’ve lost it, man.”

  Cash clenched his jaw.

  “I have forty-eight off. C’mon. Let’s go grab a brew.”

  Cash blew out a breath and held his hand out, as if he were displaying the pictures. “They’re Vetta’s. I figured if I give her something to remember him by, it’ll ease the guilt.”

  “I get it,” Tommy said. “Dude, you’re a good man. She knows that. You said yourself that she doesn’t blame you.”

  “Yeah, she doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean I don’t.”

  “You’ve been doing this for a decade and he was your first loss,” Tommy said with concern in his eyes.

  Joe Arlen strolled into the bedroom and flopped on a bed. “Hey.”

  “Hey, Joe. We’re taking off.” Tommy nudged Cash’s arm. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here.”

  Cash knew the drill. He was off. Joe was on. The bedroom belonged to Joe and the other guys who were on duty now, and they didn’t need him there keeping them awake. He gathered the photos into the shoe box and put them and the photo albums into his locker.

  Tommy reached for the magazine on the top shelf. “You stole the Remington mag? I thought you were just taking it into the bathroom. Dude, that’s so uncool.”

  Cash grabbed his hand before he could snag it and glared at him.

  Tommy cocked his head to the side.

  “Remember the woman I rescued last night?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah.”

  Cash nodded at the magazine.

  “No fucking way.”

  “Way.” Cash slammed his locker shut and locked it.

  “So…What? No way. Did you ask her out?”

  They headed down the stairs and onto the street. “No. She’s a pain in the ass. You know the type—entitled, belligerent.”

  “Hot.”

  “Like the world owes them something.” Cash rounded his shoulders forward against the cold. “NightCaps?” The local brewery, and their preferred hangout, was right around the corner from the station.

  “I was going to suggest Bart’s for a change, but Kelly hates that waitress who hits on me all the time. NightCaps it is.” Tommy shoved his hands in his pockets.

  A few blocks later they opened the doors to NightCaps and h
eaded inside. “Not too busy. Happy hour must be over. Grab us a couple of beers and I’ll snag a table.” Tommy scoped the place out and Cash headed to the bar.

  “Four Killian’s Reds.” Cash leaned on the bar and turned to look for Tommy. He spotted him leaning over a table of women in the back of the bar. He laughed to himself. Leave it to Tommy to zero in on the chicks despite having avoided Bart’s because of the waitress. Selective avoidance. He paid for the beers and snagged a table. Cash had no interest in making small talk with anyone tonight. He shrugged off his coat and settled into a seat to wait for Tommy.

  “Cash!”

  Goddamn it, Tommy. Tommy flagged him over to the table, where he was lowering himself to a chair between two women. Shit. He rubbed a knot tightening across the back of his neck and weighed his options. Ignore him. Sit with him and dodge questions all night about how big his hose is and if he was good at yielding his ax. Same old shit, different babe. He finished his beer and pushed the empty bottle aside. Ignoring Tommy was looking better by the second. His cell phone rang, and he pulled it from his jeans pocket. Chief Weber. Great.

  “Hey, Chief.” He rubbed his temples with his finger and thumb.

  “Hey, Cash. How you doing?”

  Cash had worked under Chief Jon Weber for the last eight years. He was a fair and honest man. Tough as nails and one of the most capable firefighters Cash had ever known.

  “Good, Chief. What’s up?”

  “We need to talk, Cash. When are you on again?”

  He knew his days were numbered. He had to get back in the game soon or he’d be out of a job. “Wednesday morning, nine to five; then I’m off till Friday at five.”

  “Great. My office. Eight?”

  “You got it, Chief.” Cash ended the call and ran his hand through his hair, eyeing Tommy, and wishing he’d get the hell back to the table so he could talk this shit out. All he had to do was get his head back into a safe place. Taking unnecessary risks on the job was bullshit. If he could quell the goddamn guilt that had swallowed him ever since he’d been blocked by that damn beam and dragged out of there before he could save Samuel, then…What the hell? Cash squinted across the bar at the woman climbing from a booth, her hand linked to some dude with longish hair and a tattoo on his neck. Siena. She dragged her hand over the shoulder of the dark-haired guy sitting at the end of the table. What the hell is she into? She headed toward the stairs that led to the bathrooms.

  Without thinking, he crossed the floor.

  “Cash, come here, man.”

  Cash ignored Tommy and followed Siena down the stairs. The delicious curves that he’d known were beneath her jacket last night, the ones he—and every other man on earth—saw in that goddamn Johnnie Walker ad, swayed seductively in front of him. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and pushed a button. Cash turned his back as she turned around.

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  Mmm. Her voice was sweet, friendly, nothing like she’d sounded when she’d been demanding to get to her car.

  “Yeah, I’m at NightCaps. I’m gonna have Dexy walk me home, but I’ll call you after I’m there. Will you be around? Yeah, I have some stuff I want to tell you before tomorrow.”

  Dexy? You’re ditchin’ the dude you’re with and then calling another? Damn. You’re worse than I thought. Cash had half a mind to turn around and call her on it.

  “’Kay. Cool. Okay, call you soon.”

  He heard the bathroom door open and he spun around, only to find himself eye to eye with Siena. A redhead, who had apparently been the one to open the bathroom door, pushed between them and headed up the stairs.

  “You.” She narrowed her eyes.

  There’s that angry voice again. Damn, she was hot, and he couldn’t stop picturing her in those pink panties she had on in the magazine. “Siena.”

  “Are you going to lecture me for drinking now, too?” She clutched her phone in her fist.

  If he didn’t stop picturing her in those panties, he was going to lose it. He closed the gap between them, his voice a heated whisper. “I saw your Johnnie Walker ad in that magazine.”

  She was breathing hard, and she smelled too fucking sweet.

  “Congratulations. So did about two million other people.”

  He couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from backing her up against the wall and shutting her up with a rough kiss on those gorgeous, pouty lips of hers. I’d like to tangle my fingers in your long hair and—

  “Siena.” Harsh. Clipped. The dark-haired guy who’d been sitting at the end of the table hustled down the stairs, his eyes locked on Siena.

  Cash knew a warning when he heard one. He took a step back.

  Siena rolled her eyes at the guy. His jaw was clenched tight, and as his booted feet met the floor beside Cash, Cash realized the guy had a couple inches on him.

  “Jack…”

  Jack?

  Jack’s thighs were as thick as tree trunks. He crossed his arms, his eyes darting from Cash to Siena.

  Fuck. There was only one thing Cash could do to defuse the situation. He held his hand out. “Cash Ryder.”

  Jack stared at his hand. “Siena?”

  “Jesus, Jack. This is the guy who rescued me from the accident last night.” She turned away.

  Jack’s clenched jaw eased. “The asshole fireman?”

  Siena glared at him.

  Asshole fireman? “That sounds like me,” Cash said. You were talking about me. He drew his shoulders back and sucked in a breath, then nodded at Jack and pushed his hand forward again. “Cash.”

  Jack shook his hand, both men angling for the strongest grip. Jack looked down at their hands at the same time Cash did, and they released their grips in unison.

  “I’m Jack. Thanks for getting her home safely,” Jack said.

  “It’s what I do.” Home? Who the hell are you? Her husband? He hoped Jack didn’t realize he practically had wood just being near her.

  “I appreciate it. I’ve had a talk with Siena. She’ll be prepared from now on.”

  Siena groaned. “Why don’t you two just finish your little date? I’m going to use the ladies’ room.” She pushed past Cash and stormed into the bathroom, mumbling under her breath.

  Between her boyfriend, husband, lover, or whoever he was and being close to Siena, Cash’s gut twisted and every nerve burned. He had to get the hell out of there. “Nice to meet you, Jack.” Cash took a step toward the stairs.

  Jack wrenched his arm. He narrowed his dark blue eyes and looked down his nose at Cash. “Thanks for all you do for the city. Your whole unit. We appreciate it.” He shook out a curt nod, then released his arm.

  Siena burst through the bathroom door. “Ugh. You’re both still here?” She pushed past them and stomped up the stairs.

  Cash waited for Jack to ascend the stairs before following him up. He had no idea what was going on, but clearly Siena had a line of men at her disposal, and he had no interest in being one of them—even if his body seemed to want to push its way up to the front of the line. He grabbed Tommy’s arm and dragged him to their table.

  “Dude, what the hell? Those girls were hot.”

  “Kelly?”

  “She’s not here.” Tommy picked up his beer and waved at the table of hungry women that were leering after him.

  Cash couldn’t tear his eyes from Siena even if he wanted to. The guy whose hand she’d been holding climbed from the booth and stood beside her. She hugged Jack, then the woman next to Jack, and then she hugged the other couple, whom he hadn’t even noticed before. Jack was obviously with the auburn-haired woman who had her finger hooked in his belt and a whopping diamond on her left hand. The tall, dark-haired guy in the gamer shirt whose hand she’d been holding draped an arm around Siena’s shoulder.

  “Isn’t that the model?” Tommy said as she approached.

  “Shut up,” Cash snapped. He eyed her as she passed, and he couldn’t help but size up the guy she was with.


  “That’s her brother. The gamer guy. What’s his name?” Tommy snapped his fingers. “Dex. Dex Remington. Crazy smart dude who sold a million PC games right out of college.”

  “Her brother? You’re sure?” He shot a look at the table again, wondering if the similarities between the other two men that were beginning to take shape were all in his head. “How many brothers does she have?”

  “Hell if I know.” Tommy finished his beer.

  Brother? If Tommy was right, then that answered one question, but she still had some guy on the line whom she was calling after she got home.

  “You’ve got that I’m-gonna-fuck-someone-up look on your face.” Tommy winced. “Oh, man, my stomach is killing me. I might need you to fill in for me tomorrow at that calendar shoot.”

  He was too tightly wound to think straight. Calendar shoot? Not a chance in hell.

  “No way.”

  Tommy winced. “Seriously, dude. I think we better get out of here. My gut is complaining big-time.”

  Cash downed his Killian’s and followed Tommy out, wondering if Siena had felt the same jolt of electricity between them that he had before Jack came down the stairs and trying to convince himself he didn’t care.

  Chapter Five

  “THIS IS MY favorite shoot of the year.” Willow Preacher adjusted the strap of her red bikini, then elbowed Siena. “All these hot firemen. Mmm-mm. Look at them. And there’s only you and me. No competition. Take your pick.”

  Top Models had been working with the local firehouses for the past two years for their holiday calendar shoots. Siena would bet they sold millions of the holiday calendars. Women loved hot, nearly naked firemen, and having female models in the shots with them always added a little lust, which translated steamily in the pictures. The firemen filed into the studio wearing nothing but their turnout pants, red suspenders hanging from their waists, their ripped, delicious bodies glistening under the heat of the studio lights. Siena would have to be blind for her heart not to beat a little harder at the sight of them. Her mind drifted to the sexy fireman who had rescued her. These weren’t pampered male models who were paid to look rugged, who spent hours with personal trainers and were artificially tanned. These were real men. She thought of the way Cash had taken control the night of her accident. He wasn’t the least bit frightened. He knew just what to do. Oh yeah, he was a real man. Rugged, hard, and devastatingly handsome.

 

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