Flames of Love

by Melissa Foster

  Siena raked her eyes down their bodies as they tossed the hoses, boots, and hard hats to the side, their muscles twitching and jumping beneath their taut skin. These men were out every day saving lives and fighting forces of nature so strong that it scared her to even think about it. There were a dozen of them there for the holiday calendar photo shoot, each more rugged than the next, and not one of them aroused her in the way that Cash did.

  “Oh my goodness, look at that guy who’s coming in.” Willow’s thick Caribbean accent hadn’t faded one bit since she came to the States and began modeling a year and a half ago, and with her dark skin and thick, wild ringlets, she looked like an exotic goddess.

  Siena lifted her eyes just in time to see Cash walk through the door. Holy crap. No way he’s modeling. His sexy dark eyes scanned the room, his jaw muscles working hard to keep the scowl on his handsome face.

  “Shit. That’s him.” Siena sucked in a breath at the sight of his naked bare chest, his olive skin stretched tight over hard muscle.

  “No way. That’s the asshole?” Willow placed her hand on Siena’s shoulder. “Honey, I don’t care how much of an attitude he has, you oughta redirect that anger into something useful, like hot, animalistic sex.”

  Siena couldn’t concentrate. How could she when his pants hung just low enough to reveal the curve of his abs where they sank below his hips and dipped toward the center in a sexy V as they traveled south? She felt her cheeks flush, and when he ran his hand through his dirty-blond hair and it fell, disheveled and sexy, over his brooding brown eyes, she was struck dumb. Every time she saw him, the attraction grew stronger. Last night had been like fighting her way back from a riptide when she’d walked away. How on earth am I going to make it through this?

  “Stop staring.” Willow laughed. “Siena! He’s watching you stare at him. C’mon, girlfriend. Someone needs to protect you from yourself.” Willow grabbed her arm and dragged her away.

  “Oh my God. He saw me staring? What is wrong with me?” Siena wanted to look over her shoulder, but she couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

  “He’s watching every step you take, so I’d say, yeah, he saw you.” Willow narrowed her eyes. “And he’s not smiling, so…”

  “What is wrong with me? I never ogle. Ogling is gross. And he’s a jerk.”

  “He’s definitely ogle worthy. And you could always kiss him until he can’t speak, or a silk tie might do the trick.”

  Siena gasped.

  “What? Just sayin’.”

  “Cash Ryder, Joe Arlen, Mike Shilling, I want you guys over here. Ladies, let’s get this show on the road,” the photographer, Trey Michaels, directed.

  Siena had worked with Trey enough to know that he was a no-bullshit photographer. There were photographers that would allow improvisations, jokes, and even banter between the models and the photographer’s assistants, but not Trey. Trey was a forty-something straight shooter. His ponytail and rail-thin, cotton-clad body gave the impression of a guy whose life was full of nothing but chilling out and maybe smoking a little weed. That couldn’t have been further from who he was. Trey was known for his risqué photo shoots, and despite his laid-back appearance, he was a professional who demanded respect from not only his assistants, but the models as well. When he spoke, everyone listened and acted. Immediately. Siena stood up straight, pulled her shoulders back, and prayed she could get through the shoot without a scene. She avoided looking at Cash, whose dark glare was burning a hole right through her.

  “Where would you like us?” Siena asked, hoping her elevated pulse wasn’t noticeable in her too-fast speech.

  “Siena, you here.” He pointed to an area behind Cash. Shit. She moved into position and looked down at him with what she hoped was an equally harsh glare.

  He shifted his eyes to her, his chiseled, clean-shaven jaw clenched tight.

  “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “Me either.” His voice was deep, gravelly, sexy…and ice-cold.

  Jesus. That goddamn voice. Every muscle in her body tensed. Crap. Calm, calm. Ocean breeze. Babies. Flowers. She had to be in the zone to model, and his being there was totally throwing her off her game. Trey would be pissed if she couldn’t find her groove.

  “Cash, on one knee, ax in your left hand, and I want Siena pulled in tight, her hip at your jawline and your right hand reaching around the back of her legs.”

  Great. Intimate positioning with the iceman. Siena maneuvered around him. Pretend he’s someone else. She closed her eyes just long enough to envision the Ralph Lauren model she’d worked with two weeks ago. A smile lifted her lips, and in the next breath her eyes were open and she was following directions like the professional she was known to be.

  “Closer, Siena.”

  She inched closer. His face was right next to her left hip, radiating heat like an oven.

  “That’s it. Now, Cash, get in there like you can’t get close enough.” Trey motioned with his hand as Cash moved closer. His hard, muscled shoulder brushed against Siena’s thigh, knocking her just enough that she had to hang on to him to remain stable on her stilettos.

  He looked up at her and grimaced, his dark eyes narrowing again.

  She took her hand off of him as fast as she could. Asshole.

  “Good. Good. Now, Willow, over here.” Trey positioned the others while Siena and Cash held their positions.

  Siena could hold a pose for hours if she had to. It was one of the reasons photographers requested her so often. She had approached modeling the same way her father had taught her to approach everything in life. Be better than everyone else. Stronger. Smarter. More worthy of the next step in your career. There was a method to her father’s madness, and it had served her well. Between her determination, intelligence, and her confidence, she wasn’t easily manipulated by peer pressure or questionable financial advice. She kept the reins tight on her spending, so even if her career ended tomorrow, she’d earned enough—and saved enough—to be financially secure living off of just the interest of what she’d already earned.

  Cash bumped against her thigh, and she gasped a breath, reaching for his shoulder again, then thought twice about it and stumbled backward instead.

  Trey shot her a dark stare. “Problem?” He raised his brows.

  “No. Just…off-balance. I’m sorry.”

  Cash looked over his shoulder and smirked.

  Two can play at this game.

  Willow caught her eye and knitted her brows together in two quick repetitions. The rest of her body remained perfectly still. Model code for, What the fuck are you doing? He’ll make this miserable for us. Cut it out.

  Siena widened her eyes and shot a glare down at the edgy man in front of her.

  Willow rolled her eyes.

  After an hour of shooting as a group, Trey gave them a two-minute break. Siena steered clear of Cash, drinking ice water through a straw, while the makeup artist touched up her foundation.

  Siena narrowed her eyes in Cash’s direction and said to Willow, “If you don’t keep that ass away from me, I’m going to say something I shouldn’t.” He and the other firemen patted one another’s backs and flexed their biceps as if they were competing with one another. Neanderthals. She remembered Jack’s comment and cringed. We get angry, and we get ornery, and we act like Neanderthals when we’re challenged. He was nothing like her brothers.

  Willow rested a hand on Siena’s shoulder and leaned in close. “I swear when Trey positioned you near the black-haired guy, Mike, Cash was drinking you in like tequila.” Willow wiggled her shoulders seductively. “I like that one. The one with the thick waist—a waist I can hang on to—and the brown hair. Joe. Baby, Joe could put my fire out any day of the week.”

  “Ugh.” Siena couldn’t wait to get out of the shoot and away from Cash. She was tense. Her muscles hurt from arching her back and craning her neck, and her feet were burning from the stilettos.

  “Okay, now we’re going one-on-one,” Trey ann
ounced.

  “Lucky you,” Willow teased. “Cash looks like Bradley Cooper, so suck it up and pretend it’s Bradley. Man, what I wouldn’t do for a night with Bradley. You know, if you close your eyes and pretend…”

  I thought the same thing when I met him.

  “Hard to do when he acts like Mel Gibson.”

  Chapter Six

  CASH WAS STILL reeling from seeing Siena in the bar last night and wiped out from staying up half the night wondering who the hell she called after Dexy walked her home. There was a reason Cash never volunteered for this promotional shit. He hated everything about it, from the stupid poses to the idea that women bought the damn calendar to stare at pictures of his buddies, like firefighters were slabs of meat instead of the toughest guys around, risking their lives to save others, with more important shit to worry about than how they looked. Hell, if those women took one look at them after a rescue, they’d see their faces black with soot and tense with stress. Not so pretty then, are we? And now they’d be looking at him on the stupid calendar, too. That made him no better than Siena in her pink fucking panties. Goddamn Tommy. Tommy was up feeling sick all night, and if Cash didn’t pitch in, they’d have only eleven guys for the shoot. He’d do just about anything for Tommy. Now he was stuck modeling with Siena fucking Remington. One of the most sought-after—and from what he could see, stuck-up—models in the city. Within the first five seconds of seeing her, Cash had decided to ignore her, but there was no ignoring Siena Remington. Every goddamn pose was seductive as hell. From the first second they’d been positioned together, his nerves had knocked him off-kilter, and he’d knocked right into her. Twice. She looked at him like he should bow down to her. Fuck that. Cash Ryder didn’t bow down for anyone who hadn’t earned their position in life the hard way—through hard work and dedication. And he certainly wasn’t about to cater to some spoiled model who had no idea what real life was all about.

  “Siena, Cash.” Trey pointed to the door to the stairwell. “Grab the hose, hat, and boots,” Trey yelled to an assistant.

  What the hell? He followed the photographer through the heavy door.

  “Cash, pull those trousers down a bit. I want to be so close to the danger zone my lens is smokin’.” Trey tugged on Cash’s pants.

  Cash fought the urge to smack the photographer’s hand away from his pants, if only to keep from also snapping at Siena, whose eyes were locked on him. Holy hell, she was making him nervous, and that pissed him off.

  “Siena. On the steps. Darling…” Trey pointed to the jeans-clad assistant who carried a hard hat and boots. “Hat, boots,” he barked to an assistant, then he pointed to Siena. “Where’s my hose?” he snapped at his staff.

  The assistant helped Siena out of her stilettos and into the fireman boots; then she put the hard hat on her and it slid right down over her eyes. She looked crazy adorable, pulling a reluctant smile from Cash’s lips, which he quickly tamped down to a sneer.

  Siena stood with her arms a few inches from her body, allowing the assistants to adjust her bikini, shimmy the top of the boots around a bit, and then angle the hat so her eyes— Holy shit. She had gorgeous, sea-blue eyes. How had he missed those before?

  Trey positioned her on a lower step, with Cash stretched out on his back along the concrete stairs. What the hell did a fireman need to lie across steps for? If he were knocked on his ass in a rescue, he sure as hell wouldn’t want to have a photo taken. This was why he hated this shit.

  Trey took Siena’s hand and led her up to a higher step; then the assistant wrapped the hose between Siena’s legs and she held it like a python above Cash’s chest. From his angle on the stairs, he couldn’t help but look right at the underside of her full breasts, which stretched the material of her tiny, red bikini top, pulling it away from her torso and revealing a sliver of the flawless, milky skin of her breasts.

  Siena was totally focused on the directions of the photographer, as if Cash didn’t exist at all. Her long brown hair wasn’t terribly thick and hadn’t been overly styled for the shoot. It cascaded naturally over her shoulders and down to the middle of her back. Cash was hyperaware of every inch of her long, lean legs beside him, her curvaceous hips, and her slim waist, which he suddenly longed to wrap his hands around and pull toward him. Holy hell, what am I doing? He felt a tightening in his groin and knew he was in deep shit. He shifted his eyes to the wall. Ugly Betty. Ugly Betty. Ugly Betty. Shit. It wasn’t working.

  “That’s too stiff,” Trey snapped.

  Fuck.

  Trey grabbed the hose and repositioned it over Siena’s shoulder. “Better. Siena, lean over him and stick your butt out.”

  Siena did as she was told, bending at the waist. Her hair tumbled onto Cash’s face, sending all sorts of erotic thoughts through his mind.

  “Sorry,” she said, making no move to clear her hair from his face.

  “Arch,” Trey commanded.

  Cash watched her ass inch up, her back sink down.

  “More,” Trey coaxed. “Eh. Eh. Perfect!”

  Cash heard him move by his feet and click off a few shots. “Darling, come sweep her hair. I need to see Cash’s face.”

  The assistant carefully placed Siena’s hair over both shoulders and down her back, giving Cash a clear shot of her cleavage. Fuuuuck.

  Click. Click. Click.

  “Cash, look at her like you want to bed her.”

  “What?” Crap. He knew that look, and he was damn good at it, but doing it on demand—and to her?

  “We’ve got a rise. Hurry up. This is a great shot.” Trey dropped his eyes to Cash’s formidable erection.

  “Shit.” Cash narrowed his eyes and looked at Siena; embarrassment deflated his arousal.

  “Siena,” Trey said with a sigh. “Show him. Hot. Sexy. I want to fuck your brains out.”

  Without a word, she slid her eyes to Cash and locked them, half-mast, on his. Her lips stuck out just a little, as if she were going to pucker and stopped short, and then they parted just enough for her tongue to run slowly in between.

  Holy fuck. Erection in full bloom—and totally forgotten—Cash couldn’t pry his eyes from hers. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard the camera, noticed the adjustments to the lighting, heard Trey’s voice, but none of it registered. And when Siena lowered her body along the steps and slid her leg over his, then her hand along his chest, the skin-to-skin contact had him reaching for her.

  “What are you doing? He didn’t tell you to do that,” she snapped.

  “What?” His eyes darted to Trey, standing on a step beside him, looking down through the camera. Well, fuck me. Now she’d completely thrown him off-kilter, stolen his ability to think clearly, and pissed him off to boot.

  FIVE HOURS OF shooting wasn’t that long in modeling terms, but five hours of shooting with full-body contact, with an experienced, arrogant firefighter who for some stupid reason had Siena’s body craving his touch, was exhausting and titillating at the same time, rendering Siena beyond frustrated. She’d worked with the hottest male models around. She’d been on the arm of the real Bradley Cooper, and never had her body burned as white-hot as it had in the stairwell.

  In the dressing room, she zipped her jeans and slipped into her tight V-neck T-shirt, forgoing her sweater. She was still too damn hot.

  Willow wiggled into her dress. She always wore dresses, while Siena tended toward jeans. She watched Willow’s ass as she fixed her hair in the mirror, and she cast a look over her shoulder at her own ass and wondered if Cash thought she had a nice one. Oh my God. I have to stop thinking about him. She needed a distraction. She eyed Willow.

  “How do you get that curve at the top of your butt? Mine is so flat.” Siena reached a hand out.

  “Wanna feel it? It’s like being pregnant; everyone wants to touch.” Willow laughed. “You can’t get this real estate at the gym. You gotta be born with it.”

  “Jeez, that’s awesome.”

  “Turn around.” She held up her index fing
er and moved it in a circle.

  Siena did, looking in the mirror over her shoulder.

  “Girl, you have a fine ass. What are you worried about?” Willow put on lipstick and smacked her lips. “Besides, Cash, Mike, and Joe were totally into you. Did you notice that some of those other guys barely said two words?” She didn’t give Siena time to answer. “Mike, Joe, and I are heading over to NightCaps. Do you guys want to go relieve some tension?”

  Siena washed her face and patted it dry. “Are you referring to me and Cash? We’re not a you guys.”

  “Whatever. You know what I mean.”

  “I want to hang with you, but I’m not sure I can take sitting with Cash for ten minutes, much less all night. Besides, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would want to go hang out. He seemed like he was hating every second of the shoot.” She thought of him reaching for her on the stairs. Well, almost every second.

  “Come on.” Willow grabbed their purses and pulled Siena out the door. “You never know how he’ll be when he loosens up.”

  Siena didn’t believe he knew how to loosen up, but she couldn’t quite pull the words No thanks from her lungs.

  Outside the studio, Willow and Joe piled into a cab. “We’ll meet you there,” Willow said as she closed the door with a wink.

  Great.

  Cash stood beside her with a scowl on his face. “Guess we’re sharing a cab.”

  “Whatever.” This was a big mistake. “I can’t believe you’re even going.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that you seemed like you couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

  He clenched his jaw and flagged down a cab. As they climbed in, he said, “Perceptive, but only partially right.”