The next few shoots went well, but when it came time for Mr. October, he was nowhere to be found.
“Have you seen Mr. October?” she asked Quinn. If anyone would know if he’d checked in, it would be her. She’d even taken it upon herself to help with their makeup, smearing soot and grease on their bodies to get the most authentic shots possible. “Name’s Johnson.”
“Johnson?” Quinn tilted her head thoughtfully. “Nope. Haven’t seen any big Johnsons yet.”
Becca rolled her eyes. Great. They only had a few hours of natural light left. There was no time for delays. Maybe she could rework the schedule. She grabbed her planner, flipping through the pages with headshots of all the models and her notes on what poses and backdrops each would get. October was National Fire Prevention Month, so it was important to the FDNY. She’d just have to circle back on that one. If she adjusted the lights and the guys helped her—
The warehouse door banged shut, the sound reverberating through the cavernous space.
“Nice of you to join us,” she muttered, shifting her attention to the newcomer who was strutting across the warehouse like he owned the place.
“He can check my smoke detector any day,” Quinn said, sidling up next to her. “If that’s Johnson, he was well worth the wait.”
“No,” she replied, her blood pressure spiking. “That is Jackson Hart.” What the hell was he doing here? She silently cursed Christopher for bringing up the shoot at dinner. The last thing she needed was Jax inserting himself in her life whenever he pleased. “And steer clear. He’s trouble.”
“You don’t say?” Quinn asked, checking him out with an appraising eye.
“This is a closed set,” Becca called, turning her back on him and fixing her attention on her notebook. The words swam before her eyes, but at least she didn’t have to face Jax.
“I’m your new Mr. October.”
“What? Why?” She dropped her pen, blood roaring in her ears. No way was she shooting Jax. Without a shirt. Slathered up in whatever grease and soot and sexiness Quinn could wipe all over him to make the ladies swoon. “Where’s my Mr. October?”
“Something came up.” He smirked, and damn if she didn’t want to wipe that grin off his face. “You want a Mr. October, I’m it.”
“You?” No. Freaking. Way.
“Unless you have another option?” he asked, widening his stance as if to challenge her. “You want to turn in a calendar without Mr. October, by all means, you’re the photographer. But I don’t think the FDNY will be real happy.”
Stupid jerk had a point, but she’d eat hot coals before admitting it. “Fine. You want to be Mr. October so bad? Let’s do this.”
“Don’t worry, shortie. I can handle it.” He arched his brow and crossed his arms over his chest, sizing her up. “Are you sure you can?”
“Sugar, don’t you worry about us. We’re going to take good care of you,” Quinn promised, patting his arm demurely. When she hooked her arm through his and led him over to the dressing area, Becca saw red.
Sucking in a deep breath, she willed her heart rate to slow. So Jax was on her set. Big deal. She was a professional. And this was a paying job. She’d shoot whoever the FDNY sent, and she’d do it well. Keep your enemies close and all that nonsense. Busying herself with her camera, she tried—unsuccessfully—to block out the sounds of Jax and Quinn cavorting not twenty feet away.
They were all adults. She didn’t give a damn what he did. Although it would be nice if he didn’t rub her face in it. You know, since just days ago he’d been ravishing her body. But whatever. It just reaffirmed her decision to end things before they got out of hand.
Once a player, always a player.
When Quinn returned to her side, wiping her hands on a rag, Becca couldn’t help but ask, “Having fun?”
Quinn tossed the soiled rag on the worktable and shrugged. “He looked familiar. I was trying to figure out how I knew him.” Becca froze. “Then I remembered. I saw him at Stout a few weeks back. You remember? The Rangers fans?”
Busted.
Damn Quinn’s investigative mind. The woman wrote a lot of human interest pieces because she had a flair for the dramatic, but only a fool would assume it was due to lack of talent.
“So exactly how close did you get to Mr. October?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows. “Please tell me you took a spin on his pole. That man is fine.”
Flames shot up the back of her neck, burning her cheeks.
“Oh my God, you did!” Quinn squealed. “How was it?”
“Shh! Keep it down,” she pleaded, risking a glance at Jax, who was stepping into his turnout gear. The muscles in his back rippled when he tugged his boots, putting her body on full alert. “Amazing. But then I kicked him out.” She paused. “Naked.”
Quinn’s face went blank. The corner of her mouth quivered. “Kind of awkward he’s here then, isn’t it?”
“Not really helping, Quinn.”
“What did you expect?” she asked, completely matter-of-fact. “Mercury is in retrograde.”
Becca narrowed her eyes at the other woman. This was no time for astrological mumbo jumbo.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Quinn crossed her arms, taking a defiant stance. “Everyone knows pandemonium ensues when Mercury is in retrograde. Hell, I lost my keys yesterday and had to scale the fire escape like a ninja. Not sure what it says about my window locks that I can pop them with a credit card, but please tell me that man is going to make it past three dates?”
“Three dates? Not a chance,” she scoffed, considering Jax’s resourcefulness. How many strings had he pulled to be here today? It didn’t matter. The three-date rule was there for a reason, not only to protect her heart, but also her sanity. She sucked at fourth dates. They always ended in disaster. Always. Like that time she’d made dinner for Matt and he’d gone into anaphylactic shock. Not exactly the best way to find out your date is allergic to peppers. No, fourth dates were bad luck, and she had more than enough of that in her life already. Besides, Jax wasn’t even getting one date. “He’ll be lucky to make it through today’s shoot.”
…
Jax fastened his pants and dropped the suspenders, leaving them dangling at his sides like Quinn suggested. The pants hung low on his hips, revealing the cut of his abs, which she’d said would make the ladies crazy. Assuming that included Becca, he was all in. Hell, he was still fantasizing about her hands exploring his body, and he needed more time with her to make those fantasies a reality.
The photo shoot seemed like the perfect opportunity for face time. She’d have no choice but to talk to him. Only the joke was on him. Glancing around the warehouse, he took note of all the apparatus the guys had brought in. He’d assumed she’d be shooting them in some small, intimate studio where he could exercise his powers of persuasion. Not once had he considered anything this elaborate, or a set with this many people milling about. He was way out of his league, but no way in hell would he admit it to Becca. Besides, he had the easy job, right? Just flex and smile. That’s what the guys told him, anyway.
“Let’s get this over with,” Becca grumbled, waving for him to get on the makeshift set. Tension rolled off her body like waves lapping at the Brighton Beach shoreline. He could think of a few ways to help her relax, if only she’d let him.
“Is this how you welcome all your models?” he asked, crowding her behind the camera as she fiddled with the tripod.
“Just the ones who insist on calling me ‘shortie’ and know dessert is my kryptonite,” she returned, her tone light, as if she were smiling.
“What’s wrong with dessert?” he asked, his lips brushing her ear. “I like a woman who’s not afraid to eat dessert.”
She sighed and lowered her face to the camera, peering through the lens. “You do understand this won’t work unless you’re in front of the camera, right?”
“But the view is so much better from back here.”
That got her attention. She straightened her spine
and turned to face him. “What are you doing here, Jax?”
“I figured it was the only way to talk to you. About the other night,” he explained, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his pants, doing his best to look at ease when he felt anything but. He hated being out of control, and being around Becca put him on edge. “You didn’t really think we were done, did you?”
Smirking, she looked him up and down. “You mean after I sent your naked ass packing? Yeah, I really did. You’re mistaken if you thought differently.” She lifted her chin, the hard set of her jaw telling him everything he needed to know. Despite her nonchalant attitude, he was under her skin. “And crashing my set? Not cool.”
“What?” He leaned in close, their cheeks nearly touching as he whispered in her ear. “Disappointed Mr. October couldn’t make it? Sorry about that. But I’ll tell you what—after the other night? After I licked that sweet little body of yours? The only man I want you thinking about is me.”
She gasped, her breath coming hard and fast.
That was better. He needed her off balance, not lost in her head where everything was black and white, right or wrong. Better to set her on fire and have her careening out of control.
“My interest is strictly professional,” she countered, cocking her hip.
“You haven’t taken your eyes off me since I set foot in this warehouse, so you’ll forgive me for saying it sure doesn’t feel strictly professional. By the way, I think you’ve got a little something”—he rubbed his thumb across her chin as if wiping away drool—“right there.”
“What I meant, you jackass, was how did you do it?” There it was, that wild look in her eye. “The models were selected months ago.”
“Yeah, well, after that little stunt with the radio station, the guys in the company were happy to help me convince Mr. October to retire so I could take his spot.”
“Lovely.” She rolled her eyes, dismissing him. “We need to get started. We’re burning daylight, and I haven’t eaten all day. If you can rein in your ego and take a little direction, we should be able to get this done pretty quickly.”
“When it comes to you and me,” he said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “I will always take my time.”
Chapter Eight
Jax thought he could strong-arm his way into her life? Well, they’d just see about that, wouldn’t they? Maybe it was time the man had his ego knocked down a few pegs. She glanced at her watch. They weren’t that tight on time. Then again, did she dare screw around on the job?
When he flashed her that panty-dropping grin of his, the one she was sure he’d used on scores of women, the one he probably thought would land him front and center in the calendar, the decision was easy.
“How do you want me?”
On your knees and begging.
Since that was unlikely to happen, she gave him a smile so sweet it practically sent her into sugar shock. “I’d like try something a little different for National Fire Prevention Month. You can go ahead and put your shirt back on.”
“Are you serious? There is nothing okay about asking that man to put his shirt back on. Look at those lust handles!” Quinn pointed at the cut of his hips. “Well, I guess I don’t need to tell you.”
“If you’re not helping, you’re in the way,” Becca reminded her friend with a wicked grin. “Can you go grab Hot Dog from the back?”
When Quinn grudgingly returned with the Dalmatian costume, she handed it off to Jax with a disclaimer. “I do this under extreme protest.”
“What?” Becca asked, striving for innocence. “Hot Dog is the FDNY mascot. He’s integral to fire safety education throughout the city. It’s perfect for Mr. October.”
Mr. November and Mr. December seemed to share her amusement, snickering at Jax’s predicament.
“Anything for the FDNY.” Jax slipped into the costume without protest, owning it like he did everything else. It was like the man had an endless supply of confidence. “Besides, women love dogs. I’ll bet I get just as many likes as those studs over there.”
“Sure, as long as you remember not to hump their legs,” Becca returned, adjusting the lights. “Okay, let’s get a few shots of you by the truck.”
Much to her annoyance, he did everything she asked, no matter how ridiculous. And damn if he didn’t look good doing it, which Quinn was too happy to point out when she wasn’t complaining about what a mistake it was to cover up such a fine specimen. The only time her friend expressed favor was when he got down on all fours.
Finally, Becca gave up, opting for a few traditional shots in his turnout gear. They all knew she wasn’t actually going to submit the pictures with Hot Dog anyway. At her direction, Jax grabbed an ax and swung it over his shoulder, looking hotter than hell in the process. With the smoke machine blowing and the light sheen of sweat he’d developed wearing the fur suit, he’d be melting hearts all over the city.
With one notable exception.
“Try not to look so cocky,” she instructed, adjusting her lens as he posed, the sculpted muscles of his pecs and delts drawing her eye as he swung the ax.
“I’m a FDNY firefighter. It kind of comes with the territory.”
“Wow. That’s deep. Do you actually need a hose to put out fires?” she asked, dropping her camera. “Because from where I’m standing your ego looks big enough to smother any flame it comes in contact with.”
He flexed and continued goading her. “Don’t judge a book by its cover.”
“What cover?” She snorted. “You’re parading around here half naked like Chippendale’s finest.”
“Damn straight!” Quinn chimed in with a giggle.
Becca shot her a dark look.
“Just doing my duty.” Jax winked at her and climbed up the truck’s ladder. Strutting around bare-chested and sweaty, he was to-die-for scrumptious against the backdrop of a flame wall. Talk about unfair. “Seriously, though. You do know this calendar is about more than twelve months of hot firefighters, right? The proceeds will fund fire education and safety programs, as well as provide assistance to families in need.”
Ignoring him, Becca snapped away on her camera. She just needed to get the shot. No matter what she said or did, he was going to look good, and it was her reputation on the line. Why did the man have to be so damn sexy? Or self-assured, for that matter? He was infuriating. And of course the stupid camera loved him. As far as she could tell, Jax didn’t have a bad side. Which was ridiculous, because everyone had a bad side.
Everyone.
Except Jax, apparently.
Her stomach growled, reminding her that she was starving. Exhausted, too. It had been a long day, and all she wanted to do was go home and take a long soak in the tub after eating the biggest, greasiest burger she could get her hands on. She’d grab takeout on the way home. Judging by her stained T-shirt, there was no way she could actually eat-in. Not unless she wanted to risk looking like a vagrant, anyway. Maybe hunger was screwing with her judgment, too, because once again she was wrestling feelings of guilt over what she’d done to Jax. She had to give him credit, though. The man did not give up. Still, he was just the sort of here today, gone tomorrow guy she hated. Despite everything he’d done to convince her otherwise, she knew what kind of man he really was. Didn’t she?
…
Jax grabbed his carryout order and made the short drive back to the warehouse. He still wanted to talk to Becca, and if burgers couldn’t entice her to give him ten minutes of her time, nothing would. The woman was stubborn as hell. What she didn’t understand—yet—was that no matter what she did to put distance between them, he wouldn’t give up. It wasn’t in his nature. It was one of the things that made him so good at his job. And with the fire blazing between them? It was just a matter of time until she came around.
The set was dark when he returned, and most of the crew had left. Quinn passed him on her way out the door, eyeing the carryout bag.
“Good luck.” She grinned, not the least bit sympathet
ic. “You’re going to need it.”
At least he hadn’t missed Becca. That was a good start. Dropping the bag on the table, he went to work cleaning up some of her supplies. He knew better than to touch her equipment, but anything non-mechanical felt like fair game. Wherever she was, she’d be back eventually. He just hoped she’d bring her appetite.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, the heels of her boots clicking on the cement as she crossed the open space, stopping when she reached the table. She sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?
“Burgers. I brought dinner. I thought we could talk.”
She eyed the Shake Shack carryout bag. “I’m not hungry.”
Her stomach growled.
“Liar.”
Crossing her arms, she tried another obvious lie. “Okay, fine. I’m hungry, but I have no interest in talking.”
“Suit yourself. That just means there’s more for me.” He opened the bag and pulled out a burger. Tearing back the white wrapper, he took a big bite and groaned. “Now, this is a cheeseburger. They don’t make them like this in Boston. You sure you don’t want one?”
Sighing, Becca put her hand out for a burger. “Fine. But no talking. I’m too tired to think. It’s been a long day.”
He fished her burger and two shakes from the bag, leaving the fries for last.
“When did you get into photography?” he asked, curious to know more about her passion. “I didn’t know you had an interest.”
She bit into the burger, chewing it thoroughly and taking her time to respond. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me. Time and distance will do that.”
Walked right into that one, hadn’t he? Perhaps he just hadn’t asked the right question. “Is it a hobby or is it something you aspire to do full-time?”
“I picked up my first camera at fifteen,” she said, staring at him pointedly. Meaning after he left town. Maybe something good had come of his departure after all—not that he’d be stupid enough to voice that thought. “Haven’t put it down since. I’ve got degrees in Communication and in Fine Arts from Brooklyn College, but it’s much easier to find a desk job than it is to make it as a photojournalist.” She shrugged. “I’ll get there eventually. The calendar is a great stepping-stone to get my work out there. Until then, I’ll enjoy my time at Garden of Dreams and take freelance jobs when I can get them.”
Seducing the Fireman (Risky Business) Page 6