Five Alarm Alphas

by Leah Braemel, Lexxie Couper, Delilah Devlin, Marie Harte, Desiree Holt, Lissa Matthews, Cari Quinn, Shelli Stevens

  FIVE ALARM ALPHAS

  Includes Eight Sexy Stories By:

  Leah Braemel

  Lexxie Couper

  Delilah Devlin

  Marie Harte

  Desiree Holt

  Lissa Matthews

  Cari Quinn

  Shelli Stevens

  eBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Five Alarm Alpha

  Copyright © 2014 by Leah Braemel, Lexxie Couper, Delilah Devlin, Marie Harte, Desiree Holt, Lissa Matthews, Cari Quinn, Shelli Stevens

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—accept in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission.

  Cover design by Kati Rodriguez / Romance Wrangler

  Cover photo by Hot Damn/The Killion Group, Inc.

  Table of Contents

  Feeding The Flames

  Combustible

  Wet Down

  Two To Spark

  Controlled Burn

  Up In Smoke

  Rekindled

  Into The Fire

  FEEDING THE FLAMES

  By Leah Braemel

  Copyright © 2014 by Leah Braemel

  All Rights Reserved.

  Contact: leah@leahbraemel.com

  Dedication

  With huge hugs and thanks to Tabatha Scott – cheerleader and beta reader extraordinaire, and chef of Tabatha’s Five Alarm Chili. A special thanks to Selena Robins—you rock! And hugs to Lexxie Couper – for being awesome.

  Chapter One

  Though some of the patrons of Twisted Tabby’s Diner thought Elvis or Buddy Holly should be crooning from the radio to match the fifties-style décor instead of the anachronistic Avenged Sevenfold currently playing, Zac Buchanan didn’t mind. Though he had no doubt his appreciation came from the sexy little dance being performed by the diner’s owner.

  Damn, when had little Tabatha Morgan grown up from a tomboy to a sexy, vivacious woman with curves in all the right places? The overhead lights glistened off the fancy hairdo she wore to match the diner’s style. The buttons of her white blouse strained to cover her full breasts when she leaned over the rack of cupcakes she was icing while grooving out to the music. It seemed like just last week she’d been tagging along after them, climbing trees, zooming across the countryside on ATVs.

  Now look at her. From the saucy light in her eyes to the lush lips painted in a shade of fire-engine red lipstick, talk about smokin’ hot. And he suspected sensual too. Though maybe it was just the way she was squeezing the icing bag. Man, he bet she could give one helluva good hand job.

  Tabatha glanced up—right at him, as if he was the only person in the diner—and a long string of icing spurted from the bag. A saucy smile on her face, she dipped a finger in the sugary confection that now coated the counter and swirled it. Lifted it to her mouth and, sweet Mother Mary, licked it in one long swipe. What would it be like to have that luscious tongue licking up the side of his cock, swirling over the tip? He bet she’d be just as sweet as that frosting.

  Shit, now he couldn’t get the image of her wearing only that sexy little pink retro apron she’d worn yesterday and a smile out of his head. Especially since he also pictured her legs wrapped around his waist as he buried himself within her warmth.

  He groaned and adjusted the fabric over the semi- rapidly turning to a full-on erection. This was Tabby. The kid who had helped her mother cater his parents’ parties. Who over the years had become a friend. A good friend.

  That wasn’t even mentioning her cooking, no pun intended. No one could claim the heading on the menu, proclaiming her five-alarm chili the best in the neighboring counties, was a lie.

  And, more importantly, she was his best friend’s secret fantasy.

  So he definitely should not be having carnal thoughts about her.

  The bell over the door rang. Shane Parker, the owner of a spread down the road from his, escorted his aunt to the corner booth at the front. Zac twisted in the booth to appreciate Tabatha from a different angle as the red and white polka dot skirt with its layers of crinolines swayed with each swing of her hips as she hurried to take menus to the new customers.

  When he shifted back to face Quinn, he found Quinn’s gaze also locked on Tabatha. Shit. Guess Quinn’s sister Val had been right about him wanting to ask Tabby out.

  If she’d been anyone else, if Quinn had been anyone other than his best friend, Zac wouldn’t have promised Val he’d give Quinn space to approach Tabatha first and wouldn’t even have considered what he was about to do. But it was Quinn, and it was Tabby. And they deserved nothing less than his friendship, his love and respect.

  Cursing the promise he’d made Quinn’s sister, he leaned forward and lowered his voice. “You know what? You should ask her out.”

  “What the fuck? You’ve been lusting after her since she moved back to town. Yet now you’re trying to set her up with me instead of asking her out yourself? What the ever lovin’ fuck’s going on with you?”

  “I saw how you looked at her, Q.”

  Before he could say anything more, Tabatha appeared at their table, coffeepot in hand. “Anything else I can get you two? Zac?”

  Tendrils of her thick, dark hair had escaped and curled around her ears. Up close her lips glistened in the overhead lights, begging to be kissed.

  “Zac?” she repeated.

  She’d probably dump the entire pot in his lap if she realized he was imagining her lips beneath his. Or around his cock.

  “Zac! Do you want more coffee?”

  Crap, he pulled himself out of his daydream and shook his head. “Nah, Thanks, Tab. I’ve had my limit of caffeine for the day.”

  “What is with you today? You’re acting like you need more caffeine, not less.” Her lips pursed, she turned to Quinn. “How about you? Do you need a fill-up?”

  “Thanks doll, but I’m good.” The idiot across from him pulled out his phone. Probably checking his email.

  Damn it, man. Look up from the damned phone and ask her out.

  The bell jangled, announcing another customer, yet Tabatha didn’t move. “How about a cinnamon bun? They’re fresh out of the oven.”

  Zac was torn between hope and relief when Quinn replaced his phone in its holster. Until he slid out from the booth with a mumbled, “No thanks. I gotta hit the head and get going. I just need the ticket.”

  Damn it, Q. Why can’t you see what’s right there in front of you? As Quinn disappeared down the back corridor, the light dimmed in both Tabatha’s smile and her hazel eyes. “Is it something I said? Or are you two havin’ a spat?” She made this clicking sound of disgust that all women seemed to learn at their mother’s knee. “Oh, let me guess, you bet him on last night’s Alabama-Ole Miss game and you won, didn’t you?”

  “Hey! I picked Ole Miss because Alabama always wins. It was supposed to be a sure thing.” Instead Ole Miss had walked all over the Crimson Tide in the fourth quarter. But who could have predicted that interception?

  She placed the coffeepot on the table, and then folded her arms across her chest. The movement pressed her breasts together. He closed his mouth at the creamy bounty threatening to spill over the edge of the fabric. “How much d’you take him for?”

  “Ten bucks, but it’s
not the game that’s bugging him.”

  “No? Then what else did ya do?”

  Wanted the same woman as his best friend? That usually created tension between two guys. “Usual crap. You know me.”

  “Whatever you did, apologize. It’s not that hard to do.” A hint of cinnamon wafted from her as she picked up the coffeepot again and repositioned it over his cup. “Are you sure you don’t want me to top you off?”

  Huh, she didn’t normally serve those fancy coffees. Ah, right, the cinnamon buns she’d been making.

  “Nah, I’m good.” Actually he was an asshole. Both to her, and to Quinn. But there was a way he could make his amends. It meant being sneaky and probably ticking Quinn—and Tabatha—off even more. “Listen, can you get Shannon to close for you Saturday?”

  Though Twisted Tabby’s had only been open six weeks, it had drawn crowds from the very first day. So many that she’d quickly had to hire extra staff but, of them all, her best friend Shannon Collins was also the only person Tabatha trusted to close up.

  She frowned but, from the way she’d zeroed in on him, he had her total attention. “Probably, why?”

  Zac took a deep breath. Shit, this was so not how he’d pictured asking her out on a date. He removed the concert tickets from his breast pocket and held them up. “I bought these tickets to the Dirt Road Graduates couple weeks ago. I just found out I have to drive my momma into Dallas for a meeting. I was thinking maybe you could ask Quinn to go with you.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire. He’d bought the tickets yesterday when he’d caught her dancing to one of DRG’s songs and had fully intended to ask her out himself. Until he’d caught Quinn ogling her and remembered that fucking promise.

  She cock her head to the side and planted a fist on her hip. “You want me to ask Quinn? Like out on a date?”

  “I guess you can call it whatever you want. Look, the thing is, he’s wanted to take you himself but he’s a bit cash strapped. You know how he gets about me paying his way.” That his family had money and Quinn’s hadn’t sometimes had been a real pain in the ass to Quinn’s ego. But Zac couldn’t fault the man for having some pride. “This way we can make it look like he’s doin’ you a favor.”

  “Quinn wanted to ask me out.” Doubt filled her voice.

  Jesus, what was so difficult to understand about the concept? Sure, he could have given Quinn the tickets, but Quinn wouldn’t have taken them, seeing the ruse for what it was. “Look, the truth is—” I want to take you out myself but I’m trying to do the right thing here “—the guy’s been sweet on you since high school but you were his little sister’s best friend and he figured it would be too weird. And then you got married and… well, now he’s not sure how to approach you. He’s afraid of maybe being a rebound date or something when he wants long term.”

  She hmmed. “You’re seeing things that aren’t there, Zac.”

  “No, I’m not. Seriously, Tab. He’s into you. Big time. Just ask him to go to the concert with you and see where it goes from there.” He’d have to leave it to Quinn to get past first base. Holy fuck did that image ever hurt—that Quinn might get a good night kiss. Or more. “If he says no, no harm, no foul, right? You can take another friend, or scalp the extra ticket if you want.”

  An ache formed in his chest. For all his pride, Quinn was no dummy—he’d snap her up in a heartbeat. Carry her to his bed and make her forget everything other than pleasure.

  If she agreed, he’d just lost the only woman he’d been interested in for years.

  Quinn appeared in the hallway. “Just ask him, will you? He’s too shy to ask you himself, and too pigheaded to accept the tickets from me.”

  “Quinn? Shy? Since when?”

  She had a point. Still… “Ask him.”

  “Ask who what?” Quinn slid back into the booth.

  Shooting Zac an exasperated look, Tabby faced Quinn. “Hotshot here tells me he bought tickets to the concert that he can’t use, so he’s given ’em to me. It’s Saturday night—you’re off duty for the weekend, right? What do you say? Do you want to go together?”

  Quinn stared at Zac, his brows lowered in suspicion. “I thought you were—”

  Beneath the table, Zac’s boot connected with Quinn’s shin in their classic “shut up and go with me, doofus” signal. “Something came up.”

  Yeah, Quinn really wasn’t buying it.

  “So do you want to keep me company or not?” Tabby persisted.

  Quinn’s jaw flapped a few times before he snapped it shut. “Yeah, I’ll go with you. No use letting the tickets go to waste.”

  “Fine.” She flicked a finger at his chest. “See you tomorrow night then. And thanks for the tickets, Zac. Jake Grady is dreamy.”

  Holy crap, if there wasn’t a table between them, from the look Quinn shot him, Zac might have feared for his balls.

  What the heck had just happened? Tabatha placed the coffeepot back into its station and glanced at the glass door where she kept the pastries. When they’d come in, she’d left it open at just the right angle that it reflected their images so she could watch them without them realizing it. A trick straight out of high school, but she wasn’t above it to keep an eye on the deadly duo, as her friend Shannon had once dubbed them. Though usually it was to ogle them, not to wonder what the heck they were up to.

  Why in hell would Zac buy tickets for the concert for her to ask Quinn out? Because that whole “I have to drive my mother into Dallas” was a total lie. She happened to know for a fact that Mrs. Buchanan was currently cruising the Caribbean with her book club buddies and wouldn’t be back until two days after the concert.

  According to the image in the pastry glass, Quinn was leaning over the table in what looked to be a heated argument with Zac. No surprise there. From the way he’d reacted, he’d been ambushed same as her.

  It’s not that she wouldn’t enjoy going with Quinn. He was a damned good looking guy, and nice to boot. His black Barnett Springs Fire Department T-shirt delineated every one of his muscles, the loose fit of his cargo pants didn’t come close to hiding the latent strength of his thighs. The EMT caduceus tattoo on his biceps peeked out from beneath his right sleeve and drew her eye to equally strong forearms. The shadows in his espresso-colored eyes, which had plagued him as a kid, had disappeared, replaced with a quiet but firm confidence. He’d be the type of guy any woman would be happy to have leave his boots under her bed.

  Any woman except her. If there was anyone she wanted to steam up her bedroom windows, it was the man opposite Quinn. Currently known as Idiot Number One. Or maybe Manipulator First Class suited him better. Zac Buchanan, with his chambray button down shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans that covered a very fine ass—yes, Tabby made a point to watch that particular derriere whenever it walked away from her. Her fingers had twitched the entire time she’d stood by his table, though she wasn’t sure if it was to smooth down the blond curls that stuck up in the humidity, or just to touch them. It was Zac who entered her imagination late at night, his warm palms cupping her breasts, rolling her nipples between thumb and forefinger. Dipping that beautiful full mouth lower, between her thighs.

  Confidence had never been a problem for Zac. Probably came from being part of a successful family—his parents lived in one of the nicest houses in town, even before Zac had renovated it.

  Ever since she’d returned to Barnett Springs and she’d caught him eyeing her ass on more than one occasion, her fantasies–and hopes that maybe, just maybe, he would finally ask her out–had soared. So when Zac had pulled out the tickets, she’d been certain he’d ask her to go with him.

  Talk about a wake-up call. Rejection had just stalked back into her diner and destroyed her dreams. Again.

  “It’s nearly two o’clock. Do you want to get Lissa’s coffees or do you want me to?”

  Tabatha started and glanced over her shoulder to find Shannon frowning at her. “Coffees?”

  “Yeah, Lissa’s going to be here any minute.” Only
two years older than Tabatha, Shannon was the epitome of efficiency and had a flare for keeping people content. Especially the grumpier ones who taxed Tabatha’s patience. She was also bawdy and funny and loved wearing T-shirts with naughty sayings on them.

  Today Shannon wore an “I Love Happy Endings” T-shirt. It had been a gift from a middle-aged customer who had purchased the shirt in New Orleans and proudly worn it into the diner the day after she returned. Poor Mrs. Buckland had been so embarrassed when Shannon informed her it had a totally different meaning from the romances she read, she’d bought one of the shirts Tabatha had ordered to promote her diner. Then she’d marched into the bathroom and changed, returned with the offending shirt in hand and told Shannon to use it as a dishrag for all she cared.

  Shannon tossed a sugar packet at her. “Earth to Tabatha. Are you going to help me or are ya just gonna stand there doing a china doll impression? Move it, Missy.”

  Crap. The 911 operator had exactly fifteen minutes to get from the call center to the diner and back with coffees for everyone.

  “You’re pretty bossy considering I’m your boss.” Not that she begrudged Shannon for calling her on her shit. Tabatha lined up the six to-go paper cups in a line and began filling them. “Sorry, I’m distracted today.”

  Shannon snorted. “Yeah, I saw you talking with Mr. Hot Shot over there. Make my day and tell me you grew a set and finally asked him out.”

  It had taken less than two days after her return to Barnett Springs for Shannon to call Tabatha on her Zac obsession. Tabatha sighed. “I don’t have to. He’s not interested in me.”

  “Come on, girl. I’m tired of your excuses about needing to get the diner up and running, and or how you need to get settled first. The diner’s doin’ fine, and from what I saw of your apartment, there’s not a box left to be unpacked. So it’s time for you to get off your ass, march yourself over there, and take the stud by the horn.” She eyed Zac. “Or with that man, by the long horn.”