Blaze: A Firefighter Romance

by Lisa Lace

  JORI

  We had our first fight three days later.

  It took longer than I expected. I thought we'd be at each other's throats on the first day due to sexual frustration. To keep my cool, I worked out like a demon and stayed away from her as much as I could. I wondered how I was going to do this for an entire year. We had to live together. The parole board was never going to believe our marriage was happy unless we cohabitated.

  The fight happened late in the evening. It was another hot night, and Sam was reading on the couch. Her presence wasn't a problem. Her clothing drove me insane.

  She had on a pair of cute blue shorts that barely covered her butt, a T-shirt that was tight enough to display ample breasts, and she wasn't wearing a bra. Why did she bring clothes like this from Earth? She should have brought clothes that were too large for her.

  When I walked in the door, coming back from another run to cool my libido, the first thing I saw was her chest. My eyes locked on to that part of her body, probably because I couldn't stop thinking about them.

  "Hi Jori," she said, getting up off the couch and going into the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water and came back and sat down.

  I didn't think "Hi Jori" could sound seductive, but Samantha was able to drip sex into her voice. My plan to ignore her body wasn't working. When I looked at her, appearing so damn sexy without even trying, I snapped.

  "Sam," I said. I barked her name, and she jumped.

  "What's the matter with you?" she said. Her eyes flashed with anger. She looked at me as if I had grown horns. "What's your problem?"

  "What's my problem?" I asked, pacing back and forth in front of her. "You're breaking rule number one."

  She rolled her eyes. "There are too many damn rules," she said. "And I'm not breaking any of them. Rule number one is no sex with anyone. I am currently not having sex with anyone. I would know. How am I in violation?"

  "Okay, okay," I said, backing off a little. "Then rule number one requires another amendment if I'm going to stay rational for this year."

  "Really," she said, looking at me with a challenge in her eyes. "What's that?"

  "You have to stop wearing those tiny outfits."

  "You can't tell me what to wear," she said, looking at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was. "It's summer on a tropical planet. We're in the Southern Isles, the warmest part of the globe. It's hot here, Jori. I'm not going to put on a snowsuit, no matter how much my body distracts you."

  He blushed. "What's a snowsuit?" he asked, confused by my Earth reference.

  "It's a thick one-piece coat that covers you from neck to ankles and keeps you warm in cold weather."

  "No way," he said. His face was shocked.

  "You have no idea how good you have it on this planet, Jori. You should see winter back where I come from."

  "We're getting off topic, Sam."

  Did I have a reason that made sense? Why shouldn't she wear clothes like that?

  "It's hot, Jori. This is my home too, isn't it? I should be able to wear whatever I want."

  "But you're not wearing a bra," I said. My weak voice sounded feeble to my ears. Damn it. I was supposed to be a husband. I was supposed to dictate the rules of the house to her.

  Something wasn't working here.

  "If I don't want to wear a bra, I don't have to. No law restricts my clothing inside the home. Or is there such a law?"

  "No, there's not a law," I said, clenching my teeth together. "But give this Vandwan a break, Sam. I'm going crazy."

  I felt my shoulders slump. The past three days had been difficult. How was I ever going to abide by rule number one?

  "Jori, I'm sorry about that, but it's hot and I'll wear whatever I want. It's your stupid edict," she said, glancing at my bare chest. I had taken off my shirt on the stairs. Running warmed me up enough so I couldn't bear the small amount of fabric on my body.

  She was right. It was sweltering, and we were in the middle of a heat wave. I shouldn't expect her to conform to a non-sexy dress code. Besides, she made old T-shirts and faded jeans look sexy, and I couldn't make her wear bags for a year.

  She stood up and stalked over to me. She moved into my personal space and got in my face.

  "You made the rule," she said, and I imagined that I felt her nipples brushing my chest. Surely she wasn't that close. "You live with it."

  I inhaled and caught a whiff of an unusual scent. I had seen bottles of essential oils in her room when I helped her with the window. The scent was alluring, but I didn't want to move. I was afraid if I did, I'd grab her and steal a kiss. I imagined it would end up with her on her back and her legs wrapped around me.

  I drew in a shaky breath and tried to erase the image from my mind. My brain had painted a picture that I couldn't forget. She smiled faintly and stepped back.

  "I'm going to bed," she said. "Sleep well."

  "Good night," I croaked out. I watched her silently, remaining completely still until her perfect ass swayed into the bathroom.

  When she disappeared from my sight, I gave myself permission to move. It was impossible for me to pounce on her now. It had been a mistake to get her upset. She might dress more provocatively now. It didn't matter what she wore. She would be sexy in a sack.

  I heard the bathroom door open and the door to her room close, giving me an opportunity to use the bathroom without encountering her. I took an ice-cold shower. It didn't help me at all. I needed to relieve the pressure building up inside me. My hand had been getting quite a workout since she moved in.

  I turned the water back to its normal temperature and grabbed myself. Soon I was coming, but it was not fulfilling. I knew it was nothing like what it would be if I were inside of her. Her willing attitude tortured me. All I had to do was walk through the door, and I believed she would spread her legs for me. From the way she looked at me, she wanted me as badly as I wanted her.

  I had set up the rules for a reason. They were to protect her. It would be easier for us to go our separate ways at the end if we had never touched. I knew that, intellectually. But my body had different ideas. I climbed out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist, wandering my way to the bed.

  I was behaving honorably. Maybe there was another way. I could get a transfer and be required to move for work reasons. If we lived in different cities, she would be easier to resist.

  And the parole board couldn't find fault with that, could they? I was trying to advance and support my new wife. There was a legitimate reason for living apart. I needed to get as far away from Samantha as possible.

  I clutched my head in my hands. What had I done to myself?

  Chapter Five

  SAMANTHA

  "Excuse me? Where do you want to take me?" I said, feeling cold dread seeping into my stomach.

  "We're going to a function. One of those fancy parties they show in the movies from Earth. I think you'd call it a black tie event."

  It felt like ice was freezing in my veins as I realized what he was asking me to do.

  "I've never been to a party like that," I said. I was starting to panic. "I have nothing to wear. I won't know how to act."

  "Sam." He had a habit of cutting off my babbling by saying my name sharply like that. "Calm down. We'll get you a dress. Money is no object. As long as you act like yourself and don't offend anyone, you'll be okay.

  "Don't offend anyone? Every other sentence that comes out of my mouth is likely to hurt someone. You said yourself that I'm the Vandwan equivalent of poor white trash. What makes you think I can handle a high-class soirée?"

  "Chill out. It's just a party," he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me to sit with him on the couch.

  "With all your fancy friends?" I asked. I was out of my league here, and I knew it.

  "They're not my friends," he said, with a bitter tone in his voice.

  "Why are you going to a party with people who aren't your friends?" I wondered.

  "It's kind of like work. Having contacts is goo
d. That's how all mergers and acquisitions get started, you know."

  I stared at him. I still could not believe what he was asking of me.

  "How about this. I'll take you to a store where they sell the kind of dresses you'll need. Then we'll ask Ashlyn where to get your hair done."

  "And nails."

  "Sure, nails too." He looked tense up until this point, but I could see him start to loosen up. "That's the spirit. I'll be right beside you the whole time."

  I scowled at him. But this was why he had wanted to marry me - to help him with his image. I was a trophy wife but without the social status. How hard could it be to go to a party?

  "Okay. Let's go shopping for a dress."

  It didn't matter which planet I was on. "Let's go dress shopping!" was always interpreted as "You buy a dress, I'll come back later."

  It happened as soon as we got to the door of the store. "Okay, I'll see you in an hour or two? How long do you think you'll need?"

  "You're not coming in?" I asked.

  "Do you need me with you? You're buying a dress. It can't be hard. You've gone shopping before."

  "On Earth," I said, feeling panic rising inside me again. "I don't know what would be suitable on Vandwa, or how I'm supposed to look. If you don't come in and help me pick out a dress, I'm not going. You know what kinds of clothes women wear at these parties. I don't."

  I resisted the urge to stamp my foot. I stood my ground, looking at him calmly. I would not let him escape. He frowned at me, then sighed.

  "Fine. Let's get this over with."

  "Look, I don't know what kind of girl you think I am, or what you think Earth girls are like, but I'm not particularly feminine. I would rather go on a hike than go shopping. I like looking pretty as much as the next woman, but I don't want it to be a lot of work."

  He turned his head to look at me. "I didn't know that. I used to like hiking, too."

  "Used to?" I said, surprised by his use of the past tense. I wondered if he regretted revealing anything about himself.

  "Even though this is a water planet, there used to be parks for children to play. It was before our land started disappearing. There were still places to hike when I was a kid."

  "That's good to know," I said, but I felt dissatisfied with his response. Was there more to his comment than his explanation indicated? Did I see a brief look of relief flit across his face after I closed the topic of conversation? Why would he be relieved?

  Jori was a mystery. I had to admit to myself that I was slightly intrigued.

  We walked into the store and immediately a woman wearing a pencil skirt and blouse came to attend us. She had a tidy bun at the nape of her neck.

  "How may I help you?"

  "We'll be needing a dress in Mrs. Lachlan's size for a black tie event, Dora," Jori said. I shook my head. The guy who hated shopping was on a first name basis with the lady in the fancy clothes store.

  The woman's eyebrows raised when she heard the name "Mrs. Lachlan". I was surprised myself. I had not taken his name.

  "Are you referring to your sister, Mr. Lachlan?" she asked. She was politely nosy.

  Jori gestured to me. "I mean my wife, Dora. We're in a bit of a rush. The party's tonight."

  "It won't be a problem, sir. We have some dresses that will look stunning on your wife. I can tailor them in half an hour to fit perfectly."

  Jori smiled at the woman, and she blushed.

  "I'll just get out a selection for you to choose from, shall I?" she said, glancing towards me for approval. I nodded politely, but I was fuming inside. That jerk smiled at the shopkeeper but not his wife. I descended upon him as soon as she was out of earshot.

  "Why are you calling me Mrs. Lachlan? My name is Samantha Morrows. I am not changing it for an alien who needs me for eye candy." I was on fire.

  Jori didn't say anything. I decided to prompt him again. "You knew I didn't change my name."

  "I knew. But it was an easy way to tell her you were my wife. You'll get better service this way. I didn't think you'd care about the opinion of a tailor you'll never see again."

  "You were wrong. Big surprise there. How about I call you Mr. Morrows? You married me. Maybe you should change your name."

  "Calm down, Sam," he said, rolling his eyes. "Is trying to get quality assistance a crime? Everyone knows the Lachlans around here. Nobody in this store will forget you after today. More doors will be opened for you than you can imagine if you drop my name."

  "What if I don't want to go through those doors with your..." My voice was getting louder, and another clerk glanced at us. He shushed me and I whispered the last words. "...fucking name."

  He closed his eyes.

  "I didn't mean to upset you. Sorry. How many times am I going to have to apologize to you this year? I hate apologizing."

  "You might try being considerate," I muttered. "I feel like you're throwing me beyond The Barrier without a moment's notice. Don't be surprised if I'm upset and worried."

  Dora chose that time to return to us. "Mrs. Lachlan," she began, but I cut her off.

  "Just call me Samantha, Dora. It's fine." I glared at Jori and followed the woman to a private room at the back of the store where she had ten dresses hanging on a rack. Jori remained behind me. I could sense a brooding presence, but I didn't care. I needed to let my anger go. I was going to enjoy this experience, in spite of him. Today I would get to try on dresses that would cost a year's worth of my Earth salary.

  Thirty minutes later, I was getting depressed. The first five dresses hadn't worked. I didn't see any I liked on the rack either.

  Dora had been patient throughout the entire process. Maybe the Lachlan name meant something after all. "I have an idea," she said, holding up a finger. "I have something in the back that you might like. Not every woman could wear this dress, but you have the figure and the coloring to pull it off. Let me get it."

  Jori and I waited in silence until she bustled out. Her arms carried a bundle of fabric that looked like a crimson sunset. My eyes bugged out.

  "No way," Jori said, immediately. "It's too conspicuous."

  "You've got to be kidding me." I turned to him, then finally remembered that we should sound happily married. We had no idea who the parole board might select to interview to test the validity of our marriage.

  "Darling," I said. Jori narrowed his eyes. "You said I could pick whatever dress I wanted, remember?"

  He pressed his lips together. "We don't even know if it fits," I said. "Let me just try it on."

  He shook his head and shrugged. He was the picture of a defeated man.

  I knew it was going to fit me perfectly. The red dress was the one. I raced to the fitting room and pulled it over my head. It slid down over my body and fit as if it had been custom made for me, just as I had hoped. It hugged my curves and contrasted with my olive skin tone, brightening it and bringing out the dark brown of my eyes.

  It was stunning, and I looked like a different woman in it. I sauntered out, wondering what Jori would think.

  Apparently, he didn't think much of it. His face was devoid of all expression. As I looked closer, I saw his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed, and he shifted in his seat.

  The dress was even better than I had imagined. Anything that made Jori crazy with lust would be just what I needed.

  Dora clapped her hands together. "It looks beautiful, Sam."

  "Well?" I asked. When he didn't say anything, I smiled at Jori seductively. "What do you think, husband?"

  He was speechless for a moment before he managed to gather his thoughts.

  "I think it's very conspicuous."

  "Every eye in the place will be on your wife, sir, that's for sure."

  His face darkened. I wondered what his problem was. Did he really want to stay inconspicuous, or was he jealous? Dora looked back and forth at us, finally picking up on the tension in the room.

  "I'll leave you to make the final decision. Please let me know if you'd like to try on an
y more dresses, Sam."

  "Sure, Dora. Thanks so much for your help." As soon as she left the room, I hopped down two steps and sat down in front of Jori.

  "I think this dress is perfect for me, and you said I could pick the dress. You never said it couldn't be conspicuous. It fits like it was made just for me and I look okay in it."

  "You think you just look okay? You look like sex in a bottle, Sam. All the men are going to ogle you. Can't you get the black one? It fits well enough, and won't draw any attention."

  "Jori, come on. I'm not going to get any action this year because of your stupid rule. At least let me have a little attention."

  I glanced towards the door and wondered if anyone had heard me.

  "They're discreet here," he whispered. "But keep your voice down. You know my parole board meeting is next week. We don't need rumors going around that our marriage is in shambles already."

  "We'd look more happily married if we weren't both sexually frustrated," I muttered, dropping my gaze. I glanced up at him quickly, catching his eye.

  "Don't do that with your eyes. And that dress. It makes things difficult for me."

  "Like I said before, it's your stupid rule. You deal with it."

  "We'll take the red dress and the black one. We can continue this conversation later," he said and stalked out.

  Two points for me. I was getting a sexy red dress. And Jori was pissed about it.

  That evening, Jori and I walked up the steps of the fabulous mansion. I had a trick for not getting overwhelmed by life. I thought about something other than my present circumstances. Currently I imagined myself back on Earth, heading out for work. I felt normal until Jori put his arm on my shoulder. I tripped, and when Jori helped me to my feet, my hands were trembling.

  "Relax," he said. "Those men will forgive anything that comes out of your mouth as long as you're wearing that dress."

  I glanced down at myself to make sure there weren't any specks of lint or discolorations on my outfit. I was determined to wear it no matter what. It was my body, after all. Jori relented eventually - I didn't understand what his problem was. It's not like he would be jealous or anything.