Burning Ambition

by Amy Knupp

  “Cars?” she asked, taking in the three-bay garage beneath the main house when he flipped on the lights.

  “More than just cars,” Joe said, his voice coming alive. “Classics.”

  She walked to the closest one. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but this looks particularly unclassical.”

  It was a heap of junk, with dents in the back, mismatched paint on the driver’s door, a broken headlight.

  “You’re not looking at it right,” Joe said, coming up behind her. She felt his heat all along her body and, swear to God, her knees went weak.

  Faith turned to look up at him, so close her head brushed against his chin. His spicy, clean, man smell teased her nose, and she longed to bury her face in his chest. “How should I look at it?”

  “As potential.” With his hands at her waist, he guided her past the middle bay of the garage, which was full of workbenches and tools, to the far one. “To look as sexy as this.”

  An old-model red car with black stripes on the hood was backed in, the rear end jacked up slightly higher than the front, the paint shiny.

  “Nice,” she said, walking toward it and peeking in the driver’s window. “Much more classic looking.”

  “Nice. You say that like only a woman could.” Joe laughed. “This represents over two years of my life.”

  “Wow.” She started to run her hand along the side, but he caught it in his.

  “Your rings could scratch the paint.”

  Faith tried not to laugh, because she could tell he was dead serious. “Sorry, boss.”

  “You did not just call me that.”

  “I meant car boss. Not fire boss. So are you going to tell me what this is, exactly?” Without touching it, she gestured to his pride and joy.

  “It’s a 1965 Super Sport Chevelle with a…you don’t care about the engine, do you?” He broke off, with slightly less enthusiasm than he’d started with.

  “Care isn’t the right word. Know a thing about…no. But I’m duly impressed, anyway. You did what to this? Started with a heap like that one over there and made it pretty?”

  He laughed again. “That sums it up well.”

  “Can I open the door?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  He reached in front of her for the driver’s door, but an idea had blossomed in Faith’s mind. She opened the door to the back.

  Without waiting for his reaction, she slid in on the leather seat. The old-fashioned, wide bench seat. “Nice in here,” she said, running her hand over the smooth leather. “Roomy.”

  Joe bent over at the door, hands braced on the roof. “It’s never looked quite as nice as it does now.”

  “Yeah?” She leaned back across the seat, resting her elbows behind her, her feet still on the floor by his legs. “How about now?”

  “I’ve always liked black leather, but…green silk and denim is fast becoming my favorite.”

  “Sometimes it’s even better to touch, rather than just look.”

  He ducked his head inside and covered her body with his, one hand on the seat by her head and the other on the floor. “You have a naughty side to you, Faith Peligni.”

  “You seem to bring it out of me, Captain Mendoza.” She put her arms around his neck and drew him to her.

  He kissed her hard, urgently, revealing to her he’d been as frustrated all night as she had.

  “Any chance of someone coming down here?” she asked when they took a breath.

  Joe shook his head and nipped at her lips. “They never come down. This is my space.”

  “I like your space.” Faith touched her finger to his moist lips, and he caught it with his mouth. The move was erotic, intimate.

  “I like you in my space.” He pressed his lower body to hers, showing her just how much he liked it as he kissed the side of her neck, just below her ear.

  Faith slid her knees up to bring their bodies closer.

  “As much as I’d love to have you with nothing but those do-me shoes on, you have to take them off,” Joe said. “Don’t want to ruin the leather.”

  Grinning, Faith slipped the four-inch heels off. “Or scratch the paint.”

  He kissed the grin away, intensely, his tongue seeking hers, tangling with it. One hand slid under her top, to her flesh. Trailed down, under the edge of her jeans. “These have to go,” he said, unsnapping them. Working the zipper down.

  The heat built in Faith fast, and she needed him to quell the ache. She wriggled beneath him, working her jeans off with her thumbs. His body was in the way, so she switched her efforts to his fly. He lifted, giving her access—to unzip, touch him, run her fingers along the length of him. Joe moaned and backed out of the car enough to take over removing her pants.

  “It’d be faster to cut these off,” he said, heat in his eyes.

  “Patience. Virtue. Yada.” Faith arched her hips upward and did what she could to help him.

  “You turn into cliché girl when you’re naked.”

  “You talk too much when I’m naked.”

  He dropped her jeans on the floor of the garage and eyed her dark purple thong. Bending over her again, he kissed her inner thigh, then worked his tongue under the thin strip of satiny material.

  Joe teased her with his mouth as she ran a hand through his hair and tried to breathe. She thought she would die of wanting when he finally peeled her panties down her legs. The coolness of the leather under her barely registered.

  Faith arched upward as he drew maddening circles with his tongue, inching closer to the part of her that ached most for his touch. At long freaking last, he covered her with his mouth, and she nearly shot through the ceiling, so electric was the sensation.

  She pulled him upward, shaking with need. “Want you inside.”

  They both worked at his jeans and the boxers beneath them. When they were down on his thighs, he gave up and pressed himself between her legs.

  “Faith,” he breathed into her ear. “We need to use something.”

  Her mind was fuzzy and she struggled to think clearly. “Timing is okay.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Very.”

  That was all he needed. He entered her, eliciting an unfamiliar sound from deep in her throat.

  IF ANYONE HAD TOLD JOE he’d end up having sex in the backseat of his prized Chevelle, he would’ve laughed and said, “Like hell.” Everyone he knew gave him continual crap for his meticulousness about this car. He’d never even let anyone sit inside except in the driver’s seat.

  He’d gotten over that the second Faith had sprawled so sexily across the black leather.

  As she clung to him, arched toward him, coaxed him—as if he needed any coaxing—he lost all awareness of where they were. They could be five feet from a raging fire…God knew it was hot enough. He wouldn’t notice or care. All he knew was Faith. The way her dark hair fanned over the seat. Her scent, sweaty and female, with a lingering touch of her floral perfume. The sounds she made—sexy gasps and short breaths and, damn, the things she was saying.

  His need for release built, climbed so high he could taste it. He lifted her legs, angling deeper inside her, and she sank her teeth into his shoulder as she came. Joe watched her, and that was all it took for him to shatter into a million pieces.

  As he slowly came out of his personal nirvana haze, he did his best to keep his weight from crushing Faith. It was nearly impossible, so he slid his arm beneath her and rolled onto his back on the small seat, holding her to his chest. They both breathed hard. The temperature in the car had to be about a hundred degrees, but he wasn’t ready to bail out yet. Wanted to hold her for a while longer. Maybe a couple of weeks.

  Joe brushed her hair back from her face and pulled her head closer to his for a long, quenching, soul-satisfying kiss.

  For those few minutes, he was perfectly content, satisfied, at peace with everything in the world. He dared to let himself think how wild he was about this woman—only for a moment. Then he moved toward the door, telling himse
lf it was just the combination of great sex and the backseat of the car he loved. Nothing more.

  “YOU MAKE IT REALLY HARD to leave, you know that?” Faith said hours later. They were stretched out in his bed, the sheets twisted, but pulled up halfway against the middle-of-the-night chill. They’d made love twice more since driving back from Corpus.

  “I’d say I’m sorry, but that would be a lie.” Joe trailed his finger along the curve of her naked hip, up her side to her rib cage. “You could stay.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. Even though it was nearly four-thirty in the morning and the night was more than halfway over, this was big. Scary.

  If she stayed tonight, slept in Joe’s arms, would she ever be satisfied to sleep without him again?

  “But,” Joe continued, and she expected him to cancel the offer. “Aren’t you staying with your mom this week?”

  “Yes.” Nadia had family in town for a few days, and Faith couldn’t let herself take up her friend’s only guest bed. So she’d sucked up her pride to bunk with her mom temporarily. As temporarily as possible.

  “Won’t she wonder where you are?”

  “She’s well aware that I’m a big girl.”

  “Sure, but staying out all night? She wouldn’t approve, would she?”

  Faith laughed. “Of course she wouldn’t approve. Does that mean I’m going to jump up and run home to her?” Faith kissed Joe slowly, tenderly, not trying to start anything. “No. I want to be here.”

  He studied her in the near darkness with a quiet intensity, and Faith felt it again—some new level of connection between them. A contented ease that settled in once their frantic physical hunger for each other was sated.

  “That’s one of the things I love about you,” he said after a while.

  “What is?”

  “That you do what you want to do because you want to do it.”

  “Why else would I do something?” She touched his strong jaw, rubbed her finger back and forth, lightly, over the rough stubble.

  “Troy said something to me earlier. Got me thinking.”

  “What’d he say?”

  Joe hesitated. Rolled onto his back. “Accused me of living my life the way other people want me to. Not for myself.”

  “Okay. Do you?”

  He looked at her pensively. “I care what others think, I guess. Maybe more than I should.”

  “That’s pretty normal,” Faith said.

  “Do you care what your mom thinks?”

  “That goes a lot deeper than just having her disapprove of what time I come home at night. She’s disapproved loudly of my career choice for years. Before I ever got out of high school.”

  “But you became a firefighter, anyway.”

  “Wouldn’t you? If you burned to do something and your mom didn’t think it was a good idea?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on. Really?” Faith propped herself up on her elbow.

  “It’s so far from what I’ve experienced. My family was always so deep into firefighting, there was never any question. My dad hung out at the station from the time he was in single digits. My mom, well, she jumped in with both feet when she met him.”

  “That’s so cool. My mom married my dad in spite of his career.”

  “So it must’ve taken courage to tell her you were going to follow in his footsteps.”

  Faith shrugged. “Not that much. I was more interested in the chance to share it with my dad. So I’m probably not courageous at all.”

  Joe gave a low, sexy chuckle. “Trust me. You’ve got courage in spades.”

  They lay there in silence for a while, both of them lost in thought.

  “If you couldn’t be a firefighter, what would you do?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I love my job.”

  “You know it will change a lot when you get that promotion.”

  “If I get that promotion.”

  “What if you don’t like pushing paper, Joe?”

  “I want the job.”

  “For yourself? Or is there something to Troy’s comments?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “What would your mom think if you decided not to go for assistant chief?”

  “She’d be disappointed,” he admitted. “But not for herself. Because she knows I’ve been aiming for chief for so many years.”

  Faith settled in next to him, her head on his thick chest, his arm around her. “Personally, I think you’d be good at whatever job you do for the department. But there’s something I’ve noticed.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Whenever you talk about becoming the chief, going for assistant chief…you never use the word dream. Are you going for it because you want it more than anything else, or are you doing it because it’s what’s expected of you? What would make your mom proud? Make your stepbrothers respect you?”

  Joe hugged her to him and kissed her forehead. “All of the above.”

  She turned to stare into his eyes.

  “Really,” he said.

  “Okay, then. Just making sure.”

  He tightened his hold on her. “I care about you, Faith.”

  She swallowed hard. “I know. Me, too.”

  “Too much.”

  She nodded, smiling sadly. “Me, too.”

  “I’ve wanted you since the day your dad brought you into my office—”

  “When I was seventeen?” she asked, with feigned shock.

  “God, no. What would I want with a crazy hormonal teenage girl?” He laughed. “Since your first day at work.”

  “Oh, that.”

  “I mean all-out, can’t-get-you-out-of-my-thoughts wanting. Physical.”

  “I kind of noticed.” She tried to keep it light.

  “But there’s more. I don’t know….”

  “Shhh. We can’t go there, Joe.”

  He nodded, seeming to understand exactly.

  There was more than physical desire on her side, too, but she didn’t want to think about it. Couldn’t let herself. Because with every minute she spent with him, she wanted it—him—more and more. And knowing they were so close to almost having something, but not being able to reach out and take it, hurt a hell of a lot more than having a building collapse on you.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  AS THE ENGINE ROARED UP to the burning warehouse, Faith’s nerves tangled in a tight bunch in her gut.

  She should be over this by now. Over the trauma of the building coming down around her. She’d bet the other firefighters who’d been there were past it. Of course, those guys in San Antonio had probably been through ten times as many fires in that time, which gave them more opportunities to cope….

  Screw that. No excuses.

  She was on the verge of being the weak link, and if she didn’t get over this hesitancy now, tonight, she had a lot of thinking to do about her future. You couldn’t fight fires if you let your fear get the best of you.

  “Faith, you’re with Nate,” Joe said. He pointed out their way in and told them what size hose to take. As usual, he’d come alive as they neared the site, though there wasn’t any question they had “something” this time. When you were the third company called in, you knew there was a live one.

  Faith busied herself in standard preparations. She turned her air cylinder on, put her mask up to her face and took a test breath to ensure it worked. Settled her Nomex hood and helmet in place. Adjusted her air pack at her waist and donned her gloves. Breathed deeply.

  Her equipment was ready.

  The question was her. Was she ready?

  Joe came up beside her and walked with her toward the door. Nate was about ten feet ahead of them, not paying any attention beyond a periodic glance behind him to make sure Faith was coming.

  Nate paused at the entrance and checked his pocket for his radio.

  Faith felt the blackness, the dread starting to seep in. Her heart pounded and bile rose in her throat. She closed her eyes, fighting it. Willing it back. Tel
ling herself she had to stop panicking.

  “Faith,” Joe said, his head close enough to hers that she heard him over the chaos around them.

  She met his eyes. They sparked with excitement, but she was more taken with the calm confidence in them.

  “You can do this. You’ve done it a hundred times,” he reminded her. He grasped her wrist loosely around the heavy turnout coat, a professional, supportive touch. “I trust you completely.” He nodded once and gave her a long look.

  Joe trusted her. He knew she could do her job. He believed in her.

  As he’d told her in the past, she needed to trust herself.

  He let go of her arm and moved away to talk to another officer.

  Faith wasn’t sure if she truly trusted herself yet, but she decided if Joe believed in her, the least she could do was fake it.

  To hell with the self-doubt.

  “Let’s go,” she told Nate.

  She followed him in with no more hesitation, giving herself a split second to savor the small victory before becoming fully engaged in the task at hand.

  FAITH HAD NO IDEA how long they’d been in the building—all sense of time was nonexistent for her when she was in the middle of fighting a good fire—but she knew they were finally starting to make some progress.

  She and Nate had just decided to move in order to get a better angle on the flames. Faith was ensuring the hose wasn’t caught up on anything. She pulled in some extra slack, but the hose stopped before she got as much as they needed. She followed it back to free it, then held on to it as she again made her way toward Nate.

  He’d just sent the message to the engine to give him water when Faith realized something wasn’t right. Something was going wrong.

  In half a heartbeat, she knew. Something was caving in on them. She ducked, doing what she could to protect herself, her mind screaming out in utter terror.

  Excruciating seconds later, the deafening noise subsided, and it was back to just the usual roar of fire devouring a building and everything in it.

  Faith opened her eyes and did a mental inventory for any pain messages from her body. There were none. Whatever had come down had missed her.

  “Thank you, God,” she said as she located her radio. Tears leaked from her eyes as a hysterical relief bubbled up in her. The radio was there. Her limbs were fine. She was okay.