All Fired Up (DreamMakers)

by Arend, Vivian

  “She seems pretty level-headed,” he answered, considering the brief words they’d exchanged at yoga. “I don’t think she’d go for anything overly extravagant. No mariachi bands singing to her at dinner, or big displays that make her the center of attention.”

  Up ahead, Lynn changed lanes. A second later, she parked in front of a Fresh Mart. Parker quickly followed suit, steering the SUV through the lot and choosing a space not too far from hers.

  Both men watched as Lynn slid out of her car.

  Parker hit his door release. “I’ll follow—”

  “Bullshit.” Dean shoved his hand in front of Parker’s face, a receiver and speaker dangling from his fingers. “You’re not thinking that one through, bro. Are you nuts? She just saw you at yoga. You show up in the same grocery store as her five minutes after class, and she’ll call the cops.”

  Shit. “You’re right.” Parker sat back with far more reluctance than he should have while simply deciding who would follow a target.

  Of course, Dean, the observant asshole that he was, picked up on the hesitation immediately. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you a full report of everything she’s buying.”

  “Great.”

  “Every stick of celery.”

  “Fine.”

  “Every bag of chips.”

  “Good.”

  “Every dirty magazine off the rack—”

  “Fuck off.”

  Dean tucked his earpiece into place and attached a tiny mic to his collar. “Just think—she could have chosen to stop at an adult shop like The Pleasure Chest or something. How’d you like to hear a live-action report on that?”

  The idea was far too tempting. “How about you focus on the things she buys that might help us plan the damn date.”

  Dean was out, both feet on the pavement. He paused to lean on the doorframe, teasing grin firmly in position as he looked at Parker. “Wonder if she’s the type who goes for a rubber ducky?” he cracked.

  Parker rolled his eyes. “A grown woman in her late twenties? I highly doubt that.”

  “No, bro, I was talking about a rubber ducky. You know, that new brand of vibrator that chicks can bring into the tub?”

  Parker’s cock twitched. Christ. Dean just had to plant that image in his head, didn’t he? “Go follow her, you ass, and shut up about sex. She’s getting groceries.”

  “Shut up about sex?” Dean muttered softly the entire way to the front door of the market. “Shut up? Everything is about sex, and you know it. Dating is about sex. Clothes are about sex. Hell, even this magnificent display of tomatoes I find before me as I enter the store—even this is about sex.”

  Tomatoes. “Right. Explain that one as you find our mark, please.”

  “Grabbing a cart.” There was a rattling noise, and then a steady squeak, squeak, squeak began in the background. “Heading down the cheese and bakery section. No sign of her. And the tomatoes—obvious, bro. Breast fixation. Stock boy set up the display in pairs.”

  Parker gave in and let his head collapse forward, hard enough he set off the horn. He jerked upright, glancing around to make sure no one had witnessed his mistake. “Dean…”

  “Looking. Looking.” Squeak.

  Squeak.

  Squeak.

  “Oops, okay, found her.” Dean’s voice dropped to a faint whisper. “A couple instant noodle dishes—looks like Thai, some spaghetti sauce in a jar. Whole wheat noodles.”

  “Healthy stuff. Got it.”

  “Pecans…oh, shit.” The squeak in the background stopped mid-screech. “Umm…”

  “What?” Parker demanded.

  “Contraceptive section.”

  Damn it. There went his final hope that the blue-eyed goddess wasn’t really involved with Phil the slime. “Don’t let her spot you,” Parker warned.

  “Fuck you, too. I know my job. And I can multitask. For example, I can stand here, completely out of her line of sight, and observe that she’s pulling lube off the wall. At the same time I’m being Mr. Observant, I can think what a shame it is that such a fine woman isn’t on the market. Imagine all the dirty, dirty things we could do with her…”

  Parker had indulged in enough threesomes with Dean to know the other man excelled at dirty.

  “She’s smoking hot,” Dean added.

  “Tell me about it.” He made a frustrated noise. The woman was pulling lube from the shelf? His cock was far too interested in that bit of information. “You weren’t the one who had to watch her during yoga.”

  “Damn shame,” Dean said again. “She’s wasted on Shotelle. You and me could rock her world in ways that idiot never could.”

  Parker nodded glumly. “Yup. But we’re not. And we can’t, because she’s the girlfriend of a client. So—” A crash sounded in the background. “What was that?” he demanded.

  “She’s on the run. Top shelf was a little too high for her and she knocked a section down reaching for a box. She’s vanished around the corner, cart and all, like there’s someone on her ass.”

  That didn’t sound like Lynn, not even from a short time of observation. “She’s not sticking around and picking stuff up?”

  Dean’s amused chuckle carried over the line. “I think she’s too shy to deal with helping anyone pick this up. Guess what’s on the top shelf—you’ll like this one, bro.”

  He bet he wouldn’t. “What?”

  “Boxes of lube with accompanying finger vibrators. Looks as if someone’s planning a little private entertainment.”

  Great. Parker was going to spend the rest of the night with an erection trying to tunnel its way out of his pants, just from the mental image of Lynn slipping her fingers between her legs.

  “Recon is done. Get out, now,” he barked.

  “Need me to pick up anything?” Dean asked. “There’s lots of lube right here—might help with that frustration I hear in your voice.”

  “Now, Colter. Haul ass.” Parker briefly closed his eyes and sighed. The sooner he got rid of Dean, the sooner he could go home and deal with his frustrations.

  Alone.

  And that sucked hugely.

  Dean

  He wasn’t surprised Parker called off the recon so early, especially after a quick glance revealed his buddy was sitting as uncomfortably in the car as Dean.

  Lynn Davidson’s brand of shy innocence was damn attractive, and taunting Parker had backfired—Dean was riled up as well. As much as he loved his partner, and as pretty as Parker was, the other man couldn’t help him with his current dick-related predicament.

  Fortunately, he knew someone who could.

  Dean pulled out his phone the second Parker sped away from the Fresh Mart. He scrolled through his substantial list of contacts before he found the one he wanted. “Katie baby,” he drawled a second later. “Feel like playing tonight?”

  A snort sounded from the driver’s seat.

  The call lasted all of three seconds. He hung up and turned to Parker. “Change of plans. Drop me off at the next block.”

  “What about your car? You left it at the studio.”

  “I’m sure I can convince Katie to drive me back there tomorrow.”

  “Dude. Do you have a fuck buddy on every street in the city?”

  He grinned. “Pretty much.”

  “Tell me, when you were a baby, was your first word sex or fucking?”

  “Not sure. It might have been pussy.”

  That earned him a loud snicker from Parker, who shifted his attention to the road as Dean put away his phone. He wondered what his buddy would say if Dean told him he hadn’t lost his virginity until he was nineteen. But naah, Parker wouldn’t believe him, and besides, he had a reputation to uphold.

  He hadn’t always been a ladies’ man, but he sure as hell was one now.

  “Turn left up there,” he instructed. “It’s the second house on the right.”

  Parker smoothly steered toward the intended destination and parked in front of the skinny Victorian home. He let out a sigh.
“We’ll look through all our information tomorrow. Hopefully we’ve got enough intel to plan something good.”

  “A part of me wants to tell Shotelle to fuck off,” Dean admitted. “I still have a bad feeling about the guy.”

  “Yeah, me too. But this is our business. We have to finish the job whether we like the client or not.” There was no mistaking the agitation in Parker’s green eyes. It was rare to see his friend so torn about a gig, or so taken with a target.

  “You’re right. Let’s see how it goes tomorrow,” Dean finally said.

  “Sounds good.” With a nod, Parker reached for the gearshift. “All right. Get the fuck out of here.” He cocked a brow. “Unless I’m invited for your date with Katie baby?”

  “Sadly, no. She’s only into one-on-one.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows. “But I’m working on it, so ask me again tomorrow and the answer might be different.”

  He hopped out of the SUV, closing the door and tapping the frame in goodbye. A moment later, Parker sped off, and Dean headed toward the house, still thinking about the Shotelle job. But he forced the misgivings aside. That was tomorrow’s problem.

  Tonight he had a boner to take care of, and a lady to make happy. Fortunately, the two things went together oh so well.

  Chapter Three

  Lynn blinked hard as she shuffled from the underground parking at the Bay City Press building and into the elevator. Her eyes were full of grit after her crappy night, and she was having trouble keeping them open.

  She’d been too worked up over Phil to sleep. Instead she’d lain awake in bed, wondering how in the world she could find out the truth about her boyfriend. It wasn’t as if he would announce something plain and simple like “Sorry, but I have to cancel another date with you so I can bang your coworker on the side.”

  An enormous yawn escaped as the elevator stopped at the ground floor and a crowd poured in, trapping her in the corner like a poorly prepared shopper on Black Friday. She couldn’t see a single thing except the tailored suit in front of her, a man’s broad shoulders blocking the view of everyone and everything.

  Of course, as squished as they were, someone’s phone had to ring. Bodies shifted awkwardly, and Lynn mentally cursed whoever was jackass enough to respond while stuck in such tight quarters. As if they couldn’t wait thirty seconds and return the call when they weren’t inconveniencing everyone else in the place.

  The fact she wasn’t surprised to recognize the inconsiderate bastard’s voice as soon as he spoke made her sad all over again.

  “Phil Shotelle speaking. Of course, sir. I’d love to join you for lunch. In fact, I have an update regarding the big promotional sales event I’m organizing. I think you’ll be impressed.”

  Lynn rolled her eyes so hard she might have sprained something.

  Okay, this was stupid. The thoughts she had regarding the man were not the lover-ly reflections of a besotted girlfriend. Whether or not Phil was cheating, it was clear she needed to call things off with him and go looking for greener pastures.

  Or hotter ones.

  Parker’s teasing grin leapt to mind, and damned if her libido didn’t click over to high with a hum that was nearly audible in the confined space. She squeezed her legs together in the hopes she’d be walking normally by the time they reached her floor.

  Small mercies—Phil exited the elevator ahead of her then cut immediately to the left without a backward glance, saving her the trouble of having to say hello, or goodbye.

  She wasn’t a chicken. Much. She simply needed more coffee before officially making a move.

  Only, oh joy, oh bliss, her Wednesday turned into what Suz had so perfectly branded a Crapapalooza. One unending disaster after another meant she spent more time putting out fires than moving forward. Lynn barely had time to pee, let alone stop for lunch or inform her boyfriend he’d been awarded the coveted ex status.

  “Hey, girlfriend.”

  She spun her chair, concern hitting hard and fast when she spotted Suz approaching her cubicle. They hadn’t spoken all day, and her friend sounded as if she’d spent the last five hours screaming and lost not only her voice, but her will to live.

  “You look horrible. What’s up?”

  Suz pasted on a ghastly smile. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  Oh lordy. “You’re scaring me.” Lynn jumped to her feet and dragged her BFF into the confines of her purple cubicle, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’re one of the best liars in the world, and that one sucked eggs. Something is seriously wrong, isn’t it?”

  Suz nodded, then shook her head. “No. I mean there’s no death or disaster involved. Yet. I just…” She lifted her gaze to Lynn’s, her green eyes lacking their typical sparkle. “I hate to have to tell you ‘I told you so’. I mean, I joked about what an ass Phil was, but I don’t want you hurt, and what I’ve got to tell you—”

  Shit.

  Lynn slammed up a hand to halt Suz’s confession. There were too many opportunities to be overheard on the busy floor. “Come on…”

  She dragged her friend down the hall to the ladies’ room, peeking under the stall doors to make sure they were private while Suz locked the main door.

  “Spill,” Lynn demanded.

  Her best friend sighed, the agony of her soul written in her sorrowful body language. “I was on my way to marketing when I spotted your Phil coming out of a maintenance room.”

  She frowned. “A…broom closet?”

  Suz nodded. “He didn’t see me, but knowing how uppity he is, it seemed like a strange place for him. I mean, he’s the type who calls for someone to wipe up spilled coffee instead of doing it himself. So I hid around the corner and hung out for a bit.”

  Sadly, Lynn already knew where this was going. “And a little while later you saw Dana Hastings leave the closet.”

  “Shit, what? No.” Suz’s eyes were huge. “It was Sylvia, the new temp from the second floor who’s—wait. You’re not surprised?”

  Lynn wouldn’t put it that way. Holy shit, this changed everything, again. “I’m…kind of speechless.”

  “But you thought he was fooling around with Dana?” Twin spots of red brightened Suz’s cheeks as fury flickered over her face. “Okay, so as long as you’re not upset, I’m gonna go kill him.”

  “Why?”

  Suz looked at her as if she’d gone insane. “The fucker cheated on you.”

  “With more than one person, it seems.” Lynn did an internal check, but there was nothing there. No regret, no upset. No…nothing. “I was going to call things off with him today anyway. I had my suspicions.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?” Suz folded her arms. “That’s not following the rules in the BFF handbook.”

  “It was a recent decision,” she confessed. “Like since this morning. Honest. I was going to tell you tonight over tequila shooters.”

  Her friend stood down, tension draining away. “You’re sure you’re not upset? Because I don’t mind hurting him a little.”

  Lynn laughed. “I’m sure. I’m not upset, just floored, and some of the head rush is from a lack of food. I skipped breakfast and lunch, and granola bars don’t sit right after the third one.”

  Suz caught her by the shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. “Then tonight we celebrate losing the loser. We’ll grab some burgers, then hit the Frog and Crown for shooters. My treat, all expenses paid.”

  “Sounds good.” Lynn unlocked the door and gestured into the hallway. “But if I drink too much, you have to promise to hold my hair back while I worship at the great white throne. Deal?”

  Suz grinned. “Deal.”

  Parker stared at his best friend. “Really. You didn’t do anything?”

  Jack Hunter shrugged rock-solid shoulders, easing back in his chair and resting his feet on the desk. “What can I say? This gorgeous brunette noticed my T-shirt with the business logo, and the next thing I know there’s a group of women gathered around grilling me about DreamMakers. One thing led to another, and wh
en I got the perfect opportunity to suggest our services as a designated driver, I took it.” He popped the lid off his takeout coffee cup and peered at the steaming liquid. “Just doing my part to keep the roads safe.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Dean interrupted. “You lost the toss, had to go spring for our coffees, and ended up with a job driving a dozen women home after a bachelorette party tonight?”

  “They’re doing a home spa night, with shooters,” Jack shared, his grin brightening his already cheerful face. “I understand there’s a lingerie party involved as well.”

  “If they have Adam and Eve door prizes, this could get a little crazy,” Parker cracked.

  Dean leapt to his feet. “Jack, I’m so ashamed of myself. I just remembered you said you missed dealing with the trickier recons. I volunteer to take the driving off your hands so you can help Parker with the other job tonight.”

  “Yeah. I’m so upset.” Jack sneered at Dean. “Nice try, but the ladies were so enamored of my charm, it’s got to be me or no one. I’d trade, really I would, but I don’t want to jeopardize the mission.”

  “You’re an ass.”

  Jack raised his cup in the air. “A bold knight escorting fair maidens to the safety of their fortresses—that was the phrase one of them coined, by the way. I propose we add it to the company logo.”

  Dean settled on the desktop and pushed Jack’s feet to the floor. “Scantily clad maidens. Jerk. You got all the luck lately.”

  “Don’t sleep with any of them,” Parker warned.

  Jack made a rude noise. “I know the rules.”

  “Yeah, tonight he’ll get all their phone numbers. He’ll sleep with them starting tomorrow.” Dean crossed his arms, inspiration twisting his expression into sheer mischief. “I should ride shotgun. I’m sure there’s something in the codebook stating the ratio of knight to damsel can’t go over eight to one.”

  “Give it up,” Parker muttered. “We accepted the asshole job, and we need to finish it. I need you with me tonight.”