How to Seduce a Fireman

The music stopped and Cassie sauntered toward a table with her friends. A slow tune started and blond guy grabbed her arm, pulling her into an embrace. His grimy hands slid down her back to cup her ass.

Someone turned off the strobe lights during the bump and grind music, which gave Quinn a clearer view of the dance floor and blond guy’s touchy-feeling dance style. Evidently, holding a conversation while dancing was out. Asshole was practically chewing on Cassie’s neck.

Possessiveness rolled and burned in Quinn’s gut. No one had the right to touch his angel like that, dammit. Not that she was exclusively his. She was the angel in her family and at the fire station, too, if his co-workers’ anger at him after he’d blown her off was any indication.

God, his feelings for her jumbled his emotions and created havoc with his mind more and more every damn day. Breaking things off with her before they started had been wise. It was his method that sucked raw eggs. That’s why he was here, to explain…what? Why? Hell, he could never explain why.

He expelled a curse and jammed his hand into the front pocket of his jeans. Spinning on the barstool toward the bartender, Quinn slapped a bill on the bar. “Shot of Jim Beam and a beer chaser.”

Goddammit, some motherfucker had his hands on Cassie’s ass! Wildness burned so hot in him it nearly seared all rational thought—except for murder. Hell, murder was rational, wasn’t it?

Shot glass in hand, his gaze ricocheted back to Cassie. She reached behind her to ply the man’s hands off her bottom and place them higher on her back. Good girl. Words were exchanged. Blond guy acquiesced. Evidently he wasn’t as dumb as he looked. Quinn tossed back the shot, hissed a breath through his teeth and ignored his stomach’s protest.

If he didn’t soon make his move, blond guy would have her out the door and on the way to who knows where. He downed a few swallows of beer and stood. As Grandpa Hudson was prone to say, “Eating crow never comes easy.”

By the time Quinn shouldered his way through the crowd on the dance floor, blond guy had his hands on Cassie’s ass again. Quinn slowly circled the couple. Her dance partner was too busy getting his rocks off by rubbing up against her to take notice. Cassie, on the other hand, caught sight of him and her eyes widened. Her mouth silently formed his name. She knew his work schedule at the fire and rescue station. Seeing him here must have really shocked her.

So, what was it to be? Option A? Act like a gentleman and tap blond guy on his shoulder, asking to cut in? Or option B? Belt the bastard in the jaw?

Possessiveness could be a volatile bastard, uncontrollable as hell and prone to rear its head at the worst times. The thought of tossing Cassie over his shoulder and carrying her to his Wrangler appealed, which totally went against what he’d told her back at the station.

The band announced they were taking a break and the ensuing silence birthed another option. One Quinn liked even better. Option C for crazy. “There you are, Dominatrix Cassie.” He took her hand, bowed over it and kissed her knuckles with feigned reverence.

She jerked her hand to her chest and narrowed her cat eyes. “What are you doing here? Why are you speaking to me now?”

“Is this the submissive you’ve chosen for our ménage à trois tonight?”

Blond guy’s eyes lit up. “A ménage? Hell, yeah!” His head bobbed, teeth gleaming in the semi-darkness.

Oh, this was going to be fun. Quinn extended his hand to the man. “Hi, name’s Georgio, but most guys just call me Donkey, ʼcause of the size of my dong.” He grabbed his crotch. “Not to worry, though. I’ll lube you up good first. Your name is?”

The kid’s smile dimmed and he shuffled his feet. “Ah…Dustin.” His gaze flicked from Quinn to Cassie. “Look, I’m not sure what all’s going on here. Maybe you better fill me in.”

“Georgio?” Cassie’s eyebrows rose, folding her forehead, and her hands went to her hips. “Georgio? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about those release papers. Did you have Dustin sign them? We don’t want another lawsuit.” Quinn looked at the blond guy who shook his head and shrugged. “I’ll handle this, Dustin.” Once again, Quinn captured both of her hands in his and bowed over them. “Dominatrix, at the risk of angering you, need I remind you what you did to Pepe, the last guy you chose for our threesome?”

Her jaw was agape. “The last guy?”

Quinn shook his head once and tsked a couple times. He clasped a hand on Dustin’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. God this kid smelled like the make-up counter at Macy’s. “You see, Dominatrix Cassie is enamored of hot wax play. After Pepe got naked and stretched out on his stomach, she shoved the unlit end of a candle in big Pepe’s ass and lit the wick. While waiting for the wax to melt, she cranked the torture rack—”

Dustin’s eyeballs bulged. “Torture rack?”

He nodded. “After she clamps restraints on the man’s ankles and wrists, she cranks his legs and arms out until he screams. If they aren’t loud enough, she cranks a little more. Truthfully, she likes it when their shackled hands and feet meet.”

“Fuck.” Dustin wrapped his arms around his chest, pushed his knees together and scowled at Cassie.

“Liar! I would never hurt anyone like that.” She kicked Quinn’s shin. “Don’t piss me off, bucko. I’m running out of places to hide the bodies.”

He fought the urge to laugh. She could be damn comical when she was pissed. “Thank you, Mistress Cassie. I do love it when you discipline me.” He winked. “You know how it turns me on.” He faced Dustin again. “Back to my story about Pepe. She’d crawled beneath the torture rack so she could force the man’s cock and balls into a cage.”

“Cage?” Dustin squeaked, his head whipped toward her and he stepped back.

Quinn nodded. “A little one, wired for electrical shocks.” His open hands mimicked the size of a coffee mug. “Poor Pepe was screaming, first in English and then in Spanish. Or was it Portuguese? Mistress Cassie thought they were shrieks of ecstasy.” He shrugged and lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “How was she to know Pepe had farted and shot the candle from his ass onto his back, setting his hair on fire.” He shook his head again. “Pepe was a hairy bastard. The poor sumbitch went up like a roman candle.”

Dustin gasped. “Holy hell.”

Cassie jerked the bill of Quinn’s ball cap. “Listen you lying idiot. I’m so mad at you right now, I could ram your balls into a cage. Although I’d need a bigger one than you claim I used on Pepe.” She pointed to his crotch. “See his jeans, Dustin? They look like his crotch has the mumps.”

Dustin forked his fingers in his hair. “You’re a crazy woman.” He pivoted toward Quinn. “Tell me, what happened to the dude, Pepe? Did he…did he live?”

“Oh, he’s fine, even with second-degree burns. I was there to put out the fire.” He aimed a grin at Cassie. “I’ve got a fair amount of experience at that.”

Dustin pointed at Cassie. “You are one sick bitch.” He scurried back to his friends.

Cassie whirled on Quinn. “What the hell was that about?”

He grabbed her elbow and marched her toward her table. “That was me clearing out the shark tank. Get your purse. You’re coming with me.” Now that his comedy routine was over, his anger returned with a vengeance. Little Miss Cassie was in for one hellacious lecture before he apologized for what he’d said at the fire station and took her home.

“Like hell!” Her plump lower lip stuck out, and she reached for her drink.

He snatched the glass from her hand and slammed it back on the table. “You don’t want to push me right now. Not with all the anger I’ve got rolling around in my gut. What were you thinking to let a strange guy put his hands on your ass?” He glanced at her two friends sitting at the table, both of whom were wide-eyed, having just sucked air over his words. “Which one of you three is the designated driver tonight? And don’t you dare tell me it was supposed to be her.” He jerked his head toward Cassie.

Sara meekly raised her hand. “I am.” She slid her cocktail in front of Misty. The three young women had shared an apartment for over a year. Quinn would sooner Cassie still lived with Wolf, but he understood her need to exert some independence. He’d just wished her roommates exerted a more mature attitude. Hell, if he had his way, her roomies would be a passel of nuns, especially after Cassie’s behavior tonight.

“I’ll see that she gets home safely, ladies.” Anger, scalding hot, seared part of his brain even as he snatched Cassie’s wrap and purse from Sara’s outstretched hands. He couldn’t get beyond the vision of another man touching Cassie. He shook her arm and marched her toward the door. “You’ll be lucky if I don’t paddle that fine ass of yours once I get you out to my Jeep.”

She aimed a finely waxed dark eyebrow at him, her heart-shaped face pulling at the possessiveness in his soul. “You don’t have the balls.”

CHAPTER THREE

Quinn shoved open the door and Cassie’s feet tangled as he jerked her through it, the fresh air a welcome relief on her skin after the stuffiness inside the bar.

“I want you to take a few deep breaths to help clear that booze buzz you’ve got goin’ on.” His familiar woodsy cologne overtook her senses when he hauled her against his hard chest and leaned to whisper in her ear. “ʼCause you just made the foolish mistake of telling me I don’t have the balls to do something. Little girl, you have no idea what I’ve done in the past, or what I’m capable of doing in the future.”

In the moonlight, augmented by the parking lot security lights, his eyes glittered an odd mixture of blue-grey beneath the bill of his black ball cap. His proclamation triggered an unlikely concoction of fright and craving that poured through her system like hot chocolate on peanut butter ice cream. The desire to lean into him and curl her fingers into his faded Harvard t-shirt was so keen she had to fight to resist.

“Why are you so angry with me?” In the three years she’d known him, he’d never revealed this aspect of his personality. “And don’t call me little girl.”

His hands settled at her waist. “Turning twenty-one doesn’t automatically make you an adult.”

“Yeah, well, bragging about your conquests doesn’t exactly make you a good lover either.” She was tired of hearing about the females in his life, knowing he’d never give her ten minutes of his time, much less a corner of his heart. Which, of course, was the problem. She wanted his whole womanizing heart, not just a jagged edge. She didn’t care how many women he’d had before her; she just wanted to be his last. Yeah, fat chance, Cassie. Wise up.

He wound his fingers around her upper arm and steered her toward his Wrangler. “You allowed a man to put his hands on you.”

If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn he’d spoken through clenched teeth as if he were pissed. But why? “We were slow dancing. People touch when they slow dance, or haven’t you noticed?” Earlier, on the dance floor, Quinn had deliberately circled her and Dustin twice, glaring as if he could kill, as if he were… Joy blossomed and warmed her soul. “Wait, are you jealous that someone had their hands on me?”

A harsh bark of laughter escaped. “Jealous? Me? Peanut, don’t go reading more into this than a good friend merely covering your back. You’re grasping at straws.”

Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe some overconfident man needed his buttons pushed. “I’m glad, because I do need to move on. Just because you don’t find me attractive doesn’t mean another man won’t feel differently if I give him half a chance.”

He stopped for an instant before his hold on her tightened and he marched her forward.

“Dustin gave me his cell number earlier. I’ll call him tomorrow and explain your wild story was just that, a wild story. Maybe I’ll have him over for some homemade lasagna.” If Quinn showed no qualms about her making his favorite dish for another man, then she’d have to face reality: the man she’d crushed on for years had no feelings for her.

“Lasagna?” Quinn backed her against his vehicle. “You’d make lasagna for him?”

“Well, yes. You’ve tasted my pot roast. It’s not always the best, but my lasagna—”

He grabbed her upper arms and shook her, his body practically vibrating with anger. “You make lasagna for no one, but me. Do you hear? Me.” As if the emotional force behind his words registered, a pained expression narrowed his eyes and pinched his lips. “Dammit, Cassie, you’re killing me here.” His head slowly inclined. “Killing me,” he groaned. “Surely,” he kissed one corner of her mouth. “Fucking,” he kissed the other side. “Killing me.” His lips made contact with hers and all the moisture in the upper half of her body dropped to the apex of her thighs.

Fingers that had dug into her arms seconds earlier now forked into her hair, holding her head while his lips molded and seduced hers, sipping, tasting, taunting.

Cassie backed farther into the metal of the Jeep as if she could absorb some of its steely strength because her legs were quickly turning to jelly. All these years, she’d jokingly called him hot lips, but she’d had no clue. Dear God in heaven. This is better than I ever dreamed.

His tongue brushed across the seam of her lips twice. “Open for me, angel.” His deep voice sent sensations up her spine like the stroke of a lover’s hand.

She did and his tongue swept in to lay claim, as if she hadn’t always been his. He tasted of beer and lime and sexual potency. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he stepped closer until their thighs touched, the heat from him nearly frying her brain cells.

His lips left hers and moved across her cheek to her jaw, where he kissed, bit and soothed with his tongue. Warm lips trailed down her neck, sucking, pulling moans from her throat. “When I saw you with that other guy, I nearly went insane. I wanted to get twenty kinds of possessive, no matter what I told you earlier. You’ve got me so freakin’ tied up in knots I can’t think straight. All I know is, at this moment, I want to mark you like some wild beast so no male will ever approach you again.”

“Yes, Quinn!”

As if her exclamation had carried a bucket of ice water, he broke contact and his hands lifted in a stop gesture. He stepped back and shook his head. “I did not say that.”

Her heart beat so fast, she could barely breathe. “Yes…yes, you did.” No way was she going to allow him to recant those words. She’d been waiting for three long years to hear them.

“This,” he motioned with two fingers from him to her and back again, “is not happening. I’m not…we’re not…” He spun and inhaled loudly as if to purge something from his body. “Fuck.”

She grabbed his arm and spun him around. Having two brothers, she knew how to get in a guy’s face. “Why not? Give me one good reason, because this running hot and cold thing you’re doing is driving me nuts.” She jabbed her index finger into his pecs. “One minute you tell me you’re not interested.” Her second finger-jab was harder and his dark eyebrows rose. “Then you show up here and kiss me senseless.” A firmer finger-jab made Quinn grunt. “The next minute you’re pushing me away again.” She curled her fingers into a fist and bumped his pecs—and God knew how she loved them. “You know what, Quinn Gallagher? I think, when it comes to me, you’re chicken shit.”

He grabbed her fist and wrenched her hand behind her. “Damn you, Cassie.” His other hand fisted in her hair, jerking her head back. “Stop pushing me.” His handsome face morphed into a mask of dark scowls. “Can’t you get it through that pretty head I don’t want more than friendship from you?” He leaned his forehead against hers. “God sakes, don’t do this to me. To yourself. I adore you,” he exhaled a ragged breath, “but as a friend, a jogging buddy, someone to hang out with.” He stepped back. “Nothing more.”

She took in his tortured expression. Which one of them was in denial here? What the hell was his problem? Her arms wrapped around her waist as if to shield herself from any more emotional blows. She knew what her problem was. It was loving six-foot-three of finely corded muscle with zero capacity for deep emotion. “You can put away your spear now. You’ve wounded me twice in one evening with the truth according to Quinn Gallagher. I can’t take anymore. I’d ask what you’re doing here, why you aren’t at the station, but what the hell does it matter?”

He slid fingertips into the front pockets of his faded jeans, the muscles of his shoulders and arms shifting under the cotton material of his shirt. “I took some personal time. I need to apologize for the things I said to you. I hurt you and I’m sorry. It was all uncalled for.”

“Wolf made you come, didn’t he?” This had her brother’s imprint all over it. He’d been doting on her since the fire that took their parents’ lives. Tears burned the back of her throat and pricked her eyes. “So you took off work to ease tensions with your jogging partner. My feelings as a woman meant nothing.” She could play the guilt card with him. Hadn’t Misty told her to make him feel like an ass for hurting her? A car pulled into the parking lot, drawing her attention for a beat before she looked at his tense face again. No, playing emotional games was never her thing. “Look, it’s obvious I can’t hide the way I feel about you. Maybe it’s best if we stay away from each other.”

“Cassie.” There was a deep strain in his voice.

Twin tears spilled over and tumbled down her cheeks. “You can’t have it both ways. You can’t keep me around for a buddy and then reject my feelings.” She tugged her cell from her purse and scrolled through her contacts. “I’m calling a taxi to take me home. Go on back to the station.” A hot bath, comfy sleep clothes, a quart of chocolate brownie ice cream and a few hours of crying and maybe…maybe she could make it through the night.

Quinn unlocked the door. “Get in. We’re not done talking. When we are, I’ll take you home.”

She couldn’t endure one more minute with him, not when she knew how he really felt about her.

“No. We’re done. Have a good life, Quinn.” She’d made two steps before his arm banded around her waist and lifted her.

“I said we’re not through talking, dammit. Now, get your sweet ass in my Jeep.” He plopped her on the seat and buckled her in. “If you want me out of your life, my friend, fine. But before I walk away, I have some things to teach you.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “You don’t have a damn thing to teach me. Although I am a little intrigued how you knew about hot wax play. Isn’t that some BDSM shit? Beyond that, we have nothing to discuss.”

He shrugged. “We watch the occasional movie at the station.”

She glared at Quinn, sauntering in front of his vehicle. So he enjoyed watching dirty movies. What guy didn’t? Was that what made him disinterested? Her innocence? She glared out the passenger window and swiped at a tear. Hell, the closest thing she knew to sex games was Spin the Bottle—and if that wasn’t damn pathetic, what was?

He settled behind the steering wheel and clicked his seatbelt. “How about a walk on the beach?”

“How about you telling me why I don’t do it for you?”

“Peanut.” His voice was almost a moan of remorse.

“Don’t you peanut me. Am I so ugly, so immature, so annoying?” She lifted her open hands in a helpless gesture. “What? I’m good enough to hang out with, to jog with, to go see a movie with, but not date. Why? You’ve already humiliated me today, so fess up. Tell me why the thought of our being a romantic couple makes you want to throw up.”

He started the engine and shoved the Jeep into reverse. “I never said that. You’re overreacting.”

She punched him. Once, twice, three times in the arm. “Overreacting? After all you’ve put me through today? You arrogant asshole.” She slapped his arm again and shifted in her seat so her back was toward him. Good god, what a day.

“Would you settle down?” He pulled onto route 60 and sped toward Clearwater Beach. Since he had the top off his Wrangler, the cool evening air blew over them. Cassie wrapped her black knit shawl tighter around her shoulders. Both were silent, the tension between them hanging thicker than early morning fog off the gulf. He hung a left onto South Gulfview Boulevard and zipped into the parking lot at Mossie’s Island Grill.

“You’re favorite place. Have you eaten, pea…Cassie?” He undid his seatbelt and shifted in his seat.

“Not hungry.”

“Well, I am. Come on. Let’s get something. You know you love Mossie’s food.”

I’ll never be able to come here again. How often have we come here together?

After placing an order to go, the two of them removed their shoes, locking them in the wheel hub along with her purse. Spending time with him alone on a darkened, deserted beach would have been a dream come true a day or so ago. Now, it was merely another nail hammered into the coffin of her dreams. How many ways could he tell her goodbye?

He removed a blanket from the back of the Jeep and passed it to her before he shrugged into a jean jacket he discovered jammed under some tools. She followed him toward the beach while he carried the bag of food and a six-pack. Gone was their usual jovial rapport. An uncomfortable silence settled over them, and she wished she were home where she could fall apart in solitude.

“How’s your soft crab sandwich?” Quinn shoved a curly fry into his mouth.

Is that what she was eating? Her taste buds were suffering from a broken heart, too, if such a pitiful thing were possible. “It’s okay.” She drained her second beer and reached for a third.

His warm hand covered hers. “Go easy on that stuff.”

She popped the top and guzzled, not because she was thirsty, but because she was through taking orders from anyone.

Quinn crumpled the empty French fry bag and shoved it into their take-out tote. His arms angled over his raised knees. “Look, I know you’re pissed, but you need someone to teach you a few things.”

The can of Coors stilled near her lips. “Oh, really? I suppose you are the fountain of feminine knowledge.” She finished off the beer. Between the greasy fries and three beers, her stomach had expanded to the size of Eagle Lake.

“I know enough not to take a drink of anything I’ve walked away from to use the restroom or dance. Someone could easily slip in a date rape drug. Remember that.”

She nodded and belched. “Got it. Quinn is afraid of being raped.”

He grabbed her shoulders and pressed her down on the blanket. “You think this is funny?” His breath skimmed her face. “If you’re not more aware of your surroundings, one day you’re going to wake up in a strange place, naked, sore and bleeding from the rectum. You won’t know who or how many men have had you…or in what ways.”

How dare he? “I’m not that kind of person.” Her stomach rolled in time with the waves.

He tossed his hat aside and his eyes widened in the moonlight. “Are you that naïve? The drug will render you powerless. Read up on it. You dress in scanty I’m-yours-for-the-taking clothes and sashay into a bar? No wonder guys come flocking over. Hell, you’re a damn attractive woman, Cassie.”

“Just not attractive enough for you.”

“Don’t you get it? Our problem isn’t with you. It’s with me.”

She pushed him aside and sat. The shoreline seemed to tilt for a few seconds. She glanced at Quinn over her shoulder. “Are you gay?”

“Hell no, I’m not gay.”

“Oh yeah? Show me.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Oh no, little one. I’m not falling for that challenge.”

“And I’m not begging anymore. I’m through.” Her pride could only take so much trampling. She stood and bent to gather their trash. It took three tries to grab an empty beer can. Damn thing kept moving. “Take me home, Quinn. My ego can’t survive another beating.”

He stood and reached for her. “Peanut.”