Hot In Here. Susan Lyons

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      Scott rose and turned to look.

      A black Jeep TJ had pulled off the quiet residential street into the fire-hall driveway. The top was down so he had a clear view of the driver—a woman with sunglasses and long, shiny black hair. Even before his mind registered that the sunglasses had pink frames, matching the Jeep’s seat covers, he knew it was Jenny Yuen.

      His pulse kicked up.

      She parked the Jeep in one of the slots at the side of the driveway.

      When she swung down from the driver’s seat, Little Man said, “And getting sweeter.”

      A pale pink T-shirt and white cotton pants showed off tanned skin and hugged her slim curves. Man, this girl could almost persuade him that small really was more beautiful than big.

      She wore pink sandals again, with higher heels than she’d been wearing Friday night. High enough so that, when she walked, they made her hips sway. Definitely a turn-on.

      And he’d been inside this little sexpot.

      “Feel like turning the hose on her,” John-Boy Boyd said. “Bet she’d look fine in a wet–T-shirt contest.”

      Scott, who’d been having the same thought, glared at him.

      “Hey, Softy, that’s the fox you were hustling Friday night,” the lieutenant said. “Right?”

      “She’s a journalist,” Scott said. “She needs to, uh, finish the interview.”

      When he and Jenny had set this up, he’d been thinking it was a chance to see if he really wanted to spend more time with her, get to know her. Now, every cell in his body—especially those in his groin—was screaming, Yes!

      Jenny’d taken off her sunglasses, pulled out her camera and was snapping shots of the guys and the engine.

      “‘Finish the interview’?” the lieutenant said. “That what you young guys call it these days? Dontcha mean—”

      “Finish the interview!” Scott snapped, wishing he could tell his superior officer to fuck off.

      As he stepped toward Jenny, she kept the camera to her face and he could hear it clicking. When she put it down, he saw twinkling brown eyes.

      “How come every time I see you you’re soaking wet?” she teased.

      Soaking wet. The words made him remember the crotch of her black thong, how wet she’d been. For him.

      His mom and sister always told him he had a transparent face. Couldn’t keep a secret no matter how hard he tried.

      Now, he guessed Jenny’d agree. She must’ve read his thoughts because her eyes opened wider. She ducked her head, which made her hair slide down in wings on each side of her face.

      Scott felt so hot, pretty soon his damp clothes would dry from the heat of his skin.

      “Who’s your girlfriend, Softy?” the lieutenant asked as the guys walked over to join him and Jenny.

      “Gonna introduce us?” John-Boy chimed in.

      Now, there was a surefire way of dousing a hard-on. He was relieved, but also pissed at them for breaking the moment.

      “Sure. Jenny, meet Little Man Mancuso, John-Boy Boyd, and you’ll remember the lieutenant, Bulldog Spievak.” He was pushing it, using their nicknames rather than given names.

      John-Boy stepped forward first, hand outstretched. “Johnson Boyd, Jenny. Real pleased to meet you.” And real reluctant to let go of her hand.

      “Tony Mancuso.” Damned if Little Man didn’t actually raise her hand to his lips.

      “And I sure remember you,” the lieutenant said, almost drooling like his namesake. “You just call me Bulldog, honey. For my big brown eyes.”

      Jenny laughed with apparent delight. “It’s so great to meet all of you. I’d love to get your thoughts about Scott’s—” She broke off, darted him a mischievous glance. “Sorry, I mean Softy’s winning Mr. February.”

      “A fluke,” John-Boy said, grinning.

      “Nah,” Little Man chipped in. “It says a lot for our fire hall.”

      “How do you figure?” Jenny cocked her head.

      Little Man winked. “We send our ugliest guy, and he creams the competition. Hell, if we’d all competed, we’d have booked up the whole calendar.”

      Jenny chuckled. “Good point. I know I’d buy that calendar.”

      Scott groaned. Damn, she was flirting with them. All of them except him.

      Then she tilted her head and studied Little Man with a considering look. “The question is, can you all dance as well as Scott?”

      “Better,” John-Boy answered promptly. “Speaking for myself, that is. You let me take you to the Roxy one Friday night and I’ll show you.”

      Steaming, Scott jerked his head, caught John-Boy’s eye and shot him a look that said “mine.” Besides, wasn’t the other firefighter already dating someone?

      John-Boy tossed him a cocky grin. It told Scott he’d just been fooling around. Winding Scott up, to see if he’d stake his claim.

      And he had. On a girl he’d barely met.

      Jenny was studying the guys, all of them more than a foot taller than her. How could a girl who looked like a tiny doll have complete control over four giant firefighters?

      Her gaze settled on Scott. “How’d you get so wet?” she asked. That gaze took its time, taking in the damp cotton that hugged his chest, then traveling down to where the cloth clung to his package. A package that was growing again under her scrutiny.

      “The pisser hasn’t learned how to control his hose?” she teased.

      The other guys exploded in laughter.

      “Nah,” Scott said. “It’s the rest of them. You know how kids love splashing everyone in sight? Well, some kids never grow up.”

      That was how all these hazing rituals struck him. Childish. He’d come here to do a man’s job, and he got treated like the new kid in elementary school.

      And right now he was sick of all the attention she and the guys were paying each other. After all, she’d come to see him, Mr. February, hadn’t she? “You wanted an interview?” he reminded her.

      “Mmm.” She opened that same pink backpack she’d been carrying Friday night and brought out a tape recorder. “Anyone mind if I turn this on? It’s way easier—and more accurate—than scribbling thousands of notes.”

      No one objected so she pushed a button and then set the machine in the top of her open bag. “Okay, tell me how Scott came to enter the calendar competition in the first place, and СКАЧАТЬ