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Lana tried to get Sean on the phone all the next day while she picked up her car, then her dry cleaning, cleaned her house, and washed her car, but he wasn’t picking up.
The truth of the matter was that before she had seduced Sean in the shower, they’d tiptoed around each other, careful never to acknowledge the sexual tension that crackled whenever they were close. Did they each sense that it would complicate their lives, their working relationship, and their friendship? That didn’t take much brainpower. Of course, they did.
Lana finally gave up at about six o’clock and decided a game of pool, conversation and a cold beer would sit well with her. She knew she could always get some action from the guys at Mahoney’s. Firefighters had made that bar their home away from home along with the boys and girls in blue.
The bar was dim, crowded and noisy. Lana stood in the doorway giving her eyes time to adjust and looking for people she knew. Spying some people in the corner, she wound her way through the maze of tables.
Lana slapped a man on the back when she reached the table. He turned his head and gave her a full grin.
“Hey, Dempsey, good to see you.”
Scott Mason had been one of her father’s probie’s when he’d been at the eighty-second. He was now in his forties and a veteran firefighter.
His wife, Susan, smiled at Lana and moved over to make room for Lana to sit down at the crowded table.
Also at the table was SDPD patrol cop Rosa Santana, a six-foot formidable Hispanic Amazon. Her burly boyfriend firefighter, Steven Anderson, a wet behind the ears probie at the eighty-second, sat next to her. Although he was young and eager, he was also very good.
And Pete Meadows sat at the end of the table, rounding out the party at six people. He smiled at Lana and raised his bottle.
Steven eyed Lana and smiled. “Heard you pulled O’Neill and two victims out of Monday’s four-alarm. Went through a wall to get them out. Would have liked to have been on duty when that alarm came through.”
“It was hairy there for a while, but we got everyone out.”
“Always good when you save all the victims,” Steven said.
Pete piped in. “Yeah, the sparks were flying around the fire ground, but it was nothing compared to the fireworks between Dempsey and Bryant.”
Scott turned to Lana, “Don’t tell me you were trying to tell the know-it-all-SOB anything. Waste of breath, Lana.”
Pete chuckled, and Rosa leaned her arms on the table. “Don’t let them give you a hard time. They’re just afraid of Bryant’s legendary temper.” She pointed at Pete. “Get her a beer since you brought it up. Sounds like she deserves it.”
Susan Mason raised her empty bottle and moved it from side to side. “You owe me one, too. You passed out before your round last time.”
Her husband leaned forward and slapped a twenty-dollar bill on the table. He looked at Lana, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. “Her beer is on me. I would have given my eyeteeth to see Dempsey standing up to Bryant.”
Smiling into his eyes, she tilted her head. “I call them like I see them, and Bryant was wrong.”
“Oooooh,” the three firefighters said in unison.
Steven said, “Telling Bryant he was wrong. I wished I’d been on duty.” Steven threw in a twenty. “Her next one is on me.”
Susan laughed and applauded. “That is rich. Taking potshots at Bryant’s ego. That must have hurt,” she said, her eyes bright with delight. “That guy has an ego to rival Napoleon.” She looked at Lana, raising her empty bottle in salute. “Congratulations, Lana. About time someone put him in his place.”
Lana cocked her head, her expression wry. “It was definitely my pleasure.”
The waitress came over, and soon after that, Lana had a beer in front of her.
“We were just going to play some pool. Check out these new tables Tim put in. You up for it?” Steven asked.
He downed the rest of his beer and then gave Lana a light jab in the shoulder. “Come on. It’ll be quieter in there.”
When they got to the back, Steven was right. It was much quieter in there. Five of the six gleaming pool tables were already in use. Lana’s group claimed the sixth one. She studied the tables as she passed. Standard billiards tables, but they were high quality. Looked like Tim didn’t spare any expense.
The memory of the endless games of pool she’d shared with Sean made her throat tight. Although he wouldn’t admit it, she knew he went easy on her. If Sean wasn’t such a nice guy, he could have made scads of money as a pool shark.
Rosa didn’t want to play, so Lana sat at the table with her, watching the men. After two games, Pete came over to her and leaned toward her. “Don’t you want to play, Lana?”
She looked up into Pete’s face and smiled at the mischievous grin there. Then her smile faded when she saw Sean standing in the doorway to the pool tables. His gaze riveted to the intimate proximity of Pete’s body.
