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Chapter 1
Lia
With four brothers—allcops, not firemen—I’m not afraid of any guy. Especially not guys like these.
Even if their, I meanour, captain doesn’t want a female on the crew.
“What are you playing?” I ask my new teammates innocently as they deal another round of poker to kill time at the station.
Rocket—the friendliest, but possibly dorkiest—grins. “Poker—know how to play?”
I twirl the end of my dark ponytail around my finger. “Yeah, I think so.”
James, who is the least friendly of the guys—not counting the captain—folds his arms over his large chest. “We don’t play for money, though.”
I know what’s coming and I’m not afraid. “Oh yeah?” I’m pretty good at playing innocent. “What do you play for?”
“Have you heard of strip poker?”
Rocket flushes slightly, clearly thrilled by the suggestion. “Yeah, it’s just for fun,” he leers. “That way if we get a call, the person who took off the most takes the longest to get ready.”
Uh huh.Right.
I pull a chair up to the table. “Okay. I’m in.”
“You are?” Rocket’s eyes pop, like he can’t believe how lucky they got.
James still looks like he tasted a lemon, but he starts shuffling and deals the cards.
I sit back, hold my cards and hide my inner smirk. If these asshole firemen believe they can haze me into taking my clothes off and becoming their wet dream fire maiden, I’ll let them harbor that impossible fantasy—for at least another half hour.
See—here’s what I know. Firemen are nicer than cops. More predictable. They have that same hero desire but it burns—heh—brighter. They’re not quite as power-hungry or controlling. Except for the captain. They call him Blaze—I’m guessing because of a temper. He’s got a streak of controlling cop for sure. It’s a trait that I hate in my brothers, but unfortunately makes my knees go weak in a boss. Especially a fire captain boss.
The rest of these boys were the football stars in high school—good-looking, rigid thinkers, slightly chauvinistic, but generally nice guys. No one’s gonna actually get naked here and they know it. Oh, they probably think they’re gonna get an eyeful of my bra and panties, maybe even harbor hope of seeing some boobage—not that there’s much to see—but they don’t know who they’re up against.
If anyone knows how to play poker, it’s me.
Again—four brothers.
What my brothers don’t know is that I also know how to play dingy sex kitten and make stupid would-be poker champs think I’m in over my head.
Which means, at the end ofthisgame, these boys are going to be the ones sitting in their boxer briefs, and I’m going to be using my phone to take pictures I can forever hold over their heads.
“So, Lia,” Scott, my thirty-something hot but ignorant new colleague drawls, “It’s you.”
“We need a better name for her,” Rocket says.
“Yeah, too bad Rocket’s already taken,” I say drily.
He grins good-naturedly. “How about Sparks? She’s definitely a little spark plug, plus she’s always lighting matches.”
Damn, they noticed that. I just burned a few outside between fires to let off steam. I’ll have to be more careful.
“It’s your bet, Sparks,” James says without a smile. “Let me guess, you’re starting with your boots.”
“Nope.” I make a show of slowly peeling my red FDNY t-shirt over my head. “I’ll open.” All three of the other firefighters on duty tonight stare. “Let’s start with the shirt. That way you guys can get a nice look at what’snotcoming off tonight.” I squeeze both my breasts through the very chaste, full-coverage pink sports bra.
Scott’s hand drops under the table, presumably to rearrange his junk. “I see.” He clears his throat. “Didn’t expect that from you.”
