who couldn’t hang onto his wife. What the hell would he know about turning on a woman?”
Graci-Ella took Boyd’s hand and shot a glance at Darryl. “You’d be surprised at how completely he can turn on a woman and barely touch her.”
Boyd’s arm slipped around her waist. “Would you like to walk to our apparatus garage? You could look at some of the equipment to see if there’s any you want to include in your pictures as a backdrop?”
“Sounds like a great idea.” She stood, snatched her camera and followed him down the hallway. “I’ll snap some photos of your equipment.”
Boyd stopped on a dime and she rammed into his back. His hand swung out like a stop sign on a bus. “Don’t say stuff like that to me unless we’re alone.”
“You’re the one who loaded up my backend yesterday. After you picked me up.” She smirked at her double entendre.
His back straight, he charged ahead. “Careful. I’ll sue you for sexual harassment. I see how you are. All tease.” He grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. “And stop wearing that damn perfume! You drive me freaking insane.”
“Okay, no perfume.” His arm was around her waist, holding her close, but he wouldn’t look at her. “Look at me. Is that so hard?”
“Oh, Sweetness, you don’t even want to mention the word hard right about now. You have a way of teasing…and you speaking up in my defense back there threw me for a loop. I want to make love to you so badly right now. Slowly. Sweetly.”
This man was a rare combination of tenderness, strength and blatant sexuality that drew her near him so strongly she wanted to burrow into his warmth and spend a couple hours there, in his arms, skin to skin, lips to lips, and fingertips exploring.
“Yeah, me too,” she breathed.
“So, what is this we’re doing here? Teasing? Having a good time? Or dancing toward something more serious? He looked at her then, his gaze hot. “Because I have to be damn honest and tell you I don’t want any man touching you, but me. Is that clear? I know I have no right to lay down demands, but…” He backed her against the wall, heat rolling off him. “I want to get to know you better, not just sexually,” his voice lowered to an intimate whisper. “Though that craving is eating at me from the inside out right about now, but I also want to know you better as a friend, a woman, someone I can talk to when I have a need to. You make me feel like a man again, and damn if I don’t need that.” His hand reached out to touch her hair. “Need you.”
Her palms itched to forge a trail up his bare chest. “I need you too, which is so unlike me.” Firemen were passing by and crisscrossing the wide hallway. And the two of them were voicing their personal desires for a relationship neither was probably ready for; still, the man was her captivation. He had been since she laid eyes on him. “If you think for a minute that you’re not sexy as hell, then your ex-wife is still controlling you. Now, show me your equipment.”
Boyd leaned his head back and laughed. “God, woman. Come on, I’ll show you my bright red fire truck.”
On their return from the large garage area full of huge fire trucks and ambulances, Graci-Ella told Boyd she’d already decided not to use Kissy Lips in the calendar. “From what I’ve seen of the rest of the squad, he doesn’t measure up to their standards, physically or heroically. I don’t want any trouble out of him. He reminds me of some of the whack jobs I have to represent. Could you sit near him?” Her blue eyes implored him; how could he possibly resist.
Boyd squeezed her hand. “Whatever I can do to help, all you have to do is ask.” They entered the dining area where the firefighters and EMT’s, as they ate, were glancing over the calendars she had bought with her.
Graci-Ella smiled when she opened her briefcase, removing her tablet, pencil and tape measure. “I’ll need all of you men to take off your shirts, and that includes you, Captain Steele. I love the highlights of grey you’ve got going on in your hair.”
Quinn leaned as he walked behind the captain. “What she’s trying to say in a nice way is old farts can be sexy too.”
The captain raised his coffee mug. “Well, thanks, Quinn. I didn’t think you noticed.” The rest of the men laughed, including Ivy Jo and Emily.
Boyd slid his chair behind Darryl’s, so he’d be nearby in case the jackass got rowdy or mouthy over Graci-Ella’s decision.
She waved some papers. “I also have a spousal agreement form for your wife, husband or significant other to sign, giving their approval for you to be in the calendar. Please turn them into the captain as soon as you can, so I can move ahead on this project.” She waved the yellow forms. “These puppies are important. I don’t want a jealous mate chasing me down. I could probably outrun him or her, but not if they’re pointing a gun at me and I’m in high heels.”
Everyone laughed and teased her. Before long, one of the guys nicknamed her Stilettoes, which she graciously accepted on a giggle. “I think I like it.” She wiggled back and forth which got Boyd’s sex meter revving, as if it hadn’t been on full charge since he first laid eyes on her this morning.
“I’m going to need about six of those forms. Maybe even ten.” Darryl leaned on the back legs of his chair as he boasted. Other firefighters groaned.
Other than flicking Darryl’s ear with his thumb and index finger, Boyd didn’t move. The rest of the squad wasted no time in shucking their shirts and posing for her as she looked at each one, asking them questions in a sexy voice, taking their bicep and chest measurements, for God’s sake, and noting it all down. Boyd kept his jealousy on a slow burn, mainly because she was all business about everything.
The nickname angle evidently fascinated her, for she asked every fireperson what the rest of the squad called him or her. When she reached Kissy Lips, she cocked her head to the side and frowned. “I don’t know. You’re pretty beefy.”
His head reared back as if she’d slapped him. “What are you saying, bitch? That I’m too fat?”
Boyd had him on the floor, his knee across his neck before the chair he sat in had a chance to clatter onto the tile floor. “We don’t call our feminine co-workers that name and certainly not our guests. Apologize.”
“Like hell!” Darryl Weir’s face was crimson with anger.
“Graci-Ella did you measure the captain yet? Why don’t you do that while Kissy Lips thinks of a suitable apology?”
“I’ll kill you, you big bastard,” Darryl spat.
Boyd spared him a glare. “Yeah, you work on that.”
The captain, dressed again after being measured, stroked and purred over by Graci-Ella, stalked toward Boyd and raised his eyebrows. “Did this mouthy kid think of a request for forgiveness yet? Oh, did I overhear you talking to your babysitter about Matt’s temperature earlier?”
“Yeah,” He ran a hand across the back of his neck, squeezing the tight muscles. His knee was still on Darryl’s neck as he struggled to get away from Boyd. “We’ll
