Sizzling Desire

“Yeah, yeah,” Tyler said, glancing back at them from behind the wheel. “Peter, you only wish you could find yourself a woman who wanted to see you for more than a day.”

All the guys laughed, but the laughter quickly faded when the billowing smoke from the structure fire came into view.

“There it is,” Hunter said.

The pump truck came to a stop. No more joking, they started affixing their helmets and masks.

“That’s thick black smoke,” Mason said.

“The building needs to be ventilated,” Hunter added. No one could go into a building with dense hot smoke without an outlet for the fire to escape. Rapid reintroduction of oxygen could cause the building to blow.

In other words, a back draft. Back drafts had claimed the lives of many a firefighter.

“Is anyone in the building?” the chief was asking the crowd of onlookers when Hunter and the rest of the guys jumped off the truck.

“No,” a woman said. She was barefoot, wearing a robe, and her blond hair was disheveled. “My husband and I smelled smoke, so we ran out. It’s just the two of us.”

The chief quickly assessed the fire. “Richards, Lovett—get that ladder on the roof. Take an ax and start ventilation. Wickham and Rogers, get to the back of the building and do the same.”

The men he’d named sprang into action. Omar and Hunter worked at getting the hoses. Tyler went to the pump truck’s controls.

Flames shot through the roof when the two firefighters there put a hole in it. Richards jerked backward, almost falling off the ladder as he tried to escape the sudden burst of flame. A collective gasp erupted in the crowd. Once Richards regained his footing on the ladder, people began to clap.

“Wickham, Rogers,” the chief said into the walkie-talkie affixed to his jacket. “How’s it looking back there?”

“Window’s open now,” one of them responded. “This one’s burning real hot.”

“Holland,” the chief said to Hunter, addressing him by his surname.

“Yes, Chief?”

“You and Ewing get a hose around to the back, start fighting that fire.”

“Yes, sir.” Hunter and Omar lifted a heavy hose onto their shoulders, the two of them carrying it to the back of the building. Hunter hit the nozzle to release the water, and the hose jerked backward from the pressure as he did. They immediately began attacking the angry flames shooting through the smashed open window. It felt good being back on the job. Hunter had missed this. The adrenaline rush of fighting a fire that wanted to destroy and take as many casualties as possible.

Not if Hunter could help it.

More firefighters arrived from another firehouse, and together everyone attacked the flames. The smoke turned from black to white as it mixed with moisture and rose into the air in a giant plume.

Red angry flames reached through the broken window like tentacles trying to claw at them. Hunter held on to the taut hose and aimed, blasting the fire. “I don’t think so.”

And when the flames began to recede, replaced with more white smoke, satisfaction filled him. Oh, yeah, it definitely felt good to be back in action. And at least while he was fighting this fire, he wasn’t thinking about the woman who’d left him overheated in his bed, wanting more.

Chapter 6 (#u41495bee-e4b4-5da7-9e82-257b00c646ab)

On Monday morning, Lorraine whipped her car into an empty parking spot just a block down from the building that housed the lawyer’s office. She got out and put enough money in the meter for two hours. Then she glanced at her cell phone. She’d made good time. She had ten minutes to spare before her appointment.

She walked briskly toward the tall gray-bricked building. She sucked in a nervous breath before pushing through the revolving doors.

The lawyer had given her specific instructions, so she knew she was going to the third floor, then turning right to head to suite 309. She passed well-dressed people moving swiftly across the floor. Places to go, people to see. Lorraine’s heels clicked against the marble, seeming to accentuate the rapid beating of her heart.

She glanced at the people around her. Slick business suits, pencil skirts, blazers. They looked like executives or other serious business types. Lorraine swallowed. Should she have worn a suit as opposed to the floral skirt and cotton blouse she’d chosen?

She reached the bank of elevators and stared at her reflection in the polished metal doors. Why was she doubting herself? She looked perfectly acceptable. After all, she wasn’t here to apply for a job. She was here for a meeting. It was just her nerves getting to her. Meeting with a lawyer about a will was so official.

Yesterday, she’d decided to come here. Today, she couldn’t shake the tightening in her belly at the idea of seeing Douglas’s family. Surely they would be here. Would they be angry to see a stranger at what they’d understandably expect to be a private family meeting? And would they give her a hard time regarding whatever had been left to her?

The elevator doors opened, and Lorraine’s palms started to sweat. Everyone waiting piled on, but she didn’t move.

“You coming?” a man asked. He held his arm across the elevator doors to prevent them from closing.

Lorraine straightened her spine and forced a smile. “Yes.”

She walked onto the elevator. Someone had already pressed the button for the third floor, so she stood and waited for it to ascend. Depending on how things played out in the meeting, if Douglas left her something significant and the family objected, she wouldn’t fight with them to keep whatever he’d intended for her to have. She hated family quarrels like this over material things, and she didn’t want to be a part of one. Though on a personal note, she wouldn’t mind giving Douglas’s family members a piece of her mind. Where had they been when their father, brother or whoever he was to them had been suffering and dying?

The elevator landed on the third floor. Lorraine inhaled a deep breath, then stepped off. She saw suite 309 immediately. It was the office directly to the right of the elevator. It boasted a large frosted-glass window pane and double doors. The name of the firm was inscribed in the glass to the left of the doors, and made quite the impression. It was certainly a more elaborate office than she’d expected, the kind of law office that Lorraine imagined people with substantial money would use.

She pulled open the right-side door, finding it heavy. Inside, there was a large silver desk structure to the left and chairs on the opposite wall, where three people currently sat, waiting. The receptionist, a young woman with an olive complexion and a full mane of curly black hair, smiled at her instantly.

Lorraine looked at the wall clock behind the reception desk. She had five minutes until the appointment. Perfect. She’d timed it so that she would arrive at the lawyer’s office just in time for the meeting. She didn’t want to linger in the waiting room and possibly see Douglas’s family members, who might have questions for her.

Lorraine made her way over to the reception desk. “Hello,” she said to the receptionist. “I’m here to meet with Joseph Finkel.”

“Are you Lorraine Baxter?”

“Yes, I am.”

The receptionist got to her feet. “Follow me. They’re ready for you.”

Lorraine’s stomach flip-flopped. They’re. Just how many people were in the meeting? One? Two? A small army? Again, she wondered if she should have told the lawyer that she wasn’t interested in whatever Douglas wanted to leave her.

Why are you so nervous about this? she asked herself as she followed the receptionist. But she knew why. She was fearing the worst. She’d seen far too many family members fight about assets right after a loved one had passed, and often even right in front of the dying person lying helpless on a bed.

The receptionist stopped in front of mahogany double doors at the end of the hallway. Etched into a gold plate on the door was the word Boardroom. The receptionist opened the right side of the door and stepped beyond the threshold. “Mr. Finkel, Lorraine Baxter.”

There was a middle-aged, dark-haired man at the end of the boardroom table near the door, and he immediately stood. “Thank you, Lucia,” the man said, then smiled in Lorraine’s direction.

Lucia retreated down the hallway, and Joseph walked toward Lorraine. Extending his hand, he said, “Hello, Lorraine.”

Planting a smile on her face, hoping to hide her nervousness, she approached the lawyer and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you,” she said.

“Nice to meet you, as well.”

Lorraine’s eyes wandered around the room, and she saw that there was only one other person at the table. A man sitting just to the left of the lawyer’s seat with his back facing her.

“Is this everyone?” Lorraine asked.

“Yes. It’s just the two of you.”