Hot As Blazes (2 page)

Big Dawg eyed her a moment and kicked back in his chair. “Let me guess. Small town girl heads to Cali for big surfing. Meets Hollywood boyfriend while competing. He stuffs your bags with drugs or whatever and leaves you to take his rap?”

Jo nodded. So, this guy had been around the block. Mr. Hollywood had been Vic, a teammate turned lover. A rich boy from a powerful family in Florida not California. “It was Ecstasy.”

“He made you a blind mule.” He frowned.

Dumb ass. Blind mule. Not a hell of a lot of difference. “After DEA figured out I didn’t know anything, they wanted Hollywood’s suppliers. They thought he’d flip if they incarcerated me, but he didn’t give a shit about me. Obviously. Only he didn’t know I had a list of his cell contacts.”

Surfer gossip pimped him as womanizer, not a drug dealer. Her slip in judgment cost her a night behind bars, her scholarship, and her place on the surf team. Not one of her teammates clued her in to Vic’s dealing, yet they all had stories to share when her lawyer probed. Friends like those she didn’t need.

“Well, this should do it.” He handed her a clipboard full of papers. “Sign on the highlighted lines and you’ll be on the road to being a regular citizen again.”

The probation had been a formality to keep track of her. With Vic behind bars, her felony would be expunged. She exited the office a free woman and hopped in Bobby’s cruiser. “Thanks for pulling your professional strings.”

He pulled onto the beach road, bound for Ocean Rescue. “Damn, Jo, the captain knows you. You worked as a lifeguard for him every summer until you left for college. All the fire and police brass figured you were set-up.”

“I know, but I don’t want Dad’s name or yours being dragged through the mud because of my stupidity.”

“It’ll be okay, sis.” He pulled into the parking lot and kissed her cheek. “I’ll hit the DMV later today and transfer the Broncosaurus into your name.”

She smiled at the nickname he’d given the truck as a kid. Now, the vehicle held so many memories of their dad, they couldn’t bear to part with it.

“How about a vanity plate?” A smart-ass cop grin followed. “CA SURFR.”

She glowered over her shades and slammed the car door.

“Happy four wheeling, and watch for the tourons. They don’t respect Big Blue or the tow.” He winked.

She waved, laughing at his lingo for moronic tourists and the ocean’s undertow.

Teamed with a college student, she settled into her lifeguard role with ease. The smell of sunscreen and sea salt hovered on an offshore breeze. While the ocean lapped the shore in a waveless repose, they reunited lost children with their parents and treated jellyfish stings.

Before long, her second cousin arrived in a yellow rescue department pick-up doing his supervisor rounds. Crows’ feet lined Mike’s face, his lean form tanned from endless days in the sun. “Welcome back, cuz.”

She hopped from her lifeguard chair, half expecting a smart remark. “Thanks.”

“Heard the west coast circuit didn’t take kindly to your southern charms.” He gave her a hug.

“Difference of opinion.”

“Well, we got a history of hostile Indians and surly pirates on this sandbar. Nothing wrong with one of our surfers putting us on the map, too.” He offered a high-five.

She slapped his palm.

So much for hiding out and laying low, the biggest gossip in Dare County knew she was back.

* * * *

Jo grabbed her phone from her backpack, set it on the truck console and drove from Ocean Rescue. She needed to quit being a chicken shit and call Ray.

She couldn’t keep him out of her head and it pissed her off. He’d been her fantasy in high school. She loved his easygoing nature and they always had fun when hanging out. Even after being away for nearly five years, she still wanted him as much as the day she’d left.

The next stoplight along the beach road flashed red. She smacked her forehead against the steering wheel, steeled her resolve and grabbed her phone. After punching his speed dial, she waited. Several rings later, the call went to voicemail.

“Hey, sorry, it was late when I got your message.” She followed a small car through the intersection as the light turned green. “Hmmm, I’m off tomorrow, if you want to catch some waves and—”

A teen on a bicycle rolled right in front of the car ahead of her.

“Shit!” She slammed her brakes. Her phone flew into the dash.

A white T-shirt billowed around a boy careening over the hood of the blue Honda. His bike bounced on the road before her all-terrain Goodyears trampled it with grinding scrape.

Her legs liquefied to warm Jell-O as she fumbled for her phone. With numb fingers, she dialed nine-one-one. Hard rain drummed against the roof of the truck as a fire hydrant geysered an endless supply of water.

“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” a flat-toned dispatcher asked.

“Bicyclist and motor vehicle collision at…at…” She searched for a street sign. “Uh…Route 12. The beach road. North of the light that cuts through to the outlet mall.” Acrid smoke from the rubber she’d left on the asphalt gagged her.

“Anybody hurt?”

“The poor kid on the bike, probably. I’m walking there now.” She knelt next to the writhing boy. “Yeah, he’s semi-conscious and his leg looks broken.”

“Yes ma’am. Remain calm.”

“Listen, he’s moaning and going to drown if someone doesn’t shut the water off.” She dare not move him in case he had neck or back injuries.

“Water?”

“A car took out a fire hydrant.”

“You?”

The offending party sat in her car, shrieking like a banshee.

“No. He bounced off another vehicle’s windshield. My truck only ate the bicycle. We need an ambulance ASAP!”

“One’s been dispatched. Can you stay with him?”

“Of course.” With trembling fingers, she brushed hair off his forehead, pushing aside the memories of her father’s accident. “Help is on the way.”

“Do you think he has an ID or a cell phone?” A man approached with an umbrella. “He’s just in trunks―oh, wait!” He handed her the umbrella then returned with a sodden backpack. Grinning, he withdrew a sealed zippy bag.

“See if he has an ICE list,” Jo yelled over the wailing sirens.

Her umbrella friend found an emergency contact list and handed over the phone when the police arrived. An EMT jogged up and a firefighter relieved her from umbrella duty.

As she stepped from beneath the cascading waterfall, a pair of beefy hands dropped a firefighter’s turnout coat over her shoulders.

Strong and warm, the hands lingered. “So that was the,
Oh shit
,” Ray said huskily against her ear.

She nodded.

“You okay?”

“Think so.” She stood solid but wanted to yield to his strength. Her father had perished not too far from here in an auto accident. The memory chilled her to the bone. Luckily, the boy on the bicycle would recover. While Ray returned to his crew, his smoky bunker coat comforted her.

Utilities arrived to shut off the water then the wrecker hoisted the car onto its flatbed. Sweating in the steamy heat, firefighters cleared the road of scattered car parts. Their wisecracks reminded her of times when she’d gone on calls with her dad.

She ached to be a part of the family again.

Ray returned sweaty and grimy, but looking totally edible. His navy T-shirt bulged in all the right places. How could any man look so hot in bulky turnout pants?

Before returning home, she hadn’t thought of sex in months. Now every time he was near, her body tightened with desire.

“Come on. I’ll get your truck off the bike.” His hulky form slid behind the wheel.

The sound of the Broncosaurus mangling the rest of the bike beneath its rear wheels set Jo’s teeth on edge. Another firefighter tossed the twisted heap to the wrecker driver.

Ray hopped from her truck and held the driver’s door open. She shrugged off his coat and immediately missed his essence. How many women had been so lucky? A firefighter’s gear was sacred. “Thanks again.”

His gaze wandered to her chest. “Didn’t want everyone to see you could win a wet T-shirt contest, Dahlin’.”

Adrenaline and cold water had her nipples at attention beneath her clinging tank top. Heat scorched her cheeks. “Shit.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot today.” He smiled in his easy way. “Can you drive?”

“No problem.” She’d sounded stronger than she felt.

“You did a good job, Jo. Kept your head.” With a large, steady finger, he lifted her chin. His soft gaze held compassion.

It would’ve been so easy to melt against him. For shelter. For comfort. Hope for total fulfillment of all of her fantasies. He pressed a tender kiss to her cheek. The scratch of his stubble shot a jolt of sensual need low in her belly.

“Have a beer when you get home.”

She straightened, donned a tough expression and climbed into the seat. “Jack Daniels.”

“Good man.” He shut the door. “But he’ll kick your ass if you’re not careful.”

“Yeah, like a lot of men.” She winked and yanked her SUV into drive.

As soon as she walked into the house, Bobby handed her a whiskey on the rocks. The glass smoked with cold vapor.

“Ray?”

He nodded. “Rough day?”

Terror followed by ecstasy. “Practicing first responder skills.”

While she held the frosty drink to her forehead, her shorts beeped. She drew her phone from her pocket and read Ray’s text.

Cheers Dahlin’ H2CUS!
Text code for hope to see you soon. After a swig of her cocktail, she touched her cheek where his lips had been.

She could do with more of the ecstasy.

Ray waded through the crowded ground floor of The Casino and around the stage where a band was setting up. The popular ocean-side nightclub was named after a legendary fifties beach club and boasted wooden floors and multi-levels like the original structure. With the flocking summer tourists, the place had become his friend Tommy’s place to scout for strange since his divorce.

Ray would love to run into Jo, but for some reason he didn’t get the feeling she was into the social scene these days. Hell, she’d been putting off meeting him for a beer.

He climbed the stairs and found his tall, lanky ladder truck driver slouched at a table overlooking the stage. His blond hair always needed a cut. At least he’d ditched the flowery Hawaiian shirt tonight for a regular collared shirt. After being in the National Guard, Ray had a thing for tidiness and it continued into his current career. His only slip was skipping a shave when he wasn’t on duty at the fire station.

With a little over a year of firefighting under his belt, he’d acclimated to twenty-four shifts with rotating days off. Today started his first day off in four and he hoped to hear from Jo and ride some waves.

“Is Bobby coming?” Tommy asked, raising his brew.

He passed Tommy an
are you kidding
eye roll.

“Pussy tied by the new flavor of the month, Sarah?”

“Apparently. Found anything appetizing yet?” Ray scanned the crowd of bodies, some more dressed than others. From bikini tops to skintight dresses he couldn’t find Jo in the mix.

“Too early. The honeys need to soak up a few before they’re ready to party serious.” Tommy lifted his chin.

Ray preferred Papagayos, a small oceanfront bar catering to locals. But tonight he’d play wingman to his brother. Before he sat, a petite brunette bumped into his elbow.

She turned, and smiled.

Not his type.

None were these days. Only a certain sexy surfer held his attention, but California seemed to have made her wary. Surely, it hadn’t only been because she’d been kicked over the surfing circuit.

After giving him a once over, she said, “Oops, sorry. Didn’t spill your drink, did I?”

“I didn’t have one.” He smiled. “How about I get us one?” He gestured, offering a seat at the table where his friend sat. “What’ll you have?”

“Piña Colada.”

“I’ll be right back.” He lingered at the bar, while Tommy spun firefighter tales. Upon his return, he sat her glass on the table.

She barely acknowledged him.

“You guys look cozy, and I saw an old buddy. Be back in a few.” He wandered through the expansive nightclub until he found a table of firefighters from Kitty Hawk. He grabbed an empty chair. “Expecting company?”

“All swinging dicks welcome. It’s guys night out, but then that’s every night for you isn’t it, Ray?” Mark, a stocky engine operator grinned.

“The perks of being single.” He replied with a sarcastic half-smile. And it gets old.

“Heard you guys had a real burner the other day.” Bart, the skinny rookie asked wide-eyed.

A waitress bent close and he asked for another scotch.

Mark eyed her cleavage and shook his head after she left. “That was a sweet view. So how’s the hot little redhead I saw you with at the Black Raven last winter?”

Ray shrugged. “In Jersey, I suppose.” They would swallow their tongues if they knew he hadn’t been with a woman since the ER doctor left without a word. A couple of weeks later, Jo had lost her scholarship and place on the surfing team. He’d called and offered his help, but she’d seemed determined to fix things on her own. His hope of her return had finally been answered.

“Oh, God, you should’ve seen the blonde I hooked up with a couple of weeks back.” Bart wheezed. The young gun wiggled his brows. “Her legs were so long, I got lost working my way back after sucking her pink toenails.”

The table erupted in hoots of laughter.

Ray sipped his drink, feigning interest. He was more concerned about how long Jo planned to stay home. She’d been involved with some surfer named Vic. Had things had gone south and she’d come home for a break? He didn’t know how much time he had to convince her to forget the dick and stay, but he’d better get to work.

Eating dinner on the deck, Jo winked at Bobby and popped another shrimp. “Just doing the deed until something better comes along, then?”

“Cynical much?” He frowned leaning forward. He had their Dad’s scowl down pat and dark wavy hair with the matching Superman curl. His physique was built for speed whereas Ray could probably bench the fire engine.