Up In Flames (13 page)

"Yup.” She turned to the catwalk as the lights went down and the MC appeared. “Hush. They're starting."

"I think I'm going to be sick. I don't want Shane to see me here."

"Oh, Jules. You're just supporting your community. Try to have some fun.” She waved her hands in the air. “Woo hoo! Let's see some skin!"

"Ohmigod,” Jules murmured, and furiously sucked back her martini.

When the lights went down, the music went up to a near-deafening degree. The DJ pounded out cheesy dance music from the 80s as strobe lights danced along the catwalk. The women were already wild, primped to the extremes, and eager for a glimpse of the firefighters of Riverbend. The MC, a local bar manager with a flair for the dramatic, teased and baited them with talk of the tempting men on offer.

"This is awful,” Jules said, leaning into Claire so she could be heard. “If it were women on auction, it would be sleazy. Why is this okay?"

"I don't know. Anyway, those big guys on stage eat this up.” Claire was wiggling in her seat to the music, not ashamed to be there in the least. “Loosen up, kiddo. That's an order."

The MC introduced the first firefighter on auction, whipping the women into a frenzy. “And now, ladies. Our first gentleman is a real crowd pleaser. He's done this once or twice and knows how to shake his money maker. I'm going to need some high bids on this fine prize. All I ask is we keep it friendly, with no catfights.” He gave the crowd a conspiratorial wink. “This gentleman enjoys dinners out with a lovely lady, long walks, and long soaks in the hot tub. You all know him. Show your appreciation for Tom Blanchard!"

Jules couldn't help smiling. Tom Blanchard was the oldest man at the firehouse, several years away from retirement. Everyone knew Tom and everyone loved Tom. He was gregarious and began every bachelor auction. The silver-haired slickster bounded on stage, bare chest glistening in oil, smiling like a Cheshire cat. Even though he was the most mature man on offer, the ladies loved him. He soaked up all the catcalls, putting a hand to his ear, and flirting outrageously with the women in the front.

Despite her misgivings, Juliet couldn't help but laugh. Old Tom knew how to work a crowd. “Look at him."

Claire's eyes widened. “He's still pretty buff. I have half a mind to make a bid myself."

The next man in line was a rookie who looked barely out of his teens, but one glimpse of his rock-hard body proved he was all man. He sauntered out onto the catwalk and the women went wild. Jules caught her sister almost drooling at the sight of such virility, and made a show of rummaging through her own handbag. “I don't think I have enough money for him."

Claire collapsed into a fit of giggles. “See? I told you this would be fun! Let's see who's next."

The MC took the mike. “Ladies, do you like them tall, dark and handsome?"

The women screamed.

"Do you like to gaze into deep, blue eyes?"

"Yes,” they cried in unison.

"Then feast your eyes on Kevin McGuinness!"

Kevin ran onto the stage and did an impressive back flip. He tore around the catwalk, pointing into the crowd and singling out some women. He stopped in front of Jules and blew her a kiss in front of everyone. For a moment, Jules felt as if every eye was on her. Many heads turned. Feeling smoke come out of her ears, she shrank into her seat. Thankfully, Kevin was a good showman and continued to preen for the crowd elsewhere.

Claire put a hand on her arm. She gave her sister a small peck on the cheek. “Breathe, Juliet, breathe."

"I'm fine, but I don't really care to watch Kevin either. I'm going for a walk. I'll be back."

"Where?"

"Nowhere in particular.” Jules wandered past some of the booths, looking at their wares, but wasn't really interested. From a distance, she could see the rest of the firefighters doing their thing, but that didn't hold her interest either. She was restless, and realized fairly quickly it had nothing to do with Kevin's antics. Strangely enough, he hadn't bothered her much. Shane must have been right when he'd said she'd feel better getting her feelings out in the open.

Shane. Suddenly, she really wanted to talk to Shane.

Without even realizing it, she headed towards the backstage area. Her mind kept wandering, dwelling on the moment they'd shared on her couch. How perfect it had all felt until she'd lost it.

His tongue had been so soft and hot on her breast. Torture and delight at the same time. Agony and ecstasy. His hands had teased her, dancing over her blazing skin with gentleness and sweet persuasion. It had been just a moment, but a moment of unparalleled pleasure. She'd never felt like that, not with Kevin, not with anyone else.

And now she was waiting for him to strut his stuff in front of hundreds of drunken women, so one of them could buy him and take him home and invite him to put his tongue and hands all over her.

She needed to talk to him. Needed to apologize for being an idiot. Again. Maybe they could have something together. Maybe it would only be sex, maybe that's all it could be for either of them. And maybe it was just what the doctor ordered. A romp, nothing more, nothing less. Something fun and flirty to fix her and help her move on.

And if she moved on with Shane, swell. If she moved on with someone else, just as swell.

She turned a corner then and saw him. And felt her breath quickly fizzle out of her body.

Like the other men, he was shirtless, clad only in turnout pants, boots and suspenders. His face was turned away, but his body was angled towards her. She gulped as she stared at his perfect chest, a chest sculpted by years of hard work rather than hours at the gym. He was tanned, his skin a light bronze, even under the harsh disco lights. She could see his sandy chest hairs glistening under those lights, turning darker as they headed towards the edge of the pants. His nipples were puckered, and she had a sudden image of her taunting him the way he'd taunted her. Letting her tongue roll over those nipples, then lower and lower.

He was such a beautiful, manly man.

Yes, she would offer herself up for sex. Scratch her itch and hopefully get him out of her system.

She forced herself to look at his face, and realized something was wrong. He put a hand to his forehead and she realized his skin wasn't oiled, it was clammy. In a direct contrast to his chest, his face was white. And he bore the frustrated frown of someone trying to snap himself out of it.

She approached slowly. “Shane? Are you all right?"

His head snapped up. “Jules.” He blinked a few times, and his eyes dipped down to take in her appearance. He smiled as he looked at her. “You look really nice."

She had dressed up that evening, in heels and a form-fitting black dress with an emerald leaf pattern which highlighted her eyes. She grew warmer, watching as his eyes followed the leaf pattern over her breasts and down to her hips. She made a mental note to wear the dress again, like, maybe tomorrow and the rest of the week. “Thanks. But you're not looking so hot yourself. I mean, you look good. You suit the uniform, of course. Not that you're wearing much of it right now, but you, um, fill it out nicely.” She cursed in her head. “What I mean is ... you look sick."

He grinned at her vocal diarrhea. “I go on in a few minutes. I was getting ready when I just felt a little faint."

"I can't imagine it's easy to go on in front of a horde of screaming, horny women."

"I was only thinking of one woman."

"Oh,” she whispered. This is it. Here goes. This is where I tell him I want him to take me home and make love to me all night long. She opened her mouth.

"I can't stop thinking of Alana,” he said, his eyes sad and angry at the same time.

Jules felt as if someone had ripped her still-pumping heart out of her chest, squished it into smithereens, and shoved the bloody pieces back down her throat. She wanted to gag. But seeing how broken Shane looked, she swallowed her feelings and laid a hand on his arm. “I'm sorry, Shane. It must be so hard some days. You must have loved her very much. But you know, a wise person named Claire once told me it's okay to have a bit of fun. I'm still trying to wrap my own head around that, but I'm sure it's true. Alana loved you. I'm sure she would want you to have some fun, too. That's all this night is about. Just a chance to let your hair down. It might be just what you need."

After her little speech, she felt deflated. Completely and utterly deflated. She turned and took a step, wanting to leave Shane behind. Wanting to run and leave Riverbend behind, too.

But before she could escape, she felt a gentle tug on her arm.

"Jules,” he said. “Wait."

He continued to stare at her, amazed and horrified at her words. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something else, but not knowing what to say. He cleared his throat. This was not a conversation he wanted to have with her. He found her so intriguing, so stimulating. The last thing he wanted to do was discuss the guilt he felt over his dead wife. “Jules, I..."

She pulled her arm away and he frowned, wanting very much to drag it back. Her soft fingers felt so nice and cool on his hot skin. And in that little dress, she looked absolutely sinful. It hugged her body, every last, delectable part of it, and he wanted to trace the pretty leaf pattern with his hands.

It wasn't helping she was being so damn nice to him. So freaking supportive. But it didn't make him desire her less, only more.

"I'm sure you were a very good husband to Alana,” she said, smiling. “You shouldn't beat yourself up over your grief."

How could he explain it was guilt, and not grief, which made him this way? Yes, he'd loved Alana for a long time, but towards the end things had changed. The marriage had been over before it was over. How did he explain to Jules he wasn't the good husband he appeared to be? That he'd wanted a way out? When Alana's death gave him that way out, the guilt had been crippling. It had made him afraid to love again.

How did he explain he wasn't afraid to get up in front of the hall of horny women? He was afraid of showing himself to Jules. Of giving himself to Jules, even though his body was screaming for it.

And how did he tell her she brought out every last, protective instinct in him with a force that scared him? That receiving those notes made him want to carry her away to a private island? Somewhere where they could be alone and where she could be safe. Where they could make love for weeks on end.

He dared to reach for her hand, and held it in his own for a moment. “I'm not explaining myself very well. When I said I was thinking about Alana ... what I really meant..."

The MC chose that moment to begin Shane's introduction. They both looked at each other as the MC got the women chanting “captain, captain.” A stage manager ran over and pulled him towards the catwalk, pulled him away from Jules.

And it actually hurt physically to be separated from her. There was a constriction in his chest he just couldn't attribute to performance jitters.

But it couldn't be helped. She was already diving back into the crowd, and he was being pushed up the stage steps. And before he knew it, the blinding lights were in his eyes, and he was walking towards the catwalk.

Jules hurried back to her seat, joining a bemused Claire.

"Where've you been?"

"Just giving Shane a pep talk,” she answered quietly.

"Really.” Claire assessed her sister's pale face. “That must have been quite the pep talk. You look pepped out."

The MC continued, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Ladies, check out our new fire captain's resume. Thirty-five, six-foot-three, blond hair and brown eyes which will make your heart melt. He is the
piece de resistance
tonight! Put your hands together for Shane Gaskill!"

Jules felt her stomach lurch. She grabbed Claire's hand. “I can't look. I shouldn't have come.” She stood.

"Too late, now.” She hauled her back down into her seat.

Shane walked onstage, just walked. No back flips, no gimmicks. Just Shane. He was smiling, and had his color back. And the women were eating him up. Some actually lunged at the stage. One lady, dressed in a sexy Western theme, tossed her cowboy hat at him. He caught it easily, put it on his head, and bowed. The audience went wild.

Feeling several inches small, Jules just stared at him.

He squinted into the lights, and glanced around the room. Within moments, his eyes met with hers. His stage smile disappeared as he stared back at Jules, only to be replaced by an expression which was infinitely more intimate, more personal. And then he smiled at her, for her.

The MC shouted, “Let's start the bidding!” He tweaked one of Shane's biceps. “Not an ounce of fat here, ladies. I expect some high bids for the burn unit!"

Next to Jules, a gorgeous woman tittered to her friend. “Mary, hold my check book still. I need to add some zeroes to this number. I am bringing that fine man home tonight."

Jules’ heart fell as she heard other similar exclamations in her seating area. They all wanted him. Just like they'd all wanted Kevin. And she'd pretty much told Shane he should feel free to take his fun where he could.

Fighting back tears, she stood. “Claire, I'm going home. I'll grab a taxi."

"Oh, honey, don't..."

"Good-night, Claire.” Jules darted one, last look at Shane. He was no longer smiling. His brows were knit with concern. She didn't care. She didn't want his concern. She wanted something else. Something so deep and mysterious she didn't even know what to call it.

And it hurt.

Turning from him, and ignoring her sister's pleas, she exited as quickly as possible without running, and dove into a waiting cab.

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Under the porch light, Jules fished for her key to the house. As she reached into the bottom of her bag, she looked up and noticed a corner piece of paper sticking out of her letter box.

She froze.

It couldn't be. Could it? Maybe it was just an advertisement, a harmless flyer letting her know chicken breasts were on sale at the grocery store. She'd look so stupid if she ended up calling the police about a discount on poultry.