The Hot Line
Page 1
Praise for the “Sexy and Sassy”*
Novels of Cathryn Fox
Pleasure Prolonged
“Hot sex in creative places, passion on every page, and erotic writing throughout. Realistic and arousing imagery.”
—Romantic Times
“Humor, sex, science, relationships, and sex…a pleasing prolonged pleasure read.”
—Midwest Book Review
Pleasure Control
“Sizzling, irresistible, wonderful.”
—New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster
“Witty, clever, and wickedly titillating; Cathryn Fox is the next Queen of Steamy Romance.”
—USA Today bestselling author Julianne MacLean
“Fun, sexy, and sassy—a Cathryn Fox book is a must-read great escape!”
—*Sylvia Day, author of Bad Boys Ahoy!
“Fox’s book is perfect!”
—Romantic Times
“A wonderful blend of passionate sex and witty intelligence.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Hot, enthralling, and simply delicious. Run, don’t walk to the nearest bookstore and purchase this book today. It’s a must read!”
—Romance Reviews Today
“Delightful…hooks the audience from the start.”
—Midwest Book Review
THE HOT LINE
CATHRYN FOX
HEAT
Heat
Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi-110 017, India Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
First published by Heat, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Copyright © Cathryn Fox, 2008
All rights reserved
HEAT is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:
Fox, Cathryn.
The hot line/Cathryn Fox.
p. cm.
ISBN: 1-4295-9619-8
I. Title.
PR9199.4.F69H67 2008
813'.6—dc22 2007032553
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is dedicated to all the heroic firefighters
who bravely serve and protect.
And to my husband,
who continues to light my fire.
CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
FEVER
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
SIREN
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
FLASH FIRE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to my wonderful editor, Kerry Donovan, for her fabulous editorial and for making writing these stories so much fun.
Thank you to Paula, for her continued support; to Shelly, for the brotherhood; to Mary Lou, for her honesty and friendship; and to Heather (her husband is a volunteer firefighter), who answered all my endless questions, but still refuses to tell me how she knows some fire trucks are flat on top!
Thank you to the Allure Authors for your friendship and support. This journey wouldn’t be half as fun without all of you.
And, as always, to my agent, Bob Diforio, who is always in my corner.
THE HOT LINE
FEVER
ONE
Strawberry daiquiri in hand, Sara Jack blew a wispy auburn curl off her forehead and glanced around the Hose, her reporter’s eye stopping to examine the men crowded around the pool table. She studied them for a long moment, as though the sight of their scrumptious backsides was actually newsworthy. Of course, back in Trenton, Iowa, aka, Butthole Nowhere, such a sight really was newsworthy. But here in Chicago, tight firefighter buns were a dime a dozen, she supposed. And damned if she didn’t want to grab herself the baker’s special, to go. Thirteen fresh, warm honey buns.
Mmmmm…yummy.
She sipped her fruity drink and considered the name of the establishment again. The Hose, she mused. What a perfectly delicious name to describe the local watering hole where the firefighters from Station 419 gathered nightly for a game of eight ball.
As Sara blocked out the din of the crowd, and completely ignored the bridal party members lounging around the table beside her, her lascivious gaze panned the hotties in the room a second time. Her investigative eyes zeroed in on one very sexy, very “well-equipped” Mitch Adams as he turned in her direction. The man had been warming her blood and getting under her skin during their rehearsals without even trying.
As she devoured his broad shoulders, his firm stomach, and his even firmer thighs, a slow heat gravitated south and burned her body from the inside out. She licked her suddenly parched lips, her mind wandering, conjuring up all the wicked ways Mitch, with his lethally honed physique and panty-soaking smile, could help extinguish those slow-burning embers.
The Hose, she mused again, her glance settling a few inches below Mitch’s leather belt. What a great name for the firefighters’ bar—a name, she suspected, or at least hoped, had nothing to do with their profession.
Beer in one hand, pool cue in the other, Mitch lazily crossed his legs at the ankles and leaned against the pool table. Dark hair cut short gave him a charming boy-next-door look, but Sara suspected he was anything but.
Unlike the “nice boys” she’d dated back home, pleasant, spineless boys who bored her to death—inside the bedroom and out—Mitch had a raw sexuality about him that screamed of sex, sin and…danger. Sara shivered. Almost violently. Surprised at just how much his carnal edginess aroused her.
Her gaze brushed over him again, taking pleasure in his square jaw, perfect white teeth, long athletic body, and bad-boy attitude. Sexual awareness prowled through her, warming her blood. Her glance traveled onward and upward until she met with a set of bedroom blues that shimmered with dark desire when they locked on hers. Mitch shot her a look that held all kinds of suggestions, all kinds of wicked possibilities.
Sara drew a sharp breath, her pulse pounding in her throat. She wiped her hands on her snug jeans, letting the denim drink in her moisture.
As he watched her watching him, his nostrils flared and his body tensed, tension lines bracketing his sensuous mouth. In that brief moment when their gazes collided, they shared a heated exchange, one that could undoubtedly set the crowded establishment ablaze.
It occurred to Sara that she wasn’t the only woman in the bar taken by his edgy sexuality. She twisted sideways, noting the way the other women in the room watched him, their body language indicating they’d like a tour of his station, with up close and personal instructions on how he handled his hose.
Just then, Cassie Williams, the beautiful bride-to-be, the same woman who was responsible for Sara’s unexpected trip to Chicago, stepped up to the table. Sara welcomed the distraction and shifted in the chair to face her.
Sara had been best friends with Cassie since kindergarten, which was why she, along with her other best friends, Jenna Powers and Megan Wagner, had dropped everything and hopped on the first plane to Chicago. Nothing short of a category-five catastrophe would keep them all from attending Cassie’s nuptial exchange with sexy firefighter Nick Cameron.
With Sara’s body still feeling the effects of Mitch’s lusty gaze, she focused fully on Cassie.
“Pretty cute, isn’t he?” Cassie asked with a knowing look on her face as she gestured toward Mitch with a nod.
“What? Who?” Sara asked, feigning innocence.
Ignoring her question, Cassie sat down and shimmied closer. She tapped Sara’s nose. “Watch out for him, Sara. He’s not like the nice boys you know from back home.” Cassie remained quiet for a moment, while Sara mulled over that warning. A moment later, Cassie pitched her voice lower and added, “Mitch Adams is…dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Sara asked, her pulse racing a little faster, her internal temperature rising a little higher.
“Yeah, dangerous. A guy like that can capture your heart without even trying. And since I know you’re a girl who wants commitment and doesn’t want her heart broken, I suggest if you start anything with him, you go into it with your eyes wide-open.”
Eyes wide-open…legs wide-open. Oh, the possibilities.
“I’ve known Mitch long enough to know he’s a no-strings playboy, a woman’s fantasy. It’s the way he likes it.”
Playboy. Fantasy. No strings. Sara wasn’t seeing a downside here.
Cassie angled her head. “When you meet the right guy, you’ll know it.”
Sara shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe I’m not looking for the right guy.” Honestly, she’d love to find Mr. Right and settle down. Not that she expected to find her “knight in shining armor” in a bad ass like Mitch. What she expected to find with him was a bad boy who was also so very, very good.
“He’s a great guy to have fun with, but don’t expect more,” Cassie said. “I just don’t want to see you hurt.”
Sara worked to tamp down her desire and keep her voice even. Trying for casual she toyed with her straw and said, “How could he possibly hurt me? I’m here on a two-week vacation.” She dragged her finger around the perimeter of her glass and continued. “From work and from reality.” It suddenly occurred to her that a break from reality, along with a red-hot fling with a “dangerous,” drop-dead-gorgeous firefighter, was just the thing she needed. What was that old vacation motto? What happened in Vegas stayed in Vegas. Surely that could apply to Chicago, too. Why couldn’t she have a wild, no-strings-attached affair and live out a few firefighter fantasies of her own? At least then she’d have something to warm her thoughts when she returned home to Iowa, to her mundane fluff job as reporter for Trenton’s small-time gazette.
The thoughts of going back to that office only to write another cow-tipping story made her shiver. Her dream job was to write sexy features for Entice, a young, hip, Chicago-based magazine for today’s strong, sexually empowered women. The trick was to come up with a great, hot-topic story, one that would impress the Entice editors. Unfortunately, hot-topic stories were few and far between in her small town.
Cassie’s voice brought Sara’s attention back around. “To him, women are just sperm banks.”
Sara twisted her lips. “Sperm bank, huh?” It really had been far too long since she’d taken a deposit.
Sara looked over Cassie’s shoulder and spotted Mitch watching their exchange with interest, giving her the impression he knew exactly what they were talking about. He scraped his hands over his chin, dragging her gaze to his fingertips.
Her heart beat in a mad rush as she thought about how those fingers would feel tracing the pattern of her body, and touching her most private areas. She pictured his mouth ravishing hers, his hands on her breasts, his thick cock ramming her pussy, fucking her like she’d never been fucked before.
Just then their eyes connected, and in that instant, Sara knew she’d like nothing better than to take a few deposits from the bad-ass firefighter.
Someone from across the room called out to Mitch. He twisted sideways and followed the sound, vanishing from her line of sight.
Sara pulled in a fortifying breath and focused all her attention back on the girls, playing catch-up on their conversation, which, from the sounds of things, was just beginning to heat up.
Never one to be subtle, Megan got right to the point. “So tell me, Cassie. Is Nick any good in bed?”
Cassie kept a telltale grin from her face, but the fire in her eyes spoke volumes. “You know I don’t kiss and tell.”
“I’m not asking about his kissing abilities. I’m asking about his fu—”
“Jesus, Megan,” Jenna piped in, “what kind of question is that?”
Megan shrugged. “I’m just asking, is all.”
“What you really should be asking is, does he know his way around a vagina? Because the last guy I dated couldn’t find my G-spot without a compass and detailed directions from MapQuest.”
A round of laughter erupted from the table and gained the attention of those around the four friends.
Still chuckling, Sara planted her elbow on the table and dropped her voice. “You think you’ve had it bad,” she whispered, resting her chin on her palms. “My last date thought a G-spot was the crisp five-dollar bill he handed the waitress every morning in exchange for his coffee and paper.”
“Okay, since we’re having a whose-boyfriend-thinks-a-vulva-is-something-they-drive-to-work-every-morning contest, I want in,” Megan added, laying her palms flat on the table, a wry grin curling her lips. “My ex-husband thought fellatio was something you ordered off the dessert menu at Applebee’s.” She smacked one hand to her forehead. “And to think I married him! What the fuck was I thinking?” A round of groans followed Megan’s confession.
“Okay, you win,” Sara piped in, going back to her drink. Maybe alcohol would lessen the painful truth that all the men back home were as boring in the bedroom as they were out of it.
Cassie leaned forward. She slipped something under her hand and slid it to the middle of the table. “Actually, there is a way you can all win. Except this time winning means no MapQuest, no detailed directions, and no Applebee’s.”
Before Cassie continued, her gaze darted around the room. Her voice dropped an octave as though all four women gathered around the table were masterminding some secret plan to take over the world. “This is just good, old-fashioned fun where those involved know what a G-spot is and how to work it.”
The other women all huddled forward, mimicking Cassie’s actions.
Megan lowered her voice to match Cassie’s
. “What are you talking about?”
Cassie lifted her hand from the table to reveal a small white business card. A hush fell over the group as all sets of eyes focused on the rectangular piece of cardboard.
After a long moment, Jenna broke the silence. “The Hot Line?” She crinkled her nose, her glance going from the card to Cassie, then back to the card again. “What the hell is the Hot Line?”
With a fairly good idea of what Cassie was suggesting, Sara scooped the card up for a better look. It simply read, The Hot Line, with a phone number, 555-HEAT.
Sara shot Cassie a look, her mind racing with indecent ideas. She furrowed her brow, the reporter in her needing clarification, the woman in her blazing to life. “Yeah, what the hell is the Hot Line, Cassie?” she asked, examining the card.
“It’s a way for you all to have a little fun, with men who know their way around a woman’s body.”
“Oh yeah?” Megan rushed out, eyes bright with excitement. “Enlighten me, chicky.”
Cassie tapped the card, which Sara continued to clutch like her life depended on it. Okay, so maybe her life didn’t depend on it, but her libido sure as hell did.
Cassie got right to the point. “If you call the Hot Line and mention that you need assistance, it will bring a sexy firefighter—a sexy, ‘fully equipped’ firefighter, that is—to your door, ready and willing to tamp down your fires.”
“Damn girl, give me that card!” Megan flashed a wide smile. Mischief danced in her eyes as she whipped the card out of Sara’s hands.
Pussy clenching in anticipation, Sara snatched the card back, the investigative side of her demanding proof. “Is this for real?”