How Do Firemen Make Love (Flame On)

by Drea Riley

  “Oh my God, someone stop Dréa, No, she did not just threaten that man. Out loud. In public. Lord, Shara, stop ogling the fire chief.”

  “CHALLENGE!!!!!” Shara’s voice rang out so loud that firemen and guests alike stumbled to an abrupt halt and turned toward their merry little band of rogues.

  “Oh Lord,” came from RaeLynn, who had thus far been quiet, but watchful. “No, Shara, we have to get this settled first, plus we have a lot of other challenges to do…just no.”

  RaeLynn ended her plea on a sigh, knowing this was about to get deeper. There was about as much chance of stopping Shara on a challenge as there was of the Posse keeping Dréa out of trouble.

  *****

  Dréa crossed her arms over her ample chest, seemingly oblivious to the fact that her investigator all but slobbered over her boobs, and decided to dismiss the aggravating man. Shara had just issued another challenge, which was far more interesting than trying to talk herself out of yet another mess. Plus, she had to keep her eye on Jeanie. Jayha didn’t care which one of them did it—if one was in trouble, the other automatically got put on lockdown. She backed into position against the wall she’d previously occupied and listened to the rest of the Posse discuss fantasies. She watched out of the corner of her eye as the investigator shuffled from foot to foot before deciding to give up. He had apparently realized that he had a) just been granted a pardon on a mauling and b) wasn’t about to get another explanation. He threw his hands up in despair and made his way toward the hotel, mumbling about crazy women and hormones and the Fire Marshal taking over. Dréa kind of felt bad for the man. It was obvious he was disgruntled with his job. But that, just like the fire, wasn’t her fault.

  Bringing her attention back to the rest of the crew, she heard Laura suggest that instead of writing a new story based on all the cute firemen, they could maybe take turns spinning a tale just to entertain each other. It was obvious they weren’t going to be allowed to roam too far from their new digs for little while, so they may as well entertain each other.

  “Fine,” Dréa said, shrugging her shoulders. “We’re in,” she volunteered herself and Laura. “As long as we get to eat; I am getting hangry.”

  “What the hell is hangry?” RaeLynn asked.

  The rest of the crew laughed. Though Dréa often spoke her own language and made up words to describe things, she’d opted to borrow one from her big sister Jeanie’s dictionary. Everyone knew that if Jeanie said she was hangry, things were about to go downhill quickly. Applying that word to Dréa could only be worse. The entire Posse agreed; for all intents and purposes, Dréa was definitely unstable, and it wouldn’t do to jostle her too often.

  While Reid explained to RaeLynn that hangry was a combination of being angry and hungry at the same time, Shara claimed dibs on the fire chief—and Dréa had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t just for the fantasy challenge either. Jeanie and Yazmin fell in to a conversation about the MGM Lions and gondolas, and Jayha took a moment to call the Posse lawyers.

  Dréa sighed and looked over at Laura. “Okay, freakazoid, what’s our fantasy, are we dominating or being dominated, and do you think we could fantasize in some food, ’cause really, I am freaking starving.”

  *****

  Laura was a little slow in answering Dréa because she was still trying to get a good look at that official-looking hottie who was walking around with a clipboard, making notes and looking around. He was a walking hunk of writing material. He looked like a hero she would conjure up in her mind and that readers would love. And since Shara had issued that challenge, well, her overactive imagination was already in overdrive.

  “Okay, short stuff, what are you thinking about?” Dréa asked, interrupting her daydream.

  “That man over there talking to that nasty investigator you almost killed, you see him? He’s the one with the clipboard,” she added. “I could so totally spin a fantasy about him for the challenge.”

  Dréa finally located the man in question and totally agreed with her.

  “Dayum, that man is lip-smacking good.”

  Laura couldn’t agree more.

  “I wonder who he is and what that nasty little bug is telling him. You know it can’t be good…OH SHIT, he is coming this way.” Laura fell silent and just stared as the beefy official guy made his way closer. Dréa wasn’t so quiet.

  “I’ll bet Mr. Lil’ Man’s Syndrome is over there fronting like he knows all the goods and has properly chastised me. I should go set his bug-eyed self on fire…bet they wouldn’t expect that. Could you see him trying to stop, drop and roll? Probably end up burning the whole Strip down. That’s what he gets for c’blocking. I see the way you’re eyeing Mr. Officially Fine over there. Boy, we might just win this challenge, and for my reward, I want our next vacation to not be hot as hell. This is freaking ridiculous, and again I ask you, when do we eat?”

  Laura idly listened to her friend’s rambling. Something was bothering her about the way the first investigator was wildly gesturing to her hunk. She was really on the verge of going over there when she noticed the short man move his hands together to make the international sign of motor mouth talking and then point in her and Dréa’s direction. It was at that point that she looked up and realized that Mr. Official Hottie was staring directly at her and Dréa—and he did NOT look happy.

  He dipped his head and ran his fingers though his thick locks before patting the shorter man on the shoulder and making his way towards them.

  “Shit, Dréa, whatever that little bug told him pissed him the hell off. We are so in for it now. Okay, let me do all the talking and you just nod, okay?”

  She didn’t hear what Dréa said because hot pissed-off man was already in front of them asking questions.

  “Ladies, my name is William Harveston. I am a Fire Marshal called in to investigate what happened. I have a couple of questions for you two, and then you all can be free to go and enjoy our city.”

  “OMGHISNAMEISFIREMARSHALBILL,” Dréa snickered. Laura elbowed Dréa as she started laughing hysterically and gave her a look that said ‘shut the hell up.’

  Luckily he must not have understood what Dréa had said, because he started with his questioning.

  “Why don’t you start by telling me your names and what happened from the beginning,” he asked.

  “My name is Laura Guevara, and that is Dréa Riley. We had all just got back from our shopping spree and were resting up in our suite, when all of a sudden there was a fire. I wasn’t really paying attention, because I was going through my bags looking for my outfit I was going to wear for tonight. I had found this perfect dress and wanted to have it dry-cleaned before I wore it when suddenly someone yelled. I looked up to see what was going on and saw that a fire had started on the floor.”

  Laura paused for a deep breath, her hand twirling a lock of her dark wavy hair, something she did when she was nervous.

  Dréa was still snickering beside her about Fire Marshal Bill, so she tried to ignore her or else she would be laughing her ass off. Mr. Fire Marshal had taken off his sunglasses, and she could see his deep green eyes watching her.

  She cocked her head to one side, “Dréa, doesn’t the new dress I bought match his green eyes?” Dréa stopped laughing long enough to agree with her.

  “Too bad it went up in flames,” she lamented.

  “The hell it did. I was not about to leave it behind—it’s over there.” She pointed to where the rest of the Posse was sitting. The garment bag was draped over one of the vacant chairs. “I paid a lot of money for that dress; no way was I leaving it behind.”

  “Did you manage to save the shoes, too?”

  “Ladies, can we please get on track” Mr. Fire Marshal interrupted, which set Dréa off again. He gave Dréa a quizzical look.

  “Sorry, but, well, your name just reminds her of Fire Marshal Bill—you know, that character Jim Carrey played. Do you know who we’re talking about?”

  “No, I don’t, but I would like to stay on task h
ere.”

  “OMG, you don’t know who Fire Marshal Bill is?” Dréa asked in shock, and then she was off trying to explain to him who he was.

  Laura elbowed her again to stop her because she could tell that Mr. Fire Marshal was not a patient man.

  “Dréa, shut up. Sorry, Mr. Fire Marshal, but we are all a little stunned and pissed off at what happened.”

  “Pissed off?” he asked.

  “Well, yeah. All of our stuff was up there and is now all gone. We just managed to get a couple of things out. So yeah, I am pissed off. The hotel needs to hire electricians or an electrical engineer to inspect the wiring because something is obviously wrong.”

  “So you think what happened was a wiring problem?”

  “Yes I do, which I am sure is what your investigation will find.”

  “Laura, hurry up or they’ll start the challenge without us,” Dréa whispered beside her, looking at the Posse gathered about ten feet from them.

  “Are we done, Mr. Fire Marshal?” Laura asked sweetly.

  “No, Ms. Guevara, we are not. I still need to hear what Ms. Riley has to say.”

  “Look, Fire Marshal Bill, Laura already told you what happened,” Dréa snapped. “We had just gotten back and then bam, there was a fire.” She of course didn’t mention that she’d had a lighter in her hand—she wasn’t stupid.

  Laura was turned around to look at the Posse and noticed there was an exact replica of Fire Marshal Bill standing near the Posse, wearing a firefighter’s uniform. Except he was a little dirty and sweaty—but she could have sworn they were the same person.

  “Do you have a twin brother,” she asked, swinging her gaze back up to the man standing in front of them, “or am I suffering from a smoke inhalation side effect or something?”

  “Huh, you feel sick, Laura? Why the hell didn’t you say something?”

  Before she called the Posse or a swarm of paramedics, Laura stopped her.

  “Over there by the Posse, you see that firefighter a couple of feet to the right? Doesn’t he look like Fire Marshal Bill?”

  Dréa drew the same conclusion.

  “Oh shit, he does.”

  Both of them turned questioning eyes towards Fire Marshal Bill and waited for him to respond.

  “Yes, that is my twin brother, Matthew. He’s a firefighter.”

  “Holy shit, Laura, we so have to start on our challenge. Twins—OMG, this is going to be great,” and off she went in the direction of the Posse and sexy twin firefighter.

  “You want to explain what she meant by ‘challenge’? Is this why the fire started?”

  “Of course,” she said in a huff, “we would never burn anything down that didn’t need burning. And even if we did, we would never get caught.” At his raised eyebrow she added, “We are writers, so the only fires we start are in the bedroom or wherever our characters have sex. And we are all very creative and talented, so that could damn well be anywhere.”

  She was really pissed off now. How dare he assume they would intentionally burn down the hotel? As if they didn’t have anything better to do. To think that she was imagining a sexy fantasy encounter with him…. Maybe she should talk to his brother; she did have a small fascination with firefighters.

  “You will stay away from my brother,” he growled.

  “Oh shit, I did not just say that out loud.” She was mortified.

  *****

  While Laura and the Fire Marshal where staring each other down, Dréa seized the opportunity to escape. She sidled up to the rest of the Posse long enough to hear Jayha declare that they had to split up until the investigation was finished. They could still hang out, they just weren’t allowed to stay in the same hotel.

  Dréa shrugged at hearing this. She wasn’t really fond of staying on the Strip when they were in Vegas anyway. Catching a glimpse of the man who looked just like fire Marshal Bill, but with shorter hair, an idea struck her.

  Making a beeline directly for the hunk, she pasted a big “aren’t I adorable” smile on her face and prepared to get herself and Laura a ride home. Taxi’s were hella expensive in Vegas, and since they’d been carpooling with the Posse, neither of them had a vehicle at their disposal.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Fireman, sir.” Dréa raised her voice to interrupt the small group of men who were making plans for the evening at their station.

  Four extremely muscular bodies turned to face her, all with arms crossed over their chests and eyebrows raised as if to question her presence.

  “Damn, okay, dudes; don’t get all hostile on me. I didn’t freaking burn the place down, at least not on purpose. I’m just wondering if one of you guys knows when we can talk to management. I need to see if anything is salvageable, and I need a phone so I can call a cab to get home.”

  “Wait a min, did you say ‘get home’?” the dark-chocolate hunk in the back asked in shock. “You know they probably aren’t going to let you leave Vegas until this is cleared up—you could still end up in jail.”

  “You could end up in jail,” Dréa muttered back in a falsetto voice. She hated to be crabby, but this was not going how she’d planned, and she was still hungry.

  Letting out the millionth soul sigh of the day, she dipped her head just a bit.

  “Look, fellas, I’d say I was sorry if it’d help, but I keep telling everyone, I don’t freaking know what happened—it just caught on fire. I’m glad no one was hurt, and I’m sure everything will be ok. This hotel hasn’t had this much action or publicity in ten years—they’re already having to turn people away from the casino and shops because Fire Marshal Bill over there is spouting off about legal capacity and blah blah blah.

  “Secondly, the only person going to jail in Vegas is….never mind, OJ or DMX jokes are so too easy right now.

  “And yes, I said ‘get home.’ I live here; well, Laura and I have a house here. I hate staying in hotels in Vegas.”

  Dark and sexy smirked at her and turned his back. Dréa knew these guys weren’t about to help her. So much for research for her fantasy. Hungry, angry and aggravated, she attempted to make her way around the group of hulks and toward the front of the hotel. The concrete was starting to really burn her feet, and she was just about to break into a dash when she was scooped up and tossed over a really broad shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

  Upside down and staring at a pair of big, nondescript fire-retardant pants, she had no idea who had captured her. Reaching into the oversized pants, she grabbed the waistband of what felt like basketball shorts and began to yank the material up.

  The hulking kidnapper stopped midstride and warned.

  “You give me a wedgie, I will dump your ass in the nearest fountain.”

  “You can try.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “What the shit is with you Nevadans…damn everyone is freaking deaf today. I said you can try. But, I promise you, you won’t dump me in any fountain. The moment you attempt to do me any harm, my sisters are going to tear the entire state of Nevada up, and then you will come up missing. And yes, I realize what I just said, and no, I am not concerned about the ramifications.”

  Dréa harrumphed as her nose bounced into the back of hunky.

  “Dude, I hate to tell you, but if you don’t let me up I am going to do worse than give you a wedgie, I am totally about to puke in your pants.”

  That got the hulking fireman’s attention. He came to an abrupt stop and flipped Dréa over his shoulder, though he didn’t set her free.

  After a moment her head stopped swimming, and she noticed they were standing near Laura and the Fire Marshal.

  “Dréa, are you okay? Are you sick?” Laura asked in a soft voice. She looked as if she were about to reach up and feel Dréa’s forehead; however, she would have needed a stepstool, as hunky still held her friend cradled in his arms.

  Dréa rested her head on the hunky twin’s shoulder and let out a little sigh.

  A small smile graced her cherubic face, and any onlooker would be hard pressed to b
elieve she was anything other than a complete angel.

  “Laura, if they let us go home soon, I know what my challenge fantasy is going to be.”

  Laura narrowed her eyes at her best friend and crossed her arms before turning back to the sulking Fire Marshal.

  “Listen, Mr. Harveston….”

  “So you did hear me when I said my name?” Official Hunk stated, interrupting Laura.

  “Actually, yes, I am sure Dréa and I have heard everything you’ve said, as you people have a real tendency to repeat yourselves and ask us to do so as well. Dréa is obviously tired—this has been a long day for us, as I’m sure you are well aware. Everyone else has left to go to their new hotel rooms, so if you have no more questions for Dréa or me, we’d like to be on our way home as well.”

  “Home? Miss Guevara, you told me that you two live in Texas—you must understand that I can’t allow you to travel home at this very moment.”

  “Listen, Bill, wasn’t it?” Dréa said, never lifting her head from his twin’s shoulder. “Like I was telling your womb-mate here, Laura and I have a house here in Vegas. I am sure you and the rest of your suits will have a million more questions, and you can ask me anything you want tomorrow. If you’d kindly just shut up today and let me go home so I can eat and take a freaking bath, I’ll be glad to tell you again that I didn’t do anything to start the fire.”

  Finally lifting her head and maneuvering herself to the ground to stand on her own two feet, Dréa squared her shoulders and looked up into two sets of emerald green eyes.

  “Unless I am under arrest, which I know I am not, we are going home.”

  She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a card with her name and address clearly embossed in purple ink.

  “We have a house on the end of that cul de sac—you can’t miss it”

  The hunky fireman glanced at the card.

  “Hey, you guys live in that big house with the Texas flag painted on the back?” he questioned, a glint of excitement lighting up his eyes.