She started down the path to where her car was parked on the street. “I should probably get going though.” She handed him the six-pack. “Keep these at room temperature. You can taste the flavors better that way.”
He took the beers with one hand, but grabbed her arm with the other. “Victoria, wait.” He tugged gently, and she turned back toward him. “I’m sorry.” He released her arm. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at this whole situation. You wouldn’t believe what McCann said about all this.”
“What did he say?”
He raised the six-pack. “Come inside, have a beer, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Evidently confident she would follow, he turned and jogged up the steps to his front door.
He held the door open for her and she followed him inside, more than a little curious about what she’d find. Would it be a sloppy bachelor pad? Or a cozy townhome for two?
What greeted her did little to answer the question of his relationship status. It wasn’t a pigsty like her older brothers’ apartments were before they’d married, but it also wasn’t full of warm, feminine touches. The walls were free of pictures and painted a new-build beige. A modern brown leather sofa faced a respectably large flat screen TV, and the living room opened to a kitchen that was perfectly free of dirty dishes or any other kind of clutter.
“Nice place,” she said, running a hand over the granite countertops and taking a seat on a stool at the breakfast bar.
“Thanks.” Jason rummaged through a few kitchen drawers until he found a bottle opener. “I knew I had one of these thingies somewhere.” He opened a bottle and handed it to Victoria but didn’t open one for himself. Instead, he pulled a bottle of water from the fridge.
“It’s after noon, you know. A perfectly respectable hour to drink.”
He smiled and leaned over his elbows on the breakfast bar across from her. “I know, but I don’t drink.”
“You don’t?” And why was that? Was he a recovering alcoholic? Religiously opposed? Neither of those seemed like appropriate questions, so instead, she asked, “Is it because of the home-brew labels? You don’t trust that I make a drinkable beer?”
“No, it’s not that.” Evidently reading the questions on her face, he added, “Just never been interested in it. It’s not any kind of moral opposition or anything like that. I just don’t care for it.”
Well, fat lot of good the beers would’ve been as a bribe. Good thing she’d decided against asking him to go to the wedding with her.
“Not to be a drink pusher, but maybe you should just try a sip and see if you like it.”
He shrugged, but didn’t decline, so she grabbed the bottle opener and cracked one open for him. She slid it across the counter and waited for him to take a sip.
He tipped the bottle back, taking a decent swig, but then seemed to have a hard time swallowing. She smiled, knowing he didn’t like it but finding his reaction amusing nonetheless.
Trying to cover a cough, he grunted. “It’s good.”
She laughed. “Oh, whatever. You hated that.”
“I didn’t hate it.” He seemed to be trying to wipe the taste off his tongue by moving it over the roof of his mouth, and Victoria laughed harder.
“Beer—it’s an acquired taste,” he said. “I’m sure the people who’ve acquired it would love this.”
“You are the worst liar,” she said, still laughing. “But I appreciate the effort.”
She took a swig, letting the flavors sit on her tongue for a moment before tossing it back. This brew was a little heavier on hops than her others and probably wasn’t a good choice for a virgin palate. Taking no offense to his reaction, she steered them back to the topic at hand. “So, you were going to tell me what McCann said about the pictures.”
“Ah, yes.” He took a sip of water first. “McCann sees this whole thing as opportunity to cultivate some positive PR for the department.”
“Really? How so?”
“He wants me to agree to do a personal interview with a reporter from channel five.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, and he wants me to be sure to mention the volunteer work I do with teens at the juvenile correction center.”
The touch of disgust in his voice puzzled Victoria. “But you don’t want to talk about that?”
“I don’t do it for a pat on the back.”
“Why do you do it?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. The department encourages community service. And a scholarship allowed me to go to school, so I figure school could be a way out for some of those kids too. I don’t do anything special. Nothing warm and fuzzy. I just tutor math and science every once in a while. When they’re so inclined to give a crap. I’m not changing any lives.”
“But you might.”
“Hasn’t happened yet.”
“So, you’re not going to do the interview?”
“Hell no.”
“And what does McCann have to say about that?”
“Don’t know. Didn’t stay on the line long enough to find out.” He threw a self-deprecating smile her way. “That’s not going to win me any points with the guy, but it was sure worth it to hang up on his pompous ass.”
She smiled, his humor contagious. Her cheeks felt a little warm, but whether it was from drinking her beer too fast or a reaction to seeing those lake-meets-sky eyes lit with humor—it was impossible to say. “So, you’re one of those then?”
“One of those what?”
“Rebels.”
“Eh.” He shrugged. “Between you and me, I’m probably the only officer who could ever get away with hanging up on McCann. He has a soft spot for me because he knew me when I was a kid. I try never to take advantage of that, but today I made an exception.”
“Well, I’m sorry for putting you in this position in the first place.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You didn’t put me in this situation. A nosy photographer did.”
“I know, but I still feel bad. If your life is anything like mine at the moment, that picture has caused quite the uproar.”
“Yeah? What’s going on with you?”
“You remember Graham? You met him the night of the warehouse fire…”
Jason nodded.
“Well, he and my mother think you and I are—”
“Shit, I didn’t even think about what your boyfriend would think. You need me to tell him that it was all innocent or something?”
“No.” She laughed nervously. “Graham’s not my boyfriend. I don’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend as I recently had to clarify to my mother.”
Grinning, Jason quirked an eyebrow, looking amused but puzzled.
She sighed. What the hell? She’d told him this much, might as well let it all hang out. She needed some liquid courage though, so she took a giant swig of beer first. “My mother thought I was gay until she saw that picture.”
Jason choked on his water, and she gave him a second to pound on his chest and cough it out.
She raised her beer in a mock toast. “But now she’s quite thrilled to think that you and I are together.”
“And Graham?”
“Graham is also quite thrilled. Takes the pressure off him I suppose, since I’m sure he knows I’ve been in love with him since forever.”
“But he’s…”
“Not interested in me. Not at all.”
“His loss, right?”
Jason was just being nice, saying what people were supposed to say, but she felt the smile tug at her lips anyway. “I like to think so.”
“So, what did Graham and your mother say when you told them the truth? That it was just a moment taken out of context?”
It was now or never. Either explain the embarrassing situation and hope he took pity on her enough to help, or let go of the idea of taking someone to Tony and Camille’s wedding. Show up alone and watch Graham flirt with anything in a dress, and hope her confused mother didn’t try to set her up with a drag queen. “
Yeah, about that…”
*
“You didn’t tell them?” Jason thoroughly enjoyed watching the color bloom on Victoria’s cheeks as she picked at the homemade label on her beer. He followed the progression of that pink flush all the way down her neck and then to the hint of a valley between her breasts, where a butterfly tattoo peeked out from the neckline of her tank top.
“Believe me, I tried.” She looked up from her label picking, her brown eyes wincing apologetically.
He was probably an ass for finding this whole situation so funny, but seeing her fidget uncomfortably over this ridiculous misunderstanding was highly entertaining. He worked at keeping his facial expression as serious as hers, not wanting to insult her with his amusement.
“All right, look. It’s like this. My mother was so desperate to see me settled with someone that she tried to fix me up with another woman. A woman.” She leaned further over the counter and raised a hand, palm facing out. “Swear to God. That’s the conversation I’m having with my mother when Graham shows up with his copy of the Tribune.” She smacked the countertop with her swearing hand. “So yeah, I didn’t work very hard to correct her. Can you blame me?”
“I suppose not.” The smile pulled harder at his lips, becoming more difficult to hold back the more exasperated she became. “And you didn’t correct Graham because…”
She huffed loudly. “Because he’s frickin’ irritating.”
“He’s irritating?”
“Yes. He’s always assuming that I’ll be around—a loyal lap dog, just waiting for him to throw some attention my way. And I find that irritating. So, a few weeks ago when he assumed I didn’t have a date to my brother’s wedding and that I’d be free to hang out with him for the evening, I told him I already had a date.”
“And let me guess. You don’t have a date.”
“Not yet. There’s still time.” She paused, one eyebrow raised at him. He knew where this was going, but he wasn’t going to make it any easier for her. It was too much fun watching her squirm.
“So, anyway,” she said on a sigh when Jason didn’t jump to volunteer. “Graham drew his own conclusions when he saw the picture.”
“Meaning…he thinks I’m your date to your brother’s wedding.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t set him straight?”
“No.”
“And what’s your plan for the wedding?”
“Well…” She glanced at the drink in her hand. “My plan was to bribe you with a six pack of lovingly made India Pale Ale, but you don’t drink.”
“That’s true, I don’t.”
Smiling, she raised her mischief-filled brown-eyed gaze to his. “So, what’s your stance on brownies?”
“I’m not big on chocolate.”
“How about cheesecake? I make a mean cherry cheesecake.”
“I don’t really do sweets.”
“Jesus, Jason. Work with me here. Don’t you have any vices? Anything I can tempt you with?”
There wasn’t a man alive who could hear those words from a woman like Victoria and not have his brain immediately jump to the one thing. And Jason’s brain had already been halfway there since the moment he’d snapped eyes on her from the front seat of his Jeep.
Dressed casually in jean shorts—modest in length by today’s standards—her long, toned legs were not to be ignored, and yeah, he’d taken a second to ogle those legs before removing his sunglasses. Lean muscle and smooth tanned skin—his hands had itched to run up their long lengths. And that little dimple of muscle at her bicep? Hot as hell.
He’d suspected she had something going on under her navy uniform the first two times he’d met her, but seeing her like this? Out of uniform, in skin-exposing summer clothes, tattoo revealed—it brought his thoughts clear out of the professional zone, that was for damn sure.
Realizing he’d waited a bit too long before answering, Jason cleared his throat. “There is something.”
She bit her lower lip nervously. Had her mind gone there too? Was she contemplating all the ways in which she might tempt him?
There were about a million inappropriate but completely true things he could say in answer to her question, but he made himself focus on the only one that didn’t involve them getting naked and horizontal. Or vertical. She looked strong and flexible, they could probably—Enough. He needed to get his head out of the gutter and concentrate on the opportunity Victoria had just unknowingly presented.
“I’ll help you out. I’ll go to this wedding with you and spare you from your crazy mother and help you keep your pride with Graham. But you have to do one thing for me in return.”
Head tilted to one side, she regarded him warily. “And what’s that?”
“Be my eyes and ears inside your firehouse.”
Her brows drew together. “Eyes and ears? What do you mean?”
“I mean that Evanston has had two major incidents almost exactly one month apart and both of them in the area of the same fire station.”
“But surely that’s just a coincidence. That doesn’t really mean anything.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” When she still looked skeptical, he tried an analogy. “You’ve heard about how most pedophiles will choose to work in professions where they have easy access to kids, right?”
Victoria nodded.
“Same idea. An arsonist, or someone obsessed with destruction, might be attracted to a job like being a firefighter, where they could see that sort of thing all the time.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“So, you don’t think there’s any possibility anyone in your station is involved?”
“Zero. Zilch. Nada.”
“Good. Then your job should be pretty easy.”
“Whoa, I haven’t agreed to this yet. I’m already the only woman there. I’m not going to ostracize myself further by spying on innocent men.”
“But they don’t have to know you’re spying on them.”
“I suppose…”
“Good. Then we have a deal.”
Victoria shook her head, smiling. “You know, I think I’ve changed my mind. I’m not sure it’s worth all this hassle to go with you. My pride’s not that important. Maybe I’ll just ask Cassidy to the wedding.”
“Who’s Cassidy?”
“Never mind.” She sighed, shaking her head again. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this. But okay.”
Triumphant, he straightened from his lean over the counter. “All right. It’s a deal.”
“I still think you’re way off base,” she said. “But you’re right. No one has to know I’m keeping an eye out. And if someone in my firehouse is behind this, well, they don’t deserve my loyalty.”
“Excellent. So, when’s this wedding I’m going to?”
“Four weeks away.”
“And what’s the dress code? Suit? Tux?”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you?” She smiled—that big knockout smile that had thrown him off guard the first time he’d met her. Now, it just made him nervous.
“Tell me what, Toria?”
“It’s a theme wedding. The guests have to dress as their favorite Disney character.”
“Wait. Wha—”
“I’m thinking you’d make a great Sebastian.”
“Who the fuck’s Sebastian?”
“You know. The lobster from The Little Mermaid? Yeah, we could get you a lobster costume.”
“Uh. No.”
Victoria laughed. And if he hadn’t been three shades of horrified, he would’ve appreciated the purely magical sound of a truly amused Victoria laugh.
“There’s no way in hell I’m playing dress-up for a wedding.”
She laughed harder, little snorts escaping with each giggle.
“I’m serious. And furthermore, you should tell your brother to ask his fiancée for his balls back. I mean who—”
“I’m kidding, Jason.” She wiped at the tears of hilarity clinging to her lashes. “Oh, you should’ve see
n your face.”
“Very funny, Russo.” He tried to sound stern, but her humor was contagious, and he found himself smiling too.
Her laughter tapered off and then was smothered completely when she tipped her beer bottle up and polished off the last of the ale. She put the bottle down with a thunk and brought her mirth-filled gaze up to his. “A suit, Meadows. Wear a nice suit.”
Chapter 9
Victoria rolled over, slowly coming to awareness.
Why was her alarm going off when it was still dark outside?
She rubbed her eyes and squinted at her cell phone on the nightstand. It wasn’t the alarm. It was Camille calling.
At ten at night? She sat up in bed and snatched up the phone. Something was wrong.
“Hello? Camille? What’s the matter?”
“Are you watching the ten o’clock news?”
“No. Why?” Victoria’s heart hammered. With four brothers and a father all working for various police and fire agencies, the words are you watching the news were not typically followed by good things.
“What’s going on, Camille?” She pulled the blanket off the bed, wrapped it around her, and went to the living room to turn on the TV. “Is Tony okay?”
“Yes, he’s fine. Everyone’s fine. Just turn on the local news. WGN.”
Victoria thumbed through the channels, passing WGN in her hurry to find the right station. She flipped back until a familiar face appeared on the screen. “Oh. My. God.”
“I know!” Camille said. “They’re asking him questions about the photo.”
Stunned, Victoria flopped onto the couch. Jason glared back at her from the flat screen. Well, not at her, but at the balding reporter asking him questions as he walked through the police station parking lot.
“What is the nature of your relationship with Victoria Russo?”
“Oh, shit,” Victoria muttered.
Camille was the only one who knew the truth behind that photo. She’d told her best friend the whole embarrassing tale about how earlier that day she’d cajoled Jason into playing along to save her pride. But she’d never expected that he’d have to pretend for the entire city of Chicago and all of its surrounding suburbs. And on the news no less!
Burn for You Page 9
