All Summer Long (Fool's Gold #9)(29)

“What’s this all about?” she asked. “I thought we were just going to have sex.”

“This is having sex.”

“No one is naked.”

“Flirting is foreplay. You’ll like it.”

“I doubt that.” Why did there have to be foreplay? Why couldn’t they just get to it and get it over with?

“Then I like it. It’s fun.”

She hadn’t thought of sex as being fun. To her, it was something to be endured for the greater good.

She sighed. “Why can’t you be a regular guy and just want to get to it?”

“Because just getting to it is what hurt you in the first place.”

The man saw too much, she thought, more impressed than annoyed. “So we have to flirt?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know how and I don’t think I’ll be very good at it.”

He flashed her another smile. “That’s the can-do spirit that we all admire.”

“Shut up or I’ll hurt you with my clipboard.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Humor flashed in his eyes. And an invitation.

Charlie swallowed hard, then said, “I could so take you. I’m tough and you can’t possibly handle me.”

She felt stupid and vulnerable as she spoke. Exposing herself like that. Because there were a thousand horrible things Clay could say. Something along the lines of “Why would I want to?” or “You’re right. I couldn’t handle a woman as big as you.”

Instead he moved a little closer. “I’m good at handling.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. “I have no idea what to say. I suck at this.”

He surprised her by leaning in and kissing her. His lips lingered for a second, before he straightened. “Don’t worry about it. There’s a path to seduction, Charlie, and we’re going to walk every step. No matter how long it takes.”

With that, he turned and walked away. She had a bad feeling she was standing there, slack-jawed. Looking as stunned as she felt.

When he drove off, she was able to close her mouth. A few seconds later, movement returned and she could walk to her truck. But it was nearly an hour before the tingles he generated faded. In her book, that was going down in the win column.

CHAPTER SEVEN

DOMINIQUE HAD NEVER been in a fire station before. She knew what they were, that there were large vehicles and equipment. Burly men with axes. She even understood that her daughter was a firefighter, but knowing and seeing were different.

After stepping out of the limo and onto the curb, she paused.

“This is a mistake,” she murmured to herself.

Justice, wearing his usual dark suit and sunglasses, stood by her door. “Maybe not.”

“Do you have a family?” she asked.

“No, but I know they can be...difficult.”

She studied him for a moment. “I suspect you do,” she said, then sighed. “Fine. Here goes nothing.”

She walked up the wide driveway, toward the open garage doors. Fire trucks faced out. They were big and slightly intimidating. She couldn’t imagine riding in one, let alone driving one. No doubt there were professional drivers who took care of that sort of thing. A woman in a uniform looked up as Dominique approached.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see my daughter. Chantal.”

The other woman, forty-something with drab skin and lines around her eyes, shook her head. “Sorry. There’s no one here by that name.”

Dominique braced herself for the unpleasantness and said, “Charlie. You would know her as Charlie.”

The other woman’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, sure. Let me get her.”

Dominique smoothed the front of her jacket. In deference to small-town America, she’d dressed more casually. Tailored trousers, a silk blouse and a light jacket. She preferred a suit, but fitting in was important. She might be here awhile.

A door opened and Chantal stepped into the garage area. Dominique drew back when she saw her daughter’s dark blue uniform. The pants were terribly unflattering and the short-sleeved shirt was boxy.

“Mother,” Chantal said warily. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you. We need to talk.”

“I’m at work.”

“You don’t seem very busy.”

“I’m still at work. You’re the one who always told me that without an excellent rehearsal there can’t be an excellent performance.”

“I’m amazed you remembered.”

“I did and this is my rehearsal time. We can talk later. When I’m not on duty.”

“When will that be?”

Before Chantal could answer, a horrendously loud sound cut through the quiet afternoon. It was followed by a voice blaring out something about an accident, followed by an intersection.

Dominique found herself in the middle of frantic activity. People burst into the garage area from all directions. Chantal grabbed her by the arm, dragged her over to the wall and pushed her onto a bench.

“Stay here until we’re gone,” she commanded, then turned and ran.

Dominique bounced back to her feet. “Where are you going? You can’t simply walk away from me like this.”