Playing with Fire: The Hotshots Series, #1

By Nessa Page

She's playing with fire, but it burns so good.

While celebrating her impending divorce with wine and a nap, Amber accidentally destroys her kitchen by way of lasagna flambe. As if that wasn't embarrassing enough, the hot fireman who comes to her rescue is none other than her childhood best friend's annoying little brother. Except now, Brett's all grown up—with muscles in all the right places and a smile that makes her melt.

 

She needs a place to stay and he's offering his place. With the close proximity raising the temperature between them, can she trust that he wants more than a fling before one of them gets burned?

Warning: This series contains smoking hot firefighters and the women who burn for them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nessa Page
• Release date: Oct 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201279394

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Amber

Are you nervous? I asked Donovan as I rest my hand on his shaking knee. The contact seemed to soothe him a little, and he placed one hand over mine, keeping the other on the steering wheel.

Nah, just got a lot of energy. What would I have to be nervous about? He closed his question with a chuckle, but it sounded forced. Everything about Donovan’s demeanor right then seemed unsettled, from the tapping leg, to the way his left hand was tight on the steering wheel.

But he did have a point. What would he have to be nervous about? It was just a small birthday dinner for my best friend, Crystal, that we were going to. The attendees would probably number less than twenty, tops. Plus, cake. Donovan loved cake. All sweets really. I was constantly having to find new hiding spaces for my favorite sweet snacks.

Crystal said Roger is going to break out the poker set tonight if anyone wants to play. You like poker.

Mm-hmm. He didn’t take his eyes off the road but kept stroking the backs of my fingers tenderly. I, on the other hand, kept my gaze glued to his face and inched my hand upward on his leg.

And other than Darla, the whole thing is going to be kid free. So, I can drive home if you want to have a few drinks tonight. Darla, Crystal’s new baby, was barely two weeks old and still nursing, so she got a free pass to the grownup party, while any other kids were relegated to babysitters. Not that I needed to worry about stuff like that.

I’m probably only going to have one beer. You should drink. I’ll drive home. He squeezed my hand. He knew I wasn’t much of a drinker under the best of circumstances, but still never missed an opportunity to encourage me to knock a few back. I thought it was because he just liked how lusty I got when I’d been drinking. Alcohol was a surefire way to make my panties slip right off my body.

Maybe. I shot him a smirk, and he winked back at me, then shifted in his seat as my hand reached his crotch.

He groaned, then nudged my hand away from his fly before letting go of my fingers to adjust his pants. Okay, let’s change the subject—for now. I don’t want to be walking in there pointing obscenely at everyone.

Aw, are you sure? I asked and brushed my hand over the growing erection he was trying to will away. I wouldn’t mind seeing that.

I’m sure you wouldn’t, you damn sadist. His tone was teasing, but I knew how he felt about being aroused in public. That is… he hated it. He hated anything that made a spectacle of him.

I took pity on him and drew my hand back. We were only a few blocks from Crystal and Roger’s house, and as much as I enjoyed getting Donovan all worked up, I didn’t want to embarrass the poor man by making him parade around in front of a houseful of people with a raging hard-on.

When we got there, we had to park half a block away because so many cars were parked out front, but the weather was nice, just the perfect mix of late afternoon warmth and early fall crispness. The walk to the front door was like a stroll in the park. Donovan took my hand in his as we sauntered down the sidewalk, bordered by idyllic lawns and well-kept foliage. Crystal’s neighborhood was the epitome of the suburban dream, and if I hadn’t loved my craftsman bungalow in the historic district downtown so much, I would have been a little jealous.

I wouldn’t mind living in a neighborhood like this, Donovan announced, and I searched his expression to see if he was serious. He’d always said he loved living downtown, close to museums and cafes and artisan shops, galleries, theaters and all the other amenities city life had to offer.

But neighborhoods like this were for families. And we didn’t have a family. We had each other, husband and wife, sure, but Donovan had been insistent from day one that he didn’t want kids until he was settled in his career.

Part of me had always suspected he never wanted kids at all and was only telling me what he thought would make me happy, keeping the dream of children alive for me. But he’d never admitted it.

Yeah, it’s nice. Probably a good place to raise kids, I answered, gauging his reaction to my words. I thought I saw him wince, but it could have been a trick of the light. He didn’t say anything else as we made our way up the brick-paved driveway leading to Crystal and Roger’s front door. When we got there, he let go of my hand to ring the bell, then shoved both hands in the pockets of his slacks.

Barely a moment later, Roger threw the front door open and greeted us with a wide smile. Hey, you made it! He motioned us inside and offered to take our coats.

Thanks, Donovan said as he handed over his blazer.

I’m okay, I said with a little wave. The inside of the house was warmer than outside, but I was still a little chilled. I held on to my oversized, fluffy cardigan for the moment, wrapping it a little tighter around myself. I handed Roger the present I’d brought for Crystal instead, and he thanked me before setting the shiny-papered box on the entry table with a stack of others.

Crystal is in the kitchen. Follow me; she’ll be so excited to see you. Can I get you guys a drink? Roger’s excitement was almost palpable. He really enjoyed doing things like this for Crystal’s birthday. The man genuinely loved celebrating his wife, which was one of the many reasons I was so glad my longtime best friend had married this wonderful man.

And to think, they hadn’t even liked each other at first, had been forced to work together on an assignment for the newspaper they both worked for. Only after they were stranded together in a snowstorm did they finally make nice. Real nice, I thought as I followed Roger into the kitchen and got a glimpse of my best friend holding her tiny baby girl.

Oh my goodness! I practically cooed as I rushed to Crystal’s side and held out my hands for the sleeping baby. I need to cuddle this baby right this second! In the back of my brain, I was vaguely aware of Donovan heading through the kitchen and out the open sliders leading to the back patio and pool area.

Crystal laughed and handed over the bundled newborn. I snuggled her to my chest and rocked her gently, though she didn’t so much as stir from her sleep.

You know, I told my friend, I’m starting to realize I don’t spend nearly enough time cuddling babies. Maybe I should quit my job and become a professional baby snuggler.

You know that’s a real thing, right? she said lightly, reaching for a plastic cup and one of the many bottles of alcohol grouped on the kitchen island. She poured an unhealthy amount of rum into the cup, then filled it the rest of the way with soda. She set it on the counter in front of me.

Girl, no. Don’t tell me that. I will absolutely quit my job tomorrow, I joked. We both knew I loved my job as a tech consultant. I got to tell companies what to do and play with fun new tech at the same time. Though playing with babies all day would certainly have run a close second on my list.

Well, any time you want to borrow mine, you are more than welcome. She’s sleeping sweetly right now, but I haven’t gotten more than a few hours of uninterrupted sleep since she was born.

Roger doesn’t get up with her? My tone made clear that I was ready to go give her husband a stern talking to if I needed to.

Crystal chuckled, Down girl. He gets up with her every single time. We both do.

Every time? I asked in confusion. Why don’t you guys take turns?

We tried, Crystal told me, But neither one of us wants to miss a moment of this time with our little miracle.

And just like that, I got it. Darla really was a miracle. Crystal wasn’t supposed to have been able to carry to term. Not after a car accident had left her fighting for her life. And her pregnancy hadn’t been an easy one. Crystal had almost lost the baby. And yet, here Darla was. Healthy and strong and beautiful.

I handed baby Darla back to Crystal and gave my friend a little hug before picking up the drink she’d made for me and taking huge sip. The liquid burned a solid path down my throat before setting my stomach on fire.

I probably should have eaten something before coming, I mused, but Crystal had assured me there would be tons of food, catered by Marzetti’s, which was only my absolute favorite restaurant in the world. I’d even worn a dress—not to look fancy for the party, but so my food game wouldn’t be ruined by a tight waistband on an expanding stomach. This girl liked to eat.

Come on. Let’s get something in your stomach, then, before it’s too late. One of the benefits of a twenty-five-year friendship meant Crystal knew exactly how much of a lightweight I was and that once I was drunk, I was basically dead weight. Once, in college, she’d had to call her then-boyfriend away from studying for his LSATs to come get us from a bar so he could carry me to the car and then into our dorm. I wasn’t passed out. I just couldn’t make my muscles work after five vodka tonics. After that night, she’d cut me off at three whenever we were drinking anywhere that didn’t have a bed where I could sleep the stupor off.

The dining room, and thus the food table, was remarkably unoccupied, though the spread was amazing. Renaissance kings and queens hadn’t eaten this well. "Will Roger plan my next birthday?" I begged Crystal and was met with a chuckle.

The doorbell rang as I grabbed a plate and began to load up.

Excuse me, Crystal said and headed for the front entryway to get the door.

I kept grabbing food. I overloaded my first plate with a variety of pastas, antipastos, salads, and appetizers, then grabbed a second plate for desserts only. Oh, the cheesecake for sure, I muttered happily to myself as I grabbed three of the raspberry cheesecake petit fours, then moved over to the chocolate