The Playboy Firefighter's Proposal

‘A thespian in a fireman’s pants?’

‘You’d be surprised what you’d find inside a fireman’s pants.’ The sparkle in his eyes told her he was fully aware of the innuendo in his comment.

Who could blame her if her cheeks flamed to match the appliances?

‘Get your mind out of the gutter,’ he teased. ‘I’m speaking figuratively.’

‘Like I should know that. But you can’t stop now. Titillate me with tales of firemen’s pants.’

‘There you go again,’ he said, shaking his head at her as they walked to the largest of the engines and he leant against it with a casual air, perfectly in his element and posing more danger by the minute to her already wobbly equilibrium. ‘But since you really want to know, I’ll let you inside just a few of the pairs of pants around this joint. We have an artist, a nurse…’ he held up a hand and counted them off on his fingers ‘…a carpenter, several professional footballers…’ He started the count again with his right hand. ‘A builder and a chef.’

‘So I shouldn’t be surprised at what I find? Even a thespian?’

‘Sure, why not?’ He straightened up and pulled open the door of the vehicle as if it was made of paper, not the huge, heavy thing she knew it was. ‘And if I ever come across one, I’ll be sure to introduce you.’

He sent her a wink that turned her insides to jelly and then motioned her over. She floated across as if under a spell. That was some wink. And now, between his bulk, all broad shoulders and long, lean height, and the huge vehicle rising up beside them, she felt delightfully feminine.

Was this why firefighters were so attractive? They made women feel small and delicate and safe? Even a woman who prided herself on never needing to rely on a man for protection? She shrugged off the thought as being the crazy bit of fluff it was. Since when had feeling like a guy could, and would if the need arose, protect her become a turn-on?

‘Climb aboard. Your magical mystery tour is about to begin.’ Once again he placed his hand on the small of her back as she started to climb up into the cab. The feel of his large hand through the cotton of her shirt was delicious and far too distracting. So much so she could mentally outline exactly where the tip of each finger was resting.

But the familiar anxiety was there, too, that always came with a man’s touch. The anxiety wasn’t as powerful as she would have expected, though, not as powerful as the attraction she was feeling. Normally her anxiety would increase proportionately, but strangely it wasn’t happening. Yes, the niggle of self-consciousness was there, but here she was, experiencing an attraction more intense than she could ever remember feeling, and she wasn’t feeling totally overwhelmed.

On the contrary, he was so close his scent was filling her head and making it spin in a way that left no doubt she was drawn to him. Each time she took a breath, the rush of desire was strong and coursed through her body. He smelt of woods and the outdoors, the blend heady and original. She just knew it hadn’t come out of a bottle, or, if it had, it had mixed with his own natural scent so that it was now his own. If a company could package it, they’d be on to a sure hit. Women would buy it simply to put on their pillows and go to sleep dreaming of a man like Ned.

She lost the smell of him when he closed the cab door behind her, but in seconds he had come around the other side of the truck—oops, the appliance—and was springing into the driver’s seat beside her. She edged closer to take another breath. If scent could be addictive, she was already there and it was a struggle to get her mouth to work and form any words to break the silence.

‘You didn’t tell me which one of those descriptions fits you.’ When he looked at her, she added, ‘Are you the poet? The footballer? The chef?’

‘None of the above,’ he said as he flicked switches and brought the appliance to life, buttons and lights flashing on the console and across a bewildering array of levers and headsets and gadgets. ‘Since I’ve taken on the role of training co-ordinator for the first response unit I’m one of the few without a second job beyond the service. I’m very much full-time here now.’

‘And before?’

He laughed. ‘I was addicted to extreme sports. Still am, in fact, just don’t get quite the same time for it now.’

‘Extreme sports?’ She looked at him to check if he was serious. He didn’t look like he was joking. He was still reading dials, not waiting for her reaction. ‘Like free-climbing and base-jumping?’

‘Very much like that.’

The emergency doctor in her was horrified. The woman in her was undeniably impressed. Impressed and begging for more images to add to her fantasy bank.

‘I thought base-jumping was illegal in Australia?’

‘In some states it is but I haven’t done that yet. But if it’s legal and not just downright stupid, I’ll give it a go.’

‘Were you born an adrenalin junkie?’

He laughed and the sound wrapped around her like a familiar blanket. His dimple flashed in his cheek and his green eyes sparkled. He had one of the most contagious laughs she’d ever heard, a laugh that said life was fun and full of interesting things.

‘I started off slow—Mum took me to swimming lessons when I was six and I absolutely loved the water. That led to triathlons and once I’d done the Hawaiian Ironman the next challenge was extreme sports.’

‘The Hawaiian Ironman—that’s the one with a ten-kilometre swim and finishes with a marathon?’

‘It’s only a three-and-a-bit-kilometre swim.’ He grinned at her. ‘But don’t forget the one-hundred-and-eighty-k bike ride.’

‘And you completed it?’

‘Yep. A long way behind the leaders, I must admit.’

‘That’s still pretty amazing. No wonder you need to jump off buildings now.’

‘Well, I haven’t actually done that yet. Perhaps you should come with me some time?’

‘Sure.’ He turned to her, his expression a mix of pleasure and surprise, probably more like astonishment. Yep, she was pretty sure it would be astonishment as she was gob-smacked at her reply, too.

‘What exactly did you just agree to?’

She did a quick mental back-flip and came up with a save. ‘To watching you do something crazy.’

He tipped his head back and laughed again. ‘Touch'e.’

‘Isn’t it more fun being a hero with an audience?’

‘Hero? My mum would argue that point with you.’ He sent her a sidelong grin that had her gripping the seat cover with her fingernails. ‘But I never say no to an appreciative audience.’

‘I don’t think it’s in a mum’s job description to encourage risk-taking.’ The words came out in a burbled rush. She was still reeling from that grin. ‘What does your dad think? Or did you get your daredevil side from him?’

‘My dad died when I was little, but I think he was similarly inclined, at least before he had children. He was a fireman too—I think lots of us have that need for an adrenalin rush.’

His voice hadn’t changed when he’d answered her, he’d taken her question in his stride and his tone had dismissed the possibility of giving him any sympathy. He’d had an enormous loss as a little boy but it was quite clear he didn’t want her sympathy. She knew how that felt, so she wasn’t sure there was anything to read into it. They hardly knew each other, and she wasn’t rushing to confide her own losses and fears to him. For now, she’d leave it at that.