Heating up the Holidays

But she wasn’t going to be kissing any firefighters, not this Christmas.

The station was on the main drag and directly across the street from the beach. The view was always gorgeous, no matter the weather. During the day she could stare at the waves and the surfers in it, and in the hours before dawn, she could watch the moonbeams bounce off the whitecaps as she did now.

As she slid off the rig into the cool December air, she glanced at her watch-4:30 a.m.

Dustin stuck his head out the front door, making the decorated wreath hanging there tinkle noisily. “Cristina.”

Yes, that was her name. She really wished he wouldn’t talk to her until she was completely over him, because he had one of those low, whisky-thick voices that made her quiver.

“Come on. Come in and get a hot shower.”

“I’m not cold.”

“Get in here anyway.”

That was the thing about Dustin, the defining thing that grabbed her every single time-the way he could make an instant transformation from mild-mannered guy to tough, commanding alpha male. “In a few.”

“You’re filthy.”

Yeah, she hated that voice’s effect on her. Where were her knees? Suddenly she couldn’t feel them. “Well, you’re funny-looking. At least I can shower.”

He just looked at her, not scared off like most, and she sighed. “I’ll be inside in a few.”

He gave her a long assessing look, then shut the door. She sank to the front steps and stared out at the water, too tired to move. If she had even an ounce of energy left in her, she’d kick off her boots and walk to the sand.

Twenty-nine years old and too damn tired to walk to the beach. That was so pathetic, she forced herself to bend over and untie her boots, nudging them off. She shoved her grimy socks into them and left them on the front step, crossing the street in her bare feet.

Even in California December could get downright chilly, and she shivered when the cool sand hit her toes. This year she had Christmas day off, and the two days after that, as well. A rarity. Maybe she should hop on a plane and go south. As in the South Pacific south. Yeah, that would work.

But she wouldn’t, and she knew it. For all her bravado, she wouldn’t enjoy such a thing by herself, and she had no one to take, a depressing thought.

She had been invited to Sam’s house for a Christmas fiesta that he was making with his girlfriend, Sara. Or she could head with Eddie to his sister’s house and be overrun with kids. Or Zach and Brooke had asked her to join them. So had Aidan and Kenzie.

She could do any of that, but she’d told them all she had plans, that she was having a thing. An alone thing, not that they knew that. Much as she loved her friends and even thought of them as family, when it came right down to it, they had their own.

The predawn air wasn’t that bad, maybe fiftyish, but it was accompanied by a breeze that had the water just icy enough to make her gasp when the first wave washed over her feet.

“Are you crazy?”

She didn’t turn to see who had spoken in that quiet, raspy tone. Her body didn’t move at all, except on the inside, where something odd happened deep in her belly-a sort of quiver that she chose to identify as annoyance.

That her nipples tightened was sheer coincidence.

“I’m trying to enjoy a moment here.” She shoved her hands into her pockets rather than face the urge she had to grab on to him, just haul him close by the ears and lay one on him. It was so ridiculous, this insane attraction she had for him. Seriously ridiculous. It wasn’t as if he was going to give Brad Pitt a run for his money. In fact, he was the opposite of Brad Pitt, not GQ gorgeous at all.

Actually, he looked a lot like Harry Potter all grown up: dark, perpetually disheveled hair curling around his ears to just past his collar. Laser-blue eyes, magnified by the glasses he required to see a foot past his face. A crooked smile that was both self-deprecatory and contagious. He was tall, lean and lanky, and…hell. He was attractive, made all the more so by the fact that he had absolutely no idea how much.

Not that she was noticing.

Nope, that ship had sailed. She’d had him, curiosity over. Hunger sated.

Or so she told herself.

But did he take the hint and leave? No. Anyone else would have sensed something in her tone and backed away, but not Dustin. Somehow she didn’t scare him off. Somehow she didn’t piss him off.

It was really quite shocking.

And, she admitted to herself, just a teeny-tiny bit of a relief. People came and went in her life. That was just fact. Her father? Never knew him. Her mother? Traipsing through Europe with a backpack, or so she’d said the last time she’d touched base with her daughter, two years ago now. Any other people who had looked out for Cristina during her rough childhood, and acquaintances since that time, all had moved on and so had she. Apparently, she just wasn’t the type of woman to inspire long-term relationships. In fact, her personal motto read something like a government health warning: Stay away from attachments, as they pose a serious threat to your brains, wallet and if you’re stupid enough, your heart.

Somehow she’d become a firefighter instead of a statistic. Through time and sheer stubbornness on the guys’ parts, she’d developed friendships. She adored Blake like a brother, adored Aidan and Zach, adored all of them-but she still had a limited amount of how much of anyone that she could take.

That didn’t seem to be the case for Dustin, damn him. “I came out here alone. Which means I want to be alone. See how that works?”

“I hear what your mouth is saying, but everything else?” He shifted closer, standing next to her so that her shoulder brushed his arm. “Your body language, your body…”

Was it just her or did he sound all raspy and, dammit, sexy?

“Yeah, they’re all saying something else entirely,” he murmured near her ear, giving her a set of goose bumps.

So he’d seen the happy nipples. She crossed her arms over her chest. “For your information, I’m cold.”

“Hey, whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night.”

Now see, that. That was another thing that made him different. He called her on all her shit, every single time.

No one else did that.

She found herself staring into his glasses at those shockingly blue eyes. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

“Maybe because I’m so badass myself.”

She laughed.

“Okay,” he muttered. “Not so badass. But I see the soft, marshmallow Cristina.”

“I’m not soft. Anywhere.”

“Well, we both know that’s not true.”

There he went with the sexiness again.

He shifted even closer, right into her personal bubble. “I see you, Cristina. I see the woman who feeds the stray cat her leftover sandwich.”

“Only when the bread is stale.”

“The one who always shoves all her spare change in the homeless guys’ hands every time we go downtown.”

“I hate having change in my pocket.”

“The woman who looks at me and her eyes melt.”

“Hell no, they don’t.”

He just looked at her, smiling knowingly.

Ah, crap. “Shut up.”

He did, not because she asked, but because he liked to be quiet sometimes, as she did.

He got her the way no one else did.