Free 9781618856173FiredUpHolt by Desiree Holt Page B

didn’t seem to
be making much headway.
    “Where’s
Sam?” she heard a man shout.
    Probably his captain.
    “Still
inside,” someone yelled back.
    Misa’s
insides clutched. Sam, her Sam, was still in that building? How on earth would
he ever get out alive?
    “Get
him out now,” the man ordered. “Right now. The entire building’s about to collapse.”
    She
saw a man in turnout gear hold a walkie-talkie to his mouth, obviously trying
to contact Sam.
    “Get
moving,” he shouted again into the instrument. “Captain says get the hell out
this minute.”
    Apparently
Sam either wasn’t listening or was ignoring him because the man turned to his captain
and shook his head.
    Misa
inched as close as she could to the scene, snapping pictures one after the
other. Then a roar went up from the crowd. People pointed and she looked up. A
fireman in full turnout gear had made it out of a third floor window and onto
the extension ladder. One arm cradled a baby securely over his shoulder.
    The
hysterical woman turned to look at the fireman and ran toward the ladder. It
seemed to Misa it took forever for him to reach the bottom. She snapped shot
after shot of him with the baby, handing the baby to the mother, the mother
reaching up to hug him, the other men congratulating him.
    The
crowd cheered wildly as he handed the baby to the hysterical mother. When he
took off his helmet to swipe at his smoke-blackened face she realized it was
Sam, that he’d made it out safely, and something inside her exploded. Talk about a hero!
    Misa
thought about adding her voice to the others but then his captain pulled him
away. Besides, she needed to get back to the newspaper and upload the shots
onto her computer.
    Finishing
up took her longer than she expected. Her editor loved the pictures, especially
the one of Sam bringing the little boy out of the fire so he bumped it to the
front page of the local news section. He called her into his office, the photos
she’d taken up on his computer screen.
    “How
often do we get a hero like this?” He pointed to the shot of Sam bringing out
the little boy. “Did you get his name? Work with Scully. Pick out the best
shots. Help him dig in the files. See what you can find out about him. Let’s
play it up big.”
    At
last her editor was satisfied and the story was done. Now, finally, she was
home. If she had sense she’d just go right into her house, take a shower
and—and what? Sit and stare at Sam’s house? Was he even home yet?
    Saturday,
he’d told her. I’ll call you Saturday morning.
    But
she’d seen Sam at his finest today and she wanted him even more than before, if
that was possible. Wanted to see him. Hug him for his
bravery. Tear off his clothes.
    Oversexed much?
    If you’re going to make a fool of
yourself go ahead and get it over with.
    She
actually got as far as pulling into the garage and taking her purse and camera
case into the house. Then, as if her feet had a mind of their own, they pulled
her into the next driveway where she stood on tiptoe to peer into the narrow
garage window. She took it as an omen that his car was there, sucked up her
courage, and jogged up to his front door. Hesitating only a moment she pressed
the doorbell. When she heard nothing she rang again, this
time leaning on the bell.
    Yeah, make a pest of yourself.
    She
was about to turn back to her own place when she heard him shouting.
    “Coming, coming, coming!”
    The
door was yanked open and Misa nearly swallowed her tongue. Sam Braddock stood
there in all his overwhelmingly masculine glory clad only in a towel knotted at
his hip. The muscular expanse of chest was dusted with curls the same shade of
dark brown as the hair on his head and the fine sprinkling on his arms and
legs. The flat dark nipples on his chest seemed to be staring directly at her
so she quickly lowered her eyes.
    Big
mistake!
    A
semi-bulge poked at the towel from between his legs. The same
bulge that had her so tongue-tied the day