Free Flaming Desire - Part 1 (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) by Helen Grey Page A

“Why?”
    He shook his head. “Just an attempt at friendly conversation.”
    We were steps away from my car now. I pulled the keys from my purse and pushed a button on the remote. My headlight and taillights flashed, and then I pressed another button. The back window popped open. Reaching for the door handle, I opened the door toward me. I looked up at him only to find him staring at the contents stowed behind the rear passenger seats. “What?”
    He grinned. “For one, I just didn’t expect you to drive a Jeep,” he said, shrugging.
    “Really?” I asked. “And what exactly did you expect I would drive?” Was he flirting?
    “Oh, I don’t know, a Camry maybe, or a Ford Focus.”
    I frowned and made a face. “I do a lot of driving between here and Colorado—”
    “Seriously?”
    I tucked my purse inside a plastic storage crate near the door like I always did, wondering why he stared so curiously at the items in the back. “Yes,” I replied. “I have several friends up there and we get together several times a year—”
    He gestured to the supplies I kept for wildfire fighting neatly organized in the back of the Jeep. Ropes. First aid kit. Helmet. Protective gear. He then focused his attention on a pile of supplies tucked up against the back seat. A claw tool. A fire ax, shovel, and beneath the pile, the edge of a firefighter’s helmet. He stared from me to the supplies and back again.
    “What?”
    “You’ve got quite a rig back there,” he commented. “Mine is almost exactly like it.”
    I smiled. You’re an independent contractor too, own your own rig and gear?”
    “Most of it,” he said. “If I’m close, I drive, which I’m sure you do as well, considering your choice of vehicles.”
    I laughed. He had me pegged. It was a common practice with most contracted wildfire firefighters, hotshots and smoke-jumpers, especially those signed on with the National Forest Service or other agencies. Other than that, independent contractors like us would be grouped into teams and flown into trouble spots by the agency in charge, along with their equipment.
    He gave me an appraising look. “Advanced ACLS?”
    I nodded. I was Advanced Cardiovascular Life Support certified.
    He grinned. I felt an odd sense of pleasure and pride.
    I closed the back door and then turned to move toward the side of the Jeep. I thought he was going to step back, but he didn’t, and once again, I bumped into him. Felt his rock hard chest. My hand brushed up against his pants and I realized that he was sporting what I sensed was the beginning of a hard-on. Seriously? Just seeing my rig got him off?
    He gently placed his hands on my shoulders until I regained my balance. He stared down at me, his expression serious. “I’m just going to throw this out here, Jesse—”
    “Jessica,” I said, although my voice only came out a whisper.
    “I’m attracted to you,” he said bluntly. “I know you’re my mentor, and I appreciate that and recognize the boundaries. At the same time, as you obviously just felt, I do have to admit that I’m attracted to you.”
    I stared at him a moment, not sure he had just said that. Was he always so blunt? Again I felt the heat of the blush travel up into my cheeks, although I doubted he could see it in the growing darkness. Thank goodness for small favors. Desire surged through me. Would it really matter if I admitted the same? I quickly shook my head. Foolishness. I had enough to do without getting involved with someone like Matt. He was obviously a player. I too had seen the looks women had given him today; the contemplation, the open desire in many of their expressions. I might feel the same, but I certainly wasn’t going to admit it. I wasn’t as easy as Vanessa, that was for sure.
    “Want to go have a drink, talk about this?”
    I took a step back even though I longed more than anything to throw my arms around him, feel his lips on mine, and make out with him. “I don’t drink.”
    “I