Free The Night Belongs to Fireman by Jennifer Bernard

can’t take a chance.”
    T he look on Fred the Fireman’s face made Rachel feel about as low as the carpet under her feet. And the thing was, she didn’t want to turn him down. Everything about him appealed to her. She’d never been drawn to huge, muscular men; perhaps because the man who had abducted her had been brutally strong. Fred, to her mind, had just the right balance of muscle and agility. His presence, and his brilliant brown-eyed gaze, made her office foyer several degrees brighter.
    He shoved his hands in his pockets and angled his head briefly toward the floor, before looking up and giving her a quick nod. “I understand. Offer’s open in case you change your mind.”
    He turned to go, giving Stan a soft whistle. The dog didn’t hesitate, but jumped to his feet to follow Fred, whom he clearly adored. Rachel saw so many wounded and traumatized animals that she’d nearly forgotten what a happy dog looked like. Stan was a very contented canine.
    At that moment, as had happened so many times in her life, a dog helped her make a decision.
    When Fred was halfway through the door, she called after him. “Would you like a tour of the place, since you’re here?” He paused, giving her the opportunity to appreciate the muscular shape of his rear. She used to tease her college roommates for obsessing over men’s butts, but at the moment she completely understood why. Because a fine male rear end made you think of the way he’d use those muscles to control his thrusts, to grind . . .
    She shook her head to clear the sudden swarm of hot images. Where the heck had that come from? She didn’t normally lust after virtual strangers.
    Fred stepped back into the room. She managed to lift her gaze just in time to innocently meet his eyes, even though her face felt hot.
    â€œSure, I’d appreciate a tour. I never even knew this place was out here,” he said.
    She made a show of checking her schedule, though she knew her next appointment was in an hour. “Fine, then. Just give me a second, okay?”
    He nodded and snagged his thumbs in his back pockets. She backed away a few feet, then hurried through the back door and swung a right into the bathroom. Hair: totally boring in her work ponytail. Face: no makeup. Outfit: dull as dirt. Normally she dressed for her clients, who happened to be dogs, and none of them cared what she wore. But for time spent with a cute guy, it simply wouldn’t do.
    She whipped out her cell phone and called Cindy, who’d been released from the hospital the day before and probably needed some distraction.
    â€œGirl emergency,” she hissed into the phone when Cindy answered.
    â€œWhat’s up?”
    â€œRemember the fireman from the limo?”
    â€œThe totally hot one who saved our lives? Well, duh. I might name our first kid after him.”
    â€œHe’s here. I’m going to show him the Refuge.”
    Cindy let out a long whistle. “Hoo boy. Let me guess. You smell like dog pee.”
    â€œOh my God, I didn’t even think of that.” She sniffed at her blouse, then grabbed an atomizer from her purse and drenched herself in the outrageously expensive House of Chanel custom perfume her father had ordered for her eighteenth birthday.
    For sure, when her father had given that gift, he hadn’t meant it to cover up dog pee.
    â€œGet rid of your hair tie,” directed Cindy. “Men love loose hair.”
    Rachel yanked her hair from its ponytail and shook it out. “Done. What else?”
    â€œWhat are you wearing? Is it sexy? Or at least stain-free?”
    She shot an agonized glance at her top, which was about as sexy as a maternity blouse. She ran to the bathroom, where she kept a laundry hamper, since plenty of her clothes had gotten soiled in the line of duty. Rummaging through it, she didn’t spot anything in better shape than what she was already wearing.
    â€œThis is a