Page 48 of Playing With Fire

Jodi cleared her throat. Reminded herself sternly that she wasn’t a lovestruck kid anymore.

“Am I being stalked by the media?” Ricky crossed the road and leaned down. “If so, then ‘no comment’. But if we are off the record, then a piece of pie from Bean & Co might just save my life and lull me into making some unwise quotes about my superior.”

Jodi’s lips twitched. At this rate, the staff at Bean & Co would have their own breaking news on social media. Guess which highflying local clothes horse (she had actually heard herself described this way) is stoking the fires of homegrown bachelor hunk and firefighter Ricky Sharp?

Ricky stood up. He turned up the collar of his jacket like the romantic lead in a World War II movie, without the cigarette, and gave a dramatic shiver.

Jodi instantly caved. After all, escapees from the Big Apple needed a bit of coddling if they were to survive in the wilds of Upstate New York.

“Hop in,” she said. “That’s an offer I can’t refuse. Besides, I probably have some sort of duty of care to protect a valuable source.”

The Miata purred to life, and they headed towards the main street which was now bustling with the late Friday afternoon crowd.

“So?” she said, super casual. “What’s your next move?”

Ricky grunted. He cocked his head in the direction of a free park right in front of the café, and Jodi swooped in so quickly that his head snapped back against the headrest.

“Fast work,” he muttered.

“You bet.” She threw him a wide smile, then froze.

He was looking straight at her, his dark eyes burning with intensity. And, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, Ricky leaned over and kissed her.

His lips were firm, warm against her mouth.

Oh. Okay. Ummm.

Her tiny gasp of surprise was stopped in its tracks by another, longer kiss—this one harder, searching. Her body responded, instantly, and Jodi felt herself falling into a warm well of pleasure and longing.

Yes please.

She pulled back, wide-eyed.

This close, his skin was a pale, smooth café au lait and she could see faint glints of stubble on his chin. Without conscious thought, her hand drifted to his cheek.

There was a sudden, loud burst of laughter from outside. Jodi leaped back to her own side like a scalded cat. Cheeks burning, she watched as a group of teenagers strolled past staring at their phones and jostling each other.

“That was my next move.” There was a mischievous glint in Ricky’s eyes. And a question that she didn’t know how to answer.

Jodi knew that her cheeks were pink.

Was this some harmless flirtation? Casual sex, friends with benefits? The way people acted in the big city?

Her usually reliable radar didn’t seem to be working as far as Ricky Sharp was concerned.

“My question was simply an invitation to a key figure in an important and unfolding local story to provide a long-overdue update to media,” she said lamely.

“Dear me,” Ricky said mildly. “Glad we cleared up that little misunderstanding.” He opened his door. “And here was me thinking that you were exercising your prerogative as an independent woman to suggest that a romantic gesture would be welcomed.”

Jodi pulled on her leather gloves with a sharp tug that nearly sent her gel nails straight through the tips. She grabbed her bag. Her heart was thudding in her ears, and she could still feel the imprint of his lips.

If she wasn’t careful he would start worrying that she expected an engagement ring and a heart-to-heart with her grandfather. Jodi pasted on a bright woman-of-the-world smile.

“You, Ricky Sharp, are full of bullshit. You do know that?

***

Pie and coffee are always a great comfort after a shock to the system. Jodi knew from personal experience that they also worked remarkably well at loosening the tongues of interviewees who were keeping mum, especially if the pie contained real apple chunks and there was a thin crust of white sugar and cinnamon on top of the pastry. A scoop of vanilla ice cream didn’t hurt either.

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