Page 54 of The Night Belongs To Fireman

“This is the perfect moment to learn. Go forth and flirt with Bradford and make Fred jealous.” Ruthlessly, Liza gave her a little push toward Bradford, who was making his way across the room with two flutes of champagne. “Come on, make us proud.”

The whole thing seemed like a horrible idea, but since Bradford was her date, she ought to at least be nice to him. They found Cindy and Bean and offered their congratulations.

Cindy leaned in to whisper in Rachel’s ear. “You ready for this?” Then she tapped a champagne bottle with a fork. “Attention, wedding people!”

Into the surprised silence, Bean spoke. “Thanks for coming, everyone. In case you never watch the news, the fact is that Cindy might not even be here today if it wasn’t for that man right over there.”

He pointed at Fred, who had propped himself against a wall across the room. Looking startled, Fred jerked to attention.

“That’s right.” Cindy spread her arms wide in an extravagant gesture. “Fred Breen, awesome San Gabriel firefighter, this is all thanks to you.”

“We’re grateful, man. Really grateful. We have a special gift for you.”

Bean reached behind him to grab something from the banquet table. With a triumphant gesture, he thrust it into the air.

A trophy. Rachel gasped. The trophy. The one with the karate guy. It had been glued back together and a black plaque had been added to the base. Cindy must have gone back to the City Lights Grill and found it.

“It says ‘First place in our thanks, Cindy and Bean Potter,’” Cindy said. “Let’s hear it for Fred, everybody!”

Everyone cheered wildly as Fred made his way to collect the trophy. Even though his face was beet red, he was a good sport about it, bowing and hugging the pair, even doing a funny end-zone style dance. Why did he have to be so darn … endearing?

After the excitement had died down, Rachel, feeling thoroughly disgruntled, joined Bradford at a small table, along with plates of crab cakes and baked brie with asparagus. Bradford launched into an account of the leveraged buyout he’d just orchestrated.

As she’d feared, Rachel started to zone out. Fred took a table nearby. That was good, right? He would see her laughing and having fun with Bradford, and jealousy would ensue. Then he’d sweep her into his arms and kiss the breath out of her and …

One of the platter-bearing servers, a young blond woman, stopped to offer him steamed dumplings. When he looked up with one of his friendly smiles, she lit up. They began chatting away like new best friends.

Rachel ground her teeth. Who was supposed to be making who jealous? Or should there be a “whom” in that sentence? She pondered that grammatical question, then remembered that she had a job to do, and it didn’t involve staring at Fred while he flirted with someone else. She forced herself to turn back to Bradford. Remembering Liza’s orders, she offered Bradford her most dazzling smile.

Annoyingly, he barely noticed, since nothing could be more fascinating to him than his investments. Keeping her smile fixed on her face, she rested her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, as if he was so riveting she couldn’t even hold up her own head.

The drone of “debt to equity ratio” and “cash flow” made it impossible for her to overhear what Fred was saying to the waitress to make her laugh so much.

Forget Fred, she ordered herself. Don’t be rude. Focus on the man in front of you.

But she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. Her thoughts kept drifting to the handsome fireman at the table behind her.

“I have to visit the ladies’ room,” she murmured as soon as Bradford paused for a breath.

He nodded absently and took a sip of his Grey Goose martini. She wondered if he was calculating its cost-per-sip.

Fred was still deep in conversation with the waitress. The poor forgotten steamed dumplings were about to slide off the tray. Rachel tried for a sexy swish as she passed Fred’s table, but it had no effect. He and the waitress seemed to be locked in some sort of instant love connection.

In the ladies’ room, she finally let the smile drop from her face. Her cheeks ached from the effort of looking interested. She took a long time washing her hands, going after every little crevice that might hold a speck of dirt. This was a disaster. Liza’s stupid plan had completely backfired on her. She was swimming in jealousy, a horrible feeling, like wading through a swamp. Her friends were absolutely wrong. She’d never wish this feeling on anyone, not even her worst enemy. And Fred wasn’t close to her worst enemy. He was kind and sweet and brave, and he was probably going to fall in love with that waitress and in later years they’d laugh at how they met, when he was guarding that odd, freaky rich girl, the one who’d once been kidnapped.

Ugh, she hated feeling sorry for herself. Self-pity was even worse than pity. Get over yourself. Go out there and dazzle someone. Anyone.

She flung open the door and strode out, only to slam into a man’s hard chest. Fear shafted through her. In a sudden blind panic, she flinched backward, but the man grabbed her by the upper arms.

“What happened? Rachel, is something wrong?”

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