Page 62 of For the Love of Animals

I gasped. “I am not a stripper!”

His gaze travelled lazily up and down my body. “Well, not in that outfit.”

Ouch. Okay, so I’d dressed for comfort rather than style, but his words still hurt. “I think I’ll just leave.”

I turned, but he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I just meant, well, you’ve got a nice figure.”

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. No, not butterflies. Peacocks. “I don’t quite know what to say to that.”

Thankfully, the arrival of a second fireman broke the awkward silence. He wasn’t quite as sexy as the first, but his eyes twinkled.

“What’s the problem?”

Deep breath. “My hamster escaped. And he’s under the floor, and I don’t have any tools, and I was wondering if you might have one of those claw hammers I could borrow?”

Once they’d finished laughing, the sexy guy grinned. “How about I go one better and prove I’m not the arsehole you think I am? It’s shift change in ten minutes. I’ll come around and help you.”

“What about your family? It’s Christmas.”

A black look flickered across his face, but only for a second before his smile ratcheted up again. The sight of those pearly white teeth made me go quite dizzy.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be, and it won’t take long. I’m Chris, by the way.”

“Cara.”

He held out his hand, and when mine touched it, a spark buzzed along my arm as my stomach did a backflip. Vet? What vet?

“We’ll all help,” Chris’s friend said. “I had a hamster when I was a kid. Slippery little bugger—he was always escaping. We found him in the chimney one time.”

“At least I don’t have a chimney.”

And that was how, an hour later, my living room was filled with six hot and slightly sweaty firemen, one of them minus a T-shirt, and half of my floor was missing. The musky smell of man permeated through the house, and I concentrated on my breathing so I didn’t start panting. Hot damn. Happy Christmas, Cara.

Chris leaned forwards on his knees, shining a torch into the darkness. I took a moment to admire the way his trousers clung to his well-muscled backside and tried not to smile too widely. Thanks, Hammie. This was the best Christmas gift ever.

“There he is,” Chris said. “Come here, little fella.”

He reached down and scooped up a sleepy Hammie, who at that moment I decided to rename Houdini. It seemed appropriate. Chris’s hand touched mine again as he passed the hamster over, and that spark crackled once more, stronger this time. Did Chris feel it too?

“Don’t suppose you’ve got a coffee?” one of his friends asked, breaking the moment. “I’m parched.”

“Sure. Right away.”

And thank goodness for special offers, because I had enough deluxe deep-filled mince pies for five each.

Houdini barely stirred as the firemen began to hammer my floor back together, while I focused on bulging biceps and flexing abs. If only I could have taken photos, because this was a moment to treasure. I almost wished I’d bought myself a gerbil too.

But twenty minutes later, the carpet was back in place, and the men trooped out. All except Chris, anyway.

“You need a few more nails in those floorboards. I could come over next week and fix it if you like?”

His initial cockiness had subsided, and as he looked down at me, his flickering smile made him look a little…nervous?

“Are you sure?”

“Wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

“In that case, I’d really appreciate it.”

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