The Firefighter's Cinderella (10 page)

“Do you like to rumba?”

She looked up into eyes that flared in passion. “Yes.” Tasha wasn't capable of another syllable. This time she was aware of how much he wanted her. The signs were unmistakable.

He drew her closer, so close she could feel how much he wanted her. Tasha put one hand on his shoulder and the other in the hand he held against him.

She nestled into his neck and followed his lead. “When did you learn to dance like this?”

“I've dated a few girls south of the border. They love to dance. I found it romantic. Where did you learn?”

“Nothing as exciting. I went to a cotillion class. I
don't know how I would have made it through if Tim hadn't been there to dance with me.”

C.J. stiffened.

“What's wrong?” she cried.

“Will Tim always come between us?”

Tasha took a deep breath. “No, but he was a part of our lives, and his name will come up from time to time.”

“I know.” C.J. relaxed and let their bodies sway to the music.

This was how it felt to fall in love. Real love, not some childhood crush. Tasha was shocked by the emotions flooding her system.

She had too much going on to bring someone into her life and heart right now. And until she knew how C.J. truly felt about her…

He kissed the side of her face. She thought he was going to kiss her mouth when he said, “We have to catch the shuttle now.”

 

“H
EY
! D
O YOU WANT
to come upstairs?” Tasha called from the top floor of the villa.

C.J. had gone through a torrent of emotions since they'd left Amigos. It dawned on him that this could be a one-sided relationship. Except he'd seen and felt emotion coming from her. He just had to give her time.

“Do you need help?”

“Not that kind of help, cowboy.” Her giggling made him crack a smile. “I was hoping we could drink some wine and see what was on
Saturday Night Live
.”

“We're not going back to the city tonight?” Pictures of being alone with Tasha ran through his mind, raising his temperature.

“Do you have to work in the morning?” she asked.

Was he fooling himself or was she flirting? “My shift starts Monday night,” he said.

“Perfect.”

“How is this perfect? I don't have pajamas.”

“I wouldn't worry too much. I happen to know you love to climb into bed in the buff when you have your own quarters.” He could hear her giggling upstairs.

“Who told you that about me?”

“Are you embarrassed?”

He smiled. “No,
shocked
would be the word.” He felt himself blush at her knowing something so intimate about him. “Who gave away my secrets? Tim?”

“Why,
you
did, Jeremiah! A number of times, in fact, as you headed to your room to sleep after a bad fire. Hey, will you please come upstairs? I hate having this conversation between floors. It's making me think you take more time in the bathroom than a girl.”

“I'll be right there!”

Only another firefighter knew what it was like coming off shifts where you were so tired your mind played tricks on you. But if Tim hadn't told her…

Could his buddy have been jealous at the thought of Tasha taking an interest in his best friend? Men were protective of women they cared for, and Tasha was a prize.

“Sweet!”
she called out. “Guess what I found?” He could hear her dancing around.
“Flight of the Conchords!”
It was a favorite HBO sitcom they used to watch before…Tim died. “Are you hungry?” she asked. “I can order a pizza.”

“Sounds just like old times.” And just what he
didn't
want to do. But no matter what, he was going to find out how Tasha felt about him.

He walked up the stairs, where he discovered the place was indeed a beautiful luxury villa. The pitched ceiling had dark wood beams that complemented the gleaming hardwood floor. The main hallway led to a bedroom with the light on. He entered.

Here, plush carpet covered the floor. A handcrafted, built-in cabinet contained a big-screen television. Three leather couches were arranged invitingly, with Tasha curled up in a blanket on one of them.

From what he could tell with the dimmed lighting, the walls had been plastered in a sun-burned color that gave warmth to the room. The huge fireplace on the back wall had an exquisite marble mantel.

“This is beautiful.”

“I like it here.”

“Just
like?
”

“Well, all I ever do is work. But yes, it's an attractive place to work. I think that's why I bought it.”

“I thought you built it. It has your taste.”

“You know my taste, huh?”

“I think so.”

“The people who owned it knew quality. They lost the place in the recession.”

“You feel bad for them, don't you.”

“Yes. They were a sweet older couple who lost most of their retirement savings in the stock market.”

“Did you spend time with them?”

“Oh, no. My Realtor told me about them… They think some terrible person from San Francisco named Stormy bought their beloved place.”

A chuckle escaped. “So your kitty bought the villa.”

“I needed to cover myself. The less people know, the less they ask. I paid cash for this place under the guise of a rich girl who wanted to get away on weekends. The best story yet is that I'm Stormy, a gangster's kept woman. That is completely true.” She stole a mischievous look at C.J.

“There are countless documents in here from workers willing to testify about Mendez's treachery,” she said seriously. “Once he's caught, I can give some to the D.A. The others are mine, while I continue my mission to help these people.”

“Does Stormy like it here?”

“Stormy the gangster cat?” She paused. “I don't know. I've never brought him here.”

“Why's that?”

“He gets carsick.”

C.J. roared with laughter.

“Why don't you take a seat?” Tasha emerged from her cocoon of blankets. The sight brought him alive. She wore a thin pink T-shirt with matching pajama bottoms. Nothing too revealing, but she still looked delicious. He ached for what he wasn't sure she was ready to give.

She patted the cushion next to her. “Sit down and relax.” She got up and walked to a corner, where there was a fridge. Her shiny dark hair swirled around her shoulders, driving him to distraction.

“If you don't want to watch
Flight of the Conchords,
we can see a movie.”

This whole friend facade was about to destroy him. “The sitcom's good. Is that a real or fake fireplace?”

“Gas. Flip the switch. It's a little chilly up here. Do you prefer a pinot grigio or merlot?”

He stroked his jaw absently. “I know you love a good pinot, so I'll drink what you're having.”

She popped up with a bottle in hand. “Good choice. I've been waiting to open this beauty for a while.”

“For what kind of occasion?” It wasn't his business, but the idea of her with another man made him ill.

“For when Fernando Mendez is incarcerated.”

“I think you and most of California will be celebrating.” C.J. sank onto the couch with relief.

“Here you go.”

Thank God,
he thought to himself. He needed something to focus on other than her sexy saunter. He took the wineglass and drank a little. “This is really good wine.”

“I thought it would be.” She looked happy as she sat next to him. “Which episode shall we start with?”

“Is that what you want to do?” He couldn't handle watching her sip her wine while watching TV when he wished she was kissing him instead.

“What do you mean?” She looked at him intently.

“Tasha, I'm a man who can take only so much.” He leaned forward to grasp her glass, putting it and his on the coffee table. None too gently, he sat back and pulled her into his arms. “You're gorgeous. You know that, don't you?”

“So are you.”

Their eyes met and clung, speaking silently. C.J. rose and carefully picked her up. “Where's your bedroom?” Her trembling prompted him to hold her closer.

“At the other end of the hall.” With a smile, she kissed his stubbly jaw all the way to his ear.

He noticed her bedroom was done in the same motif as the rest of the villa. After placing Tasha in the middle of the bed, with its creamy linen sheets and cover, he walked over to the smaller fireplace in the corner and switched it on.

 

T
ASHA'S HEART WAS THUMPING
so fast she could barely think. On a certain level she knew what she was doing, but wondered if she was ready. She'd never been with a man before!

She took in the sight of him and shivered. “You're really something, C.J.”

“So are you.”

In quick strides he reached her bed, where they met in a tight embrace. They began kissing each other with mindless abandon. Tasha felt a wild desire to touch him everywhere, and he apparently felt the same, caressing her neck, her shoulders, her hair.

Then he rolled her onto her back beside him. The look in his eyes, the hunger for her, was something she'd never experienced.

His lips found hers again and his hand gently moved under her T-shirt. He was kissing her in a way that made all thoughts disappear and the longing to be loved take over. She wrapped both arms around his neck to pull him closer, unable to get enough.

C.J. lifted his head just inches from her face, tangling his fingers in her hair. His eyes met hers for a long, intense moment before he said, “For the first time in my life, I want you to know, I've fallen in love.” His
voice was husky and the look in his eyes convinced her it was true.

At that he kissed her again, with such fervor she could barely keep up. But his confession of love sparked a question, one she hadn't thought about until this moment. She needed an answer before they took this any further.

It was a struggle to move her body away, since she was just as caught up in passion as he was. “Wait.” She put her hands on his chest. “We need to talk first.”

“Tash, sweetie, what is it?” He'd felt her body go stiff against him, and he knew something was wrong. For the first time in his life C.J. was in love, and somehow he'd blown it.

“Tell me what's going on.” Was she going to reject him? When Tim died, C.J. realized now, he'd cocooned himself, making sure nothing and no one could hurt him. And just when he'd opened his heart up all over again…

“It's hard.”

“Most things in life are.”

C.J. felt almost ill. She still loved Tim, who would forever come between them. He'd been a dreamer. Whatever made him think he stood a chance with her?

“First,” she began, “can you tell me
why
you love me?”

“Sure.” He looked down at Tasha's scared expression and realized she needed reassurance. With his free hand he began to caress her face and hair. She wasn't just anyone. She was the woman he loved.

“What's taking so long?” Tears were forming in her eyes.

“I'm trying to get myself under control. You have to
understand how tempting you are right now.” He gently wiped the tears away.

“Oh.”

“Tasha, you're so easy to love. You're the funniest, kindest, most inverted snob I've ever known. A freedom fighter who puts her life on the line to help people most others try to forget. You're generous to a fault and the sexiest woman I've ever known. You're the whole package. Does that answer your question?”

She looked at him in disbelief. “Then why didn't you do anything about this before now?” Her question knocked him sideways. “Except for being skinny, I was all that stuff before. Why now?”

He sat up on the bed and ran his hands though his hair. “Like I said,
before now
you were in love with my best friend! I knew you were off-limits.”

“But he died, C.J. If you had feelings for me like you say you did, why didn't you come and find me right away?”

He rubbed a hand over his face in frustration. “It was too soon! If I'd come on to you right after his death, you would have thought the worst about me. You would have thought I'd dishonored my friend.”

She moaned. “Maybe, maybe not. But you never gave me an opportunity. It took a fluke meeting, where you saw the final product of months of hard work to lose all that weight, before you finally pursued me.” Tasha climbed off the bed and began to pace the floor of the bedroom.

“That's not it at all, Natasha.” He couldn't understand that she would think this was all about her looks.

“Isn't it?” Her pain was as sharp as his.

He'd dated so many beauties, and not one of them had ever made him feel the way Tim's girl did. There he went again—labeling her “Tim's girl.” In the end it seemed as if his old friend was going to have the final victory.

“Tasha—”

“I recall on the ambulance ride to the hospital you asking me when I'd changed.”

“Yes…”

“I could see how you looked at me.”

C.J. jumped off the bed to grab her shoulders. “Tasha, I
always
looked at you. I just had to hide it better. You had heatstroke and had lost weight. I was trying to see if it
was
still you.”

“Liar.”

“Is that what you think I am?” She might as well have kicked him in the gut.

“I… No.” Tears began to trickle out of her eyes. “I just want to know why, if you really found me attractive before, you waited till I was thin to act on it.”

“I was in mourning, Tasha. I didn't even call my family. All I did was throw myself into my work. Most of the time anything to do with Tim hurt. What if you'd turned me down, and I was left with nothing all over again? You were Tim's girl. It's a hard thing for a guy to overcome. The idea to call you for a date was overridden by fear.”

“How do I know what to believe?” She sounded so torn.

“Do you believe I love you now?” He gazed at her, silently begging her to look at him.

“Y-yes, and I don't know why.”

He hugged her to him. “Then let's take this slow until you aren't confused anymore. Let's watch
Flight of the Conchords
. Which season shall we see?”

 

T
ASHA CREPT OUT OF HIS
warm embrace on the couch. He was asleep. She needed time and distance. She didn't want to hurt C.J., either.

She padded back to her bedroom, grabbed some clothes and called for a limo. Luckily, this was Napa Valley, where the rich played and transportation was always available with the right funds.

She scribbled a note.

D
APHNE POKED HER HEAD
into Tasha's office. “Are you ready to go? All my friends are here.”

“No,” Tasha said for the tenth time that day. Daphne had organized a girls' night out and was insisting Tasha come, but she had too much work to do, not to mention all the signed statements against Mendez she needed to gather up in Yountville. She planned on handing them over on Monday. The state wanted to get him one way or another.

A working vacation in Napa had to be better than staying in the penthouse. The place perpetually reminded her of the home she'd lost in the fire. At the villa she could fantasize about C.J.

It had been two weeks since she'd left him. Not a day, not an hour went by that she didn't think about him. She had no idea what he thought of her now, but she hadn't forgotten he'd told her he loved her.

Why did she always bring the fat girl into it? It was because the fat girl had needed answers, and his had finally made sense. Now she was desperate to talk to him. Tasha needed to make things right
tonight
. Now she was desperate to talk to him.

She could hear Daphne's ragtag group of friends out in the reception area. She'd met them before, and they didn't look like they could possibly get along. Some were into hair. Others into motorcycles. Yet they all had the same passion—a love of tattoos.

She didn't mind a cute little one, some sort of symbol with meaning. But these women, Daphne included, took it to the extreme. It was their
art
. They drew it, then wore it. Tasha loved Daphne enough to tolerate it as long as her assistant covered herself up properly for the office.

The craziest part was when this group got together
and went out to party. They found the most amazing ways to display their designs with their skimpy clothes. If she didn't need Daphne so much, Tasha had thought of giving her some seed money to start a business of dressing tattooed women. She had a gift for it.

Maybe by Christmas, Mendez would be caught and Tasha could bring on a new assistant. She would hate to lose Daphne, but the idea of seeing her excel at what she loved was so appealing.

Right now Tasha and a few diplomats were working with the Mexican head of state on his three-to-one plan to keep his people home. It was a brilliant idea, where Mexican nationals sent money to their families, who took it to a factory owner. Mexican officials, through proper channels, would pay that owner three times the amount to get his business off the ground. It allowed the family unit to stay together and created pride in the worker. Tasha loved the idea.

Anyone under her watch who was unable to obtain a green card in America was being sent home with money, to a destination where factories were hiring or were being built and would soon be hiring. That way men could bring their families with them as they helped build their country's economy.

It was fast becoming Tasha's other option for workers who wanted nothing more than a better life.

Maybe she could ship materials to a factory for motorcycle wear. Daphne could coordinate it and be the designer. It would give Tasha a great way to keep an eye on ventures she was supporting south of the border, and help a friend by giving her an outlet for her creativity.

Tasha was an avid art lover, and derived joy out of
watching young artists shine. It would be exciting to see what Daphne could do.

“Earth to Natasha!” Daphne was back in her office. Her body was draped in boas, and she placed a flute of champagne on Tasha's desk. “Drink up and let's go.”

“Daph, seriously! I need to work.”

“I know, boss, and I love ya, but it's Friday and we're taking you out for a night of fun.”

“No motorcycles.” Hoots of laughter sounded from reception.

“I know, because I'm driving,” Daph announced. She stared at Tasha's jacket. “Your outfit is ridiculous for a night on the town.”

Tasha stood up and took a swig of the champagne. “It's perfect for the office, not for painting the town red.” She finished her drink. “Okay, okay, but I'll need to go home and change.”

“Not with me around, you don't.”

Daphne hauled her boss out to the reception area, where she handed over a pink-and-red bag full of tissue. Tasha reached in, and pulled out a silky red cocktail dress. It was beautiful. “This is amazing.”

“I thought you'd like it. Now the sassy part.” One of Daphne's friends handed her a shoe box. Tasha took off the lid. The highest pair of black satin sling-back heels she'd ever seen were lying inside.

“You know I'll trip and fall wearing these, Daph.”

Her friend lifted an eyebrow. “You wore three-inchers today. I think the dress will give you the attitude to wear them.”

“Where did you get the money for them?”

Daphne waved her hand as she sipped champagne.
“I charged them to the firm. I claimed it was for an auction.”

Tasha rolled her eyes. “Daphne, we've talked about this before.”

“I know, but you've been so sad since you stopped seeing Mr. Fireman. I wanted to cheer you up.”

Natasha put down the box. Trying to think amid the commotion, she pulled the clip out of her hair and ran her fingers through it. She would have to talk to Daphne again, but not now.

“So, what are you ladies wearing?” she asked.

It wasn't until then that she noticed they all had on raincoats, which was common enough when living in San Francisco. Fear struck when they took them off. What she saw should have been caught by a photographer and submitted to a contest. The women were dressed in a variety of scanty black and red dresses, pants and tiny halter tops made of leather and silk, and accented with chains. A lot of skin showed. Skin covered in tattoos. It would win a prize for content alone. Now she remembered why she never went out with Daphne and her friends for fun. She looked too out of place.

She wasn't allowed to stare long. They whisked her to the ladies' room for Daphne's ministrations. The girl was a genius at putting a look together.

All those years at Neiman Marcus gave her the knowledge, but it was more than that. She had inborn talent. The thought of telling her she wanted to make her a fashion designer for one of the factories to be built made Tasha's plans for her all the more exciting.

“You look beautiful, Tasha. Now let's go,” Daphne stated.

Tasha looked at herself in the mirror, the inner fat girl unable to believe what she saw. Her hair had been pulled to one side, letting curls fall seductively over one shoulder. The stunning red dress caressed every curve as if made for her. Even her makeup made her look desirable.

Suddenly self-conscious, she turned her gaze from the mirror and asked, “Is Richard coming?”

“Of course,” said Daphne. “Who do you think is reserving our spot for dinner?”

“That's good.” At least she'd have someone to talk to. Tonight the longing in her heart for C.J. was twice as bad—she'd have to put off her plan till tomorrow to make things right between them. “Thank you, Daphne. Let me lock the doors and we'll be off.”

They set off into the cold, foggy night with lots of hoots and hollers.

 

“S
O WHAT ARE WE DOING
here?” Tasha asked a few minutes later. The Museum of Modern Art was one of her favorite places. The building alone screamed art. It had a turret, and an oculus for a skylight.

Daphne passed the valet her keys. “Terrance is hosting a party here and invited us ladies for drinks before we head into South Market for dinner.”

Tasha blinked. “I have to hand it to you, Daphne. This is turning into a fun night. I haven't seen my buddy Terrance since the ball. This must be some swanky party, bringing out the red carpet and all. What room
did he get to decorate?” She could barely contain her excitement.

“He about died when he called me about it. I think he was hyperventilating.”

“Ah. That means he's doing both the Haas Atrium and the Schwab Room. No wonder he was in a tizzy. That would be his dream.” She hugged Daphne. “You're going to love this place. It's incredible.”

Daphne looked at her as if she were crazy. “That's exactly what Terrance said.”

Big band music floated through the air as they made their way through the gift shop to the coat check. Tasha couldn't help but dance along. She adored the song that was playing. “Daph? Don't you think it's weird that there's no line for the coat check?”

“I think the event started a lot earlier. That's why Terrance said it was okay to drop in.”

“Then you'd think people would be leaving.”

The party was curtained off so outsiders couldn't glimpse what was going on. All Tasha could see were the famed rainbow pictures over the drapery.