Burning for You Page 5

  “Oh.” Taylor washed down the cheese-covered chips with more wine.

  He drummed his fingers on the metal table. “It’ll be a great opportunity, but we can’t pay you anything. But the exposure will be great.” He gave a harsh laugh. “You probably hear that a lot.”

  “A time or two.” Taylor realized her wine was almost empty, so she drank the last sip. “I make tons of cold calls trying to drum up business and trying to get invitations to bid. It’s how I landed the calendar project. A lot of blind luck and the fact I work cheap. They couldn’t afford anyone else. I was the lowest bidder. But it paid off. So I get it. You had to ask.”

  “How much do you charge? Like, what was the price for the calendar shoot?”

  Taylor named the figure. “And that includes all the postproduction work. That takes tons of time. I’m still Photoshopping the calendar-shoot pictures.”

  Joe shook his head. “I can’t afford that. Neither can the group.”

  She could hear the disappointment in his voice. “I can help you find someone.”

  “I’d rather have you.”

  The words washed over her, making Taylor wish he meant them in another context. She’d connected with him on a level she didn’t understand. Frankly, her attraction scared her. She’d let him climb into her car, taken him on tonight’s emotional shoot. She’d never shared that experience with anyone. After what had happened with Owen, the fact she’d immediately trusted him spoke volumes.

  Joe reached for a chip, dipped it in rarebit, and placed the cheesy morsel in his mouth. Perfect lips wrapped around the bite. He was temptation personified—she had the urge to see him open those blue-gray-greens on the pillow next to hers. And what would it be like to run her fingers through that luscious hair while she made love to him?

  She hiccupped, so she took a deep breath then reached for her water. After a long drink, she calmed. Just one hiccup this time, not more. Whew. “You’ll find the right photographer.”

  “I have. Your empathy makes you the right person for this project. I realized that when I saw you behind the lens during the calendar shoot. Now, after what I just saw, I’m positive. This book is going to get a lot of publicity. Would that help sway your decision?”

  “So will the calendar,” she pointed out.

  He arched his eyebrows. “You can’t use more?”

  She wavered. “Of course I can, but …”

  He pressed on, sensing her indecision. “Many of the participants are civic leaders. You’d be amazed at the list of who’s who and you’d make some extremely valuable connections. One man is the leader of the St. Louis Film Commission. He works with every movie that’s made in the bi-state area.”

  “Which haven’t been a lot,” Taylor felt compelled to point out.

  “True.” He popped another chip into his mouth. “But he was involved in Gone Girl when it filmed down in Cape. You have to start somewhere.”

  She sighed. “I’ve been trying to start somewhere since I graduated. Do you know how many unemployed photojournalists are out there?”

  “More than there are jobs, which is why you need mine.” They were making serious headway on the chips, and she reached for another. Chewed. Swallowed. Considered what it was about him that made her throw caution to the wind and say yes.

  He continued. “Look, I have an SLR that I play around with, usually when I’m out on a hike or climb, but there’s no way I can do what you do. I’ve tried. Since your degree will let you teach, can I pay you to give me some lessons? You could help me take the portraits of my sister. I should be able to afford that. Do you take family portraits?”

  “I take everything.”

  “So how much do you charge for that?”

  The waiter brought her another glass of wine, one she hadn’t ordered. She glanced at Joe. “Did you order this?”

  He nodded. “You looked like you needed it. So? How much?”

  The Riesling was ice cold and refreshing. “Well, there’s the sitting fee based on the amount of time and the number of pictures I take. I include the disk free as part of my services. You take it to Walgreens and print whatever pictures you want yourself. The machine will even let you pick the sizes.” After another sip of wine, she named some figures.

  He didn’t seem bothered by the costs, which were a fraction of the calendar shoot, so she relaxed. “That’s doable, so how about I hire you to photograph my family? My mother’s wanted all four generations in one big picture—not all of the grandchildren were at the last wedding and my grandparents are creeping up there. Since Mom’s birthday is the beginning of July, I’ll give her a family portrait sitting as a present. Will that work? I’ll have to run the idea by her, but I’m positive she’ll say yes.”

  She opened her mouth, but as if sensing she might answer him with a question, he kept going. “Besides, my mother knows everyone. If she loves your photos, she’ll drum up business for you all over the South Side. She’s a human tornado. No problem she can’t solve. So portraits and lessons. How can you say no?”

  “With me needing cash, you know I can’t.” She shifted, aware she’d had her leg pressed next to his for a long time. “Only a fool turns down paid jobs. So. I’ll give you a lesson and take your family portraits at the price I quoted.”

  He settled back in his chair. “Good. It’s settled then.”

  “I require fifty percent down.”

  That wicked grin returned, tugging at something deep inside her. “Not a problem. I’ll call her tomorrow. See how simple that was? I’ve never met a problem I can’t solve. It’s why I like firefighting. It’s man versus fire.”

  “I’m not a fire.”

  “No, but I’m hardwired to help. It’s my nature, and this is mutually beneficial. Just think of all the time we get to spend together.” He raised his beer glass, reached forward to tap it lightly against hers. “Cheers. I think this is a great plan.”

  She studied him over the rim. The wine had made her relaxed. Correction. Warm. Mellow. Slightly giddy. “We don’t have a plan.”

  “No?” He tilted his head. Wrinkled his nose.

  She shook her head. “No. We agreed, that’s all. An agreement is not a plan. Plans are outlines. Details. To-do lists. I’m a meticulous planner. Drives my mom nuts. She swears I can’t be her child since she’s such a free spirit.”

  He laughed. “So tell me how your plan works where I’m concerned.”

  Her brow creased. “Honestly, I don’t know. I haven’t figured it—you—out yet, or your real endgame.”

  “Well, I told you. My book. As for getting together so we can plan, I’m off for forty-eight more hours, so we’d have time to meet up.”

  “Must be nice.”

  “Not really, considering I only got about six hours sleep total over the forty-eight hours I was on shift. Dealt with a three-alarm fire and a bunch of EMS calls. Every time we finished one, we went out again. Also, I had report after report to complete. I have to get those done before I leave. In between all that is the daily work that must be done.”

  “Yeah, I guess that would be hectic. I overslept today. I’d planned on getting more photos Photoshopped, but now I’ll have to do them tomorrow.”

  “So your perfect plan went to hell.”

  She laughed. “As it so often does. Case in point, I’m here with you.”

  “Well, I’m glad you broke your plans.” He directed the full force of his charming smile at her, making her toes tingle.

  They polished off the last of their chips. He pointed at the empty basket. “Shall we order a pretzel? Or would you like something else?”

  A pretzel sounded wonderful, and she wasn’t ready to leave. Could she admit it? She was actually enjoying herself. “Let me call into work. Check on things first.”

  His eyes twinkled with mirth. “Good plan.”

  Taylor made the call, and John told her the place wasn’t yet crowded now that the diners had cleaned out. “Just be back in about an hour,” he told her.
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br />   Taylor hung up. Joe gazed expectantly. “Well?”

  “The pretzel will be fine. I’ve got another hour.” Especially since the bread would absorb the wine. Her face had heated with that wonderful wine numbness, meaning she definitely needed to sit longer before even thinking about driving. Besides, the evening and company had actually turned out better than expected. Joe wasn’t exactly the jerk she’d thought he was earlier. Sure, he had rough edges, but he was a charmer. An unabashed flirt. He couldn’t help himself, she decided. Like all the heroes in the escapist, delicious romance novels she loved, he just needed a good woman.

  She must have already imbibed too much wine, for the thought that she could be that woman flickered across that wine. Leo popped by, Joe ordered, and Taylor sought safer ground.

  “I can’t imagine growing up with five siblings,” she said, reaching for her water. Heck, she needed a long, sobering drink before she had him starring in tonight’s dreams as well.

  “The youngest is Elaina. She’s twenty-five.”

  “A year younger. Almost my age.”

  “You’d probably get along. We’re one big Italian family. You should see our get-togethers.”

  “Elaina’s not the one who was burned.” Taylor worked to keep everyone straight. She’d never been this much of a lightweight.

  Joe shook his head. “No, that’s Susie. She’s twenty-seven.”

  “How did it happen?”

  His face clouded, as if the memory took him back to a bad place. “A grass fire that got out of control.”

  “How old was she?” Taylor sipped more water. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry, but you were the one who bought me that second glass of wine. I get chatty when I drink. Bad, annoying habit.”

  “It’s okay. She was five. I was twelve. I couldn’t save her from getting hurt.” More of the dark ale he’d nursed all night passed his lips.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”

  “It’s okay.” He parroted. “Bad things happen to good people.”

  She thought of her father. Of Owen. Understood where Joe was coming from. A light breeze blew, and she reached up and removed her ponytail holder. Natural blonde curls cascaded around her shoulders, and she reached behind her neck and shook the strands to loosen them. Thankfully nothing had frizzed too badly. “So is your sister the real reason why you’re a firefighter?”

  “One of many,” he admitted. “It’s why this book is so important to me. Susie never felt beautiful. Growing up, people thought her freakish. All that burned skin. All those reconstructions, but it’s never perfect again. People recoil. You can literally see them do it.”

  While Taylor had grown up with other children wondering why her father had never attended any school events, Taylor couldn’t imagine what Susie had gone through. “I’m sorry.”

  “Then she met Parker and thank God he saw beyond the surface. They’ve been married for five years, and I’m godfather to their three-year-old daughter, Winnie. I’m grateful he came into her life. She deserves to be happy.”

  “Yes, she does. We all do.” Taylor recognized underlying guilt when she saw it. She’d had enough guilt herself over the last few years and could tell he had it in spades.

  “Can I be blunt?” she asked. “You were just a child.”

  “That doesn’t matter.” Joe’s fingers flexed hard against his glass.

  “Yes, it does. When I was seven, before I lost him, my father gave me some good advice. He said you help everyone you can, and as long as you tried, as long as you did your best, that’s what matters. It’s why I take the photos. Why I keep fighting even when I’m down.”

  “It’s not the same for me. You don’t understand.”

  Maybe she didn’t. She shook her head. “Perhaps not, and I shouldn’t presume to try. But I do know that whatever it is, you can’t blame yourself. So if you are, stop. There, my Dr. Phil for the day. Is he still even on?”

  “No idea.”

  She pushed her empty wineglass aside. Her face flamed. “Whew. Forgive me. That was probably extremely rude of me. I overstepped. Now I’m the cad. It’s an old-fashioned word, but I rather like it, you know?”

  The corner of Joe’s lips inched upward. “It’s okay.”

  She didn’t believe him. She’d sounded like a fool. “You keep saying that.”

  “It’s true. Remember? I don’t lie.”

  She relaxed. “This wine must have gone to my head. Whatever you do, don’t order me another one or I won’t be able to drive. At some point I have to get back to work.” The trees above rustled in the breeze. “Although I really don’t want to. It’s been a long time since I’ve sat out on a patio and drank wine. This is nice. Despite my bad manners.”

  His tempting hair swished with every shake of his head. “Don’t sell yourself short. It’s been refreshing, actually. Enlightening. Most women hide everything. Play games. You’re blunt. You don’t hold anything back. I like that. A lot.”

  She blushed again. He was good for her ego. “I wish other people did.”

  “Ah, now it’s your turn not to be so hard on yourself.”

  A car moved slowly down the street, temporarily diverting her attention. She watched until the taillights disappeared. Leo placed on their table a Bavarian pretzel that was the size of a small loaf of bread. She leaned forward and tore off a huge chunk, all the way to the first knot. She placed it on her plate, tore it into tinier pieces, and dipped a morsel into the fresh cup of rarebit.

  “I love this cheese,” she gushed, putting the entire warm, gooey bite into her mouth. She chewed slowly, savoring the softness of bread melting in her mouth. She’d almost forgotten how enjoyable it was to sit with a man and just talk and enjoy great conversation. “I’m glad we decided to stay.”

  “Good. Me too.”

  Taylor took another bite, knowing that her guard slipping where he was concerned had nothing to do with the wine. She had to be sure not to be like all her favorite heroines who suddenly became blind to the hero’s flaws. Hadn’t that been how she’d overlooked all the problems with Owen? She’d refused to see the truth until too late. Hadn’t she promised herself not to jump into fast forward with a guy ever again? Yet something about Joe made her want to toss caution to the wind.

  “So tell me about your family.” He held her gaze until she glanced away, her mind realizing that he’d gobsmacked her. He was already deep under her skin, a guy who probably didn’t like her except for her photography skills. She had to stay focused, not think about marrying the man five minutes after meeting him. “I told you about mine,” he cajoled.

  He had, and no question to lob back came to mind. “It’s just me, Evelyn, and my mom. My dad died when I was eight. Navy test pilot.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. You told me about your sister. I have memories, like that advice I gave you, but as I’ve gotten older, I admit they’ve faded. I have to see pictures to really remember.”

  She toyed with the empty wineglass stem. The fact she’d had two glasses had to be the reason she was telling him all this, right? “But he died doing what he loved. There’s something in that, I guess.”

  “Your mom never remarried?”

  “She never will. She says one great love was enough and she’s in a good place. She works at a perennial nursery and designs landscapes. She volunteers at the symphony. She’s always busy. Evelyn and I would love it if she found someone, but she’s not even interested in looking.”

  “What about you? Do you believe in that one great love?”

  She couldn’t help herself. “Do you?”

  “Ah, the questions return. … For a moment you were doing so well.”

  The wry grin returned as he shook his head in mock disbelief. Her fingers again itched to feel his hair. Wanted to see it cascade over him as he lowered himself over her. She waited while he tore off some remaining pretzel.

  “Fine. I’ll indulge you,” Joe said. “Yes, I do believe in it. My pa
rents are great role models. So, yes, I do eventually want something like that. But as you complained about earlier, I’m nonstop busy. I never get around to calling anyone, and I’m not a nine-to-five guy, so it’s hard to sustain a relationship. Things are always complicated.” She noticed a hitch in the way he said those last three words.

  “Complicated is my middle name,” Taylor admitted. “And I could see how your schedule gets in the way. But you do get time off.”

  “Which I use to rock climb, box, to try to keep my house clean and train for marathons.”

  Her eyes widened. “Really? You box?”

  His lips twitched. “Most people are impressed with the marathons.”

  “Tell me more about boxing. I’m looking for a project.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m struggling to find an applied project for my master’s degree. It’s like a thesis, but instead of doing a written paper, I’m trying to come up with a photography project that has impact, that makes a difference. I need something my professor will agree with, and maybe, just maybe, will allow me to enter into the competition.”

  “Is money involved?”

  “If I win, and I can’t even enter unless my professor recommends me. Right now, I just want to get this degree done.”

  He again intertwined his legs between hers as he stretched out. “Well, perhaps you could do the Guns ’N Hoses competition. That’s in November. I’m five and oh. I helped the firefighters claim victory last year.”

  “I can’t wait until November. It has to done by the end of July. And what is guns and whatever?”

  “Hoses. It’s the police versus firefighters boxing match. All proceeds go to charity. The Backstoppers.”

  “Sorry, it’s clearly very important to you, but I have no idea.” She brightened. “I’ll Google both of those.”

  “Do. The event is huge. Over seventeen thousand people attended.”

  “And you run too.”

  “Yes.”

  Which explained why he was so fit, other than staying in shape for work. The pink shirt showcased bulging biceps and hard pecs. He’d been pure temptation all night. “I’m not really into sports other than baseball or hockey,” she admitted. “I can’t afford to go much, but I’m what you call a see-it-for-free-on-TV fan. Presley’s always carries the games.”