Hard to Resist - By Kara Lennox Page 0,15

starting to feel like a voyeur. His heart pounded every time he thought about that kiss. He was frustrated beyond measure that he couldn’t go over there now.

Earlier, Tony had said something about a darts tournament at Brady’s. He decided to head over and see what was going on. It had to be better than sitting around here, feeling antsy.

Brady’s Tavern had been across the street from Fire Station 59 for as long as anyone could remember. It had withstood Prohibition, the Great Depression and Oak Cliff’s ever-changing liquor laws.

During all those years, Brady’s had been the place for Oak Cliff cops and firefighters to hang out after hours. The two groups were often at odds, but for some reason at Brady’s they all got along. The cops talked about their cases while shooting darts; the firefighters talked about great fires from their fathers’ era while they played shuffleboard.

Ethan wasn’t much of a barfly, but Captain Campeon had not-so-subtly indicated that a little off-shift camaraderie at Brady’s might help the rookies bond with their more seasoned brethren.

The place was hopping this Saturday night. A few heads turned to look as Ethan entered, but no one greeted him. He wasn’t a regular, not yet, and only a few of the faces were vaguely familiar.

Then he saw Bing Tate. He waved a greeting, but Bing pointedly turned away as if he hadn’t seen.

Well, he wasn’t going to let Tate ruin his mood. He’d kissed Kat Holiday, and nothing was going to detract from that.

Finally, he spotted Priscilla, sitting at a high table by herself. She was watching the shuffleboard table, as if it were the final round of the world championships.

Ethan crossed the sticky plank floor to join her. “What’s up?”

She jumped, startled—obviously having missed his arrival. “Oh, hi. Nothing. Tony and I both got eliminated from darts during the first round.” Her gaze drifted back toward the shuffleboard game. “I nearly hit one of the spectators with my first throw. Tony went home already. What are you doing here? I thought you’d be with Kat.”

“The pizza thing didn’t work out. Is the shuffleboard that interesting?” He only recognized one of the players. His name was Roark Epperson, and he was an instructor at the fire school. He was also one of the top arson investigators in the country and the lead on investigating the warehouse fire that had killed three of their own.

Priscilla’s head snapped back. “No, but due to a distinct lack of anything else interesting going on, shuffleboard won my attention.”

“So Captain Campeon’s plan to build camaraderie isn’t exactly working, huh?”

Before she could answer, an obviously inebriated man sidled up to the table. “Hey, babe, wanna rematch? Jus’ you and me?” He leered at her. “Dartboard’s free.”

“Um, no, thanks.”

“Well, then, be that way, Ice Princess.” He turned and staggered away.

Otis Granger, who happened to be on his way to the bar, overheard the last comment. “Prissy, did he just call you Ice Princess?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

Otis laughed. “I like it. Ice Princess.” And he laughed the rest of the way to the bar.

Ethan couldn’t help but like Otis. He was cheerful and had an easy laugh, and he’d been one of the first to start to thaw toward the rookies. But he did enjoy tormenting Priscilla.

Priscilla sighed. “If this is camaraderie, I can live without it.”

* * *

THE DIRTIEST JOB at Fire Station 59 was cleaning the bathroom. Once again, Ethan had drawn the short stick, but he accepted the chore stoically, as he did whatever task he was given. Such was the lot of a rookie.

Tony was off the hook for chores today, since he had to study for a test in order to keep his paramedic certification current, but Priscilla hadn’t fared much better than Ethan. She had to mop the floors. She wielded the mop as if it were the handle of a butter churn. Sometimes he had a hard time believing anyone could be as ignorant of housekeeping skills as Priscilla was. But it wasn’t something she’d had much practice with. She’d grown up in a Highland Park mansion, with multiple servants, and though she tried to shake off her upper-crust background, sometimes it showed.

“Those ladies on the TV commercials always make mopping look so easy,” Priscilla grumbled, as she bounced her mop across the gray bathroom tiles.

Ethan agreed. Likewise, mildew did not disappear with one swipe of the sponge. He had to put a brush and some muscle into it.

“Visitors on the premises!” someone