Excerpt from A Heated Romance
Monday morning after breakfast, Marcie O'Dwyer busily swept the kitchen floor.
She looked up to see a dark-haired, handsome, incredibly built guy with broad
shoulders walking toward her. His well-muscled body moved with easy grace.
Before she could say a thing, he said, "Hot damn! This is some sweet deal I got myself into."
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"We'll discuss that later. I can't believe they've hired a woman to clean for the house."
She looked at him as if he were crazy. "Who did you say you are?"
"I didn't. You're pretty damn nosy for a cleaning woman."
"I'm not the cleaning woman! I'm a firefighter, bud."
"You?" He chuckled. "You're putting me on, right?"
She shook her head, blood pounding in her ears. Leaning on the broom handle, she glared directly into his green eyes. "Damn serious!" she squeezed out between clenched teeth.
"A female doesn't belong in a firehouse. She belongs in a house surrounded by a white picket fence with a bunch of kids to take care of." His reply knocked the heated banter squarely back into her court.
Marcie gripped the broom handle so tightly her knuckles turned white. She had a mind to whack the guy right over his thick skull with it.
"O'Dwyer, I see you and Smith have met." Assistant Chief Lenny Wiebolt walked into the kitchen. "He's the new transfer from downtown, replacing Logan."
Wiebolt was tall, with thinning sandy-blond hair. He was a fair guy who treated everyone equally no matter their gender. This fact alone endeared him to Marcie.
"He's a real charmer," she spat through clenched teeth, glowering at Smith before putting the broom away. "If you'll both excuse me, I have things to do." She suddenly felt the need for fresh air and walked outside.
A small, innocuous pebble lay on the concrete apron in front of the firehouse, and she gave it a swift kick. Mentally, she replayed the scene with Smith and fumed all over again. This guy was something else. To look at him, she saw every woman's hottest fantasy-a near perfect male specimen. However, all that was just icing. Too bad the cake beneath was rotten. She'd had her fill of male chauvinists. In her opinion, macho firemen were the worst. Even her dad had been one.
Marcie hated having to prove herself every time a new fireman joined the squad. Needless to say, as the only female firefighter in town-and a damn good firefighter at that-the onus fell on her. But she was fed up with being forced to go through the drill. If some ego-inflated Neanderthal couldn't deal with it, well that was his problem, not hers. This time she swore would be the last. She was damn tired of having to justify her worthiness.
Before she could say a thing, he said, "Hot damn! This is some sweet deal I got myself into."
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"We'll discuss that later. I can't believe they've hired a woman to clean for the house."
She looked at him as if he were crazy. "Who did you say you are?"
"I didn't. You're pretty damn nosy for a cleaning woman."
"I'm not the cleaning woman! I'm a firefighter, bud."
"You?" He chuckled. "You're putting me on, right?"
She shook her head, blood pounding in her ears. Leaning on the broom handle, she glared directly into his green eyes. "Damn serious!" she squeezed out between clenched teeth.
"A female doesn't belong in a firehouse. She belongs in a house surrounded by a white picket fence with a bunch of kids to take care of." His reply knocked the heated banter squarely back into her court.
Marcie gripped the broom handle so tightly her knuckles turned white. She had a mind to whack the guy right over his thick skull with it.
"O'Dwyer, I see you and Smith have met." Assistant Chief Lenny Wiebolt walked into the kitchen. "He's the new transfer from downtown, replacing Logan."
Wiebolt was tall, with thinning sandy-blond hair. He was a fair guy who treated everyone equally no matter their gender. This fact alone endeared him to Marcie.
"He's a real charmer," she spat through clenched teeth, glowering at Smith before putting the broom away. "If you'll both excuse me, I have things to do." She suddenly felt the need for fresh air and walked outside.
A small, innocuous pebble lay on the concrete apron in front of the firehouse, and she gave it a swift kick. Mentally, she replayed the scene with Smith and fumed all over again. This guy was something else. To look at him, she saw every woman's hottest fantasy-a near perfect male specimen. However, all that was just icing. Too bad the cake beneath was rotten. She'd had her fill of male chauvinists. In her opinion, macho firemen were the worst. Even her dad had been one.
Marcie hated having to prove herself every time a new fireman joined the squad. Needless to say, as the only female firefighter in town-and a damn good firefighter at that-the onus fell on her. But she was fed up with being forced to go through the drill. If some ego-inflated Neanderthal couldn't deal with it, well that was his problem, not hers. This time she swore would be the last. She was damn tired of having to justify her worthiness.