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you.”
    The big-bellied guy spoke up. “The girls don’t do that so much now that Ryan’s gone.” He added under his breath, “More’s the pity.”
    Roman drilled him with a long stare, which had the result of making more words flow from the rattled fireman’s mouth.
    “That’s Ryan Blake, Hoagie to us. You probably read about his wedding. They had it on the news. Marzipan cake with butter cream frosting. Him and Katie are on their honeymoon right now. Camping in Mexico—”
    He closed his mouth abruptly as Roman stalked over to him. “Have you read the Rules and Regs, Section D, subsection 24 lately?”
    The man’s eyes scuttled from side to side, as if searching for a manual. Roman didn’t enjoy making people uncomfortable, but the issue was an important one.
    “Firefighter Breen, you know the regs, right? Remind Firefighter Lee of this section.”
    Stud looked as though he’d rather throw himself into a tar pit. But under Roman’s relentless gaze, he mumbled, “Firefighters shall maintain a level of fitness suitable for performance of their duties. Regular testing of such shall be administered at random intervals determined by the station commander.”
    “Random intervals,” Roman repeated. “Could be today. Could be tomorrow. Are you ready, Firefighter Lee?”
    A wave of red slowly crept up the man’s face. Roman took a step back; he’d made his point. He addressed the entire group. “After lineup, we’ll do some drills. Over the next few weeks, I want to see how each of you performs basic fire ground operations—hose lays, ladders, search and rescue, ventilations, rapid intervention, forceful entry. I want to be impressed. I expect to be impressed. Station 1 is a top-performing fire station, despite the tabloid crap.”
    Finally, some pride lightened the tight faces of his new crew.
    “I will require you to act like it in every respect. Dismissed.”
    An audible sigh of relief swept across the line of men and one woman. Jones’s glittering turquoise eyes were fixed on him with a look close to hatred. How dare she? He was the injured party, not her. A torn ticket with the word “sorry” on it? It still lurked in his wallet, a deliberate reminder to avoid all beautiful, deceitful strangers.
    “Firefighter Jones, in my office,” he barked at the end of lineup, as the other firefighters all rushed to the workout room.
    A quiver of alarm passed over her face, instantly hidden behind a defiant mask. He spun on his heel and stalked toward the office they’d assigned to him. It used to be the captain’s office until they switched things around for the incoming battalion chief. He held the door until she’d ducked under his arm, then closed it behind them.
    He sniffed. Funny smell in this office. He’d been too preoccupied with preparing himself to put the fear of God into the crew to notice before now.
    Never mind. He had more important things to think about. Unfortunately, under Sabina’s angry stare, all rational thoughts scattered. She folded her arms over her chest, which made him remember every detail of her pale pink nipples and supple, sun-kissed skin with its dusting of freckles, the way her lovely breasts swelled so proudly on her graceful torso, the sounds she made when he skimmed his hand over her waist . . .
    “You should have told me,” he said.
    “No, you should have told me .”
    Standoff.
    Her cell phone rang. She didn’t look at it, keeping her eyes on his until it stopped. Each ring increased his irritation, until his next words burst out without conscious permission from him.
    “You blew me off by way of a ticket ?”
    “It was all I had. I didn’t even have a receipt. I thought it was better than nothing, Rock .”
    At her tone, which implied he was a liar, his temperature rose another degree. “For your information, the guys at my old station called me Rock.”
    “You mean the ones you didn’t humiliate in front of the whole crew?”
    There went his