Hot As Sin

16

With sirens screaming and lights blazing, three ladder trucks charge toward the house. Braking hard, one of them clips the stone fountain in the middle of the circular driveway, reducing it to rubble. Another one mows over a low hedge of manicured shrubs and parks on top of the grass. The third, obviously manned by someone with respect for private property, parks properly along the curb. Then a bunch of guys in yellow Kevlar suits trot up to get the 411.

“Backyard,” I tell the one who seems to be in charge. He’s a head taller than the rest, barrel chested and eagle eyed, and has that air of leadership. “Got a two-hundred-foot tension tent on fire. Looks like everyone’s clear, though.”

“Any injuries?”

“Not that I’ve seen.”

He gives his crew curt instructions. They scatter, some back to the trucks, some headed through the living room to the backyard, clomping loudly in their big black boots and shouldering through the crowd.

Kat runs up and grabs my arm. Her eyes are huge, her face is white, and she’s trembling.

“Where’s Nico?”

“In the backyard.” When she turns in that direction, I wrap my hand around her biceps and pull her gently back. “No way. Out the front door you go. Wait in the yard until he comes out.”

Appearing to grow several inches taller, she looks me dead in the eye. “You think something silly like a fire—or a stubborn bodyguard—is going to keep me away from him?”

I smile at her tenacity. “Not just you you’re thinking about anymore, mama,” I say softly.

When she purses her lips, I give her a gentle push toward the door. “Go on. You know I’d never let anything happen to him.”

She debates it for a second, then gives in. But not before threatening me.

“If he has so much as a scratch on him, it’s your butt I’ll be kicking, Barney.”

I chuckle. “Copy that. Go.”

Before she can move, however, Chloe and A.J. appear with the baby, who’s crying in A.J.’s arms. A.J. says, “What the hell’s going on? It’s like World War III down here!”

“Fire in the backyard. I’ll tell you all about it later, but for right now, you guys should get out front. Take Kat with you.”

Without hesitating, A.J. hands the baby to Chloe, takes her arm and Kat’s, then marches them all out the front door. As they disappear around a corner, I hear Kat say, “Uh, A.J.? What the f**k?”

Obviously she noticed he wasn’t having much trouble navigating the way.

A pair of firefighters jog past, dragging a big hose behind them. I hear the distinct whirr of helicopter wings, and run outside in time to see the bird pass over the house. From the markings on the side, I know it’s not the police or a news crew. It’s privately owned, which tells me all I need to know.

It’s the paparazzi.

Because of course it would be.

Then a hundred-foot geyser of water arcs over the roof, shot from one of the trucks in the driveway. It’s aimed well, falling directly onto the burning tent. Huge columns of steam billow into the night sky as the hissing flames are extinguished. The firefighters who dragged the hose through the house take aim, too, and hit the tent with a stream of water from the side.

I watch for a moment, until Nico trots up. Inexplicably, he’s smiling.

“What’s so funny?”

He stands next to me, turns to look at the steaming disaster area that was recently a rave tent, and shakes his head. “Guess the universe was listenin’ when I told Kat we needed to throw you a party that would burn down the house.”

The helicopter makes another pass overhead, shining a jittery circle of bright white light into the yard. With an echoing crash, the tall metal tent poles collapse under the heavy onslaught of water. A big chunk of blackened material from the burnt tent flies out of the sky and splashes into the pool, causing Kenji to once again begin screaming.

Then Celine, Miss Small Town Popularity, sashays up with a glass of whiskey in her hand.

“There you are,” she says brightly, holding the glass out to me. Her voice drops. Her smile holds an unmistakable invitation. “I’ve got something for you.”

Nico and I glance at each other.

At the same time, we burst into laughter.

6

T he first thing I do after polishing off the whiskey and politely saying goodbye to the alluring-but-much-too-young-for-me Celine is fish Kenji from the pool.

That’s easier said than done.

He’s hysterical, for one thing. For another, he’s naked. And—as previously noted—hairless. And therefore slippery as f**k.

“Stop squirming. I’ll drop you.”

That gets him to be quiet for approximately two seconds, then he commences sobbing and wailing again, shivering violently in my arms as if I’ve rescued him from the Arctic Ocean in the middle of winter and not a heated swimming pool on a hot summer night.

I’m in chlorinated water up to my waist, carrying him toward the steps. London’s waiting there with a black-and-white striped pool towel she snatched from a nearby row of lounge chairs. She’s got another one around herself. She’s more composed than Kenji is, but that’s not exactly difficult.