Playing With Fire by Cathy McDavid

What would they think?
    They'd think she was weak. They'd think she didn't have what it took to be a firefighter.
    No. She couldn't let that happen.
    Another sob and then a hiccup. She had to act fast. The chair nearly toppled when she jumped up. Righting it, she bolted from the kitchen, down the hall, and through the door to the apparatus room. Where now? She needed a hiding place, preferably soundproof. The weight room was out of the question. So was the supply closet. That left the equipment room.
    Tears obscured her vision as she stumbled around the rear of the engine. Ducking inside the equipment room, she shut the door. It latched into place with a reassuring click. She was completely—and finally—alone.
    Pale moonlight filtered in through a small window, enough so Lindsay could see to maneuver. Making a place for herself on the bench, she sat, dropped her head, and did something completely out of character. She cried her heart out.
    Time passed. How much, she didn't know. Maybe three minutes, maybe thirty. Without warning, the door opened with a soft swish. Lindsay's head snapped up. A man stood framed in the doorway, his features hidden in shadow. Nonetheless, she recognized him and averted her head so he wouldn't see her tear-stained face. She need not have bothered.
* * * *
    For reasons that defied logic, Matt entered the equipment room and closed the door behind him. Common sense dictated he leave Lindsay alone. Besides the inappropriateness of their being alone together, she obviously didn't want company. Especially his company. Any progress they'd made toward a reconciliation had been wiped clean with one email from Fire Administration.
    His first response had been to decline the promotion. He didn't want it, or so he thought, and Lindsay did. But something inside him changed during the course of the day. The congratulatory back slappings and phone calls had felt good. Emotions he hadn't anticipated surfaced: pride and satisfaction foremost among them. He came to realize a part of himself, a larger part than he'd originally suspected, wanted the promotion. Lindsay would still make engineer. Her scores stood for two years and in that time, another position was bound to open up.
    He took a step toward her, ignoring the warning bells clanging inside his head. When it came to taking risks, Matt didn't know where to draw the line. He lived on the edge and liked it. If he and Lindsay were caught, and they probably would be, he'd have some interesting explaining to do.
    That didn't stop him from advancing another step. “Are you okay?” He spoke in a whisper.
    She hunkered down lower and massaged her temples. “I'm fine.” Her voice cracked. “Leave me alone."
    "Are you crying?"
    "No."
    "Yes, you are,” he said in disbelief. He'd never seen Lindsay cry. She kept her calm even during the most horrific disasters.
    "What's wrong?"
    "Nothing.” She sniffed. “So what do you want?"
    "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by."
    Acting on his impulses, he took a seat beside her, after first moving a metal supply box out of the way. Usually he'd run at the first sign of tears, but he didn't feel that way with Lindsay. Quite the opposite. Instead, he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her until her crying subsided.
    She instantly stiffened and turned blazing green eyes on him. “You have no right to be here."
    "None whatsoever.” Before she could react, he grabbed hold of her and lifted her onto his lap. True to form, she rebelled.
    "Let me go!” she hissed, kicking out with her feet and shoving her hands into his chest.
    "Quiet. Do you want someone to hear us?” He'd meant to comfort her, but all her squirming was having an adverse effect on him. On her, too. With each movement, her erect nipple brushed against the front of his tee-shirt.
    "I don't care."
    "Of course, you do.” He captured her wrists in one hand. With the other, he supported her back. “You're a slave to protocol."
    "And that's