The Men of CLE-FD updated Page 4

  Orlando laughed. “I ain’t saying that. However, being symbolized as American heroes sucks. I think people in our position are hard to love.”

  Anthony popped peanuts in his mouth. “It is hard to love us because of what we do and what see. We carry a lot of burdens on our shoulders, Orlando, but we can be loved and we are capable of returning that love. We have to learn to separate the emotions from the job with those of our personal lives.”

  Orlando didn’t respond but sat quietly listening to Anthony. For the most part Anthony was the fun guy of the group with his kid-like nature. He made it easy for people to get along with him and the kids they mentored at the community center adored him. But during emergencies, that kidding took a back seat. He was a true firefighter and never hesitated when it came to risking his life to save one of his brothers or a victim. He also was good at giving sound advice.

  “Okay,” Anthony said. “I’m not gonna twist your arm to be with Regan. I have other friends coming to the party tonight that she might find interesting.”

  Orlando raised his eyebrow. “Damn, are you shopping her around like a piece of merchandise?”

  “When you say it that way, it sounds bad but I’m doing what my girl asked me to do. She wants her sister to be with a good man. Naturally, I thought of you but you aren’t ready to move on. But I saw how you looked at her. You aren’t completely turned off to the idea of being with women again.”

  Orlando tipped the bottle to his lips realizing it was empty. He silenced his reply when a man approached the table greeting Anthony. He scanned over the man he guessed was another prospect Anthony had lined up for Regan. He was tall and thin with light skin and wore a pencil gray suit that reminded him of Pee Wee Herman.

  What was Anthony thinking? He grunted watching the man engage in conversation with Anthony. His body language irritated him. The excitement in his voice showed he was eager to meet the beautiful Regan. He shuddered. Regan was the first woman to spark a trace of interest since his divorce and he was too stubborn to take action.

  He shook his head. You’re dreaming if you THINK you got a chance in hell with her. He thought in his head. The man had forty-year-old virgin living with his mother, written all over him.

  He heard Anthony again snap his fingers to get his attention. “Orlando, this is Sherman Wells. He is a long-time friend of mine.”

  Orlando coughed to choke the laugh waiting to burst from his mouth. He was amazed he’d hit the bulls-eye precisely. Clearing his throat, he offered a friendly handshake. “What’s up Sherman?”

  The handshake was limp and feminine as was his voice. “Hello, Orlando. Nice to meet you,” he said sitting down.

  Orlando shifted his dark eyes in Anthony’s direction. “So you two go way back? I’m interested to know how you two became friends.”

  Sherman readily told the story before Anthony could open his mouth. “We grew up in the same neighborhood. My mother and his mother are good friends.”

  “Oh, I see—childhood friends. That’s cool. We work together at the firehouse,” Orlando said. He stopped a waitress passing between the tables. “Sweetheart, can I get a Heineken and whatever my friends are having; I’m buying this round.”

  Anthony ordered a Jack and Coke and Sherman ordered a cranberry juice cocktail. As the waitress walked away, the women appeared at the far end of the club walking towards them. They stood as Regan and Lincoln reached the table.

  “Hey, baby,” Anthony, said holding out a chair for Lincoln. “This is Sherman Wells. I told you about him.”

  Lincoln’s facial expression emulated that of her sister’s. “Oh-oh, this is Sherman? Right, you have been talking about him,” she said forcing a smile.

  “Yeah,” Anthony said weakly. “I told you he was unique.”

  Lincoln sat down giving her sister an apologetic eye. “You were right on point. Regan, this is the first I’ve met Sherman. Say hi to Sherman.”

  Regan accepted the chair Sherman graciously offered next to him. Smiling she said, “Hello, Sherman. I’m so happy you could make it tonight.”

  Sherman blushed. “I would not have missed this for the world. Anthony said you were beautiful, but I must emphasize the beauty of your eyes. They resemble precious dark stones like black diamonds or cassiterite.”

  Orlando rolled his eyes. Seriously, he compared her eyes to cassiterite. He looked at Regan’s face; she may have known what that was but the others at the table had no clue what Sherman was talking about. He listened as they started talking over each other and above the music.

  He watched Anthony shift his eyes nervously back and forth between Regan and Sherman and then him. Anthony was terrible at playing matchmaker but using the nerd to impress Regan in an attempt to raise his blood pressure was brilliant. It worked and he had to get away before he said or did something stupid.

  Scooting his chair away from the table, he unfolded all six-feet, three-inches of himself and said, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going up front to check out the action.”

  He didn’t expect Regan’s hand to clamp around his wrist to prevent him from leaving. She had only done that once and she probably wasn’t aware it was even him. Her eyes captured his, drawing a pounding to his chest.

  “Please, don’t leave. We haven’t had a chance to talk, and I do believe I owe you a debt of thanks for something you did for me about a year ago,” she said parting her lips exposing a dramatic set of perfect white teeth.

  Damn, she did remember or either Lincoln brought it to her attention while they were away. “Sure,” Orlando said sitting down slowly. How could he resist the charm of a beautiful woman asking a favor? “It didn’t occur to me we'd met before until Anthony jogged my memory.”

  Regan scooted her chair away from Sherman and closer to him. “Lieutenant Orlando Torres, the kind and gentle firefighter who stayed with me through that terrible ordeal. I don’t know how I could have forgotten.”

  “You weren’t fully aware on what was going on that day.”

  “I know and I am so glad I get the chance to thank you for saving my life. I don’t have enough words to express my gratitude.”

  “You don’t have to thank me for doing my job and anytime I rescue someone alive, I sleep better at night. Anyhow, I’m glad you weren’t seriously hurt,” Orlando said forgetting there were other people at the table.

  He could no longer hear the music or the loud clatter filling the club. All he heard was Regan’s soft voice drifting through his ears. Then an unpleasant scratching noise soured the moment.

  “Firefighting is an honorable field but psychologically challenging. The percentages of suffering a mental breakdown from doing such a stressful job is ranked up there with men in the military, policemen and other dangerous occupations,” Sherman said, honing in on the discussion that did not involve him.

  With his concentration broken on Regan, Orlando rubbed his chin with his forefinger. “What do you do, Sherman?”

  “I’m a neurobiologist,” he replied lifting his eyebrow with the anticipation everyone would be impressed.

  “So that would make you Sherman Wells, Ph.D. and I’m probably sure you have other letters following your name,” Orlando said with a slight grin.

  “Yes, in fact I do. I graduated from Stanford University School of Medicine magna cum laude. I’m a few months away from getting my third Master’s degree in psychology.”

  Regan gave a quirky look to her sister. “Did you hear that, Lincoln? Dr. Wells is a very smart scientist that researches the brain and soon human emotions. Isn’t that an interesting topic to explore at a birthday party?”

  Lincoln nodded. “Yeah, I heard him. We should thank Anthony for inviting Sherman. The night is young and I’m sure his stimulating conversation about his work and studies will get more interesting since we are in a place where there is plenty of alcohol flowing.”

  Sherman said, “Ladies, I will answer any questions you have regarding neurobiology.”

  Orlando wanted to l
augh as Sherman took Lincoln’s sarcasm the wrong way, but he didn’t. He just sat quietly looking for a way to plot an escape.

  Regan didn’t return the mocking her sister was doing and raised the straw in her glass to her lips, slipping it inside her mouth. Orlando’s vision followed watching her tongue flicker across the tip of the straw wishing he were the recipient of her tongue slipping and sliding inside his mouth.

  God what is the matter with me turning her away for any reason. He looked away as she released the straw from her mouth and turned her attention to Sherman who had taken hold of her hand.

  The man was unaware he was being mocked and continued to lay seed with Regan. Then his voice lowered an octave to sound like a man. “I have to ask Regan this question while I have the nerve. Regan, I would love to give you a tour of my lab. If you are available next week, I could give you a full tour then take you to lunch.”

  Orlando stirred in his chair and pushed the irritating groan threatening to escape down his throat. He didn’t like how he was holding Regan’s hand or letting his big smart eyes dart around her. He was annoyed the jerk interrupted their private conversation to upstage him with his own success.

  Orlando jumped from the kick he got under the table. He shot a look in Anthony’s direction wondering why he’d kicked him. “Anthony, why the hell are you kicking me?” He wished he could take it back, but it was too late; they had all heard him say it.

  Anthony frowned. “Yo, Orlando, let me holler at you for a minute at the bar.”

  They excused themselves from the table and walked to the bar. Orlando crossed his thick arms across his chest. “Why did you kick me? What’s the problem?”

  “You are the problem. You should have seen the look on your face, Orlando.”

  “What look? I was listening to him brag about being a freaking scientist.”

  “You were listening but your face read you were ready to kill him if he blinked wrong.”

  Orlando threw up his hands. “Why did you ask him to come? The guy has a bedtime of nine o’clock and you’re making him miss his curfew.”

  “Damn, if that ain’t jealousy talking, then I am stupid. I thought you weren’t interested.”

  “I’m not. But no woman should be bored to hell in order for you to make a point. And, since I’m away from the table, I’m going up front to enjoy the music and maybe dance a little more. I might not be taking a woman home with me tonight, but ain’t nothing stopping me from dancing with them.”

  “So you’re gonna leave me hangin’?”

  “Hey, you created the mess now stew in it. Maybe while y’all are talking science stuff, he will get around to explaining what cassiterite is,” he chuckled, patting Anthony on the shoulder.

  “Yeah, what the hell is that? Wait, Orlando, seriously, you can’t just leave me like this, bro. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  Orlando tossed up the peace sign as he walked away. “Farewell and peace out, my brotha.”

  *****

  Regan rolled her eyes on the verge of tears due to boredom. Sherman was a nice guy but not the kind of man she would date. Their interests were too far apart and there was definitely no chemistry between them. Even with a journalism degree under her belt, the vocabulary he used, which was normal for him, she didn’t understand. She would need a dictionary to carry on a simple conversation with him.

  As the waitress returned to pass the drinks around the table, she noticed Orlando had not returned with Anthony. And Anthony provided no explanation for Orlando’s sudden disappearance. Twice she had looked over her shoulder in less than a minute hoping his tall frame would appear and both times, he had not.

  Regan desired to go look for him but needed Lincoln to make a distraction. Unfortunately, Lincoln was sitting across the table and could not get her attention without Sherman realizing she was escaping. The man was extremely intelligent but as interesting as burnt toast. He went on and on about scientific theories and other jargon related to his field of expertise that went over their heads.

  Regan’s mind drifted to the cold beer on the table sweating atop the napkin. She couldn’t take it anymore and asked. “Um, does anyone know what happened to Orlando?”

  Anthony tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Yeah, he went up front for a minute.”

  Regan stood up taking the beer with her. “Well, I should mingle with my other family and friends. I’ve been sitting back here too long and ignoring my other guests. If I bump into Orlando, I will give him the beer. Oh, Lincoln, you should come too. Aunt Mary was asking about you earlier.”

  Lincoln jumped from her chair quickly. “Yes, Aunt Mary—I have got to talk to her about that thing we were going to do next week. You got this right, babe?” She asked Anthony.

  Anthony shrugged his shoulders. “Cool, see, you in a bit,” she said slapping a kiss on the top of the head before he could protest.

  Regan slipped her arm through Lincoln’s as they scurried to the front of the club. “What the hell was Anthony thinking?” Regan asked her sister.

  “Girl, I don’t know but I will have a stern talk with him when we get home for sure.”

  “I don’t mean to sound cruel but where would Anthony meet a guy like that? Anthony doesn’t strike me as the geeky kind.”

  “He’s not. Sherman is one of his special friends,” she said giggling. “Look, isn’t that Orlando going out the door?”

  Regan narrowed her eyes forcing on the tall form exiting the building. “Yes. I’ll be right back. I don’t know what it is about that man, but HE is a person I want to get to know.”

  “Go handle your business,” Lincoln said giving her a playful shove towards the door.

  Regan switched the beer bottle from hand to hand, as she smoothed the sides of her dress down before exiting the club. No man had summoned her curiosity in the year she’d been divorced. Orlando Torres had awakened dormant urges with those sexy brown eyes, the faint stubble covering his jawline, and his fancy footwork.

  She exited the building. The air was warm and stuffy outside. Partying people snaked out of the crowded quarter-block long upscale club located on the outskirts of downtown Cleveland to linger before disbursing. It was normal procedure at this hour, as the club would be closing soon. The colorful trash talk among the men and the women prancing to get the attention of any half-sober man to look their way were harmless and done in fun.

  Regan took a minute to thank the people she knew for coming to her party. She kept her chat brief in order to search for Orlando before he was gone. This would be her only shot to get the sexy firefighter to herself with no interruptions. She crossed her fingers hoping she would find him alone and not cuddled up with a woman he’d met inside the club. After all, she only saw the back of him exiting the club. The woman could have gone out the door before him.

  She exhaled a sigh of relief when she saw him standing with one foot planted against the brick wall smoking alone. She turned her lip. He allowed nasty cigarettes to invade his perfect body. Her sweaty palm warmed the cold glass beer bottle as she watched him from a safe distance. She had felt how toned his body was when they were dancing. His chest was hard, his hips narrow and tapered when he pulled her body close to his to dip her. Her knees knocked at the thought.

  The black jeans melted to his body and the black t-shirt that hugged every muscle of his torso did not hide anything from a woman’s imagination. Orlando Torres built like a brick, had a sarcastic edge, and was exactly what she wanted in the next man she pursued.

  Regan felt her heart flutter when he bent his arm to take another puff. The muscles of his arm strained against the cotton fabric of the t-shirt. Mark was in good shape but not firefighter shape. She crossed her legs to stop the pulsating. The image running through her head of what he could do with those arms and sexy lips caused her to dampen a tad. She would be willing to overlook the smoking habit to have a chance with him.

  Suddenly his head lifted in her direction. She didn’t have enough time to pretend she w
asn’t staring at him. Busted, she smiled and used wobbly legs to walk over to him. “There you are?”

  Orlando straightened his body. “Yeah, here I am,” he said getting rid of the cigarette.

  Regan handed over the beer. “Here’s your beer. You left just as the waitress dropped it off.”

  “Thanks. You didn’t have to track me down to bring it to me. You drink it—my birthday drink, to you.”

  She shivered as his piercing dark eyes perused her body. If she weren’t aware the dress didn’t have zippers or buttons, she would have thought she was exposing parts of her body to the public. “I would take it but I’m not much of a beer drinker.”

  “Yeah, it is an acquired taste.” He took the beer from her hand and balanced it on the side of the cement flower planter.

  Regan dried her hand on the already wet napkin. Could this be any more awkward? Fourteen years with one man has zapped my mojo. “Lieutenant, I want to thank you for saving my life again. Sherman kinda interrupted that for me. I was lucky I only suffered a broken rib and a slight concussion, as a result of the car accident.”

  He smiled shoving his hands in the pockets of his tight jeans. “Thank you for the adulation but what’s with the lieutenant stuff? I’m Orlando.”

  “Right, Orlando. I’m a little new at this, so excuse me if I seem nervous.”

  “Are you the shy and timid type?”

  Regan lifted a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Would that be hard to believe?”

  “Hell yeah. The way you carry yourself and look, you probably have to fight men off in droves.”

  “For your information, I don’t have that reputation. I’ve been with one man for the last fourteen years,” she said with a sassy tone in her voice.

  “I didn’t mean to insult you. I only meant you are a beautiful woman and any man would be honored to get your attention then have you flip ‘em the bird.”

  Orlando had moved from the wall to stand directly in front of her. If she kicked off the five-inch heels, she would have to look up to him. She never considered herself short, but she was at five-feet, four-inches tall in her bare feet. Mark stood five-feet ten-inches tall, and they were compatible in height when she wore heels.