Hot and Ready [Men for Hire: Firemen 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  Men for Hire: Firemen 3

  Hot and Ready

  Beth Davidson needs money for nursing school and comes up with the idea to photograph sexy firemen in provocative poses for a BDSM calendar. Although she’s ready to snap a few photos, her shyness has kept her sex life strictly vanilla, putting her own fantasies of submitting on hold.

  Firefighters, Aaron Mason and Seth Sheppard, want Beth as their submissive. They say yes to posing as BDSM calendar models, but only if she’ll give into her desires.

  Beth’s craving to experience submissive sex wars against her inhibitions. But after photographing month after sinful month of provocative scenes, she has two choices. Either give in to her passion and pose with Aaron and Seth, or give up not only her dream of becoming a nurse, but her fantasy of claiming them as her masters.

  Can they persuade her to give into her need to submit? Or will another man’s unwanted advances keep her sensuality locked inside her?

  Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre

  Length: 54,806 words

  HOT AND READY

  Men for Hire: Firemen 3

  Jane Jamison

  MENAGE EVERLASTING

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

  HOT AND READY

  Copyright © 2014 by Jane Jamison

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62741-542-2

  First E-book Publication: April 2014

  Cover design by Les Byerley

  All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Hot and Ready by Jane Jamison from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

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  This is Jane Jamison’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Jamison’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  DEDICATION

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for making my Men for Hire series a success. I write the books I love, but it’s always a thrill to know that my readers enjoy them as much as I do.

  Thanks again,

  Jane Jamison

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  About the Author

  HOT AND READY

  Men for Hire: Firemen 3

  JANE JAMISON

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  Beth Davidson peeked over her shoulder, saw that her boss George Miller of Progressive Development was on the phone, then tossed a wadded-up Post-It note over the wall of her cubicle. As he always did, George had swiveled his chair around so that he faced the wall of his office, putting his back to Beth, his executive assistant. Her job title had changed over the two years she’d worked there, but the job had remained the same, including the pitiful pay she earned. She glanced around the huge room filled with cubicles like hers. No one could tell the difference. The sales people, including the Regional Manager, had the same type of desk, computer, and metal file cabinet. Only George had an office.

  A Post-It note of a different color fell into her lap. She glanced at the clock on her computer and counted down three minutes. Checking on her boss one more time, she eased out of her chair and hurried down the aisle between the other workers toward the front of the office. Her best friend, Ruthie Morgenstern, had somehow beat her to the conference room and was pulling down the shades on the ceiling-to-floor window that looked into the office area.

  They’d gotten caught for goofing off before, but once she’d told George that they were discussing a “female matter,” he’d left them alone for the next hour. She figured she could use the same excuse one more time before she had to find a different one.

  She eased the door closed behind her, ignoring Agnes Shoneholder’s admonishing look, then hurried to the far side of the room and plunked down onto the cushy leather chair at the end of the long mahogany table. Where had Agnes come from anyway? Her cubicle was across the room. The woman had to have eyes rotating around her head that helped her see in every direction at once. Ruthie sat on the edge of the table near the door, playing lookout should anyone turn the doorknob.

  “Be careful. Agnes is on the alert. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was halfway to George’s office by now.”

  Ruthie rolled her eyes, then picked up the manila folder beside her. “I brought a file just in case. If Georgie comes in we’ll tell him we’re running the numbers on”—she paused and glanced at the client’s name on the pink tab—“the Shubert and Wallace acquisition.”

  Progressive Development had a lot of clients, which meant Beth had no clue who Shubert and Wallace were. It didn’t matter. She had no intention of building a career in commercial real estate development. Instead, she hoped to get into nursing school. Starting later than most at twenty-seven didn’t bother her. What counted was fulfilling her dream. But lately, that dream had never seemed so unattainable.

  Ruthie had been her friend from the first momen
t she’d started working there. The red-head with the frizzy hair and large glasses had welcomed her with a big hug, surprising the hell out of her. She’d soon learned that Ruthie had a heart as big as the Grand Canyon.

  “So what’s up?” Ruthie studied her nails. No matter how much she tried to keep them looking good, they always ended up broken or with badly chipped nail polish. She’d tried press-on nails, but invariably lost one within an hour of putting them on.

  “I just received an e-mail. My first semester’s tuition for nursing school is due in two months and I don’t have enough to pay even half of it.” She slouched into the chair. “Aw, hell. What was I thinking, anyway? I knew when I applied and then got accepted that I didn’t have any way to pay for it. And yet, I couldn’t turn it down. The Helping Hands School of Nursing has a spot reserved for me and I’m going to have to call and say I can’t swing it.”

  “What about a loan?”

  Her friend was wonderful, but her memory sucked. “Ruthie, you know I’ve already tried all the banks and they turned me down flat. All I can do now is sell an organ on the black market. Do you know anyone who needs a slightly-inebriated liver? I’m willing to haggle.” She pretended to down a drink, then threw her hands up in the air.

  “I guess I could always sell my car. How much do you think I could get for a 1988 Toyota Corolla with over two hundred thousand miles on it?”

  Ruthie tossed her an exasperated look. “Pulease. You can’t sell your car. How would you get to work?”

  Beth didn’t bother asking her friend why she didn’t tell her that she needed to keep her liver, too. She’d learned long ago that Ruthie’s mind didn’t work like most people’s. That was part of her endearing charm.

  “What about the scholarship you were hoping to get?”

  The nursing school gave out a few scholarships each semester. The amounts of the scholarships weren’t much, but every little bit would help. She shrugged, although the rejection hurt more than she’d ever let on. “I didn’t get one. I guess messing around back in high school and getting mediocre grades has finally come back to bite me.”

  “Hmm. Any chance on getting government assistance?”

  “About as much chance of my getting elected as the first woman president.”

  “That blows, Bethie.”

  Ruthie was the only one she’d allow to call her Bethie. “Yeah, it does.”

  “If only I had another way to earn more money. God knows that tight-ass George isn’t going to give me a raise.” Maybe she didn’t deserve one, but what about a cost of living raise? And a little extra for cute shoes? A girl had to have something to live for.

  “Well, I could think of at least twenty people who’d chip in on a contract. You could be the hit man to take old Georgie out. Hell, I’d bet even Mrs. Georgie would throw in a hundred. Do you want me to start asking for donations? You could add a little poison to his morning coffee, then bang, we get a new boss who’ll give you that raise and you end up with a wad of cash for doing the deed.”

  She laughed, loving Ruthie’s sense of humor. For the briefest of moments, she gave the idea half a thought, then tossed it away. She couldn’t even swat a fly. She could never kill an actual human being not matter how much he might deserve it. Granted, old Georgie didn’t act like a human a lot of the time, but she was pretty sure he was one. A human without a heart, maybe, but he still made the cut as a person. Barely.

  “Shoot. With my luck, I’d blow it and shoot Georgie’s pet Chihuahua instead. Or we’d end up getting an even worse boss like Agnes.”

  Ruthie feigned horror. “Don’t even think that.”

  She’d been in the dumps about the whole situation for days. A chat with Ruthie usually cheered her up, especially when Ruthie made outlandish jokes, but so far her friend wasn’t helping much. “This sucks. What am I going to do?”

  “Damn, Bethie, I wish I could think of something, but it beats the hell out of me.” Ruthie pulled a calendar out of the Schubert and Wallace folder. “Hey, maybe this will cheer you up.”

  The calendar wasn’t one of George’s boring Progressive Development’s “Let Us Help You Grow!” calendars full of photos of office buildings and strips malls the company had developed. Beth’s eyes grew wide as she flipped through the pages, scanning from one month to the next. Construction workers and landscapers graced the pages. Their brawny bodies were perfect, tanned, with shoulders so wide a girl could climb aboard and ride them. They had on hard hats as well as jeans that, for some wonderful, yet odd reason, always slipped just below their waistlines. If the jeans had fallen an inch lower, she would’ve seen whether or not the men liked to landscape other areas besides the front yards of houses.

  She’d seen similar calendars and had even kept a few of them to tantalize her daydreams. Her fantasies, however, had more than one man in the picture.

  “The only way this is going to cheer me up is if one of them walked off the page and carried me over his shoulder straight out of this place.”

  “Quick.” Ruthie snatched the calendar out of her hands and shoved it back in the file just as Agnes opened the door.

  Agnes was pushing sixty if she was a day. She’d told the entire office how much she loved working there, as though admonishing them for not loving it as much as she did. Her long, bird-beak nose should’ve been as dark as mud with all the brownnosing she did to Georgie. Beth often thought Agnes’s only joy in life was squealing on her fellow employees. The beady-eyed woman with graying hair and a growing paunch glared at them.

  “What are you two doing in here? Why aren’t you at your desks working? Do you think you get paid to flap your lips?”

  Ruthie, who had more guts than Beth could hope to ever have, lifted the Schubert and Wallace folder into the air and shot Agnes a condescending smirk. “What’s it look like we’re doing? Knitting a shawl for you?” As big as her heart was, as forgiving as she was to everyone else, Ruthie couldn’t stand squealers. She disliked Agnes for that.

  “Ruthie.” But her friend ignored her whispered warning.

  “It looks like you’re wasting time gossiping. That’s what it looks like.” Agnes’s dark, squinty eyes zipped between them, narrowing even more than before. Beth wouldn’t have been surprised if the old biddy started pecking at them.

  The image of Agnes doing that had Beth ducking her head to hide her giggle. It wouldn’t do any good for her to try and pull one over Agnes. She was a lousy liar.

  “Is there anything we can do for you, Agnes?” Ruthie adopted a fake pleasant smile. “Hmm?”

  “Just get back to work or I’ll let Mr. Miller know that you’re using company time inefficiently.” Her gaze skimmed Beth from her head to her heels. “You need to watch what you wear to the office. That skirt is far too short and the blouse emphasizes your large bosom.”

  Ruthie scrutinized Beth. “Really? I think her clothes are fine. And I’m sure Georgie doesn’t mind the way she dresses. Maybe we should go ask him?”

  Beth tried not to grimace. Suggesting that they ask Georgie would lead to questions about why they were in the conference room. Hell, he might even look inside the client folder and find the calendar.

  “I don’t think they’re bad, Agnes. Melissa Wilkins wears dresses only an inch below her butt.” It was the truth.

  “Melissa Wilkins is an agent. An agent who isn’t above using her womanly charms to make a sale.”

  And I’m just a lowly peon of a secretary.

  “I bet real estate development isn’t the only thing she’s selling,” whispered Ruthie.

  “What was that, young lady?”

  “Nothing, Agnes.” Ruthie shook her head, playing the innocent.

  Beth breathed a sigh of relief. She never knew what Ruthie might say. She’s going to get us fired one of these days.

  Agnes wasn’t fooled. “Get back to your desks straight away.”

  “We will,” offered Beth, trying to appease the older woman.

  “Or…” Ruthie held out t
he client folder.

  Beth froze. Oh, God. What are you doing?

  “You could help us.” Ruthie batted her eyelashes. “What do you say, Agnes? Want to lend us a hand?”

  Agnes’s nose jumped higher into the air along with one eyebrow. “I have more important matters to attend to. Besides, you two need to learn to handle your own work load. We can’t have people who don’t pull their weight. In fact, I’m going to let Mr. Miller know exactly what you’re up to.”

  Ruthie feigned a shocked expression. “Why, Agnes, I’m crushed. I thought we had a simpatico kind of thing. No?”

  Damn it. She really is going to get us canned.

  Beth jumped to her feet, hurrying over to Agnes as she spun around to head to Georgie’s office. “Agnes, no.” She took the older woman by the arms. “You know she’s only kidding.”

  “No, she wasn’t. You two are hiding something and—”

  “Please, Agnes. You know we think the world of you.”

  Agnes kept her mouth open, gaping at her. “What are you talking about? She treats me with disrespect even if it is couched in a pleasant tone.”

  She wrapped her arm around Agnes’s frail shoulders, then leaned her head closer, dropping her voice low so the employees in the nearby cubicles wouldn’t hear her. “Don’t you get it? We only tease the people we like. You know. Like best girlfriends.”

  Okay. Maybe I can lie better than I thought.

  The frown on her face stayed, but Beth could see the doubt in her eyes. What had Ruthie told her about convincing someone that what she said was true? That people wanted to hear good things about themselves? Even if those things were full of lies.