LITMIR.BIZ

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at Exler, Sloane could hear the radio before she ever neared the door. The station promo segued into a song, accompanied by her lab intern, Dave Tomlinson, an MIT engineering student assigned to her for the year. Bright and efficient, he had a quirky sense of humor and a penchant for indie rock, preferably at high decibels. And invariably he sang along. Sloane fought a smile and reached out for the doorknob.

      Dave’s wobbly falsetto carried out into the hall, breaking off abruptly when Sloane opened the door. “Uh-oh.” His hand was already on the dial, turning down the volume. “The warden returns.”

      “And none too soon. Do you know they can hear you down in manufacturing? You’d better watch out or the only place you’ll be playing tunes will be your dorm room.”

      Dave sat at the computer workstation and grinned. “You say that, but I don’t think it really bugs you. Deep down inside, I think you got a soft spot for me.”

      “Quite an imagination you’ve got. You should have gone to Berklee College to be a rock star instead of MIT,” she said, flicking a glance at the list of chords and lyrics he’d scribbled on the lab white board.

      “But then you’d have some boring goob of an intern instead of a talented, charismatic young guy you liked.”

      “What I like is interns who get their jobs done.” Her tone would have carried more authority if humor hadn’t hovered just beneath the surface.

      “Yeah, that was what you said when you tutored me in thermo.”

      That had been when she’d known she was in trouble. Her ice look, the one that had always kept her assistants at a respectful distance, had never worked on Dave.

      Now, he squinted unrepentantly at the computer and tapped the keys. “Hey, I get something done now and then. Did you notice these?” With a flourish he indicated the Orienteer modules and user manuals stacked neatly at one end of the lab bench. “All of them loaded up with software and calibrated, ready to go live. I’m running a simulation on the last one now.”

      “Very nice.” Sloane admired them. “Fast work. How did you get all this done? You were only just starting when I left for my meeting.”

      He shrugged, clicking his mouse. “I kind of skipped lunch.”

      “What?” She frowned at him. “You’re too skinny as it is, Dave.” She didn’t recognize herself playing the role of older sister because she’d never been one. “Go eat and I’ll finish qualifying the last one. Go,” she shooed as he hesitated. “Now.”

      Dave stood up and grabbed his sunglasses off his desk. “Okay, mem sahib, your wish is my command.” He walked jauntily out into the hall. A moment later the door opened again and his head popped back inside. “Hey, boss?”

      “Yes?”

      “You really think I could be a rock star?”

      Sloane tried to keep a straight face. “Truth?”

      “Truth.”

      “Don’t quit your day job,” she advised.

      The door to the lab clicked closed on his whistle and Sloane got to work monitoring the simulations. Her good humor slid into humming concentration as she ran the Orienteer module through scenario after scenario. When the phone rang, she picked it up absently. “Sloane Hillyard.”

      “Nick Trask, Ladder 67.”

      She would have recognized his voice even without the introduction. It was unsettling how clearly she could imagine the lines of his face. Still, no one was going to distract her from getting the gear qualified, no matter how good-looking he was. Too much was at stake.

      She made herself speak coolly, impersonally. “Captain Trask. How are you?”

      “Good enough. How about you?”

      “Fine, thanks. I saw the fire at the tank farm on the news. It looked bad.”

      “For a while. We held onto it, though. Chief Douglass is a good firefighter.” It was the highest praise a firefighter could give.

      “I’m glad everything worked out all right.” Sloane took a deep breath. “So what can I do for you, captain?”

      “You could call me Nick, for starters. I only get called Captain Trask when I’m visiting schools or getting chewed out by the chief.”

      She blinked. “Why?”

      “Why do I get chewed out?”

      “Why should I call you Nick?”

      “We’re going to be working together, right? It might make things a little more friendly.”

      “You didn’t seem too happy about the situation the other day. Why the sudden change of pace?”

      “Call it an experiment. I know Ayre’s an operator, but you were right the other day, I don’t know you at all. I figure you deserve the benefit of the doubt.”

      Oh, nice wasn’t fair, she thought with a little twist of alarm. Nice could be dangerous. Nice could be just the start of far more than she could handle. She paused. “So what can I do for you…Nick?”

      “I thought it was the other way around. That was the gist of our conversation yesterday, wasn’t it?”

      “It was.” Sloane drew a precise pattern of interlocking diamonds on her desk blotter, trying to ignore the quick flutter in her stomach. “You made it pretty clear you wanted nothing to do with pandering to the politicos.” And she wanted nothing to do with any man who could make her stomach flutter. Especially if he was a firefighter.

      “You hold a grudge?”

      “No, but I need cooperation. Nick.”

      “Well, my opinion of the situation hasn’t changed, but as you pointed out, it isn’t up to me. So if I can help you out—safely—then I’ll do it.”

      The stiff note in his voice let her relax a bit. “Start with an open mind.”

      “Done. If the equipment’s good, you’ll have my support. Just don’t expect it to go any further than the testing. The day the department has the money to buy pricey electronics like you’re peddling is the day I’ll be driving to work in a Rolls.”

      Sloane took a deep breath. “I don’t know what you drive, but I do know this equipment is going to be an important tool, as common in firehouses as thermal cameras.”

      “No doubt.”

      “No, there isn’t,” she said shortly. There couldn’t be, not after all she’d been through. “Now is there something else, Captain Trask?”

      “Nick. And yeah, there is. I need to know what you want to do about the testing. How many men you want, when, what kind of apparatus, all that. You might find an engine company better suited to your needs, by the way.”

      Sloane shook her head, forgetting that he couldn’t see her. “No, it has to be a truck company. I’ve got five Orienteers to test, plus the master unit that I’ll be using to monitor. I’d like to keep it to the same group of men.”

      “We can do that if you schedule carefully.”

      “Good. What I had in mind was a session or two at the training facility, where we’ll have control. Once I’m sure the kinks are all out of it, you can start taking it onto fire grounds. I need a minimum of three fire situations over and above the training facility sessions to get meaningful statistics.”

      “Okay. Let’s set up some dates.”

      It didn’t take long, when it came down to it, and she entered the dates in her computer with satisfaction. “We’re all set, then. I’ll see you at the Quincy facility on Saturday.”

      “All right.” Nick paused. “You know, Bill Grant backed you when I talked to him. Despite his unfortunate tendency to cooperate

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