Flirting with Fire: A Summer Camp Swingers novel

“You do, though.” She glanced around at the room, down at the bed, and then at me. “Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“Let’s see,” she mused in a singsong, “what else do I know? You don’t mind a friendly blowjob, but you don’t sleep around, and you won’t sleep with anyone you work with.”

“No.”

“You sound so firm when you say it, so… determined.” Her eyes crinkled with amusement. “But you’re willing to bend the rules. Oh, I know all about it. Or should I say her.”

I cocked my head with feigned curiosity. “Her?”

“The intern?”

“Which one? We have—”

“Tiffanie.”

I sighed. I didn’t see any reason to keep up the evasions, especially when she knew her name, but I wanted to set the record straight.

“Former intern.”

“But current girlfriend.”

“Friend-friend,” I countered.

“You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you? Still?”

We’d hired Tiffanie the year before as one of the company’s first summer interns. She’d been a fourth-year at Tech, cute and kind of geeky, with a cheerleader’s personality more than an artist’s.

At first I thought she was style over substance, but the rest of the interview changed my mind. She had the spark, all right, and she was our top choice, along with a third-year from UGA. They worked for us for ten weeks, and Tiffanie impressed everyone, from CAD operators to department heads.

I enjoyed working with her, but our relationship had been strictly professional, even when she started flirting when we were alone. Her outfits changed too, tighter tops and shorter skirts. She didn’t do anything so obvious that Shari or the other women would notice, but she always found a way to remind me that she had a nice body. She even started dropping hints about “personal mentoring,” after hours, of course.

I’d been tempted, but I’d used my judgment instead. Tiffanie’s internship had ended without drama, and she’d gone back to school in the fall. We’d kept in touch afterward in emails and the occasional phone call. Then she’d stopped by the office, late on a Friday afternoon in early December.

She chatted with Shari and Trip and several others as she made her way back to my office. I was happy to see her, of course, and didn’t think twice about the reason for her visit, much less the timing.

We talked for more than an hour, about school, projects, and life as an architect in the real world. Then Trip stuck his head into my office.

“I’m headed out. I think y’all’re the last ones here. ’Tis the season.”

“We should probably head out too,” I said.

“Sure thing. Anyway, it was great to see you again, Tiffanie.”

“Thanks. You too.”

“You graduate in May, right? Send us your résumé. Paul isn’t the only one who’d love to have you back.” It was genuine praise instead of a come-on. “I don’t know if we’ll have a position available, but we’ll do our best.”

“Thanks! I really appreciate it.”

“All right. Well, I’d better go. Wren’s out Christmas shopping. She found a new restaurant she wants to try. It’s a tough life,” he laughed. “Anyway, y’all have a good night.”

“You too,” I said.

“I’ll lock up behind me, just in case.” He waved and disappeared from the doorway. He began whistling a Christmas tune that faded as he jogged down the main staircase.

Tiffanie asked to use my bathroom to freshen up and change clothes. I didn’t even think twice about it, or that we were alone in the building. She reappeared a few minutes later wearing only a smile and a pair of panties with mistletoe on the front. Then she dropped her real bombshell.

“I know you’re a swinger. So… do you need to check with your wife first? Or can we get down to business?”

I returned to the present, and Allie gave me an expectant smirk.

“We’re friends with benefits,” I said.

“I know. She sounds nice. In fact, she reminds me of me. What I’ve heard about her, that is. My parents weren’t swingers, but I had a fling with my boss when I was her age.”

“The doctor you worked for?”

Allie flinched in surprise, although she recovered quickly and then laughed. “Yeah, I guess Christy tells you things too.”

“Mmm. You were younger, though, still in high school.”

“I was old enough,” she countered, “eighteen.”

“But you never—?”

“Oh, no,” she laughed, “we’re talking about you. And speaking of… I know about the others, too.”

“What others?”

“The other women. Before Tiffanie.”

“None that I worked with. Besides,” I demurred, “there really aren’t that many.”

She decided to call my bluff. “The heiress? What was her name?”

Alexa. My smile tightened. And she hates being called an heiress.

“Fred’s assistant, at the gallery?”

Margie.

“Oh, and the teacher at the girls’ school—”

Genevieve.

“—Miss Li. Too bad she moved. I liked her.”

“Mmm.”

Allie cocked her head and pantomimed thought.

“Okay, I get it,” I said abruptly. “You know all about me.”

She sobered just as quickly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t tease you.”

“No. Besides, you’re talking about people, not characters in one of your books.” I still cared about the women, even though they were in my past.