Andi O'Roarke knew trouble came in many different sizes. Sometimes trouble came in the form of a cop who caught her speeding when she was late for work. Sometimes it was a wild fire blazing out of control that she just couldn't get ahead of. Or other times it was a group of subordinates bored from sitting too long in the fire station.

Andi leaned back in her chair and propped her booted feet on the edge of her desk. The three men standing before her had been at Station Two for almost five years. Johnson, McMillan and Powell. She'd fought fires side-by-side with the men. Cried with them when they responded to their first child fatality due to parents not using a car seat. And drank them under the table on St. Paddy's day. So she knew these guys.

And she knew they were up to no good. Mick Palmer, her second in command arched one eye brow at her. He sensed the same thing she did. No one who hadn't been a firefighter could understand the kind of boredom going almost a week without a blaze entailed.

The station house sparkled from top to bottom, every engine had been washed and waxed and they were all bored from too many games of pool.

"What can I do for you boys?" she asked, crossing her arms over her t-shirt clad stomach.

"We got a bone to pick, Cap," Johnson said as they entered her office. On the wall were certificates she'd received over the course of her fifteen year career and one picture of her family--taken last year at Easter.

"I'm all ears."

They shuffled further into her office. Johnson stood in the doorway, McMillan and Powell leaned against the credenza. They were all in their twenties and in good shape.

"Well, we want to know why these boys in Hillsborough got a couple of strippers in the fire house and all we ever get are kindergarteners," McMillan said, holding the paper out to her.

Andi took the paper from McMillan. Opened it up and read the article. Not that the story was news to her. Word had spread quickly through the entire Florida firefighting community.

A story of a fire chief who'd abused his rank to keep his subordinates quiet about having a couple of strippers act out his sexual fantasies at work. The accompanying photo showed a stripper wearing turnout gear, red spiked heels and well nothing up top. Pretending to study the photo she wondered how many male fire captains were having this exact same discussion.

She folded the paper in half and handed it back to McMillan. There was no way she'd ever jeopardize her career or the careers of her men the way that captain had in Hillsborough.

Andi hadn't been a firefighter for fifteen years for nothing. She was willing to play along. "Okay, if that's what you guys want."

"Really?" Johnson asked. McMillan and Powell both straightened from the credenza. She saw anticipation and excitement in their faces. Some days she really loved her job.

Mick sat up straighter in his chair and she knew he wasn't sure where she was going with this. She was as by-the-book as they came. .

"Are you sure you guys want to do this?" she asked them, careful to keep her voice neutral.

"Oh, yeah," McMillan said.

"Hell, yeah," Johnson added.

She nodded, then put her booted feet on the floor and leaned forward on her desk. "Just checking. My brothers have always sworn that they'd go blind if they saw another man naked."

"What are you talking about, Cap?" asked Powell. "We want strippers."

"I know. Male strippers."

"Cap, that's wrong. Why would we want to see naked men?" McMillan asked.

Johnson turned three shades of red. "Well, damn, Cap, that's just mean. You knew what we were thinking."

"I know that you weren't thinking too well. Why would I want to see naked women?"

"Maybe they forgot you were a woman," said Rodney Coltrane from behind Johnson.

Rodney had been giving her a hard time since they'd met nearly sixteen years ago. While her crew accepted her because of the job she did. Rodney had a burr under his saddle about women in any unit. It didn't help their relationship any that whenever she and he had come head-to-head in any competition for a job or for fun, Andi had always come out the winner.

"Ah, that's not it, Cap. We were just joshing you hoping to ruffle your feathers," Powell said.

"Shoulda known it wouldn't work," Johnson added.

"What can I do for you, Rodney?" she asked as her men filed out. Mick lingered in the room but Andi tilted her head at him until he sighed and left as well.

Mick had been her best friend for too long and there were times when he still wanted to fight her battles for her. Despite the fact that she'd never needed him to do so. It had always made her feel good deep inside where she'd never admit she needed it--the fact that Mick some times tried to protect her.

There was another man standing by Rodney. Someone that Andi had never met before.

He was tall, at least four inches taller than her five-foot-eight frame. His hair was dark brown and his eyes were deep dark green. The color of the grass on that first Spring morning after winter let go of the landscape. Bright and brilliant. Oh, hell, no. She wasn't attracted to one of Rodney's pals.

"Actually I was just helping out Tucker here. He's the arson investigator you had to call in."

She didn't respond to that. They all had to call in an outside arson investigator. They were a rural fire house and didn't have a full time arson specialist on staff. Tucker must be the state guy she'd sent for due to the three warehouse fires they'd had over the last month.

"Tucker Fields, ma'am," he said, holding out his hand. His breath was scented with mint and his aftershave was a clean crisp one that made her want to breath deeper.

"Andrea O'Roarke," she said, taking his hand. His hand was big and calloused. He'd shaken her hand the way she suspected he would shake another man's hand. And that gesture gave her a measure of respect that Rodney had never offered.

When she tried to pull her hand free, he held it for an extra second before releasing her. And when she glanced up at him she noticed his eyes were on her face. Nervously she licked her suddenly dry lips.

"I don't think anyone could mistake you for anything other than a woman."

"Careful, Tucker. Andi's not like other girls, she bites," Rodney said as he turned on his heel and walked out the door.

"My favorite kind," Tucker said, letting her hand slip from his grasp. "But I'm here for business not pleasure."

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