A/N and Disclaimer: I hope you all are not as hot as I have been this summer. But if you have been battling the heat, this story is sure not to help because it's hot. It's a Samcedes Inferno that I have reimagined from Mari Carr's Up in Flames. I own nothing from Glee, Carr's story, or any other copyrighted material. I hope you enjoy it. Please forgive all my errors.

Chapter 1

"When are we going to slide down your pole?"

"No kids are allowed on my pole. Your teacher can because only adults can slide down poles."

Mercy was jerked from her inappropriate daydreams when seventeen heads looked at her with pleading expressions, the five-year-olds in her class looking at her hopefully—as if she'd actually do such a thing.

The fireman's comments caught her off guard, since she'd stopped listening to him a few minutes earlier. It wasn't that she wasn't interested in what was being said. It was because of the way he talked. His slow, deep, rich timbre had her nipples hard and her panties wet. He was burning her up from the inside out like some sort of inferno.

To try to extinguish it, she had been looking around the fire station, pretending to be interested in the trucks, equipment, uniforms, and hoses. Basically anything that might distract her from staring into the bright green eyes of Sam "The Firefighting Ladies Man" Evans.

She snapped out of her musings when she realized everyone was still looking at her, waiting for a response to whether or not she was going down the pole.

"Unfortunately, I am not dressed for doing that today," she said, gesturing to her maxi dress.

Sam's gorgeous green eyes slid leisurely down her outfit to her Skechers's sandals taking in everything in between.

Mercy wasn't shy, an introvert yes but shy no not at all and when Sam's gaze returned to her face, a wide smile graced his face and drew her attention to his surprisingly plump lips as he gave her the world's most lethal panty wetting grin.

She gushed and again felt a new surge of wetness coat her granny panties.

Lord help me.

Mercy never got soaked in front of her students, but the heat in her nether regions grew even hotter when he said, "I think you're dressed just right."

She shot him a narrow-eyed gaze, silently chastising him for his completely inappropriate sexual innuendos. Of course, her students didn't have a clue this conversation had absolutely nothing to do with their teacher actually sliding down that pole in the corner.

Sam Evans was flirting with her. Something she had been warned would happen.

Mercy had moved to Lima, Ohio, from Atlanta, Georgia, exactly a month ago, after landing her first teaching job in the small town. She was one of two kindergarten teachers at North Lima Elementary School.

She hadn't known a soul in town when she pulled up to the rental home she had found online, every single thing she possessed in her Toyota RAV4 and the small U-Haul she'd towed halfway across the country. Mercy had been a late hire, which meant the majority of her things were still in boxes scattered around mostly empty rooms. She'd started work two days after arriving in town and hadn't had time to unpack properly or even assemble the new furniture she'd purchased, every spare moment at home spent planning lessons for the next day and taking care of her son.

The short time between move and work had actually been a blessing in one regard. Lima wasn't much bigger than a cigar box, and it had become apparent, fairly early on, that her best chance of meeting people was at school. The school nurse, Tina, had introduced herself the first day and taken pity on Mercy. Tina was a born and bred Lima Loser—a name she'd disturbingly given herself—and she had taken Mercy under her wing, filling her in on who was who and what was where.

So it was Tina who'd warned her when the field trip to the fire station was approved that Sam Evans was the hottest single guy in town, as well as the resident playboy. She said he would lay on the charm, with the single goal of getting into Mercy's pants.

Like an overconfident idiot, she had assured Tina she was in no danger of succumbing to Sam's charming playboy ways.

Then Sam had sauntered out of the open garage door, in a green T-shirt that had been washed twelve too many times and faded jeans that accentuated every line, every muscle, every drool-worthy inch of his fine ass body.

Mercy had looked up and down his body again. Her eyes flew to his face, and Sam shot her a wink that let her know he'd caught her checking him out Then he continued talking about all the things a firefighter wore, grabbing a large fire helmet off a nearby counter, and plopping it down on Marissa's blonde head, to everyone's amusement.

This was bad, very bad.

Mercy knew Sam's type—intimately. Knew it well enough she could recite—chapter and verse—all the reasons why she was not going to sleep with someone like him.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

She searched the faces of the children who surrounded Sam, all of whom were hanging on his every word, and found him.

JJ her baby, Jacob Mercer Jones, also known as Jake.

Her number one reason for resisting the playboy firefighter pulling out all the flirting stops, with his "look how great I am with kids" grin and the subtle flexing of his biceps as he lifted himself up on the side of the fire truck to point out the tower ladder.

Unfortunately, looking at JJ didn't help because her son was staring at Sam like he was a flipping Avenger, the god of thunder, and the fire ax Sam had slung over his shoulder was Thor's hammer.

JJ wanted a dad. Mercy knew that. The poor kid practically salivated when it came to male attention.

The problem with giving the kid what he wanted meant she had to find a way to resist guys like Sam and seek out a decent, respectable man like Tina's husband, Mike. He had renewed her faith that they were good men in their age group that she didn't have to go looking for a forty plus year old.

She had even come up with a list that Tina agreed was a good one in looking for a good man.. She needed someone who was serious about his career, responsible with money, and loved Jake as if he were his own son.

She realized there probably should have been more on that list—something to do with her attraction to the guy, but every other thing she added tended to fall into a category that had less to do with finding Jake a good dad and more with a guy who could satisfy her in bed.

She was brought out of her wool gathering when Sam hopped down from the truck, landing right next to her. It was the closest he'd gotten to her since they'd arrived.

He smelled good. Some faint woodsy cologne mingled with mint. She had seen the dish of candy on a counter against the back wall when they'd arrived and had to shoo half the class away. Kids were clearly born with some sort of candy radar.

Tempted to lean closer, Mercy cleared her throat and looked at the kids. "Anybody else have a question for Fireman Evans before snack time?"

She added snack time because she'd learned on the first day of school, kindergarteners always have more questions. And none of them have a damn thing to do with the lesson. She hoped the promise of food would stifle that desire to ask a billion questions that made no sense most of the time. They just liked hearing the sounds of their voices.

Out of the peripheral of her eye she realized that the bribe of the snack hadn't worked.

Five hands shot up. "Harmony," Mercy called out.

"Are you going on another date with my mommy?"

Mercy was mortified, but Sam just laughed.

"Well," he started to answer.

"No more questions," she said before Sam could answer or God forbid, anyone else make the same inquiry. "Let's head outside and have our snack. Then we need to say goodbye to Firefighter Evans and get back to school."

Food was a great distractor when it came to kids, so Mercy had to hustle to keep up as they swarmed the picnic table behind the fire station. She pulled out the small bags of animal crackers or goldfish crackers based on the child's preference, while Sam opened the cooler of drinks, handing each kid a juice box.

Once they were all settled, she opened up her own pack of crackers. Before she could pull one out, another hand was sneaking into her bag.

"So, Mrs." Sam reached down, pulling her left hand up to inspect her bare ring finger. "Miss Jones," he corrected with a grin that reminded her she'd failed to slip on her fake engagement ring that she wore to stop players from hitting on her. She stifled a grimace as she listened to him. "How are you liking Lima?"

The town was small enough that a new teacher moving in was actually considered interesting news. "It's very nice. I've only been here a month, so I'm afraid I haven't had much time to explore."

"I could show you around. Give you the best tour of not only the city but the entire county, too."

I'm sure you could and it would both start and end in your bedroom.

"That's okay," she said as she shoved any thoughts of Sam and his bedroom away from her mind. "I only started work a couple days after moving in, so I still have a ton of unpacking to do."

"I don't mind helping with that too. I can do all of the heavy lifting for you. Help set up your bed…room."

Mercy wasn't sure if she imagined the pause between bed and room or if it was really there. Sam shifted closer to her, helping himself to another cracker. Apparently, they were splitting the package, even though there were a half dozen more unopened bags on the picnic table.

Truth was she was tempted to take him up on the offer. She and Jake were still sleeping on mattresses on the floor because assembling the bed frames required tools she didn't have.

She shrugged. "I'm good. Thanks anyway for volunteering."

She thought he had gotten the picture and taken the rejection in stride.

Then he said, "How about a drink one night? You can't be all work and no play."

Mercy knew exactly how to shut down the flirting. She pointed to her son. "Actually, I can. See the black boy there in the blue and white T-shirt. He's mine."

Sam didn't seem bothered to discover she was a mother. "Cute kid. What's his name?"

"I call him JJ but at school he wants to be called Jake, which is short for his name Jacob," she said. Then she recalled Harmony's question. Clearly kids weren't a deterrent when it came to his sexual conquests. "I should probably admit—"

"Let me guess," Sam interrupted. "You've been warned to stay away from me."

Mercy wasn't sure how to reply to that because she had been told in no uncertain terms that Sam had some sort of magical skills when it came to getting women into bed. So she lied. "No. I haven't."

He tilted his head, studying her face in disbelief. She was careful to school her features.

Then her curiosity got the better of her. "Why would someone warn me to stay away from you?"

Mercy had never met a guy who gave a shit about his reputation. She figured men like Sam wore them around like badges of honor.

Sam gave her a smile that revealed perfect white teeth and it occurred to her he was very, very dangerous.

"I don't know," he lied. "But it is a well known fact that I am a sucker for pretty women. Everybody in town knows that."

"Is that right?" Oh why did her voice come out too breathy, too flirty? That wasn't her intent at all. She was supposed to be resisting this…him.

Unfortunately, her body had her brain in a chokehold and she was running out of air. It had been a very long, very miserable dry spell.

He smiled, "I think you know I am right."

It was a playful, friendly tone, so her sudden desire to tear his T-shirt off and sink her teeth into one of his ripped abs seemed a bit over the top.

His eyes narrowed slightly, as he could sense her attraction to him. "You're not in any danger from me, Mrs. Jones, but I am from you if you reject me. You should put me out of my misery."

She wished she could figure out a way to cut through the sexual tension between them. Neither of them was saying much of anything, yet she felt like there was this whole other conversation happening just below the surface. Especially when he reached for another cracker, his fingers lightly caressing the back of her hand as he did so. It was a feather-light touch, but it packed a punch.

Mercy's stomach fluttered every time he leaned close, her breathing shallow, rapid. Her vagina clenched whenever he looked at her.

"Misery, huh? What would you suggest I do? We had a dog that was suffering once. My dad took him out in the backyard and shot him."

Sam laughed. "I was thinking of something a little more humane."

"I think that was very humane."

"You're a cold, cruel woman, Mrs. Jones. It's turning me on. Have a drink with me. Or better yet, dinner."

One glance below his belt proved she wasn't the only one standing here in a total state of arousal.

He shifted his hips and adjusted his jeans, but not before she caught sight of the telltale bulge of his erection.

This was insane. There were too many kids running around.

Time to get a grip and stop this inappropriate behavior.

Her problem was she hadn't felt this hot and bothered since before her son was born.

Getting pregnant on the same night she'd lost her virginity had a way of killing a sex drive. She had merely fooled around during high school, limiting herself to second base and no further. Sophomore year of college that self-control gave way to Jake Puckerman, the sex-on-a-stick frat boy, who talked her into going to a party with him, then talked her out of her pants. Between his charming Southern drawl—sweet Jesus, what was it about a guy calling her darlin'—and the three vodka tonics, she'd succumbed.

Three weeks later, the stick she'd pissed on showed a plus sign, so she had dropped out of college, moved back home, and did college the hard way—online while working a part-time job and taking care of a baby.

Jake Puckerman chose not to exercise his paternal rights—jerk—and for six years, she hadn't felt a single spark of horniness. She only named her son Jacob so he could have something of his sperm donor, but her baby's last name was Jones just like hers and he never met his biological dad.

She had dedicated her life to her son and getting her degree. She hadn't been out on a date or had sex with another person in six years.

Nothing.

And now, it all came back to her in one typhoon of hunger and need and clawing desire.

If she ordered a dildo online right now, could it be delivered by tonight? Mercy actually started to reach for her iPhone, then recalled where she was. And who she was with.

"Shi—ugar cubes," she muttered.

Ever since Jake was born, she'd been trying to clean up her language. She was only about halfway successful.

Sam chuckled. "You okay, Mrs. Jones?"

She needed to cut this off at the knees. Now. "My name is Mercy."

"Mercy. Very pretty name."

"Use it instead, okay?"

"I don't know. I sort of like the sound of Mrs. Jones. Puts me in a naughty frame of mind. Me and Mrs. Jones, we got a thing going on." He sang in a surprisingly good tone in my ear.

Oh yeah—she was going to ignore that line. As soon as she fast-forwarded through at least six naughty things she wanted Sam to do to her.

She wondered if she could improvise until she got a dildo. Would a cucumber or zucchini work? She didn't have anything at home for dinner, so a trip to the grocery store was definitely in order.

Sam ran the back of his fingers over her cheek. "You feel the same thing too. It is all consuming isn't it?"

"Fuu-dge." This had to stop right here. "Listen, Sam. I appreciate the invitation for drinks, but I'm not interested in seeing anyone right now."

"We can go as just friends."

Mercy nearly laughed in his face. She had a million feelings rumbling around inside her at the moment and not one of them was friendly.

She shook her head, digging deep for the strength to say what needed to be said. "I think I should stop you right here. I have two priorities at the moment and they include my son and my new job. I don't have time for dating, and even if I did, you aren't my type."

"Is it because I am white?"

"Of course not."

"Then why?"

"I, um…"

He laughed at her discomfort. "So you have been warned."

Mercy had just enough pride that she hated being called on her lie. "Let's just say your reputation precedes you and while I'm sure you're used to women who are fine with a few nights tangling the sheets with you, I have a son to think of. When I step back into the dating world, it's going to be with someone interested in going the distance."

"The distance?"

"Commitment," she explained, certain her next words would run him off for sure. "Someone who'll be a good dad to Jake."

Unfortunately, Sam Evans was made of sterner stuff.

"And what about you? Don't you want love and companionship and…" He leaned so close, she could feel the heat of his breath on her face as he added, "A man buried deep between those thick chocolate covered thighs of yours?"

Mercy started to ask him how he knew her thighs were thick. Right now, they were buried underneath a ton of flowing, colorful cotton.

Instead, she just shrugged. All of the things he mentioned fell considerably lower on her list of dating requirements. Jake's happiness was her primary concern. Love and—she swallowed heavily—great sex didn't matter when stacked against what was best for her son.

"I think you're lying," he murmured, standing way too close to her to be appropriate.

"What?"

"You want heart-stopping, soul-burning sex," he said, scrutinizing her face, his words spoken so low and deep, she could barely hear him. "You need someone to eat you out not once but twice in the same night. You're starving for it."

"Sam," she chastised, her voice almost a whisper.

"They can't hear us." He put a couple feet between them, but he clearly hadn't given up the fight. "You realize you can have fun along the way, while you look for this pillar of fatherhood, don't you?"

Before she could answer, Mercy felt a tug on her braid. "Can I have another juice box, Mommy?"

She smiled down at Jake, grateful for the distraction. Things between her and Sam were getting out of hand.

The last month had been an adjustment for both of them, first the big move away from his cousins, uncles, friends, and loving grandparents, the new house, and the fact that she was his teacher. "I don't have enough for everyone to have a second, Jake."

She knew in an instant he was going to pout. God help his first-grade teacher next year because he was seriously going to be screwed up after a year of Mom-teacher.

Mercifully, Sam knew exactly how to distract him. "Are you a baseball fan?" he asked, tapping on the bill of Jake's Braves cap.

"Yeah!" Jake replied excitedly. His undying love of baseball was fairly recent, sparked by her father, who'd taken him to a Braves game last spring with her brothers and their sons. Since then, Jake had talked of precious little else, begging for a glove, bat, balls, and wanting her to play with him outside twenty-four seven.

Mercy hated baseball. She could tolerate basketball and football, but baseball…watching paint dry had more appeal.

"Have you ever considered playing on a team?" Sam asked.

"He's a little young, don't you think?" she replied.

Sam shook his head as Jake's eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the thought.

"Our local recreation runs little leagues. Tee-ball is part of it. Sign-ups are going on now."

"Tee-ball?" The idea of sitting on hard bleachers watching five-year-olds knock baseballs off a post for hours on end sounded like the definition of hell on earth.

Unfortunately, Jake had already signed with a major-league team in his mind. "Can I, Mommy? Can I play?"

"You don't have any equipment," she said, trying to recall exactly how much money was left in her checking account. The move had taken what little money she'd managed to save and her first paycheck was still another week or two away.

"I have a glove," Jake insisted.

Right now, he had an old mitt of her dad's that was way too big for him. "It's an adult glove, Jake. You can barely keep it on your hand."

Sam was no more deterred than Jake. "The Rec department has extra mitts they'll loan out."

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Sam to stop being so freaking helpful, but it was too late. The damage was done.

Jake was dancing around them. "I'm going to play baseball."

Sam laughed at his enthusiasm. "Have you ever played catch?"

Jake settled down. "Mommy throws the ball to me."

"Is she any good?"

Mercy narrowed her eyes at Sam, who was clearly having fun at her expense.

"She throws like a girl," Jake muttered. "The ball doesn't go very far."

She wanted to argue about that, but she couldn't.

"How about I teach you?" Sam offered and Mercy instantly saw his game.

No. Hell no.

"You will?" Jake started bouncing again. "Can he, Mommy? Please. Pretty please?"

"I could stop by Saturday afternoon." Sam's smug smile let her know he believed he'd won this round.

Mercy nodded, simply because she didn't trust herself not to let the few choice words she was thinking fly.

"Great." Sam slipped his phone out of his pocket, tapped in a few things, then held it out to her. "Why don't you put in your number and I'll text later to set up a time and get your address?"

She begrudgingly took the phone because JJ was still there, watching them. Sam had put Mrs. Jones in as the contact information.

She was "this close" to giving the asshole the wrong number, but one look at JJ's excited face had her typing in the real thing.

Sam's fingers brushed hers when she handed the phone back and every single cell inside her body clenched…with excitement and need.

"We, um." Her throat was suddenly tight and she cleared it. "We should start loading the bus."

Sam reached out for a handshake. Mercy accepted it because it was the polite thing to do, but his hand was too large and warm with callouses that proved he wasn't afraid of hard work. And because she was pretty much out of control of her libido, she imagined what those rough fingers would feel like inside her.

Mercy shivered. Sam noticed, and his eyes went dark with the same hunger she felt.

"I'll see you on Saturday."

She nodded, then tried to pull her hand back. Sam didn't let go. Instead, he gave it one last squeeze.

She tugged harder and he relented.

As soon as she was free, she felt the overwhelming desire to give him her hand back. His huge hands were one more thing that was going to make this man hard to resist.