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Chapter For PLAYING WITH FIRE by Cathy McDavid
There are worse things than having to parade
half-naked in front of three hundred spectators.
Lindsay Pfeiffer composed a mental list while walking
from the parking lot to the fairgrounds behind the historic Old Town Library.
Unfortunately, she didn’t have to think hard. To date, her career
as a firefighter for the City of Glendale had been fraught with personal
disasters.
Three weeks into her first rotation as a booter, the term
used to designate rookies, she’d turned a valve the wrong way and
sent enough pressure through the hose to blast her captain, Emilio Chavez,
from one end of the concrete driveway to the other.
Only last month during a fire prevention assembly at an
elementary grade school, a student asked her if menstruation ever interfered
with her ability to do her job.
And then there was the time she lost control of the engine
during training maneuvers and ran over a dozen orange cones, not to mention
an entire family of practice dummies. The battalion chief had witnessed
that particular debacle. He was here again today, and Lindsay fought a
sinking feeling of déjá vu. She didn’t need another
mishap to distinguish herself. Especially when she was in the middle of
testing for the position of engineer.
Probably none of the guys minded sitting on a narrow platform
wearing only their swim trunks and a big fat grin. They enjoyed showing
off their chests, unlike Lindsay, who had no chest to show off at all.
Tall and athletically built, her streamlined silhouette lacked the necessary
curves and angles to attract a man’s attention. Muscles hardened
by strenuous physical labor were great for carrying forty pounds of equipment,
but did zero for her self-esteem.
If the battalion chief hadn’t made an hour-long
stint at ‘Douse the Flame’ dunking tank mandatory for all
off-duty firefighters, Lindsay wouldn’t be at the fair. She certainly
wouldn’t be there wearing a single square yard of neon yellow polyester
beneath her clothing—one piece, Lindsay didn’t do bikinis.
The thought of removing said clothing and exposing herself
to a mob of strangers triggered a case of hives, and she scratched the
back of her neck as she wound her way through a maze of tents which defied
navigation. Her mouth watered as she passed a kettle corn vendor, but
now was not the time to be picking kernels from her teeth.
“Hey, Lindsay!”
She stopped short at the familiar voice. Shading her eyes,
she peered over a sea of bobbing heads. Patrons, dressed sparsely in order
to enjoy the water-theme attractions, wandered about in chaotic disorder.
“Over here.” Melodie Peterson waved, thrusting
her entire chubby body into the gesture. The young secretary worked in
Fire Administration and organized the various outreach programs sponsored
by the department. Proceeds from ‘Douse the Flame’ were slated
for Habitat for Humanity, a favorite charity of the battalion chief.
“Hi!” Lindsay waved back, less enthusiastically,
and started toward Melodie. Despite the hot weather, the Summer Daze Festival
had attracted a record crowd. Lindsay narrowly avoided being trampled.
“Excuse me.”
A harried mother pushing an empty stroller with one hand
while leading a toddler with the other cut in front of Lindsay. Her unconcerned
youngster gobbled a fluffy pink confection, more of it sticking to his
face than winding up in his tummy.
“You made it,” Melodie said, grabbing Lindsay’s
arm and plucking her from the flowing stream of humankind. Without giving
her a chance to catch her breath, Melodie propelled Lindsay behind the
exhibit to a makeshift dressing room. “Dennis Bigelow bet Emilio
Chavez ten bucks you wouldn’t show. He said you were too chicken.”
“I’m surprised Emilio sided with me.”
“Oh, he’s not still mad over that hose thing.”
Melodie dismissed Lindsay with an exasperated huff. “Will you just
forget it?” She pulled the floral shower curtain aside. “You
can change in here. You’re early, so take your time. Matt still
has ten minutes left on his shift.”
Lindsay froze partway inside the dressing room. “Matt
Callahan?”
“Yes, silly.” An eye roll accompanied the
mild chiding. “Do you know another Matt?”
“No.”
But at that moment, Lindsay wished she did. It would make
staring at his underwear much easier.
Boxers. Grey and white pinstriped. They were slung over
the curved rod supporting the shower curtain, along with the rest of his
clothes. Not quite what she’d pictured him wearing and to be honest,
she frequently pictured Matt in various stages of undress. In her imagination,
however, he wore something flashy, sexy, and sinfully snug. Maybe knowing
the specifics of his intimate apparel would quash the fantasies she’d
been having about him since they met at the academy two years earlier.
After all, she was dating Joey. And it didn’t seem
right to be seeing one man while secretly lusting after his roommate.
Lindsay glanced over her shoulder at Melodie and offered
a weak smile. Her coworker enjoyed gossiping far too much for Lindsay
to risk being the subject of yet another juicy story.
“I thought he was scheduled for Sunday.” The
fair lasted all weekend, and Lindsay had made sure to sign up for a different
day than Matt.
“You know Matt. Always trading shifts with somebody.”
“Yeah.” Of all the rotten luck.
“I’ve got towels for you up front. You’ll
need several, trust me.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right out.”
Lindsay ducked behind the shower curtain and waited for
Melodie to retreat before groaning with frustration. Her morning was nose-diving
at an alarming rate. First there was her impending bathing suit exhibition
and now Matt Callahan. What next?
The answer came to her in flash when she realized the
only place to hang her own clothes was right next to Matt’s. Her
throat constricted, and the groan became a gurgle.
Her despair didn’t last. “What’s the
big deal anyway? I’ll just leave them on the ground. A few grass
stains are nothing compared to the alternative.”
Bending over, she attacked her sneaker laces. Once undone,
she stood up. Leveraging the toe of her left foot on the heel of her right
foot, she pried off a sneaker. With no room to move about, she lost her
balance and automatically grabbed for the nearest handhold.
Matt’s boxers.
There was a small tearing sound as they came off the rod,
bunched inside her closed fist. Lindsay’s heart sank, and she dropped
to her knees.
“Oh, dear.”
“Are you okay?” Melodie’s bare toes
appeared under the hem of the shower curtain. The nails were painted jade
green.
“I’m fine. I slipped.”
“Sorry. There’s not much room in there.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Let me know if you need help.”
“You don’t by chance have a sewing kit handy?”
“A what?”
Lindsay squeezed her eyes shut. Not to staunch the flow
of tears but to contain the hysterical laughter threatening to erupt.
“Nothing. I was joking.”
“Okay.” The toes disappeared.
Lindsay released the breath she’d been holding and
listened to Melodie’s retreating footsteps. Only when the secretary
was a safe distance away did Lindsay unfurl her fingers. Matt’s
boxers fell open, soft, buttery, and slightly faded from multiple washings.
She spread them out on her lap, ostensibly to examine the tear. Matt had
been inside these boxers a short time ago, nothing separating his skin
from the material except a few molecules of air. She tentatively touched
the tear, which wasn’t much, then traced her fingertips down the
length of one leg seam.
The results were immediate and electrifying. A surge of
desire ribboned through her and headed straight to a place low in her
belly. Lindsay’s heart beat hard and fast, knocking into her ribs
like impatient knuckles on a steel door. She inhaled sharply, bit her
bottom lip, and dared to imagine the impossible. She and Matt alone in
a dark, secluded place and her removing the boxers inch by slow, torturous
inch.
“Lindsay, you’re a pervert,” she whispered.
“Handling a man’s underwear and getting a thrill from it.”
Realizing how far over the edge she’d slipped, she
stood and replaced the boxers, neatly hanging them back in the same place.
She wouldn’t tell Matt about the tear. If he even noticed it, he’d
likely make some sort of assumption as to the cause.
What was wrong with her anyway? She had a perfectly good
boyfriend in Joey, yet here she was, fondling another man’s underwear,
drool spilling down her chin. All right, maybe not so perfect. Joey’s
white cotton briefs were sadly uninspiring.
In all fairness, she’d been helping him fold his
clean laundry, not stripping him bare before having sex. That in itself
was a joke since she and Joey did no more than kiss. Ever. And the most
ardent of those kisses hadn’t elicited a fraction of the carnal
response as one small and slightly weird encounter with Matt’s boxers.
Lindsay finished undressing, taking her annoyance out
on her clothes. She ripped off her ball cap, Arizona Diamondbacks tee-shirt,
and gym shorts, then tossed them haphazardly in a corner on top of her
sneakers. She had no concerns that Matt would pick them up when he returned
to change. If he ever learned how Lindsay really felt about him, he’d
choke on his own laughter. No, Matt didn’t go for the stick figure
type. She’d seen enough women flocking around him to know he favored
the three P’s: pretty, perky, and petite.
Glancing down at herself garbed only in the yellow bathing
suit, Lindsay gritted her teeth and thrust the shower curtain aside. One
hour. Sixty little minutes and she’d have performed her civic duty.
Hopefully, Matt would be done by now and she’d miss him in passing.
“Look out dunking tank, here I come. Innocent bystanders,
beware.”
She crept to the front of the booth and poked her head
around the side of the tent. Matt didn’t see her, but she had an
unobstructed view of him sitting on the platform suspended above the tank,
his feet dangling inches from the crystalline blue water. Attached to
a short post beside him was a red and white target. When struck in the
center, a lever released and the platform collapsed like a trapdoor, dumping
the occupant into the water.
“Just you wait!” A buxom blonde in a halter
top and Capri pants stood at the front of the line. She held up a bucket
of baseballs. “I’ve got a dozen chances to make this guy fall
for me. And if that’s not enough, I’m buying a dozen more.”
Her remark was met with hoots, hollers, and one or two
jeers.
“Come on, darling,” Matt called out in a teasing
drawl, tilting his head at the target. “Show me what you’ve
got.”
“I’ll show you what I’ve got.”
The woman smiled wickedly at Matt, then at the crowd. “Ladies, this
hot shot is all mine.”
Lindsay didn’t blame the woman. Matt was gorgeous.
She half considered buying her own bucket of baseballs. The surge of desire
returned tenfold, and she had to concentrate to keep from mooning like
a school girl deep in the throes of her first crush.
Sunlight glinted off Matt’s short brown hair, the
damp ends sticking up in spikes across the top of his head. The aviator
sunglasses he wore hid a pair of chocolate brown eyes, dark and delicious
as a thousand-calorie dessert. His well-muscled shoulders and arms defined
male masculinity. Lindsay itched to run her hands up the length of those
arms, collecting the droplets of water clinging to his skin. Then she’d
slide her hands over his...
Thunk!
A baseball missed the target entirely and hit the wall
behind Matt. The woman in the halter top scowled at the target as if it
were surrounded by a force field which deflected oncoming objects.
“Rats.”
“Try again, Suzy,” a friend encouraged.
Suzy did, screwing up her face with determination. Her
next pitch came closer, but not close enough. “Damn!”
“I’m still waiting, darling.” Matt pretended
boredom, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement.
He swung his legs back and forth, drawing Lindsay’s
attention to the fine hair which covered their entire length. She hadn’t
considered body hair a turn-on until the first time she’d seen Matt
in a pair of denim shorts and nothing else. He’d been running laps
around the track at the academy and when finished, came to sit beside
her on the bleachers. She very nearly dropped the manual she’d been
studying. They’d conversed. Well, Matt conversed. Lindsay babbled
and stuttered, unable to take her eyes off him.
He’d said something flirtatious. Flustered, Lindsay
tried to respond, succeeding only in biting her tongue. While she swallowed
a sob and blinked her watery eyes, Cassandra Hughes, another cadet, sashayed
by, shaking her plump, heart-shaped fanny practically in Matt’s
face. He mumbled an excuse and left, following Cassandra. Not that Matt
had been interested in Lindsay anyway. Flirting was as instinctual to
him as swimming upriver to spawn was to salmon. And like the fish’s
annual journey, served as a preliminary to reproduction.
Another thunk from a misfired baseball brought Lindsay
back to the present. Six more baseballs followed in rapid fire succession,
all glancing off the target.
The blonde woman shook her arm, working out the kinks.
“Hmph. I must be getting rusty.”
“Come on, lady,” an anxious customer near
the end of the line hollered. “We ain’t got all day.”
“Cool your jets,” the blonde retorted, then
took aim and fired.
The baseball struck the target dead center. A bell clanged,
and a fountain of water rose in a pillar behind Matt. The blonde and her
friend exchanged high fives, their squeals loud enough to rupture eardrums.
With a loud whump, the platform dropped. Matt plummeted into the tank,
making a giant splash. The spectators cheered.
He popped up from beneath the water a few seconds later,
sunglasses in hand, to a round of applause. With a wave to the blonde,
who blew him a kiss in return, he waded to a stepladder leading out of
the tank. Grasping the handles firmly, he hauled himself up the ladder.
Water sheeted off his back, and his skin glistened in the sunlight. Each
step he took revealed more and more of his torso, then his backside. A
hush fell over the crowd. Matt’s wet trunks clung to his body, outlining
his butt in perfect, mouth-watering detail.
“Turn around,” the blonde yelled.
Matt did when he reached the top rung, and a collective
sigh rose from the audience, Lindsay included. Then he hopped off the
ladder and disappeared behind the wall.
“We’re glad you enjoyed Douse the Flame,”
Melodie’s voice blared from the overhead speaker. “The Glendale
Fire Department wishes to thank you for your generous contributions to
Habitat for Humanity. Firefighter Matthew Callahan would also like to
thank you. He’s finished his shift for the day, but don’t
despair. Next up is firefighter Lindsay Pfeiffer.”
The crowd groaned in unison and immediately dispersed,
with the exception of two customers; a teenaged boy whose overactive hormones
manifested themselves in a severe case of acne and an elderly gentleman
with a walker.
“Lindsay,” Melodie called from the front of
the tank. “You’re up.”
“You can run, but you can’t hide,” Lindsay
mumbled to herself. Determined to make the best of a bad situation, she
plunked her ball cap on her head and thrust out her chest, not that it
made much difference. Pausing long enough to draw a breath, she stepped
out from behind the tank…and ran smack dab into Matt.
He caught her and for one wild, lust-filled moment, held
her against the downy soft mat of curls covering his chest.
“That’s quite a crowd you’ve drawn,”
he said in her ear, then reluctantly pushed her back upright.
* * * *
Matt had spotted Lindsay watching him when he stood on
the top rung of the stepladder. At the sight of her in a bathing suit,
his line of vision narrowed to a pinhole, centering on her legs. Blood
drained from his extremities to pool in his groin. He went from hot and
sweaty to cold and clammy in a matter of seconds. She didn’t see
him, which was just as well. With her emergency medical training, she
might mistake his symptoms for shock and attempt to treat him. Maybe that
wasn’t such a bad idea, he mused. He’d like to be under Lindsay’s
care. Hell, he just plain wanted to be under Lindsay. Naked, and with
her long, luscious legs straddling his waist.
His feet had moved toward her on their own accord. He
lived for this opportunity, dreamed of it twenty-four hours a day, seven
days a week. Now it would become a reality. Lindsay’s legs at close
range. All of them from ten toes to two thighs. No slacks, no shorts,
no socks or shoes. Just miles and miles of skin au natural. Since the
age of thirteen, when he’d peeked into his older sister’s
bedroom window during a slumber party and glimpsed Mary Beth Shoemaker
in a pair of babydoll pajamas, Matt had been a leg man. Unlike Mary Beth,
however, Lindsay’s limbs were the stuff of pure adult male fantasy,
and Matt indulged himself often.
Probably not very smart to be constantly obsessing about
his roommate’s girlfriend.
“S-s-sorry. I d-d-didn’t see you.” Lindsay
stared at the ground and tried to back away.
She was stuttering again. Matt liked it when she stuttered,
liked knowing he was the cause. Whatever her feelings were for Joey, she
wasn’t immune to him, and that pleased him in a way it shouldn’t.
“No problem.” He didn’t lessen his grip
on her arms. If anything, he tightened it. They were close enough to kiss.
And could if he angled his head slightly and lowered his mouth. She had
kissable lips, full and bow-shaped. And short, cinnamon-colored curls
that any red-blooded man with an ounce of testosterone in his system would
like to have spread over his pillow. Or better yet, trail down his stomach.
Matt’s own stomach clenched as a mental picture
filled his mind. Lindsay had no idea of her appeal to the opposite sex.
If she ever figured it out, she’d have suitors crawling over each
other to get to her. And Matt would be right there, fighting for his place
at the head of the line.
Wait. No, he wouldn’t. Lindsay and Joey were dating
and one thing Matt didn’t do was horn in on another guy’s
territory. Especially a friend. But if Lindsay and Joey ever parted ways…well,
then it was every man for himself.
Abruptly, Matt released her. The moment of truth had arrived.
Afraid he’d not withstand the impact of seeing her legs all at once,
he started with her feet. Millimeter by millimeter, he raised his gaze,
taking in her slim, shapely calves, dimpled knees, and endless span of
taut thighs. When he reached the vee where her legs joined, he almost
lost it. Underneath the puckered yellow material of her bathing suit,
he detected the slight mound of her sex. The pot of gold at the end of
a rainbow.
“You’re shivering,” Lindsay said, almost
in a whisper.
Shivering? Hell, he was shaking. “Am I?”
“If you’re cold, I can get you a towel.”
“I’m not cold.” In fact, he was burning
up. In another few seconds, he’d combust. “Did you bring any
sunscreen?” He tapped the tip of her nose with his index finger.
“You don’t want to get burned.”
“No.” She gulped, her green eyes flashing.
“I forgot.”
“I didn’t. Want to borrow mine? I’ll
rub some on your back for you. Get all those hard to reach places, like
under your straps.” She flushed, and Matt grinned.
“No th-thanks. I don’t burn easily.”
“Another time, then.”
“I don’t think so.”
She was wise to decline. He wasn’t the least bit
trustworthy. Only her reluctance, Joey’s friendship, and the fact
they worked together kept him from putting the moves on her. Twice during
the six weeks they attended the academy together he’d made a pass,
hoping she’d respond. She hadn’t, clamming up and retreating
behind an invisible wall instead.
After graduation—his and Lindsay’s, Joey bombed
the oral exam—they went their separate ways, not seeing each other
until nine months later when they were both assigned to Station 156. By
then, Lindsay had a chip on her shoulder the size of a tree trunk and
dating a coworker was out of the question.
Regardless of what progress had been made in the last
two decades, female firefighters still had a difficult time being accepted.
The men didn’t help matters by refusing to cut them any slack. There
were even a few who took perverse pleasure in making certain women’s
lives miserable. It was no wonder Lindsay had become defensive. The toughest
battles she fought were in her own station house, not in the field.
“How’s the studying going?”
“Fine,” she answered cautiously. “How’s
it going for you?”
“Okay, I think. Hard to tell.”
She nodded in agreement. They were both undergoing the
arduous testing process for engineer, along with twenty-two other firefighters.
Competition for the coveted position was fierce, and Matt knew Lindsay
worked twice as hard as the rest of them. A quality he admired in her.
“Guess I’ll see you around then.” He
smiled and because he wanted her to look at him, hooked his finger under
her chin and lifted her face to his.
He shouldn’t have done it. Need flared inside him,
then raged, growing fast and hot as an uncontrolled gasoline fire. Ignoring
the warning bells going off in his head, he skimmed his fingers along
her jaw line, tickling the delicate skin on her neck. She went still,
and her breath caught, but she didn’t retreat. Bad move on her part.
Matt took further liberties he had no business taking by tucking a single
silky curl up inside her ball cap. Then he crossed the line further by
tracing the outline of her ear with the pad of his index finger. Through
sheer force of will, he managed to resist hauling her into his arms and
tasting those Cupid’s bow lips.
“Matt.” She spoke his name on a wisp of air.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what, Lindsay?” Don’t touch
you? Don’t want you? Don’t think about you day and night until
I swear I’m going crazy?
“Don’t tease me.”
“Who said I’m teasing?”
This was lunacy. She was dating his roommate, Joey, and
for reasons that defied logic, they weren’t sleeping together. At
least, Matt didn’t think so. Unlike the guys at the station, Lindsay
didn’t brag about her sex life. And Joey, for all his open friendliness,
kept more to himself since his ex-girlfriend Karyn dumped him last winter.
As rough as the breakup had been for Joey, Matt didn’t
think a previous relationship gone sour was any reason to pass up a new
opportunity. Especially an opportunity like Lindsay. Where else could
a man find a beautiful women with the figure of a super model who not
only tolerated his reckless lifestyle, she embraced it for herself?
If Matt were the one dating Lindsay, he’d do everything
in his power to lure her into his bed. And once he had her there, he wouldn’t
let her leave until he’d loved her in every way imaginable, with
his hands, his mouth, and the part of him that swelled huge and hard,
filling the front of his swim trunks.
“Come on, Lindsay. What’s the hold up?”
Melodie’s voice echoed across the water. Arms crossed under her
ample bosom, she cast an annoyed look their way.
Matt thought he’d better leave before the annoyed
look turned into a suspicious one. Melodie possessed superhuman radar
abilities when it came to detecting possible gossip fodder.
“I need to…to g-g-go. It’s my turn in
the dunking tank.”
Reluctantly, he dropped his hand, already missing her
warmth. “Have fun.”
“See you tomorrow at work.” She stepped sideways,
then past him.
Matt turned around so he could watch her walk away and
let his gaze linger. Viewing her long legs from the back was every bit
as enjoyable as from the front. By the time she climbed to the top of
the ladder, his entire body was rigid with hunger.
Joey must be a saint. Matt sure wasn’t, not by a
long shot. And if Lindsay ever gave the slightest indication she preferred
him over Joey, he’d oblige her in a heartbeat.
Reviews For
PLAYING WITH FIRE by Cathy McDavid
PLAYING WITH FIRE indulges your senses in all those fantasies
about firefighters while at the same time, pointing out that there are
women in this male dominated occupation that are just as deserving of
our respect and admiration as all the men. Lindsay's learned to cover
up many of her feminine traits in order to fit in. Working at an emotionally
draining profession, she doesn't even allow herself to cry where she could
be seen. Matt knows how hard Lindsay has to work to fit in, however, he
doesn't realize how hard she still has to work to get the same 'pat on
the back' as he would simply because he's male. PLAYING WITH FIRE is full
of sexual tension, heart-tugging events, larger than life characters,
and emotional upheaval that all combine to form a very sweet story that'll
leave you dreaming about finding a firefighter all your own.
Reviewed by Chrissy Dionne Rating 4 ROMANCE JUNKIES
"Playing with Fire is an emotional and strong look
at the challenges female firefighters have to go through just to be able
to do their job. Lindsay is a very strong and appealing woman. She’s
feminine but knows she has to hide those facets of herself in order to
be considered one of the guys. It is only with Matt that she is able to
let her guard down and be herself, firefighter persona and all. In Lindsay,
Matt sees his bachelor days ending. He takes it with a grace and charm
that one might not expect out of a man purported to be a bit of a playboy,
but Ms. McDavid makes Matt a man to be admired as he deals with pressures
from the job and his family life. In Lindsay’s arms, he finds solace
and the chance to let down his own guard. He doesn’t have to be
the tough, unstoppable firefighter; he can be a man who has worries and
problems just like every other man out there. Together, Matt and Lindsay
make an unbeatable team and their relationship proves to be a scintillating
love story that will have you anxious to find out how they resolve their
problems to finally earn their chance at happiness."
Reviewed by: Sarah 4 Angels, Fallen Angel Review
"PLAYING WITH FIRE indulges your senses in all those fantasies about
firefighters while at the same time, pointing out that there are women in
this male dominated occupation that are just as deserving of our respect
and admiration as all the men. Lindsay’s learned to cover up many
of her feminine traits in order to fit in. Working at an emotionally draining
profession, she doesn’t even allow herself to cry where she could
be seen. Matt knows how hard Lindsay has to work to fit in, however, he
doesn’t realize how hard she still has to work to get the same ‘pat
on the back’ as he would simply because he’s male. PLAYING WITH
FIRE is full of sexual tension, heart-tugging events, larger than life characters,
and emotional upheaval that all combine to form a very sweet story that’ll
leave you dreaming about finding a firefighter all your own."
By Romance Junkies Reviewer: Chrissy Dionne Blue Ribbon Rating: 4
"Cathy McDavid’s Playing with Fire is a touching, sexy, funny
romance. The affection between Lindsay and Matt, even before the affair
begins is easy to see. Once, the affair begins the heat index skyrockets,
leaving me one choice, awarding this story a heat level of orgasmic. The
battle Lindsay must fight to be accepted by the men in her department
is depicted realistically as she faces the open antagonism of one specific
man. A female firefighter, what is next, a woman running for President
of the United States of America? The sex is arousing, unpredictable and
evolves naturally as the book moves along. This book is a definite hit
and it has a couple worth rooting for. I give it my stamp of approval
and advise others to read it."
P. Grant
Just Erotic Romance Reviews Rating 4/5 Heat Level: O
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