Flirting With Fire (Hometown Heroes)
Read Flirting With Fire (Hometown Heroes) Online
Authors: Kyra Jacobs
COVER COPY
Look, touch, but don’t fall in
love.
Massage therapist Liz Williams
lives by one rule: never date a client. A rule she’s never had trouble
following until she lays hands on fireman playboy Torrunn MacKay. Trouble is,
Liz’s sexy new client is dating her arch-rival at work…and has a strange habit
of appearing just before the fire alarm sounds.
Firefighter Torrunn MacKay has got
it made: killer job, downtown condo with a view, and hot blonde girlfriend with
no more desire to tie the knot than he has. But the surprise attraction he
feels toward his new masseuse is threatening to change all that. And what’s
with the string of fires that seem to follow her everywhere?
Can Liz mind her table manners and
keep Torrunn at arms’ length? Will Torrunn put his commitment fears aside to
keep Liz safe? More than hearts will be in jeopardy when the two start Flirting
with Fire.
CONTENT WARNING: Beware of darkened
rooms, delicious fire fighters, and desperate pyromaniacs.
HIGHLIGHT
“I had nothing
to do with this.”
Torrunn watched
me pace back and forth across the interrogation room, his look grim. “Nobody’s
saying you did.”
“Then why did I
get hauled down here? I should be back at the spa—I’ve got a regular at three
o’clock who’s going to be
pissed
.”
“Relax, Liz,” he
said from his seat at the room’s lone table. “They’re just going to ask you a
few simple questions. See if you saw anything. And you heard Xavier—he’s
covering your appointment.”
“He shouldn’t
have to. Me, having to come down here? It’s going to kill any trust I’ve built
up at the spa, and it’s not fair. I didn’t set the stupid dumpster on fire.
Heck, I’m scared of fires. I hide inside every Fourth of July for fear of
getting hit by falling bottle rockets.” I stopped pacing and ran a hand through
my hair. “You believe me,” I asked, spinning to face him. “Don’t you?”
He smoothed an
amused grin from his face and nodded. “Yes, I do. Though, you were a little
flustered when you got into the massage room.”
I snorted. “Not
because of anything going on outside.”
“Oh?” Torrunn
leaned forward in his seat, eyes bright with interest. “What could possibly
have had you so frazzled?”
Why
had
I
been all worked up as I raced into the building? Was it really because I was
running late, or because of who was waiting for me on the table…?
Flirting With Fire
A
Hometown Heroes Novel
by
Kyra Jacobs
Thank
you for purchasing this book.
CONTENTS
To
Dorinda, who has saved me from my aches
and
pains—both physical and mental—countless times over the years.
And
hopefully, for many years to come.
CHAPTER 1
It all began
with Herb Meyer’s happy ending.
Oh, sure, I’d
heard murmurings at our post office. Dismissed stares from neighboring motorists
at the gas station. Gossip is, after all, what keeps things interesting in
small town U.S.A. This rumor, though, sounded a bit far-fetched. Even for Autumn Lake, Indiana.
But as I stood outside
the back entrance of Sally’s Salon, purse in one hand and an immobile doorknob in
the other, my jaw fell slack. A lone, white paper hung from the door at
eye-level, its message written with a thick black Sharpie.
CLOSED
INDEFINITELY
.
I withdrew my
hand from the knob and stared at the words in disbelief. Closed? I needed this
job! How else was I supposed to build up both my client list
and
the
nest egg I’d been working on for years—a nest egg I was nearly ready to turn
into Relaxation by Liz?
“I
warned
her.”
I spun around
and spied Mrs. Markum dropping a garbage bag into her misshapen aluminum trashcan.
One of our town’s biggest—and
oldest
—busybodies, Gertrude Markum lived
in a tiny house remnant of the 1940’s directly behind the salon. Like most
mornings, she was still dressed in her usual pre-noon attire: pastel house
smock, knee-high ‘nude’ stockings (two shades too dark), and pink slippers.
“Oh?”
“Several times,
in fact. Half the town knew what she was up to. Honestly, Elizabeth, are you
really that clueless?”
I folded both
arms across my chest. “No. I just can’t believe Sally would stoop to that level.”
“Well, she did. Last
night, ‘round eight o’clock, Herbert Meyer came trotting out of that door with
an ear-to-ear grin on his face and adjusted his fly.” Mrs. Markum’s face contorted
as if she’d been sprayed by a skunk. “Despicable. Officer Smith was in the lot
waiting for him. I guess someone had to stop this madness before our whole town
went to Hell in a hand basket.”
“You called the
cops on Sally?”
“Heavens, no! It’s
not every day I get to enjoy a good scandal, and this was the biggest one I’ve
seen in years. Even bigger than that naïve little housewife over on Third coming
forward last month about Sally’s husband and his so-called
insurance
house calls.”
I cringed. Poor
Sally. She’d been heartbroken when she heard the news. Even more so when Dick
Stinson hadn’t denied the claim. Apparently she’d found her own method of
retribution.
“No,” Mrs. Markum
continued, and cast an evil eye at the house across the alley from her own. “It
was probably Ethel Roberts, the old cow. She’s always ruinin’ everyone else’s
fun.”
With that she shuffled
away, leaving me nothing to do but stare at the sign taped to the salon’s backdoor.
And as my shock began to wear off, despair gave way to a new emotion:
Hope.
* * * *
“Any luck?”
I looked up from
the classified section of our local rag and watched my best friend drop into
the seat across from me. Sarah Collins was dressed for comfort in frayed,
hip-hugging jeans and a purple tee sporting the silhouette of a lion. Her
thick, golden locks were pulled back from her face, a look that accentuated her
forever-youthful appearance.
“No.” I scowled,
took a long drink of my Michelob Ultra, then returned it to the table with a
frustrated
clunk
. At least, that’s what I hoped it sounded like. “What
am I going to do?”
Sarah stretched
a hand across the gingham vinyl tablecloth to swipe a menu wedged between our
salt and pepper shakers. “I don’t know. Find a job where the owner isn’t
propositioning half the men in town?”
“Very funny.” I lowered
my voice and leaned forward on my elbows. “If I’d known Sally was going to
explore
that
side of things, I would have left a long time ago. I don’t
want to be associated with a scandal like this—it could ruin my reputation!”
Sarah shot me a
flat look over the top of her menu. “Liz, you’re a masseuse, for Christ’s sake.
Everyone already assumes that’s what you’re doing behind closed doors.”
“For the
millionth time, I’m a
massage
therapist
, not a masseuse. There’s
a science to this, and I have the degree to prove it.”
We’d been having
this same argument since I returned home from Ball State with degree in hand.
The time away at college had done wonders for me—helped me develop my
independence, my confidence. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
Sarah, on the
other hand, had scoffed at the notion of leaving town and enrolled at a nearby
school of cosmetology instead. She stayed in Autumn Lake, learning the proper
techniques for buzz cuts and highlights, all while living at home with her
parents. Once her two-year program ended, she married her high school
sweetheart, Ron, and moved across town. Autumn Lake was the only place she’d
ever called home, and she couldn’t understand why I wasn’t as happy here as
she’d always been.
Maybe if I had a
loving husband and beautiful kids of my own, I would be.
Maybe.
“Call it what
you want. But when you spend all day in darkened rooms with people wearing
little to no clothing, rumors are bound to pop up.”
“You know I
don’t give a damn about rumors. Besides, all that time in the dark pays my
rent. Unfortunately,” I said, closing the newspaper, “it doesn’t look like I’m
going to find a new job anywhere around here.”
“W-what are you
saying?”
I drew in a deep
breath, counted to three, then let it out in a gust. “That it’s time I stop
delaying the inevitable. Face it, there’s no future for me here. And now that
the salon is gone…”
“But what about
your plan? All that money you’ve been saving since you started at Sally’s?
Surely you’ve got enough by now to lease a good spot?”
“I don’t want to
lease. I wanna buy my own place, build up some equity. And I
was
getting
close this spring, but then my car died, remember? Besides,” I said, looking
around at the dozen or so simple folk eating alongside us at the Four Corners
Cafe, “I really don’t know if this town can offer me enough clientele to
sustain a viable business.”
My best friend’s
jaw dropped open. A shadow fell across the table.
“Well, what do
we have here?”
Crap. I’d hoped
to be further into this conversation before her reinforcement arrived. Now I’d
have two friends to convince my plan was for the best, instead of just one.
Sarah snapped
her mouth shut and scowled at me. “She’s at it again, Mitch.”
“Oh?” His pale
blue eyes shifted from hers to mine. “Which is it this time: plotting to dump
another boyfriend, or threatening to leave for the big city?”
I couldn’t help
but grin as I looked away and took another swig of my beer. Mitch Greenwood,
the café’s owner, knew me all too well. Had for a long time. A handsome guy,
Mitch was tall and lean with a wicked high metabolism. Could eat all day and
not gain a pound, the big jerk. He’d been two grades ahead of me and his cousin
Sarah at school, and had assumed the role of big brother years ago.
“Threatening to
leave again,” Sarah said, her knuckles slowly fading from white now that she’d
found an ally.
“Really. And
would this have something to do with Sally closing up shop?”
“Of course it
does.”
Mitch slid into
the booth beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Sorry about your
job, Lizzie.”
“Thanks, Mitch.
I appreciate it. Unfortunately, there isn’t squat in the classifieds. I may end
up having to move in with one of you.”
He gave my
shoulders a squeeze. “Party every night at my place, baby.”
“Like I’d let
you move in with
him
instead of me. You’ll find something, Liz, just
give it time.” Sarah shifted her gaze to the chalkboard propped on an easel by
the front entrance. “What’s the special tonight, Cuz?”
“Tuna on rye
with a side of coleslaw.”
“Oooh,” she
purred. “I’m gonna have that. With an extra side of fries. And a chocolate
malt.”
“Wow, someone
must be starving. I’ll see if I can’t find Carla and send her over to get your
orders. Want me to grab you a Coors Light while you wait?” Mitch asked.
“No, thank you,”
she said in a small, sing-songy voice and buried her head back into the menu.
Uh, oh. Mitch
and I exchanged a look. Only three times had she turned down a beer on one of
our rare weeknights out. And I know the count was three because that’s the
exact number of children she and Ron had.
But before either
of us had a chance to pry, voices rose in a booth across the way. Mitch excused
himself, then hurried away to smooth over what sounded like an order gone awry.
I shifted my gaze back to Sarah, who was still ducked behind the menu in an
obvious attempt to avoid eye contact with me.
Oh yeah, there
was definitely another Collins on the way. Which meant someone’s hormones were
about to go haywire. And that my job to convince her it was finally time for me
to escape Autumn Lake just got a whole lot harder.
* * * *
I got up bright
and early the next morning, started a pot of half-caff, and set about
researching jobs online. No way was I going to take Sarah’s advice and give it
time for something to come open. Around here, there was a ninety-nine percent chance
any job that did come up wouldn’t be in my line of work. And that was exactly
what I was counting on.
