Fire In The Mix

By Cynthia Morgan

PAST: Fire Meets Ice
He looked familiar, but why? Gabriel Savage exploded onto the scene taking lingerie manager/wannabe clothing designer Veronica Hunter by surprise. The rogue who had claimed her innocence and forever changed her life was back as the same sexy, charming, egotistical rock star. Except—something about him was different. Could he have changed?

PRESENT: Slow Burn
Gabriel had come face to face with a beautiful ice princess and he was shocked at her obvious disdain for him. He wasn't used that. Most women found him irresistible—eagerly hopping into his bed and claiming their undying love. This one was different somehow. She was a challenge and she seemed to know him, but he didn't know who she was, and worse—she wouldn't tell him.

FUTURE: Blazing A Trail
Trying to fight, but ultimately losing, their magnetic pull towards each other, fires that had lain dormant were now blazing hot and unquenchable. But when heartbreak, jealousy and doubts collide with their raw, undeniable and overwhelming passion, can they put aside their past and mix fire with love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cynthia Batten
• Release date: Apr 19, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301471508

Cynthia Morgan

Cynthia Morgan is a contented wife and mother of two teenage boys and lives in the Portland, Oregon area. Having inherited her love of the written word from her grandmother and mother, she's been writing since age twelve.

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FIRE IN THE MIX

Copyright © 2010 Cynthia Morgan

Smashwords Edition/Copyright 2010 Cynthia Morgan

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PROLOGUE

I know what you need. You need to go with me to the Chartreuse Envy concert on Saturday, Darcy said nonchalantly. She was sad for her friend’s suffering, but the timing couldn’t be better to tell her the good news.

Ronnie wiped the tears from her eyes. She had just broken up with her high school boyfriend, Toby. It seemed like a good idea at the time—he was more wimp than bad boy, her usual type, but now she was heartbroken, remembering the good times, conveniently forgetting the bad. Her mouth gaped open at her friend’s suggestion.

What are you talking about?

I just won two tickets to C.E.’s L.A. show and backstage passes from their fan club. Isn’t that the most awesome thing ever?!

Ronnie was speechless.

You can pick your mouth up from the ground now, sweetie, Darcy said, laughing.

"I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe it! Are you serious?" Now that she found her voice, the words came out in a jumbled mess of exclamations.

Darcy laughed harder. Yes, it’s true. I am the World’s Best best friend.

"You are!" Ronnie threw her arms around her; all thoughts of her ex banished. She was going to see her favorite band in the entire world, Chartreuse Envy! Her heart pounded, her pulse raced and she thought she just might faint. The lead singer, Gabriel Savage, was her ultimate fantasy—hot, sexy and so gorgeous. She drooled at the thought of seeing him in concert, but was practically salivating thinking about meeting him in person! It was every teenage girl’s dream and she would be living it!

But by the time Friday arrived, she was sick as a dog, throwing up every hour. She assured Darcy that it was just the twenty-four hour stomach flu bug that was going around and she was sure she would feel fine, but just in case, maybe she should ask their mutual friend, Marianne instead.

"But you must come! Darcy protested. I need you to drive. My car’s busted and Marianne doesn’t have one!"

Oh, thanks. Is a ride all I am to you? Ronnie teased.

Well, yeah, kinda. Darcy teased back. "Just kidding. Of course, I want you to come. You have to come. I can’t sing ‘Fake’ or ‘Just Because’ without you! And what about Gabriel? There is no way I’m going backstage with anyone other than you. I don’t know of a bigger fan that you!"

Ronnie laughed. She didn’t either. She was a freak for the man and the band, but her stomach had other ideas. I’ve gotta go! I’ll call you later. She made yet another trip to the bathroom, but this time she had tears in her eyes. She couldn’t believe she was going to miss the event of her lifetime because of her stupid stomach!

But by the next morning, she felt ten times better and called to give Darcy the good news.

All right, Cinderella, Darcy smiled, happy she wouldn’t have to take her annoying kid sister. Just remember that I must be home by midnight or my mom just might turn me into a pumpkin.

Ronnie laughed. No problem as long as I get the glass slipper.

Are you kidding me? Darcy replied. You’ll get the prince so you’ll definitely get the glass slipper.

Seriously though, I think Gabriel will be surrounded by too many screaming girls to notice me. He probably won’t even glance in my direction.

I’ll make sure he does.

Promise me you won’t embarrass me—please, Ronnie pleaded.

All right, Darcy relented. But I’m completely confident that you will be the princess that wears that slipper.

I’d rather be Juliet to his Romeo, but I’m sure it’s all just a fairytale anyway.

ONE

"Fire meets ice in a fiery burst

Trying to melt its icy walls at first

The flames threaten to possess me again

But I must resist the heat or get burned…"

Bags in hand, his last stop was to buy something for Vanessa. Just then he looked up to see the Vanessa’s Vanity sign glaring at him. Interesting. They had the same name. He ventured in to check it out.

The sweet scent of floral and citrus wafted through the store accosting his senses. Classical music floated airily around him as women filtered in and out, browsing through the panties and bras, chattering about the latest styles, and if Vanessa carried a bra large enough to support their double Ds.

He glanced toward their chests, and realized that many of the women were probably pumped with silicone. As for him, he liked old fashioned, real breasts. It didn’t hurt if they were double D’s, but real was the main criteria. Unfortunately, Vanessa didn’t fit into that category, so he had to endure her—as he heard a deejay once call them—circus boobs.

He made a beeline towards a tall salesperson with long, shiny golden brown hair. My God, she was tall. With heels, she couldn’t be more than two or three inches shorter than him. He noticed she wore a tight brown skirt with a matching suit jacket that closed with one button over a white lacy camisole. He also couldn’t help noticing that the low neckline showed off her cleavage. Not too much, but cleavage all the same, and her breasts looked real.

May I help you, sir? she asked, frowning when he did not meet her gaze.

Uh, I… I don’t know. He answered, flustered, quickly raising his eyes to her face. And what a beautiful face it was: a minimal amount of make-up, flawless skin, soft gold-brown eyes, high cheekbones, and luscious, pouty lips. He could lose himself in that face and those breasts—

Well, let me know if I may help you find something. She began to walk away. Men. She didn’t mind them glancing at her cleavage, but to linger was unacceptable, even if this particular man was kind of cute.

Honestly, I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I don’t know what kind of lingerie she likes, he admitted awkwardly.

She turned around. Let me guess, it’s for your girlfriend? Yeah, he was cute. No, more like sexy or a hot tamale as her friend Marianne would say. He had the appearance of a rocker with long strands of his layered blond-streaked light brown hair falling over his forehead. Cropped slightly shorter on the sides and bottom, it just grazed the top of his cotton khaki button-down shirt. His dark blue jeans were tight, hugging his fit curves everywhere. Yep, he was a hottie all right, but why did he seem familiar?

He smiled. Now she was checking him out. Well, we’ve only been dating for a couple of weeks. Do you think it’s too soon to buy her lingerie?

Well, it depends. What’s the occasion? A tea? A ball? Sarcasm rang in her head.

Well, it’s her birthday, and it happens to be on Valentine’s Day. Oh, wow, the double whammy—a birthday and a holiday. And not just any holiday, it was supposedly the most romantic holiday of the year. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. He seemed the type who could take care of himself.

Ah, I see. Well, certain types of lingerie might be appropriate. I wouldn’t go for anything too risqué though. Even if you want to buy the sluttiest thing in the store, you horn dog. Something about him brought out her cat claws.

Oh, like this? He grabbed a red lace bustier off a rack nearby.

She laughed. Yeah, exactly what not to get her. The guy had a sense of humor. She liked that. But his familiarity still haunted her. Even his voice was familiar. Who was he?

What about this? He grabbed a hanger with a black lacy see-through teddy on it.

He’s persistent, too… She shook her head, trying to hide a smile. Again, inappropriate. Come with me. She walked towards the back of the store, and he followed like a lost puppy dog.

Now, back here, we have things that your girlfriend may like. Do you know her size? Probably not. They never do.

He shook his head. You’re asking me?

She smiled. Well, is she smaller or larger than me?

He perused her figure, liking what he saw, hesitating longer than he should. I’m not sure.

Shocker, she thought. Either he’s an idiot or he doesn’t want to admit his girlfriend is fat. Why was she assaulting this man in her thoughts? This wasn’t like her.

Well, why don’t you look through these racks, and let me or my staff know if we may be of assistance. She started to walk away for the second time. Something about him repelled her and attracted her at the same time, and she didn’t know what is was. It didn’t matter though because she didn’t have time to play games if he wasn’t serious about buying. She was the manager with a store to run after all. It was Thursday, two days before Valentine’s Day, one of their busiest shopping days of the year.

No, wait, don’t leave. For some reason he was drawn to her and it was more than her hot body and gorgeous face. I’m guessing she’s—about your size. She was pretty slippery. He wondered if she was running away from something. Clearly, she either didn’t know who he was, or didn’t care. She was something new for him: a challenge.

Oh, okay. Let me pick out a couple of things. Then you can choose. She weeded through the rack of negligees, baby dolls and teddies until she found a couple of less provocative slips which was Vanessa Vanity’s version of a nightgown.

Are you serious? You want her to wear those? He scoffed at her choices. They were pretty; they just didn’t reveal anything.

Well, what did you have in mind? We’ve already established that something like this is—or should be—off-limits. She pointed towards the display of garter belts and stockings.

Yeah, but it’s what I wish I could give her, the ‘horn dog’ in him thought. I guess the white one is all right.

She held up a white silk slip in response. It had spaghetti straps and fell to just above the knee in billowy folds. Noting his hesitancy, she added, I think it will look lovely on her.

Sure, whatever, he mumbled. What did it matter? He intended to yank it off in two seconds anyway.

Will this be cash, check or charge? she asked at the cash register a few minutes later, almost enjoying their little banter. Almost. There was something about him that made her wary.

Charge. Here’s my Visa. He handed his credit card to her. She glanced down at the name.

Gabriel Savage? Gabriel Savage! Her heart picked up several beats as she asked, Are you the Gabriel Savage from the band Chartreuse Envy?

An amused smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Now she knew who he was. Let the games begin… I am the one and the same.

Shock and horror played on her face. No wonder he’d looked familiar! No wonder she’d been cursing him in her head! No wonder he looked like a rock star! He was a rock star. Lead singer of Chartreuse Envy and lead letdown of her life. How could she have not seen it before? He looked pretty much the same, except older, of course. But she knew why she hadn’t instantly recognized him—she’d made a conscious decision to forget he’d ever existed a long time ago.

He stared at her quizzically. Her reaction was not what he’d expected. Maybe she really didn’t care who he was. No, she looked as though she hated who he was. It was definitely unexpected and more of a challenge than he’d anticipated.

What’s wrong?

Oh, nothing. She played it off. She wouldn’t let him get to her, or worse yet, show him that he was getting to her. She looked down and swiped the card, trying to keep it together. She had done her best to block him out of her mind all these years, but now the memories flooded back.

One of her sales assistants, Lorna, who was standing next to her ringing up another customer, glanced over at her. She noted her boss’ pale face and trembling hands. Are you okay?

She glanced over at her, nodded, and gave her a get back to work look. Lorna quickly turned back to assist the customer who was oblivious to the entire exchange.

Ignoring the knot in her stomach, she handed Gabriel his card back, and placed a pen on top of the credit card slip on the counter. Sign here, please. She watched as he scribbled his name. She couldn’t believe he was standing in front of her. She couldn’t believe that he still had the same effect on her after all these years… Oh crap! This is not what she wanted. All her hard work to eradicate all memory of him gone down the drain in a single moment, the moment he decided to walk into her store.

Focusing on the task of wrapping his purchase in tissue paper, but keenly aware of his white-hot inquiring stare, she placed it, as well as the credit card slip and a gift box, in a printed Vanessa’s Vanity bag. I’m also including a gift box and tissue paper in your bag. She handed it to him, trying to steady her voice, I hope she likes it. Good God, would her heart stop beating out of her chest?

Thanks. He accepted the bag warily. So, is everything okay? You look upset about something. He couldn’t imagine why the mention of his name would have caused that. Usually people are thrilled to discover who he is. Maybe she hated his music. Or just hated him. But why? What could he have done to her?

Everything’s just fine, she lied unconvincingly. Have a good day. Move along before I do something stupid like tell you off or cry or both…

There it was. The brush-off he’d never received before. How dare she? And what was she not telling him? He sensed that there was some history between, but what? Wanting to press the issue, but given her attitude and seeing the long line of customers behind him, he would leave her alone—for now.

She pulled down the metal gate at the store’s entrance and bent down to lock it.

Okay, girls, it’s time to go—finally. It was 9:45 and her dogs were barking. Wearing three-inch heels during a ten-hour workday was killer.

The four women made their way to the back of the store.

Let me see your purses, please. The salesgirls let her inspect the contents of their purses, she flipped the switch that turned off the lights, and opened the heavy metal door for them. They poured into the parking lot saying their goodnights while she closed and locked the door behind them.

As she headed towards her black Acura, thankful Lorna had not inquired about her reaction to Gabriel frickin’ Savage, she saw a man walking towards her.

Hold it right there. I have pepper spray and I’m not afraid to use it, she said defensively, reaching inside her purse. Recently there had been reports of suspicious activity in the mall parking lot, and she’d purchased the item ‘just in case’, but prayed she’d never have to use it.

Relax, I’m harmless. He laughed nervously, holding up his hands in surrender.

Recognition dawned, but relief that he wasn’t a serial killer was short-lived. Harmless? Harmless? It was laughable really.

"Oh, it’s you. Let’s catch up later, shall we?" Or not.

See, I don’t know what that means. Catch up? Have we met before today?

She sighed. The fact that you have to ask just makes me more upset. Continuing to her car, she pressed the button on her key ring, which unlocked her car with two beeps. But Gabriel beat her there, leaning against the driver’s side door, arms folded across his broad chest, blocking her entrance.

She sighed again, her frustration escalating. Are you holding me hostage now? Like I said, I have pepper spray—

Look, he interrupted. If we met before and I don’t remember, I’m sorry. In my line of work, I meet a lot of people and I try to remember them all, but it’s almost impossible.

I’m not one of your idolizing groupies or fans, Gabe. She spat at him. Not anymore anyway…

Wow, such hostility. He must have hit a raw nerve. What did I do to deserve that? Was I a jerk to you?

You could say that. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, which were heaving in anger.

Well, don’t keep me in suspense here. I drove around the past two hours trying to figure out why you went from pleasant to pissed after you found out my name. His eyes swept the length of her. You’d think I’d remember that face and that body, but I don’t.

Don’t patronize me, Gabriel Savage. I’m not in the mood. It’s not my fault you don’t remember. Although in truth she would have been surprised if he had remembered.

His mouth fell open in surprise. You’re not going to tell me, are you?

Nope.

Why not? What did I do that was so terrible?

She raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

Let me guess, you’re not going to tell me that either.

Right again.

He shook his head. Had he really met her before, or was she just messing with his head?

Okay, fine. But if you’re not going to tell me how we met, can you at least tell me your name? Maybe I’ll recognize it.

Veronica. Not that he’d know her by that name. Hunter. Not that he’d know her by that name either.

Well, it was nice to meet you, Veronica—again. I hope I’ll remember how we met, although maybe I don’t want to if it was such a negative experience. His mind was racing. Veronica? Out of all women he had met over the years with his band or otherwise (and it numbered in the thousands), he could not recall a Veronica. Of course, he couldn’t possibly remember all of their names. Or maybe he never knew her name. That was possible, too, but he sensed their connection was stronger than mere acquaintances.

Gabriel sighed and moved away from the car door. Can I call you sometime?

He wasn’t ready to give up just yet. Maybe she’d be more amenable over the phone.

Goodnight, Gabriel. Veronica climbed into the car and closed the door. The roar of the engine startled him and he jumped back, watching as she raced through the parking lot, then within seconds out of sight.

Well, Veronica Hunter, I know where you work, and I’m not giving up that easily, he thought. He didn’t want to appear as a stalker, but hell, short of Googling her, what other choice did he have? He didn’t, he reasoned, but Google was a good idea. In ten strides, Gabriel was at his car, inside and grabbing his cell phone. He signed onto the Internet and typed Veronica Hunter into the search engine.

He didn’t want to look up her address or phone number—that would be crossing a line—he just wanted to find out more about her. Maybe then he’d remember her. Or not.

What’s your name? Gabriel asked.

Ronnie Alexander, she gushed, suppressing the urge to twirl a strand of her long hair around her finger. In her wildest dreams, she never imagined she’d be sitting with her favorite band, and her favorite lead singer would be flirting with her. This was a man who had played the starring role in many of her fantasies.

Ronnie. What a cool name.

Gabriel put his arm around her, and her best friend, Darcy grabbed her camera and snapped a photo. Ronnie was ecstatic, but nervous from Gabriel’s attentiveness, and she quickly gulped down the drink he had given her. Barely 18 and not being much of a drinker before, she was now pleasantly intoxicated and aroused.

Gabriel leaned over and whispered in her ear, So, Ronnie, do you want to come up to my room and party with me? He was 20, but already experienced way beyond his years—sexually anyway.

Ronnie had never wanted anything more,