Flirting with Fire: Hometown Heroes, #2

By Kyra Jacobs

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 firefighters, and desperate pyromaniacs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kyra Jacobs
• Release date: Jun 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9780997671902

Book preview

FLIRTING WITH FIRE

a Hometown Heroes novel

by

Kyra Jacobs

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Kyra Jacobs

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews.

Proofread by Julia Gibbs

Cover Design by Kyra Jacobs

First electronic publication: July 2014

Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

EPILOGUE

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Other Novels by Kyra Jacobs:

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 1940’s bungalow 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.

Unfortunately, from what I could find on our regional internet job sites, no one within a hundred mile radius needed a massage therapist. Determined not to give up, I did a search on all the spas and salons in Huntington, Columbia City and Fort Wayne. Surely someone needed my help. The Fort had by far the largest selection to choose from, so that’s where I set my sights for a day of cold calling.

Ah, Fort Wayne. The ‘big city’, as Sarah and Mitch loved to call it. To the rest of the world, it probably wasn’t very big at all. And truthfully, I’d never found its size all that intimidating. But the idea of finally stepping outside my comfort zone left me feeling conflicted.

Could I handle such a radical change in environments? Trade my quiet, historic streets for bustling concrete thoroughfares? Go from knowing every local, to being just another face in the crowd?

An email alert pinged on my computer, followed by the brief partial glimpse of an email. My cell phone bill. And there was my answer. I needed money to pay my bills, and I’d be darned if I was going to dip into my nest egg again.

So I showered, tried my best to tame the unruly mop on my head, and brushed on some makeup for good measure. Then I pulled on a flattering teal V-neck sweater, some bootcut jeans, and comfortable heels that I knew wouldn’t kill my feet if I had to walk more than a block or two. It felt odd, though, getting so done up at this hour. Most weekdays, I worried little about my appearance. One of the benefits of working behind closed doors in darkened rooms.

I headed into Fort Wayne late morning, business cards at the ready. While I drove, I rehearsed my elevator speech over and over. Hello, my name is Liz Williams. Yadda, yadda, yadda. By the time I reached the first stop on my list, I was nearly bursting at the seams with excitement.

Unfortunately, they weren’t hiring. Or the next place. Or the one after that. In fact, nowhere in Fort Wayne did anyone seem to need a massage therapist. Maybe the job search websites had really been right.

Tired, thirsty, and dejected, I decided to make a pit stop before hitting the last business on my list. I swung into a gas station off U.S. 24 downtown, filled up my tank, then made my way inside to pay and grab a bottled water. The refrigerated section was, of course, in the far, opposite corner—who designs these places, anyway? With a sigh I wove through the aisles of junk food and other convenience store sundries, intent on snagging a nice, tall Dasani.

I rounded a tall display of Doritos that stood at the end of my aisle and reached for the cooler’s glass door. But instead of feeling the cool metal of its handle slide into my grip, my hand collided with a body that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. A very solid body, with rock hard abdominal muscles.

Oh! I yanked my hand back, mortified. I’m so sorry!

A deep chuckle greeted my ears, and my gaze shifted to Mr. Abs of Steel’s face. His full, daydream-worthy lips were drawn into an amused grin, which competed for attention with the five o’clock shadow dusting his cheeks and jawline. His eyes, the color of melted chocolate and fringed with dark, jealousy-invoking lashes, were now focused squarely on me.

I guess I should have been paying closer attention to where I was going, he said, his voice deep and rich. And if anyone was lurking in the aisles.

No, really, I should have looked before I, you know. I motioned toward the glass case and struggled to put together a complete sentence. Damn that sexy stubble. It’s just...been a long day.

Sorry to hear that. He glanced toward the shop’s front window, and the teasing grin smoothed from his face. Well, don’t let me hold you up.

He stepped aside while I grabbed my drink, then took a Diet Dr. Pepper for himself. We both headed toward the cashier, an awkward silence ensued. At least, I thought it felt awkward. Him being all gorgeous and me being all...me.

Another customer stood at the checkout counter, hemming and hawing about which scratch-off lottery tickets to buy. More prolonged awkwardness. I shifted from right foot to left, all too aware of the hunk standing within arm’s reach behind me. The hunk with a bare left hand—not that I’d noticed.

Unable to stand the silence any longer, I decided to turn around and attempt a little small talk. His gaze met mine, curiosity clear in his eyes, and my mind went blank. For the next few heartbeats, I stared at him like a deer in headlights.

His right brow inched upward. In a panic, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

You don’t happen to know where the Spa del Sol is, do you?

Crap, what kind of question was that? He’s a guy—guys don’t pay attention to spa locations. It’s no wonder I stink at finding decent boyfriends...

Sure, it’s over off Wayne and Harrison. You just stay on Jefferson, make a left on Calhoun, and then another left on Washington. The next light will be Harrison – take a right and watch for an open meter spot. It’ll be on the left side of the street.

His was the kind of voice I could listen to all day. Unfortunately, I’d been so focused on his handsome face that I only managed to catch half of what he’d said. Um, okay. So stay on Jefferson... Wait, I thought I was on U.S. 24?

You are. Only, in town it’s called West Jefferson.

The same street has two names?

A smirk tugged at his lips. Darlin’, this street has at least four different names, if you keep going east toward New Haven. Fort Wayne’s famous for naming the same street multiple things. He shrugged. You get used to it.

Thanks, I said. Maybe I will.

Especially if even a fraction of the guys in this city looked half as good as this one. Lord knows I’d run out of options in Autumn Lake. Now all I needed was to land a job and find a reason to stay. I turned back around and said a silent prayer that this last spa on my list might actually need a full-time massage therapist.

CHAPTER 2

I stood outside the closed, tinted-glass door of 201 W. Wayne Street, Suite 2B and drew in a long, slow breath. Calm, must get calm. So what if this was the last spa on my list of Fort Wayne possibilities? I could always go back to Google and search for opportunities in other cities. Or towns. Or go work for Mitch as a waitress. No big deal.

Oh, who the hell was I kidding? I needed this job. Needed it in the worst way. Without a new start in Fort Wayne, I’d have no reason to leave the small town I’d been trapped in most of my life. But me barging into this place and puking my credentials all over its owner wasn’t the best way to make a first impression, either.

At that moment the door opened, and a woman in her mid-fifties stepped out. The sound of an argument taking place deeper within the spa drifted out into the hall. I looked around her as the door swung shut, trying to get a look at the irate conversationalists.

Don’t mind them, dear, she said with a dismissive wave. It’s just Dawn’s hormones again. Xavier’s going to have to learn to let her have her way if he’s ever going to survive the rest of this pregnancy.

With a shake of her head, she continued down the hall. My gaze shifted from her to the door. Could I really handle any more drama?

If it meant securing a paycheck, then that’s exactly what I had to do. Just a few grand more and I’d have enough for my own place, which I vowed would be a zero drama zone. So suck it up, buttercup.

Ignoring the warning alarms going off in my head, I pushed the door back open. The argumentative couple—this Dawn and Xavier, I assumed—stood behind a modest reception desk scowling at each other. Her hands were fisted onto two very pregnant hips, his arms folded across his chest. The instant they spotted me, the scowls smoothed into two warm, albeit forced, smiles. I took that as my cue, and took a few tentative steps into the suite.

Welcome to Spa del Sol, Dawn said in a voice sweet as honey. Her thick, luxurious dark hair was swept up off her neck, and her skin carried that healthy mother-to-be glow. The blue V-neck top she wore brought out the blue in her cornflower eyes. She was stunning, even with her petite stature and swollen belly. Can I help you?

Yes, I—

If you would excuse us for just one more minute, Xavier cut in, not taking his eyes off of Dawn. We have a little matter to resolve.

Dawn turned back to him, sweetness morphing to subtle fury. The customers always come first, she hissed. "Isn’t that your motto?"

His olive complexion flushed scarlet. They do, except when I’m discussing the well-being of my fiancée and our unborn child.

Dawn put her hand up as if to block further comments from him and turned back to me. What’s your name, sweetheart?

Elizabeth. Williams. But you can call me Liz.

Okay, Liz. I’m in need of a second opinion.

"Christ." Xavier ran a large hand through his stylishly shaggy mane.

Shut up, Xavier. Liz, what is it that you do for a living, if you don’t mind me asking?

I...I’m a massage therapist.

Dawn’s eyebrows shot up. Licensed?

Yes. I graduated from Ball State in 2005.

Ah, they’ve got an excellent program down there, she replied.

Will you get on with it? Xavier growled.

She ignored him. Reflexology, too?

Oh yes, I swear by it.

Then would you say if a woman is in her second trimester, with borderline high blood pressure and ankles swelling up like balloons every afternoon, not to mention the sporadic pain that radiates from her sciatic nerve she turned to face Xavier, that reflexology alone is not the answer? Perhaps she shouldn’t be spending so much time on her feet as well?

Well, I’m no doctor but—

For the last time, Dawn, Xavier said. "I never said you couldn’t rest! This is our child, we’re talking about. But we can’t just go canceling all your appointments without finding you a suitable replacement first."

Whatever confusion Dawn had previously had about Xavier’s intentions suddenly cleared. She threw her arms around him and squealed in delight. "Oh, darling! I knew you’d come around!"

Xavier hugged her back, shaking his head at the ceiling as he did so. Welcome to the land of constant mood swings, buddy. I’d been through three rounds of this with Sarah now. Eventually you learn to give them what they want in order to preserve your own sanity.

Someday I hoped to get the chance to be on the receiving end of all that grace myself.

Dawn reached up, pulled his face to hers, and kissed him full on the lips. And it was no short kiss. In fact, they remained lip-locked so long I began to wonder if I shouldn’t try to slip out the door. Then again, I needed a job. And it sure sounded like they would soon be hiring. Like right now.

I cleared my throat.

The lovers ended their kiss, but remained tightly intertwined. As Xavier reached up to tuck a piece of hair that had slipped from Dawn’s jewel-encrusted clip back behind her ear, he asked, You are a massage therapist, Miss Elizabeth?

Yes, sir.

Any good?

From what my clients tell me.

Excellent. When can you start? he asked, his gaze never leaving Dawn’s.

Yesterday. Monday?

Perfect. Be here Monday at eight a.m. Dress code is comfortable but presentable. No tank tops, no flip flops—

Xavier! Dawn swatted at him. You can’t expect Ms. Williams to take the job before she gets a chance to see where she’ll be working!

"Oh, what was I thinking?"

I knew darned well what he was thinking. It had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with his after-hours intentions with the petite vixen before him. Not wanting to piss off my new boss before I’d even started, I took a step back.

That’s alright. I’m...sure it’s great.

Xavier started to nod at the same time Dawn spoke up. Heavens, no! I’ll show you back there now. It won’t take but a minute.

She came around from behind the front counter and took me by the elbow. Her fiancé watched us go with narrowed eyes. I shrugged and offered him a sheepish grin, to which he responded with a shake of his head and a heavy sigh.

The grin on my face widened as Dawn led me into the depths of the Spa del Sol. Unless