My Hot Valentine

by Mia Madison

  MY HOT VALENTINE

  A Steamy Older Man Younger Woman Firefighter Romance

  Mia Madison

  Copyright © 2018 Mia Madison

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons (living or dead), places or events is purely coincidental. All characters involved in sexual activity are 18 years of age or older.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the author or publisher.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to the author.

  NOTE: This story contains scenes and language only suitable for mature readers.

  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

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  EPILOGUE

  ALSO BY MIA

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER 1

  Alyssa

  I’m in the bathroom at the Bello Italiano restaurant a mile or so from where I live in Kent, on the southern coast of England. But I’m not coming out from my hiding place anytime soon. Not until my date gets fed up waiting for me and leaves.

  I’ve been here ten whole minutes, not nearly long enough to shake him off. Why did I even say yes to dinner with Kevin Freeman tonight? Sure, he’s good looking. All the girls in the bank where I work want to go out with him, and I was flattered he singled me out. Who could resist his whole charm offensive?

  But I should have known better.

  There’s only one thing he wants, and it’s not me. He just thinks I’m easy. That much was obvious after the first half hour.

  Stupid me. I’ve seen him go through other girls like a hot knife through butter, and once they melt, he moves on. There’s no way he was going to be any different with me.

  Someone comes into the bathroom and I freeze, but they go into another stall. I want to ask, “Is the guy with the blond surfer hair still there, the one who has been making suggestive remarks all night, the one with wandering-hand trouble?”

  But I don’t. I doubt anyone except me noticed his behavior in the dim lighting of the busy restaurant. Of course, he’ll still be there. The toad thinks I’m desperate to sleep with him. A sure thing.

  The woman goes out and I’m alone again.

  This is crazy. I should just go out and tell Kevin I’m not interested. Little kids run away, and I’m not a small child anymore; not even close to small.

  I reach for the lock on the door, but it’s stiff. I rushed in here to get away from Mr. Slime and his hands. And now I remember that I slammed the lock shut, annoyed with myself for being so gullible, for even daring to think he liked me. I didn’t even think about the lock, but now I’m pulling at the thing and it just won’t budge. I take off my shoe and hammer at the stupid knob that’s supposed to slide the lever along, but the knob drops off with a clang onto the floor.

  Now what? There’s no way I’ll get out without help now.

  I have my phone with me in my bag. I could call Kevin and admit to him I’m stuck in the bathroom. No way. I’ll be forever the girl who couldn’t even get herself out of a bathroom.

  Luckily for me, there’s a restaurant flyer stuck to the back of the door. It’s promoting a Valentine’s Day four course special dinner, as if all those calories had to mean love would be in the air instead of indigestion and an extra two pounds on the scales next day.

  Who invented Valentine’s Day, anyway? If Cupid did, the little jerk has a lot to answer for with his bow and arrow.

  But at least the flyer has the restaurant number, so I call that. One of the waiters will come and get me. Without making a fuss? No, that would be too much to ask on a night like this.

  After I explain the situation and put up with the ensuing mirth, a waiter knocks and comes into the bathroom, but he can’t open the door from the other side of the stall. I’m stuck here. This evening is so not fun or funny. I should have stayed in and watched a rerun of a seventies sitcom or something. It would have been more entertaining.

  “Can you get under the door?” the waiter asks.

  I look at the gap. It must be all of nine inches. Then I look at me, as if I even needed to size myself up for a potential escape under there. No chance.

  “I don’t think so,” I venture. I don’t tell him I think I’m too big. In any case, that stall is tiny. There wouldn’t be room for anyone to get down on the floor and squeeze out even if they were stick thin. Besides, ugh, bathroom floors. It looks fairly clean, but still.

  “Leave it to me,” he says. It’s not as if I could do anything else.

  He goes off and now I’m desperate to get out of the bathroom and go to tell Kevin all bets are off. Ironic, after coming in here to avoid him.

  The outer door opens again. “Er, be seeing you,” Kevin says. “Early start tomorrow.”

  Not if I see him first. I make a rude gesture through the toilet door. He’s abandoning me here. But that figures, so I just say, “Okay,” though really, I’m mad that I’m not getting to tell him I’m not interested.

  Then again, maybe it’s easier this way. I have other things to worry about. Like getting out of here and getting home, seeing as Kevin picked me up. I guess I’ll just get a taxi. I forgot about that in my super-duper plan to hide in the bathroom. Talk about not thinking straight.

  CHAPTER 2

  Ward

  Two waiters are having a discussion in Italian. I just want a pizza to go and I’ll be out of here. It’s been a long day. The crew from the station was called out to a wreck, and we had to cut an old couple and a young family out of their vehicles after a head-on collision. I hope they’re okay. We rarely get to know the outcome after the paramedics take the people we rescue away, lights flashing. But I can’t dwell on that or I’d never be able to do my job.

  Now I just need to chill out with food and a beer. At home. “Can I get the usual to take out?”

  One of the waiters looks up and recognizes me. “Ah!” he says. “Sorry. We’ve got a problem here.”

  “You ran out of pizza dough?”

  “No,” he gives me a look as if such a thing would be crazy. “There’s a girl locked in the bathroom. Can you help?”

  We get enough calls about this kind of thing that it’s not a big deal. “Sure. Got any tools handy?”

  “A few—out back.”

  The waiter returns with a hammer and a screwdriver. Not much, but it might be okay, depending on the kind of lock and catch we’re dealing with.

  “Okay to go in?” I ask, indicating the door to the ladies’ bathroom. There are still a few people having dinner.

  The waiter looks around. “Yes, no one in there but the girl.”

  “Hi there,” I say to the stall door, when I go in. “I’m Ward Stevens. Don’t worry—we’ll soon have you out. We d
eal with a lot of locked doors.”

  “Ward Stev… You’re a locksmith?” Her voice catches, but it’s husky. I like that.

  “No, fire department.”

  “Oh,” she says. “Sorry to put you to all this trouble. I didn’t think they’d have to call in emergency services.”

  “They didn’t have to. I was just here for a pizza. What’s your name?”

  “Alyssa.” That name takes me back a good few years. It could be her—my friend Martin’s little sister.

  “Well, Alyssa. There are no screws on this side of the door. Are there any on your side?”

  “Yes,” she says.

  I pass the screwdriver under the door. “See if you can loosen them.” The waiters could have done this, but no one ever thinks of all the options.

  “I can’t… oh yes… this one is working.”

  The bathroom is quiet, apart from the sound of the waiters outside and the girl in the stall loosening the screws. The lock falls off with a clatter onto the bathroom floor, and she pulls the door open.

  That’s when I see it’s her—it is the Alyssa I knew way back, but not the same at all. She’s stunning.

  CHAPTER 3

  Alyssa

  “Oh, it is you,” Ward says, his deep brown eyes opening wide. “When you said your name was Alyssa, I wasn’t sure you would be that Alyssa.”

  Even after all this time, my heart skips a beat when he looks at me. Something about his eyes always had me swooning. I lived for those moments.

  I thought about him as soon as he said his name. There can’t be many Ward Stevens around, but his voice has deepened a bit, so I wasn’t sure. If this wasn’t so embarrassing, I’d be over the moon to see him again. Who am I kidding? It’s worth getting stuck in the bathroom any day just to be rescued by him.

  “Yes, I’m that Alyssa.” I smile at him like a lunatic. He’s just as gorgeous as ever, over six feet tall, but more built if anything. I think he’s broadened, too. I don’t remember his shoulders being that wide.

  “And now you’re all grown up,” he says, “and it suits you.” It’s nice of him not to mention how I’ve expanded out as well as up. I used to be a skinny little thing when I was younger.

  “It’s years since I saw you,” I say. “You moved to Yorkshire, didn’t you?” He and my brother Martin were as thick as thieves as long as I remember, but Ward moved away for work when I was fourteen and I never saw him again. I was heartbroken.

  I sneak another look at him in the bathroom mirror as I wash my hands under cold running water, and our eyes meet again. Instant heat surges through me. Something has to calm me down here, but cool water is not doing much with him so close behind me or with his dark eyes looking at me.

  “I just moved back a year or so ago,” he says. “I meant to look Martin up, but you know how it is.” Of course Ward would never try to contact me. He was my brother’s friend not mine. Even though I wanted him to be more than a friend.

  “Do you live around here?” I ask, my mind whizzing forward, making plans for how I could arrange to bump into him again.

  “Not far. I’m only here to pick up a pizza. But what are you doing locking yourself in the bathroom? You were always getting into scrapes, but that’s a new one.”

  “I was in hiding. Thanks for getting me out.”

  “Hiding from what?”

  “My date.” I forgot all about jerk Kevin for a moment, the reason I’m here at all. Maybe I should send him a thank you note—one terrible evening with him resulted in me seeing Ward again.

  With a pang, I realize I’ve never felt as strongly about anyone since my brother’s friend left the area, but then, the crush in your head never goes wrong and leaves you locked in a restaurant bathroom.

  “Is your date still out there in the restaurant?”

  “No, he left me here.”

  Ward raises his eyebrows and frowns, his lips tightening in disapproval. I had many silly teenage dreams about those lips. I’m going to have another one tonight, for sure. A much less innocent kind.

  “That was nice of him,” he says. “Do you need a lift home? I’ve got my car here.”

  “If you don’t mind.” I know he’s just doing me a favor, but I can’t deny my heart is pounding even harder now he’s taking me home.

  “I just need to get the pizza I ordered.”

  When we go out of the bathroom, the waiters clap. And I try not to look embarrassed. One hands Ward a box. “Here you go. It’s on the house. Your usual order. And you, too, Miss, no charge.”

  “Did my date go off without paying?”

  “He paid half.”

  I rummage in my bag for my wallet. And leave a twenty in the bowl for tips at the cash desk. The whole evening was worth every penny, and I’d like to be able to come back in the future. There was nothing wrong with the food or the service, only with Kevin and a faulty door lock.

  The waiter helps me on with my coat. As Ward follows me out, thanking the guys for the pizza, I feel his hand on my back through three layers of clothing, and it makes me all warm inside. Who knew one touch could do that?

  CHAPTER 4

  Ward

  Martin’s little sister, Alyssa! Of all the people to meet here. I haven’t seen her for years. She was a cute little kid, always making me laugh, but now she’s enough to stir the blood of a stone. I would be happy to let her drive me wild any night of the week with her sweet face and sexy curves.

  What kind of guy leaves a woman stranded on a date? He must need his head examined to leave Alyssa. Anyway, his loss.

  “Where do you live now?” I ask her. I offered to take her home and for all I know, it’s a long trek, but I don’t care.

  “Farandon Street,” she says. “I can get a cab. Your pizza will get cold.”

  “Just how I like them,” I lie. If it gets cold that baby is going right back in the oven, but a ruined pizza is the last thing on my mind right now.

  I help her into my car, and she’s so close I can smell her light summery perfume, wrong for the season, but somehow just right on her, making me want to get closer still.

  “Nice wheels,” she says.

  “Four of them. Works for me,” and she giggles at my pathetic joke.

  With her back in my life and in my car, my day just got a whole lot brighter. I set off, put some music on. She smiles at me, sexy dimples forming in her cheeks.

  I don’t think a smile ever made me hard before, but hers does. Down boy.

  I’ve got to get her to bed. I mean home.

  No, I mean bed.

  “I didn’t know you were a firefighter,” she says. “I thought you were a mechanic.”

  “I was. But I like rescuing people more than cars.” I especially liked rescuing her—the most low-key operation ever, but very rewarding. Maybe leading to more. I like the thought of more a whole lot.

  “Where is Martin these days?” I ask. I’ve got to keep my mind out of the gutter before it gets me into trouble with her.

  “You know he joined the army?”

  “He was always talking about that. It’s a pity we lost touch. Guys are useless at that kind of thing. Is he away, then?”

  “Yes, Afghanistan.” She pulls a face. They used to be close, and they probably still are. That must be a real worry. And then she brightens. “He’s home on leave next week, though, if you want to catch up.”

  “Yeah, I’ll call him if you give me his number.”

  She pulls out a pen and paper from her bag and starts jotting down Martin’s contact details.

  “Do you want to leave me your number, too?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

  “Why mine?”

  “Because, I don’t know, I might like to ask you out. And I guarantee you won’t end up locked in the ladies room.”

  “No,” she says. “If I get locked in the ladies, you can get me out.” And she grins. She writes down another number.

  “That is, unless you want to share this pizza. It’s big enough for two.�
�� I look over at her. What is she going to say? I don’t want to leave things here, even if I have her number.

  “I ate at the restaurant, but I guess I could manage a tiny slice. That’s the door to my place just over there.”

  I park the car. “Pizza at yours, then?”

  “Yes, before it gets cold,” Alyssa says. She obviously didn’t believe my cold pizza line. But never mind; the way she looks at me, I’m rock hard. Fuck the pizza—I’ve lost all my appetite for food, and all I want is her.

  CHAPTER 5

  Alyssa

  Ward grabs the pizza box from the back seat and follows me inside the building. And then I’m alone in the elevator with him, and I don’t know where to look. When we reach my floor, I fumble with my keys, but manage to get us inside. He must think I’m a nervous wreck.

  Switching on a couple of soft lights in the kitchen, I frantically look around. Thank goodness, the place is not in too bad a state.

  He puts the pizza down on the countertop. “Nice place,” he says. “All yours?”

  “While Martin’s away, yes. We’re roommates when he’s here. The napkins are there. I’ll just get some plates.” I’m sure he doesn’t need a running commentary, but I can’t seem to shut up. “There’s wine in the fridge if you want some.”

  Now I’ve invited him here I don’t know what to do with him, what to say to him. I’m not usually this nervous. But then, I don’t usually have a six feet plus burly firefighter in my kitchen, one who’s looking at me like he might like to eat me rather than the pizza he brought.

  But I’ve probably got this all wrong. It’s not me he wants at all. It’s not like it’s my day for getting things right with guys.

  “Hey. It’s all right. I don’t need wine,” he says, taking hold of my arm where I’m rummaging about in the kitchen drawer looking for the corkscrew. “Actually, I don’t even need pizza.”