by Romy Sommer
Words lost their meaning for a very long time after that. Eventually, she convinced Jake to move the fire truck – or risk being arrested by the local constabulary. As he was still on call, she elected to stay with him at the fire station until he came off duty.
Ben came in just before midnight. When they broke the news to him, he slapped his brother on the back in congratulations. He eyed Ellie speculatively for several moments, then nodded, as if satisfied with whatever he saw in her face.
“Welcome to the family. Sorry I gave you a hard time.” He kissed her cheek.
Ellie smiled. “I would’ve done the same in your shoes.”
He gave a cheeky salute and left. Strong arms tugged her close from behind. “Are we leaving now?” she asked.
Jake’s stubble nuzzled her cheek, sending a frisson of electricity through her. “Not just yet. I have a surprise for you.”
She turned in his arms. “Really?”
He nodded. “Come with me.” He led her around the back of the fire truck and motioned her up the ladder.
She started in surprise. “You want me to climb to the top of the truck?”
He just smiled and waited. She climbed the rungs to the top and gasped at the sight before her. A single flame burned in a candle on a rug laid on the truck roof. A bottle of champagne stood in a silver bucket along with two glasses.
“What’s this?” she breathed.
“It’s your birthday in,” he checked his watch, “fifteen minutes. I thought we’d start the celebration a little bit early with a little trip down memory lane.” His fingers made easy work of her shirt buttons. “You once told me how you’d love to play hooky in a real fire truck.”
Excitement fizzed through her. “Hmm, I remember. I’m surprised you do, too.”
“My memories of us never dimmed. Not for a second. Happy birthday, Ellie.”
She went into his arms, and knew she was finally home. “I’d love to make more memories with you, Jake. Enough to last a lifetime.”
About the author:
Maya Blake fell in love with the world of the alpha male and the strong, aspirational heroine when she read her first romance novel at age 13. Shortly thereafter, the dream to plot a happy ending for her own characters was born. Maya lives in South East England with her husband and two kids. Reading is an absolute passion, but when she isn't lost in book, she likes to swim, cycle, travel and Tweet! You can get in touch via her blog: www.mayabauthor.blogspot.com Twitter: www.twitter.com/mayablake or Facebook: Maya Blake
Her latest book The Price of Success is available on Amazon now.
The Fire Inside
Romy Sommer
Kindle Edition. Copyright © 2012 Romy Sommer
All rights reserved. No part of this e-book may be reproduced in any form other than that in which it was purchased and without the written permission of the author.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
http://www.romysommer.com/
Chapter One
Ryan Morgan climbed out of his sports car and rested his arm on the roof for a moment as he surveyed the landscape, the clear sky above, and mountains reflected in the dark water of Coombethwaite Lake. He breathed in deeply.
For the first time since he’d left London, the tension in his neck and shoulders eased. With luck, the tension would be history by the end of tonight’s stag party.
The King’s Head pub sat on the very edge of the water, separated from the lake by nothing more than a slope of lawn scattered with wooden tables and benches, almost all occupied on this fine summer’s evening. He shielded his eyes against the glare of sunlight off water. It was a moment before he spotted Nick.
His uni flatmate hadn’t changed a bit in the years since they first met. He still wore his hair cropped short, and still had the physique of a man who worked out regularly. Ryan kept in shape, and knew he wasn’t too shabby for a man in his mid-thirties who spent way too much time in an office, but beside Nick and his brawny mates, he no doubt appeared a lightweight. He slammed the car door shut, pocketed the key, and headed across the lawn to where Nick and his friends laughed loudly at some joke.
Nick looked up as he approached, and grinned. “Hey, you’re late. Sam’s inside getting us the next round, so you’ll have to hurry to add yours to the order.”
“Hey there to you too.” Ryan laughed. Just being around Nick again made him feel years lighter. He headed inside, into the gloomy pub with its low-beamed ceilings and wallpaper the colour of dried blood. A couple of tables were occupied, but the only person being served at the bar was a young woman. No sign of Nick’s mate Sam.
Ryan leaned against the dark wood bar and waited as the barman filled her order.
For half a second, the young woman glanced his way. He caught the interested flare in her eyes before she quickly looked away. She tucked back a stray wisp of hair that had fallen loose from her untidy ponytail, an unconscious gesture that made him smile.
“I’ll be with you in a moment.” The barman sent him an apologetic grin as he pushed two foaming pint glasses across the bar towards the young woman. “Here you go, Sam.”
“You’re Sam?” He couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice.
She turned, hand on hip, stance shrieking defiance. God, he’d never seen eyes that colour before. Perhaps it was a trick of the light in this under-lit pub, but her blue eyes were an unusual shade, bright as cornflowers and emphasized by a fringe of coal-black lashes.
Her appraising gaze flicked over him. “I am.”
“But you’re a girl.”
She glared, back stiffening.
“Okay, not a girl,” he amended. “A woman.” Very much a woman, all soft curves beneath the jeans and heavy work boots. She wore her ash-blonde hair up in a no-nonsense ponytail, probably more for convenience than style, and no make-up, not even a dash of lip gloss. Her only concession to her sex was the white collared shirt tailored just right for the swell of her breasts.
“Of course I’m a woman.” She frowned. “What else would I be?”
He was saved from having to answer by the intrusion of a stick-thin dyed blonde vacuum-packed in a cherry red dress who attempted to insert herself between them.
“Hi,” the blonde breathed. “You’re Ryan Morgan. I’m Cindy.”
Of course you are. Cindy, Candy, Brandy. Their names were usually as indistinguishable as their faces. “Nice to meet you, Cindy. Do you mind? I’m in the middle of a conversation?”
“Oh don’t mind me. I’m just leaving.” Sam reached for the four pint glasses the barman set before her, balancing them in her small hands with practiced ease, and slipped away from the bar.
“What’ll you have?” the barman asked.
“One of those.” He nodded after the departing Sam, and willed the barman to hurry up so he could chase after her.
“I watch your TV show every week.” The blonde. Was she still here?
“I sing too.” She pouted a little, realising he hadn’t yet bestowed his full attention on her, but still persistent.
“And I’m on vacation.” He dropped his money on the counter, grabbed hold of his pint, and pushed past the blonde, heading for the tables on the lawn outside and the siren call of the first woman in years who hadn’t thrown herself at him.
Sam was already seated with Nick and his mates when Ryan joined them.
“This is Ryan,” Nick said, then to Ryan, “this is my crew.” Nick swept an arm around the table, and performed the introductions; Drew, the local lord of the manor; Isaac, the brooding farrier recently returned from far-off places; novelist Daniel; Ken, the crew's newest recr
uit, and the twins, Ben and Jake, identical down to their matching dimples. The only way he could tell them apart was by the dreamy, I just got laid look in Jake's eyes. Lucky for Ryan he had a good memory for names and faces, or he’d be lost.
He sat astride the end of the bench beside Sam, and she shifted up to make space for him. Or more accurately, to make space between them.
“You’re a firefighter too?” he asked.
She crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin. “I am. You have a problem with that?”
He grinned. “You’re certainly the prettiest fireman I’ve ever seen.”
“Retained firefighter,” she corrected. With a roll of her eyes, she turned away from him, swigging down a mouthful of beer. The brush off only intrigued him more.
“You’re the hot shot talent scout on that TV show,” said one of the twins.
That TV show, the reality talent show that had made him a household name. Ryan resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Sam had done. “That’s me.”
“You must get lots of chicks throwing themselves at you.”
“All the time.” Ryan suppressed a sigh, thinking of the dyed blonde in the pub whose name he’d already forgotten. “Trust me, it really wears thin after a while.”
“Yeah right.” Nick slapped him on the back. “Like that ever gets old.”
“You’re the one getting hitched. You tell me.”
The entire table erupted with laughter as Nick blushed. “Lizzie’s worth giving all that up for.”
“You’re a lucky man.” And Ryan meant it. He wished he was in his friend’s shoes, settling down with the one woman worth giving up all others for. He cast a sideways glance at Sam, and for a second their gazes met before she looked away.
The dyed blonde and her two friends had moved to an empty table nearby. They simpered and laughed just a little too loudly in the obvious hope of catching his attention.
“Oh well, guess that means the rest of us won’t get a shot at any of the bridesmaids then, with you around,” Isaac joked. Over his shoulder, the dyed blonde began to sing.
Sam coughed, covering a laugh.
“You’re welcome to the bridesmaids.” Ryan caught Sam’s eye and grinned. “Especially if they think they can sing.”
She smiled. An honest-to-goodness smile that lit up her eyes, which were no less stunning in colour out here in the sunlight.
“In fact, if Lizzie has any shy spinster girlfriends with absolutely no aspirations for their ten seconds of fame, I’ll gladly volunteer to escort them to the wedding. The last thing I need is to spend an entire evening fending off desperate women with too much alcohol in them.” That was the way he spent every other night of his life. He was tired beyond belief of the endless events he attended. More and more all he wanted was a real conversation over dinner. A real flirtation with some real chemistry.
“You can always take Sam. She doesn’t have a date.”
Yeah. That kind of chemistry.
Sam choked on the dregs of her beer. “That’s exactly the way I’d like to keep it, thank you very much.”
“Oh come on, Sam. It’s not like bringing a date to the wedding would kill you,” Nick said.
Sam glared at him. “You never know. It might. I’m ready for the next round. Whose shout is it?”
“I’ll take this one.” Ryan stood.
Nick also rose. “I’ll help you with the drinks.”
Back inside, Nick leaned against the bar as they waited for their order. “This is probably pretty tame compared to the fancy parties you usually attend.”
“I’m enjoying this more than any party I’ve been to in years.”
Nick studied him. “You know, that’s not a bad idea I had.”
“What idea?”
“If you’re serious about wanting to avoid all the ambitious single women, you should bring Sam to the wedding. You’ll be safe as houses with her.”
“But will she be safe with me?” Ryan waggled his eyebrows and Nick laughed.
“You don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell, mate. I’ve known Sam since we were kids, and you’re not her type.”
“What’s her type?”
Nick wrinkled his nose. “Actually, I guess I don’t know. It’s never come up. Sam’s just one of the guys. She’s not that interested in men.”
Or maybe just not in the men she’d known all her life and grown up with. But there’d been that look back at the bar, and her smile. Ryan had absolutely no doubt the right man would interest her. This weekend was really looking up.
“I’m game. Safe is my middle name.”
Nick threw his head back in laughter. “Who are you, and what have you done with my friend?”
Chapter Two
“Are you crazy? Hell no!” Sam slammed the compartment door closed on the gear she’d meticulously stowed away in the fire truck.
“Please. It’d really help Ryan out. And it’ll be much better than sitting at the loser table.”
She stared at Nick as if she’d never seen him before. They’d known each other most of their lives, they’d done their training together. They’d even fought real flames together. And yet it was as if he still didn’t know her at all. She set her hands on her hips. “So I’m just the sad, lonely loser who should be grateful for a date?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you think.”
Nick squirmed and wouldn’t look her in the eye. “Since you don’t date, you’d be perfect for Ryan.”
She frowned. “Who says I don’t date?”
“Not once in all the time we’ve worked together have you hooked up with a guy. You’re just not very...girlie...that way.”
Just great. Was that how the rest of the crew saw her? Was that how the whole village saw her? Not that she hadn’t found a man she wanted to date, but that she wasn’t feminine enough to interest one? Well, she could do girlie if she wanted to. She’d show them all just how girlie she could be. Starting with that famous city slicker who oozed assurance like an expensive cologne.
“Fine. Tell your friend he can pick me up at three tomorrow. And if he isn’t there on time I’ll go to the church without him and he’ll have to take his chances with the real girls.”
“Oh come now, Sam, don’t be like that. There’s no need to be so sensitive.”
She turned on her heel and stomped out the station. Ryan could finish packing away the gear on his own. She had a sculpture back in her studio that needed finishing and right now she wanted the company of twisted metal way more than she wanted the complications of people.
Chapter Three
The modern bungalow behind the fire station had no bell. Ryan rapped the door knocker twice and waited. He’d never seen a knocker quite like this before, a jagged lightning bolt made of metal. A feminine voice echoed inside, not distinct enough to make out words but he was pretty sure she said “come in.”
He turned the handle and the door opened. Who left their front door unlocked in this day and age?
He pushed the door open and stepped into the hall. It was a standard entrance hall, narrow, with stairs leading upwards and an arched doorway to the right into a neat living room. Nice wooden floors, not too cramped. Spartan but comfortable.
“I’m through here.”
He followed the sound of her voice down the passage into the kitchen at the back of the house. Attached to the side of the kitchen was a massive conservatory out of all proportion to the house, flooded now with afternoon sunlight.
Unlike the almost excessive neatness of the rest of the house, the conservatory was a cluttered mess, resembling the workshop of a mad inventor. Engine parts and broken appliances littered the work-benches, lying amongst tools he had no hope of recognising. The tang of singed metal filled the air.
In the centre of the room, Sam stood with her back to him, and for a heart-stopping moment he wondered if she’d decided not to go to Nick’s wedding after all.
Then she turned. She w
ore work boots and a long white lab coat spattered with grease and heaven only knew what, but she’d taken time to do her hair in an elegant chignon, and through her welding glasses he saw she wore make-up.
She removed the glasses. “You’re early.”
Her kohl-rimmed eyes seemed even bluer and more piercing than he remembered. “Nick read me the riot act. He said you’re very hung up on punctuality.”
Her full pink-painted lips curved into a smile. “He sent you early to make sure I didn’t get carried away working and forget about the wedding. As if.”
“What are you working on?”
She stepped aside to reveal a sculpture half a metre high of a couple locked in embrace. His temperature spiked. Against the backdrop of the cluttered workshop, and Sam’s clinical attire, the eroticism of the sculpture came as something of a shock. Sam certainly had hidden depths.
She shifted her weight, drawing his attention back to her. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea, coffee...” She glanced at the wall clock, another metal creation, in the shape of a fire-spitting dragon. “Or something stronger?”
“Water will be fine.” He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry.
She shrugged out of her lab coat, and his mouth got even drier. Beneath the coat she wore a hot pink cocktail dress, a simple above-the-knee design with scooped neckline and short sleeves. She looked as if she’d been poured into it. And her legs went on for miles. He swallowed. How the hell did Nick and his mates think this woman was ‘just one of the guys’?
And just how many rhetorical questions was he going to ask himself tonight?
“Interesting shoes,” he commented when she returned with a glass of water.
She glanced down and blushed. “I better change those before we go.”
“No hurry. As you said, it’s still early.” He gave in to the insane urge to keep her talking. He wanted to get to know her, to peel away the defensive layers and uncover the woman within. Adrenalin surged through his veins, the same rush he got whenever an act stood on stage, ready to perform. Like the hushed moment in a theatre just before the curtain rose. That moment when anything might be possible.