Twenty Times Tempted: A Sexy Contemporary Romance Collection

by Petrova, Em

  Taking the shaky stairs two at a time, she scampered upward, holding the rail with one hand, grasping the neck of the heavy extinguisher with the other. A knot in her belly burgeoned to boulder size as she climbed higher. The steps lurched as Cris chased after her.

  Finally, she reached the top. The smoke was heavy in the air, roiling and flickering with the light from the fire. Sarah coughed, winded from the climb, suffocating from the sooty air. Whoever else was on the catwalk remained obscured in the thick fog, but she heard the hiss of the extinguisher discharging.

  Smoke parted as she made her way forward on the metal floor of the walkway. Oh no!Kit stood close to the burning curtains, spraying the chemicals on the fire. “Kit!”

  He looked her way as she moved toward him, but continued to sweep the nozzle side-to-side, aiming at the base of the fire. The crackle of the fire was loud, but not loud enough to drown out the sound of sirens wailing in the distance. Getting closer.

  “I’ve got this, Ms. Willis,” Kit hollered.

  Cris caught up and surged around her, snatching the cylinder from her hand on his way past. “Trip, get the hell out of here.” Panic edged his voice.

  “Hurry, Dad! The pressure is dropping. I think I’m about out.” Kit coughed and continued to work.

  The volume of spray lessened. The nozzle jerked and hiccoughed in Kit’s fingers, then died completely. He dropped the heavy metal container on the walkway and buried his nose and mouth in the crook of his elbow.

  Cris shouldered past his son and aimed his hose at the burning curtains. As chemicals jetted out, he shouted over the noise. “Sarah, get him out of here. When the tanker arrives, tell them where I am.”

  “Let me help,” she screamed. Fear fractured her voice.

  “We only have one extinguisher.” Cris didn’t look away from the fire as he yelled. “Help me by making sure my son is safe. Getting down those steps will be hard with his ankle.” He spared her an entreating glance over his shoulder. “Please, Sarah.”

  Her heart seized with terror. She couldn’t bear to leave him here, but he was trained for this type of emergency. Intellectually, she knew she’d be more help out of the way. Emotionally, she wasn’t sure she could walk away.

  The desperate look in his eyes convinced her. She bobbed her head in a curt nod. “Stay safe, Cris. I love you.” Grasping Kit’s arms, she dragged him away, worry rising higher in her heart with each step away from Cris until she thought she’d choke.

  Ushering Kit to the steps, she spared a last glance at the man who’d come to mean more to her than she’d believed possible. Even as mad at him as she was, this man colored her existence with his mind and body. If he didn’t survive this...

  Cris had a slight grin on his lips as he concentrated on the fire above him. He coughed, then spat. Sparks and embers from the flaming fabric showered around him, clouds of black smoke boiled above his head. A spark landed on his face, and he rubbed his cheek on his shoulder.

  Sarah shuddered as she grabbed Kit’s waistband and steadied him on the descent. They had to move fast to get to safety, but each step down obscured her view of the man who’d become her world. Tears, not entirely from the smoke, watered her vision, making it hard to see. She moved downward by touch more than sight. The smoke thickened around them, rendering visibility next to nothing.

  Another loud pop sounded from above and cold, rank liquid rained down on them. The heat and smoke had finally triggered the fire sprinklers.

  “Fuck yeah!” Cris shouted above her. Relieved laughter accompanied his outburst.

  As dank water continued to pour on them, Sarah cautioned Kit. “Be careful on the stairs. The water will make them slick. But keep moving. We aren’t out of danger yet.”

  At that precise moment, Kit’s foot slipped off the step, his shout of pain ringing loudly around the cavernous stage. “Ouch!”

  Sarah tightened her grip on the waist of his jeans, jerking backward when the kid would have tumbled forward. Her shoulder wrenched as she counter-balanced his weight. “Your ankle again?”

  “Something popped.” Kit stopped and lifted the weight from his injured leg, biting his lip and breathing hard through his nose. He nodded as he looked over his shoulder at her, pain etched on his face.

  Sarah turned her head and coughed up a lungful of smoke. “I’m really sorry, Kit, but we have to keep moving. It’s only ten more steps. You have to suck it up because I can’t help you much on this staircase. Let’s go.” Her tone was authoritative enough to move Kit to action.

  He bobbed his head and then panted several breaths in, preparing himself for the pain.

  Expelling a harsh breath, he stepped down. “Fuck!” His knee buckled, but he recovered and hopped down.

  Sarah’s shoulders tightened as she followed the cussing boy, echoing each of his expletives with encouraging words. Both of them coughed, the sound harsh and rasping.

  As she and Kit continued their mad scramble downward, the fire still raged overhead, even with the dousing water from the sprinklers. When her feet finally hit the floor, she almost crumbled, but her mission to get Kit to safety kept her upright. She snuck under his left arm and took his weight. “Almost there.”

  Together, they hobbled toward the door. Sarah craned her neck to see if she could spy Cris above them. But while the smoke had lightened as it mixed with steam from the water hitting flame, it had become more dense. Wait, there... She caught a brief glimpse of him running toward the steps. She firmed her grip around Kit’s waist.

  “Your dad’s on his way down, Kit.” Please, God, let him make it. Sarah dug deep for an encouraging smile. “He’s going to be okay.”

  Kit responded with a curt nod, as though unable to speak. Tears, probably part pain, part relief, left streaks in the soot on his face. The sharp lines blurred as he swiped the back of his hand over his cheeks.

  She focused on getting Kit past the inbound firefighters. As the first one raced by, she shouted. “Cris Bayfield is on the catwalk with a fire extinguisher. The access is right there.” She pointed to the metal spiral climbing upward.

  “Thanks,” the man grunted and sprinted away toward the stairs.

  Once she got Kit through the doorway, Sam materialized. “You guys okay?” His brows were drawn together, a harsh line on his normally smiling face.

  “We’re okay. Kit twisted his ankle again.” She coughed and sagged under his weight with her next step.

  “Let me.” Sam bent and scooped Kit up and over his shoulder, making the boy cough harder. Sam rushed toward the tennis court where an ambulance stood by. The rest of the people from the auditorium milled around on the courts, parents hugging their children, students embracing each other. Panic and fear visible on everyone’s faces. Bruce patted each person on the head as he counted them off, the list crumpled in his fist. Sarah followed behind Sam, but altered her course, moving toward the courts. Her breath labored in and out from exertion, panic, and smoke.

  “God, Sarah. Are you okay?” Pippa queried as she reached the gate. Pip’s fingers were white at the knuckles when she pressed her fists against her mouth. This was the second fire the woman had lived through, the first happening just before her wedding.

  Sarah laid a calming hand on Pip’s fists. “I’m fine. Bruce!” Her ribs rattled as she attempted to suppress a cough. “Is everyone accounted for?”

  “Can’t find Kit Bayfield.”

  Pip wiped at the soot staining Sarah’s cheeks.

  “He was with me. Mr. Kerrigan took him to the EMTs.” Pippa trembled next to her. Time to give the woman something to focus on. “Pip, would you mind checking on Kit? He swallowed a lot of smoke and re-sprained his ankle.”

  With a quick nod, Pip hurried toward the ambulance where Kit was being treated. Coughs wracked Sarah’s shoulders as she attempted to clear her throat of the foul smoke. It felt as though her lungs were frozen blocks of ice in her chest, not contorting enough to expel the nastiness.

  She turned toward the sch
ool, clutching her throat, waiting for the relief she knew would come as soon as she saw Cris exiting the stage door.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cris couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so frightened in the face of a fire. In all the years he’d worked for the department, he’d been cool and calm, whether fighting alongside other people dedicated to public safety, or more recently, in investigating causes behind the conflagrations.

  Tonight, a different form of adrenalin had roared through him at the first shout of “fire!” His heart had lodged in his throat as he’d leapt to his feet. It had only taken an instant to catch a whiff of ozone that accompanied an electrical fire. He’d swept his frantic gaze around the stage and auditorium, attempting to locate the two most important people in his life, Trip and Sarah. His training kicked in as soon as he heard Sam ordering an evacuation of the building. While other parents ran for the exits, he’d raced toward the source of the fire, intent on putting it out.

  The sight of Sarah climbing toward the blaze with an extinguisher in her hands shot a jagged spike of terror through him. Every ounce of anger disappeared, replaced by an urgent need to get her and Trip to safety. At the top of the stairs, seeing Trip battling with a failing piece of equipment, had nearly driven him to his knees.

  In the midst of the crisis, when he’d begged Sarah to get Trip to safety, a giant shining white light burst in his heart and mind. Sarah loved him. She’d uttered words he hadn’t even known he wanted to hear. An emotion returned by the woman he’d come to love more than life itself. He’d gripped the red cylinder harder and attacked the flames around him with renewed determination.

  When the sprinklers finally popped, he’d wanted to do a happy dance on the metal grated passage where he stood. But he’d continued to work in the heat and smoke to put the fire down. As the nozzle spit out the last of its contents, he’d tossed the canister to the ground. Water mixed with sweat streamed down his face as he pounded down the steps Sarah and Trip had used to retreat. The need to find them had given strength to his oxygen-deprived muscles. The desire to wrap them in his arms and keep them safe had driven every other thought from his head. His heart had beat painfully against his ribs, and deep, throaty coughs shook his shoulders and tightened his belly.

  Before he hit the stage floor, Cris had stopped long enough to direct the cadre of firefighters swarming in toward the overhead platform. Once the sprinklers kicked in, the fire had diminished sufficiently that the chemicals in the cylinder were enough to finish the job. He’d figure out what had happened later, after he found Trip and Sarah and made sure they were okay. That was his job, after all. At the moment, they were his priority.

  Cris scrubbed his hand over the soot staining his face the instant after he burst through the stage exit. He scanned the crowd on the tennis courts looking for the faces as familiar as his own. Eyes gritty and burning, he blinked hard, trying to produce enough moisture to clear the smoke. He squinted but didn’t see them among the throng of confused, huddled bodies inside the fenced area.

  He turned to his left where emergency lights flashed red and blue. Coughing and hacking away the last of the smoke in his lungs, Cris weaved between a tanker and a ladder truck. He continued to search the area, tension gripping his shoulders like a fucking vise. As he emerged from the canyon of fire trucks, he sighted a blaze of orange hurtling toward him. An instant later, Sarah flung herself into his arms.

  She buried her face in his neck, muffling her voice. “I was afraid I’d lost you. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

  Wrapping his arms around her waist, the feel of her pressed against him was like a blessing. If she got out, it meant Trip had as well.

  She smelled of smoke and fear with a hint of lemon from her shampoo. The mixture was heavenly. He speared his hand into her hair and held her close. “I’m okay. I can’t believe how brave you were. Or how stupid. Why did you run toward the fire, Sarah? I could have lost you. Both you and Trip.” His voice hitched. The thought hit his gut like a steel-shrouded fist, hard, fast...debilitating. Tremors started in his legs, forcing him to set her down. But he didn’t release her from his arms. He was never letting her go again.

  She leaned back. Her brown eyes shone with unshed tears, her face a blackened, sooty mess. Even with the evidence of the fire on her cheeks, she was lovely. “Instinct? I just knew I had to contain it.”

  “You scared ten years off my life. Ten years I could spend with you. God, I’m such an ass. I’m sorry. I know you only have Trip’s and any other students’ well-being in mind. Please forgive me.” She pressed her lips to his and kissed away the tension. When tears threatened behind his eyes, he blinked them away. Clutching her head between his fingers, he let her taste his fear and his love before he tore his mouth from hers. “Don’t ever do that again. I’d die if anything happened to you.”

  “I do love you, Cris.” A smile curved her lips and softened her soot-stained face. “I promise in the future I’ll let you race to the rescue.”

  “I love you too, Sarah. So goddamn much.” He pulled her to his chest, her face angled toward his neck, her sweet breath moist on his throat. The flashing emergency lights pulled him back. He stepped away and twisted to survey the scene, panic flaring again. “Where’s Trip? Is he all right?”

  “He’s okay. He twisted his ankle again on the steps. Sam took him to the EMTs.”

  Her hand was warm as he seized it. Together, they hurried to the ambulance where his son was being treated. A paramedic worked on Trip, wrapping the boy’s ankle as Trip held an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth.

  Without dropping Sarah’s hand, Cris shouldered the medic aside and threw his arm around Trip’s back, wrapping him tightly in an embrace designed to tell the teenager of his relief and gratitude. “Thought I’d lost you, son. I’ve never been so terrified in my life.”

  “Sorry. I heard the light blow up, saw the extinguisher, and just reacted. I was pretty scared, too. But, I’m okay, Deuce. Ms. Willis helped me get out.”

  Cris glanced at Sarah, who smiled encouragingly at him. How had he ever thought she was like Larie. A woman who’d taken only her paints and left Trip and him behind. Sarah was nothing like that. He tugged her forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You’ve saved us both.”

  Tears glimmered in her eyes. Sarah let go of his hand and wove her arms around both of them, enclosing them in a loving group hug. Cris squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to stem the sudden moisture prickling at the back of them. He pressed a kiss to the crown of Trip’s head. Tears gathered behind his eyes once again when he felt the boy’s lips on his jaw in response.

  Holding the two most precious people in his life close to his heart, finally, the panic melted away.

  ***

  Fortunately, Sarah nor Kit nor Cris had to go to the hospital for treatment. But they were given a list of things to watch for overnight and instructed to get to the ER if they experienced any difficulties. While the EMT took care of Kit’s ankle, Cris sat next to him with his own oxygen mask. Sarah left them long enough to check on the students and their parents and helped Sam and Pippa distribute fire department issued blankets among them. Sarah encouraged every student whose parent wasn’t present to call and let their loved ones know they were okay.

  Tom Edwards, the principal, showed up within ten minutes of the evacuation and took charge, much to Sarah’s relief. After thirty minutes, the scene was declared safe by the battalion chief, and they were allowed back in the building for five minutes to gather their belongings.

  Once everyone but the staff and Pippa had left, Cris approached Sarah and insisted on her coming home with him and Kit. Walking through the front door with them felt awkward at first. But Kit was cool about the whole thing, sitting next to her on the couch and talking about the fire. He’d hobbled on his crutches down the hall ahead of her, eager to show off the painting he’d done on his bedroom walls. Once they’d said good night and Kit had closed his door, Cris dragged her across the
hall to his bedroom and shut the world out.

  She showered off the remains of the soot and smoke, soaping her body and hair twice and then a third time. Cris lent her a T-shirt to sleep in. She grinned when she saw it was the Hooter’s Tour shirt Kit had been wearing on the day she’d met Cris. The same one she’d fantasized about wearing with little else on.

  She stood in front of the mirror in his tiny bathroom, combing her wet hair with his brush. Wearing his shirt didn’t automatically make her biggest concern vanish. Cris’s outburst, and her own reinstatement of her rule, stood between them like a giant elephant. Once she emerged from the bath, she took a seat on the plush chair across from the bed. Cris sat on the bed, his brows drawn together in a confused frown.

  “I don’t think this can work, Cris.” The words stung her heart worse than the smoke had burned her eyes.

  “But we love each other.”

  “That doesn’t mean we should be together. You didn’t trust me enough to believe me when I said Kit wasn’t on a slide toward crazy.” And without trust, what did they have beyond a physical relationship? She wrung her hands together, her thumb flicking against her index finger, longing for the soothing nature of her Sharpie. “When you blamed me, it was as though my past had caught up with me. I broke a rule I’ve had in place for a very long time. And look where it got me.”

  Cris stood by the side of the bed, rocking side-to-side, indecision evident in the way he scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Sarah, please don’t give up on me. On us.” He moved to her chair. He squatted in front of her and put his hand on her bare knee. “Please...I’ve been the only person worried about Trip since his birth. He’s my responsibility and, sometimes, my fear of what he’ll become grips me and doesn’t allow me to see the facts of things. I see now that you’d be the perfect partner in raising Trip. Smart and sensible to my emotional and stupid ways.”