by Kayla Perrin
Today there was an additional sensation. His stomach was flexing. Mason had been joking, but he’d summed up Hunter’s feelings. After arriving in Ocean City and securing his place with the fire service here, this was Hunter’s first day on the job. An hour into his first shift and he was heading out to his first fire. He wanted to prove to the guys here that he was a good firefighter.
Within sixty seconds, all the firefighters were in their bunker gear, something they were trained to do. Time was of the essence when responding to a fire or any other emergency.
Peter, another firefighter, patted Hunter on the back once they were all seated in the rear of the pump truck. “Ready to rock and roll?”
“Oh, yeah,” Hunter said.
The truck started off, jerking them all slightly to the right as it rounded the corner out of the firehouse bay. Tyler, who was driving, started the siren. Hunter looked out at the view of Ocean City as the truck moved rapidly down the street. This truly was a beautiful place. Unlike the dry desert of Nevada, Ocean City was lush and green. Lots of palm trees and thick green lawns and colorful flowers. Plus the view of the ocean never got old.
Sixteen years. Had it really been that long since he’d been here? When he’d left, he had seen Ocean City only as a place of despair and heartache. The place that had robbed him of his mother and twin sister. The place where his father had become emotionally distant. The fresh start in Reno had seemed the only thing to do for his sanity.
The truck headed up Cline Avenue, ascending the hillside. Hunter stared out at the small, colorful houses. Pale blue, yellow, green, some pink. This part of Ocean City had homes that were more like cottages and reminded him of the vibrant, colorful houses in the Caribbean. It was very picturesque.
Though Ocean City had a fairly large population, it had a small-town feel, with lots of diverse communities. There were neighborhoods like this, filled with young families and young professionals. Then there were the college students who populated the west side of the downtown area. There was an arts scene, and a vibrant night life. And yet the town never lost its charm. It felt warm and welcoming no matter where you went.
“So what happened to the woman at the bar you met a couple nights ago?” Peter asked. Hunter had been out with Omar, Tyler, Mason, Peter and a bunch of the other guys on their shift the night he’d met Mary. They’d taken him out to get him acquainted with all of his colleagues, to welcome him back to Ocean City and to Fire Station Two. He’d ditched them all once the opportunity to leave with Mary had presented itself, and their hooting, hollering and high fives had shown him that he had their approval. He’d felt kind of silly bailing on them, but there was something about Mary and leaving with her had been an opportunity he definitely couldn’t pass up.
This morning, Hunter had avoided answering their questions when they’d sat down to start eating, but now that he was in the back of a moving truck with nowhere to go, Peter broached the subject again.
“Let’s just put it this way,” Hunter began, “it was a great welcome to Ocean City.”
Peter fist-bumped him in congratulations. “That’s what I’m talking about!”
“Ever going to see her again?” Omar asked.
Peter roared with laughter. “What are you trying to do, see him married off already?” He turned to Hunter. “Omar used to be our resident playboy. Until he off and fell in love.”
“Love is the last thing on my mind,” Hunter said.
“A man after my own heart,” Peter said.
Even if Hunter were looking for love, it wasn’t going to happen with Mary—not after the way she’d ditched him. He doubted he was ever going to see her again. He had her friend’s number, but calling to track her down would seem desperate. If she wanted a one-night fling, so be it. He’d had a great time.
“The guys here keep dropping like flies,” Peter went on. “Mason, Tyler and the one who shocked us all, Omar. At least now I have someone to hit the bars with. It’s like there’s some sort of disease spreading through our station... Forget the flu bug, this time it’s the love bug.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tyler said, glancing back at them from behind the wheel. “Peter, you only wish you could find yourself a woman who wanted to see you for more than a day.”
All the guys laughed, but the laughter quickly faded when the billowing smoke from the structure fire came into view.
“There it is,” Hunter said.
The pump truck came to a stop. No more joking, they started affixing their helmets and masks.
“That’s thick black smoke,” Mason said.
“The building needs to be ventilated,” Hunter added. No one could go into a building with dense hot smoke without an outlet for the fire to escape. Rapid reintroduction of oxygen could cause the building to blow.
In other words, a back draft. Back drafts had claimed the lives of many a firefighter.
“Is anyone in the building?” the chief was asking the crowd of onlookers when Hunter and the rest of the guys jumped off the truck.
“No,” a woman said. She was barefoot, wearing a robe, and her blond hair was disheveled. “My husband and I smelled smoke, so we ran out. It’s just the two of us.”
The chief quickly assessed the fire. “Richards, Lovett—get that ladder on the roof. Take an ax and start ventilation. Wickham and Rogers, get to the back of the building and do the same.”
The men he’d named sprang into action. Omar and Hunter worked at getting the hoses. Tyler went to the pump truck’s controls.
Flames shot through the roof when the two firefighters there put a hole in it. Richards jerked backward, almost falling off the ladder as he tried to escape the sudden burst of flame. A collective gasp erupted in the crowd. Once Richards regained his footing on the ladder, people began to clap.
“Wickham, Rogers,” the chief said into the walkie-talkie affixed to his jacket. “How’s it looking back there?”
“Window’s open now,” one of them responded. “This one’s burning real hot.”
“Holland,” the chief said to Hunter, addressing him by his surname.
“Yes, Chief?”
“You and Ewing get a hose around to the back, start fighting that fire.”
“Yes, sir.” Hunter and Omar lifted a heavy hose onto their shoulders, the two of them carrying it to the back of the building. Hunter hit the nozzle to release the water, and the hose jerked backward from the pressure as he did. They immediately began attacking the angry flames shooting through the smashed open window. It felt good being back on the job. Hunter had missed this. The adrenaline rush of fighting a fire that wanted to destroy and take as many casualties as possible.
Not if Hunter could help it.
More firefighters arrived from another firehouse, and together everyone attacked the flames. The smoke turned from black to white as it mixed with moisture and rose into the air in a giant plume.
Red angry flames reached through the broken window like tentacles trying to claw at them. Hunter held on to the taut hose and aimed, blasting the fire. “I don’t think so.”
And when the flames began to recede, replaced with more white smoke, satisfaction filled him. Oh, yeah, it definitely felt good to be back in action. And at least while he was fighting this fire, he wasn’t thinking about the woman who’d left him overheated in his bed, wanting more.
Chapter 6
On Monday morning, Lorraine whipped her car into an empty parking spot just a block down from the building that housed the lawyer’s office. She got out and put enough money in the meter for two hours. Then she glanced at her cell phone. She’d made good time. She had ten minutes to spare before her appointment.
She walked briskly toward the tall gray-bricked building. She sucked in a nervous breath before pushing through the revolving doors.
The lawyer had give
n her specific instructions, so she knew she was going to the third floor, then turning right to head to suite 309. She passed well-dressed people moving swiftly across the floor. Places to go, people to see. Lorraine’s heels clicked against the marble, seeming to accentuate the rapid beating of her heart.
She glanced at the people around her. Slick business suits, pencil skirts, blazers. They looked like executives or other serious business types. Lorraine swallowed. Should she have worn a suit as opposed to the floral skirt and cotton blouse she’d chosen?
She reached the bank of elevators and stared at her reflection in the polished metal doors. Why was she doubting herself? She looked perfectly acceptable. After all, she wasn’t here to apply for a job. She was here for a meeting. It was just her nerves getting to her. Meeting with a lawyer about a will was so official.
Yesterday, she’d decided to come here. Today, she couldn’t shake the tightening in her belly at the idea of seeing Douglas’s family. Surely they would be here. Would they be angry to see a stranger at what they’d understandably expect to be a private family meeting? And would they give her a hard time regarding whatever had been left to her?
The elevator doors opened, and Lorraine’s palms started to sweat. Everyone waiting piled on, but she didn’t move.
“You coming?” a man asked. He held his arm across the elevator doors to prevent them from closing.
Lorraine straightened her spine and forced a smile. “Yes.”
She walked onto the elevator. Someone had already pressed the button for the third floor, so she stood and waited for it to ascend. Depending on how things played out in the meeting, if Douglas left her something significant and the family objected, she wouldn’t fight with them to keep whatever he’d intended for her to have. She hated family quarrels like this over material things, and she didn’t want to be a part of one. Though on a personal note, she wouldn’t mind giving Douglas’s family members a piece of her mind. Where had they been when their father, brother or whoever he was to them had been suffering and dying?
The elevator landed on the third floor. Lorraine inhaled a deep breath, then stepped off. She saw suite 309 immediately. It was the office directly to the right of the elevator. It boasted a large frosted-glass window pane and double doors. The name of the firm was inscribed in the glass to the left of the doors, and made quite the impression. It was certainly a more elaborate office than she’d expected, the kind of law office that Lorraine imagined people with substantial money would use.
She pulled open the right-side door, finding it heavy. Inside, there was a large silver desk structure to the left and chairs on the opposite wall, where three people currently sat, waiting. The receptionist, a young woman with an olive complexion and a full mane of curly black hair, smiled at her instantly.
Lorraine looked at the wall clock behind the reception desk. She had five minutes until the appointment. Perfect. She’d timed it so that she would arrive at the lawyer’s office just in time for the meeting. She didn’t want to linger in the waiting room and possibly see Douglas’s family members, who might have questions for her.
Lorraine made her way over to the reception desk. “Hello,” she said to the receptionist. “I’m here to meet with Joseph Finkel.”
“Are you Lorraine Baxter?”
“Yes, I am.”
The receptionist got to her feet. “Follow me. They’re ready for you.”
Lorraine’s stomach flip-flopped. They’re. Just how many people were in the meeting? One? Two? A small army? Again, she wondered if she should have told the lawyer that she wasn’t interested in whatever Douglas wanted to leave her.
Why are you so nervous about this? she asked herself as she followed the receptionist. But she knew why. She was fearing the worst. She’d seen far too many family members fight about assets right after a loved one had passed, and often even right in front of the dying person lying helpless on a bed.
The receptionist stopped in front of mahogany double doors at the end of the hallway. Etched into a gold plate on the door was the word Boardroom. The receptionist opened the right side of the door and stepped beyond the threshold. “Mr. Finkel, Lorraine Baxter.”
There was a middle-aged, dark-haired man at the end of the boardroom table near the door, and he immediately stood. “Thank you, Lucia,” the man said, then smiled in Lorraine’s direction.
Lucia retreated down the hallway, and Joseph walked toward Lorraine. Extending his hand, he said, “Hello, Lorraine.”
Planting a smile on her face, hoping to hide her nervousness, she approached the lawyer and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you,” she said.
“Nice to meet you, as well.”
Lorraine’s eyes wandered around the room, and she saw that there was only one other person at the table. A man sitting just to the left of the lawyer’s seat with his back facing her.
“Is this everyone?” Lorraine asked.
“Yes. It’s just the two of you.”
The man shifted in his seat to face her, and her eyes locked with his.
Lorraine reeled backward, losing her footing. Her lips parted on a silent gasp. Her stomach flinched violently, as though she’d just been sucker punched.
Oh, no... Oh, God, please...
His eyes widened, registering shock, and his face contorted. Then something else flashed on his face. Something akin to anger.
This can’t be happening! Lorraine’s heart began to pound so hard she could hear it thundering in her ears. She stood paralyzed as the lawyer released her hand.
Joseph Finkel gestured to the available chair on his right. “Please, have a seat.”
Lorraine didn’t move.
“Don’t be shy,” the lawyer teased. His tone was lighthearted, and he was clearly trying to alleviate her nerves. But he didn’t understand. He had no clue.
Lorraine tried to swallow, but her throat was suddenly dry. She began to walk across the room, unable to take her eyes off Hunter. He was holding her gaze, glaring at her.
Lorraine pulled her chair out and sat. “This is the only family?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
“You two are the only beneficiaries named in the will,” the lawyer explained. “Lorraine, this is Douglas Holland’s son, Hunter.” The lawyer looked in Hunter’s direction. “Hunter, this is Lorraine Baxter.”
Hunter merely nodded, but didn’t reach across the table to shake her hand. It was just as well. The last time he’d touched her, his hands had been giving her body immense pleasure, and his eyes had been smoky with desire. Now, he was looking at her with contempt.
Was this really happening? Or was Lorraine in the middle of a nightmare?
The very man she’d slept with—the man who’d rocked her world—was sitting across the table from her. How was this possible?
Suddenly, Hunter was standing, his large, athletic body looming over the table. Lorraine sucked in a sharp breath and leaned backward in her chair. But what did she expect him to do? Reach across the table and throttle her?
“Lorraine, is it?” He seemed to rub in the name, and may as well have added, “Liar.”
In hindsight, giving him a false name had been silly and unnecessary. But was it really that big of a deal? It wasn’t as if she’d planned to see him again. It would be a moot point if not for the fact that he was here right now, somehow back in her life.
“Yes,” Lorraine croaked.
Hunter stretched his muscular body across the table and extended his hand. His pale blue dress shirt strained against his well-honed biceps. Despite the situation, Lorraine couldn’t help checking out that fine form. He was gorgeous. Sexy.
A stallion in the bedroom.
God help her, this really was happening. Lorraine wanted to wither away and die.
“You don’t want to shake my hand?” Hunter asked, a challenge.
“Of course.” Lorraine wiped her palms against her skirt. “My hands are just a bit sweaty.”
Trying her best to give him a level, nonchalant gaze, she lifted a hand and accepted his. She felt a zap of electricity as it enveloped hers.
“Nice to meet you,” Hunter said. His words were innocent enough, but the look in his eyes was anything but. The tight set of his lips and the tautness of his jaw made it clear that he was barely keeping his anger under control. Was the lawyer picking up on any of the undercurrent of tension between them?
Lorraine was finally able to swallow. “Nice to meet you, as well,” she said, her voice sounding as if she had a frog in her throat. She quickly glanced away.
She tried to pull her hand back, but he didn’t immediately release it. Her gaze flew to his again, and he flashed her a knowing look. Only then did he loosen his grip, and Lorraine pulled her hand back. Her palm was sweaty, her heart beating fast.
Did Hunter’s anger stem from the fact that she’d walked out on him, or because he was shocked to see her here? His father had left her something in his will. She could only imagine the suspicious thoughts going through his mind.
“There’s no need to be worried or nervous,” Joseph Finkel said to her. “This time a trip to the lawyer’s office means a good thing.”
Obviously, she looked and sounded like a nervous wreck, to the point where the lawyer had to reassure her that she wasn’t about to be sued for millions of dollars.
Joseph tapped the folder in front of him and said, “All right, let’s get started. You are both here today for the reading of Douglas Holland’s will. Hunter, as I was telling you before, Lorraine was a nurse at the hospice where your father resided before his death.”
Lorraine glanced at Hunter, saw that he was staring at her. In fact, she knew he hadn’t stopped staring at her. She could feel his gaze burning her skin.
“His nurse, yes,” Hunter said, his voice monotone. “Interesting.”