by Lynn Carmer
Charm School After Dark
Lesson 1
Lynn Carmer
Charm School After Dark: Lesson 1
By Lynn Carmer
ISBN: 978-0-9861308-0-9
Copyright © 2015, Lynn Carmer
Kindle Edition
Cover Design: Judy Bullard
www.customebookcovers.com
Editor: Mae South
www.badmamamae.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Other Books by Lynn Carmer
Contemporary Romance
Just For Tonight (Victoria Bay Series) Book 1
Just Don’t Go (Victoria Bay Series) Book 2
Charm School After Dark (Charm School Series) Lesson 1
Paranormal / Sci-Fi Romance
The Lasting
Fervor
Title under Rena Josephe (Lynn Carmer)
Urban Moon Anthology—Midnight Pyre
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Other Books by Lynn Carmer
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
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Note from the Author
Contact Me
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Chapter 1
‡
Four days and counting…
BANG, BANG, BANG! It was official. A tiny man with a massive hammer – and not the good kind – had taken up residence in her skull and was doing quite the remodel job.
Oh, Pinot Grigio, why do you punish me so?
Caelen Calvo half-sat, half-sprawled in the oversized armchair tucked into the corner of the long, airy room. She tugged, half-heartedly, at the top of the black sleeveless jumpsuit that was slowly creeping down her chest. The outfit was tight on top, smashing her girls at an odd angle, not that it mattered. She’d learned a long time ago that beauty was pain. This ensemble screamed old-school glam with a modern twist, therefore totally worth the discomfort.
Now, if I can just get rid of this screaming hangover…
Exhausted, she couldn’t even lift her head to admire her shiny, new-ish, “Lou Lous,” a pre-owned but fabulous pair of red-bottomed, black-studded, Louboutin heels. Though the shoes were out of her line of sight, she took solace in the fact that they were there.
Her cheek rested against an embroidered satin pillow and her eyes fluttered shut as she contemplated the shit storm she called life.
In the span of a few months, she’d somehow ended up loveless, jobless, and most recently, homeless. A further complication? No one in her life knew any of it. So far, she’d been able to keep most of that information on the down-low, but she didn’t think she could keep up the ruse much longer—especially when she was locked in a room with three nosy sisters who sniffed out drama like bloodhounds trailing a fresh scent.
The Calvo Quads, together again.
It was only a matter of time before they noticed that she’d temporarily made herself at home in the spare bedroom the sisters had occupied during their summer visits to Ms. Belle’s Charm School. Ms. Belle had always allowed the girls its use; it was like a home away from home.
Just never thought I’d have to use it for anything more than a visit.
Now she was secretly living in the spacious room. Luckily, she learned from past mistakes – no more over-packing – to keep things to a minimum and only bring the necessities, like shoes, of course. Piles and piles of shoes. Plus, a few tchotchkes: pictures, personal toiletries, costume jewelry, her collection of gorillas—Oh yeah, plus two full racks of clothes, but that was it. Except for the other boxes of shoes rammed into the back of her car which she planned to sneak in that evening.
Bzzz. Bzzz.
Damn. Her phone was blowing up, again. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who was making the call. Let it ring. Her purse was too far away to do anything about the endless texts.
“How much longer ’til our meeting with Mr. Brown?” Caelen called out to her three sisters, who were all lounging in her makeshift bedroom.
“About twenty minutes.” Her eldest sister by only a few minutes, Athena, answered as she walked toward Caelen’s chair. “So, looks like you were out drinking again. What a surprise. Brynn, what’s the date today?”
“The fourteenth.”
Athena ran a hand through her short, light-purple hair. Last month, it’d been green, the crazy, Incredible Hulk green every young celebrity liked to sport. “Right, the fourteenth. So, what does that make it, the fourteenth time this month that you’ve gotten wasted?”
Pretty much. Not that she needed Athena pointing it out to her. It’d been a hard few months.
“And why is there a shit load of shoes piled up in Ms. Belle’s room?” Little Mary Sunshine was just full of observations and annoying questions, today.
Caelen groaned. “Get off my back, Baby A. I’m not in the mood. And if you dare to refer to my shoes as a ‘shit load’ again, I’m going to have to hurt you. As soon as the little man with the hammer goes away,” she mumbled the last part, squeezing her eyes shut, willing the headache away. Her sister should have known she was serious when she used the “Baby A” nickname, their original hospital designation when they were in the womb. Too bad Athena was never one to pick up hints.
Bzzz. Bzzz.
“What’s that?”
Caelen didn’t bother to lift her head as she answered. “My phone. Just ignore it.” Like I do, every minute of every day. She just wasn’t ready to confront the texts.
“Ooh! Lookey, lookey! What do we have here?” Dacey had meandered over to the opposite side of the room and sat on a bench that lined a huge bay window that faced the back of the house. Dacey was the baby of the family, as far as they were all concerned, although she insisted there could be no “youngest” with quadruplets.
Athena answered. “Would you focus, Dacey? I’m trying to find out what the hell is going on with Caelen. Am I the only one who thinks she’s been acting weird lately? I thought you had it all together, for once.”
Oh, I did. Until I decided to screw my boss. “I’m fine.”
“Oh my God, it’s a fireman! Here, in Ms. Belle’s backyard,” Dacey shouted from her perch on the window seat, her springy, blond curls framing a heart-shaped face. “Known fact, ladies: firemen are the absolute yummiest of all the service related jobs.”
Caelen and Athena continued to stare each other down, not yet ready to be drawn in by the
irresistible pull of a sexy fireman.
Athena leaned in and said, “You don’t seem fine to me.”
Caelen shrugged.
“Where’s the fireman?” Brynn, the quietest of the bunch, and second oldest by one minute, asked as she walked toward Dacey.
“Out back, by the shed. I reiterate. The absolute hottest.” Dacey’s face was smashed against the glass to get a better look.
“Nuh-uh. What about a doctor in scrubs? Plus, he makes more money.” Brynn sat down on the window seat next to her sister, pushing her dark-framed glasses up her delicate nose, to get a better look.
“Meh. Give me a fireman, even a cop, any day.” Dacey responded without turning her head.
“How about a military man in his dress uniform?”
“Oh yeah, like those sailors in their cute, white, bell bottoms. Fleet Week. That’s still a thing, right?”
Now Brynn and Dacey were in their very own oversexed version of, “Mirror, Mirror, on the wall.” The two of them were talking over each other; she couldn’t tell who said what.
Oh wait, she didn’t care who said what.
Athena crossed her arms, exposing the colorful flower tattoo that dominated her right bicep, and stared her down. “You know this isn’t over, hon. You will end up spilling. That’s just the way it works.” Finally, Athena blinked and the high beams shooting from her dark green eyes shifted focus from Caelen and moved across to the back window.
Caelen ran a shaky hand through her dark hair, wincing as her fingers jammed into the dainty black fascinator that sat perched on the top of her head. She groaned softly, completely forgetting she was wearing the hat. In slow motion, careful not to move too quickly lest her head start to pound in retribution, she readjusted the front mesh, careful not to ruin her loose side bun. “Children, would you please stop drooling over the poor fireman, and come over here like the good, little girls Ms. Belle raised you to be?”
Each sister had a different response: one snorted, the second laughed and the third rolled her eyes. But none of them budged. Damn, that man must really be good looking for him to hold all of their attention.
“You’re just grumpy because you’re hung—and not in the way our friendly, neighborhood firemen out here is,” the loudest—and horniest—of all of her sisters piped up. Well, to be fair, Caelen had no idea if Dacey was really the horniest, but she was the most vocal about anything and everything that had to do with sex. She put the rest of them to shame. “Seriously, Caelen, you have to check this man out. He hasn’t even taken his uniform off yet, but I can tell by the way he moves that he could make a girl swear off vibrators. For maybe, like, a whole week!”
A whole week? This must be serious.
“Look! He’s walking toward the door and stripping down. Off comes the jacket. Oh. My. God. His shoulders are massive. He’s a brick house,” Brynn said with a wry gleam in her eye, adjusting her black-framed glasses as she leaned in for a closer look.
“Why is he stripping in the back of the school?” Caelen was curious but still couldn’t justify the pain the small walk would cause.
“I think he’s trying to make himself look presentable before he comes in. Remember Ms. Belle’s rule, no messy men allowed. Not that any of them ever follow the rules. Idiots.” Despite the purple hair and tattoos, Athena had always been the most regimented and structured of her sisters. Bossy was her middle name, but lately, something was off, she just seemed… harsh.
Note to self: Ask Brynn about what the hell was going on with Athena.
All three sisters were smooshed around the bedroom window overlooking the garden. Elbow jabs and butt bumps still didn’t make one of them budge.
“You know, there’s more than one window to peer out of.” Caelen said with one eye shut. It took too much energy to keep both open.
“No time. We might miss something on the way.”
Caelen laughed and then immediately sucked in a deep breath when a stab of pain went through her right temple. Slowly, she curled up in a ball and laid her head against the armrest, praying for the Ibuprofen to take effect. She’d been so upset the night before that she hadn’t employed her surefire hangover cure. The ol’ plop-plop, fizz-fizz worked every time. Unless, you’re so drunk you forget to take it.
“Looks like he has a tee shirt under the uniform. Damn, but… Oh yeah, baby! Here come the boots. One step closer to the money shot,” Dacey crowed.
Brynn grabbed Dacey’s hand. “The pants! He’s taking off the pants!”
Oh hell. Now she’d have to get up. No self-respecting woman could resist a sexy fireman stripping down to his skivvies. Caelen grasped both her temples, rose, and took a tentative step in her sky-high heels. She took one tiny step, then another, as she tiptoed toward her sisters.
“Button popped, zipper down…”
All three ladies gave a collective, “Ooooh.”
Rather than fight for a spot by her sisters, Caelen eventually made it to the smaller window to the right side of the room, and grasped the sill. White, crocheted curtains swayed in front of her, tickling her nose. She mustered the strength to push the starched drapes out of her face.
The sight that greeted her was worth the pain, and for a few seconds her pounding headache faded into nothingness. A six-foot wall of muscle greeted her bloodshot eyes. The firefighter had just toed off the last of his oversized pants, so all she saw were hard, tanned legs framed by thigh-length, black, boxer briefs.
He had his back to the group. A white tee stretched across broad shoulders. His arms were strong: muscular, long, big— like stacked bricks. A chill raced down her spine, because somehow she knew what they’d feel like. Warm, so warm. Inevitably, her eyes traveled toward her favorite part of a man’s anatomy. Well, to be honest, her second favorite part, but still. She loved a man with nice glutes.
Her heart almost stopped beating. Dear God, the man probably had the most mouth-watering ass in existence! It was muscular, round, and rock-hard, not massive but substantial and strong.
“Imagine the thrust a man can do with a tuchus like that?” Dacey piped up.
Amen, sister, Caelen thought as Athena lambasted Dacey for going too far.
Not daring to glance up, Caelen watched as the fireman with the ass that’d been touched by the gods, started to unzip the backpack he’d shrugged off his shoulder. He quickly shook out a pair of faded jeans and hopped into them in a quick one-two motion.
“Aw, man. This isn’t fun, anymore. I want to see skin,” Dacey complained.
“But aren’t you dying to know what he looks like?”
Hell to the yes. Brynn took the words right out of her mouth. She had to see the face placed atop such perfection. As if answering her prayers, the “hunka hunka burnin’ love” tossed off his oversized hat and ruffled his hair with a large hand.
Bow chicka wow wow!
His hair was a brownish blend of light and dark strands that spiked in the front after a haphazard finger comb, thick and long at the top, but short on the sides. A rumpled man. She loved a rumpled man. He brought to mind naughty things like warm skin and late nights.
An image of Victor popped in her mind, his silver temples styled to perfection, his expensive suits accentuating his slender build, so different from the man below. This guy moved with a leashed power rather than Victor’s reserved stride. At the idea of her ex, guilt hijacked her good feelings and revved into a corrosive joyride, careening through her chest, rivaling only the pain in her head.
Nope. She refused to let Victor’s memory ruin this moment. “Come on, baby. Turn around so Momma can get a good look,” Caelen whispered.
On cue, he turned and glanced toward the second floor. Most of her sisters screamed and crouched below the window.
Not her. No shame. She had to see his face.
It was everything she’d hoped for. His face was striking. Well, as close to striking as her blurry vision would allow. Glasses were not her thing, so she refused to wear them. They only saw the light
of day when she was tucked up tight in bed with her favorite book in hand.
Yet something felt off. A small question niggled inside her brain as her eyes trailed leisurely over his masculine features. She could make out a strong jaw, defined cheekbones. So familiar… It wasn’t until the side of his mouth kicked up in a decidedly wicked grin that Caelen froze.
She knew that smile—and the stupid face surrounding it.
All of the hot feelings that had been swirling through her chest and giving her the warm-fuzzies froze, coalesced, and dropped straight into her stomach. She felt sick all over again.
Right on cue the little man with the giant hammer came back into focus. Bang, bang, BANG!
Meanwhile, the fireman continued to stare with that idiotic grin on his face. It was all too much. Caelen opened her mouth and screamed.
Her sisters popped back up and finally focused on the man’s face instead of his gorgeous ass.
All hell broke loose.
Chapter 2
‡
SHIT. IT’D BEEN a hell of a day.
Who was he kidding? It’d been a hell of a year. In twelve short months, his life had gone from perfection to hell on earth. No, not perfection. He’d been lectured by his ex-wife that no one was perfect and that he had to stop putting people on pedestals.
No problem. Done and done. Janie was no longer his responsibility. She had a new Boy Toy to handle her now. The affair had started a good two years ago, and he’d kissed her goodbye the day he’d found out.
The only problem? Old beefs from his marriage were resurfacing and now affecting his job. He couldn’t, could not, believe his Lieutenant had suspended him for seven whole days. That gave him a week to figure out if he could live with the changes taking place at the firehouse. Or not.
The whole thing made him want to punch something. Hard.
Dare pulled at his collar, agitated, the familiar feelings of anger and dull rage ran so deep it coated his bones. It was too close. He’d spent most of his adult life avoiding those feelings, making the necessary choices to bring calm into his life, stability, peace. Because when he wasn’t calm, bad things happened. Really bad things.
Like rearranging the cartilage in someone’s face with just his fists.