Fan The Flames (Man Of The Month Book 3)

by Michele Dunaway

  “So how do you make a bulletin board anyway?”

  “Framing materials and some cork.”

  She motioned to the center of the room. “You’ve done a beautiful job on this place. I can’t even imagine what it looked like before.”

  This was a safe topic. “A mess. I went room by room and gutted it. It’s been doable because of the historic tax credits.”

  “Ah. Well, it’s gorgeous.”

  “Glad you like it.”

  “I love it.”

  “Good.” Satisfaction filled him. For two years he’d built it with her in mind. Then his brow creased. When put like that, he worried he was obsessive. More stalker than wooer. He stepped toward the back door, needing space. It was one thing to imagine things from afar, to fantasize and dream. To make believe. It was quite another thing to see those plans coming to fruition, to have the reality come true. She was here, and they had a date. What if said reality failed to meet expectations? What if all these feelings were just figments in his mind? A delusion? What then? The large kitchen seemed claustrophobic. “I should go. Dishes are done and it’s late. Call or text me if you need anything.”

  “I don’t want to bother you.” Her smile wavered as he took another step back. Had he sounded cold? Aloof? He hadn’t intended that. Several women had called him an unfeeling bastard, and he knew they were right. He jerked a hand through his hair. He feared he’d hurt Scarlett before they’d even had a chance to really get to know each other, before he had his chance.

  “You could never be a bother. Seriously, call me anytime. If I don’t answer, it means I’m on a fire call and I’ll get back to you right away,” he said.

  She appeared more reassured. “Okay.”

  “Promise me.”

  She smiled then. “Okay. Promise.”

  He let out a whoosh of pent-up breath. “Perfect. You can depend on me. I’m here for you. I want to be here for you.”

  “Thanks. That means a lot.”

  Although deep down Brad knew he wasn’t a knight in any type of shining armor. He moved back into her space then and planted a kiss on her forehead. Her skin was soft and smelled of soap. “Sleep well.” He drew away, grabbed his coat and didn’t look back.

  “Oh, Brad,” she called when he was halfway out the door. A blast of air swirled in.

  “Just so you know, I’m going to find that calendar.” She smirked at him, and something inside him bloomed.

  “Not if you know what’s good for you,” he teased back.

  “How do you know it wouldn’t be?”

  And therein lay the trouble. “Good night, Scarlett.”

  “You too,” Scarlett called, clearly pleased she’d won that round of … could it have been flirtation? Or just fun between platonic friends?

  Brad closed the door behind him, lifted the parka collar to keep out the wind and made his way across the small backyard to his studio. He unlocked his door, went upstairs, turned on a lamp, saw the letters he’d removed from the envelope in his locker now sitting on the table.

  They would have fun, he determined. Because Todd wanted it that way, and Brad owed it to Todd. He also owed it to himself. Finally, once and for all, he needed to either see if his love for her was real, or if it was just something he’d built up in his head. He prayed for the former and feared the latter. Only time would tell.

  Chapter Four

  Scarlett bought a new dress. Not that there was anything wrong with her two other gowns. But when she’d taken them out of the storage box and lifted the clear, protective dry-cleaning plastic, her eyes had begun to water. She’d sniffled. Then she’d simply let herself have a short cry, until Colleen had come into the third bedroom and asked, “What’s wrong?”

  Scarlett had wiped away the tears and lied that she’d gotten dust in her eye. Then she’d pulled out the dresses and told Colleen about each of the events she’d attended with Todd. She told her about the delicious food. The dancing. How handsome her daddy had looked in his fancy uniform. She’d even let Colleen step into her glittery sequined heels and trot around, laughing as her daughter clacked on the hardwood floors, her pink painted toes peeking through the hole. Her daughter’s antics always cheered her up, and soon Scarlett stowed the dresses safely back in their plastic wrapping, hung them in the closet and closed the door.

  She gave herself one last look in the mirror. Her mom had taken her out for a day of pampering. She’d been scrubbed, buffed and professionally made up. Her wavy hair was up in a knot, although two wispy tendrils draped by each ear. Smokey eyelids blinked. Red lips pouted, the color somehow not clashing with her hair—the makeup artist had been correct when she’d insisted Scarlett try the shade. As she stared at her reflection, she had no idea who this pretty woman was. Hadn’t ever seen her before.

  “You look like Cinderella.” Colleen sat on the closed toilet lid, her own lips stained pink with a swipe of Scarlett’s usual shade. “But she wore glass slippers. And she had yellow hair.”

  “I feel like Cinderella,” Scarlett admitted. She touched her bare throat. The midnight blue dress had a higher, more modest neckline, and she’d decided against a necklace. Pearls would be out of place, and except for a thin gold chain, she really didn’t have anything that wouldn’t appear shabby. No, better to go without. Besides, she did have earrings, and she touched the small diamond studs, her only real piece of jewelry and a gift from Todd after he’d received the SEAL bonus.

  “You’re beautiful, Mommy.”

  “You think so?” She held out her hand and Colleen took it. Skirt swishing mid-calf, she led her daughter out to their second-floor living room.

  “Brad will think you’re beautiful too.”

  That assertion made Scarlett’s heart jump, which was silly. Despite living in his house, she’d hardly seen him this week. If he had come in to shower before work—and she knew he had because the alarm on the intercom system he’d installed had beeped—he moved like a ghost. He’d drywalled the third floor. A bulletin board had appeared, with Colleen’s picture tacked up dead center. Now the board was full of crayon artwork. The beeping of the alarm being armed had told her when he’d left. The few times they’d passed, he’d smiled at her and then looked away. It was like he was avoiding her, sort of like he’d done in high school after she’d started dating Todd.

  The intercom buzzed, indicating someone had pushed the back doorbell. “He’s here.”

  “Or maybe it’s Granny again,” Colleen said, following her mom down to the kitchen door.

  Or maybe both, Scarlett thought as she saw Brad and her mother standing on the back porch. “Look who I found,” her mom said as she entered first. “He was right behind me on the walk.”

  “Brad!” Colleen shouted. “You’re all dressed up.”

  Scarlett swallowed as butterflies began to thump against her chest. He wore a black tux that fit like a glove, completed with a black tie and cummerbund. He’d added some gel or something, his hair combed back from his face and tucked behind his ears. Had he gotten a trim? She tamped down the desire to thread her hands into that hair, for Brad was a friend. Friend with a capital F.

  Although flirting also began with an F, which they had been doing the other night. Or so she thought. She’d replayed their good-bye in the kitchen over and over before chalking it up to renewing old acquaintances.

  “Had to dress up,” he told Colleen, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “It’s a black tie event. Had to wear this monkey suit.”

  “You don’t look like a monkey. Monkeys have bigger ears and lots of fur.”

  “It’s just an expression,” Scarlett tried to explain. “Means he feels silly.”

  Colleen processed this. Brightened. “Oh. Mommy, do you feel like a monkey? You’re all dressed up too.”

  “No,” she said.

  “Your mommy is too pretty to be a monkey.” His eyes darkened as his gaze roved over Scarlett, and unable to help herself, she blushed. “I don’t remember seeing that dress in any of
the pictures.”

  “It’s new.”

  “New city, new dress,” her mother added. “Speaking of pictures, stand over there and let me take one.” Bernadette took out her phone and gestured them together. Brad wrapped his arm around Scarlett’s waist. Such an innocent gesture, but Scarlett felt her face flame as he drew her to him. Her knees weakened and she wrapped her arm around him. He was a few inches taller than Todd, but with her heels she fit against him fine. As if she belonged there.

  “Smile,” her mom directed. “One … two … three…” She leaned back and checked the phone screen. “Perfect.” She made a shooing motion. “Now both of you get out of here and go have a good time. You’re cutting into my grandma time.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Brad extended his arm to indicate Scarlett should go first. Flustered from the effect of one brief touch, she stepped forward and grabbed her long, black wool coat. “Here, let me,” he offered.

  He held it open and she stepped in, his fingers lightly grazing the nape of her neck as he settled the coat on her back. A delightful shiver ran down her spine. “Thank you,” she said, taking another step forward. Fingers fumbled with the buttons. One tiny tickle of him touching her skin and her whole body had gone haywire.

  She stepped out in the brisk night air, the weather on this Friday the thirteenth having turned colder. “So much for it being decent for the Mardi Gras parade tomorrow. We got lucky with the pet parade last weekend. That was in the mid-fifties.”

  “Yeah,” Brad said. “Felt like a heat wave once the snow melted. But later tonight the wind’s going to shift. It’s going to get ever colder. Maybe even have some more snow later in the week.”

  “Lovely,” Scarlett said. “I hate snow. Why did I move here again?”

  “So you could go to this fancy schmancy ball with me and save me from all the hordes.”

  “Oh yes,” Scarlett teased back. “I’d almost forgotten.”

  “Her indifference wounds me,” Brad joked. He placed a guiding hand on her back and they walked to his Honda Pilot, which he’d backed out of the garage. Scarlett’s mom was parked next to the Prius on the extra parking pad. He opened the passenger door, reached in, and removed a square, white box from the front seat. “I thought you might like one of these.”

  “Thank you.” Touched, Scarlett opened the box, and thanks to the streetlights, could see that he’d bought her a Mardi Gras–themed wrist corsage made of purple-and-gold ribbon and orange roses. “It’s beautiful. I’ll put it on when we get there.” Brad assisted her into the car and shut the door behind her. “So no uniform?” she asked, meaning his firefighter dress attire. Todd had always been in his dress uniform for military balls.

  “Not for this.” Brad put on his seat belt and she did the same.

  “Well, the tux suits you. I may have some difficulty fending them all off.”

  “Ha.”

  “I’m serious. You’re attractive.”

  He started the car. “You find me attractive?”

  “Well, yes. I’m a woman. Any woman would. You’re not ugly.”

  He backed into the alley. “Gee, that’s an endorsement.”

  “You know what I mean. You’re handsome. You look great in that tux. Getting married didn’t make me blind. If I hadn’t been with Todd, I would have made a beeline toward you.”

  “And now?” He eased the SUV out of the narrow alley and onto northbound Grand.

  “Well, now I’m the luckiest woman there. I get to be with Mr. July, and it’s made even better because he’s a good friend. And, no, I still haven’t seen the calendar because I unpacked all week and you asked me not to.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” She’d done it because she wanted them to be friends, and being friends meant respect. Scarlett averted her gaze and stared out the passenger window to take in the city she hadn’t seen in years while Brad concentrated on traffic out the front. Luckily the Blues hockey team was out of town, so they wouldn’t have to compete with hockey fans for spots in the City Hall parking lot. However, Scarlett saw that didn’t matter as the event provided a valet service. “Part of the ticket,” Brad told her after she asked.

  City Hall had opened in 1904, and the front of the Renaissance-revival-style building was all lit up. Purple, green and orange lights cast a festive glow on the massive building. Scarlett had been here only once before—to get a marriage license. After dark, the place transformed like one of those Night at the Museum movies, just without the animals and talking statues. The harsh fluorescent lighting was gone—those same colorful lights from outside infused through open space and created patterns on the marble floor. Festive banners draped down pillars. Masks hung suspended in the air. Waiters worked behind strategically placed bars.

  People lingered on all floors, with the VIP tables on the second and third floors. Some revelers wore colorful masks complete with feathers and sequins that clearly they’d bought themselves, while others didn’t wear even the free masks being handed out. Dresses varied from short to long, with the majority like hers, Scarlett saw with great relief. In fact, it seemed as if almost anything festive was appropriate; some partygoers were even dressed in festive Mardi Gras costumes. As for the men, most were in formal tuxes, although some had opted for brightly colored bow ties in keeping with the Mardi Gras theme. Others wore vests that might be found on a court jester, and many, like Brad, simply wore black tie.

  Although, none wore it as well as he did, Scarlett thought as they checked their overcoats. “Wait a minute.” Brad drew her to a quiet corner and took the corsage out of the box and placed it on her left wrist. His fingers caressed her wrist and fire spread. “Like it?”

  Her mouth had dried, but she got the words out. “I do. Thank you.” The hand that held the empty box trembled, and Brad took it from her. He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

  “Yes.” They strode across the rotunda floor. He might not be a politician or one of St. Louis’s rich elite, but men nodded in greeting. Women smiled appreciatively and gave him long sideways glances. Probably thinking of his exposed torso in the calendar, Scarlett thought. Not that she blamed them. Already, at times, glimmers of interest flickered in her brain—until she uncomfortably shoved them aside. First, it seemed almost like a betrayal of Todd, although she knew that being a widow didn’t mean she was dead too. Yet, she didn’t grieve like she had in the beginning. The hurt had faded—and for that she felt guilty. Todd had never made her quiver the way a few innocent touches from Brad had. The sizzle from his every contact burned its way through her and she resisted the urge to rub her wrist where it still tingled.

  “What do you want to drink?” Brad asked as they queued up at the bar. Nearby a juggler entertained a small crowd. Down the way, a mime pretended he was stuck in a box.

  She paused. How long had it been since she’d been out? At least two years. Maybe three. That was probably the last time she’d had alcohol, too. Single moms were more likely to curl up with the kids and drink chocolate milk. “I’ll take white wine.”

  He took her hand and studied the corsage, sending the butterflies in her stomach into flight. “Who knew those colors would work so well? I’ll be right back.”

  Brad headed for the bar and Scarlett worked to calm her nerves. A woman dressed as a harlequin came by and draped a multicolored boa over Scarlett’s shoulders. She toyed with the feathers, trying to make sense of how Brad made her body react. She wasn’t a giggly young girl. But as he returned her heart jumped. He turned to hand her a short, plastic wineglass. In his hand, he held a red aluminum Budweiser bottle. He used it to point to the boa. “Where’d you get that?”

  She shrugged. The woman was long gone, off to spread the Mardi Gras cheer. “We’re up on the third floor. The calendar committee actually reserved some tables for us,” Brad told her.

  “I guess the view’s better.”

  He grinned. “Well, the high rollers pay more to be on the second floor. The rest of the tables are g
eneral admission, first come, first served, I guess. This is my first time at this.”

  “Then our first date is an adventure for both of us.” They walked up the wide staircase, and Scarlett was glad he couldn’t see her face. Calling something a first date implied there would be a second.

  As they ascended, they left the first-floor entertainment behind. “There’s supposed to be an acrobatic show before the band begins playing. Heard it’s eighties music tonight.”

  “It all sounds interesting,” Scarlett said, taking in everything as she passed by. They found their table, where they were seated with several other calendar guys and their dates or significant others. Scarlett met so many people, she felt like her head spun. There was Taylor Krebs, the calendar photographer, who was engaged to firefighter Joe Marino. They’d met the day of the shoot, when she’d done Brad’s photos as well. Scarlett also met vet Kat Saunders, who was dating animal task force cop Jack Donovan. She and Jack had met at one of the first calendar balls and bonded over an injured puppy. “We’ll probably see you at a lot of these,” Kat said. “Being that you’re new in town, if you need anything, call me.”

  “I will,” Scarlett promised, the wine and good company allowing her to relax.

  The circus show came complete with aerial acrobatics, and the live band followed. She’d been born in the eighties but still recognized many of the songs, although she wasn’t singing along like many of the older guests were.

  Still, musical era be darned, she hadn’t danced in forever, either, and as the heavy bass beat pumped through her, she wanted to dance. So she grabbed Brad’s hand. “Let’s go dance!”

  “Okay.” They made their way down to the dance floor and joined the crowd waving their hands. The pounding energy was infectious, and she and Brad stayed out for a second, then a third number.

  “This is so great!” Scarlett shouted over the music.