THE STARLIGHT HILL COMPLETE COLLECTION: 1-8

by Bell, Heatherly

  Diana took off her robe and settled herself among the pillows she’d propped on the bed. She opened her laptop and went to the document she’d titled, ‘Experiment’, forcing herself to read what she’d written the previous day. Then tried not to gag at how awful it read. Many authors were extremely gifted at writing both emotion and sex in a beautiful and compelling way.

  She wasn’t one of them.

  She sighed. It couldn’t hurt to keep trying. Learning something new never hurt anyone. She attempted a few more achingly awkward sentences, winced, flinched, felt flushed, giggled and tried to think of another euphemism for ‘it’. That made her wonder all over again why she couldn’t just use the word ‘penis’ and call it a day. Tired already, she went back to her email to Bradley when she thought of another good “I’d rather” phrase.

  An hour later, Diana had one paragraph written in her ‘experiment’ document. One horribly bad paragraph in which she had twice referred to a woman’s genitalia as ‘her special purpose’. Eyes glazed over from the effort, she took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. My goodness she was tired. All this romance was exhausting work. Maybe she’d just take a little catnap and try again in a bit. She closed her eyes and drifted off.

  What couldn’t have been more than a few minutes later, Diana shifted in her sleep because she was way too warm even though she’d left the air conditioner running. She couldn’t remember pulling the covers up but she tried pushing them off anyway only to find they weren’t there. She pried one heavy eyelid open.

  A column of fire rose to what had to be five feet high near the window, giving off its sweltering heat. “Oh my God.”

  For a second, Diana didn’t move. She couldn’t. Then every survival instinct she owned and some she didn’t woke up. God! Oh God, where was her cellphone? It was always near her bed and now that her life depended on it, nowhere to be found. She went for the landline. Wait. Somewhere she’d read she was supposed to get out first, then dial nine-one-one. Well, no time to argue with her memory.

  She went ahead and dialed. “There’s a fire in my room! Motel 6 on Monterey Road.”

  “Ma’am, get out of the room. Now. We’re on our way.”

  Right. Right. Get out of the room. She was an idiot to call from the room.

  The fire crackled, growing bigger and stronger, taking the curtains next. The whoosh sound the fire made caused her to stare in fear at its power. And Diana froze. How could it be that now, when she needed to move and move fast, her legs were like blocks of dried cement?

  Get out Diana, get out.

  Outside she heard someone yell, “Fire!”

  In the next moment, her frozen legs finally remembered how to move and she used them to get to the door. But as she moved past her bed, she tripped on something sharp and unidentifiable in the dark and smoky room. She tried to right her balance, waving her arms around to grab onto something and catching nothing but air.

  * * *

  Scott Turlock had a royal flush and probably the worst poker face at Firehouse 54. If he wasn’t careful this great hand could go sideways on him. He made a conscious effort to relax every plane of his face and slip on a dead-eyed look.

  “I’m all in.” Ty Gilham, Scott’s lieutenant, threw in his chips.

  The guy had mastered the poker face, and it was anyone’s guess at what he had in his hands.

  “Aw, you ain’t got nothin’.” Mike Yee threw in his chips.

  Julie Hall, the only female firefighter on their squad, studied her cards like they contained the mysteries of the universe.

  “In or out, Julie?” Mike sighed loudly. “Sometime today.”

  “Hold on. I’m thinking.” The tip of her tongue flicked out and touched the corner of her mouth.

  She was cute, and Scott had dated her in high school for about a nanosecond. One thing she wasn’t? Decisive.

  “Trying to rearrange them isn’t going to give you a better hand,” Ty said, staring at the ceiling as if praying for patience.

  Scott figured instead Ty was probably plotting Julie’s death.

  She frowned at their lieutenant and stuck out her tongue. “I know that.”

  In the background, the big screen television donated to them by a kind citizen was tuned to the Channel six news. Another wildfire in a state park. While Scott sat around with a deck of cards in his hands, forest firefighters were fighting a raging out-of-control beast. He wanted to help, had already asked to be placed on the volunteer list. Sitting here looking at his royal flush wasn’t being useful. Not the way he wanted to be.

  “Julie, for all that’s holy!” Mike threw up his hands. “I just lost another brain cell.”

  “Oh all right.” Julie threw one chip in the pile. “I’m in, I guess.”

  Correction. Julie Hall had the worst poker face at Firehouse 54.

  His turn. Hell yeah. Every face turned to him. “I’m all in.” Scott pushed forward every chip he had. For the first time in a long while, he had a good hand. Sweet.

  The radio squawked and dispatch called out engines required to respond. Their unit.

  Scott jumped to his feet and shoved on his gear. Everyone moved at lightning speed toward their rig, their poker game forgotten. Ty held the iPad with the info coming in from dispatch. As they rode, Scott listened to the address of the neighborhood, a little motel on the outskirts of Starlight Hill. Fortunately the ETA was two minutes.

  This was what Scott lived for, the adrenaline rush every single time he came face to face with the sheer force of a fire and walked away to tell about it. As they arrived, flames shot from one of the first floor windows.

  They were met by a wild-haired woman, hair sticking up every which way. “You guys got here quick! I saw the flames coming out of that bottom unit and I called right away. I think everyone’s out.”

  “No!” A kid with a name placard that read ‘Orlando - desk clerk’ said. “Someone checked in earlier and I don’t see her out here.”

  “Was she alone?” Ty asked.

  “Yeah, I think,” the kid said. “She checked in alone.”

  Everyone sprang into action. Mike unfurled the hose and hooked it, the rest of them throwing on their self-contained apparatus so they could go in as needed. The building was spread out in an L shape, but all rooms were on the first floor which would make this easier.

  “Turlock, Yee, search and rescue,” Ty called out.

  Scott headed straight for the unit the desk clerk had pointed out. If someone was still in there, smoke inhalation was his worst fear. They could be trapped and in serious trouble.

  And time was not on anyone’s side. He had seconds.

  Scott wasted none of them, trying the handle with his gloves and finding it locked. He had no choice but to knock the door down with his ax, conscious of the fact he was about to feed the beast. As he pried the door open he stepped out of the way in case of a backdraft. Relieved he’d avoided that scenario, he made his way inside the room. Fortunately, these units were small and in no time he spied the figure of a woman lying on the floor near the bed. He picked her up in his arms and started moving towards the door.

  She coughed, eyes fluttering open to give him a wild and confused look as she struggled to get away from him. He understood that. Sometimes people got disoriented in a fire. He’d seen it many times. But they both had to get the hell out of here. Yesterday. Once he had crossed the threshold and had her safely outside he took another look at the woman in his arms.

  He’d hauled out a few fire victims in the past year, but never one wearing the kind of lingerie that would headline a grown man’s wet dream. Thankfully, no sign of burns on any part of her body, and he could see all of it. Hopefully, this uh…thing she wore, was fire retardant. God help him. He had noticed his victim’s generous rack. Well, if this wasn’t one for the books.

  He headed toward Trish—the EMT—and the ambulance nearby.

  “Found her on the floor,” he said as he laid her down on the gurney.

  “I tri
pped,” the woman said and coughed several times. “My foot hurts more than anything. Is everyone out? Did anyone get hurt?”

  He didn’t answer, not wanting to give false assurance without more information. Instead, Scott grabbed a blanket and covered her with it. Everyone here tonight had seen enough. He’d seen enough. Scott headed back to help, and only after the area was secured and units were being checked for stability did he go back to check on some of the tenants.

  “If you’re looking for the girl, she got taken to St. Vincent’s to get checked out,” Julie called out. “She’s probably going to be fine. Poor thing couldn’t stop asking about everyone else. Wanted to make sure no one was hurt. My guess? She’s going to want some clothes for when she leaves the hospital. Ones that cover all her private parts.”

  “And I’m betting everything in that room is smoke damaged, wet and pretty much ruined.”

  “I feel bad for her,” Julie said. “Look, I’ve got some extra clothes I keep in my gym bag. She looked about my size. Why don’t you take them to her at the hospital? You know you’re going there anyway.”

  Julie knew him far too well, but yeah, he was always one to follow up. Not everyone did. He’d been warned time and again by more seasoned firefighters that he should start putting up walls between him and the people he helped. Not the reason he did this gig.

  Julie gave him a sly smile. “Think she’s new in town? Pretty, isn’t she?”

  “No comment.” His only thoughts were about the woman’s safety, and okay, maybe a small amount of curiosity as to why in the hell she looked so familiar.

  * * *

  The flimsy hospital blanket hardly covered Diana adequately enough, even shoved up to her neck. Somehow in the chaos she’d lost her glasses and being this nearsighted meant that everyone around her was bathed in fuzzy shadows as though part of a hazy dream. But no matter how much she might wish for it, this was no dream or nightmare. This was a Category Crazy mess. She’d spent the rest of the night in the hospital ER, among the single worst hours of her entire life, and though she’d been pronounced clear to go home she still had no clue as to the state of her possessions.

  She’d nearly died of smoke inhalation, secondary to death by embarrassment. If it were possible to die of awkwardness she’d be dead to rights, but here she was in the emergency room of St. Vincent’s hospital alive and well, dressed in fine lingerie. Smoky fine lingerie.

  She’d been assured over and over again by the nurses and the police officers that had stopped by to take her statement that all the motel’s tenants were fine and accounted for. That was the only thing that mattered, but she couldn’t help wondering if she’d lost everything in the fire. She hadn’t brought everything she owned with her on this trip, but that still meant her laptop, her phone, her glasses. Not to mention the folder of all the agent and editor rejections slips she’d collected over the years and Bradley’s Save the Date.

  Good riddance to that.

  Losing everything was one way to start over. Just not what she’d had in mind.

  A new nurse walked in to take her vitals. Again.

  Diana removed the oxygen mask from her mouth. “Before you ask me too, no, I don’t always dress this way for bed. And no, I wasn’t expecting anyone. And yes, I would love it for someone to bring me some clothes. And no, I’m not going to ask my elderly grandmother to do it.”

  “Relax,” the nurse said. “Your blood pressure just spiked.”

  “Are you sure no one got hurt?’ Yes, she’d already asked a dozen times but one more couldn’t hurt.

  “Now, now. You should be worried about yourself. I thought your foot might need stitches, but you’re lucky there too. Is there anyone you can call? Anyone you can stay with?”

  “My grandmother. I can stay with her.” Only Diana still didn’t know how she’d leave here without her car. Gran didn’t drive anymore, one of the reasons Mom was worried she was a shut-in. And Diana sure in hell wasn’t going to leave the ER wearing nothing but her lingerie. “Do you uh, do you have something I can—”

  “Borrow to wear home? I’ll see if I can find something in my locker. Maybe an extra pair of scrubs.”

  “Thank you.”

  The nurse opened the curtain and nearly ran into a man. “Scott! Are you here to see our patient? Here she is, alive and well. Thanks to you, I hear. This man right here is one of our finest.”

  “She might need these,” the fuzzy looking man with the deep voice said.

  Her glasses! The nurse handed them over to her, and Diana slipped them on. She glanced up to thank the kind man and— her heart slammed against her ribs.

  Holy patron saint of firefighters, would you take a look at this one? He’s gorgeous.

  And yes, dark brown hair curled ever so slightly at the neckline, disheveled in the right way… in other words not purposely and with a lot of gel, and dark green curiously probing and intent eyes that— oh. No.

  Would this horrible day ever end?

  He sure looked like a grown-up version of Scott Turlock. Buck wild, rough and tough Scott Turlock. She hadn’t seen him in twelve years, since the horrible summer of her sixteenth hellish year. With any luck, he wouldn’t remember her. What good fortune that her teenage crush had now seen far more of her than dates who paid for dinner first. And now, the look on his face— all easy and relaxed, like he carried women dressed in lingerie around all the time. No doubt he did. His hard body was one tight coil of masculine grace.

  She, on the other hand, was nearly naked and cowering under a blanket. “You were the firefighter who carried me out?”

  “Yep.”

  “T-thank you,” Diana managed. For the first time, she noticed that he carried what looked like a bundle of clothes. She didn’t dare hope, but only stared at his hands.

  “Brought you some clothes.” He placed them on the edge of her bed and stuck his hands in his navy blue cargo pants pockets. “They’re Julie’s. She’s one of the firefighters and she thought you might want to borrow them.”

  She met his eyes. Still curious, still intent and alert, but no hint of recognition in them. So far, so good. He didn’t seem to remember her at all. She might possibly salvage something of this night. “They tell me no one got hurt.”

  “True.”

  “What about…the damage?”

  “Smoke and water mainly. You’ll have to find another place to stay.” He shifted to his other leg, looking uncomfortable. “And probably need to replace most everything you had in that room.”

  Bad news, but not totally unexpected. At least he was being honest with her. “Yeah. I figured.”

  She unfolded the clothes, trying not to look at him. He might be older now, taller, larger, but he was still exactly how she remembered him. Every teenage girl’s fantasy. Now every woman’s fantasy. Whenever she’d been around Scott, the air seemed to snap and crackle between them. The air, twelve years older now, was still snapping and crackling away.

  Holding the clothes to her chest, she lifted her gaze. Damn him, he was studying her. Probably trying to place her.

  “Okay, look. Not that it’s any of your business but I like wearing nice things to bed. I’m a writer and I was looking for a little inspiration. So basically, I was working. In case you were wondering.” The rather humiliating answer was actually the truth. Not that he would believe her or anything.

  He grinned, and hot damn he still had a killer smile. Boyish and mischievous. “I wasn’t wondering.”

  She melted a little bit because that smile had always been so… intoxicating. “Then what are you staring at?” Please, please don’t remember me. Not now. Give me at least a chance to put on some real clothes and maybe get a new life first.

  He cocked his head. “How do you feel? You okay?”

  “I’m fine. I’ve had all the tests and they all say I’m good to go. They keep saying they’re about to sign my release papers, only that was about four hours ago.” She’d lost track of time, but one look at the large clock
on the pasty white wall and she could see it would soon be five a.m. Gran would be getting up soon.

  “Paper work. It takes time. Do you need a ride somewhere?”

  No way. That would only give him more time to remember. “I couldn’t bother you with that. No thanks. You’ve done enough.”

  “You have someone picking you up then?”

  “No, but maybe I could call a cab.”

  One eyebrow rose. “Have you ever been to Starlight Hill before? Because we don’t have cabs.”

  Right. The town wasn’t exactly a metropolis. “I’ll figure something out.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I’m here.”

  No one else had offered, and she literally had no one else to call. “Sure. Let me change.” He didn’t move so she brought up the blanket to her chin as a hint. “I’m not going to do it in front of you.”

  “Didn’t think so.” He stepped behind the curtain, swishing it closed. “So how have you been, Diana?”

  Oh God. Diana slapped her forehead and shut her eyes. He did remember her. Of course he would, because this was going right along with the kind of spectacular year she’d been enjoying. “Um, fine? Except for the fire.”

  Liar. You’re running, and that’s never a good way to start over.

  The jeans were a size eight, the size she used to wear before she’d gained five pounds in the last month, worrying about her life and eating way too many tortilla chips. Not that a man who looked like he bench pressed in his sleep would know what it was like to be addicted to chips. Diana groaned.

  “Is everything okay in there? Do you need help?” How nice. Sounded like he was chuckling.

  “No!” She sucked in a big breath and closed the top button. Thought maybe she felt her kidney quiver in pain. Then she struggled to snap on the one size too small bra, and put on the t-shirt he’d brought. She wiped her lenses clean with the edge of the t-shirt, slipped them back on and opened the curtain. Damn. This was an old prescription, but he was still as good looking. Sun-kissed brown hair, intent deep green eyes. Strong jawline, chiseled chest by every indication of the way he filled out that SHFD t-shirt.