Flirting With Fire (Hometown Heroes) (2 page)

Unfortunately, from
what I could find on our regional internet job sites, no one within a hundred
mile radius needed a massage therapist. Determined not to give up, I did a
search on all the spas and salons in Huntington, Columbia City and Fort Wayne. Surely someone needed my help. The Fort had by far the largest selection to
choose from, so that’s where I set my sights for a day of cold calling.

Ah, Fort Wayne. The ‘big city’, as Sarah and Mitch loved to call it. To the rest of the world,
it probably wasn’t very big at all. And truthfully, I’d never found its size
all that intimidating. But the idea of finally stepping outside my comfort zone
left me feeling conflicted.

Could I handle
such a radical change in environments? Trade my quiet, historic streets for
bustling concrete thoroughfares? Go from knowing every local, to being just
another face in the crowd?

An email alert
pinged on my computer, followed by the brief partial glimpse of an email. My
cell phone bill. And there was my answer. I needed money to pay my bills, and
I’d be darned if I was going to dip into my nest egg again.

So I showered,
tried my best to tame the unruly mop on my head, and brushed on some makeup for
good measure. Then I pulled on a flattering teal V-neck sweater, some bootcut
jeans, and comfortable heels that I knew wouldn’t kill my feet if I had to walk
more than a block or two. It felt odd, though, getting so done up at this hour.
Most weekdays, I worried little about my appearance. One of the benefits of
working behind closed doors in darkened rooms.

I headed into Fort Wayne late morning, business cards at the ready. While I drove, I rehearsed my
elevator speech over and over.
Hello, my name is Liz Williams. Yadda, yadda,
yadda.
By the time I reached the first stop on my list, I was nearly
bursting at the seams with excitement.

Unfortunately,
they weren’t hiring. Or the next place. Or the one after that. In fact, nowhere
in Fort Wayne did anyone seem to need a massage therapist. Maybe the job search
websites had really been right.

Tired, thirsty,
and dejected, I decided to make a pit stop before hitting the last business on
my list. I swung into a gas station off U.S. 24 downtown, filled up my tank, then
made my way inside to pay and grab a bottled water. The refrigerated section
was, of course, in the far, opposite corner—who designs these places, anyway? With
a sigh I wove through the aisles of junk food and other convenience store sundries,
intent on snagging a nice, tall Dasani.

I rounded a tall
display of Doritos that stood at the end of my aisle and reached for the cooler’s
glass door. But instead of feeling the cool metal of its handle slide into my
grip, my hand collided with a body that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. A
very
solid
body, with rock hard abdominal muscles.

“Oh!” I yanked
my hand back, mortified. “I’m so sorry!”

A deep chuckle
greeted my ears, and my gaze shifted to Mr. Abs of Steel’s face. His full,
daydream-worthy lips were drawn into an amused grin, which competed for
attention with the five o’clock shadow dusting his cheeks and jawline. His eyes,
the color of melted chocolate and fringed with dark, jealousy-invoking lashes, were
now focused squarely on me.

“I guess I
should have been paying closer attention to where I was going,” he said, his
voice deep and rich. “And if anyone was lurking in the aisles.”

“No, really, I
should have looked before I, you know.” I motioned toward the glass case and
struggled to put together a complete sentence. Damn that sexy stubble. “It’s
just…been a long day.”

“Sorry to hear
that.” He glanced toward the shop’s front window, and the teasing grin smoothed
from his face. “Well, don’t let me hold you up.”

He stepped aside
while I grabbed my drink, then took a Diet Dr. Pepper for himself. We both
headed toward the cashier, an awkward silence ensued. At least, I thought it
felt awkward. Him being all gorgeous and me being all…me.

Another customer
stood at the checkout counter, hemming and hawing about which scratch-off
lottery tickets to buy. More prolonged awkwardness. I shifted from right foot
to left, all too aware of the hunk standing within arm’s reach behind me. The
hunk with a bare left hand—not that I’d noticed.

Unable to stand
the silence any longer, I decided to turn around and attempt a little small
talk. His gaze met mine, curiosity clear in his eyes, and my mind went blank.
For the next few heartbeats, I stared at him like a deer in headlights.

His right brow
inched upward. In a panic, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“You don’t
happen to know where the Spa del Sol is, do you?”

Crap, what kind
of question was
that
? He’s a guy—guys don’t pay attention to spa
locations. It’s no wonder I stink at finding decent boyfriends…

“Sure, it’s over
off Wayne and Harrison. You just stay on Jefferson, make a left on Calhoun, and
then another left on Washington. The next light will be Harrison – take a right
and watch for an open meter spot. It’ll be on the left side of the street.”

His was the kind
of voice I could listen to all day. Unfortunately, I’d been so focused on his
handsome face that I only managed to catch half of what he’d said. “Um, okay. So
stay on Jefferson… Wait, I thought I was on U.S. 24?”

“You are. Only,
in town it’s called West Jefferson.”

“The same street
has two names?”

A smirk tugged
at his lips. “Darlin’, this street has at least four different names, if you
keep going east toward New Haven. Fort Wayne’s famous for naming the same
street multiple things.” He shrugged. “You get used to it.”

“Thanks,” I
said. “Maybe I will.”

Especially if
even a fraction of the guys in this city looked half as good as this one. Lord
knows I’d run out of options in Autumn Lake. Now all I needed was to land a job
and find a reason to stay. I turned back around and said a silent prayer that
this last spa on my list might actually need a full-time massage therapist.

CHAPTER
2

I stood outside
the closed, tinted-glass door of 201 W. Wayne Street, Suite 2B and drew in a
long, slow breath.
Calm, must get calm
. So what if this was the last spa
on my list of Fort Wayne possibilities? I could always go back to Google and
search for opportunities in other cities. Or towns. Or go work for Mitch as a
waitress. No big deal.

Oh, who the hell
was I kidding? I needed this job. Needed it in the worst way. Without a new
start in Fort Wayne, I’d have no reason to leave the small town I’d been
trapped in most of my life. But me barging into this place and puking my credentials
all over its owner wasn’t the best way to make a first impression, either.

At that moment
the door opened, and a woman in her mid-fifties stepped out. The sound of an
argument taking place deeper within the spa drifted out into the hall. I looked
around her as the door swung shut, trying to get a look at the irate
conversationalists.

“Don’t mind
them, dear,” she said with a dismissive wave. “It’s just Dawn’s hormones again.
Xavier’s going to have to learn to let her have her way if he’s ever going to
survive the rest of this pregnancy.”

With a shake of
her head, she continued down the hall. My gaze shifted from her to the door. Could
I really handle any more drama?

If it meant
securing a paycheck, then that’s exactly what I had to do. Just a few grand more
and I’d have enough for my own place, which I vowed would be a zero drama zone.
So suck it up, buttercup.

Ignoring the
warning alarms going off in my head, I pushed the door back open. The argumentative
couple—this Dawn and Xavier, I assumed—stood behind a modest reception desk
scowling at each other. Her hands were fisted onto two very pregnant hips, his arms
folded across his chest. The instant they spotted me, the scowls smoothed into
two warm, albeit forced, smiles. I took that as my cue, and took a few
tentative steps into the suite.

“Welcome to Spa
del Sol,” Dawn said in a voice sweet as honey. Her thick, luxurious dark hair
was swept up off her neck, and her skin carried that healthy mother-to-be glow.
The blue V-neck top she wore brought out the blue in her cornflower eyes. She
was stunning, even with her petite stature and swollen belly. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, I—”

“If you would
excuse us for just one more minute,” Xavier cut in, not taking his eyes off of
Dawn. “We have a little matter to resolve.”

Dawn turned back
to him, sweetness morphing to subtle fury. “The customers always come first,”
she hissed. “Isn’t that
your
motto?”

 His olive
complexion flushed scarlet. “They do, except when I’m discussing the well-being
of my fiancée and our unborn child.”

Dawn put her
hand up as if to block further comments from him and turned back to me. “What’s
your name, sweetheart?”

“Elizabeth. Williams. But you can call me Liz.”

“Okay, Liz. I’m
in need of a second opinion.”

“
Christ
.”
Xavier ran a large hand through his stylishly shaggy mane.

“Shut up, Xavier.
Liz, what is it that you do for a living, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I…I’m a massage
therapist.”

Dawn’s eyebrows
shot up. “Licensed?”

“Yes. I
graduated from Ball State in 2005.”

“Ah, they’ve got
an excellent program down there,” she replied.

“Will you get on
with it?” Xavier growled.

She ignored him.
“Reflexology, too?”

“Oh yes, I swear
by it.”

“Then would you
say if a woman is in her second trimester, with borderline high blood pressure
and ankles swelling up like balloons every afternoon, not to mention the
sporadic pain that radiates from her sciatic nerve” she turned to face Xavier,
“that reflexology alone is not the answer? Perhaps she shouldn’t be spending so
much time on her feet as well?”

“Well, I’m no
doctor but--”

“For the last
time, Dawn,” Xavier said. “I never said you couldn’t rest! This is our
child
,
we’re talking about. But we can’t just go canceling all your appointments
without finding you a suitable replacement first.”

Whatever confusion
Dawn had previously had about Xavier’s intentions suddenly cleared. She threw
her arms around him and squealed in delight. “Oh, darling! I
knew
you’d
come around!”

Xavier hugged
her back, shaking his head at the ceiling as he did so.
Welcome to the land
of constant mood swings, buddy.
I’d been through three rounds of this with
Sarah now. Eventually you learn to give them what they want in order to
preserve your own sanity.

Someday I hoped
to get the chance to be on the receiving end of all that grace myself.

Dawn reached up,
pulled his face to hers, and kissed him full on the lips. And it was no short
kiss. In fact, they remained lip-locked so long I began to wonder if I
shouldn’t try to slip out the door. Then again, I needed a job. And it sure
sounded like they would soon be hiring. Like right now.

I cleared my
throat.

The lovers ended
their kiss, but remained tightly intertwined. As Xavier reached up to tuck a
piece of hair that had slipped from Dawn’s jewel-encrusted clip back behind her
ear, he asked, “You are a massage therapist, Miss Elizabeth?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Any good?”

“From what my
clients tell me.”

“Excellent. When
can you start?” he asked, his gaze never leaving Dawn’s.

Yesterday. “Monday?”

“Perfect. Be
here Monday at eight a.m. Dress code is comfortable but presentable. No tank
tops, no flip flops--”

“Xavier!” Dawn swatted
at him. “You can’t expect Ms. Williams to take the job before she gets a chance
to see where she’ll be working!”

“Oh, what
was
I thinking?”

I knew darned
well what he was thinking. It had nothing to do with me, and everything to do
with his after-hours intentions with the petite vixen before him. Not wanting
to piss off my new boss before I’d even started, I took a step back.

“That’s alright.
I’m…sure it’s great.”

Xavier started
to nod at the same time Dawn spoke up. “Heavens, no! I’ll show you back there
now. It won’t take but a minute.”

She came around
from behind the front counter and took me by the elbow. Her fiancé watched us
go with narrowed eyes. I shrugged and offered him a sheepish grin, to which he
responded with a shake of his head and a heavy sigh.

The grin on my
face widened as Dawn led me into the depths of the Spa del Sol. Unless I did
something really stupid in the next five minutes, I’d done it—I’d landed a new
job in the big city. It seemed my luck was finally turning around.

* * * *

“Have you been
here before, Liz?”

I shook my head,
trying to free it from the hallelujah chorus ringing between my ears. A new
job! So much to do, so many clients to tell.

“No, actually I
haven’t.”

“Ah, then you’re
in for a wonderful surprise.”

We stepped
through a wide entryway skirted by thick, chocolate-colored curtains, and
stopped.

“Welcome,” she
said, “to the Spa del Sol.”

The spa was much
larger than I’d imagined, and appeared to take up the whole southwest quadrant
of the second floor.

“Our suite is
divided into three sections. The first is for hair,” she said, gesturing toward
a brightly lit area that contained four spacious, earth-tone decorated
workstations. Three stylists, two women and a man, appeared to be in the
process of cleaning up for the day. Dawn continued forward, forgoing
introductions.

“The next area
is dedicated to nails,” she said, offering a wave ahead as we passed through
another curtain-framed divide. “We have some of the best nail techs in the
city, honest to God.”