TheBurnList

The Burn List

Julia Devlin

After spending her thirtieth birthday
with her parents, straight-as-an-arrow Abby Simmons drowns her sorrows in a
bottle of tequila and a splash of margarita mix.
All she wants is a little
excitement, one chance to go wild before she settles back into her regularly
scheduled life.
Fueled by liquid courage, Abby sets out to give herself the
perfect gift—her bad-boy neighbor, firefighter Lukas Marlow.

Sure, Lukas likes intoxicated girls
looking to turn their fantasies into reality as much as the next guy, but this
is sweet little Abby.
Definitely on the do-not-touch list.
Determined to save
her from embarrassment, he sends her away with an order to sleep it off and a
promise to fulfill her desires in the sober light of day.
Confident he’s scared
her away for good, nothing could have shocked him more than an email from Abby the
next morning, outlining her sexual to-do list.

Turns out his quiet neighbor isn’t
such a good girl after all, and Lukas has no other choice but to make her burn.

Chapter One

Home on her thirtieth birthday by seven thirty.
How wild.
How crazy.

How sad.

There’d been nothing special about the day.
Nothing to
distinguish it from any other boring day of her life.
Well, unless she counted
the piece of double-chocolate fudge cake she’d devoured.

Normally she didn’t let herself have dessert.

Abby Simmons slammed the door to her Honda Civic and started
the depressing trek to her front door.
What had happened to her?
Where was the
exciting life she’d dreamed about?
So far, she hadn’t done one exciting thing
in her whole miserable life.

Weary, she sighed.
It was official.
She was throwing herself
a nice little pity party and intended to enjoy every minute of it.

“Hey, Abby.”
Neighbor Lukas Marlow’s gorgeous head shot up
over the bushes separating their houses.

She jumped and let out a screech, dropping her work bag on
the sidewalk.
“Don’t scare me like that!”

From behind the shrubs that separated his house from hers,
he rose like a Greek god to his full six-four.

She gulped.
Of course he was shirtless.
Toned muscles,
probably honed by hours in the gym to stay in shape for all his heroic rescues
as a firefighter, gleamed in the fading evening sun.

The deep dimple on his left cheek creased when he smiled.
“Sorry about that.
How’s the birthday girl?”

She wanted to snarl.
Instead, she picked up her bag and
slung it over her shoulder.

Why was he so freakin’ unbelievably good-looking?
With his
stupid chiseled jaw, full mouth, thick dark brown hair and hypnotic matching
eyes, he was the poster child for tall, dark and dangerous.
The big jerk.

He’d lived next door for a year, and it had taken her six
months of run-ins before she could talk to him without stammering like an
idiot.
Even now, she practically salivated every time she saw him.
It was
humiliating!

Not that he suffered from the same affliction.
Nope.
Not
even a little bit.
Quiet, reliable little Abby was the best-friend sidekick,
never the object of desire.
Lukas treated her with nothing but respect.
The
bastard.

That dimple still on full display, he winked.
“How was
dinner with your parents?”

She wrinkled her nose.
What was there to say about dinner
with the folks?
Other than singing “Happy Birthday” they’d spent the rest of
the time dealing with her big sister’s latest drama.
Eden always stole the
show.

And like the good girl Abby was, she sat quietly, nursing
her one glass of wine and thinking she’d rather be curled up on her couch
watching TV.
“No big deal.”

Those dark brown eyes sparkled with good-natured
friendliness.
“So, the big three-o… You stopping home before heading out on the
town for a wild night?”

Ha!
Her wild nights consisted of watching
The Daily Show
followed by
The Colbert Report
in bed before drifting off to sleep.
“Nope, I have to work tomorrow.”

A grin Lukas probably reserved for returning lost kittens to
their elderly owners flashed across his stupid gorgeous face.
“Saving your
celebrating for the weekend, huh?”

Revealing her boring weekend plans of going to a movie with
her best friend Jane to the man whose weekends probably consisted of nonstop
sex romps with a couple of orgies thrown in for good measure was not on the
to-do list.
The last thing she needed was his pity on Sunday as he pushed his
latest glamour girl out the door.

With considerable sarcasm, she said, “You know me, one party
after another.”

He ran his hands over his washboard stomach, wiping away the
dirt that clung to his perfect body.
Hell, if she got to touch that, she’d
cling too.
She scowled.

“Good for you, but remember what I told you,” he said,
completely missing her scorn.

Annoyed…and getting crankier by the minute, she parroted
back his favorite line.
“Yeah, yeah… Stay away from guys like you.”

“Good girl.”
Lukas was a whole three years older than her,
and therefore had taken it upon himself to act like her much older, much wiser
brother.

It made her want to jab him with a sharp object.
Maybe then
he’d pay attention.

When he’d moved to the quiet tree-lined street, nestled on
the outskirts of Chicago, she’d known he’d never give her more than a passing
glance.
The treatment she received was exactly the treatment she expected from
a man like Lukas.
If she were Eden, it’d be a different story.
But Abby knew
her place and expected nothing different.

Still, the knowledge grated.

“Sure,” she said, wanting to get away from this miserable
conversation.
She turned, starting back up her front walk.

“Happy birthday, Abby,” he called.

She waved over her shoulder, wishing she could flip him off
without looking like a lunatic.
In ballet flats that looked fashionable on
other women but sensible on her, she bounded up the stairs two at time,
desperate for the comfort of her house.
Moments later, she’d shut out the
outside world and slumped against the cherry wood front door.

This sucked.

At fifteen, she used to lie on her bed and dream of the day
she’d be free.
She’d dreamed of traveling to exotic lands, going to fantastic
parties where some mysterious, powerful man would sweep her away.
Obviously
she’d spent too much time sneaking her mother’s Harlequins.

Now, fifteen years later, she was a bored, dissatisfied
thirty-year-old accountant who’d never really done anything remotely
interesting.
What had happened to that girl who’d craved adventure?
She threw
her purse on the foyer table, kicked off her shoes and padded into the living
room.

Unable to help herself, she walked to the big picture
window, watching as Lukas attacked his bushes with a hedger.
Those heavily
muscled biceps bunching under the exertion, gleaming with sweat.
He was to die
for.

She hated him.

Sick of her own pathetic thoughts, she turned away from the
window and stomped into the kitchen, yanking open the refrigerator.
She reached
for a bottle of water only to freeze when a bottle of ready-made margarita mix
she’d forgotten caught her eye.

She stared at it.
A good stiff drink, that’s what she
needed.
She nibbled her bottom lip.
Did she really want to drink alone on her
birthday?

What the hell.
She was damn tired of feeling sorry for
herself.

She pulled out the bottle, grabbed the tequila hidden in her
top cabinet and a glass with ice.
She filled the tumbler half full of alcohol
and splashed some of the margarita mix in to take out the bite.

She’d have her own freakin’ party.

* * * * *

Thank you, Jose Cuervo.
One hour later, tequila had
done wonders for Abby’s mental perspective.

So she was thirty and destined for a life on the straight
and narrow.
Who cared?

There were worse lots in life.
Acceptance was the key.
So
what if she’d never travel to exotic lands or was whisked away by a handsome
stranger?
Big deal.
She was almost forty percent sure excitement was overrated.

Safe and narrow was great.
Exactly where she needed to be.
According to the actuarial tables, she’d live a long life, so it was important
she accept her nature.

But…

Would it be so bad to have a little wild?
Just once?
Was it
too much to ask to have one teeny, tiny adventure?
Didn’t she deserve fun and
exciting one time?
Since she’d be living so long, she’d need some memories for
her old age.

Lukas Marlow would be fun.
The idea prickled at the
back of her mind, and she sat up straight, her heart pounding.
No.
She
couldn’t.
Ha!
As if he’d even consider it.

But…what if?

The man looked as though he knew his way around a woman’s
body.
Didn’t she deserve one wild fling with a man who knew what he was doing?
It would give her something to fantasize about when she settled into life with
a guy who kept his socks on during sex.
A flutter of excitement, mixed with
hope, licked in her belly.

No, it was impossible.
He’d never go for it.
She had no
seduction skills.
And even if she did, they wouldn’t work on him in a million
years.

Deflated, she settled back on the couch and took an
unladylike slug of margarita.

But…what if?

Abby scowled, it was time to face facts.
There was no Prince
Charming coming to rescue her.
If she wanted wild, she was going to have to
take care of it herself.

And why not her?
Sure, with her limited experience, she
didn’t have the skill to seduce him, but a simple proposition might work.
She’d
appeal to him as one friend helping out another.
Like asking him for a
neighborly cup of sugar…but with orgasms.

He liked sex.
He had enough of it.
And he was a guy.
Guys
didn’t turn down free sex.
Did they?

Besides, she was tired of sitting back and letting life pass
her by.
She’d turned thirty today.
The time had come to get what she wanted.
And she wanted a wild, no-strings-attached fling with Lukas Marlow.
The worst
thing that could happen was he’d say no and she’d never be able to face him
again.
Big deal.
She only lived next door.

The liquid courage racing through her blood spurred her to
action.
Before she could change her mind, she hopped off the couch, ready to go
to his house, only to glance in the mirror across the room.

She frowned at her reflection.
She couldn’t go over there
like this.
With her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, no makeup and dowdy
work clothes, she looked more like a candidate for Librarian of the Year,
instead of a sex kitten.

Lips pursed, she thought through the clothes in her meager
closet.
Very limited choices, but she’d have to make do.
She had decent
cleavage.

Oh!
She could put on a tank top—without a shirt over it!

Yes, that might work.

There was no time to waste.
Her nerve and buzz wouldn’t last
all night.
She was a woman on a mission, determined to take control of her own
fate.
She’d make her own excitement.
Her own fun.

Downing the rest of her drink, she slammed the empty glass
on the coffee table.

She was going to proposition Lukas Marlow for sex.

And she wouldn’t take no for an answer.