Back at the station, we go separate ways to shower and then meet up in the kitchen for a late lunch.
“Are you from around LA?” I ask him as we sit at the table and tuck into a nice meal of meatballs and mashed potatoes.
“Yeah, I live not too far away from here, but I was born in Texas,” he says. “What about you?”
I tense as I invariably do when someone asks me about my past, however innocent the question is. The first thing I think is that they recognize me, which is silly because I’m twenty-seven years old, and the last time my picture was splashed across the newspapers, I was ten years old. No one would recognize me, and of course, I changed my last name and took up my adopted parents’ name.
I inhale deeply. “My parents live in Northern California.”
“Mine live in Texas,” he says. “As do most of my family.”
I’m curious about his scars, and close up they look like something sharp sliced him across his face. He has a drawl in his voice, though it’s not strong. I’m surprised at how easily conversation flows between us. I come across as friendly, but I have invisible walls that go up when I feel as if someone is getting too close. With Jack, I don’t get that feeling, and we laugh like old friends.
“You look familiar,” Michael says to Jack. “I feel as if we’ve met before.”
Jack peers at him and then grins. “Can’t say that I’ve met you before.”
Michael shrugs. “Maybe you resemble someone I know.”
Later, when we’re left alone in the dining room, Jack turns to me. “Hey, do you want to go for a drink after work?”
I was hoping he would ask. I smile. “I would love to.”
He grins back at me. “Awesome. I haven’t gone out with such a beautiful woman in ages.”
I raise my eyebrow. “Is that a pick-up line? It’s terrible.”
“I haven’t needed to do that in years. No more pick-up lines,” he says. I love the way his full lips curve over his teeth. Makes me wonder how it would feel like to kiss him.
We both laugh.
Chapter 2
Jack/Kyle
I’m relieved there’s no one in the locker room. I whip out my phone and text my driver and bodyguard, Ethan, to let him know that I won’t be needing him today. Next, I call my agent, Sebastian. We’re supposed to meet this evening, but it’s not urgent, and we can postpone it.
“Hey, I can’t meet you today,” I tell him while imagining his face screwed up with concern. Sebastian is a perpetual worrier, and I’ve tried to tell him that he’ll have a heart attack if he continues stressing over non-issues.
“Why, what’s going on? I thought you were leaving the station in the evening?” he says.
I grin. “I am, but I have a date with this sexy firefighter chic. Can you imagine how hot that combination is?”
I remember how she had taken charge when we were fighting the fire at the chicken shop, and I instantly grow hard. Tonight is going to be great for both of us. From the moment that Grace walked into the fire chief’s office, it had been instant attraction for both of us.
Sure, I’ve lusted after women before. That’s nothing new. I’m a virile male, and I enjoy women like the next man. But I’ve learned to be wary, and besides, I’m growing older. I’m no longer interested in one-night stands or getting together with fake shallow women whose only interest in me is my fame and wallet.
If I sound jaded, it’s because I am. I’m caught up in no man’s land. I’m not interested in a relationship, but at the same time, I find myself attracted to Grace, and I absolutely cannot stay away. Not even if there was a fire between us.
It helps that she doesn’t know who I am, nor is she likely to.
Sebastian’s groan brings me back to the present. “You promised this wouldn’t happen.”
“Did I?” I do remember I said that for the next two years I wouldn’t get tangled up with any woman.
The last time I’d been in a relationship, if you can call it that, had been a disaster. Emily had been recording our private conversations and taking loads of pictures of us. When the relationship reached its natural end, she had sold the story to the tabloids. For weeks, my face was plastered on the front pages. I was used to having my picture in the tabloids, but only when it had something to do with the movie I was working on. Or badly taken pictures by sneaky paparazzi.
These had been clear pictures of me without my guard up. Pictures where I’d looked at the camerawoman with trust because she had been my girlfriend. It had hurt. Terribly. In fact, on the day of the accident that scarred and changed my face, I had left Emily’s place after giving her a piece of my mind. I’d achieved nothing, and apart from a slightly guilty look, she hadn’t even apologized. Not that it would have made a difference.