One Hot Secret: A Second Chance Romance (Love on Fire)

by Sarah J. Brooks

  Not bad. I return to the living room just as the doorbell rings. I grab my purse, make my way downstairs, look up and down the street, and don’t see my car.

  “Are you looking for me?” a guy on a motorbike says to me.

  “Jack?”

  He slips off his helmet, and I see that it’s Jack. I shift my gaze from his grinning face to his obviously expensive bike.

  “Is this yours?” I ask him.

  “Yes, do you like it?” he says, holding the helmet against his chest.

  I grin. “I’ve always wanted to ride a motorbike.” I caress the side of the sleek-looking motorbike.

  I’ve always loved bikes, but I’ve never been brave enough to ride on one. I know a little bit about them too. Jack’s is a Harley Davidson and one of the most expensive bikes.

  “It’s beautiful,” I tell him as I walk around it, admiring it from all the sides.

  “Thank you,” Jack says. “Where are we going for dinner?”

  “This Mexican restaurant on Oak Street,” I tell him.

  He whips out his phone, and after a few minutes, he slips it back into his jacket pocket. “Got it.”

  He removes a second helmet from the saddlebag. It’s a woman’s size.

  “How many ladies have you taken for a ride on this bike?” I can’t believe I said that.

  He closes the distance between us and pushes stray strands of hair away from my face. He meets my gaze. “No woman had ever been on this bike. You’ll be the first.”

  All air leaves my lungs as Jack gently lowers the helmet over my head. He fusses with it until he’s satisfied with the fit.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he says, staring at me.

  I laugh. “You can’t see my face.”

  “It’s seared into my memory,” Jack says. “I don’t need to see it.”

  Something is different about him tonight. It’s as if all his defenses are down, and I feel as if our relationship has shifted. I’m just not sure in what way it has.

  Jack slips on his helmet and then reaches out to zip up my jacket. His touch sends an electric current sizzling through me.

  “So, a few pointers. Hang on to me as tightly as you can.” His eyes gleam wickedly.

  “Should I hang on just as tightly when I ride with someone else?” I ask innocently.

  “Hell no. That rule just applies to me,” he says gruffly. “I’m not good at sharing something that is mine.”

  I tremble at the raw possessiveness of his words. I want to be his. Badly.

  “Any more rules?” I ask him.

  “Just one more. Lean with me when I take corners. Okay?”

  “Got it,” I tell him, my heart still pounding from the intimacy between us this evening.

  He climbs onto the bike and invites me to climb on as well. I swing my leg over, glad that he sent me a proper dress code. I shift about until I find a comfortable position and then inch closer. I slip my hands around his chest. My body molds against his perfectly.

  “I’m ready,” I whisper into his ear, and moments later, the engine roars to life.

  It’s as if we’re flying as the bike starts to move. Jack is a fast but careful rider, and before too long, we’re on Oak Street. He brings it to a stop right in front of the restaurant and kills the engine.

  I slide out and take off my helmet. I laugh. “My hair must be a mess.” I shake it out.

  “Not at all. It’s perfect,” Jack says and takes off his helmet.

  He stores them away, takes my hand, and we walk into the restaurant together.

  “How was the ride?” he says. “Did it live up to your expectations?”

  “It exceeded my expectations. The only complaint I have is that it was too short.”

  “Easily remedied. I’ll take you for a ride to the canyon after dinner. I know a good spot,” he says.

  We are shown to a table on one end of the dining room. It’s a busy night, and we’re lucky to get a table. They don’t do reservations; it’s on a first-come, first-sit basis.

  Jack’s glance darts around before settling back to me.

  “I like the way you treat every new place like a novelty,” I tell him with a laugh. “You’re like a kid with a new toy.”

  He laughs. “Does my novelty show?”

  I roll my eyes at him. Jack is one of those people who have a natural zest for life. He eyes the world with a kid’s eyes. That must be one of the greatest gifts to have.

  The waiter brings over a wine list, and we both agree on a bottle of red.

  “Have you spoken to your parents today?” Jack says when the waiter leaves.

  “Yes, three times. Dad is a horrible patient. He’s testing Mom’s patience with his whining. She says he’s become a little boy.”

  We both laugh.

  “Men generally make terrible patients,” Jack says, staring straight at me as he speaks.

  That’s something else I love about Jack. If he’s with you, he gives you a hundred percent attention. He’s one of the few remaining men who don’t constantly check their cell phones. I’m sure the majority of the time, Jack forgets that he owns one.

  The waiter returns with the menu.

  For an appetizer, Jack and I agree to share a small guacamole dish with a side of blue corn chips. Everything looks so good. I always promise myself to be adventurous, but I always default to tacos.

  Jack goes for grilled fish.

  “I like this restaurant,” he says. “Do you eat out a lot?”

  “Isla and I make a point of going out for dinner every other weekend or so,” I tell him.

  “Your friend at the fire station,” Jack says, and when I nod, he continues, “you two are very close?”

  “We are. Of course, it helps that we’re the only two females at the station, but I think we would still be close. She’s an awesome person.”

  We talk about work and our colleagues. Being under my wing, Jack has not had a chance to bond with many of the guys.

  The waiter brings the wine we ordered and proceeds to uncork it and pour it into the glasses. “Your food will be ready shortly.” He gives a little bow and leaves.

  I pick up my glass and take a sip. When I look up, Jack is staring at me.

  “Do I have something on my mouth?”

  “No, I was just thinking how much I’d love to kiss you right now,” he says.

  I laugh, flattered that he finds me so attractive and is not shy about showing it. He makes me feel like the sexiest woman in the room.

  “I wouldn’t say no,” I respond.

  He picks up his glass and takes a sip of his wine. I like how his lips wrap around the glass, making me wish he was doing that with my mouth. He frowns as he puts down his glass.

  “Something wrong?” I ask.

  “Not the best wine.”

  I throw my head back to laugh, and then I look at Jack to see if he’s serious. He is. “Are you like an expert on wine?”

  “Let’s just say that I’ve had an opportunity to sample a lot of different wines. Wine doesn’t have to be expensive to be good.”

  His words are a stark reminder of how little I really know him. I remember Isla’s words of warning, and my blood goes cold. Is Jack someone I can trust? Why does he keep so much of himself hidden away? So many things about him don’t make sense. Like his bike. I know when someone is passionate about something, they can spend a lot of money. But a Harley Davidson?

  And what about our relationship? A week and a few days have already gone by. He doesn’t talk about us and what will happen after he leaves the station. I know it’s too soon.

  “Hey, you look like you have the world’s problems on your shoulders,” Jack says, drawing me back to the present. “What were you thinking about?”

  “Us and what will happen when your three weeks are over,” I say.

  He reaches across the table and covers my hand with his. Heat whips through me at the contact. I marvel at how easily my body responds to him. I’ve never had that with any
other man.

  “Don’t overthink it. Things will work out. You’ll see. All I know is that I’m not letting you out of my life,” Jack says.

  Emotion grabs me by the throat. Relief floods me as his words wrap around me like a warm blanket. “I’m not going anywhere either.”

  “Is that a promise?” he asks in a playful tone.

  I nod. “You bet.”

  The waiter brings our dinner and the rest of the evening is fun, magical, and the perfect date. Jack is charming and funny. He also has a gift of imitating people perfectly. He does one of the chief, and I laugh so hard that tears fall down my cheeks.

  “You’re really gifted, you know.” I wipe off the tears from my cheeks. “You’re wasting your talent at the fire station. You should be on stage.”

  Dinner was my invitation and treat, but Jack won’t let me pay for it. Afterward, we leave the restaurant, and I remind Jack about his promise to take me to the canyon for a night ride.

  “I was hoping you’d forgotten,” he mumbles as he slips the helmet over my head.

  I laugh at the tone of his voice. “Home will still be there after the ride.”

  “If you say so.”

  Chapter 10

  Grace

  “Oh wow,” is all I can say as I climb off the bike and remove the helmet. “We must be on top of the world.” The view from the top of the canyon is magnificent. Below us, the city lights sparkle like a thousand stars. LA is spread below us, so close yet so far.

  “Come, there’s a nice spot with some boulders where we can sit,” Jack says and takes my hand.

  We follow a path that leads to the other side, and just as Jack said, there are comfortable boulders jutting from the earth. He helps me up and then sits down beside me.

  “This reminds me of a spot in Newtown where we used to go as teenagers,” I tell him, memories of my youth coming over me.

  “A make-out spot,” Jack says.

  I laugh. “More or less.”

  “Did you let some ugly pimply boy grope you?” Jack says.

  “Ha ha, very funny. I went once. I never got invited again.” My chest constricts as if my painful teenage years were happening all over again.

  “Why?” Jack asks softly.

  I’m standing on the edge of a cliff with two options. To jump and trust that everything will work out as it should and I’ll find my footing, or to retreat and keep myself safe. I inhale deeply.

  “Everyone found out who my real parents were, and they treated me differently after that.” My voice is calm, hiding the avalanche of emotions whirling inside my chest.

  Jack’s voice cuts through the memories. “I don’t understand,” he says softly.

  I swallow hard. A wave of dizziness comes over me, and my legs feel as if they are made of jelly. Am I really going to tell Jack my deepest secret? My mouth starts to move of its own volition.

  “My biological parents were famous musicians two decades ago. You might have heard of them.” I haven’t said their names in so long that it takes a few seconds before I can gather the courage to say it out aloud.

  “Who were they?” Jack says.

  “Ricky and Ivy Ross. My father was—”

  “One of the greatest rock stars of our time, and your mother was an awesome singer too,” Jack says.

  “Yes.” I turn to face him, and what I see in his eyes is not shock or disgust but understanding. “So now you know my deep dark secret.” I smile, but it comes out like a grimace, I’m sure.

  He frowns. “How did you come to be adopted by Nora and John? I remember reading the news of your mother’s death. And your father’s.”

  “Suicide, you mean. My father drank himself to death a few years later, but by then, Aunt Nora had taken me to live with her and my uncle. She was my father’s older sister.”

  “That explains the resemblance between you and Nora,” Jack says.

  I smile at that. I like that I resemble Mom. I wish I were her and my uncle’s biological daughter. I wouldn’t have the secret of my parents’ past hanging over me and wouldn’t have to lie to my friends that I didn’t know who my parents were.

  “My parents were all over the newspapers and tabloids and when I came along, so was I. Poor love child, what chance does she have?” By the time I was eight years old, I’d seen the newspaper articles and knew that I was an object of pity.

  “I’m sorry, Grace,” Jack says. “That’s the very ugly side of fame.”

  “My parents were wild, and they had no business having a child. I was always left in the care of nannies, and those were the good times, to be honest. When my parents were together, they fueled each other with drugs, alcohol, and endless parties.”

  “I’ve read about them,” Jack says. “They fought a lot too, right?”

  “I still remember them screaming and throwing stuff at each other. Then when they were apart, my mother lost her mind when she saw pictures of my dad with other women. She had stopped performing by then. She spent her days reading everything she could about him when he was away.”

  My body trembles uncontrollably, and Jack quickly moves closer to me and pulls me close to him. He drapes a hand protectively around me, and the trembling stops.

  “You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to,” he says.

  The tears come then, and I sob as if my heart is breaking. That’s how I feel. I cry for the little rich girl who belonged to no one. I cry for the teenager who was humiliated when her friends found out that her parents were the most self-destructive musicians the world had ever seen. I cry for the little girl who more than once woke up in the middle of the night and found a bunch of strangers in the house, only to find out they were policemen.

  “I remember the night my mother took her life,” I continue. “My dad was in those magazines she read every day, but this time, instead of different women, he got pictured with the same red-haired woman. It was driving my mother crazy. She called him constantly until the hotel blocked her number.” It seems like someone else’s childhood now when I think about it.

  “Eventually, she got it into her head that he was going to leave her. That’s when she took an overdose. By the time the maid found her, it was morning, and she was long gone.”

  Jack squeezes me so hard he almost breaks me. It makes me feel safe.

  “Why were they allowed to keep you?” Jack asks harshly.

  I know the anger is not directed at me. It’s for two people who should not have been allowed to raise a child. “Their publicist did everything they could to make sure that word of how I was growing up never got out. Any pictures taken of me, I was in the care of a nanny. What the public and authorities did not know, however, was that sometimes I would stay for months without a nanny. No one wanted to work for them.” I’d kept these feelings hidden away for so long that talking about it felt like I was coming apart.

  “It’s sickening,” Jack says. “You shouldn’t bring a child into this world if you can’t take care of him or her.”

  “Very true.” I look up at him. “I can’t believe I told you all that. I’ve never told anyone, not even my closest friends. I think I sort of believed if I didn’t talk about it, it would disappear. Stupid, huh?”

  “Not at all. I think you’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met. You put all that ugliness behind you and made a life for yourself,” Jack says.

  “I can’t take credit for that. My parents did that. They normalized my life and taught me that home was a safe place.”

  “Come on, let’s go home,” Jack says and pulls me up to my feet.

  We follow the path down to the motorbike. Jack puts the helmet on me and then puts on his own, and we’re off.

  I’d always debated with myself if I’d ever tell anyone about my past. It was surprisingly easy to talk to Jack. He understood all of it, including my need to forge another life and put the past behind me. He drives fast, and in minutes, we’re pulling up to my apartment. To my surprise, my car is parked in its usual parking s
pace.

  “How did you do that?” I ask him. “Can you be in two places at one time?”

  He chuckles. “No, I got a friend to drop it off for me.”

  Jack holds me close in the elevator, and I rest my head on his chest. He massages my back softly. His cock presses against my belly. Evidence of his arousal gets me going too, and by the time we enter my apartment, I’m panting for him.

  He backs me up against the wall and slants his mouth over mine. We press our bodies together as our tongues tease each other. Pretty soon, we are panting with desire.

  Jack pulls away and lifts me up easily as if he’s been doing it forever.

  “I want to make love to you on the bed,” he says, his voice thick with desire.

  His words make my heart melt. So many firsts with Jack. I’ve never had a man want to make love to me. It’s always sex. I stare at him lovingly as he carries me down the hallway to my bedroom.

  He lays me gently on the bed and then undresses me slowly. I growl with frustration and try to help. He playfully slaps my hand away. “You’re a gift, and I want to enjoy unwrapping the package.”

  Tears unexpectedly fill my eyes. Just weeks ago, I would not have believed that I would meet a man who would openly adore me as Jack does. I don’t care that there’s a lot about him I don’t know. It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t taken me to his place. What matters is how he treats me and this special thing growing between us. With time, everything will fall into place. That’s what my mom likes to say.

  Chapter 11

  Jack

  “It was as though in the space of a few hours, we had found ourselves in hell, surrounded by a raging fire.”

  The voice belongs to Damon Knight, the character I’ll be playing in my next movie. He was the only firefighter who survived a raging wildfire in his hometown. I listen to nuances in his voice and visualize him speaking.

  A knock comes on the door, and I hit stop my computer and remove my headphones. “Yes?”