Hearts on Fire: Romance Multi-Author Box Set Anthology

by Violet Vaughn

  I laugh at her as I turn to take off my helmet and assess the damage. “I didn’t mind one bit.” Fluffing up my hair, I can see her in the mirror. “You were right about Nick. He is darn adorable.”

  “I know, right?” She lets out a contented sigh.

  After hot chocolate, Blaine offers to drive me to my car. The blinker ticks as he prepares to turn into the parking lot. He says, “Next week we should take one car.”

  I let out an inner squeal. Next week? I point to the left. “I’m that older white Saab over there.” I think Tuesday is my new favorite day. There are butterflies in my stomach as he pulls in next to my car.

  The gearshift clunks into park, and he turns toward me to reach over and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. It sets off a tingle in my veins. His hand drifts down to my cheek, and it’s warm on my skin as I hold my breath. He leans in, and soft lips touch mine. Once there, he presses a little harder, and his tongue darts into my mouth. I taste chocolate, and the stubble of his cheek is rough under my fingers as I hold his face. As he breaks away, his voice is low. “When can I see you again? Tomorrow?”

  I take a deep breath and try not to panic. “Yes.” He leans in and kisses me again. This time it’s deeper, longer, and more passionate. Warmth travels to my belly. Inhaling the barely-there spicy scent mixed with his musky male odor, I calm myself. My hand slides in his jacket and onto his chest. Strong muscles strain against his tight turtleneck under my palm.

  When he pulls away, I squirm a little in my seat. Wow. I’m actually flustered. I manage to open the door to leave. “Tomorrow?”

  He grabs my skis and hands them to me. “Tomorrow. I’ll be home around four thirty. Want to come over for dinner?”

  “Sure, where do you live?” I step out.

  “I’ll text you the address.”

  “Great.” I push the door shut and dig in my pocket for my keys. This is good, but my stomach rolls with more than excitement that I’m attracted to Blaine. Part of my queasiness is that he’s not Jason. I turn the ignition, and my engine revs to life.

  The moment Blaine drives off, I grab my phone to text my best friend Gretchen, who still lives in Vermont. “I just kissed a guy who wasn’t Jason.”

  “??”

  “Why do I feel like I’m cheating on him?”

  “Because you’re being a pansy-ass girl. You left Jason to move on, and that’s what you need to do.”

  Move on. I glance in my rearview mirror and watch Blaine drive away, and I wonder if I’ll ever find a way to replace my love for Jason.

  8

  The next few weeks are full of evenings with Blaine and Tuesday double dates with Nick and Megan. And kissing, lots and lots of kissing. We haven’t moved past it, which has been fine until now. But it’s starting to seem weird.

  I think Blaine needs a little push, and I decide to dress a little sexier than usual. I pull out a matching plum bra and panty set. I imagine Blaine’s strong fingers removing them from me as I wiggle into my jeans. I’m tempted to forgo the panties, and the thought makes me flash to the last night with Jason. I inhale sharply, and I shake my head. No, better not go there.

  Tara, one of my housemates, works in a wine-and-cheese shop downtown, so on my way to Blaine’s, I go there for her assistance with the wine. It’s a wonderful place full of unusual flavors, and when I arrive, I’m greeted by a pungent smell. Blue cheese is set out with crackers, and there are tiny sample cups of wine next to it. I pick one up to sniff.

  “Casey!”

  I turn toward the voice and see a bubbly girl in a dark-green apron with a shirt that shows off her ample cleavage. I notice I still have the wine in my hand and drink it down. Fire hits my empty stomach like a tiny bit of liquid courage.

  She looks at me and whistles a catcall. Her twang gives everything she says a tone of appreciation. “Dang, girl, you’re smokin’ hot. Whatever you plan to bring that beefcake you date, he won’t be eating it. You’re going to be the main course.” Every man in the shop looks at me. No, everyone in the shop looks at me. Heat surges to my face.

  I knew this was the right place to come. If anyone could boost my self-esteem, it’s Tara. “You’re just what I need.” I say, “Can you help me?”

  “You got it, sugar. What do you want?” Her perfume wraps around me.

  “The most seductive wine you’ve got.”

  She puts one hand on her hip. A long red fingernail taps her lip. “Red or white?”

  “Let’s go with red.”

  “Oh, I’ve got the perfect one. It’s from Chile and has spicy undertones. If he hasn’t melted after you set him on fire, then this will do it.”

  “I hope so.” I wring my hands as I wonder if this is such a good idea after all.

  “Whoa, girlfriend, don’t do that.” Tara grabs me by the arm and pulls me in the back. “You’re a delicious woman. He’s probably taking things slow because he thinks that’s what you want. Once you let him know you’re ready for more, he’ll be devouring you.” She gives me a wink and the once-over with her eyes. Shaking her head, she lets out a big sigh. “Uh-huh. He’s in trouble.”

  I giggle and then say, “Thanks, Tara.”

  Walking out of the shop, I am unstoppable. The cold air on my face tries to cool me down, but it doesn’t work. My cowboy boots clack along the snowy sidewalk to ensure everyone can hear my approach. I arrive at Blaine’s door and arrange myself a bit. Taking a deep breath, I brace myself. My finger pushes the icy metal button to ring the bell, and Blaine opens the door with a sensual smile on his face. He’s in a denim shirt unsnapped one more than usual, and I detect his spicy male scent. As I step in, I see candlelight dance on the walls. What the...? Did he read my mind? On the small dinner table, a bottle of something bubbly is in a bucket of ice. Interesting.

  Now I’m torn. Do I or don’t I pull out the bottle of wine? The odor of sage is in the air, and I know it’s not our usual pasta and salad. “This is very romantic, Blaine. What’s the occasion?”

  “Did you know it’s been three months since we met?” His warm hand wraps around mine, and he leads me toward the couch.

  “Oh, I hadn’t really thought about it, but you’re right.” This guy is too sweet.

  “Ski season is almost over, and I’m in the mood to celebrate what a great winter this has been.”

  He steps close to me, and the chill on my face burns off. His lips move with more niceties, and the words seem far away as I’m overcome with the desire to touch his bare chest. I reach out with my hand, and the snap on his shirt is slippery in my fingers as I say, “Uh-huh.” My insides are a puddle, and I can’t help myself when I reach up to pull his head down to me and kiss him with a bit of force.

  Blaine reacts by pulling me close, so I slide my hands down over his butt. It’s round and firm in my grip as I grasp the rough denim to pull him even closer. His hands stay at my lower back, and their heat sears through me as I reach around and slide one of them up toward my breast. I wait for him to do something with it, but he keeps kissing me as his fingers stay still. Just below my breast, over my shirt like I glued it there. The flame dies.

  Seriously? What am I going to have to do to get to second base with this guy? I think it’s time for wine after all. I pull away and go to my backpack. “You know, it’s funny. I felt a need to celebrate too.” I take out the wine, and my boots clack over the tile as I walk over to the kitchen. In search of a wine opener, I open a drawer and find it in a silverware pocket all by itself. With renewed determination, I grab it and attack the cork.

  “You do look extra fabulous tonight,” says Blaine. “What about Mrs. Matheson?” He places himself on the couch.

  “She’ll never know about one glass. I smell garlic, which should mask any odor if by chance she got close enough to smell my breath.”

  I pull the cork out with a pop, and wine splashes into our glasses. I walk over to Blaine and hand him the goblet of deep-burgundy liquid as I raise mine. “To meeting you, Blaine Johnson.”


  “To meeting you, Casey Cassidy.” Deep tannin flavor with a hint of spice spreads through my mouth. The wine burns as it goes down, and I imagine it flowing through my veins, magnifying my senses. I glance at Blaine to make sure he’s drinking too.

  I walk over to the sound system and find some Adele for the music. I hope her sultry voice awakens his desire. But Blaine gets up to work in the kitchen, and my attempt is lost. When pots rattle, it hits me. Gretchen. My best friend will know what to do. Seduction is her specialty, and I need a little of that mojo, so I slip away to the bathroom with my phone and text her. “Trying to seduce B, sexy clothes, makeup, perfume, candles, wine, Adele. Not working, help?”

  Within seconds she replies “Adele?! Fuck. Hang on.” Crass as ever, she makes me smile. I wait. “Blow job.”

  “What? That’s kind of a jump from just kissing. He won’t even go to second base.” I’m not doing that. No way.

  “Seriously. Suck his dick. No man on earth would refuse it. Then, he’ll do whatever you want.”

  Crap, that is so not helpful. Looking in the mirror, I adjust my breasts a little higher, pull my neckline down a little lower, and try to think of plan B. I walk out of the bathroom and toward Blaine. I grab the wine bottle, and it’s cool in my hand as I top off his glass. Hell, I top off mine too before we sit down to eat.

  Dinner is delicious, but I don’t eat much as I wonder how I’m going to get my boyfriend to do more than kiss me. I focus on getting wine into Blaine, and when he’s on his second glass, I notice his eyes shine. Good, because I’m a little drunk too. Now maybe we can get somewhere.

  After I clear the table and put the dishes in the sink, I glance at Blaine on the couch to notice the glow of his phone eerily light up his face as he checks e-mail. I saunter over to him. One knee at a time, I straddle his lap and lean down toward his neck. I inhale his sexy odor and kiss his throat, and as I make my way up to his lips, his phone thuds on the couch when he drops it. His strong hands hold my face. Feeling brave, I take his hand and slip it under my shirt as I ask, “Touch me?”

  Blaine slides his other hand under and cups my breasts over my bra to squeeze gently. My nipples tighten in response. Now we’re getting somewhere. His lips caress my neck with small kisses, and I groan to let him know I’m turned on.

  I sit back and slowly pull off my shirt. My hair is soft on my shoulders, and I shake my head to make it fall forward. Blaine’s eyes get big. So he likes this? Good. I unhook my bra and dip a shoulder to let the strap fall. My boyfriend is watching in awe, so I trail my fingers across my chest to tease him before I remove the bra. My nipples harden at the cooler air, sending fire to my core.

  “You’re beautiful,” Blaine says. His eyes are heavy as he gazes at my breasts, yet he doesn’t reach for me. Suddenly it’s awkward that I’m sitting here topless while he watches. I lean in and kiss him again. Finally, his hand moves to my breast of his own accord as his kiss gets deeper. But when he squeezes, it doesn’t seem sexual. It’s like he’s kneading dough. I roll off him and lay down on the rough upholstery of the couch. He climbs over me to kiss my lips, and I grip the soft cotton of his shirt to release it from his jeans. My hands slide up the smooth skin of his back, and goose bumps rise under my fingers. He sinks down on top of me with a moan and starts to kiss my neck. His hardness presses against my thigh. Anticipation twitches through me as I wait for him to move lower, but he doesn’t. Instead, he rises up to kiss my mouth again.

  Sweet Jesus, this is frustrating. I yank at his shirt, and the snaps pop as I open the western-style buttons. I peel it off him and pull him close. The sensation of skin against skin sends a shiver through me. His desire presses against me, but it’s waning? I lift my thigh to press against it, and I’m sure. I’m about to explode, and he’s losing steam. We’re still kissing, but now it seems wrong, so I push him up and say, “I need a breather.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.” Blaine gets up and goes to the bathroom.

  I glance around the room as my nipples pucker from the chill. I should feel sexy, but right now all I feel is exposed. I notice Blaine’s leftover wine and take the glass to finish it off before I get up to pace. What is he doing in there?

  I cross my arms over my chest and flirt with putting my clothes back on as the bathroom door swishes open. I turn toward Blaine as he approaches slowly. He’s naked, displaying his rippling muscles, as well as his arousal. He looks at me in a seductive way that makes me think I should be melting. But right now I’m kind of freaked. Oh, God. What is he doing? Are we skipping the foreplay?

  He flips off the lights. I look at his rock-hard butt as he bends to blow out the candles around the room. The scent of melted wax drifts over to me. Okay, maybe I can find my way back. He doesn’t speak, but his presence overwhelms me. Blaine’s gentle fingers take my face in his hands, and I let out the breath I was holding. When he kisses me deeply, my tongue meets his, and his arms tighten around my waist. He presses his body into mine, and his need pulses against my stomach as he moans. This is working for him, so I try to get back to where I was. I envision fingers sliding between my legs; I see Jason’s face. What? Oh shit. I pull my mouth away in horror. When I try to pull my body back, Blaine won’t let go.

  He whispers, “I know, babe. This is intense.”

  Blaine starts to kiss my neck and groans as his body tenses and then relaxes. Warmth radiates against my belly. Realization stabs me. No. Did he just? Oh, ick. I force myself to suppress the urge to shudder from disgust.

  Blaine steps away and falls back on the couch. “Oh my God, Casey. That was. It. Oh.” He sighs.

  I’m dumbstruck. Hello? Was there only one of us involved there? I grab my clothes and go to the bathroom to clean up. The moment I shut the door, I shake my head in disbelief. What the hell? No, that doesn’t do it justice. As Gretchen would say, that was fucked up. I grab a washcloth and don’t bother to wait for warm water from the tap when I turn it on. The terry cloth is rough and cold on my stomach as I wipe and try to pull myself together. Numbly, I get dressed.

  When I push open the door, it’s no longer dark. Blaine is in his jeans with that ripped chest taunting me. He comes to me and rubs my arms as he says, “That was amazing.” He pulls me to his chest, and his musky scent tempts me, so I take a breath. He whispers, “You’re so beautiful.” I want to like this. He obviously did, and I feel awful that I don’t.

  I can’t get out fast enough. A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s still early, but I say, “I think I’m ready to go home now. With the wine and not sleeping well lately, I could use a good night’s rest.”

  “Okay. Did you brush your teeth? Want some gum or something, so Mrs. Matheson doesn’t know you had wine?”

  You know what, buddy? I think that’s the least of my problems right now. “Gum would be good, thanks.”

  9

  Not only is skiing my passion, it’s also my therapy. A couple of days after our fiasco, it’s Blaine Tuesday. But it’s school vacation week, and Blaine’s working at kids’ ski school to help instead of taking his day off. It’s just as well, because I’m not sure how to address what happened. I need a ski day all to myself.

  The cold of the metal chairlift bites the skin of my cheek as I lean against it. I chose to ride solo, so I can get lost in my thoughts. I think about Jason. I tried to tuck him away in my heart when I moved here, but when I was trying to get back in the mood with Blaine, Jason was who I thought of. But it wasn’t just the other night. Sometimes Blaine will call me Case, and Jason’s face appears. I shift in the chair and lean over the restraining bar to gaze at the snow down below. When Blaine tucks a curl behind my ear, I remember how Jason used to do the same.

  I sigh as I lean back to pull out my sandwich. Even unwrapping my peanut butter and jelly makes me remember the hundreds of times I ate lunch on the chair with Jason. I take a bite, but the bread tastes like cardboard when I chew, so I wrap my lunch up again to put it back in my pocket.

  I glance ar
ound at the mountain and recall all the times I’ve skied a trail and thought about how much Jason would have liked it. I’m pulled from my thoughts when my phone vibrates with a text. It’s from Gretchen. “One word: porn.” Oh great, another Gretchen solution. Today I can laugh. I picture myself renting a porn DVD and playing it for Blaine while he sits motionless, watching. That’s so not going to happen.

  I text back. “Hey, do you see Jason much these days? I’m just wondering what he’s been up to.”

  “I text porn and you think Jason?”

  “No. I’m trying to unsee that and change the subject.” I scrape snow off the top of one ski with the other.

  “Rumor has it he’s in Colorado. Ski vacation. I’m not sure where he went. Did you tell him where you are?”

  A large gust of wind blows the chair and makes it sway. “No, you’re the only one who knows. Did you tell him?”

  “Maybe?”

  Jason? Here? My chest hurts as if all air was sucked out of my lungs. Is this a mini anxiety attack? “It’s ok. I never told you to keep it secret.”

  “Then, yes. I did tell him you were living somewhere in Breckenridge. I don’t know if he would go there. It’s kind of a big place to hope to find you.”

  “True. He has my number and could text if he wanted to see me.” Would he?

  “Right. He’s probably at Vail or A-Basin.”

  Or maybe not. When I get off the chair, my hands are cold. I need to go into the lodge to warm up and fill my water. As I push the door open, the warmth wraps around me, and I notice Matt is behind the ski-school desk.

  He glances up and calls out, “Hey, Casey, I was just talking about you. I skied with a guy today from Killington. He said he knows you.”