Fiery Ember

by Celia Kyle

  Fiery Ember

  By Celia Kyle

  Copyright © 2008, Celia Kyle

  Published July 2008

  by

  Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  Edgewater, Florida

  All rights reserved

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Ember paced. To and fro, fro and to, and fro and fro and to and… Wait. She lost her train of thought. What was she doing again? Oh, right, pacing.

  She paused at the far end of the expansive conference room and stared out the window, watching the people below. Everyone walked, or ran, at break-neck speed. Hustling and bustling to their destinations. She shook her head, not understanding how so many people could be in such a hurry.

  Metal grated against metal as the doorknob turned.

  She cringed, knowing someone was coming through the door to interrupt her panic attack—just when she’d forgotten why she’d begun panicking and pacing in the first place. Of course it would be Marnie intruding. She wouldn’t leave her alone, not even for a few moments. True friends never did, Marnie always said.

  Ember turned, her bare feet sliding easily on the plush carpet, her shoes forgotten underneath the conference table. She nibbled her lower lip, waiting for her best friend to speak.

  When the silence drew out past a few seconds, she couldn’t take it anymore. “Well? Tell me they showed up, Marnie. Please?”

  Marnie shook her head. “No, sorry hon, they haven’t. I tried calling your stepmother, but Claudette isn’t answering her phone. Constance isn’t either, and last I heard, Clementine lost hers yesterday.”

  “Perfect,” Ember mumbled as she turned her back to Marnie. She leaned her head against the window and the cool glass helped calm her racing heart.

  What the heck was she to do now? None of the heads of Ellason Advertising had bothered to show up to the meeting with the President of the company whose account would single-handedly save their sorry-ass excuse for an ad agency.

  Bother, bollocks and balls, as her father would say. Ember had grown up with her father’s edicts repeated daily, and still, years upon years after his death, she followed them to the letter whenever possible. Educated individuals don’t lower themselves by using common language, Fireball.

  The closest her father ever came to cursing was the word “balls.” Same with his friends and associates whenever they were around him. He censured everyone, letting them know that his little Fireball wouldn’t be spouting words like “damn” and “hell.” “Balls” was bad enough, thank you.

  Thoughts of her father and what he must think as he watched her from his perch above intruded, and the telltale sting of tears formed in her eyes. Ember squeezed them tight as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

  Not today. I don’t have time to fall apart today.

  “Ember?”

  Marnie, right. “I’ll…” she swallowed hard as she thought up one idea after another, discarding them all. She couldn’t lose this account. She’d sat in on so many meetings with Jacob, Clementine, and their team that she knew the presentation like the back of her hand. She could do this. She would do this.

  “Show them into the conference room in fifteen minutes, Marnie. Also, fetch Jacob for me. I’ll have to fill him in on my plans.”

  Ember crouched down to pick up her shoes and then placed them on the floor in front of her before stepping into them. She smoothed her palms over her skirt to make sure there were no wrinkles present.

  “What are you going to do, Em?”

  Ember stared at Marnie, just long enough to see the blood drain from her friend’s face. “I’m going to give the presentation myself. I know just as much about this campaign as Clementine. Besides, if it were so darned important to her, she’d be here and not cavorting with some random man.” Ember nodded, resolved that her decision was the right one.

  “But what… what are we going to tell Mr. Ashe? He’s expecting—”

  “Let him come to his own conclusions. Don’t introduce me by name; just show him in. I’ll handle the rest. Now hurry, send Jacob in with everything so I can go over the presentation one more time.” Ember shooed her friend away and turned back to the window.

  What the hell am I doing? A secretary can’t give this presentation. I’m nothing more than a highly paid barista and pencil pusher. No wonder Daddy left the company to Claudette and not me. He must have known even then…

  * * * *

  “As you can see Mr. Ashe, the proposal we’ve outlined introduces your company to the buyers of today. We’ve included print, radio, and television venues in our plan. It is sure to bring your company to the forefront of every 18 to 25-year-old’s mind. Feel free to take the presentation materials home to review and we can schedule—”

  “Not needed.”

  He didn’t even give her a chance to finish.

  Ember turned her attention to Mr. Ashe and focused on his chin. She’d blundered and made eye contact when he’d introduced himself. She would not make that mistake again. Jacob had to intervene on her behalf and showed Mr. Ashe to his seat while she stared at him, mouth gaping wide.

  Blue. His eyes were blue like an early morning sky as the sun begins to rise. She was mesmerized. She didn’t say a word, didn’t move a muscle. All she could do was stare at the darned man with her mouth hanging open. Of course, it wasn’t just his eyes that attracted her. Oh no.

  Paul Ashe’s face appeared to have been chiseled from granite by Michelangelo himself. His patrician features with the hard angles of his cheeks and how they connected with the firm lines of his jaw, all flowing to his strong chin, reminded her of an ancient Roman warrior.

  Then, he smiled. Geez-o-pete, she’d never seen a smile light up a room. Sure, she’d read about plenty of fantasy men. Their glaring white teeth, perfect bodies and model-like ability to always look handsome, even after riding through a downpour in the middle of Scotland’s highlands, but she’d never witnessed anything like that. Until now.

  Mr. Ashe had shaken her hand. She remembered that now as she stared at the tiny scar on his chin and wondered where he’d gotten it. Of course, her thoughts didn’t stay on his chin for long, not when she had his broad shoulders and sculpted chest to think about. Not long after he’d taken his seat, he removed his jacket and leaned back in the executive chair while she began her spiel. His shirt was far too tight for her comfort and showed off every muscle on his chest and abdomen. Every, single, one.

  Lately, she hadn’t spared a thought for men, any man, but now her neglected libido was rearing its ugly, horny, come-fuck-me head. Thoughts of rolling around in a sweaty tangle of limbs with Paul Ashe occupied her mind while she tried to focus on convincing him to take the materials home, to give Ellason Advertising a chance.

  What good was Ember Ellason to the world if she couldn’t land one single account? Heck, why was she even attending college at night, trying to get her degree in marketing if she couldn’t convince the man to take home one binder of information?

  She dropped her shoulders, accepting defeat. “I understand, Mr. Ashe—”

  “No, apparently you don’t.” His tone was clipped, sharp and angry, as Claudette often sounded. Ember couldn’t hide her instinctive twitch when he stood. She had to remind herself that Jacob sat only feet away. Mr. Ashe wouldn’t strike her for whateve
r mistake she’d made with someone else present. At least, Claudette never had. “Ms. Eagerton, I won’t be taking the materials home because I’ve made a decision.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but she wasn’t sure what she was going to say. On one hand, she wanted to correct his assumption that she was Clementine and on the other, she wanted to beg him to reconsider their firm. She closed her mouth and didn’t do either.

  “I’d like Ellason Advertising to represent my company. The ad campaign you’ve outlined is perfect.”

  He stuck his hand out and she slid her fingers over his palm before wrapping them around his hand. Goosebumps rose along her arm and she fought the shiver racing down her spine. Heat and an immediate attraction assaulted her. With a gasp, her attention turned to his face. She had to see his reaction. Was he as affected by the touch?

  Without a doubt, he was. His eyes widened, his pale blue irises deepened to almost black. Yeah, he felt the tremor course through her hand and he answered with a twitch of his own. Her breath caught as they continued to stare at one another. She knew she’d been avoiding his eyes for a reason. His grip tightened and he flashed that darned perfect smile again, making her powerless to look away. Her knees felt weak and she couldn’t resist the soft tug on her hand, which brought them closer together.

  His smile, still wide and dazzling, never faltered as he whispered two words which nearly sent her into a dead faint. “You’re perfect.”

  She swallowed hard past the lump forming in her throat. Perfect? Not hardly. Chubby, fat, even obese by some people’s definition, but perfect definitely did not describe her. True, she always tried hard to look her best. Today happened to be one of her “pretty” days where her wayward auburn curls behaved and the outfit she wore hugged in the right places and flowed in all the curvier areas.

  When the heat of her blush hit her cheeks, Ember tugged her hand free of his and turned her attention to straightening the meeting materials.

  Jacob jumped into the conversation then and saved her from further embarrassment. “Yes, we think so as well, Mr. Ashe. Um, Em, is by far the woman for the job. We at Ellason Advertising are thrilled to handle your company’s business and look forward to implementing our plan.”

  The two men continued to talk while she got her feelings under control. Her hands shook as she straightened the sample materials. Lord, she’d never been looked at like that. Men gave her a cursory glance and nod when she asked them what they’d like to drink, coffee or water, as they waited for Claudette or one of her two daughters. But her? Ember? Never.

  Ember was invisible to everyone. Being invisible is how she’d survived in the Ellason-Eagerton family. Being noticed meant… well, it just wasn’t good. Not good at all.

  Her sweat dampened fingers stuck to the ad copy and she wiped her palms on her skirt, hands shaking with every movement. Her nerves that she’d kept at bay from the moment she found out she’d be giving the presentation were now making themselves known. She needed a drink. A long, tall, hard drink of Mr. Paul Ashe… No! She needed a quick shot of something strong and she’d be fine. She most definitely did not need anything beyond a signature from Paul Ashe. Nope. No sweet, tender kisses or long nights of sweaty sex needed. No sir. Nope. Not at all.

  Of course, all thoughts of why she should have wild sex with Mr. Ashe vanished when she regained her composure and turned back to the two men. Yeah, he was covered in muscles from head to toe beneath his expensive suit, but it was his eyes and his smile that reeled her in. She really needed to remember to stare at his chin.

  Chapter Two

  Ember sat back against the cool plastic surface of her regular booth at Fire & Smoke and allowed her muscles to relax. As each second passed, the tension in her shoulders and back eased.

  After embarrassing herself further in front of Mr. Paul Ashe, Ember had retreated to her small cubicle outside of Claudette and her daughters’ offices, content with shuffling paper until it was time to leave at five. Marnie must have sensed her remaining nervous tension because even she stayed away. Heck, everyone did. Mr. Ashe and Jacob remained in the conference room for at least another half hour after her hasty retreat.

  Not that Ember noticed or anything, because she didn’t. She didn’t care. Nope, she didn’t care one bit. And the sight of his perfectly sculpted ass definitely hadn’t affected her as he’d left the office. Suffice it to say, Mr. Paul Ashe looked good coming and going. She silently prayed that Jacob had taken care of providing him with a contract.

  The clink of a full bottle being placed in front of her brought Ember out of her thoughts—and not a moment too soon. Thinking about a contract with Mr. Ashe led her to think about what a contract did. It bound. Binding led to thinking of being bound by him and all the wicked things he could do to her while she was tied and at his mercy.

  She smiled her thanks to the waitress, Anna, and took a sip of the cold beer that was placed in front of her. With a soft bite, the cool, bubbly liquid slid down her throat to relax her from the inside out. It had either been far too long since she had taken a lover, or Mr. Paul Ashe was just that hot. She closed her eyes, took another sip of beer and admitted that he was just that hot.

  Other than showing Ember yet another man she couldn’t have, the meeting also showed her that it was time to find another job. She’d proven she could handle a project on her own as well as land a client with nary a senior partner in sight.

  After four years of balancing her schoolwork while working days at Ellason Advertising, it was time for Ember to move on to other things. Her father obviously thought Claudette was the woman to run the company, so there was nothing else holding her at her dead-end job where the highlight of her day was making a new pot of coffee. She could be a secretary anywhere. What she wanted to be was something entirely different, but she’d never realize her dreams at Ellason Advertising.

  More tension eased as she reached a decision. Tomorrow, bright and early, she’d type up her letter of resignation and slap it on the old bitc—broad’s desk. No time like the present to begin her new life.

  The tight chignon she’d managed to wrestle her hair into earlier in the day pulled and tugged at her sensitive scalp.

  Balls.

  This night was about being comfortable and the tight coil was anything but. With a few quick tugs at the bobby pins, her hair tumbled free of the knot and she sank further into the cushioned booth. The dark, secluded corner was Ember’s favorite spot in the whole bar for two reasons: it was dark and secluded. Fire & Smoke was the one place she could come and be herself. With her father’s old friend Ernest running the place, she could be assured of being left alone while she unwound.

  The moment she bowed her head and sent up a prayer to God, thanking him for a quiet corner of the world where she could relax, but not be alone, someone slid into the booth across from her. Aged plastic groaned and moaned.

  Years of living with Claudette had taught Ember to remain still and not show any outward reaction. She could shake on the inside all she wanted, but to her tormentor, she needed to show strength and not fear.

  Ember tilted the condensation-slick bottle back and took a hearty swig, filling her mouth with the slowly warming brew before she lifted her head from the back of the booth and opened her eyes. Of course, she then spit the entire mouthful of beer all over Mr. Paul Ashe.

  “Paul.” His name, as well as the beer, left her mouth at the same time, though she hadn’t originally planned on spitting all over the person who had joined her. It just sort of happened that way.

  Like everything else in Ember’s life.

  Eyes wide and mouth gaping open, Paul let out a low gasp and froze. She couldn’t do anything other than stare in shock as her heart stopped for a few seconds before picking up a racing pace. Lord, she’d just spit a mouthful of liquid on the object of her lust.

  One-way ticket to hell please?

  This time around, she kept her eyes trained on his chin while she snatched a handful of napkins from the
table and rushed to his side. She dabbed at the areas covered in spittle and beer and cringed with each touch. No way would he sign the contract now. None whatsoever.

  She risked a glance at his face, making sure to keep her eyes away from his. She couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. Of course, he hadn’t said anything yet and if she were dealing with Claudette, she would recognize this as the quiet before the storm. But he wasn’t her evil-tempered stepmother and it almost looked as if he was smiling. His lips formed something half way between a frown and a grin. A grown maybe? Or a frin?

  Ember shook her head and focused on the task of wiping Paul clean of her drink. As her hands approached the lower half of his shirt, she let her gaze wander to his lap and froze for a moment.

  Well, fuck me.

  Her father was surely frowning down on her for that thought, but she didn’t spend too much time worrying about her father’s opinion and moved on to other… larger things.

  Paul Ashe was packing. No, not a gun, but a thing so much bigger than she could have ever imagined. It seemed to point upward as if reaching for her, and she wanted to cup and stroke it… He stopped her. A large, tan hand encircled her wrist and forced her to freeze in mid-motion as she reached for his thing. It seemed with her almost bold move, she’d shocked him into finding his voice.

  “I’ve got it from here, but thanks anyway.” His voice sounded deeper, rough and strained as he spoke, his lips inches from her ear. She felt the blush creeping up her cheeks and was thankful for the darkness that shrouded her corner of the bar. With a nod, she eased her wrist from his grip and slid back into the booth across from him.

  “I’m so sorry, Paul. You… you surprised me,” she chuckled, more than a little self-conscious.

  The shadows left most of his face in darkness and she breathed a sigh of relief. If she couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see her. More importantly, those darned blue eyes couldn’t capture her and turn her into a walking, not-talking idiot.