In The Heat 0f The Night (The O'Roarkes Duet Book 2)

by Katherine Garbera

  “Why?”

  “He thought those kinds of shows were more popular. He was always chasing trends.”

  “Did you chase trends too?” he asked.

  “I didn’t think so, at the time. But now that I think about it, I did follow in my boss’s footsteps, so inadvertently, I guess I did. That’s part of why I came back, I think. I’d sort of lost myself out there.”

  He raised both eyebrows at her, obviously surprised at what she’d shared. She leaned back and waited for the waitress to return. She’d already decided on the Mediterranean chicken salad. The menu was simple and had the typical diner fare, along with some lighter options.

  “So you’ll cook for me?”

  “In exchange for something,” she said, still keeping it light. At least until the shadows were gone from his eyes.

  “Ah, right. I get it now. You want me to give you the Clapham place,” he said, closing his menu and signaling the waitress.

  “Ready?” the waitress asked as she came over to their booth.

  “Fried chicken plate,” Rory said with a smile.

  Meg ordered, then waited for the waitress to move away before she put her arms on the table and leaned forward. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m talking about. And I think after you see the report I’ve prepared, you’ll realize that there are a lot of better options available.”

  She reached for her large Vera Bradley bag and pulled out a file folder. She’d taken her time this afternoon, making sure she had all of her facts together.

  She’d always loved researching, but she liked winning more. At some point, this had become a competition. And she felt like every encounter between them so far had ended in a draw or with her on the losing side. But this time, she was determined to walk away the winner.

  “First of all, I’m not sure you have seen this,” she said, handing him the home inspection she’d had done on the Clapham place. It was in sad shape, perfect for her makeover plans, but, as a home for a single man, it left a lot to be desired. “It’s hard to say where to start. The wiring and plumbing aren’t up to code and almost everything is in desperate need of repair.”

  He pulled the home inspection over to take a closer look. She noticed that he didn’t just flip through the pages, but instead, read them all carefully. She sipped her tea and watched him. Their first meeting had reinforced his overt masculinity, but now it was muted as he studied the report, and she realized that there was a lot of intelligence hiding beneath that hunky outer persona.

  She traced the line of condensation on the outside of her iced-tea glass while she waited for him to finish. She hoped the report would be enough to put him off the Clapham place. Although, for her, the report had only whetted her appetite and made her more excited to sign the final bill of sale.

  She’d already hinted to her blog readers that she’d have a big new project kicking off soon. And her producer friend from HGTV was already asking about seeing a short video segment.

  “This is interesting reading,” he said, turning over the last page then handing the papers back to her. “I get it, Red. The place is a hazard and it’s going to take a lot of time and money to bring up to code.”

  “It is. I’m sure you didn’t realize that when you made your offer,” she said sweetly. She could practically smell victory. It was waiting for her, and all she had to do was give him another property. One that wouldn’t need anywhere near as much work. “I’ve had my realtor do a property search of similar homes for sale in the area.”

  “Similar?”

  “Based on square footage, property acreage and location,” she said. “Given what I’ve observed, you seem like a guy who wants some privacy. Yet, since you’re a firefighter, I suspect you don’t want to be too far from town.”

  She pulled the MLS listings that her realtor had sent her and pushed them across the table to him. “I have narrowed it down to these three properties.”

  He spread the papers out on the table and looked them over. She pointed to the one on the left. “This one is the nicest. When I was there, I got a sense that it was the right choice for you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” she said. “It even has a big barn.”

  She pushed the photos around and pulled out the one of the newly-painted red barn. “Looks nice, doesn’t it?”

  “It does,” he said. “It would make a great home.”

  SHE’D DONE HER homework. He respected her for it, but as an investor, it made him realize he was in the position of power. She was too hungry to get her hands on the property, and she’d told him the “right story” when they’d been out at the Clapham place. So she was offering him whatever she thought he needed to hear to let her buy it unchallenged.

  “Seems perfect for a woman,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, her genial smile fading.

  “Just that it wouldn’t take that much work. You could upcycle things more easily,” he said.

  “I like working with my hands,” she said. “Taking on a big project like this has been an ambition of mine for a while.”

  “Interesting.”

  He looked down at the papers she’d compiled. After today’s events, Meg couldn’t know how tempted he was to just outbid her and take over that old place. Get his brother up here so they could both walk away from the firehouse and work on fixing the new place up.

  But he’d never been a coward and didn’t think it was a good idea to start being one now. He knew that he’d done a good job today. But he’d hoped that proving himself to the team would ease the knot of tension inside of him. It hadn’t. He was still waiting for a fire. Something big that would really test him and give him the proof he needed that he was back. Back to being himself. That he was still a firefighting O’Roarke.

  He’d thought he was done with running. How many times could a man reinvent himself? This was the fourth fire station he’d worked out of. All of them had been in Florida . . . but far away from his old man.

  Still, his true identity hadn’t become any clearer. He was still dealing with the aftermath of that last fire, and the doubt it brought with it. Was he meant to be a firefighter? He still wasn’t sure. He definitely hadn’t liked being an investor, though he’d never had any doubts he was good at it. He just hadn’t liked it.

  Meg called his attention to one of the properties she’d found on the Hillsborough River. That appealed to him. He was used to having water nearby, and there was something appealing about being able to walk out of his house and go fishing whenever he felt like it.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. If he gave in and let her have the Clapham place—hell, was he going to do that? It went against the grain.

  “I appreciate where you are coming from, but I plan to tear the house down and build a nice big new one there. The Clapham place works for me because of its condition,” he said.

  “Of course it does,” she muttered, glancing down at her phone which she’d set on the table between them as a text message flashed up.

  He had to laugh when he noticed he was her background photo. Just like that, he started to let go of the tension that had been riding him since he’d gotten off shift. She was fun and complicated and such a welcome distraction from his self-recriminations. He knew that he wasn’t going to walk away from the property or Twin Palms. At least not until he’d gotten everything he wanted. Including Ms. Meg Starling.

  “What?” she asked, looking over at him, her expression slightly annoyed.

  “I’m on your phone,” he said, pointing.

  She blushed, the pinkish color slowly moving up her neck. She licked her lips. “Only to keep me focused on thinking of you as the enemy,” she said. “Excuse me. I have to go in the back and talk to my sister.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s being a pai
n. You said you have siblings, right?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. In fact, he owed his sister a call. She’d been leaving voicemails on his cell for days. Unfortunately, Andi had a way of seeing him all too clearly and right now, he was still in self-deception mode. He wished he wasn’t, but the truth was, he just wasn’t ready to be that honest about what this move was really about.

  He watched Meg leave, realizing it was a view he was getting very familiar with. She tended to back away just when things were getting very interesting between them. The pattern was as clear to him as a controlled burn. He knew how to identify it, but controlling her wasn’t something he had a clue how to do.

  Did he really want to? He hadn’t even figured out how long he was staying in Twin Palms. But the daughter of the retired police chief and head librarian had deep roots here. The kind that he knew better than to disturb. He noticed she’d left her notebook on the table and he couldn’t resist flipping it open and scanning the top document upside down.

  It was a blog about house renovation. He memorized the address to check it out later. He had a feeling he might learn a little more about what made her tick.

  It confirmed what he already knew. She had big plans for the Clapham place. In fact, it seemed she planned to use it a launching board to something bigger and better.

  “Sorry about that,” Meg said as she slid back onto the bench across from him.

  “No problem. I think you were going to tell me why you left Twin Palms.”

  “I was? I don’t remember mentioning that.”

  “Indulge me. Maybe I’ll give you what you want,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” he said, leaning back in the booth.

  She took a deep breath. “It’s not that complicated. I just always felt like something was waiting for me outside of the city limit signs. Something big.”

  “What do you think that is?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said, straightening her napkin.

  “You do—you just don’t want to say.”

  She nodded, a closed expression on her face. “We all have secrets, Rory. Even you.”

  SHE’D THOUGHT SHE’D figured him out. That’s what she got for thinking, as her dad would say.

  She was surprised Rory was pushing her, but she sort of got it. She wanted to hear him talk about his problems so she didn’t have to think about hers. Maybe he felt the same.

  “Let’s change the subject,” she said. “You said you were thinking of tearing the house down. There is a case to be made for preserving the original structure. It’s a part of Florida history, one of the original homesteads when the state was trying to encourage people to move here and take up farming or ranching.”

  He stretched his arms along the back of the booth, bringing his T-shirt tight across his chest. She stared for a minute, remembering the way he’d looked playing volleyball without a shirt. Hot, strong, too damned male.

  How could she ignore with that?

  She couldn’t. She couldn’t even keep her own mind under control.

  “Why is that so important?”

  “You’re kidding, aren’t you? It’s how we make this state more than beaches and theme parks. Florida was a hard-fought place to live, and we are still trying to carve out spaces to live from the swamps and the marshlands.”

  He smiled at her. A cocky half-grin that she didn’t want to find attractive but couldn’t deny that she did.

  “I grew up on the beaches.”

  “You know what I mean. Why are you being so impossible?” she asked.

  “Because I can be.”

  She frowned at him. “Why can you be?”

  “I have something you want very badly. And that means that you will do whatever you have to in order to change my mind,” he added.

  “I’m not a pushover, O’Roarke. Don’t let your little bit of power go to your head,” she said carefully. “I don’t mind fighting for what I want.”

  Just then, the waitress came by with their meals. Rory thanked her with more charm than was necessary and then put his napkin on his lap. He looked over at her.

  “Let’s call a truce, okay? Why don’t you tell me about Wrinkles in Time?”

  “What? How do you know about that?” she asked. She had made it a point to keep the blog private . . . even if she had already populated it with posts, just in case she got the Clapham place sooner rather than later.

  “I snooped in your folder while you were gone,” he said. “If you didn’t want me to know, you shouldn’t have left it on the table,” he said with a disarming grin.

  She looked at the folder and back to him. She had other things in there as well. Not just the blog she’d printed out to make her notes on. She thought better on paper and she also edited better on hard copy. She hadn’t put that in the folder for him to see—it had been solely for reference.

  “You said ‘snooped’ so obviously, you know you were wrong. I don’t want anyone to know about my blog, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it. It’s something that I might use if I get the show,” she said.

  “That makes sense. But why haven’t you told your friends and family?”

  “Would you broadcast your plans if the last time you had shared your dreams, they went bust?” she asked. “I’m just being a little more cautious this time. Playing my cards closer to my chest.”

  “I thought the point of a blog was to share your thoughts with everyone,” he said, a look of disgust on his face.

  “Well, not mine. It’s for like-minded people, more informative than introspective,” she said. “Sounds like you’ve got some baggage. Did someone blog about you?”

  “My ex-wife,” he said, taking a bite of his chicken and chewing slowly.

  “She blogged about you?”

  “Her life. But since we were married, that meant me,” he said, still concentrating on his plate.

  That couldn’t have been good for the relationship. “Did that contribute to the breakdown of your marriage?” It suddenly made a certain kind of sense that he was here in Twin Palms. It was the sort of place a person could start over.

  “Nah, we had other problems.”

  “Like—?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. “Unless you want to tell me why your last boyfriend dumped you.”

  Meg thought about it. She knew it was none of her business, but she wanted to know more about Rory. If she had to ’fess up to find out, then fine, she’d do it. “Fair enough. The truth is that I’m difficult and Hollis couldn’t help pointing that out . . . constantly.”

  “Difficult how?”

  “Just difficult,” she said. She hadn’t been willing to put him in front of her own ambition, for one thing. In the end, she’d kept her less than glamorous job at HGTV and he’d moved to Los Angeles. Remembering Hollis’s words hurt, but she didn’t think about him often. She knew she was better off. They hadn’t jived, not really.

  It was a mistake she had promised herself not to make again. And that was part of the reason she was so curious about Rory O’Roarke. He couldn’t be made over. He wasn’t the right man for her. And despite what her hormones might be trying to convince her, she wasn’t in danger of falling for him. She wasn’t going to lie to herself.

  He was a worthy opponent. But she didn’t want him to be. She needed to convince him to back down and let her have the house. Her career depended on it.

  Chapter Seven

  MEG WAS MORE honest than Rory had expected. It was hard talking about failures, especially intimate ones. Hard to admit that the failure might have been on both sides, not just one. But she’d done it with grace and dignity.

  He knew he wouldn’t be able to speak of his ex like that. She’d said she was afraid of his job, and he�
�d put up with two years of her nagging before he quit like she’d asked him to. Although, to be fair, there had been other reasons that had driven him to leave the firehouse.

  It was a little disappointing that, after a few years of marriage, she’d decided it wasn’t the job that she didn’t like—it was him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said at last. “It’s hard when a relationship breaks down.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, cutting up her salad and taking a bite. “I was in control of my life. I wanted to live in New York and work for a network and I did.”

  “How old were you when you left?” he asked.

  “I was just out of college. I got an internship.”

  He didn’t go away to college. After high school, he’d started training to become a firefighter just like the rest of his family. The instructor knew his old man and had expected him to be better than everyone else in the class. And Rory had lived up to their expectations and exceeded his own. He’d set the bar pretty high, wanting to stand as tall as his dad.

  “I was ready to be on my own,” she continued. “Especially in a city where no one knew my past . . .” she said. “I wanted to take the city by storm. Too bad it didn’t turn out that way. What about you?”

  “I stayed in South Dade, training to be a firefighter and living with my oldest brother Ian.”

  She laughed, remembering. “I was so determined to get away from my parents and their rules.”

  “Me, too. And Ian’s house was a great place to live. He’d just gotten married and Helene didn’t mind a little extra cooking. But as soon as I finished training, I applied to firehouses all over the state,” he said. “I’m not like my brother Pat who went out of his way to find a place in Dad’s old firehouse. I wanted to make my own way.”

  “Why?”

  “I just wanted to prove that I was good enough on my own. My dad is a legend. He was still working as a chief back then, and everyone knew I was his son. I was never going to get a chance to really prove myself. My mom passed away years ago, so my dad was really protective of us all.”