Fan The Flames (Man Of The Month Book 3)

by Michele Dunaway

  “Tolerance limit exceeded,” Scarlett mumbled, pork chops forgotten. She lifted her daughter into her arms. “Shh. I miss San Diego too, but this is our home now.”

  “I liked our old house.” Colleen sniffed. “I didn’t get lost.”

  Me too, Scarlett thought. Although, she’d been adrift since Todd’s death. Maybe even before. “You won’t get lost here. And you always wanted to live in a castle. And we worked so hard on your new room. It’s so pretty.”

  Her mother had made herself scarce. She’d finished the pork chops and put them under the broiler. Now she opened the green beans. The mashed potatoes would microwave. Scarlett, grateful her mom had let her handle this, continued to hold Colleen, although she was getting heavy. “I want my old room,” Colleen said, but the tears were lessening somewhat.

  Footsteps sounded on the back stairs and the last one squeaked as Brad and her father entered the room. “What seems to be the problem?” her dad asked.

  “I want my old room,” Colleen repeated.

  Brad frowned. “She’s just overwhelmed and tired,” Scarlett inserted hastily. “Please don’t think she’s ungrateful. Too much change in too short of a time. She lost it when she and I realized there’s no place to hang her picture.”

  Brad’s forehead smoothed. He stepped forward. Picked up the picture from the island. “This picture?”

  Colleen nodded. “I drew it of my new house.”

  “We usually hang her art on the refrigerator,” Scarlett told him. “We’ll have to work out a new place.”

  “How about for now we put it right here?” Brad found the empty space between a door frame and a window, the same one where Scarlett had indicated a bulletin board could go. He held the picture up. “Would this spot work?”

  “Really, you don’t need to…” Scarlett said, but Brad pulled open a drawer, removed a thumbtack, put the picture in place and jabbed the tack through.

  “There. Is that better?” he asked Colleen.

  Colleen’s green eyes widened and she nodded. The last of her sobs ceased. The round silver thumbtack and a four-year-old’s crayon artwork seemed an anomaly in the perfect designer kitchen. Scarlett winced. “There’s a hole…”

  Brad shrugged. “Which spackles and is so tiny anyway. I’ll build a small bulletin board for this space. I’ll run it from almost the top of the door frame down to about here.” He pointed to two feet from the floor. “That way she can reach it too.”

  “Yay,” Colleen said, already happy again.

  “What a great idea,” Scarlett’s mom added. The look she shot Scarlett warned her not to protest.

  “See, I never would have thought of that, but it’s a perfect addition to this space,” Brad continued. “You really helped me, Colleen.”

  “Yay,” she said, simply enthralled by Brad. “That’s a picture of our new house.”

  “It’s a beautiful picture. I’m working tomorrow, but I can pick up the materials and build it Friday. Is that okay?” Colleen nodded. She’d agree to anything; he’d charmed her so thoroughly. “Good, because after that, I’m a bit busy. I’ve got this charity stuff I have to do.”

  “What stuff?” Scarlett asked, curious.

  “Stuff for the calendar.”

  She frowned. She hated feeling stupid. “What calendar?”

  His eyebrow arched. “You mean you haven’t seen it? Heard about it?”

  She felt even more clueless. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

  “He’s talking about the Sexy Public Servants of St. Louis calendar,” her mom said. “It’s pretty hot.”

  “Bernadette.” Scarlett heard the resigned sigh in her father’s voice, as if he’d been saying her name for years.

  “You have to be the only one in the city who hasn’t seen or heard about it,” Brad added, clearly awed.

  Scarlett knew exactly the frustration Colleen had experience earlier. “I have no idea what either of you is talking about. I haven’t been here. San Diego, remember?”

  “He’s Mr. July,” her mom called.

  Scarlett snapped her head around. Her jaw dropped. “July? You’re in the calendar? How could you not have told me once in all the time we were on the phone?”

  “Because it’s awful. The STLFD picked me and I’m wearing nothing but swim trunks and a smile and standing in front of the river and Eads Bridge. It’s embarrassing.”

  The thought of seeing him in nothing but swim trunks sent her libido into a tailspin. She failed to keep the incredulity out of her voice. “You posed in front of the bridge? For a calendar?”

  He exhaled a fast breath. “No. Yes. I was in a studio. They Photoshopped the background. Still, I look ridiculous.”

  “He looks hot,” her mother mouthed behind Brad. She fanned her face.

  “Mr. July, huh,” Scarlett said. “I’m going to have to find it. Google will help.”

  “Don’t you dare,” he warned.

  “Oh, but I must,” she teased, because like Colleen, her earlier frustration had been abated. “Makes me wonder what else you haven’t told me. Do you moonlight at Chippendales?”

  “The simple fact is I didn’t have much choice. I’m already way over it, and I’ve had to attend all these charity-related events ever since. Like the upcoming Mayor’s Ball two weekends from now, on Friday the thirteenth. Black tie at the City Hall rotunda. Then there was the calendar ball before that, and the thing at New Year’s I managed to get out of because I was working. And thankfully I’m working Valentine’s Day, or I’d be stuck on the Mardi Gras float tossing out beads like some of the other guys are.” He shuddered and a piece of dark hair swooped down. He brushed it back.

  “Sounds terrible,” Scarlett chided, still imagining him wearing only swim trunks. “You and your poor celebrity.”

  Brad frowned. Shoved his hands into his jean pockets. “I never signed up to be a celebrity. The only thing I want to do is my job and now women come up to me.”

  “Women have always come up to you. You were a girl magnet.”

  “Not like this. They’re aggressive. Suggestive. It’s like I need a bodyguard to fend them off.”

  “Todd told me you liked the attention.”

  “Maybe ten years ago when I was twenty,” Brad shot back. “We all grow up sometime.”

  “Perhaps you should take Scarlett with you next Friday?” her mother suggested, ever the peacekeeper. The dinner plates gave an extra clatter as she took them from a cabinet. “She could fend them off. It would also give you some time away from the house to discuss things. James and I will babysit. Would you like that, Colleen? If Granny babysat?”

  Colleen had been watching the exchange the entire time, and Scarlett’s stomach dropped. Only back in St. Louis one day and all her good parenting went out the window. “Granny babysit,” Colleen confirmed and she clambered down out of her mom’s arms, all better now that the picture was on the wall. “Whatcha doing?” she asked her grandmother.

  “I’m about to get the mashed potatoes and microwave them. Want to help?”

  “Yes,” Colleen said.

  “While we work, you two can plan your date.”

  “It’s not a date,” Scarlett said. She met Brad’s intense gaze and swallowed. Hard.

  His full attention was focused on her and the prickle of awareness traveled her spine. “Really, you don’t need to do…” Brad began.

  “I think it’s a good idea,” her father chimed in, cutting off Brad’s protest. “Scarlett needs to get out of the house. You still have some gowns from the military balls. I saw them upstairs. It will do you good to get out on the town. Have some fun.”

  “I have fun,” Scarlett protested.

  “When?” Her mother accompanied that with an arch of an eyebrow. “Listen to your father. Brad, take Scarlett. She could help you out and she needs to be social. It’ll give you a chance to reconnect face-to-face. You haven’t seen each other in what? Two years?”

  Brad could tell when he was trapped.
Yet, this wasn’t all bad. A good opportunity, in fact. A step in the right direction for honoring Todd’s last wishes. “I’d like it if you’d accompany me,” he said. “Would you join me at the Mayor’s Ball?”

  Scarlett also knew when she was beaten. Besides, she owed Brad something for letting her live here. He’d come up with a plan when she’d been looking at having to move back in with her parents. Surely she could help him out with this one thing.

  “I’ll treat you to a mani-pedi and a haircut,” her mother threw out.

  “Well, how can I refuse then?” Scarlett said. She shot Brad a slight smile, and was again disconcerted by the stark intensity she saw in his brown eyes. She found herself once again remembering their brief kiss and suddenly had the urge to scratch beneath the surface and see what made him tick, especially now that there was nothing to stop her. She lived in his house. They had to coexist. They’d reconnected on the phone. But for the tiniest second, she hesitated. Then she threw open Pandora’s box and said, “I’d be honored to join you.”

  His intensity never wavered—it was as if he could see through her, almost as if seeing something she couldn’t. “Great,” Brad replied. “Then we have a date.”

  A date. Now that she’d committed, those two words sent both a jolt of panic and a flutter of excitement through Scarlett. She’d started dating Todd in October of her freshman year. She’d missed the whole dating scene. Then again, date was a word loosely used. Brad needed someone to accompany him, that was all. A buffer to ward off the overzealous. The man hadn’t had a long-term relationship since he’d left for the Navy. Not that she kept track of his love life. While she’d known Brad since high school and hung out with him and Todd, he’d always been aloof. Distant. During their recent conversations, she still sensed he held something back.

  Her mother pulled the pork chops out from the broiler, and the microwave dinged that the potatoes were reheated. The scene held an undercurrent of promise, of simple pleasures brought by spending time with good friends and family. She found the glasses and began to pour everyone water. One great thing about moving home—St. Louis had some of the best-tasting tap water anywhere in the country. Perhaps the future wouldn’t be so bad, after all, if she gave it half a chance.

  * * *

  As they ate broiled pork chops, microwaved mashed potatoes and canned green beans, Brad couldn’t remember a better meal. Zoning meant his apartment kitchen was a sink, mini-fridge and a microwave. His bathroom was simply a toilet crammed into a tiny closet beneath the eaves. In fact, his above-the-garage abode was simply a one-room studio, the only one like it on this block.

  She’d agreed to accompany him to the dance. The thought thrilled. They’d attended dances together before, but she’d been with Todd and he’d had a date, usually some blonde or brunette. He never dated redheads. Ever.

  There was only one redhead who’d ever attracted his interest and Scarlett had been off-limits. In one part of his mind, she still was off-limits. She’d been Todd’s wife. The other part wanted nothing more than to pursue her and make her his.

  He had Todd’s instructions, one of which read, You know Scarlett. She’ll wallow. Make sure you get her out of the house. Make sure she laughs and has fun.

  He now had the perfect opportunity to do just that.

  Her dad said something, and everyone seated around the dining room table laughed. Brad joined in, and then caught Scarlett’s gaze. She smiled at him, and it was like a punch to his gut. She was his dream woman. Always had been.

  Think of her as a mission, Brad told himself as her green eyes crinkled and laugh lines formed around lips he’d long fantasized about kissing again, this time something more than a stolen moment beneath the stairs, swiped before his best friend made his move, a move Brad had known he planned to make. He’d known it was selfish, but he couldn’t stop himself. In a mission, feelings had no place. You needed to follow reason. Intuition. In the SEALs, letting morality and emotions factor into an equation could lead to death and often had. SEALs could look back at missions where brethren had died because they’d done something as simple as releasing a child, which in turn had brought down upon them the full force of hell. Brad hadn’t been in any of those situations, but Todd had. Knew his best friend had purged his conscience with lots of alcohol.

  Yet, when it had come right down to it, despite all of Brad’s best persuasive abilities, Todd had reenlisted. Signed back up with only minor hesitation when considering the wife and child he was leaving behind for a major part of the year. In hindsight, Brad realized it was almost as if Todd was afraid of married life, afraid of how to be father and husband in the normal, everyday world where bullets flying overhead weren’t a common occurrence.

  Perhaps Todd hadn’t wanted to bring home any baggage, or admit to some of the things he’d done. As it was, he’d been deployed approximately eight months at a time, so by the time he’d gotten somewhat settled into domesticity, it had been time to hit the road and head back overseas.

  Maybe some men never outgrew the wanderlust. What was that about the grass being greener on the other side of the proverbial fence? Brad had wanted what Todd had—a wife and kid. A stable, loving home. Someone back in the States that worried and cared—someone besides his mom. Yet despite his best efforts to forget Scarlett, Brad couldn’t, and subsequently all other women paled in comparison. Todd had had the commitment that Brad sought, but his friend had run from it, for his mistresses—the sea and his job—captured his interest more than his wife.

  “Want some help with that?” Brad asked after Scarlett’s parents left. He gestured to the dishwasher. A skeptical eyebrow arched. “What? Did Todd never help?” She answered by handing him a plate, which he slid between the bottom rack tines. “I take it dishes weren’t his forte.”

  “Can’t save the world in everything,” Scarlett said, rinsing and handing him another plate.

  “Well, just call me Mr. Domestic. I’m the new kind of superhero. My mother would be proud.”

  “Well, you saved the day tonight. Thanks for pinning that picture up.”

  “Anytime. My mother covered our refrigerator. Sometimes whole layers of things fell off because the magnets couldn’t hold them. I didn’t even think about that when I installed the appliances. See, I told you that your living here would help me out.”

  He loaded more plates. Put the glasses that came his way on the top rack. Occasionally their fingers would touch, and the water droplets that transferred created a pleasurable little zing.

  “You really didn’t have to stay and help,” she told him as she passed over a set of forks.

  “I’m actually having fun. Nice to see someone enjoying the kitchen. I’m glad you’re here.”

  Spoons came his way instead of a reply.

  “So you’re really in agreement with my parents? Now that we’re alone, it’s okay. You can back out. You don’t have to take me to this ball.” She faced him. “Unless you want to.”

  “Yes, I do. Why not? Have you dressed up in a while? I haven’t. I could use a night on the town and it sounds like you can too.”

  “True. My nights are mainly spent watching kid shows and playing with Colleen. Some adult company might make a nice change.”

  “Even if it’s mine?”

  She gave him a shy smile. “You’re a gorgeous man. I’ll be the envy of every woman there, Mr. July.” She snickered at that.

  “Ha-ha. Funny.” She’d called him gorgeous. “You try being exposed to the world.”

  She made a face. “No, thanks. But I will fend them all off for you. Promise.”

  “Good. And I promise we’ll have fun.” Something hovered in the air, something intangible, like hope or promise. She stood far too close—her perky button nose upturned toward his, her tempting lips reachable in one quick swoop. Far too much too soon. He reached forward and brushed a bubble from her cheek. Her mouth parted. “Soap,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  She wouldn’t thank him if she
knew how much he wanted to kiss her. He checked his desire. “Hey, just so you know, I only have a half bath over there. Normally I’ve been using the hall bath upstairs and I keep my clothes in the spare bedroom, but I can use the firehouse from here out.”

  Those fire-colored strands framed her face as she shook her head and his fingers itched to touch. Was it as soft and silky as it looked? “No, it’s fine. Come get a shower. No need to disrupt your routine. We’re your guests.”

  Even warm reassurance could make him go mad with want. “You aren’t guests,” he said, for he could never see her that way. “I want you to consider this your home. That’s why I’m telling you it’ll be around six thirty a.m. You can say no. I won’t be put out.”

  Not for her. For her he’d walk miles, but the flickering in her eyes revealed she wasn’t ready to believe him. And why should she? He’d kept her at a distance simply to protect his own sanity. “Okay. I’ll probably sleep right through your shower time and if I don’t, eventually I’ll get used to it and I will. I want to coexist peacefully.”

  “I also do laundry here. And my mail will come through the slot.”

  “Now you’re really pushing it,” she said, grinning to indicate she was joking. She touched his arm, ran her fingers for a moment over the woven fabric. Then she removed her hand quickly, as if she’d received a static shock like he had. “Seriously, we’ll work it out. It’s a process. I doubt we’ll figure out all the ins and outs of this relationship in one conversation. God knows Todd and I couldn’t.”

  Todd, who would always be a mutual loss. “He loved you very much.”

  “I know. He was a good man. He cared for you as well.” Silence fell, both lost for a moment to his and her respective thoughts. Her chin jutted forward. “Let’s not dwell on the past. Not tonight. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time for that later.”

  “Okay.” He wanted to make her happy. He’d never had that particular urge toward a woman before, unless it was regarding sex. But with Scarlett, all aspects of her happiness came first. He wanted to see her have fun. Smile. Enjoy life again, and not just because he’d made a promise.