L.A. Fire Read online

  I grabbed my mug and quickly checked in with Paul to see if he needed a refill. Then I headed to the office kitchen, still on cloud nine about finding a dynamite screenplay so soon and having my good instincts acknowledged. I opened the kitchen door absentmindedly and ran smack into a solid, muscular chest. I stumbled, and almost fell, but strong hands gripped me tightly and held me up. I looked up, and felt my heart slam against my ribs as I found myself staring into those intense, piercing blue eyes I’d recognize anywhere. Standing this close to Julian, I could feel the heat coming off his body, and smell a deeply masculine, musky scent that made me go weak at the knees. “Careful,” he said in a low, husky tone that sent desire rippling through me. I took a small step back, still unsure of my legs, wondering if they would buckle beneath me. Julian held on to my arms, and I reveled in the feel of his powerful grip.

  I stared at him in awe, too dumbstruck to speak. The man was drop dead gorgeous. Today he had on a custom tailored teak Armani suit, with a light blue shirt and a slightly lighter metallic blue tie. The whole ensemble made his eyes look a deeper blue, and I couldn’t help getting lost in them. Those eyes were so intense, so mesmerizing. And keenly, forcefully intelligent. They spoke of a man who could sum up a person accurately in swift glance, see through any lie, unearth a person’s core truth. I felt naked and trembling beneath that gaze. A big part of me wanted to run and hide, but a stronger part of me reveled in that feeling of exposure. I wanted to be seen by him. I needed it. I craved it.

  But I couldn’t do this. He was my boss’s partner, and he was almost thirty, a good seven years older than I was. He was experienced, cultured, and way beyond my league. I quickly took another step back, and held up my coffee mug in front of me as though it were some kind of pathetic shield. He looked at how I was holding my mug, and the corner of his sensual mouth raised in a crooked smile. “Need a refill?” he asked, amusement creeping into his low, sultry voice.

  “Definitely,” I said, giving him a nervous smile, but gaining my composure. He placed his hand in the small of my back and guided me into the kitchen. It was empty except for the two of us. There was round wooden table in the center of the room, and I had a sudden, involuntary flash of Julian hoisting me roughly into his arms, laying me sprawled and panting on the table, and taking me right then and there with all of his raw, sensual power. My breath caught again at the image, and I nervously tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, then went over to the coffee machine and started fidgeting with the carafe.

  “You’re shaking,” he said, placing his calm, soothing hand over mine. I smiled weakly, and felt my lip start to tremble.

  “I’m okay, thanks,” I said. He studied me for a moment with those keenly intelligent eyes, and I knew I was fooling nobody.

  “Are you all ready for the meeting tomorrow?” he asked, taking the carafe from me, grabbing a mug from a kitchen cabinet, and filling it with coffee.

  “I’m a little nervous,” I said, looking down at my mug and avoiding his gaze.

  “You’ll do fine,” he said. “Let Paul take the lead on this one. From what I hear you’re talented and a quick study. You’ll get the hang of this soon enough.”

  Paul told him I was talented. Given that my boss was not quick to praise, that meant a lot. I looked at him uncertainly, almost shyly, and his expression became dark and savagely sexy. I had to look away. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said, peering into my mug, and keenly aware of his scorching gaze riveted to my profile.

  “I’ve worked with Paul for five years,” he said. “I trust his assessment. And my own.”

  I glanced up at him quickly, surprised. “But you don’t even know me,” I said.

  “I’ve read your resume,” he said. “Quite impressive, Miss Stevens. Paul was smart to hire you.” A feeling of joy rushed through me. I looked at him with awe and gratitude. “And I’m lucky that he did,” he said, giving me a devilish grin that had my knees going weak again.

  His eyes were burning, and riveted to my lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Stevens,” he said, looking intently, almost ardently into my eyes, then flashing me another smile and sauntering out of the kitchen.

  I stood there for a moment, feeling heat pulse through me, and a throbbing ache between my legs. I let out another long, shuddering breath, realizing that for a moment I’d stopped breathing. There was no question. I was done for.

  Chapter 3

  “There she is.”

  Stepping through the door of my apartment, I was met with a beaming Angela, dressed in geometrically patterned blue and white Vince Camuto shift dress, gold buckled motorcycle boots, and holding a glass of champagne. I looked her up and down and gave her a puzzled look. “I thought you weren’t working tonight.”

  She took a sip from her flute, and smoothed down her glossy black hair. She eyed me over the rim of her glass, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’m not,” she said.

  “Hot date then?” I asked, dropping my purse on the glass coffee table and sinking into the couch. Truth is, I was hoping she wasn’t going out to meet Ziggy. The walls in our apartment were thin, and I was really looking forward to a peaceful night free of grunting, groaning, screaming, and other sexual fireworks.

  “Nope,” she said, moving into the kitchen, opening the cupboard, and pulling out another champagne glass. She then spun around, opened the fridge door with a flourish, and pulled out a bottle of champagne. Not just any champagne, but a bottle of Dom Perignon. She filled the flute, topped up her own, and slinked back over to the couch. “We’re celebrating your success. Congrats babe,” she said, handing me my glass.

  I suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to cry. “Are you kidding me?” I said, all choked up. “Dom Perignon? That must have cost you all of your tips from last night.”

  She fluttered her eyelashes in a here comes trouble way, and put her hand on her hip. “A whole night of tips? Please. Have you ever seen me work the bar? I could buy us a whole case of this stuff with my earnings from one night.”

  I knew she was exaggerating. Angela made good money for sure, but getting me this gorgeous champagne was a serious cut into her weekly budget. It was such a sweet, grand, and beautiful gesture. “Ange, you’re the best,” I said, jumping to my feet to give her a heartfelt bear hug.

  “Cheers,” she said, flashing me her perfectly straight, big white teeth. Angela was truly model gorgeous. Tall, slender, and with curves in all the right places, she was a total knockout. She was also a fabulous mimic. She could do just about any character in any movie I’d ever seen. She bartended to pay the bills, but she was an aspiring actress, and spent every free moment during the day either practicing her craft or attending auditions.

  “Any auditions today?” I asked.

  She frowned briefly, then shrugged her shoulders. “Nope. But I’ve got something coming up next week. It’s for a new soap opera. Called . . . wait for it . . . Dashing, Filthy, Rich.”

  I started laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Nope,” she said, a look of wry amusement crossing her face. “My agent hasn’t sent me the script yet, but apparently I’m trying out for the part of a rich heiress with a drug problem.”

  “Well that’s not a stretch,” I said, bracing myself for a slap. I was only kidding around, but sometimes I worried about Angela. At times she’d snort a little coke to keep herself going at the end of the night, and Ziggy, who was almost always on something, wasn’t exactly the best influence.

  She smirked at me. “Well, at least you’ve been forewarned. If you catch me coked up, chalk it up to a sacrifice I have to make to get into character.”

  I rolled my eyes at her, and she laughed, but there was an edge to it. She knew I worried about her, and deep down, as much as it irritated her, she knew I had good reason.

  “Anyway,” she said, “Drink up.”

  “Love the dress by the way.”

  She threw her head back, emptied her glass, and did a little twirl. “I got all
dressed up for you. If you can’t get the girl to the party, bring the party to her,” she said, dropping onto the couch next to me. “Anyway,” she said, her tone getting serious, “you’re right about the bar. I wouldn’t have been able to hang out with you. Now we have all night to get silly drunk and catch up.” She filled up her glass, and wiped off a drop that had spilled down the side. “Any cute men at the office?” she asked, her tone getting light again.

  “Actually. . .”

  Her mouth dropped open, and she slapped me on the arm. “Sarah Stevens. Have you been holding out on me?” She shifted her legs up onto the couch, and gave me her full attention. Then she gripped my hand again and said, “Spill it.”

  I let out a long sigh, and pulled my legs up too so I was facing her. “I kinda have a crush on my boss’s partner. Julian.”

  “He’s hot?” she asked.

  “Devastatingly hot. And totally off limits. I mean I can’t jeopardize my career.”

  She looked at me in confusion. “But you don’t work for him. What’s the problem?”

  I took a sip of my champagne, suddenly feeling edgy. “I can’t do it. Guaranteed, my boss would totally look down on me. And my job means everything to me. I’m not going to throw it away over a guy. Plus, I don’t know anything about him. Other than the fact that he’s drop dead gorgeous and filthy rich. Anyway, he’s probably dating someone.”

  She looked at me quizzically, and arched an eyebrow at me. “Or maybe he’s not.” She put her finger to her lips, and scrunched her forehead as though she were deep in thought. “Ridiculously hot and filthy rich.” She nodded in an exaggerated way, with mock seriousness. “Yes. I definitely see the problem there.”

  I shook my head vehemently. “No Ange, there’s just no way.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and said, “Okay, fine. But it’s time you move on, you know? It’s been six months.” She looked pensive for a moment, as though she was seriously considering something. She bit her lip, and gave me a worried and apologetic look, like she knew I’d react badly to whatever she was about to say. “Rob asks about you all the time, you know. He knows he fucked up. And he wants you back.”

  I suddenly felt flooded with anger. “I’m never taking him back, Ange. Never. And I don’t ever want to hear from him again,” I said, my voice trembling with rage.

  Angela put her hands up in a gesture of defense. “Okay. I get it, Ser. I totally get it. Don’t shoot the messenger. I just don’t want to keep anything from you. He says he knows he was a total jerk. The fame went to his head and he jeopardized one of the only things that really mattered to him.”

  “It’s too late,” I said. “He treated me like dirt. He embarrassed the hell out of me. And then there’s that video,” I said, my voice starting to shake again. “I’ll never be able to live that one down.”

  Angela reached over and started soothingly rubbing my arm, “Hey,” she said softly. “Everyone blows up once in a while. You’re just unlucky that it was caught on video.”

  I started rubbing my temples, then squeezed the bridge of my nose. “It was a total psycho freak out, Ange. I watched it over and over, somehow hoping to prove to myself that it wasn’t as bad as it looked. But it was brutal. There’s no denying that.”

  Angela’s eyes became deadly serious. “You have to let it go, Ser.”

  I nodded, even as the memory of that night made me cringe in horror. I shook it off, and looked at Angela with what I hoped was a bright expression. “Hey, how ‘bout we finish off this bottle and then get out of here? I could use some fresh air and a literal change in perspective.”

  Angela nodded her head, then reached over for the champagne bottle, and poured the last of it into both of our flutes. “To new beginnings,” she said, raising her glass in a toast.

  I smiled at her, because she’d nailed it. That’s exactly what I needed. A new start. Letting go of the past, and just moving on with the present, and building a great future. And for me a great future meant focusing on my career, and leaving my love life well alone. I was finally happy being single. I didn’t realize how dependent I’d become on Rob until I had to face letting go of him. I think I cried for a month straight after we broke up, feeling needy, betrayed, in pain, and deeply embarrassed. I was never going to lose control like that again. I’d learned to rely only on myself, and I wanted to keep it that way.

  I clinked my glass against Angela’s and gave her a huge smile. “That’s a toast I can definitely drink to.”

  ***

  “Hi Sarah.” It was Annabel, the receptionist. “Mr. Jason Burns is here for the meeting.”

  “Thanks, Annabel. I’ll be right there to get him.” I quickly buzzed Paul and Julian’s assistant to let them know Mr. Burns was here. Then I took a deep breath, and made my way toward the office lobby. My stomach was tied in a tight knot, and my palms were sweating. There’s no way I could shake Jason’s hand like this. Luckily I had on navy slouchy trousers, with a jeweled leather belt, so I could actually get away with wiping my hands on my thighs and having no one notice. When I passed Amanda’s cubicle, I felt icicles form on the back of my neck. I turned around to give her a quick glance, and sure enough, she was giving me the death stare. Never mind. I didn’t have the time or energy for this. I held my head up high, put on what I hoped was a bright face, and marched through the door to reception.

  Annabel gave me a quick, professional smile, and gestured with her hand toward a guy sitting on the leather couch. Everything about Jason Burns exuded bad boy. He had on a black battered biker jacket with zippers just about everywhere, a black t-shirt, faded oversized jeans, and motorcycle boots. He quickly rose to meet me. With his deep brown eyes, curly jet black hair, and tanned skin, he was a real looker. And then there was that smile. Soft and warm, and totally at odds with the tough guy image. Something about that smile reminded me of Rob, my ex, and for a brief moment, I felt my stomach sink. Then I got a hold of myself, flashed him my most winning smile, and held out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Burns. I’m Sarah.” When our hands locked, I noticed his handshake was firm and warm, and it immediately put me at ease. “Mr. Cooper and Mr. McGregor are waiting for us in the boardroom. Please follow me.”

  He shrugged slightly and squinted his eyes at me. “The boardroom?” he asked. I noticed how awkward he suddenly looked, and realized he was uncomfortable with the degree of formality.

  I gave him a coaxing look, and returned his half-shrug. “It’s not as intimidating as it sounds.”

  I saw relief cross his face, and he finally nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it,” he said.

  I briefly knocked on the imposing mahogany doors of the boardroom. We waited for a beat, and then the door cracked open, and Paul was standing there smiling at us. He ushered us into the room, and proceeded with introductions. The moment I stepped into the room, I felt Julian’s eyes on me. I glanced at him briefly, flashed him a quick, nervous smile, and then looked away. But I didn’t look away fast enough. His effect on me was instantaneous. The moment those majestic, shrewd blue eyes locked with mine and scoured every inch of me, my heart jumped up into my throat, and tingles shot up my spine. I could even feel my lip starting to tremble again. “Morning, Ms. Waters,” he said, in a smooth, commanding voice, willing me, beckoning me, to take another look at him. And I did. And again my heart lurched and slammed hard in my chest. His gaze, so intense, so magnetic, demanded me to give him my full attention. This time I couldn’t look away. I felt my lips part, and my breathing become ragged. The man was absolute perfection. He was leaning back in his chair, dressed in a black silk suit, with a white linen dress shirt. I noticed his gold cufflinks, and when he picked up his coffee mug, his cuff slid up to reveal a matching gold Rolex that probably cost more than I would make in a year. His dark wavy hair was still a bit wet from a shower, and I could tell by the color in his chiseled cheeks that he had just recently worked out. Every inch of me yearned to run my fingers through his hair, unbutton that crisp linen shirt, and slide m
y hungry hands over the thick muscular chest that I knew was lying beneath all those sexy threads.

  No. No. No. I had to keep it together. I quickly pulled myself out of my trance. I desperately needed something to busy myself with until I could calm myself down. “Jason, can I get you a coffee? Or water?”

  Jason smiled at me gratefully. “Coffee sounds perfect.”

  “I’d like a refill too.” I looked back at Julian, his gaze steady, unrelenting. I gave him a quick nod, tore away my eyes, and looked at Paul expectantly. “Refill for you as well?” he nodded, but his expression was slightly solemn. I grabbed the carafe from the mahogany bar at the far end of the boardroom, a cup for Jason, and some sugar and milk packets.

  He gave me another grateful smile when I placed his steaming mug before him. I quickly filled up Paul’s mug, and then Julian’s. When I leaned over Julian, my hair fell forward, and brushed his face. He inhaled sharply, and I saw his whole body stiffen. “That’s enough, Sarah,” he said in a raspy voice that sent a charge of electricity shooting through me.