Fanning the Flames (Romance Firemen Series) Read online

  The three of them had often worked in different rooms while they got the apartment ready for the exit inspection, but there had always been a steady flow of conversation between them. This time there was nothing but frosty silence.

  “Everything ok?” Francine whispered to Cassie.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Cassie whispered back. “Let’s just get things done. Today needs to be over already.”

  Chapter 6

  The situation had not improved by the following day. After Brendan left, Cassie had told Francine everything only to learn that Francine agreed with Brendan.

  “What?!” Cassie yelped. “But you were the one going nuts over the fact that I was even going out with Nick!”

  “Yeah, I got excited. It's not every day my best friend gets asked out by a multi-millionaire!” Francine was working hard to control her tone of voice. “But I never said you should move in with the guy!”

  “I’m not moving in with him! Why doesn’t anyone understand that? He’s offering me a place to stay until I can get into my apartment. I don’t think he’s even going to be there most of the time! He’s always traveling! I probably won’t ever see him! It’s not that big of a deal!”

  “Ok, Cassie, ok. Just don’t rush into this, all right? Take some time to think about it.”

  “I don’t have time!”

  The argument escalated from there. Francine thought Cassie was blaming her for leaving. Cassie thought no one but Nick was even attempting to make things easier for her. By the end of the evening, they weren’t talking.

  Luckily, their feuds seldom lasted longer than a night. They’d patched things up a little over breakfast, agreeing not to talk about Cassie’s decision any further.

  A couple days later, Cassie had agreed to Nick's idea. They were in his car, on their way, she assumed, to the house on Louisburg Drive.

  Instead, Nick drove the Town Car toward the center of town and straight to the Four Seasons. Nick led her into the plush, softly-lit elevator, and much to her surprise, pushed the button marked Penthouse.

  She looked up at him, the question in her eyes.

  He placed a finger to his lips. “Don't talk. This is best appreciated in silence.” He smiled.

  The elevator doors opened, revealing one of the most spectacular views Cassie had ever seen; a panorama of millions of tiny lights lining the shore of the inky Atlantic.

  She had never seen the city from this perspective before. It was breathtaking. It took Cassie a moment to notice that the room they’d stepped into was in darkness, making it easier to enjoy the view of the night sky. The entire ceiling was made of glass, like being caught in a bubble beneath the stars.

  “Wow,” Cassie breathed. “It’s so beautiful!”

  “It’s one of my favorite places,” Nick told her, pressing a button on the wall to bring up the lights a little. Cassie saw a spacious living area furnished with huge, inviting leather couches, smart black against the pristine white carpet.

  At the other end of the room was a stylish sleeping area, equipped with the most luxuriously-large bed Cassie had ever seen. It was covered in black satin sheets. There was a spiral staircase leading downstairs; she peered over the edge to catch a glimpse of an ornate marble bathroom with a deep, sunken tub in dark grey stone.

  “Nick -” Cassie said suddenly, a note of warning in her voice.

  “It’s all right, Cassie,” he said, stopping her. “I can guess what you’re thinking and trust me, it’s all above board. I realize the layout of the space might make it appear otherwise, but I brought you here for dinner, nothing else.

  I don’t know of a more beautiful spot in the whole town, and the food is excellent. I thought we’d dine informally, if that suits you. Just have some champagne and order room service.”

  He led her into the living area, where a bottle of Dom Perignon was waiting on ice. With obvious expertise, Nick popped the cork and handed her a flute. Cassie browsed the room service menu. Nick either knew it by heart, or he was confident that the Four Seasons would be able to supply whatever he wanted.

  He picked up the phone and requested hamachi with edamame. Cassie, unsure of what many of the menu items were, asked for clam chowder.

  I should be enjoying this, she thought as the food was laid before them. This looks amazing. It’s just… She couldn’t complete the thought. She didn't know how to.

  As they dined, Cassie inquired politely about Nick’s trip, his father’s business, his poetry, anything she could think of to keep them off the topic of her living arrangements. Other than a text to let him know that she would take him up on his offer, they hadn't spoken about it at all.

  She knew she would have to discuss it with him, but the thought of talking about it brought back the memories of her argument with Brendan.

  Still somewhat intense, Nick became increasingly relaxed and jovial as the champagne did its work. The first bottle was nearly empty by the time they were served. He ordered a second, and talked amiably of his plans for his poetry collection.

  Cassie listened, sipping slowly and alternating with water. Nick did not appear to notice how he was outpacing her or how little she was saying.

  After dinner, they moved on to dessert, pomegranate sorbet for Nick and chocolate dim sum for Cassie. He ordered a bottle of tokay and drank most of it himself after Cassie discovered that dessert wine was too cloyingly sweet for her tastes.

  Coffee followed, and Nick insisted that they should have brandy with it.

  “I’m ok,” Cassie told him. “I’ve never even tasted brandy.”

  “Never tasted brandy! That’s crazy! I can see I’m going to have to educate your palate, Cassie!”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m happy to be unsophisticated.”

  Nick wasn’t listening. He was once again on the phone to room service, ordering something that sounded expensive. Within moments, a waiter appeared with a bottle and two balloon glasses. Nick poured the drinks and warmed them in his hands, handing one to Cassie and seating himself beside her to watch her drink.

  Cassie thought the smell of the drink was terrible, so she swirled it in her hand and tried to distract Nick with small talk.

  “Tell me how you started writing poetry,” she said, reaching for the first thing that came to her mind. “Is it something you’ve always done?”

  “No,” said Nick, his face darkening. “I started when Elaine left me. I told you I was pretty broken up. I went to therapy for a while. My therapist recommended poetry as an outlet. I wrote so many poems that I had enough for a collection, so I got it published. For all the good it did.”

  “What do you mean?” said Cassie. “It’s great that you got them published, isn’t it? I thought it was really hard for poets to get into print. You must have done something pretty special to have been accepted so quickly.”

  “I published them myself,” Nick spat. “I got rejections from everyone I sent them to until I finally just paid to have them printed.” He drained his glass in one swallow and refilled it.

  “Well, a lot of people self-publish,” Cassie said, trying to placate him, thrown by his sudden change of mood. “Even people like Proust—”

  “The difference, Cassie, is that Marcel Proust didn’t have the New York Times Literary Review saying his work was vapid, juvenile and derivative. I did.”

  “But you got an agent.”

  “Yeah. A seriously small-time agent who’s hoping that my father will buy me the huge publicity campaign I’d need to sell anything I ever write.

  He thinks I’ll learn my lesson and I’ll pay for some great reviews next time. He knows you can sell dog shit if you put enough advertising money behind it.”

  After so much alcohol, Nick’s speech was beginning to slur. “Nothing has gone right since she left, Cassie. Nothing.” He fell silent and stared morosely at the floor. Cassie put a comforting arm around him.

  “That will change now,” he continued. “Now that you’re here, Cassie. Things will be right now
that you’re here.” His head lolled onto her shoulder. “You’re better than she was. Prettier. Smarter. We can -” he yawned – “we can love each other properly.”

  Did I hear that right? Cassie thought, worriedly.

  Nick’s body went slack against her as he fell asleep. She wondered if she could drag him across the room and put him to bed, but he was too heavy for her to carry alone. She eased her shoulder from under his drooping head and lowered him onto the couch.

  She found some stationery and scribbled a quick note to thank him for dinner and to say she’d call the following day. She had planned to offer to split the check for their meal, but she knew the Four Seasons was way out of her budget. She thought about mentioning it in her note, but decided against it.

  She tiptoed to the elevator, her feet sinking into the plush white carpet. As the doors closed on the spectacular view, Nick’s words replayed over and over in Cassie’s head.

  He’s drunk, she reminded herself. People say weird things when they’re drunk. Stop over-thinking this. You need a place to stay, and you’re out of options.

  Chapter 7

  “Cassie, I am so sorry,” Nick’s voicemail showed up on Cassie’s phone while she was in the shower the next day. “I was a little jet-lagged, I should have gone easier on the champagne.”

  Yeah, Cassie thought, and the dessert wine, and the brandy.

  “I hope I didn’t say or do anything too embarrassing. There’ll be a room ready for you in the house on Louisburg Drive on Monday. I’ll come by and pick you up. Just let me know what time. I can send a truck for your things, if need be. I’m planning to put you in the master bedroom; I think you’ll like it, you can see right out over the Atlantic. I’ll call again later so we can talk about the details.”

  Francine padded into the kitchen in her robe and slippers. “How did it go?” she asked.

  “Oh, fine,” Cassie replied. For the first time in her long friendship with Francine, she felt exhausted at the thought of sharing the details with her. She couldn’t handle the idea of another interrogation or another suggestion that she should go south for an indefinite period of stifling parental affection.

  She wished that things didn’t have to change, that she could stay in the apartment with Francine, step out of her complicated whatever with Nick, and go back in time to before the argument with Brendan.

  Brendan. Cassie wondered what she should do about Brendan. She decided to text him.

  Hi. Wanted 2 let u know my temp address:

  75 Louisburg Dr

  She hit send, then watched her phone intently as she listened to Francine’s chatter about her preparations for departure. Brendan always replied quickly. With every minute that ticked by, she convinced herself she’d blown it, and he'd decided her friendship wasn’t worth it.

  Then her phone buzzed.

  hey. thanks for the info, see u sometime soon.

  Sometime soon? Cassie was disconcerted. She’d been hoping he would arrange something more definite. More than anything else, she just wanted to resume their regular coffee sessions. Even after such a short time, she missed the comfort of his company.

  She forced herself to put down her phone and concentrate her efforts on the time she had remaining with Francine. In less than forty-eight hours, her best friend would be on her way to Europe, and this chapter of their lives would be closed.

  The forty-eight hours flew by. The girls had a final take-out meal together, surrounded by scattered boxes and bags. On Monday morning, they ceremoniously shared a pot of coffee and split a single cruller between them. Then it was time to get on the bus, watching the clear blue skies and white beaches of the Cape roll by as they headed to the airport.

  “I’m going to miss you so much,” Cassie whispered into Francine’s ear as they hugged at the International Departure gate.

  “I know,” said Francine. “I’ll miss you, too. But it’s only a year. I’ll be back. Unless I meet some amazing Polish guy or something. And even if I do, I promise we’ll still talk. We can have coffee and donuts over video chat. I’m still going to want to know every detail of everything you do, especially where Brendan is concerned.”

  Cassie rolled her eyes. “They’re calling your flight,” she said. “You better go. Call me as soon as you land. I miss you already.”

  They exchanged a last hug, and then Francine was gone, leaving Cassie to make her way back to the Cape alone.

  Chapter 8

  Arriving at Louisburg Drive was surreal. She was in the passenger side of a two-seater Mercedes, her overnight bag in her lap, while the little U-Haul she had rented followed behind driven by Nick’s chauffeur.

  “It’s just our little summer place,” Nick had warned her as he picked her up. “Don’t get too excited.”

  But by Cassie’s standards, the house they arrived at was far from little. It was a mansion. Nick paused for a moment as he unlocked the door, turning to look out at the ocean.

  The sun was setting, the sky a deep pink tinged with an orange glow. He smiled silently at Cassie as if they were living through the closing moments of a romantic movie, and then opened the door.

  The first floor of the house was decorated in lavish Colonial style, all white painted wood and thin-legged furniture.

  “I’ll give you a proper tour of the house later,” Nick said. “First, I'll show you to your room. You can put your bag down and freshen up, if you'd like.”

  Cassie followed him up the staircase and into the master bedroom. Except for the evening at the Four Seasons, Cassie had never seen a room like this except pictured in magazines.

  It was airy and spacious, with an enormous window at one end of the room displaying the spectacular ocean view. At the other end was an equally spectacular canopy bed, draped in white linen and heaped with soft pillows.

  “Like it?” Nick asked, watching her as she took in the view. “That’s our beach straight ahead. Want to see the rest of the house?”

  Dutifully, Cassie followed him around. Along the way, he taught her how to work the coffee maker and the shower, and he showed her where to find the remotes to control the lights and the temperature.

  He explained the styles in which each of the rooms was furnished, telling her about his mother’s penchant for design and how different everything looked years ago when his family first bought the house.

  “Nick,” Cassie said as perched at the breakfast bar, sipping coffee. “Are you going to be staying here too?”

  “Of course!” he laughed. “Unless my dad decides there’s something else he doesn’t feel like doing and dumps it on me. But as far as I know, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t be here as long as you are.”

  “Ok,” Cassie hesitated. “So where’s your room?”

  He laughed again. “Firstborn son of the Mandeville family, Cassie!” he said. “I’ll be in the master bedroom, of course.”

  “But I’m in the master bedroom.”

  “Yes.” Nick said, as though speaking to a child. “Oh, Cassie! Don’t be so provincial! Nothing has to happen, ok? If you’re uncomfortable with us getting intimate at this stage, we’ll wait.”

  Cassie slid off her stool at the breakfast bar. “I don’t know if you’re joking…”

  He shook his head “I told you before, I seldom joke.”

  “Then I must have given you some serious mixed message or something, because I don’t do this kind of thing. I’m very grateful that you’re giving me a place to stay for a couple of weeks, but that’s all this is. I didn’t move in to be in a relationship with you. I’m sorry if I gave you some kind of signal that made you think otherwise.”

  Nick’s amusement was gone. He leveled his eyes at her. “Cassie,” he said sternly, “I’d hardly call it a mixed message. I know you’re telling me you want to take it slow, and I respect that. That’s why I’m saying nothing has to happen. But you’ve moved in. We’re living under the same roof. I don’t see the point in having separate rooms. I’d rather be near you, get to k
now you. Then when you’re ready, we can move forward.”

  He tried to put his arms around her, but she dodged out of his way.

  “Nick, you’re not listening.” She took a few steps backwards, one hand behind her back searching for the comforting feel of the door handle. “We’re not together. I can’t go straight from having a couple dates to sleeping in the same bed! I can’t believe you’d think that was ok! Look, it was really nice of you to offer me a place, but I think I’d better leave.”

  Nick’s handsome face curled into an ugly sneer. “Oh? And where do you intend to go? It’s after dark and all your stuff is here.”

  “That’s not your problem.”

  “If you think I’m going to bail you out, you’re wrong. If you want me to spend any more on you, it’s time you started showing a little gratitude!”

  Seeing Nick take a step toward her, Cassie dived out the door and fled. She kept running until she was sure Nick had not followed. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she rested on the sidewalk taking deep, ragged breaths.

  Only then did she realize that her purse was inside the house hanging on the back of one of the chairs. As the chilly evening air gave her goose bumps, she realized her jacket was back there, too.

  Then she felt the comforting bump of her cell phone in the pocket of her jeans. Heaving a massive sigh of relief she pulled it out and flipped it open.

  Her relief didn't last long. As she scrolled through her contacts, she remembered how few of her friends were still in town. Her phone was full of old friends who lived in other states, teacher friends who were on vacation or visiting family, and names of people she barely even remembered. Finally, she selected a number to call.

  “Hello?”

  Cassie took a deep breath. “Hi Brendan,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “It’s Cassie.”

  “Cassie.” The warmth of his voice was so reassuring that Cassie wanted to cry. “How’s it going?”