Light My Fire (Man of the Month Book 11) Read online

  She heard someone begging, then realized it was her. And as he urged her to come on, to come with him, to follow him over, she felt the pressure that had built inside her give way to the force an explosion, and she went over with him … all the way to the stars, and then safely back to earth in his arms.

  Beverly stared at the coffee maker, trying to will it to brew faster. She and Griffin had stayed up way too late last night. Not that she regretted a single moment, but she needed a serious caffeine jolt to get going. Especially if, as she hoped, she’d get to enjoy a repeat performance before the day really got going.

  That hope, however, was countered against the fear that Griffin would wake up with morning after regret. Not because they weren’t good together—as far as she was concerned, the judges given them a perfect ten—but because he might have lingering fears or insecurities or whatever it was that kept him focusing on his scars and prevented him from believing that any woman would really want him, much less her.

  Frustrating as hell, but maybe last night set him straight, and he’d wake up more clued in to the reality. Especially considering reality had her falling fast and hard for the guy.

  “Morning, beautiful,” Griffin said.

  She turned to face him, her already broad smile widening when she saw that he’d come into the kitchen wearing only a pair of boxers and a short-sleeved UCLA T-shirt. No hoodie, no gloves. So maybe she’d truly passed the test.

  Her mind drifted back to all the delicious things they did last night. He’d definitely scored an A-plus. And she really hoped he judged her just as highly.

  “So how are you?” she asked, adding an extra dose of flirty goodness to her words. “Coffee?” She stood on her toes, reaching up to get one of the larger mugs from the cabinet’s top shelf.

  “I’ll count this morning as one of my better ones,” he said, with a hint of a tease in his voice. “Although I really think you should—”

  “Please don’t say I should go.” The words more or less fell from her lips. She should have held them back—the last thing she wanted was to sound needy—but she consoled herself with the fact that they were true. And as far as Griff was concerned, she’d decided to go the route of utmost veracity.

  “Go?” He laughed, then slid his arms around her waist. “All I was going to say is that you should put on some underwear if you want to get any work done today.”

  She swallowed, realizing that she’d tossed on nothing but his old T-shirt when she’d gotten out of bed. That grab for a mug had probably given him one hell of a view. The thought brought a wicked smile to her lips as she poured him a cup. “Is that all that’s on the agenda today? Work?”

  He took the mug gratefully. “Got something else in mind?”

  “Well, I happen to know you have a pretty comfortable bed.”

  “Can’t argue with that.” He put the mug down and took a step toward her, his naturally arched brows enhancing his mischievous expression. “But here’s what I want to know,” he added, when he was only inches from her.

  “What?” The word came out almost like a gasp. Only moments before, her breathing was fine, her heart rate normal. But with every millimeter he came closer, the more she felt his pull. A wild, sensual demand to which she desperately wanted to surrender.

  “What are we doing?” He spoke the words softly, but they felt cold and harsh to her.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, her heart pounding with trepidation.

  “Just what I asked. I want to know what we’re doing. What this means.” He drew a breath and straightened, and those wonderfully dark eyes and his overnight beard stubble only seemed to underscore the words and the tone.

  But she still didn’t get the meaning.

  “Are we done?” he asked flatly, the idea making her cringe. “Was the point of last night to get it out of our systems? Or is this something we want to repeat?”

  She licked her lips. “Yes, please.”

  “Why?”

  Her brows furrowed as she frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I want to know what we have here. Or, at least, what path we’re on. Are we fuck buddies?” he asked, the words making her cringe. “Or are we more?”

  She looked up, her eyes meeting his, then drew in a shaky breath. “More.”

  “How much more?” His voice was low. Intense.

  “As much as I can get,” she said honestly. “I—I think we have something between us. Something real.”

  She held her breath as he nodded slowly, waiting to hear if he agreed or if he was going to let her down slowly.

  “Good,” he said, moving closer, then taking her hands in his. “I think so, too.”

  She exhaled, laughing as she did, the relief so palpable it was almost painful. “Thank God.”

  “Ditto,” he said, and they both laughed even harder. But a moment later, the laughter faded, and they were simply standing there, looking in each other’s eyes. He moved toward her, and so gently it brought tears to her eyes, he kissed her.

  When they broke apart, she sighed, then looked at the clock. “We slept late.”

  “And yet we got so little sleep.”

  She giggled—something very unlike her—but she couldn’t disagree. “Have you got eggs? I could make breakfast.”

  “How about I take you out for lunch? We could go to The Fix. See who’s hanging around.”

  “Oh. We could.” She often ate there when she was downtown, but there was a strange edge to his voice that she couldn’t dismiss. “Why?”

  His wide smile erased all her worries. “Maybe I want to show you off. Or maybe I want to show us off.”

  Her heart about burst in her chest. “In that case, I’ll grab my purse.”

  At two in the afternoon, The Fix was almost empty. The bar had recently started opening at eleven so that they could cater to the downtown lunch crowd, but past one, most customers were back in their offices.

  Today, when Griffin held the door for Beverly and followed her inside, he saw only a half dozen unfamiliar people at three tables, and then a few familiar faces scattered along the bar.

  “Bar or table?” Griffin asked as he took her hand.

  “Bar,” she said firmly, as he followed her gaze to where Mina was chatting with Cam as he stood behind the bar. At the far end, Brent and Reece huddled over something that looked like a ledger, and behind them, in the doorway, Jenna leaned against the doorjamb with her hand on her belly as she talked with Tyree and his fiancée, Eva.

  “Hey, you guys,” Cam said in greeting. “You here for working, eating, or both.”

  “Right now, we’re eating and celebrating.” He squeezed her hand. Her left hand, which meant he was holding her with his right. “Work can come later.”

  “Celebrating? You mean the script?” Cam chuckled. “Or have you sold something else amazing to Hollywood?”

  “Stop it,” Mina chided. “Selling a script to a major studio is worth multiple days of—oh!”

  Griffin pulled out a chair for Beverly as Cam frowned at Mina.

  “Oh? What, oh?” Cam asked, but Mina ignored him, coming over to stand behind Griffin and Beverly.

  “Seriously? Oh my God! I’m so happy for you!” She threw her arms around him and hugged, and Griff did his best not to flinch—which wasn’t too hard since the contact was all through his hoodie. Besides, this was Mina, his former intern, and he knew her well.

  “Seriously, guys,” Cam said, clearly baffled as Mina repeated the process by capturing Beverly in a hug as well. “What the hell?”

  “You doofus,” Mina said. “They’re dating.”

  Cam’s confusion shifted into a smile. “Yeah?”

  “Yup,” Beverly said, and if he’d had any doubts, the pleasure in her voice would have erased them all.

  “Wow,” he said. “That’s great. Drinks on the house.”

  “Um, hello?” Reece’s voice drifted down from the far end of the bar. “Why did I promote you to weekend manager?”

&nbs
p; “A good question,” Griffin said, “since he seems to be here as much during the week as on the weekend.”

  “Griff and Beverly are an item,” Cam called back. “I’m supporting this place’s growing reputation as an alternative to Internet dating sites.”

  “No lie,” Mina said, as Cam continued. “A lot of folks have hooked up inside these walls.” She frowned. “Well, maybe not inside the walls…”

  Cam smirked. “As for the weekday work, I don’t have classes this week, and Eric needed someone to cover for him.” He shot a grin toward Reece. “It’s my loyalty and commitment to this place that landed me that awesome managerial position.”

  “True enough,” Reece said. “And congrats, you two. How long has this been going on?”

  Griffin watched as Beverly’s cheeks bloomed pink. “Pretty much since last night,” he said.

  “It was a hell of a night,” she added, leaning over to Mina as the girls laughed together.

  “I’m so happy for you both.” Mina’s whisper was obviously meant for Beverly, but Griffin heard it and he drew in a satisfied breath. Yeah. This was good.

  “What are we celebrating?” Tyree’s low voice filled the bar as he and Eva headed toward them, followed by Jenna and Brent, who was still scowling at a sheath of papers.

  Jenna stepped in beside Reece, and he immediately pulled her in front of him, his hands going protectively over her baby bump.

  “Coupledom,” Beverly said in response to Tyree’s question. She took the glass of bourbon Cam offered her, then lifted it to Griffin’s. “To us.”

  “To all of us,” Cam said, pouring a round for all of them. Griff couldn’t help but smile. He was right. Cam and Mina. Tyree and Eva. Reece and Jenna. Now him and Beverly.

  He frowned, realizing Brent was the odd man out. Brent, however, was too engrossed in his document to notice.

  “Yo, Brent.” Reece’s voice tugged Brent from work. “Grab a glass. We’re toasting Griffin and Beverly.”

  “Oh. Sure.” His expression cleared, and he obviously realized the import of the words. “Hey, that’s fabulous. Seriously, congrats, you two.”

  “Thanks,” Beverly said, as Reece asked, “What are you looking at, anyway?”

  Brent tossed the papers onto the bar. “Trying to get a bead on our graffiti artist. I’m checking the specs and alignment procedure on the damn security cameras. Right now we’ve got nothing except on number four, and all I can see there is a person, probably male, in dark jeans, a dark sweat jacket, and a dark hood.”

  “What happened?” Beverly asked.

  “Someone pretty much covered the east side of the building with graffiti. And not the artistic kind,” Tyree explained, anger lining his usually calm voice.

  The Fix was located in an historic Austin building that took up the corner of one block on Sixth Street. Which meant that it had an entrance on Sixth Street, but also a long, limestone wall on the east side that had a few windows and went all the way back to the alley.

  “We’ll find them and stop them,” Eva said, her hand closing over Tyree’s arm. “Brent’s on it.”

  “I’ve had someone spray over the vulgar bits,” Brent said. “And Reece has called a contractor to come blast it off. But I want to make sure we have a better plan in place to catch taggers. Bonus points if we can implement something to prevent it.”

  “Maybe it was a one-off,” Beverly suggested.

  “I hope so,” Brent said. “But I’m planning for the worst.”

  As he spoke, the front door burst open and Elena hurried in. Tall and slender with a stunning face and short dark hair, Beverly thought that the younger woman could easily be a model. The daughter of Tyree and Eva, she had features from both of them, and the combination was absolutely beautiful.

  “What’s wrong?” Brent asked, almost simultaneously with Eva.

  “I need to talk to you,” she said to Tyree. “And to you,” she added to Brent, who frowned. “It’s about the bar and the historical commission and it’s important.” Her words spilled out, falling over each other.

  “Of course,” Brent said, taking her arm as he shot a glance toward Tyree. “We can talk right now,” he added, signaling for Jenna and Reece to follow.

  Griffin frowned, wondering what was going on. He was about to ask if Cam had a clue when the door opened again, and this time Megan bounded in. “Is it true? Jenna just sent me a text and—Oh my God!”

  She glanced between him and Beverly, zeroed in on their clasped hands on the bar, and practically sprinted across the bar. “About damn time,” she said, making Beverly laugh.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” she said. “And yet at the same time, my timing sucks.”

  Griffin frowned, not liking the sound of that. “What do you mean?”

  “I have to leave for LA tomorrow first thing tomorrow morning. Crypto Games premiere, remember? I’ll be stuck there about a week with interviews and publicity and photo ops and all that good stuff. I’m not knocking it—I mean, it’s the job, and it’s great—but the timing sucks.”

  “Doesn’t have to,” Megan said. “Griff’s got family in LA. And since he’s a writer, he’s portable. You should go, too,” she added, turning her attention to him.

  Beside him, Beverly shifted on her stool, facing him more directly. “That’s an amazing idea. Would you? Do you want to? You could even come to the premiere with me,” she added, making his pulse kick up and his mouth go dry with horror. “It would be fabulous for you to be my date, and we—”

  She swallowed, obviously realizing what she was suggesting. “Actually, just having you in town would be fabulous. The premiere thing was me running off at the mouth, and I wasn’t thinking about—”

  He pressed his hand over hers, silencing her as relief flooded him. “I’d love to come,” he said sincerely. “But I think I’ll skip the premiere. After all, I already had a private screening with the star. I can’t imagine it would get any better than that.”

  And then, as much to hide his anxiety as because he wanted to, he leaned over and—with Cam and Mina and Megan watching—he drew her close for a long, slow kiss.

  Chapter Eight

  Griffin watched as Beverly juggled a series of phone calls as they rode in the limo from the airport to the Stark Century Hotel, a stunning property in the heart of Century City, just minutes from the theater that would be hosting the premiere.

  “No,” she was saying to the studio publicist, “I can go to the boutique for a fitting, but I need to get dressed and do makeup at my hotel.” She paused for a beat as she shot him an I’m sorry look, then, “That’s fine. Just tell me what time everyone is arriving. Perfect. Great. That gives me plenty of time to meet Chris and get to the press function before we need to do the red carpet routine.”

  She wrapped up the conversation, then fell back against the seat, shooting him an apologetic glance as she did so.

  “I’m sorry this is so crazy,” Beverly said. “Everything moves at the speed of light the day of a premiere, and I made it worse by waiting until the morning of to fly in.”

  “Not a problem. My sister’s done the premiere thing, too.” A dancer, Kelsey had made a splash in her now-husband’s photography exhibition of erotic images, A Woman In Mind. And that had led to a starring role in the film adaptation of a Tony award-winning musical, The Far Side of Jupiter.

  “Oh, that’s right,” Beverly said. “I loved her in Jupiter. She lives out here, doesn’t she?”

  “I thought I’d hang out with her while you do your thing tonight.” He watched her face, trying to judge if she was truly okay with him not going. He hoped so. He’d been to his share of Hollywood parties—his friend Bird had directed him when he’d done voiceover work for a major release, and Bird had insisted Griffin come to a few parties at his house—but there was no press there, he could dress how he wanted, and he didn’t have to stay too long.

  A film premiere was basically an excuse to gather every camera in the greater Los Angeles area
in one place.

  Right now, he was known as a reclusive writer and voice actor. There’d been some press about the fact that he was a burn victim, but not much, and not in any of the major trades, and it never trended on social media. Griffin Draper had been burned as a child in Santa Barbara. Griffin Blaize mostly remained a mystery.

  That, he knew, was partly because his success was small-scale. Success, yes. But not world premier, multi-million dollar movie budget, red-carpet success.

  Hidden Justice had that potential, though. And what then?

  “We’re here,” she said as the limo pulled to a stop. She took his hand and offered him a small smile. “You looked a million miles away. Or were you only back in Texas, wishing you hadn’t come?”

  “Definitely not,” he said, lifting her fingers and kissing her hand. “I was thinking that in the not too distant future, we’ll have our own premiere.”

  He thought the words would make her smile, but she only studied his face.

  “What?”

  “I just—I’m sorry. I was only thinking. I don’t want—never mind.”

  “Beverly…”

  “I want that to be fun for you. For both of us.” She lifted a shoulder. “That’s all.”

  He started to ask her what she meant, but the driver had come around to open the door. Just as well. To be honest, he understood. She wanted him there, on the red carpet, soaking up the accolades. Not hiding in a hotel like he was doing tonight.

  Tonight was her movie, and he’d only be her date, so she got it, even if she’d prefer he came with her. But Hidden Justice belonged to them both. If he stayed away that night, would she understand that, too?

  It wasn’t something he wanted to think about, because that required considering the possibility that he’d make that red carpet promenade, light bulbs popping, recording who he was and what he looked like. And as his stock grew in the industry, they’d dig. There’d be stories on the Internet, pictures on social media. Interviews with the hospital staff at the various burn centers that had treated him.