Into The Flames (Firehouse Fourteen Book 4) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Lisa B. Kamps
about how she looked? She dressed for comfort in flowing skirts and loose tops when she was out, or in stained shirts and flowing skirts when she was home. Her only accessories were the crystal pendant hanging from the leather thong around her neck and the ever-present smears of paint. Always smears of paint, because she never quite remembered to clean all of it off and it never really mattered before.
Why did it matter now?
Her fingers tightened on the fragile stem of the glass and she took a deep breath, relaxing her grip, trying to relax herself. She knew why, and it was silly. So silly.
Because of him .
She wished she had never met him. Never gone next door, never saw him standing there in those loose pants and bare chest with his smooth glowing skin and rugged muscles and that ridiculous tattoo across his chest. Latin, of all things. He probably didn't even know what it meant.
Vini. Vidi. Vici.
A little thrill went through her as she wondered what, exactly, he had conquered. She shivered and quickly took another sip of champagne, hoping Anna hadn't noticed. The other woman was watching her, a patient expression on her smooth face, her head tilted slightly to the side. Waiting. Waiting for what, though?
Anna must have asked her a question, a question Melanie didn't hear because her thoughts had been scattered elsewhere. She cleared her throat and smiled at the older woman, hoping she would repeat the question without being asked.
Anna laughed, the sound low and smoky, then moved to sit behind her desk. "You must tell me, dear. What possessed you to paint something so different?"
Possessed . Melanie wasn't sure what to make of that word, worried that it fit too well. "I just, um…my neighbor…I may have been a little angry when I painted it."
Anna laughed again then raised her glass in a small salute. "To your neighbor, then." She finished the champagne then placed the glass near the edge of her desk before pulling her planner close. Her long fingers flipped through the pages, lines creasing her otherwise smooth face. She stopped at one page, a thoughtful expression on her face, then shook her head and turned a few more of the colorful sheets. Her face cleared and she looked up with a satisfied smile.
"Six weeks!"
Melanie stared at her, not understanding. "For what?"
"I will schedule a special auction just for your works in six weeks. The middle of May. The anticipation will be fabulous. And that will give you time to paint at least one more. Two would be better, but yes, at least one more."
"One more what?"
"Of your fiery creations, dear. Yes, this will be perfect. I can see it now. The auction will be black-tie, of course. Surrounded in mystery. I'll have Carla begin the advertising and PR for it this week."
"But—"
"No buts." Anna stood and made her way over to Melanie, a bright smile on her face as she reached for her hands and pulled her to her feet. "I know you. Stop doubting yourself. Don't be afraid to let your inner turmoil show."
Inner turmoil? Good grief, is that what Anna saw in the painting? How could she see something so far from the truth, something that wasn't there? Melanie had to stop her, had to tell her she was wrong.
She didn't get the chance because Anna kept talking the entire time she led Melanie downstairs and over to the door, shooing her out with a quick kiss and instructions to go home and paint.
To tap her inner turmoil and set it free.
"But I don't have any inner turmoil." A chilly breeze caught the words and carried them away. It didn't matter, because there was nobody there to hear them. Melanie stood outside, barely feeling the chilled air as she stared at the closed door and wondered what she was supposed to do now.
She needed to call her mother. Mom and Dad would know what to do.
She hoped.
Chapter Four
How could she have lost her keys? She couldn't have, they should be right there with her car keys. Right on the same ring. They couldn't be lost.
But they
Why did it matter now?
Her fingers tightened on the fragile stem of the glass and she took a deep breath, relaxing her grip, trying to relax herself. She knew why, and it was silly. So silly.
Because of him .
She wished she had never met him. Never gone next door, never saw him standing there in those loose pants and bare chest with his smooth glowing skin and rugged muscles and that ridiculous tattoo across his chest. Latin, of all things. He probably didn't even know what it meant.
Vini. Vidi. Vici.
A little thrill went through her as she wondered what, exactly, he had conquered. She shivered and quickly took another sip of champagne, hoping Anna hadn't noticed. The other woman was watching her, a patient expression on her smooth face, her head tilted slightly to the side. Waiting. Waiting for what, though?
Anna must have asked her a question, a question Melanie didn't hear because her thoughts had been scattered elsewhere. She cleared her throat and smiled at the older woman, hoping she would repeat the question without being asked.
Anna laughed, the sound low and smoky, then moved to sit behind her desk. "You must tell me, dear. What possessed you to paint something so different?"
Possessed . Melanie wasn't sure what to make of that word, worried that it fit too well. "I just, um…my neighbor…I may have been a little angry when I painted it."
Anna laughed again then raised her glass in a small salute. "To your neighbor, then." She finished the champagne then placed the glass near the edge of her desk before pulling her planner close. Her long fingers flipped through the pages, lines creasing her otherwise smooth face. She stopped at one page, a thoughtful expression on her face, then shook her head and turned a few more of the colorful sheets. Her face cleared and she looked up with a satisfied smile.
"Six weeks!"
Melanie stared at her, not understanding. "For what?"
"I will schedule a special auction just for your works in six weeks. The middle of May. The anticipation will be fabulous. And that will give you time to paint at least one more. Two would be better, but yes, at least one more."
"One more what?"
"Of your fiery creations, dear. Yes, this will be perfect. I can see it now. The auction will be black-tie, of course. Surrounded in mystery. I'll have Carla begin the advertising and PR for it this week."
"But—"
"No buts." Anna stood and made her way over to Melanie, a bright smile on her face as she reached for her hands and pulled her to her feet. "I know you. Stop doubting yourself. Don't be afraid to let your inner turmoil show."
Inner turmoil? Good grief, is that what Anna saw in the painting? How could she see something so far from the truth, something that wasn't there? Melanie had to stop her, had to tell her she was wrong.
She didn't get the chance because Anna kept talking the entire time she led Melanie downstairs and over to the door, shooing her out with a quick kiss and instructions to go home and paint.
To tap her inner turmoil and set it free.
"But I don't have any inner turmoil." A chilly breeze caught the words and carried them away. It didn't matter, because there was nobody there to hear them. Melanie stood outside, barely feeling the chilled air as she stared at the closed door and wondered what she was supposed to do now.
She needed to call her mother. Mom and Dad would know what to do.
She hoped.
Chapter Four
How could she have lost her keys? She couldn't have, they should be right there with her car keys. Right on the same ring. They couldn't be lost.
But they
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