Saved By The Firefighter. Rachel Brimble

about?” Trent snapped his glare between Will and Sam as he rose from the table. He crossed his arms over his pool cue, his defenses high. “Have you guys been talking about me or something?”

      Sam nodded. “You need to get your shit together.”

      “I need...” Trent laughed. “I have got my shit together. Didn’t I get two kids out of a second-floor window this afternoon? Did I dream that?”

      “You went into that house ahead of the chief’s call. You went in there without looking back to see where the rest of us were. You were on a mission, Trent. Trouble is, I’m starting to wonder if your mission has more to do with you than it does the job.”

      Trent tightened his fingers around his cue. “Are you serious?”

      “Deadly serious.”

      Will stepped between Trent and Sam and placed his hands on each of their shoulders. “Look, just take it down a notch.” He looked at Trent. “What we’re trying to say is, you’re not yourself and over the past few months, you seem to be getting worse. What’s going on?”

      Grief and adrenaline blended into a potent mix inside him. If his best friends didn’t understand what losing Robbie...and Izzy...had done to him, then who would?

      Trent shrugged Will’s hand from his shoulder and laid down his cue. Lifting his glass, he drained his beer and put the glass on the table. He looked at his friends. “You really don’t get it, do you? I’ve lost people. Not just people who mean something to me, but people who mean something to others too. It’s starting to feel like a regular occurrence. I have to do more. Step up my game. Stop thinking so much and get in there and save them. What if I could’ve gotten to Robbie quicker if I hadn’t waited for the all-clear?”

      “That’s bullshit and you know it.” Will’s cheeks darkened as his angry gaze bore into Trent’s. “Robbie was dead on arrival. That falling beam killed him. It wasn’t even the damn fire.”

      “Yeah? Well, you try explaining that to his sister. You see how well Izzy takes that summary of the situation, because I sure as hell can hardly bear to look in her eyes and see her pain.”

      Will swiped his hand over his face and slumped his shoulders. “Then let her go, man, and maybe you’ll accept we can’t save every single person from a fire. If you don’t accept that, this job is going to screw you up. Sam and me aren’t going to stand by and let that happen. Do you hear me?”

      Trent looked from Will to Sam, his heart pumping and his mind racing. Were they right? Was his need to be there for Izzy, to care and protect her, messing with his ability to do his job properly?

      The music grew louder and the walls came in closer as the smell and smile of one out-of-reach woman slammed into him. “What I feel for Izzy is no one’s business. Not even yours. If I let you down, if you get hurt on my watch, if I fail in any way when I could have won, then come back at me again. In the meantime, if I have your back, if I’m saving lives, do me a favor and keep your opinions to yourself.”

      Trent shouldered through the dense crowd as he made his way to the bar’s double doors and into the fresh evening air. He breathed deep and blinked against the stinging in his eyes as he looked to the star-spangled sky.

      If Izzy was so wrong for him, then why did he want to run to her right now rather than get his ass back home where it belonged?

      * * *

      IZZY STEPPED FROM the cab and paid the fare through the window. She turned and stared at the front office window of Sanford & Co. Having spent the last couple of days researching Richard Crawley, she’d learned there was good money to be made in early-evening entertainment. The guy owned a Ferrari as well as a fifty-foot yacht. She doubted either had a softening effect on Crawley’s inflated ego.

      Clearing her throat, she tugged on the hem of her fitted white shirt and smoothed it over the hips of her black skinny jeans before pushing open the door of the agency. The pride she’d felt at finally dragging herself out of Templeton for a few hours faltered as insecurity threatened its return.

      Kate might have been right that it was time for Izzy to get out of town for a while, but was Kate right when she’d said Izzy could cope with the visit to a big-city agency? Now she was here, nerves leaped like jumping beans in her stomach.

      She breathed deep against her rising panic.

      She could do this. She could get Richard Crawley to front the calendar. She would do it for Maya.

      Lifting her chin, her ballet flats brushing over the beige carpet tiles, she approached the young woman sitting behind the reception desk.

      “Hi. Welcome to Sanford and Co. Can I help you?”

      Izzy cleared her throat. “Um, yes. I have an appointment with Mr. Sanford and Richard Crawley. I’m Izzy Cooper.”

      “Of course. Nice to meet you. They’re in Mr. Sanford’s office waiting for you. Would you like tea? Coffee? Juice?”

      “A coffee would be great, thank you.”

      “Latte? Cappuccino? Black? Cream? Mocha?”

      Izzy stared. “A latte would be great. Thanks.”

      “Fabulous.” The receptionist came around the desk and held out her hand toward a closed door at the back of the office. “They’re just through here. If you’d like to follow me.”

      Clutching her portfolio a little tighter, Izzy felt her hand turn clammy. It was just another assignment. No big deal. She was a damn good photographer and she’d met celebrities before. No doubt Richard Crawley would be just the same as any other. All she needed to do was make him feel as though he was the most important aspect of her plans and everything would go swimmingly.

      The receptionist knocked on the door and pushed it open. “Mr. Sanford, I have Izzy Cooper here for you.”

      “Ah, send her in. Send her in.”

      She turned and smiled at Izzy, easing the door wider. “Ms. Cooper.”

      “Thank you.” Izzy stepped into the room.

      Richard Crawley, and the man she assumed was Mr. Sanford, rose from their chairs in a plush seating area at the far end of the office. They came toward her and Izzy forced her feet forward as Mr. Sanford held out his hand. “Francis Sanford. Nice to meet you.”

      Izzy took his hand and smiled. “You too.”

      He shook her hand and touched the base of her spine lightly with the other, turning her toward Richard Crawley. “Let me introduce you to Mr. Richard Crawley.”

      She met the eyes of the TV host and ex-Templeton resident. With his dark hair and even darker eyes, square jaw and strong build, it would be hard to deny his good looks.

      Izzy blushed under his friendly gaze and held out her hand, relieved it was steady. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Crawley.”

      “You too. I like your work. And please, call me Richard.” His dark eyes sparkled as they bored into hers, his equally dark tan accentuated under the glare of sunlight through the large window beside them. “You’re a phenomenal photographer. I’m delighted with this chance to work with you.”

      Izzy dipped her head, a little of her self-consciousness deteriorating in the face of his kindly stare and infectious smile. “Thank you.”

      He nodded and gestured toward a black leather sofa. “Would you like to sit down?”

      Izzy eased her hand from his and walked around the low coffee table to sit in an armchair. The men asked for more coffee from the receptionist and returned to the sofa beside her.

      Richard Crawley lounged back, crossing his legs so his ankle rested casually on the opposite knee. “So, from what I’ve heard, it’s been a while since you’ve taken any work past the mundane bread-and-butter stuff.”

      Mundane bread and butter stuff? I love my work.