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Her Perfect Hero
Kara Lennox
Can He Save The Day?The firefighters of Firehouse 59 can't help but wonder when Brady's Tavern, the local hangout, will reopen after the owner passes away. Cute Julie Polk doesn't seem the type to run a bar, but hey, she's better looking than Brady ever was! Needless to say, they're stunned when Julie decides to convert the place into a… tearoom!Determined not to let that happen, the firefighters elect Tony Veracruz, the resident Casanova, to sweet-talk the blonde into changing her mind. Brady's Tavern should be back in no time! But as Tony gets closer to Julie and realizes he wants more than just a fling, he's not sure where his loyalties lie….
Julie climbed the ladder and balanced herself precariously at the top
With a screwdriver and a hammer she tried to pry one of the ceiling tiles loose, but they’d been up there for almost a hundred years and they weren’t coming down easily. Finally she managed to get the hammer’s claw wedged under one corner. She pried with all her strength, but got nowhere.
The front door opened and a shaft of sunlight cut through the bar’s dusty interior. A man stepped inside, silhouetted in the doorway. Julie recognized Tony’s broad shoulders, his muscular chest, his dominating presence. She took a deep breath.
She started to say something—and then everything happened at once. With an earsplitting noise, the tin panel above her pulled partly free. Julie clawed at the air as she lost her balance, startled by the falling panel. She braced herself, wondering what kind of injuries she’d sustain when she landed.
But she didn’t hit the floor. Instead, she fell into a strong pair of arms as perfectly and neatly as if she’d dropped into a hammock. It took her a few moments to realize she was okay.
“What are you doing here?” she asked inanely.
“Is that any way to greet a man who just saved your life?”
Dear Reader,
In the first FIREHOUSE 59 book I introduced readers to Brady’s Tavern, a slightly unsavory bar across the street from the station. In Her Perfect Hero, my heroine, Julie, takes over Brady’s. The fun starts when the firefighters get wind of her plans to give their favorite hangout an extreme makeover, and Tony gets caught in the cross fire.
I tried my best to bring Oak Cliff neighborhood to life. It’s a place I love because it’s my home, too. And although Brady’s is fictional, I incorporated a lot of real places into the story. As for Tony, he’s fictional—I only wish he were real. I hope you’ll love him as much as I do as he struggles with his divided loyalties.
Happy reading,
Her Perfect Hero
Her Perfect Hero
Kara Lennox
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Texas native Kara Lennox has earned her living at various times as an art director, typesetter, textbook editor and reporter. She’s worked in a boutique, a health club and an ad agency. She’s been an antiques dealer and even a blackjack dealer. But no work has made her happier than writing romance novels. She has written more than fifty books.
When not writing, Kara indulges in an ever-changing array of hobbies. Her latest passions are bird-watching and long-distance bicycling. She loves to hear from readers; you can visit her Web page at www.karalennox.com (http://www.karalennox.com).
Books by Kara Lennox
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
974—FORTUNE’S TWINS
990—THE MILLIONAIRE NEXT DOOR
1052—THE FORGOTTEN COWBOY
1068—HOMETOWN HONEY * (#litres_trial_promo)
1081—DOWNTOWN DEBUTANTE * (#litres_trial_promo)
1093—OUT OF TOWN BRIDE * (#litres_trial_promo)
1146—THE FAMILY RESCUE ** (#litres_trial_promo)
In memory of my uncle, Captain Henry “Pearly” Gates, who was a Dallas firefighter for many, many years.
Contents
Chapter One (#u8fed6892-799d-5c37-9b7d-7f5d68acf0b9)
Chapter Two (#u48738bb9-ea3a-569f-ad53-3bd3d56d3302)
Chapter Three (#u1170fb9c-d5c5-5173-b4f7-8ef0877ee6a7)
Chapter Four (#u24fb77d2-b0e5-5c67-a4e9-0808c4f0f74d)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Tony Veracruz climbed off Engine 59 pumped full of adrenaline for which there was no outlet. Around midafternoon his crew had been called to a house fire in South Dallas. But by the time they’d arrived another company had had the small blaze under control and there’d really been nothing for him to do.
Back at the station, he halted traffic on busy Jefferson Street so Lt. McCrae could back the engine into the apparatus room. He willed the alarm to buzz again, but annoyingly it remained silent.
For the past ten or so hours in the August heat he’d gone on one call after another, including the rescue of a kid stuck in a drainage ditch. All of which had, thank God, distracted him from thoughts of Daralee.
Now, with nothing to keep his brain occupied, he could think of nothing else. He wished he could banish her from his head. She was finished with him, and nothing he could do would bring her back. For the past week, ever since their breakup, the only thing that could wipe her from his mind was the sound of that alarm.
As he followed the engine into its bay and prepared to close the door, movement across the street caught his eye.
“Hey, Ethan,” he called to his fellow firefighter and lifelong best friend. “The lights are on at Brady’s.”
His announcement got the attention of everyone within earshot. The guys who’d been on the engine joined him in the open doorway to gaze at the illuminated beer signs in the front window of Brady’s Tavern. The signs had been dark for the past two weeks, ever since Brady Keller, third-generation owner of the best bar in Dallas’s Oak Cliff neighborhood, had died peacefully in his sleep.
“Maybe it’s opening back up,” Ethan said.
Tony shrugged. “We can only hope.”
Oak Cliff had once been its own town, but Dallas had swallowed it up more than a hundred years earlier. It comprised a large area across the Trinity River from downtown and came with a diverse population and plenty of character. Those who lived and worked there tended to think of themselves as different—outside the mainstream—from other Dallasites. In turn, Dallas proper didn’t think all that much of Oak Cliff.
Brady’s was an Oak Cliff institution, and Tony had frequented the bar since he’d acquired his first fake ID at age seventeen. Located just across the street from the fire station, it was a favorite hangout for cops and firefighters.
And good ole Brady Keller had been as familiar a fixture as his tavern’s sticky wood floors and antique shuffleboard table. He’d always been there, ready to listen, commiserate and even serve up an occasional beer on the house, provided your tale of woe was sad enough. Whenever Tony broke up with a girl—which happened with alarming frequency—he’d headed straight for Brady’s, where he could distract himself with a game of pool, a sporting event on TV and a cold one. Until the bar had closed its doors.
Fire Station 59 had gone into mourning at the news of Brady’s death, especially when the For Sale sign had gone up.
“Did you see who’s inside?” Ethan asked.
“I think I can see someone moving around,” said Priscilla Garner, another of Tony’s good friends. She, Ethan and Tony had gone through firefighter training together. Now they all lived on the same block, worked the same shifts and watched each other’s backs.As the three greenest rookies, they took a lot of grief from the veterans. “Maybe someone bought the place.”
“I saw who went inside,” said Otis Granger, who’d had a stool with his name on it at the bar. Otis hadn’t gone on the last call. “Two girls, and they didn’t look like bar owners to me.”
“Girls?” Tony’s interest immediately picked up.
“Well, women, if you want to be politically correct,” Otis explained. “But one of them was a teenager, I think.”
They were all hoping someone would buy the place and open it up just as it had been. Brady’s business had fallen off some in recent years as newer, trendier bars had opened in Oak Cliff, but none of his regular customers wanted to see the bar change.
“I think we should find out who they are,” Ethan said. “Brady must have family—someone to inherit. He talked about a sister.”
“Tony, go talk to them.” Priscilla gave him a little shove.
“Why me?”
“Duh…They’re female. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you have a certain effect on women.”
Otis and Ethan broke out laughing, but Tony didn’t. Whatever effect he had, it never lasted. His longest romantic relationship had ended after only a couple of months.
“Just go find out who those women are,” Priscilla urged. “They must be related to Brady somehow.Ask them what their plans are. Maybe you can impress on them how important it is to sell Brady’s to someone who’ll reopen it and keep things the same.”
“Ethan, why don’t you talk to them?” Tony argued. “You’re the great persuader around here.”
“Yeah, he managed to convince Kat to marry him,” Otis said drily. “Like she couldn’t have done a lot better.”
Ethan puffed out his chest, as he did at any mention of his beautiful new bride. They’d been married less than a month. “Okay, I’ll talk to the ladies.”
Just then, the door to Brady’s opened and one of the women emerged.
Even from a distance, Tony could see she was gorgeous—tall and sleek, with golden hair that blew in the breeze. She wore snug faded jeans that molded themselves to a body made for love and a clingy cropped shirt that showed off her trim waist and breasts that bounced slightly as she strode down the sidewalk.
She stopped in front of the For Sale sign attached to the front window, then reached behind the iron burglar bars and yanked on the paper until it came loose. She pulled it free and rolled it up, tucked it under her arm, then went back inside.
“Hold it,” Tony said. “Changed my mind. I’ll talk to her.”
“Uh-oh,” Priscilla said. “Watch out, Tony’s on the prowl.”
He gave Pris a disdainful look. “Daralee and I just broke up. You don’t honestly think I’m ready to get involved with someone else, do you?”
Tony’s fellow firefighters laughed so hard at this that Otis nearly fell onto the concrete floor and Ethan had to support himself against the truck.
“What? I can’t believe you’re laughing about my messed-up love life.”
“Messed up,” Ethan agreed, “until the next girl comes along. You’ve been mooning about Daralee for, what, a week?”
“We had a good thing going,” Tony said more to himself than Ethan. “I really thought…” He stopped. No time for regrets. That woman with the gold hair was undoubtedly the new owner of Brady’s, and someone needed to talk to her before she changed anything. “Cover for me if Captain Campeon notices I’m gone.” Without any further hesitation, Tony loped out of the station, darting between cars on busy Jefferson Street, toward the gorgeous goddess of a woman who—unknowingly—waited inside Brady’s to meet him.
Brady’s Tavern occupied a two-story building that must have been close to a hundred years old, and the brick looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned since coal stoves went out of vogue. A flock of pigeons had taken up residence under the eaves and the evidence of their frequent presence covered the cracked sidewalk.
The bar’s door wasn’t locked, so Tony pushed it open. A wall of hot, stuffy air, heavy with the scent of stale beer, slapped him in the face. “Hello? Anyone home?”
A teenage girl bounded up to him like an eager puppy. “Hi. Who’re you?”
“Tony. I work at the fire station across the street. Are you the new owner of Brady’s?”
She nodded. “Well, my mom is. This place is so cool. Do you play shuffleboard?”
“Not only do I play, I was the Brady’s Tavern shuffleboard champion two years running. Where’s your mom?” Surely the woman he’d seen removing the For Sale sign wasn’t this girl’s mother.
“My mom is Brady’s sister. Was. Whatever.”
“Then Brady was your uncle. It must have been tough losing him so unexpectedly. He was a great guy.”
“Not according to Mom. She said he was a drunkard black sheep who couldn’t be trusted with a dime.” The girl rocked back on her heels, apparently not realizing she’d insulted someone Tony had considered a friend. And her mother’s information was outdated. Brady had quit drinking twenty years ago.
“Could I speak to your mom?” He looked around the bar, which seemed strangely empty without the usual smattering of cops, firefighters and “siren sisters”—the female groupies who were turned on by any man who wore a badge or wielded a hose. But he didn’t see the blond woman.
“My mom is at work. But if it’s anything to do with Brady’s, you’ll want to talk to Julie.”
“Julie?”
“My sister.”
Ah. That made a whole lot more sense.
“She’s counting the glasses or something. Trying to decide what to keep and what to get rid of.”
