Billionaire on Fire (Firefighter Billionaire Stand-Alone Romance) by Lora Knightly Page B
Authors: Lora Knightly
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trust her somewhat in return to hand over his ID to a stranger. She looked at it. There was the man’s photo—an incredibly hot NYFD ID photo, when this guy had somewhat buzzed hair, and a deep tan. The muscles of his neck were apparent even in this stamp-sized photo.
“See,” the man said, “Name and address. I live right around the corner.”
Erica glanced at the other info, regrettably pulling her eyes away from the photo. “Duke?” she asked, reading the man’s name. “I didn’t know people were still named ‘Duke.’”
Duke took back his ID. “We’re a dying breed.”
“Well, right now,” Erica said, “I think I’m the one who’s dying.” She held out her hand for Duke to help her up.
Instead of helping Erica to her feet, a wide grin spread across Duke’s face. He ignored Erica’s hand and bent down to scoop her up like a child.
“Hey!” Erica cried, feeling the ground disappear beneath her. There was something frightening about being carried in general, but being carried by a stranger was especially alarming, even if he was a fireman. She was about to start screaming and fighting, already picturing a
real
rescue worker finding her murdered corpse the next day.
“Relax,” Duke said with a chuckle. He held Erica tight against him, and she felt the man’s warmth. “I’m a trained professional. I won’t drop you.”
And Erica believed that. This man’s arms were huge. He wasn’t about to drop Erica unless he wanted to. Her heart was beating like crazy, but for whatever reason she didn’t yell for help. She—trusted him? She knew it was crazy, but her intuition told her that he was being honest. That he was a good guy.
Suddenly they were moving. Duke was strong enough not only to carry Erica in his arms, but also to run at a trot at the same time. Erica guessed that the only reason he wasn’t running at full pace was to avoid the same kind of accident that Erica had encountered.
Gradually, as they rushed through the trees of the park, Erica’s fear turned into embarrassment as they started to pass people by. She must look like a helpless frilly damsel. She could only hope that no one she knew would see her like this. But at the same time, she couldn’t help feeling grateful to have run into this man. There was no way she would be able to make it through the park like this on her own. If Duke hadn’t come along, she would be sitting there for hours.
They came to the edge of the park in what felt like no time. The noise of the street became louder, and Erica felt it was easier to look up as she was being carried, and found herself easily distracted by the strong muscles of Duke’s neck, his intense expression under the shadow of the helmet, and the faint stubble on the underside of his chin. Erica had gotten some sun the past few weeks from running, but she was still fairly pale compared to Duke’s deep tan. And his arms—even his forearms were thick and outlined with muscle, and his biceps were about as big as Erica’s thigh. She noticed as they ran that Duke had a few swirling tattoos on his upper arms that disappeared under the sleeve of his shirt, and Erica had to stop herself from reaching out and lifting the fabric to see where those lines went to.
Duke’s boots pounded against the sidewalk, making Erica bounce. Her elbows were still stinging, but without having to walk, at least her ankle wasn’t bothering her. She sort of liked being held anyway, even if it was by a stranger. She figured, this is probably a part of the guy’s job training: rescuing people, and all that. This is probably everyday for him.
They walked about a block beyond the park and turned north rather than crossing another street. The smell of exhaust was in the air, and the warmth made the city feel sweaty. Erica was glad when Duke stopped outside a redbrick townhouse.
“Hold tight around my neck while I get out my keys,” Duke said, his rumbling chest reverberating into Erica.
Erica did as
“See,” the man said, “Name and address. I live right around the corner.”
Erica glanced at the other info, regrettably pulling her eyes away from the photo. “Duke?” she asked, reading the man’s name. “I didn’t know people were still named ‘Duke.’”
Duke took back his ID. “We’re a dying breed.”
“Well, right now,” Erica said, “I think I’m the one who’s dying.” She held out her hand for Duke to help her up.
Instead of helping Erica to her feet, a wide grin spread across Duke’s face. He ignored Erica’s hand and bent down to scoop her up like a child.
“Hey!” Erica cried, feeling the ground disappear beneath her. There was something frightening about being carried in general, but being carried by a stranger was especially alarming, even if he was a fireman. She was about to start screaming and fighting, already picturing a
real
rescue worker finding her murdered corpse the next day.
“Relax,” Duke said with a chuckle. He held Erica tight against him, and she felt the man’s warmth. “I’m a trained professional. I won’t drop you.”
And Erica believed that. This man’s arms were huge. He wasn’t about to drop Erica unless he wanted to. Her heart was beating like crazy, but for whatever reason she didn’t yell for help. She—trusted him? She knew it was crazy, but her intuition told her that he was being honest. That he was a good guy.
Suddenly they were moving. Duke was strong enough not only to carry Erica in his arms, but also to run at a trot at the same time. Erica guessed that the only reason he wasn’t running at full pace was to avoid the same kind of accident that Erica had encountered.
Gradually, as they rushed through the trees of the park, Erica’s fear turned into embarrassment as they started to pass people by. She must look like a helpless frilly damsel. She could only hope that no one she knew would see her like this. But at the same time, she couldn’t help feeling grateful to have run into this man. There was no way she would be able to make it through the park like this on her own. If Duke hadn’t come along, she would be sitting there for hours.
They came to the edge of the park in what felt like no time. The noise of the street became louder, and Erica felt it was easier to look up as she was being carried, and found herself easily distracted by the strong muscles of Duke’s neck, his intense expression under the shadow of the helmet, and the faint stubble on the underside of his chin. Erica had gotten some sun the past few weeks from running, but she was still fairly pale compared to Duke’s deep tan. And his arms—even his forearms were thick and outlined with muscle, and his biceps were about as big as Erica’s thigh. She noticed as they ran that Duke had a few swirling tattoos on his upper arms that disappeared under the sleeve of his shirt, and Erica had to stop herself from reaching out and lifting the fabric to see where those lines went to.
Duke’s boots pounded against the sidewalk, making Erica bounce. Her elbows were still stinging, but without having to walk, at least her ankle wasn’t bothering her. She sort of liked being held anyway, even if it was by a stranger. She figured, this is probably a part of the guy’s job training: rescuing people, and all that. This is probably everyday for him.
They walked about a block beyond the park and turned north rather than crossing another street. The smell of exhaust was in the air, and the warmth made the city feel sweaty. Erica was glad when Duke stopped outside a redbrick townhouse.
“Hold tight around my neck while I get out my keys,” Duke said, his rumbling chest reverberating into Erica.
Erica did as
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