Ready to Run (I Do, I Don't 1)

As though she was evaluating him for…something.

Blondie stopped in front of him, and the second her blue eyes locked on his, Luke felt a little jolt of attraction and was irrationally annoyed. It had been a long time since he’d been quite so aware of a woman.

Once, he’d enjoyed the feeling—sexual chemistry was almost the perfect combination of pain and pleasure. A subtle punch in the gut that you wanted to experience again and again.

These days, though, he was having a hard time getting past the pain part. The shitty parts had outweighed the good parts just one time too many. Now he mostly settled for casual hookups with a divorcée a few towns over who was even less interested in commitment than Luke was.

He had zero use for attraction to a pretty, bold woman in high heels.

Luke noticed that for a sheer moment she had a slightly off-balance look, as though she too had felt the annoying zip of arousal when their eyes met, but she recovered quickly.

Pasting a sunny, generic smile on her face, she stuck out her right hand. “Luke Elliott. I’m Jordan Carpenter. This is my colleague, Simon Nash.”

Good manners had him setting down his equipment and extending his own right hand toward hers even as his brain caught on her name. Familiar, and…

Shit. Shit!

He managed to stop from jerking his hand back, but just barely. Instead, he gritted his teeth, gave her hand a perfunctory shake, and then fixed her with a glare. “You’re wasting your time, Ms. Carpenter. And mine.”

Blue eyes narrowed. “Aha. So you did get my emails.”

Those. The voicemails. The letters.

“Sure,” he said with a nod, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Just like I suspect you got the message that I didn’t want to be a part of your show.”

Charlie looked from the woman to Luke and back again. “Show?”

Ryan ambled over, his shit-eating grin telling Luke that this damn woman had already spilled the beans on why she was here. “Luke’s gonna be a national heartthrob.”

“International,” said the blond guy in the purple shirt.

Jordan Carpenter didn’t look at her companion, but all three firefighters did.

The other man gave the sort of easy smile that probably had him making friends easily. Luke didn’t want a new friend.

Especially not one who wanted to use his shitty romantic past for the sake of TV ratings.

The fancy blond guy smiled. “CBC’s big time, and they’re putting all their resources behind Jilted. It’ll be in international markets.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” Luke grumbled sarcastically.

Jordan

hadn’t looked away from him. Not once. “There’s money. Not a lot to start, but enough.”

“Not interested.” He picked up one of the oxygen tanks to take it back to the truck. “Save your money.”

“You could give the money away,” she said, her voice stopping him. “You may not want or need it, but what about the firehouse? The school? Surely someone in your town could benefit from the check.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “Is this how they do things in New York? Using charity as a bargaining tool?”

She had the decency to flinch. “All I’m saying is hear me out. You’re saying no without knowing any of the details.”

“Someone want to tell me what’s going on?” Charlie asked.

Luke just shook his head and walked away. The kids’ interest in the dog had waned, their attention shifting to their teacher, who was promising snack time of apple slices and string cheese.

Millie caught Luke’s eye and directed the kids’ attention to him. “Okay, guys, let’s say thank you to Firefighter Elliott and Firefighter Bander!”