Kara Lennox - Her Perfect Hero

She mentally adjusted her picture of Belinda’s to reflect a tin ceiling—painted a pale yellow so as not to call attention to itself. It would be okay.

Then she realized something was on her foot—something alive. Immediately thinking termite, she started to kick until she realized it was a half-grown Dalmatian puppy gnawing on her shoelace.

“Excuse me,” she said, yanking her foot away, “have we met?”

Tony came down from the ladder. “This is Bluto. His mom is Daisy, the fire station mascot. I usually give him a walk on my days off.”

“They let you keep puppies at the fire station?”

“Only in a dog run in the back. And only temporarily. The pups had to go. Bluto is the last one.”

“So you brought him here?”

“I saw the lights on and thought I’d stop in and see how it’s going.” He looked around. “You still have a lot of work to do, I see.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you?” Her attention was torn between gorgeous Tony and his cute puppy, which wagged its tail so hard its entire body wiggled.

She couldn’t help it. She bent down to pet the pup, and it jumped all over, licking her face in a frenzy of love. Her parents hadn’t allowed any pets, seeing them simply as more mouths to feed. And once she was on her own, she’d never considered getting a dog or cat.

“Hi, Bluto.” It was much easier to be warm and friendly to the puppy than to Tony. Safer, too. She wasn’t normally unfriendly, but she knew she had to be on her guard with Tony for two reasons: he wanted something from her she couldn’t give, and she wanted something from him she didn’t dare ask for. If he had any idea how attracted she was to him, he could use it against her.

“So you live around here?” she asked.

“Just down Willomet. Less than a block.”

They were neighbors.

A noise above her yanked her attention away from the pup. She looked up just in time to see the ceiling panel she’d been working on detach itself completely and head straight for her.

Tony grabbed Julie and the dog and yanked them both out of the way. The heavy piece of tin, with its knife-sharp edges, crashed to the floor right where she’d been standing, leaving a gouge in the wooden planking.

Now she reacted. She’d almost died—twice in two minutes. Her knees went wobbly, and if Tony hadn’t put his arms around her, she’d have sunk to the floor.

“That’s twice I’ve saved your life,” he said, his voice husky.

For an insane moment, Julie thought he might kiss her. She’d fantasized about it often enough over the past couple of days. But then the moment passed, sanity reasserted itself and Tony released her, leaving her tingling.

Could a brush with death cause these peculiar feelings? She sure hoped she had an excuse for wanting to lose herself in a man’s touch when she was supposed to be concentrating on her tearoom.

With no small effort, Tony pulled himself out of the sensual fog that Julie had put him in. He’d felt so drawn to her, as if he wanted to kiss her. Thankfully he’d realized how inappropriate that would be and had let the woman go, taking a step back to put her out of temptation’s reach. This seduction had to be executed with care.

Ethan had said to make friends with Julie, get to know her. That wasn’t Tony’s normal approach. He usually liked to sweep a woman off her feet, flirt mercilessly, prove to her how strongly he was attracted to her. He’d always figured the friendship could come later, when the sexual pull wasn’t so overwhelming that it occupied all of his brain cells.

But so far that friendship part had eluded him. Yeah, he was friends with Priscilla and Ethan’s wife, Kat—and Natalie, the mother of his little girl. As far as his love life went, though, something always went wrong before he could become friends with a lover.

So maybe he would try being friends first. There was more than one way to seduce a woman, and he wouldn’t quit until he’d tried them all.

“Th-thank you,” Julie said, recovering some of the color in her face. “I do appreciate the life-saving maneuvers.”

“That’s what firefighters are for.” She looked amazing, standing there with her heaving breasts and her rosy cheeks, her golden hair mussed from shaking. She was trying to pretend that being so close to him hadn’t had much effect, but Tony knew better.

Then she pulled herself together, all business again. “As you pointed out, I have a ton of work to do. So if you’ll excuse me…”

“That’s why I’m here. I thought I could help.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Why would you offer to help when you hate the idea of my tearoom?”

He shrugged. “Never could resist a damsel in distress.” He looked around. “And you are in distress.”

He could tell she wanted to argue. But her need for an extra pair of hands and some elbow grease won out. “If you really want to help, the wooden Indian would make a good start. He’s covered with so much nicotine I can’t even tell what color he’s supposed to be.” Then she added, “But you won’t soften me up. I won’t change my mind about the tea-room. So if that’s your agenda…”

“Agenda? You’ve got to be kidding,” Tony said, his conscience pinching him a bit as he picked up a cleaning rag. At least if he helped her clean, he had an excuse to stick around and get to know her better. And she could get to know him. Once she thought it through, she’d realize what a great guy he was—saving her life, helping her scrub this place down—and she might be more willing to listen to his reasons for wanting to revive Brady’s Tavern.

Or he might just make love to her. Right now, that seemed a far more intriguing goal than changing her mind about keeping Brady’s intact.

“I’m not sure how Sir Edward will feel about taking a bath,” Tony said as he tackled decades of filth.

“Sir Edward?”

“The cigar man. He used to belong to an Englishman who owned a cigar shop down on Jefferson. When that gentleman fell on hard times he closed the shop—and he didn’t have enough money to pay off his bar tab. So Brady—that would have been the second Brady, your grandfather—took the Indian as payment.”

Tony watched Julie from the corner of his eye. She paused in her efforts to clean years of scum off one of the high round tables that dotted Brady’s. “Really? How interesting.”

She didn’t sound sarcastic, at least. So she enjoyed local history. That had to be a good thing for the campaign to save Brady’s.

“Are there more stories like that?”

“Dozens.” Tony gave up on the Indian and walked back to the bar. “Where’s the ashtray that was sitting here?”

“The big ugly one that possibly used to be brass?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t figure anyone would want it, so I threw it away.”

Tony clutched at his chest and pretended to gasp for air. “Threw it away?”

“Was it special?” She actually sounded concerned.

“It was the Daryl Jones memorial ashtray. Jones was a legendary fire chief, back in the days of prohibition. When he died, they took the old fire bell down and made an ashtray out of it. He and Brady—that would be your great-grandfather—were good friends.”

Julie winced. “And they made his bell into an ashtray? Isn’t that kind of disrespectful?”

“Since Jones was a chain-smoker, no. I can’t believe you threw it away. I’d have bought it from you. Any of the firefighters would have.”

Without a word, Julie disappeared into the back room. He heard her digging around and a minute or so later she emerged triumphantly with the ashtray in hand. “If you’ll help me clean, you can have the ashtray for free.”

“Deal.”

As they worked, Tony told her more stories. The billiard table had come from Dallas’s first bowling alley just before it was torn down. The dartboard had been a gift from a baseball player in the 1950s.

Tony showed Julie a bullet hole in the wall that was reputed to have been put there by the famous bank robber Clyde Barrow, of Bonnie and Clyde fame, when Brady’s had been a speakeasy.

Julie paused often to take notes.

“That popcorn machine behind the bar came from the Texas Theater down the street.”

“No kidding? Hey, they’ve renovated that theater, haven’t they?”

“Yeah, and it looks great.” Now he was getting somewhere. “Oak Cliff is renovating everything. People are really starting to appreciate the history of this area. Preserving rather than tearing down.” Hint, hint, Julie.

“That’s marvelous! I bet the theater owners would love to buy back this machine and display it there.”

Tony sighed. “What are you writing all these stories down for?”

“The auctioneer says that anything with historical significance will get a better price. So tell me more.”

Tony realized his efforts to convince Julie not to tear up Brady’s might actually be counterproductive. His stories made her even more inclined to parcel out all these wonderful old things.

Watching her as she scrubbed the filth off an old hurricane lamp—probably something left over from the days before the bar had electricity—he had a hard time remembering what his mission was. He just wanted to kiss her.

Still, he made one more try. “I understand your wanting to get money for all this stuff,” he said carefully. “But doesn’t sentimental value count for anything? Separately, you have some semivaluable collectibles. Together, you have a legend—your family’s legend at that. This is the place your great-grandfather opened a century ago. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

She looked stung by his harsh question, at first, and then she looked mad—and he knew he’d gone too far. She threw down her rag and marched over to him, getting right in his face.

“I’m sorry that you guys have lost your hangout. Truly I am. But I have to do what’s right for me and my family. My living family, not a bunch of dead guys. And even if you try to deny it, it’ll be good for the neighborhood, too.”

He started to say something, but she cut him off.

“I am not going to change my mind. What do I have to do to convince you?”

Bluto chose that moment to jump against Tony’s leg and yip.

“Maybe you should take him for that walk,” Julie suggested, her voice softening.

“Yeah, I’ll take him back to his mom. He’s looking for a good home, by the way.”

“That’s all I need—a dog to make my life complete. Why don’t you keep him?”

Tony laughed. “I already adopted one.” He hooked Bluto’s leash to his collar and the dog proceeded to drag him toward the door. “Goodbye, Julie. But I’ll be back.”

As he stepped out into the August heat, he acknowledged that this battle was going to be a lot harder than he’d first thought. But Julie wasn’t immune to him. She’d enjoyed the stories he told. Maybe, after she had time to think about it, she would change her mind. And if not…

He could at least get the word out about the auction. Every off-duty cop and firefighter in Oak Cliff would want to attend and grab a piece of Brady’s.

As Tony crossed the street, intending to return Bluto to his dog run behind Station 59, he realized he’d forgotten to take the Daryl Jones memorial ashtray.

JULIE HAD BEEN HOPING for a good crowd at the auction, but the mass of people crowding up to the bar to register and receive their bidding numbers exceeded all her expectations.

She’d done everything she could think of to publicize the auction, including the well-placed ads. She’d asked her auctioneer if she should have the sale at an auction house, but he’d discouraged her from that. The bar itself was plenty big enough. The location was easy to find and she would save the costs of renting a hall and transporting the goods. Plus, she would get some locals who would bid on items for sentimental reasons.