Kara Lennox - Her Perfect Hero

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

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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.

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

974—FORTUNE’S TWINS

990—THE MILLIONAIRE NEXT DOOR

1052—THE FORGOTTEN COWBOY

1068—HOMETOWN HONEY *

1081—DOWNTOWN DEBUTANTE *

1093—OUT OF TOWN BRIDE *

1146—THE FAMILY RESCUE **

In memory of my uncle, Captain Henry “Pearly” Gates, who was a Dallas firefighter for many, many years.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

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.”