Private Conversation Read online

  Private Conversation

  book 2 in the FIRST RESPONDERS series

  Jen Talty Talty

  Contents

  Private Conversation

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Books by Jen Talty

  About the Author

  Private Conversation

  book 2 in the FIRST RESPONDERS series

  JEN TALTY

  Copyright 2018 Jen Talty

  Cover Design Jen Talty

  Praise for Jen Talty

  "I positively loved In Two Weeks, and highly recommend it. The writing is wonderful, the story is fantastic, and the characters will keep you coming back for more. I can't wait to get my hands on future installments of the NYS Troopers series." Long and Short Reviews

  "In Two Weeks hooks the reader from page one. This is a fast paced story where the development of the romance grabs you emotionally and the suspense keeps you sitting on the edge of your chair. Great characters, great writing, and a believable plot that can be a warning to all of us." Desiree Holt, USA Today Bestseller

  "Dark Water delivers an engaging portrait of wounded hearts as the memorable characters take you on a healing journey of love. A mysterious death brings danger and intrigue into the drama, while sultry passions brew into a believable plot that melts the reader's heart. Jen Talty pens an entertaining romance that grips the heart as the colorful and dangerous story unfolds into a chilling ending." Night Owl Reviews

  "This is not the typical love story, nor is it the typical mystery. The characters are well rounded and interesting." You Gotta Read Reviews

  "Deadly Secrets is the best of romance and suspense in one hot read!" NYT Bestselling Author Jennifer Probst

  "A charming setting and a steamy couple heat up the pages in an suspenseful story I couldn't put down!" NY Times and USA today Bestselling Author Donna Grant

  "Murder in Paradise Bay is a fast-paced romantic thriller with plenty of twists and turns to keep you guessing until the end. You won't want to miss this one..." USA Today bestselling author Janice Maynard

  Thanks to the firemen who were kind enough to answer my crazy questions!

  Chapter One

  Gavin Nash massaged his right shoulder, fingering the ridges of the scar that started on his cheek, traveled down his neck, onto his arm, and across his side. It wasn’t a continuous scar, and it looked a hell of a lot better than it had three years ago, but it was still noticeable and every once in a while, the scorching deep under his skin flared to life.

  An unpredictable reminder of why he was still single.

  He clenched his left fist, opening and closing it. No matter how successful all the surgeries had been, the skin on his hand always felt like someone had pulled it too tight across his body.

  He bent over, letting his hands fall toward the ground before standing and leaning backward with his palms pressed on his lower back, tipping left, then right. He did this after every twenty-four shift while standing in front of his house in hopes his neighbor would step from her townhouse and greet him with a wave and a smile.

  That never happened, but he did it anyway.

  Making his way up the steps of the duplex, he tried not to peek into his sexy neighbor’s window. Talk about a woman out of his league.

  They’d been neighbors for less than a year and they’d had maybe six conversations that consisted of her asking him to climb a ladder, fix her smoke detector, change a flat tire, and maybe three random musings about the weather, or a news article, but only in passing.

  As he stuck his key into his door, right next to her office window, he caught a glimpse of his hot neighbor, Charlotte Harper.

  The name rolled across his mind like warm sunshine on a cool August day.

  She had gathered her long, dark hair into a tangled mess on top of her head. The curls slipped from the clasp holding it together, bouncing around her sweet face. Her laptop sat open on her desk, commanding her avid attention, while she nibbled at a pencil hanging from her plump-kissable lips, completely engrossed in whatever she was doing and totally unaware of his presence.

  Typical. Women only noticed his scars, and often not in a good way.

  But Charlotte didn’t notice anything about him at all.

  He once asked her what she did for a living and he only understood one thing from that conversation: she worked with computers and he’d never heard half the words that had tumbled out of her mouth, which kind of turned him on. Smart women were sexy as hell. Not to mention, how passionate she’d been when she explained her job to him. She obviously loved what she did, which was something he could relate to.

  He pushed open his door, closing it gently as if it would disturb her, which just made him laugh. He’d like to distract her, but she always seemed so busy with her work and barely gave him the time of day.

  He might not be good with the ladies, but he understood a kiss off when he saw it.

  After tossing his keys on the table by the door, he plopped down on the sofa, snagging his laptop. He opened up the internet browser and typed in the URL his buddy had given him for a local dating chatroom. His buddy had met his current girlfriend on the site, but Gavin had his doubts considering it seemed more like a hook-up app.

  He’d been a shy kid and to some extent, socially awkward as a teenager. That carried over into his adulthood, until his last girlfriend, who had been the hottest girl he’d ever met. It shocked him that she pursued him so hard.

  They she crushed him like a bug, leaving a deep emotional scar that was worse than any of the ones on his body.

  He never understood if Lydia had left him because his, “rugged good looks,” as she put it, had been so damaged, or if she just had never loved him in the first place.

  Knock! Knock!

  The rattle of knuckles against the wood made him jump. He glanced toward the front of the house and saw Charlotte standing on the porch.

  Closing his computer, he made his way across the room and pulled open the door.

  “Hey, Charlotte, what’s up?” He raised his arm, leaning against the doorjamb. He always tried to act relaxed and cool around her even though she tended to tie him up in knots.

  She held up a small package. “This came for you late yesterday and they needed someone to sign for it. I figure signing means it’s important?” A few stray strands of her dark hair fell from her messy bun, dangling on the side of her face. She glanced up with her dark eyes and puffed out her lips, blowing the locks away, only to land right back in the same spot.

  He had an urge to tuck them behind her ear, but he denied the desire burning a hole in his body. Taking the package from her delicate fingers, he smiled, hoping he didn’t look like a goof. “Thanks. I’ve been waiting for this.”

  “What are neighbors for.” She shrugged.

  He nodded. Small talk wasn’t something he was very good at. Get him on a subject he knew well and he might never shut up, but otherwise, he created long awkward pauses in conversations.

  She scrunched her face, wrinkling her nose as she nibbled on her fingernail, something she did every time she asked for a favor. “Can I borrow your microwave for a couple of minutes? Mine isn’t working.”

  He glanced over his shoulder trying to remember if he’d left his laptop open to the dating chatroom. “Sure, no problem.”

  She popped her finger out of her mouth and practically pranced on her tiptoes. “Let me just go get my bowl of fried rice.”

  “For breakfast?”

  “It’s got an
egg in it.”

  He stood back in the doorway, watching her scurry across the shared front porch, mentally scolding himself for checking out the way her ass filled out her yoga pants. His mother would smack him upside the head. His sisters, oh boy, they would go into a two-hour lecture about the injustices to women. He would agree his sisters were right on all accounts, but they took it just a little too far. Nice men, like himself, appreciated a woman’s body, respected it, and sometimes, it was impossible not to admire the plush, round curves.

  Her front door rattled and she appeared with a large bowl in one hand and a plastic bag in the other.

  He realized while he’d been in her house, she’d never been in his. “Same exact set-up, so you can go straight back to the kitchen.”

  “Thanks. Here.” She shoved the bag at him, not looking him in the eye. “Home baked cookies for your trouble.”

  “No trouble at all, but I won’t say no to cookies. Ever.”

  She smiled and took off toward the kitchen like a skittish cat on a double dose of caffeine.

  “Would you like me to take a look at your microwave?” He leaned against the counter on the other side of the galley kitchen, soaking in her slender, but strong figure. She had to be close to five-ten and he could picture her in a bathing suit at the beach playing volleyball.

  An image that would be forever sketched into his mind.

  “That’s sweet.” She glanced over her well defined, tanned shoulder. “I won’t say no to the offer.”

  He laughed. “Is the door unlocked?”

  She nodded, peering over her black rimmed glasses hugging the lower part of her nose. She looked like a cross between a sexy librarian and a tough executive guru. “This will only take another minute to heat up. I’ll be right over.”

  Tearing his eyes from the gorgeous woman dressing up his kitchen, he made his way over to her apartment. Once on the porch, he glanced down the street at the row of almost identical duplexes in the quiet neighborhood of mostly young professionals, newly married couples, or people just moving in together. He’d moved into this place when he’d been twenty-one, and he liked living alone, but at twenty-eight, he was getting tired of not having someone to share his life with.

  As he stepped across her threshold and into her kitchen, he considered asking her out on a date. How hard could it be? All he had to do was say, “Would you like t have dinner with me sometime?” He nearly burst out laughing at himself. His little fourteen-year-old cousin had more swagger than he did.

  He stood in the center of her kitchen staring at the lights flashing on her microwave and oven. The word error displayed on the control panel. He’d seen this before at his parents’ house where the appliances had just gone off-line and all he had to do was turn the fuse off and on. Easy enough to fix as he went to the fuse box located in the storage pantry near the backdoor. He quickly found the correct switch.

  “Wow, that’s great,” Charlotte said as she stepped into the kitchen.

  He closed the door, taking in a deep breath. This was it. He’d either have a date one night this week, or he’d crash and burn.

  “I can do that,” she said, holding the cell phone to the side of her head. “Sounds wonderful, consider it a date.”

  Crashed and burned before he even took off.

  “See you then.” She set her bowl and phone down, pointing to her microwave. “That error message is gone.”

  “If it happens again, you just need to trip the fuse. My parents have the same issue when they lose power.

  “Thanks.”

  He nodded. “I best be going. I’m beat from work and haven’t slept yet.”

  “And here, I thought my hours could be crazy, but I can’t imagine doing twenty-four hour shifts.”

  “You get used to it,” he said, taking a few steps toward the front of the house. “And I wouldn’t want to do anything else.”

  She curled her fingers over his biceps. “If no one has said it today, thank you for all that you do.”

  The air in his lungs released with a swish. People said stuff like that to him all the time and he never knew how to respond. His job was his world. Even after being burned and nearly dying, he couldn’t wait to get back. Being a firefighter wasn’t what he did, it was who he was.

  “You’re welcome,” he as humbly as he could.

  Once back in the comfort of his own home, he settled into his plush leather sofa, resting his computer on his lap, and stared at the dating website asking him for a screen name. He certainly wasn’t going to give his real name, but wasn’t sure what name he should call himself. He glanced at the list of users currently on the site, which ranged from your average every day name like Julia, Steve, or Ronny, to occupational names, to sexual innuendos.

  He’d avoid those.

  He typed in Firefighter, but then noticed there were other firemen online, but they all used a second name with it. His fingers hovered over the keyboard while he contemplated what he might want to give away about himself. He could use his first name, or his last name which could give his identity away. Lake George was a small community.

  Or he could use something silly like…

  Sexyfirefighter.

  Before he could think twice, he hit the enter button.

  Charlotte sat down at her desk, scanning the code she’d written early this morning, trying to shove Mr. Sexy Firefighter out of her thoughts, but that was impossible since his Ivory fresh scent lingered in the air, coating her senses like a warm blanket.

  Every time she saw him, she acted like a jumpy animal that raced around in circles chasing its tail. She half expected to stutter and stammer every time she opened her mouth, but instead she spoke so fast that when he looked at her, his face contorted as if he were listening to a foreign language or something.

  It didn’t matter. Based on their interaction, he’d never say yes to a date, not that she’d ask him for one, and even if she’d mustered up the courage, why deal with the humiliation of being shot down every time she saw him? She’d gotten enough of that in high school and college. Her mother used to tell her that being a genius would attract the finest of men. Ha! All it had done was intimidate the hell out of them.

  The one man that had found her intelligence and quirky shyness attractive ended up marrying her sister. A fact that was tossed in her face at every family gathering.

  Charlotte closed out her email after sending her boss the pages of code he’d requested. She opened up the browser to the dating site she’d found a little over a month ago. She told herself the only reason she went to the site was out of boredom and the chatter in the main room was highly entertaining. Better than daytime drama on television.

  Well, not really, but it was one way to pass the time.

  She had no idea why she’d googled dating sites, other than the last time she’d had male companionship, six months ago, it had ended with him telling her on the third date that he thought she was too uptight and introverted just because she didn’t want to go out and party every night. All she wanted was companionship. Someone to talk to, hang out with, maybe, over time, fall in love. She wanted someone who enjoyed watching movies, going for long walks, being out on the lake, and lounging at home with a bottle of wine in front of a fire.

  And one that didn’t have a wandering eye.

  She’d talked to three men on the site and they all had turned out to be whack jobs, only interested in sharing naked pictures, not actually getting to know one another.

  Or they wanted phone sex.

  The one who seemed open to chatting and possibly going on a date in the near future became needy in less than twenty-four hours, constantly begging for her attention and when she didn’t give it to him right away, he got nasty, only to apologize, begging for forgiveness, telling her how much he cared for her.

  That was exactly what she wasn’t looking for in a man.

  Ping.

  A private message came over. She clicked on the button and then rolled her eyes.
/>   Charlie: how are you today? I’ve missed you.

  “Can’t you take a hint?” she whispered.

  She quickly clicked block and deleted the message. She hated doing that, but Charlie wasn’t going to quietly go away.

  Bored, she scanned the names on the list that had common interests as her. Some of the screen names were amusing. Of course, she thought hers was brilliant: AngelaBennett, the name of the lead character played by Sandra Bullock in the movie The Net. But it also pretty much described the type of person she was and what she did for a living, so not much of a stretch.

  Thinking about her adorable neighbor, she typed fire into the search field and gasped when she saw someone by the name of Sexyfirefighter was on line.

  And he was a ninety-seven percent match based on profiles.

  What the hell? Why not?

  AngelaBennett: Hi

  Her heart pounded so fast it crushed her chest, making it hard to breathe. She leaned back, crossed her arms and stared at the blinking cursor after hitting send.

  Sexyfirefighter: Hi back. How are you?

  She couldn’t decide if it was cute that he didn’t use texting abbreviations, or if that meant he was older than dirt. She clicked on his profile, something she should have done beforehand, considering Crazy-Charlie.

  According to Sexyfirefighter’s stats, he was twenty-eight, almost twenty-nine. He didn’t fill in his name. Nor did he upload any profile pictures. Many people didn’t give out personal information until after they’d had a chance to talk with a potential match. She had used an image from the movie The Net. But so far no one seemed to get it.