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A small ball of fire erupted from the stove's burners and ignited the paper bag that had been sitting on top.
"Fire," Blossom wailed, running from the room.
"Where's the fire extinguisher?" Glory shouted, frantically pawing through a pile of stuff on the counter. "Someone call 911."
"911!" Blossom shouted.
"I told you I didn't have a good feeling about this," Fern said, backing toward the door.
"911!" Blossom shouted even louder.
Something in the burning bag gave a small pop, as if it had exploded.
"On the phone, Blossom. Call 911 on the phone."
Glory snagged the small fire extinguisher and ran back to the counter as she pointed the hose. Nothing happened. "How the hell--"
"Glory, we don't approve of swearing," Myrtle said primly from her safely distant corner.
"Here let me," a male voice said, taking the extinguisher from Glory's hands and removing a little peg from the trigger. He deftly pointed the hose and extinguished the bag and its contents within moments. Her fireman turned, and Glory caught her first glimpse of him.
"Thank you," she managed, pleased any words escaped her rather constricted throat. Her rescuer wasn't just handsome. He was a hunk--a bone-rattling, heart-stopping, pulse-racing, palms-sweating hunk. Dark hair perfectly styled, a suit that had never known a rack, and a smile that probably had women falling all over themselves to do his bidding were just the beginnings of his hunkiness.
"You're welcome. I hope you weren't experimenting with dishes you plan to serve." The gleam in his dark eyes told her he was kidding. "I was looking forward to having the restaurant open. It will be convenient towork."
"You work around here?" Glory ventured.
"Well, my office is on State Street, but I'm at the courthouse so often that I might as well live here."
Damn. Though she was pretty sure she knew the answer, Glory asked, "You're an attorney?"
"Last time I checked." He shot her another thousand watt smile, but this time it did nothing for Glory. She knew that, first and foremost, attorneys were actors able to slap a smile in place as easily as other people slapped a fly. Their surface was all gloss and underneath hid a barracuda. Her divorce had been messy--very messy--and she blamed it on both attorneys turning every little decision into a battle, and her attorney-husband who was determined to draw blood.
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