A Glimpse of Fire by Debbi Rawlins Read Free Book Online Page A

drunk.
    “Thanks.” She leaned against Eric as she glanced over her shoulder at the man, who’d already passed by—but not so his rank odor. “Sad, isn’t it?”
    The compassion in her eyes touched him, as misplaced as it was. He took another look at the guy, evidently homeless and drunk. “He needs a good meal instead of spending his money on booze.”
    “You don’t know his circumstances.” She pulled away. “He may have just lost his job or received some horrible news.”
    “You’re right.” He drew her back against him and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “I shouldn’t have said that. But there were a lot of steel mills where I grew up. I saw what happened to men who lost their jobs.”
    Looking away, she murmured, “Yeah, I’ve seen it, too.”
    That surprised him. What did she understand about that world? About the blue-collar laborer who was so readily sacrificed to improve the bottom line of a corporation’s financial statement? He understood. Too well. His brothers were fools for languishing in the mills, and settling for the same scraps their father had.
    He caught a glimpse of Central Park a couple of blocks away, along with the lineup of carriages and horses with their colorful hats. “I have an idea. How about a carriage ride?”
    “Are you serious?” She laughed softly. “Only tourists do that.”
    “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t we just eat in a touristy restaurant?”
    “Touché.”
    “Come on. Let’s pick out a horse.”
    She made a face. “We don’t have much time before it gets dark.”
    He smiled, his body thrumming with anticipation. “Sometimes interesting things happen in the dark.”

5
    B Y THE TIME THEY GOT TO THE fourth horse—wearing a straw hat with an orange band and large drooping yellow daisies—Dallas knew Penelope was the one for them. The chestnut-colored mare had sweet, soulful eyes and a soft neigh, and Dallas immediately bonded with her.
    She stroked her velvety head. “Penelope’s definitely the one.”
    “You’re sure now?”
    “Positive.” Glancing at Eric, she realized he was teasing her and she lightly punched him in the arm.
    “Okay.” He laughed. “Penelope it is.”
    He spoke to the driver a moment—an older man with drooping eyes and a face lined and brown as shoe leather—and then helped Dallas into the carriage. In seconds they were trotting into the park, the sound of Penelope’s clopping hooves on the asphalt stirring a wistfulness in Dallas.
    She sighed. “I haven’t ridden in ages. I used to ride every weekend when I was in high school.”
    “Where?”
    “At my grandparents’. They had a couple of Arabians and a palomino.”
    “Am I allowed to ask where?”
    She smiled. “In Connecticut.”
    He slid his arm around the back of the seat and she snuggled closer. “They have ranches in Connecticut?”
    “I didn’t say they owned a ranch.”
    “Just recreational stables.”
    “You ask too many questions.”
    “I believe that was a statement.”
    She just shook her head. He chuckled, and then they rode in silence for a while, enjoying the slight breeze produced by the movement of the carriage.
    Ironically, more and more questions about him paraded through her head. Based on what Tom had told her, she’d figured she knew exactly who Eric was. The Rolex around his wrist, the Gucci shoes, the designer clothes—all accessories of an image-conscious social climber—confirmed her belief.
    Eric was exactly the kind of man her parents wished she’d bring home. He was precisely the type she never would.
    But his comments about the steel mill usurped her logic. Made her wonder about his link to the other side of the coin. Not just because he had lived in an industrial city like Pittsburgh. A variety of jobs existed there just as in any other city. But there had been something personal in his voice, a tinge of bitterness that came from firsthand experience.
    “See? Playing tourist isn’t so bad, is it?” he