Saved By The Firefighter. Rachel Brimble
her gaze from Richard Crawley’s, her spine so rigid, she concentrated on not making any sudden movements for fear of it snapping clean in half. She smiled at Mr. Sanford, ignoring Crawley’s stare as it bored into her temple. “I’ve brought a few examples of my work along with some ideas for what I have in mind for the firefighters’ calendar. These are purely suggestions, so anything either of you don’t like, I’m more than happy to discuss and rethink with you. The guys at the fire station are happy for me to proceed as I see fit, so really it’s a case of whatever you and—” she faced Crawley “—and you, are happy to do.”
He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, his gaze on her photo examples. “I’m convinced whatever you have in mind will be great. I’m at your command.” He met her gaze. “Honestly. I’ve admired pretty much everything you’ve done from your shots of the Cove, land and seascapes, to celebrities, everything.”
Izzy’s shaky confidence itched for renewal under his seemingly genuine admiration. “I’m flattered. Thank you.”
“I mean it. I’m really looking forward to working with you. Maybe we could discuss the possibility of shooting the entire calendar in the Cove. What do you think?”
Surprised and pleased, Izzy steadfastly pushed away the notion that shooting in Templeton was borne from cowardice. “That would be great.”
The office door opened and the receptionist came in with their coffees. She laid the tray on the table in front of them. “Would there be anything else, Mr. Sanford?”
“No, that’s great. Thank you, Tiffany.”
She nodded and walked from the room, softly closing the door.
Izzy picked up her latte and took a sip. When she raised her eyes, she saw Crawley carefully watching her. She frowned. “Mr. Crawley?”
“Richard, please.” His gaze turned somber. “I was sorry to learn you recently lost your brother.”
The switch from her professional to personal life slammed Izzy’s defenses back into place. She cleared her throat. “Thank you. I miss Robbie every day, but I didn’t come here to talk about my brother.”
A faint blush stained Crawley’s cheeks and he briefly closed his eyes before opening them again. “I apologize.”
Swallowing hard, Izzy turned to Mr. Sanford. “I assume you’re happy if we decide to shoot the calendar entirely on location at Templeton?”
Mr. Sanford nodded, his gaze darting between Izzy and Crawley. “Of course. I’ll leave the order of things to you and Richard. In fact, why don’t we set up a meeting in the Cove as soon as possible? I understand Kate Harrington would ideally like the calendar to be shot by the middle of September so we have the finished product ready for sale at Christmas?”
Izzy nodded. “That’s right.”
Sanford looked to Crawley. “Your schedule is pretty free for the rest of the month. Would you be okay to spend a few days in Templeton next week? How about you, Miss Cooper? Would next week be okay with you?”
Izzy fought back her sudden panic. She could fit anything in at any time. She worked twelve-hour days whenever she needed to. More than that, this shoot was all for a little girl lying in a hospital bed, her parents praying for a miracle to save their daughter. If she, Richard Crawley and Templeton’s firefighters could play a part in making that miracle come true, next week would be perfect.
She nodded. “Absolutely.”
Sanford faced Richard Crawley. “Richard?”
His gaze met Izzy’s rather than his agent’s and she struggled not to fidget under the celebrity’s blatant study. He looked almost remorseful as he ran his gaze over her hair, lower to her eyes. He smiled warmly. “Next week would be great. It’s been too long since I’ve been to Templeton. Is there anywhere in particular you suggest I stay, Miss Cooper?”
Izzy softened. The guy looked genuinely sorry for mentioning Robbie and wanted them to start over. She smiled back. “Considering your celebrity status, I would recommend you stay at the Christie Hotel. It’s one of the best in Templeton and you can trust in their service and discretion.”
His shoulders relaxed beneath his smart black jacket and crisp white shirt. “The Christie it is, then.”
Mr. Sanford stood and Izzy turned to face him.
He held out his hand. “Well, that’s settled. I’ll be in touch as soon as we have Richard booked into the hotel so you’ll know when to expect him.”
“Great.” She shook his hand and then held her hand out to Richard Crawley. “I look forward to working with you.”
His gaze burned with a whisper of flirtation as his fingers curled around hers. “And I you.”
Cursing the sudden warmth at her cheeks, Izzy slid her hand from Crawley’s as Mr. Sanford held his hand out toward the door. Izzy gratefully walked toward it. As the agent reached for the door to open it, he stopped. “When I read about the explosion that killed your brother and was then approached by Ms. Harrington for Richard’s help, I was onboard immediately. I’m confident the extra emotion you’ll bring to the shoot will be invaluable.”
Izzy stilled. “The emotion?”
He flitted his gaze from her to Crawley, and back again. “What I mean to say is, we, Mr. Crawley and I, believe having a local photographer, shooting a local celebrity, will really reunite the community after such a devastating tragedy. It will bring people together, knowing even celebrities as big as—”
“It doesn’t take something like my brother’s death to bring Templeton together, Mr. Sanford. Everything brings us together. You and Mr. Crawley need to be absolutely clear on that. Otherwise the people of Templeton will think celebrities have zero morality when it comes to promotion and making money. It will be up to you and Mr. Crawley to prove differently.”
“I think you misunderstand—”
Richard Crawley raised his hand silencing his agent. “Miss Cooper, Francis doesn’t speak for me. I’ve admired you...your work...for a long time and very much look forward to working with you to help raise money for Maya Jackson. That desire has nothing to do with your loss. We apologize.”
Torn between Richard’s clear sincerity and his agent’s ignorance, Izzy drew in a strengthening breath before nodding. “Then I’ll wait for your call.”
She strode from the room, nodded at the receptionist and continued to walk to the glass front door. Holding her breath, she rounded the corner toward the taxi stand. She opened the passenger door of the cab in front and gratefully slid into the seat. “Templeton Cove, please. The photography studio on Nelson Street.”
He nodded and turned the ignition.
Izzy shifted back in her seat and sighed. The sooner she got home to the safety of the Cove, the better. City life crawled with leeches...some clearly more blood-sucking than others.
TRENT STROLLED OUT of the fire station, his body aching from cleaning and polishing the trucks all day. Thankfully, the shift had been entirely uneventful. No fires. No accidents. No cats stuck in trees. The Cove’s firefighters had enjoyed a day of peace, and now all he had planned for the night was to sit in front of the TV with a take-out dinner and a couple of beers.
He walked along the promenade lining Cowden Beach and smiled to see two teams of teenage lads playing a game of soccer on the sand, the goalposts made up of their discarded jackets. Trent wandered over to the iron railing and leaned his forearms on top to watch the boys play, remembering his own time doing the exact same thing in a park not too far from Templeton Cove.
As soon as he could afford it, he’d moved out of parents’ home, leaving them behind...along with the tortured memories