Free Fan The Flames (Man Of The Month Book 3) by Michele Dunaway Page A

after she asked.
    City Hall had opened in 1904, and the front of the Renaissance-revival-style building was all lit up. Purple, green and orange lights cast a festive glow on the massive building. Scarlett had been here only once before—to get a marriage license. After dark, the place transformed like one of those Night at the Museum movies, just without the animals and talking statues. The harsh fluorescent lighting was gone—those same colorful lights from outside infused through open space and created patterns on the marble floor. Festive banners draped down pillars. Masks hung suspended in the air. Waiters worked behind strategically placed bars.
    People lingered on all floors, with the VIP tables on the second and third floors. Some revelers wore colorful masks complete with feathers and sequins that clearly they’d bought themselves, while others didn’t wear even the free masks being handed out. Dresses varied from short to long, with the majority like hers, Scarlett saw with great relief. In fact, it seemed as if almost anything festive was appropriate; some partygoers were even dressed in festive Mardi Gras costumes. As for the men, most were in formal tuxes, although some had opted for brightly colored bow ties in keeping with the Mardi Gras theme. Others wore vests that might be found on a court jester, and many, like Brad, simply wore black tie.
    Although, none wore it as well as he did, Scarlett thought as they checked their overcoats. “Wait a minute.” Brad drew her to a quiet corner and took the corsage out of the box and placed it on her left wrist. His fingers caressed her wrist and fire spread. “Like it?”
    Her mouth had dried, but she got the words out. “I do. Thank you.” The hand that held the empty box trembled, and Brad took it from her. He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
    “Yes.” They strode across the rotunda floor. He might not be a politician or one of St. Louis’s rich elite, but men nodded in greeting. Women smiled appreciatively and gave him long sideways glances. Probably thinking of his exposed torso in the calendar, Scarlett thought. Not that she blamed them. Already, at times, glimmers of interest flickered in her brain—until she uncomfortably shoved them aside. First, it seemed almost like a betrayal of Todd, although she knew that being a widow didn’t mean she was dead too. Yet, she didn’t grieve like she had in the beginning. The hurt had faded—and for that she felt guilty. Todd had never made her quiver the way a few innocent touches from Brad had. The sizzle from his every contact burned its way through her and she resisted the urge to rub her wrist where it still tingled.
    “What do you want to drink?” Brad asked as they queued up at the bar. Nearby a juggler entertained a small crowd. Down the way, a mime pretended he was stuck in a box.
    She paused. How long had it been since she’d been out? At least two years. Maybe three. That was probably the last time she’d had alcohol, too. Single moms were more likely to curl up with the kids and drink chocolate milk. “I’ll take white wine.”
    He took her hand and studied the corsage, sending the butterflies in her stomach into flight. “Who knew those colors would work so well? I’ll be right back.”
    Brad headed for the bar and Scarlett worked to calm her nerves. A woman dressed as a harlequin came by and draped a multicolored boa over Scarlett’s shoulders. She toyed with the feathers, trying to make sense of how Brad made her body react. She wasn’t a giggly young girl. But as he returned her heart jumped. He turned to hand her a short, plastic wineglass. In his hand, he held a red aluminum Budweiser bottle. He used it to point to the boa. “Where’d you get that?”
    She shrugged. The woman was long gone, off to spread the Mardi Gras cheer. “We’re up on the third floor. The calendar committee actually reserved some tables for us,” Brad told her.
    “I guess the view’s better.”
    He