Free Heating Up by Stacy Finz

I’ve never been faced with this sort of thing before.” The most famous person Dana had ever sold a house to in Tahoe was a Sacramento anchorwoman for one of the local network affiliates. In Nugget, none of her clients had been famous. “I’ll have to talk to my agency’s broker. I don’t think it’ll be a problem, but I’d like to check first.”
    â€œI appreciate that.”
    â€œIn the meantime, I’ll pull several listings to send you. Uh, you do realize that at the close of escrow anything you buy becomes public record?”
    â€œYes. I’ll be buying as a corporation,” she said. “Shall we talk tomorrow, then?”
    While the call wouldn’t have been peculiar in Los Angeles, here in Nugget it was downright strange, leaving Dana beyond intrigued. “Absolutely.”
    What her mysterious client didn’t know was that Dana could sign all the nondisclosure forms in the world, but as soon as one of the townsfolk spied a famous person in Nugget, word would spread faster than a New York minute.

Chapter 5
    W hen Aidan got home on Tuesday he went straight from the firehouse to his new home. He hadn’t had a chance to call Dana to make sure everything had gone well with the movers. In fact, he’d barely had time to breathe. North of Susanville, two morons—brothers—had set their farmhouse on fire, hoping to collect the insurance money.
    The old place had gone up like a bonfire. The flames spread, burning four hundred acres of forest and ranchland, destroying six structures, and injuring three firefighters. After an extensive investigation, the police hauled the brothers in and locked them up on arson charges. Dingbats, the both of them. They were just lucky no one had died.
    The driveway was empty, so Aidan pulled his Expedition in and got out into the blazing heat. It had to be at least one hundred degrees today. The first thing he planned to do on his days off was get a portable air conditioner for the house. Unpacking could wait.
    He unlocked the door, stepped into the living room, and staggered back. The whole room had been arranged, including his pictures. The walls had been painted a pale gray that matched the dark gray sectional and the blue zebra rug. She’d hung some kind of fabric shades that scrunched up over the windows. Sue had picked out the furniture, but he had to say Dana seemed to have a better knack for putting it all together. Before leaving for Chicago, he’d suggested that Sue take everything. She’d declined, saying she wanted to start from scratch with her new man—the one she was marrying this weekend.
    He popped his head in the kitchen, which had been freshly painted, and someone had stenciled a rooster and the word “Bistro,” on the wall next to the table, which had been set with colorful placemats—not his. The house had gone from plain Jane to stylish in four days. He’d give it to Dana; she got shit done. It looked like all his kitchen stuff had been unpacked.
    His bedroom was also arranged, the bed made, and some of his clothes hung in the closet. Boxes filled with his winter clothes, underwear, and sports equipment had been stacked along the wall. He’d have them unpacked in no time.
    In the bathroom, she’d hung a new shower curtain. Something neutral, not too girlie, which he appreciated. She’d made two stacks of towels. He knew which stack was his because she’d fastened little chalkboard signs to the shelf with their names. Just like grammar school.
    He went back in the kitchen and stuck his head in the refrigerator. The bottom shelves were packed with food. His shelves were bare. Well, he couldn’t expect her to shop for him too. Out of curiosity, he checked the pantry. Again, the bottom shelves were well stocked, and she’d filled the top shelves with Calloway candy. There had to be at least a dozen different kinds. He stuck the chocolates in the