Playing With Fire (Five Senses Series) by Brocato Gemma

Author:Brocato, Gemma [Brocato, Gemma]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Gemma Brocato
Published: 2015-11-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

By Friday, Cris had gotten under her skin. Her infatuation with him had sprouted roots in all of her senses. The smell of eggs cooking in the skillet reminded her of the hasty breakfast-for-dinner meal she’d fixed him before he’d left to pick up Kit after they’d made love the other night. He’d laughed and teased her when he’d opened her broom closet to throw something away and discovered her 2010 Men of the Boston FD calendar. The look on his face was priceless when she told him she was going to paste his picture over Mr. February’s body.

The sweet pumpkin and cinnamon aroma from the bowl of scent beads on Molly’s desk brought back memories of his call two nights ago. Because of his responsibilities to his son, he couldn’t come over, and she wouldn’t risk Kit discovering her in his dad’s bed. She’d lit aromatic candles in her bedroom and indulged in some very awesome phone sex with him. After, they’d talked until she’d fallen asleep.

The color of the sky this morning, the unusual gray-green that promised some kind of weather, was the exact shade of Cris’s eyes when he smiled.

Sarah hugged a clipboard to her chest as she made her way through the school hallways to the theater department. She needed to do an inventory on the props to make sure they had everything they needed for the performances. Opening night was next Thursday, and it was crunch time. She’d cleared her schedule for thirty minutes at the end of the school day to take care of this task. Rehearsal would start soon, and she needed to get this done.

The auditorium was darkened, but she could see light glimmering under the curtain on the stage. Her footfalls were muted on the carpet as she made her way to the steps. Quiet enough for her to hear thuds, banging, and muttered profanity as she approached.

Unsure why her oh-shit-something’s-wrong sense pinged like a pinball, she gripped the clipboard tighter and tiptoed up the steps. She crossed quietly to the curtain hanging stage left. The heavy velvet crushed under her fingers when she grasped it to pull it to the side. Whoever was on the opposite side was not trying to remain quiet.

“What are you doing?” Sarah exclaimed when she discovered Mary Sherman, looking disheveled and dusty.

“I’m moving spotlights where they belong.”

Reaching for her Sharpie from under the metal clip, Sarah challenged the former director. “Why?”

“Because they are in the wrong positions. Who came in and messed around with these? This will not do at all for the blocking I’d planned.” The woman’s tone crackled with impatience.

“Mary, you resigned as director. When I took over, I changed things to a more modern staging.” Pop—click—pop. Disgruntled, Sarah paused the soothing motion and shoved the pen into the pocket of her khakis. Mary swung one of the lights to the side. Alarm spread through Sarah as the cord pulled taut. “Mary! Stop! You shouldn’t be moving those around. The electrician just finished repairing them, and they’ve passed inspection.

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