Night Smoke by Nora Roberts Page A

something like this?”
    “Mmm …” She examined the piece herself. Silk, seed pearls at the bodice. “Probably about one-fifty.”
    “One hundred and fifty? Dollars?” He shook his head in disgust. “One good tug and it’s a rag.”
    Instantly she bristled. “Our merchandise is top-quality. It will certainly hold up to normal wear.”
    “Honey, a little number like this isn’t designed for normal.” He cocked a brow. “Looks about your size.”
    “You keep dreaming, Piasecki.” She tossed her coat over the love seat. “The point of good lingerie is style, texture. The sheen of silk, the foam of lace. Ours is designed to make a woman feel attractive and good about herself—pampered.”
    “I thought the idea was to make a man beg.”
    “That couldn’t hurt,” she tossed back. “Look around, if you like. I’m going to run upstairs and check a couple of invoices while I’m here. It won’t take me more than five minutes.”
    “I’ll come with you. Offices upstairs?” he asked as they started toward a white floating staircase.
    “Just the manager’s. We’ll have more merchandise up there, and changing rooms. We’ve also set up a separate area for brides. Specialized wedding-dress undergarments, honeymoon lingerie. Once we’re fully operational—”
    She broke off when he grabbed her arm. “Quiet.”
    “What—?”
    “Quiet,” he said again. He didn’t hear it. Not yet. But he could smell it. Just the faintest sting in the air. “Do you have extinguishers in here?”
    “Of course. In the storeroom, up in the office.” She tugged at his hand. “What is this? Are you going to try to cite me for fire-code violations?”
    “Get outside.”
    With her gaping after him, he darted toward the back of the store.
    She was organized, he had to admit. He found the fire extinguisher, up to code, in full view in the crowded storeroom.
    “What are you doing with that?” she demanded when he came back.
    “I said get outside. You’ve got a fire.”
    “A—” He was halfway up the steps before she unfroze and raced after him. “That’s impossible. How do you know? There’s nothing—”
    “Gas,” he snapped out. “Smoke.”
    She started to tell him he was imagining things. But she smelled it now. “Ry …”
    He cursed and kicked aside a streamer of papers and matches. It hadn’t caught yet, but he saw where they were leading. The glossy white door was closed, and smoke was creeping sulkily under it.
    He felt the door, and the heat pushing against it. His head whipped toward hers, the eyes cold. “Get out,” he said again. “Call it in.”
    A scream strangled in her throat as he kicked the door open. Fire leapt out. Ry walked into it.

Chapter 5
    It was like a dream. A nightmare. Standing there, frozen, while flame licked at the door frame and Ry stepped in to meet it. In the instant he disappeared into smoke and fire, her heart seemed to stop, its beat simply ceasing. Then the panic that had halted it whipped it to racing. Her head buzzed with the echo of a hundred pulses as she dashed to the door after him.
    She could see him, smothering the fire that sprinted across the floor and ate merrily at the base of the walls. Smoke billowed around him, seared her eyes, burned her lungs. Like some warrior, he challenged it, fought it down. In horror, she saw it strike back and lick slyly at his arm.
    Now she did scream, leaping in to pound at the smoke that puffed from his back. He whirled to face her, furious to find her there.
    “You’re on fire.” She barely choked the words out. “For God’s sake, Ry! Let it go.”
    “Stay back.”
    With an arching movement, he smothered the flames that had begun to lap at the central desk. The paperwork left on its top, he knew, would feed the fire. Focused, he turned to attack the smoldering baseboard, the intricately carved trim that was flaming.
    “Take this.” He shoved the extinguisher into her hands. The main fire was out, and the smaller ones