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was at work.
    Peering through the peephole, she said, “What the...?” Stepping back, she yanked open the door. “What the hell are you doing here?”
    “Sara...” Kirk sighed and relief tipped the corners of his mouth. “I was beginning to think I’d never find you.” He reached for her. She stepped back, away from him.
    “What the hell are you doing here?” she asked again, more forceful this time.
    “Looking for you.”
    Sara motioned him inside. “Did anybody see you? Recognize you?” That’d be disastrous. If anyone recognized Kirk, it would only a matter of time before Sara’s true identity came out. Once that happened, her quiet and solitude, as well as her budding relationship with Clay, was shot to hell.
    “What’s with you, Sara?” Kirk smiled, but his voice was shaky. “Since when have you ever cared what people think?”
    Sara slammed the door. “Since the Press won’t leave me alone.” She stomped back toward the living room.
    “Forget about the Press, Sara.” Kirk dropped to her side on the couch. “Come back to England with me.” He reached for her hands.
    “Are you nuts?” She yanked her hands back. “What makes you think I’d do something stupid like that?”
    “We never should’ve divorced, Sara.”
    Sara nodded. “Uh huh. I see what this is about.” She poked an accusatory finger at Kirk’s chest. “Roxanne dumped you.” She let out an exasperated sigh and pushed herself up from the couch. “Come on.” She waggled her hand at him. He took it and smiled, rising to stand beside her. “I am so not in the mood for this.” She led him to the door, opened it and glared at him.
    “Sara...” He shook his head. “We made a huge mistake.”
    “Boy, did we ever.” She nodded and pushed him outside. “We never should’ve gotten married in the first place,” she added, before slamming the door on him.
    It was an epiphany that had smacked her right in the face. Marrying Kirk Bronson was something that never should’ve happened.

CHAPTER 8
    L ast night Sara had shown Kirk to the door with no regrets. There was no place for him in her life now. There was only room for Fireside and Clay, and not necessarily in that order. She was going to tell Clay tonight, exactly who she was and what it’d mean if the Press found out she was here.
    As she drove herself to Clay’s house after work, she practiced her speech. “Clay, there’s something I have to tell you.”
    Yes, that was a good start.
    “Remember that ex-husband I was telling you about?” Sara coached herself. “Why, yes, Sara. Why do you keep bringing him up? Is this thing between you two not over?” Sara let out an exaggerated sigh. “God...Clay would never be that insecure.”
    Definitely not. Clay was far too full of himself to be threatened by another man.
    But what about a rock star? Could he feel threatened by a rock star?
    Sara was just going to have to make sure that he wasn’t.
    She pulled into Clay’s driveway, and parked next to the Fire and Rescue truck he drove. Sara got out of the car and went to the front door. It opened before she could knock. Clay pulled her inside, into his arms and planted a slow, smoldering kiss on her. “I thought you’d never get here,” he said, closing the door.
    “We have to talk,” she said, trying to project her seriousness onto him.
    “On an empty stomach?” he chuckled.
    “Look, I just need to tell you some things, and then, if you still want to, we can eat.”
    “Okay.” He tugged her into the living room and guided her down onto the couch. “Tell me what it is that you think is so important.”
    He was indulging her as if she were in a fragile state of mind, but she didn’t care. She was going to tell him her secret before somebody else did. “It’s who I was back in England.” She shook her head. “No matter what we do, it’s always going to be a dark cloud hanging over us.”
    “I don’t care who you were in England,” he said. “I only care