
Feisty Firefighters Bundle
Aftershock
The Firefighter's Baby
Facing the Fire
Table of Contents
The Firefighter's Baby By Alison Roberts
Contents
1
THE PLACE wasn't what she expected. Though she was alone, Amber Riggs kept her features carefully schooled so that nothing in her cool, serene expression reflected dismay. Control was everything. A deal couldn't be made to the best advantage without it, and she did love a good deal.
She got out of her car without checking her makeup or hair. She didn't need to. It wasn't vanity that told her she looked crisp and businesslike. It was just fact. Her careful facade was purposely created with clothes and makeup so that people took her seriously.
If she were vain, she'd still be basking in the glow from the write-up she'd received in this morning's paper: "A go-get-'em real estate manager." "Best in San Diego county." "No one gets the better of Amber Riggs."
Great for business, but the praise meant little. Amber loved her work, and because she did, she didn't need anyone's approval.
That's what she told herself.
She looked at the deserted warehouse in front of her and frowned. As good at her job as she was, making money from this building would be like bleeding a turnip. It was too far out of town.
Still, stranger things had been known to happen. At least the owner hadn't cared whether she found a buyer or a renter, and that would give her some options.
Her heels clicked noisily on the rough asphalt as she moved closer. The place was two stories and mostly brick, which gave it definite character. That was good. So was the basement that held the offices. She had to sigh as she noted the deterioration of the roof and the decay of the old brick walls. That wasn't good. And no windows, which meant that the client she'd contacted this morning, the one who wanted to convert an older building into an antique mall, wouldn't be happy.
She could fix that, Amber decided, by going inside and finding something interesting. Something that would appeal. This was her forte, turning the negative into the positive. Her fat bank account could attest to that. For a girl who'd left home exceptionally early with nothing but the shirt on her back, she'd done okay.
She took the key out of her purse and let herself in. Darkness prevailed, but always prepared, she again reached into her purse for the small flashlight she kept there. As she flipped it on and moved past the reception area into the even darker open warehouse, the silence settled on her shoulders eerily. She swallowed hard, losing a fraction of her iron-clad control.
The dark was not her friend. It was an old fear, from childhood, where she'd spent far too much time alone, afraid. Unwanted.
Dammit, not the self-pity again. She was twenty-seven years old. Maudlin thoughts about her past were unacceptable, and she promptly pushed them aside. Her flashlight shimmered, cutting a path across the huge empty place. The beam hardly made a dent in the absolute blackness, and more of her control slipped. Her palms became damp.
Determinedly, she lifted her chin, letting her logic and famed concentration take over. She was a grown-up. Yes, she was alone, but she wasn't leaving until she'd scoped out the place carefully. She needed something to lure her potential client.
She wanted the deal.
She made it three quarters of the way across the place when she came to a door. Stairs, leading down. Good, the offices there would be a good selling point. Swallowing her discomfort around the intense, inky blackness, she bravely wielded her flashlight and went down the stairs, entering another large and even darker room.
A damp, musty smell greeted her.
An unnatural silence beat down, so did a terrible, heavy foreboding. In the strange stillness, Amber's every nerve ending froze, rendering her incapable of movement.
In the distance, she thought she heard a male voice call out, but that couldn't be, she was alone.
Always alone.
Suddenly a sound like savage thunder ripped through the room, and Amber decided to hell with control. To hell with the deal.
She wanted out.
That's when the earthquake hit.
The unexpected violent pitch and roll of the ground beneath her threw her to the floor, hard. The earth came alive like some monster clawing its way out of hibernation.
Time ceased to exist.
The earth moaned and rocked. As she slid across the cold, concrete floor, her ears rang with the deafening sound. Her skin crawled with horror.
Then she slammed into an unforgiving wall.
Stars exploded into the darkness.
And the last thing Amber heard was her own terrified, piercing scream.
DAX MCCALL loved driving. Loved the freedom of the wind ripping through his hair, the scent of autumn as the trees turned. Loved the eye-squinting azure sky.
Hell, he was feeling generous, he simply loved life.
The tune-up he'd done on his truck the night before had it running smoothly, and he took the time to enjoy the way it handled the unpredictable mountain roads of Point Glen.
He couldn't have asked for a better day. Mother Nature loved Southern California, specifically San Diego county, and though it was nearly November, the breeze blew warm. Not a cloud marred the brilliant sky. And thanks to the Santa Ana winds, smog was nonexistent, leaving the air unusually clean and pure.
Sunday. His first day off in weeks. Not that he was complaining, he thought, cranking up the rock 'n' roll blaring from the stereo. He loved his job, and knew he was the best damn fire inspector this county had ever seen. But the hours were ruthless, and ambitious as he was, even he needed brain-rest once in awhile.
The last few fires had really taken their toll. He'd just closed an arson case that had spanned two years and caused five deaths. Sometimes at night Dax would close his eyes and see the charred bodies. Worse, he could still see the expression on the family's faces when he'd questioned them. Horror. Pain. Accusation. Sorrow.
Yeah, he needed a day off. Maybe even a vacation. He thought about the wildfires raging out of control in Montana. He could take some time and go help fight them. Not what most would consider a vacation, but in his heart, Dax was first and foremost a firefighter. When he'd turned investigator, he'd never given up his love of fighting fires. Every chance he got, he went back to it.
A shrill ring shattered the peace. Damn. Dax turned down the music and answered his cell phone with all the enthusiasm of a child facing bedtime.
"Better be good," he warned, slowing his truck on the narrow two-lane highway as he came into a hairpin turn.
"Some greeting."
Shelley, the oldest of his five nosy, overbearing, sentimental, affectionate sisters, had only one reason for calling.
"The answer is no," Dax said.
Undeterred, she laughed. "Dax, honey, you don't even know what I want."
"Oh, yes, I do." But he had to smile because he loved her. He loved all his sisters, even if they drove him crazy. "It just involves a teensy, weensy favor, right? Just a teensy, weensy desperate favor---for a friend?"
"She's not desperate."
Yeah, right. "We've discussed this, remember? No more setting me up." He'd told each of his well-meaning, meddling, older sisters that he refused to go out on any more blind dates.
So he was thirty-two and not married, it didn't bother him any. It wasn't as if he hurt for female companionship. But still, his sisters hounded him with friends. And friends of friends. And sisters of friends of friends.
He'd put his foot down long ago, but in their eyes he was still the baby of the family. A six-foot-two-inch, one-hundred-and-eighty pounder with the physique of a man who'd been a firefighter for nearly ten years before he'd become inspector.
Some baby.
"I've got to go, Shel," he said, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder as he maneuvered the winding road.
"No, you don't. You just don't want me to bug you. Come on, Dax, your last date looked like a twenty-something Dolly Parton and spoke in that stupid whisper no one could understand."
He felt only mildly defensive. Why dispute the truth? So he was partial to blondes. Buxom blondes. Buxom, bubbly blondes, and last he'd checked, there wasn't a law against that. "Hey, I don't bug you about your dates."
"That's because I'm married!"
"You know what? I've got to go." He simulated the sound of static through his teeth. "Bad connection."
"Where are you?" she shouted, which made him grin and feel guilty at the same time.
"On Route 2, by the old mill." Dax frowned as he slowed. Up ahead was the milling plant and warehouse. Isolated from town by at least ten miles and surrounded by woods, the place served little purpose.
It hadn't been used in years. The land was on his list of dangerous properties, a potential disaster just waiting to happen. It was his job to keep properties such as these vacant of homeless people, mischievous teens and desperate lovers.
A small, sleek sports car was parked in front of it, empty. "Dammit."
"Dax McCall!"
"Sorry." He pulled into the lot. "Gotta go, Shel."
"No, don't you dare hang up on me---"
He disconnected and chuckled. She'd stew over that for at least half an hour before calling him back. Long enough, he decided as he got out of the truck, for him to hassle whoever was snooping where they shouldn't.
The door to the building was locked, with no sign of damage or break in, which meant the trespasser had a key.
A real-estate agent.
He knew this with sudden certainty and shook his head in disgust. The bricks were crumbling. Some were missing. The place could collapse with one good gust of wind.
Who could possibly want to buy it?
And why would anyone go wandering around in it? Muttering to himself, he pounded on the door, waiting to face whatever idiot had decided to go into an unsafe building.
No one answered.
Curious now, Dax walked all the way around the building, calling out as he went, but only silence greeted him. Even the woods seemed empty on this unseasonably warm autumn day.
With a resigned sigh, he moved back around to the front, and examined the weak lock. "Juvenile," he decided with disgust for whoever the owners were.
With a pathetic barrier like this, they were asking for trouble. It took him less than thirty seconds to break in. The large door creaked noisily as he thrust it open and peered inside. "Hello?"
Complete darkness and a heavy mustiness told him there was little to no cross ventilation, which probably meant no alternative exit.
It was every bit as bad as he'd thought---a hazardous nightmare.
He propped open the front door with a rock and entered. If no one answered in the next minute, he'd go back to his truck for a flashlight, but he figured by now, whoever had been inside would be more than happy to get out.
"County Fire Inspector," he called loud and clear. "Come out, this place is dangerous."
A door opened on the far side of the warehouse, and he frowned. "Hey---"
The door slammed. Swearing, he ran toward it, yanked it open.
Stairs.
Far below, he saw the flicker of a light and swore again. "Wait!" He stepped into the stairwell, angry at himself now for not stopping to get his own flashlight, because he couldn't see a thing. "Stop!"
Those were the last words he uttered before the quake hit, knocking him to his butt on the top steel stair.
Born and raised in Southern California, Dax had experienced many quakes before. He considered himself seasoned. Still, it was unsettling to be leveled flat without warning, his ears echoing with the roar of the earth as it rocked and rolled beneath him.
The shaking went on and on and on, and he lost his bearings completely. He could see nothing, which disoriented him, and he hated that. Beneath him, the stairs rattled and shook violently. He held onto the rail for all he was worth, not even attempting to stand.
"Don't give," he begged as he clenched onto the steel for dear life. "Just don't give, baby."
At least a six-point-zero, he decided with some detachment, as he waited for the world to right itself again.
But it didn't. He upgraded mentally to a six-point-five.
He heard a roar, then the crash of tumbling bricks, which was a bad thing.
Very bad.
As he ducked his head to his knees, protecting the back of his neck with his hands, heavy debris tumbled down around him.
A new fear gripped him then---the building couldn't withstand the movement. The whole thing was going to go and, in the process, so was he.
Dax prayed fervently for the place, mostly the staircase that he sat clinging to, hoping, hoping, hoping, but with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew the ancient building couldn't hold up to this kind of jarring.
It was going to collapse and there were two floors above him.
Dead meat sitting, that's what he was.
A metallic taste filled his mouth and he realized he'd bitten his tongue, hard. Half expecting his life to flash before his eyes, Dax was surprised that all he could think of was his family. They wouldn't know where to find his body, and that would destroy his mother.
His sisters would never be able to set him up again.
Then the bottom dropped out from beneath his world, and he fell.
And fell.
As he did, he heard a scream.
2
DAX LANDED HARD, on his already bruised butt.
The hit jarred him senseless for a moment, and the all-consuming dark further confused him. He remembered the destruction of the stairwell he'd been on and knew that meant big trouble when it came to getting out.
He also remembered the scream.
"Hello! Fire inspector," he called out roughly. In the blackness, he quickly rose to his knees, then coughed and gagged on a deep breath of dust and dirt.
Not being able to see, he felt disoriented, but his professional training and innate need to help others quickly cleared his head. "Hello?"
"Over here!"
Female. Hell, he thought, scrambling as fast as he could over what felt like mountains of brick and steel. The collapsed stairwell, he realized. "I'm coming!" His lungs burned. "Where are you?"
"Here." He heard her choke and sputter on the same dirt he'd inhaled. "Here!" she cried louder, just as he reached out and touched her leg.
"Oh!" Clearly startled, she pulled back.
But Dax was determined, and afraid for her. Had any of the falling debris struck her? Gently but firmly, he closed in, and feeling his way, streaked his hands over her.
She made an unintelligible sound.
"Where are you hurt?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he carefully and methodically checked her arms, silently cursing his lack of a flashlight. He ran his hands over her legs, during which he had the thought that even a saint---something he most definitely wasn't---would have recognized what a fine set of legs they were. Long, lean, toned and bare except for a silky pair of stockings.
"Hey, stop that!" Hands slapped at him, and when he got to her hips, she went wild, scooting back and kicking out.
He caught a toe on his chin.
A toe that was covered in a high heel pump, if he wasn't mistaken. And for the second time in so many minutes, he saw stars. "Stop, I won't hurt you," he told her in the same calming, soothing voice he'd used to placate hundreds of victims. No broken bones, thank God.
"Back off then."
"In a minute." He gripped her narrow waist in his big hands. "Are your ribs okay?"
"Yes! Now get your paws off me while I find my damn flashlight." She shifted away from him, and then promptly let out a low, pained gasp at her movement.
Immediately he was there, reaching for her. "Let me," he demanded quietly, running his hands up her waist, over each individual rib with precision and care. Nothing broken there, except his own breathing because there was something inexplicably erotic about touching a woman he'd never seen. Though he couldn't see her, he sure could feel her, and she was something; all feminine curves, soft skin and sweet, enticing scent.
He felt her cross her arms over her chest, and as a result, the back of his knuckles brushed against the plumped flesh of her breasts.
At the contact, she made a strangled sound, then shoved him. "Not there!"
Her shoulders seemed fine, if a little petite, so did both arms, but he could feel the telltale stickiness on one of her elbows, which he'd missed before. Maybe it had just started bleeding.
Everything else vanished as his training took over. "You've cut yourself." Concern filled him because they were dirty, with no immediate way out, and he had no first-aid kit. Infection was imminent.
"I'm fine."
Her fierce independence made her seem all the more vulnerable, and as all victims seemed to do, she tugged at something deep inside him. So did her cool voice, because in direct contrast to that, he could feel her violent trembling. He ripped a strip of material off his T-shirt and tied it around her arm to protect the cut from more dirt.
She was still shaking.
"You okay?" Damn, he wished he could see her. If she went into shock, there was little he could do for her, and the helplessness of it all tore at him.
"I just want out of here," she said, slightly less icily then before.
"Are you cold? Let me---" He reached for her, but she shifted away.
"I told you, I'm fine."
It amazed him how calm she sounded. Dax's sisters were all equally loved, but also equally spoiled rotten. They were never quiet, never calm. And certainly never in control. If a fingernail broke, if it rained on a new hairstyle, if Brad Pitt got married, the world came to an end.
It wasn't a stretch for Dax to admit that the women he dated---and since women were a weak spot for him, he dated a lot---were much the same.
But this woman in front of him, the one he couldn't see, could only feel, was an enigma to him.
Again, she pushed away.
He heard her struggle to her feet. "Hey, careful," he urged.
"I'm not going to faint."
The disdain in her voice told him what she thought of that particular weakness.
"I'm not," she added to his silence. "I had a flashlight. I want it now."
At that queen-to-peasant voice, he had to laugh. "Well, then. By all means, let me help you find it." Stretching out, he felt his way along the floor, painstakingly searching for the light with his fingers. "You're a hell of a cool cucumber, you know."
"It was just an earthquake."
"Yeah well, that was one hell of an earthquake."
"Do you always swear?"
"Yes, but I'll try to control myself." His back to her, he closed his fingers over the flashlight. Though the bulb flickered and was nearly dead, it came on.
Looking at the situation before him, he let out a slow breath and swore again.
Coming up behind him, she made a sound of impatience. "I thought you were going to control yourself---Oh." She paused. "This isn't good."
"No." Grim reality settled on his shoulders like a solid weight as he surveyed the situation in the faint light before him. "Not good at all."
The stairway was completely destroyed, lying in useless piles around them. There was no other entry into the basement where they stood, except the hole far above them. On the ground, directly beneath that opening, was a huge mountain of fallen brick and steel.
The pile previously known as the staircase.
There was no way out. They were literally buried alive.
"The entire building...it's gone, isn't it?" she asked softly, still behind him.
Dax thought about lying. It would protect her and his first instinct was always to protect and shelter, at any cost. But he already knew she wasn't a woman to be coddled. "Looks that way."
"We're going to die."
So calm, so matter-of-fact, even when he knew she had to be terrified. "We still have oxygen," he said positively. "And the flashlight."
That was when the damn light died.
In stunned silence, she drew an audible deep breath.
Reaching behind him, he groped for her hand. Surprisingly, she took it and held on.
"If the quake hadn't slid us across the floor, away from the opening," she said, her voice very sober, very small, "We'd be toast right now."
Burnt toast, Dax thought, gently squeezing her fingers.
"Well, we're not dead yet."
Maybe not, but they would be soon enough. Tons of brick lay on top of the thin ceiling of the basement above their heads. They'd been saved only by the dubious strength of that protection. Dax had no idea how long the floor would hold. He didn't imagine it could withstand the inevitable aftershock.
"Does someone know where you are?" he asked, carefully keeping his growing shock and dismay to himself.
"No." Through their joined hands, he felt her shiver again.
He'd been in some hairy situations before, it was the nature of his job. He was good at saving his own behind, even better at saving others, but he thought maybe his luck had just run out.
Regret and rage threatened to consume him, but he wasn't ready to give up yet. He drew in a ragged breath and nearly gagged on the lingering dust. "Come on, this is the hallway, there must be more rooms. They'll be far cleaner than this, it'll be easier to breathe." And maybe there would be some sort of steel-lined safe they could crowd into for protection when the ceiling over their head collapsed, assuming they had enough oxygen to wait for rescue.
"There's two offices, a bathroom and a small kitchenette," she intoned. "Furnished." She shrugged, her shoulder bumping against his. "I have the listing in my pocket."
Dax wished the flashlight hadn't gone out, wished that he'd gotten a look at the woman next to him before it had, wished that he'd eaten more for breakfast that morning than a bowl of Double Chocolate Sugary O's.
"We'll be fine." She sounded secure, confident, despite her constant shivers. "We'll just wait to be rescued. Right?"
Dax decided to let her have that little fantasy since he wasn't ready to face the alternative, though he held no illusions---when the weight of the crumbled two stories above them came through the ceiling, they were as good as dead.
Feeling their way through the inky darkness, climbing and struggling, they left the hallway. It wasn't fast or easy, and Dax kept waiting for the woman to falter or complain, or fall apart.
But to his amazement, she never did.
They decided they were in one of the offices, which after a bit of fumbling around, they discovered had a couch, a desk, two chairs and some other unidentifiable equipment. The second office was smaller, and from what they could tell, void of furniture. The kitchenette seemed dangerous, the floor was littered with fallen appliances and a tipped-over refrigerator.
There was no safe place to hide except back in the first office. Like a trooper, the woman stoically kept up with him as they made their way. He couldn't help but wonder at her incredible control, and what had made her that way.
A DISTANT rumbling was their only warning, but it was enough for Amber, who reacted without thinking by throwing herself at the stranger who'd become her entire world. Later she'd be mortified by her lack of control, but at the moment control was the last thing on her mind.
As the earth once again pitched and rolled beneath their feet, the man snatched her closer and sank with her to the floor.
"Hurry," he demanded, pushing her under what felt like a huge, wooden desk. He crawled in after her.
She had time to think the earth's movement was slight compared to the other quake before he hauled her beneath him, sprawling his big and---oh my---very tough body over hers, protecting her head by crushing it to his chest.
Time once again ceased to exist as she closed her eyes and lived through the aftershock. Huddled in the pitch dark, Amber knew what the man holding her so tightly feared---as she feared---death. It could easily happen, right this second, and she waited breathlessly for the ceiling above them to give and crush them.
Unwilling to die, she held on, reacting instinctively by burrowing closer to the stranger's warmth, his strength. He had both in spades and shared it freely.
After what seemed like years---she'd lost all sense of time---the rocking stopped.
She became aware of how close they were. How big a man he was, how every inch of her was plastered to every inch of him. A stranger.
She'd thrown herself at a stranger.
Mortified, she pushed at him. Immediately, he rolled off her and they lay there beneath the desk, separated by inches. Holding their breath.
Nothing crushed them. In fact, the silence was so complete it was nothing short of eerie.
"It held," she whispered.
"Yeah." In the dark he shifted, and she got the feeling he was staring at her. "You're incredible, you know that?"
No one had ever called her such a thing before. "Why?"
"You're so calm. No panic."
"You didn't panic," she pointed out.
"Yeah, but..."
"But I'm a woman?"
"I'm sorry." There was a reluctant smile in his voice. "But yes, because you're a woman I guess I expected you to wig out over that one."
With hard won habit and sheer will, she never wigged out. Not Amber Riggs. She had too much control for that. The master himself had taught her the art. Her father had demanded perfection from her, and total submission.
He'd gotten it.
The fact that her cold, hard, exacting military parent could still intrude on her life, especially at a time like this, where every last moment counted, really infuriated her. She shoved the unhappy memories aside.
"I like control," she said, and if her voice was tinged with steely determination, she couldn't help it. She was proud of her cool, sophisticated front. It certainly hadn't come easily. How many times had she been told she mustn't be like the mother she'd never known? The mother who'd been wild and uncontrollable before she'd taken off after Amber's birth?
A slut, her father liked to remind his daughter.
No, Amber must never be like her.
Little chance of that when she'd grown up with no maternal influence to soften her strict, unbending father. Once upon a time, she'd done everything in her power to earn his approval, but it had never come. She'd learned to live without it.
She didn't need his, or anyone's, approval.
As a result, her life was quiet, and okay, maybe a bit sterile, but she'd convinced herself that was how she wanted it. She didn't need anyone or anything, and she especially didn't need what she secretly felt unworthy of---love.
Instead, she buried herself in the one thing that would never hurt or disappoint her---her work---and she liked it that way.
So what was that stab of regret she felt now, while she lay waiting to die? What was this terrible sadness coursing through her, this certainty that by ignoring all emotion and passion in order to succeed at her work, she'd somehow let life pass her by?
She was single; no husband, no children. Not even a boyfriend or a casual date. A barren woman with a barren life.
What would it be like to have a man waiting for her right now, worrying over her? Loving her with all his heart and soul?
She'd never know now.
Another rumbling came.
Before she could react, the stranger was there, again yanking her close into the heat and safety of his arms. He had big, warm hands and they settled at her back, soothing and protective.
This quake felt much slighter, a huge relief. But it allowed other things to crowd Amber's brain besides fear.
Things like the man she was glued to.
She could feel the fierce pounding of his heart, feel his large hands gently cup her head, feel the tough sinew of his hard body as it surrounded hers. The weirdest sensation flooded her.
Arousal, she realized in shock.
Good Lord, one little emergency and she started acting like her mother!
She couldn't believe it, and promptly blamed the circumstances for her shocking lack of control. But the connection between her and this man felt like ice and fire at once, and it baffled her. Danger, she told herself. It was just the danger, the sense of impending death making her feel like this, all liquidy and...well, hot.
"It's okay," he whispered in that incredible voice, the one that made her feel like melted butter.
She couldn't have it, wouldn't have it, and yet she couldn't seem to let go of him. A whimper sounded, and she was horrified to realize it was her own.
Needing to be free, she fought him.
"Shh, you're all right," he told her when she struggled against both him and the unaccustomed feelings swimming through her. With frightening ease, he lay her back on the ground, easily subduing her.
Above them came the booming sound of more falling brick, and it was louder, more terrifying than Amber could imagine. The falling debris hit the top of the desk that was protecting them, nearly startling her right out of her own skin.
They were going to die now.
She had to get out. But she couldn't budge, he held her too close, protecting her body with his.
"Don't fight me," he coaxed in her ear. "We've got to stay right here."
"No," she gasped, wrestling, listening to the noise of the building crumbling to dust around them, feeling the heat of him as he held her safe no matter how she fought him.
Didn't he understand? She'd lost it, her prized control was gone, and the greater danger lay right here, in his warm, strong arms. "I need out!" she cried.
"You can't." Regret made his voice harsh, but so did determination as he leaned over her, cuffing her hands over her head, restraining her with his superior strength.
"Listen," he demanded as she silently fought him with everything she had. "Listen to me!" He gave her a little shake. "The building has collapsed on top of us. If you leave the safety of the desk now, when the ceiling of this basement gives..."
Not if the ceiling collapses, but when. He didn't have to finish his sentence, but God, oh God, she couldn't bear it, this enforced contact between them. She was plastered to him from head to toe and the opaque blackness only added to the sense of intimacy.
"It's stopped," he murmured, relieved, and she felt his cheek brush against hers. "It's over."
She waited with what she considered admirable patience, but he didn't let her go. "Get off me."
"Promise me you won't do something stupid."
Stupid. Oh, that was good. They were going to die when she'd never really even lived. She had nothing to show for her life, nothing except for what would soon be a useless bank account. Now that was stupid. "Let me up."
"Not until you promise you won't disturb the balance of things."
Still helplessly stretched out beneath him, she shifted and discovered he had one powerful leg between hers. Every time she moved, the core of her came in contact with the juncture of his thighs.
She'd been too busy trying to get free to pay much attention, but suddenly she realized she wasn't the only one who was affected by their closeness.
He was aroused.
He was actually hard, for her. It seemed so absolutely amazing. Surreal.
Later she would blame age-old instincts, but whatever it was, it made her hips arch slightly.
In response, he made a dark sound that shot an arrow of heat straight through her. This was life, came the insane thought.
Go for it. Take it.
She moved against him again, tentatively.
He muttered something; a curse, a prayer, she had no idea which, and at the sound, blind desire overcame her. Before she could stifle the urge, she pressed even closer.
"Your name," he demanded, letting go of her hands to slide his down her arms. "I need to know your name."
"Amber."
"Daxton McCall. Dax." His hands came up now to cup her face, and a callused thumb brushed over her lips, so lightly she wasn't sure if she imagined it, but it gave her a jolt of awareness that was almost painful.
Suddenly her world was rocking and she was no longer certain if it was another earthquake or just reaction to the insane sexiness of his voice, his body.
"You're shaking," he whispered.
She couldn't stop.
"Let me warm you." Gently, tenderly, he scooped her closer, running those big, sure hands over her spine to her hips, bringing her tight against his delicious heat...his incredible erection.
It was wrong to sigh over it; so very, very wrong, snuggling up to a man she'd never even seen. A stranger for God's sake.
But for the life of her, she couldn't pull away.
She needed this, desperately. Needed this reaffirmation that they were indeed alive, at least for now.
She was going to live life to the fullest, she promised herself. Every second she had left.
But as a huge thundering crash echoed around them, she couldn't help but scream.
The walls shook, the ceiling shuddered, and they clung together, holding their breath, waiting, waiting, each second an eternity.
No more chances. This was it.
They were going to die.
3
TERRIFIED, Amber cried out for her stranger, her Dax McCall. She had no idea what she wanted to say, but in that moment, with their world coming apart, it didn't matter.
He understood. "I'm here, right here," he told her, his body close so she couldn't forget.
"It's so loud," she cried, horrified at how weak she sounded.
"You're not alone."
"I'm scared."
"Me, too."
"I need..."
"I know. I do, too. Come here, come closer." And he enclosed her in a tight embrace that was so erotically charged, she could almost forget she lay huddled beneath a desk on cheap flannel carpeting in the basement of a building that had collapsed above them.
Her face was buried in his neck, and because it was so warm, so indelibly male, she left it there, inhaling deeply the very masculine scent of him. "We're going to die," she said against his skin.
She felt him shake his head.
His denial was sweet, but she didn't want to be protected, not from this. "Tell me the truth."
"I don't want to believe it."
"Neither do I." It was unlike her to talk to a stranger, much less cling to one. Even more unlike her to admit to her real feelings on anything. But the words poured from her lips before she could stop them. "I don't want it to end like this. It can't. I've never really lived, not once, it can't be too late!"
He didn't say anything about the loss of her calm, cool sophistication, for which she thought she might be forever grateful. In fact, he didn't say anything at all, he just continued to touch her, maintaining the connection between them.
"Dax, I think---"
"Don't think."
"But there's so much---"
"Don't."
"I can't stop. I can't turn it off."
"You're shaking again." In his voice was a wealth of concern and compassion, two emotions sorely missing in her life. He worried. He didn't even know her, and he worried. Just thinking about it had her eyes misting.
How was it that a stranger could care so much for her in such a short time, when no one else ever had?
That was her own fault, and she knew it. Another regret. She didn't let people in, didn't let people care. Things had to change.
Starting right now. "I want to live."
"You're thinking again."
"I can't stop."
"Let me help."
"Yes." Anything.
"Try this..." He angled her head up and met her lips with his.
Far above them, the ceiling groaned and strained under the weight of debris. The ominous, ever-present creaking got louder.
In opposition to Amber's surging, very real fear, Dax's kiss was soft, gentle, sweet.
"Stay with me," he whispered against her lips.
His warm, giving mouth was heaven, such absolute heaven, that she gradually did just as he asked, she stayed with him, lost herself in him, drowning in the very new sensation of desire and passion.
A sound escaped her, a mere whisper of the pleasure starting to thread through her body. He soothed and assured, both with that magical voice and even more magical hands, kissing her again and again, until shyly, eagerly, she opened to him, only to jerk at the resounding thunder of more falling debris.
"Shh, I'm here," he murmured, then dipped his head again.
The shock of his tongue curling around hers was a welcome one, and Amber pressed closer, grateful, desperate for more of the delicious distraction. One of his hands continued to cup her face, stroking her skin, the other drifted down her body, curving over her bottom, squeezing. He rocked her slowly, purposely, against his hips.
But when the ceiling made yet another terrible straining sound, she cringed.
"No, don't listen to that." Now his clever mouth was at her ear, his words sparking little shivers down her spine. "Stay with me, remember?"
As their world crumbled around them, Dax was right there, commanding her attention, drawing her out of her fear. "Listen to the blood pound through your body," he murmured, pressing his lips to her temple. "Listen to the sound of our breathing...do you hear it? Do you?" he urged, willing her to let go of the terror to concentrate on what he was making her feel.
It worked, and when she felt his hot, wet mouth on her skin, she gasped and arched up into him.
"Listen to your body craving mine...."
Oh yes, yes she heard it now, the blood whipping through her system as he tasted her. She heard the sound of his low, rough groan when she writhed against him. Knowing she was causing his harsh, ragged breathing gave her an incredible sense of power. "More," she begged. "Help me forget that we're going to---"
Die, she'd been about to say, but he simply swallowed the word and kissed it away. He kissed her mouth, her face, her throat, all the while using his hands to stoke the fire. Her blouse fell open beneath his hands, and he treated her breasts to the same glorious magic, sucking and nibbling and stroking her nipples until she begged for more.
The rest happened so fast that afterward she could never fully recall it except as a hazy, sensuous, haunting dream. She tore open his jeans; he shoved them off his hips. He slid his hands up her skirt, groaning when he came to her thigh-high stockings, her one secret luxury. She might have spared a moment for embarrassment, but then he whipped off her panties and slipped his fingers between her thighs, dipping into her wet heat. Touching, stroking, claiming her until she couldn't think of anything but getting more.
Penetration wasn't easy, it had been a pathetically long time for her, but Dax slowed, teasing her aching, swollen flesh with his knowing fingers until she was ready to take him. He was huge, hot and throbbing inside her. Unbearably aroused, Amber tossed her head back, lifted her hips and sobbed as unfamiliar sensations rocketed through her. She was on the very edge, teetering, madly trying to regain her balance, but he didn't allow it.
"Let it happen," he whispered, his fingers teasing and urging and tormenting. "Come for me, Amber. Come for me now."
The pleasure was so intense she couldn't have held back if she'd wanted to. She was wild, completely out of herself, as the orgasm took her.
And took her.
It was endless. Above her, she felt him convulse, heard his hoarse cry, then they fell together, trembling, their hearts pounding violently.
Amber had no idea how much time passed before Dax lifted his head and stroked the damp hair from her face. "You okay?"
She thought about it and smiled. "Yes." Crazy as it seemed, she was definitely okay.
Wrung out by their hollowing, grinding, shattering emotions, they dozed then, still locked in each other's arms.
"ARE YOU TAKEN?" The minute the words fell out of her mouth, Amber winced. Stupid. And if she hadn't so neatly cut herself off from socializing all these years, she could have done better. "I mean---"
Besides her, Dax laughed softly. "I know what you mean. And no, I'm not married, I never would have made love to you otherwise."
They'd made love. Good Lord.
And they'd had two more aftershocks. They sat side by side, still beneath the desk. Mortified as Amber was over what they'd done, Dax had refused to let her leave the safety of their meager protection.
"Not that I have anything against the institution of marriage in general," he offered. "But I come from a huge family. Five meddling sisters and two equally meddling parents. Ten nieces and nephews. Tons of diapers and messes and wild family dinners." She felt his mock shudder.
It had always been just her father and herself, so Amber could only imagine the sort of life he described. But family or not, she could understand his need to be alone, uncommitted. She herself was alone most of the time, and greatly preferred it to the alternative. Letting someone in meant letting someone have control over her, which was not an option.
She'd had enough of that to last her a lifetime; first with her father, who'd been almost maniacal in his desire to curb her every impulse, and then she'd repeated the cycle with her ex-fiancé.
She didn't intend to make that mistake again, ever.
"I plan to settle down in another twenty years or so." Dax's voice had a smile in it. "Maybe when I'm forty. Just in time to have a double rocking chair on my porch." Then his amusement faded away. "That's my hope anyway."
If I live.
His unspoken words hung between them. "They'll worry about me," he said after a moment, very softly. "I hate knowing that."
She could hear the deep, abiding love he had for the people he cared about, and wondered what it would be like to know she was unconditionally loved that way.
"How about you?" he asked. "Who do you share your life with? Who's missing you right now, worrying about you?"
She opened her mouth, but had nothing to say.
"What? Too personal?" He let out a little laugh and nudged her. "What could be more personal than what we've already done together? Come on, now. Share."
"No one."
"No one what?"
"There's...no one."
He was quiet for a moment. Probably horrified. "I have a hard time believing a woman like you has no one in her life," he said finally, very gently.
It shocked her, the way he said "a woman like you." His voice held admiration, attraction, tenderness.
Under different circumstances, she might have laughed. The truth was she'd been a wallflower nearly all her life. Only when she'd struck out on her own, ruthlessly devouring magazines and books on fashion and style, had her appearance changed so that no one could actually see that wallflower within her. To the world, she appeared cool, elegant, sophisticated.
Apparently she'd fooled him, too.
"Amber?"
"I think you know I don't have a lover," she said quietly. "Not recently anyway." She ducked her hot cheeks to rest them against her bent knees. "No attachments."
She could feel him studying her. Could feel his curiosity and confusion.
"There's no shame in that." He slid a hand up and down her back.
No, maybe not, she thought wearily. But there was in her memory. "I was engaged once," she admitted. "Several years ago. It didn't work out." She didn't add she'd discovered her fiancé had been handpicked by her father, drawn to her by the promise of promotion. That Roy had used her to further his military career, instead of really loving her as she'd allowed herself to imagine, had been devastating.
So had her father's involvement.
Of course he'd been bitterly disappointed when she'd backed out of the arrangement. She'd failed him, and he'd made that perfectly clear.
Well, dammit, he'd failed her, too.
After that, Amber had hardened herself. Being alone was best. No involvement, no pain. She believed it with all her shut-off heart.
"I'm sorry." Dax reached for her hand, but at the pity she heard in his voice, she flinched away.
"No, don't," he whispered, scooting closer, feeling for her face to make sure she was looking at him. "I'm sorry you've been hurt, but I'm not sorry you're alone now."
She had no idea what to say to that.
"Don't regret what happened here, between us. I don't."
It was difficult to maintain any sort of distance when the man was continually touching her with both that voice and his hands. He was so compassionate, so giving, and he was doing his absolute best to keep her comfortable, all the while filling her with a traitorous sexual awareness.
For the first time in her life, she wondered if she'd judged her mother too harshly. It wasn't a thought that sat well with her.
"Amber?"
That was another thing about him, he refused to let her hide, even from herself. "I won't regret it," she promised, knowing they were going to die anyway. "It would be a waste to regret something so wonderful."
"Yes, it would."
"I don't want to die." She hadn't meant to say it, but there it was.
The words hung between them.
"The ceiling is holding," he said after a moment. "The desk has protected us."
Yes, but they would be crushed soon enough. The ceiling above them was still making groaning noises and no amount of reassurances or placating lies could cover that up. They knew from Dax's careful exploring that one corner of the office had collapsed under tons of dirt and brick. They now had half the space they'd had originally.
Suddenly Dax froze.
"What---"
Dax put his fingers to her mouth. "Shh." He sat rigidly still, poised, listening. "Hear that?"
She tried. "No."
He surged to his feet, banging his head on the desk. He swore ripely, apologized hastily, then crawled out and shouted.
"What are you doing?" Amber demanded, fear clogging her throat. He'd get hurt, something would fall on him.
She'd be alone.
Always alone.
She didn't want to die that way.
"Someone's up there," he told her with a shocked laugh. "They're looking for us. Listen!"
Then she heard it, the unmistakable shouts of people.
Joy surged.
She was going to live after all. She was going to get a second chance.
And thanks to Dax McCall, this time around she'd make the most of it.
IT TOOK HOURS to rescue them from the building, but eventually Amber was standing in the asphalt parking lot, blinking like a mole at the fading daylight.
Hard to believe, but they were okay. They were alive. And while they'd been trapped, life had gone on, business as usual.
Well, not quite. Southern California had suffered a six-point-five earthquake.
Amber turned to look at the small crowd of police officers and firefighters surrounding her perfect stranger, and she suffered her own six-point-five tremor.
Dax McCall was tall, lean and built like a runner. No, like a boxer, she amended, all sinewy and tough. Big. It was hard to discern the color of his hair, or even the tone of his skin, covered in dust as he was, but to her, he was stunningly, heart wrenchingly gorgeous.
He was her hero, in a world where she'd never had one before.
But that was silly, the stuff movies were made of, and she was mature enough to realize it. He was human, and she had no need for a hero in her life. Nor for a huge, warm, strong, incredibly sexy man. Still, she stood there, pining after him, allowing herself for one moment to daydream.
I plan to settle down, he'd said. In another twenty years or so.
She'd do well to remember that.
Yes, this had been an amazing episode in her life---literally soul-shaking. The way he'd held her, touched her, kissed her, as if she'd been the only woman on earth, was something she'd always remember.
But it was over now, and he wouldn't want to cling to the moment. In fact, he was probably already worrying about how to let her down gently.
That wouldn't be necessary.
Oh, he was kind, gentle, tender. Some woman had certainly taught him right. Probably many women. But Amber had no desire to be the flavor of the week, and he had no desire for more. He'd made it abundantly clear that he wasn't into commitments. So really, there was only one thing to do, after she thanked him---cut her losses and leave.
Getting him alone proved difficult. Their rescuers had circled him and were deep in conversation, so she waited. Around her was the eerie silence of a regular day. Trees barely moving, sky clear and bright. Little traffic.
But it wasn't a regular day. Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, more than she had while trapped in the basement, Amber knew she couldn't stay another moment. Vowing to thank him in person later, after a hot shower, a good meal and a very private, very rare, pity party, she got into her car.
Taking control of her emotions and actions felt good. Still, her heart gave a painful lurch as she buckled in. Before Dax had finished giving his report to the police, she was gone, assuring herself she was doing the right thing by leaving.
A part of her, though, a very small part, knew the truth. On the outside, to the world, she was tough as nails and cool as a cucumber. Inside, where she allowed no one, she was one big, soft chicken.
And when she put her foot to the accelerator, it was the chicken who ran.
4
One year later:
DAX LED his very pregnant sister off the elevator of the medical center and headed toward the obstetrician's office.
Suzette kept tripping over her own two feet, making him sweat with nerves. She was going to do a swan dive on his poor, unborn nephew or niece, he just knew it. "Please," he begged, holding her arm tight, tempted to sweep her in his arms and carry her himself. "Be careful!"
"You'd trip, too, if you couldn't see your feet." But loving being pregnant, she grinned at him. "Don't worry, I won't go into labor on you."
"I want that in writing," he muttered, glancing at her huge, swollen belly. He'd delivered a baby before, during his firefighting days, when the paramedics hadn't arrived in time. It had been miraculous, awe-inspiring...and terrifying.
"Oh relax." Without mercy, Suzette laughed at him. "I feel great."
"Relaxing around you is impossible."
"Really, I'm fine. Except for a contraction every two minutes."
Now he tripped, and she laughed again. "I love you, Dax."
She kept smiling at him, with huge, misty eyes, and he immediately slowed, slapping his pockets for a tissue, knowing from past experiences she was going to get all sappy on him and cry. "Dammit, Suzette."
"I'm fine. Really." But she sniffed and blinked her huge, wet eyes. "You're just so sweet. So much a part of my life. And sometimes I can't help but think about how we almost lost you to that earthquake."
Dax started to shrug it off, but she stopped, planted herself and her big belly in front of him, and said, "Don't act like it doesn't matter, don't you dare. If you hadn't been talking to Shelley just before you stopped to check out that building, no one would have known where you were. We never would have found you in time."
Because she was getting herself worked up, and making him very nervous while doing it, Dax tried to soothe her. "It worked out okay---"
"You know darn well it almost didn't! The ceiling of that basement completely collapsed on itself only an hour after they got you and that woman out."
That woman.
It had taken him all year, but Dax had managed to steel himself against the white-hot stab of regret he always felt at the thought of Amber. The pain had finally, finally, started to dissipate.
"What if we hadn't gotten to you in time?" Suzette demanded. "You could have died, Dax. And you're my favorite brother."
"I'm your only brother."
Suzette just shook her head and sniffed again. But he was tired of obsessing about the earthquake, and what had happened between him and Amber. It had invaded his thoughts, his life, his dreams for too long now. It was over. Over.
"Those hormones are really something," he said, but he handed her a tissue. "Aren't you tired of crying yet?"
"Nope, it feels good." A big fat tear rolled down her cheek. "Thanks for driving me here."
"Just as long as Alan makes sure to get off for the birth. I am most definitely not available for the coaching job."
He was teasing her and they both knew it. He'd do anything she needed, and for just an instant, for one insane little spurt in time, Dax thought maybe he wouldn't mind being a coach at all.
"Someday this will be you," she said softly, bringing his hand to her belly so that he could feel the wonder of the baby's movement.
"Not in the near future," he said, but he spread his fingers wide, feeling the miracle beneath; moving, growing, living.
"It will be," Suzette promised. "Someday, some woman is going to snag you, make you forget why you like being single. Trust me on this."
Without warning, the memory of lying huddled beneath a desk, waiting to die, holding the frightened but courageous Amber hit him, hard. That day he'd prepared himself for a hysterical, whiny female, but she had surprised him with her inner strength, her quiet resolve to survive.
He'd been drawn to her on a level he couldn't have imagined. Compared to his wonderful but flighty sisters, and the wild bombshells he had an admittedly bad habit of dating, Amber had seemed like a startling breath of fresh air.
He'd wanted, badly, to see her face, and for the first time in his life, it hadn't been to determine if she was as sexy as her voice. He'd wanted to look into her eyes and see for himself if the connection between them was as real as it felt.
In those terror-filled moments, when they'd been so certain the end had come, they'd come together in the dark; desperate and afraid, hungry and needy, joining together to make unforgettable, perfect love, without ever having set eyes on each other.
It had been poignant, amazing...necessary. As necessary as breathing.
The image of Amber exploding in his arms wasn't new; it was never far from his mind. What they'd shared had been incredible, as soul-shattering as the earthquake had been, and he couldn't forget it, no matter how hard he tried.
And yet Amber obviously had.
Despite his best efforts to find her, she'd vanished. He'd gotten an all-too-quick glimpse of her that day, and though she'd been nothing like the women he usually found himself attracted to, he'd thought her short, sleek, dark hair and even darker eyes the most beautiful he'd ever seen.
At first he searched so diligently for her because there was every chance he had gotten her pregnant. That he hadn't used a condom was disturbing, he always used protection. But then again, neither of them had expected to live through the experience.
By the time Dax tracked her down---not an easy feat when he hadn't even known her last name---she'd been gone. He'd located her office, only to be told she'd taken a leave of absence. She'd subleased her condo.
No forwarding address.
Inexplicably devastated, Dax had gone to help fight the wildfires in Montana. He'd been there a month, during which time his disgruntled secretary messed up his office good, and then took another job.
When he'd gotten back, there were no messages, but by then he hadn't expected any from Amber.
She was long gone.
Clearly, she'd wanted no reminder of that one day they'd shared, which was fine. He had his own life, which consisted of work, women and fun. He hadn't looked back.
Much.
"Let's sign you in," he said to Suzette now, shaking the memories off. "This place is packed."
AMBER WAS LATE. Her alarm hadn't gone off, she'd annoyed a client by running behind, and now she was stuck in traffic.
Definitely, a terminally bad day.
Normally she'd have felt weighed down by all the stress. She'd have fought it with breathing techniques and her famed cool control.
But fighting wasn't necessary, because none of it was important. Her life had forever changed on that fateful day she'd gotten caught in the earthquake, and now all that mattered was Taylor.
She pulled into the medical center knowing if she didn't rush, she'd be late for their three-month pediatric appointment, and she hated that. She was never late, yet here she was racing through the parking lot with baby Taylor in her arms and a huge diaper bag hanging off her shoulder, hitting her with each stride.
If she'd gotten up on time, she chided herself, she wouldn't be rushing now. But she was always so tired lately. It was all the change, she decided. Becoming a mother. Coming back to town after a yearlong...what?
What did one call it when a person ran away from her job, her home, her life?
A vacation, she reminded herself firmly. She'd never in her life taken one, certainly she'd been entitled. Just because she'd taken it immediately following the earthquake didn't mean it had anything to do with the choices she'd made.
Neither did one rugged, sexy, unforgettable Dax McCall.
Nope.
God, what a liar she was. The cooing sound stopped her cold. Staring down into her daughter's face, her heart simply tipped on its side.
Baby-blue eyes stared back at her. So had a kissable button nose, two chubby cheeks and the sweetest little mouth.
Love swamped her. Amber had never imagined herself a mother, but Taylor was the greatest thing that had ever happened to her, and looking into that precious face, she had absolutely no choice but to smile.
In response, Taylor let out an ear-splitting squeal and grinned, while cheerfully, uncontrollably waving her arms.
Amber's heart twisted again and she bent, touching her nose to Taylor's. "You are the sweetest baby that ever lived," she whispered fiercely. "I love you."
Taylor drooled, making Amber smile again, though her smile was bittersweet this time. Taylor was her family, her life, her everything. They were alone together.
And together the two of them would be just fine.
That's what Amber repeated to herself as she strode breathlessly to the elevator and hit the button for the second floor. It didn't matter that they were unwanted---Amber by her father, Taylor by hers.
They would survive.
As she waited, she smiled at her daughter and wondered for the thousandth time if Taylor had her daddy's eyes. Were the light, crystal clear baby blues, the kind one could drown in, from Dax?
It still hurt, the not knowing. She'd tried, she reassured herself. The day after the earthquake, after she'd made the rash decision to go to Mexico for an extended vacation that had turned into a yearlong leave of absence, she'd attempted to see Dax.
In spite of her embarrassment at having to face the man she'd thrown herself at, she'd wanted to thank him for saving her life, for she held no illusions. She never would have survived without him, without his quick thinking and razor-sharp instincts, without his warm, safe arms and incredibly soothing voice.
She had no idea where he lived, but knew that as a fire inspector, he had to work out of the main fire house downtown. Somehow she'd summoned her courage to thank him in person, but when she'd gotten there, most of her bravery had faded in the face of reality.
She'd found him all right. He'd been in the break room with one of the firefighters. A woman. And they'd been laughing and teasing and flirting.
She'd prepared herself for anything, anything but that. Standing in the doorway watching, yearning, she thought she'd never seen anyone so open, so absolutely full of life.
He was definitely far more man than she was equipped to handle, and with her words of thanks stuck in her throat, she'd turned tail and run. Not exactly mature, but it was done. To make up for her silliness, she'd sent a thank-you card and flowers before she'd left town.
It hadn't been until later, much later, that she'd discovered her condition.
Her pregnant condition.
The elevator doors of the medical building opened and Amber got on, straightening her shoulders and hugging Taylor close. To her credit, she had indeed again tried to reach Dax, and at that memory, she reddened with embarrassment.
She'd called his office from Mexico, not wanting anything from him, just needing to tell him. She figured she owed him that. He had a right to know.
He'd been in Montana, helping to fight the out-of-control range fires there. She'd left a message with an unsympathetic secretary, explaining where she was and only that she needed to talk to Dax.
He hadn't returned the call.
She understood. He'd moved on.
Yet whatever his faults, he'd once been compassionate and caring to her, and because of that, he needed to hear the truth from her own lips. In person. Though it had been easier to hide all this time, she couldn't continue it.
He had to know about Taylor.
And he would, she promised herself, now that she was back in town---just as soon as she figured out how to do it right.
The elevator doors opened and she entered a huge reception area, filled with women; young and old, sick and healthy, and very pregnant. Most had little children with them. Resigned to a long wait, Amber signed in and stood there, surveying the grumpy crowd, trying to find an empty seat. In her arms, a wide-awake Taylor shifted, stared at all the chaos around her, and let out a happy little gurgle.
"Glad someone's so cheery," Amber said with a helpless laugh. She dropped the heavy diaper bag to the floor and sighed in relief at the loss of the weight. Another grateful sigh came when she sank into an empty chair. Sitting had never felt so good.
But then, from across the room, a sea of waiting people between them, stood a man. Not just any man, but the one who could stop her heart cold.
Dax McCall.
And, oh God, he was staring right at her. What should she do?
All semblance of control flew out the window. So did reasoning. Sure, she could run, but even if her legs were working, running seemed so undignified. She could lie, but that was no good, either. Not only was she horrible at lying, she could never live with herself.
No, she alone had brought on this awkward situation, she would face it. Easier said than done, she thought wildly, still pierced by Dax's unwavering, highly personal stare.
For a second she allowed herself to think---hope---he wouldn't recognize her. After all, the last time he'd seen her, she'd been covered in dirt and debris, battered and afraid, and very unlike herself. And then after that, he'd not returned her call, nor acknowledged her card and flowers.
She should have known better. He recognized her.
Strangely enough, around them life went on. Babies cried, though not Taylor, who was blessedly silent. Parents chatted. Moms-to-be flipped through baby magazines. Medical staff buzzed noisily, going about their rounds and duties.
Amber saw and heard none of it, her gaze held prisoner by Dax's stare. He was exactly as he'd been in her dreams---tall, powerfully built. Unforgettable. He wore snug, faded jeans that fit his athletic physique, and a plaid flannel shirt, open and untucked over a simple white T-shirt.
Plain clothes, not such a plain man.
It didn't help that Amber could remember exactly what lay under those clothes. Though she had never actually seen him in all his naked glory, she'd felt him, every single inch, and what magnificent inches they had been. She knew his every muscle intimately, had personally run her hands over those broad shoulders, his wide chest, his flat stomach, those long, tough thighs...and what lay between.
In her mind she was back there, back beneath that desk, hot and panting for him. If she remembered right, and she was horribly certain she did, she'd actually begged him to take her. Begged.
Heat flooded her face and she was thankful he couldn't read her mind.
Still, he stood there, strong and silent. Charismatic. Even now, as he remained frozen, there were any number of women in the room shooting him frank glances of admiration.
He didn't appear to notice. In fact, he seemed to notice nothing but her.
Unsure, weak in the knees, Amber smiled feebly and was thankful she'd found a chair. The urge to fling her arms around his neck shocked her, and she decided it was some sort of delayed reaction to what they'd been through last year. After all, there'd been a time, a very brief time, when he'd been her entire world.
He moved toward her, and she held her breath. She saw the exact moment he registered what she was holding---or rather, whom.
Hunkering down beside her chair, he gazed with awe and wonder into Taylor's sweet face. "Yours?" he asked.
God, that voice. It should be illegal to combine that mixture of compassion and sexuality. Her pulse beat like a drum as she nodded.
Reverently, he reached out and touched Taylor's pink blanket.
Amber closed her eyes to the sight of him, big and powerful, kneeling by his baby. His baby. This couldn't be happening, not like this, God, not like this. How could she still yearn for him, so much that it was a physical ache?
Her heart thundered in her chest, her blood pumping so loudly she could hardly hear herself think.
What to say? How to make this all okay?
How to make him understand?
Dammit, why hadn't she called him again? Yes, his secretary had been rude and aloof, but what if he hadn't received the message? How could she have been so irresponsible, just because of her own stupid fears?
"How old is she?"
"Three months. Dax..."
"At least you remembered my name." He let out a tight smile. "I wasn't sure there for a moment."
Shame heated her face, but she didn't let it show. She'd lost her control once around him. She wouldn't do it again. "I've never forgotten."
"You've obviously forgotten some of it, or you would have contacted me."
"That goes both ways."
"Do you really think I didn't try to find you?"
A thrill shot through her, and it was completely inappropriate. "I tried, too." But the feeble excuse faded at his expression. And then at his words.
"Three months," he said slowly. "You said she was three months---But that would make her...Oh my God," he said hoarsely, staring at Taylor. "Oh my God. She's mine."
The pain in his voice was real, very real, and Amber had never known such regret and grief in her life. "Dax."
"How could you not tell me?" he demanded in a hushed, serrated voice. "Did I hurt you that much? Were you that unwilling? Did you need revenge?"
"No." His hurt registered and cut like a knife to her heart. She had no idea what to do, how to make this right.
Where was her easy sophistication now, the distance she needed to pull this off? It deserted her in the face of his utterly honest reaction.
In all her life, she'd never purposely hurt another. She'd never had the power. Her father had always been impenetrable that way. Roy, her ex-fiancé, had been her father's emotional twin, or non-emotional. She couldn't have hurt either of them if she'd tried.
There'd been no one else, until Dax. When he hadn't returned her call, she'd figured he was much the same as the other men in her life, but she'd been wrong. Dax wasn't the cold, unfeeling sort, not at all, and she should have known. He was deeply caring and wildly passionate. She imagined he was that way about his work, his playtime, his life, everything.
He'd never hold back, never ruthlessly control himself.
She admired that. Admired it, and feared it.
He didn't move, just stood staring down at his daughter with a combination of awe and fear and devastating sorrow.
Amber couldn't help but notice that he did indeed have the same pale blue eyes as their daughter. His hair, a thick, rich brown, naturally highlighted from the sun, fell recklessly to his collar.
It was the exact shade of Taylor's.
But the physical attributes weren't important, not when compared to the heart-wrenching, awestruck way father and daughter stared at each other.
Amber's chest had tightened at the first sight of Dax, and the fist gripping her heart only tightened with each passing moment. She could hardly stand it.
"What's her name?" he demanded.
"Dax---"
"Her name, Amber."
"Taylor Anne."
"Last name."
Amber hesitated, only for a second, but he noticed. His jaw tightened. "It's a simple enough question, I think."
"Her last name is Riggs," she said quietly. "But you're on the birth certificate."
Dax looked at her then, with eyes as cold as ice and filled with fury.
"I have a copy of it for you," she added inanely.
"You're not going to deny it then?"
"No." Her eyes were filled with bright, scalding tears she refused to shed. "She's yours, Dax. That was the one thing I never had any doubts about."
5
"DAMN YOU," he said softly, the hardened expression on his face melting when Taylor drooled and waved two fists in the air. "How could you not have come to me?"
"I called. You weren't in your office."
He swore again, less softly and thrust his hands through his hair. "And you didn't think that maybe this deserved a second call?"
"I left a message."
Those ice-blue eyes pinned her to the spot. "I never would have pegged you as cruel, Amber. Never."
"Oh, Dax. I never meant to be, but I knew how you felt about becoming a father."
He stared at her in disbelief, so much hurt in his gaze she nearly couldn't look at him. "You know nothing about me if you thought I'd appreciate your silence on this," he said quietly.
"I'm sorry." The words were completely inadequate, and she knew it. "Dax, I'm so sorry. I knew I had to call you again. I planned to, but I just got back into town myself and..." And she'd let her fear stand in the way.
"I looked for you." His laugh was short and completely without mirth. "I wanted to see you. You were nowhere to be found."
"I went to Mexico."
"Alone?"
She nodded.
He looked away from her, down into Taylor's face. His eyes warmed and he lifted a finger to stroke it down the baby's face. "What about your family? You didn't go to them?"
Amber thought of her father, and how he'd reacted to the news of her pregnancy. After his shock, he'd recovered quickly, blaming her mother's genes. He'd told Amber she was an embarrassment to him. Worse. And that he didn't want to see her ever again.
She couldn't admit that shame to Dax. "Going to my family wasn't an option."
"No? Well coming to me should have been. You should have told me. I should have been there. For you, for Taylor. For me."
"I thought---"
"You had no right to make that decision for me, no matter what you thought." His voice was no more than a whisper, but it was so harsh, she cringed.
"You cheated me," he said. "You cheated her, your own daughter."
Amber knew that, God she knew, and she couldn't possibly feel more cruel or guilty. Speaking past the lump of emotion in her throat was impossible.
"Um...Dax?"
At the soft voice behind them, he stiffened, then drew in an agitated breath before carefully rising to his feet to face the woman who was looking at them, confused.
With clear difficulty, Dax smiled at the beautiful, tall blonde whose stomach seemed ready to pop. "You should be sitting down somewhere," he said, his voice hoarse. "Waiting for your appointment."
"What's the matter?" the woman asked, reaching out for him. "Something's wrong."
"I'm fine," he said.
"No---"
"Suzette."
Something in his voice must have warned her. Now the woman looked Amber over in frank curiosity, and Amber looked right back. She couldn't help herself.
Another pregnancy?
"I'm Suzette," the woman said to her, thrusting out her hand.
Amber stared at it, automatically lifting her own from years of enforced manners, wishing she'd stayed in Mexico, wishing that she and Dax could have had this inevitable confrontation without his "latest" witnessing it, wishing that she was anywhere but here.
"Suzette, this is Amber Riggs," Dax said.
"Oh, are you a friend of Dax?" Suzette asked her.
Amber figured that as a not-so-subtle attempt to figure out the relationship between her and Dax, and she would have liked to crawl in a hole. "Well---" She glanced at Dax.
No help at all, he just looked at her from fathomless eyes.
Fine. She could handle this. "It's been awhile since we've---"
Dax raised a brow.
"---seen each other," she finished. "A year."
"Well it must be nice to run into each other." Suzette smiled. "And here of all places. How funny."
Hysterical.
Taylor chose that moment to squeal loudly, making her instant hunger known to everyone within hearing distance. Amber tried to soothe her by giving her a pacifier, but she spit it out and turned bright red, a sure sign of an upcoming fit.
"Let me," Dax said, reaching for the baby. His eyes dared Amber to defy him.
She wouldn't, not over this. She handed Taylor over.
At the loss of her mom's arms, Taylor let out an indignant howl.
"What's the matter, sweetheart?" Dax asked, expertly cuddling the baby close.
She's had only me! Amber wanted to say, but at the equal mixture of terror and joy on Dax's face, she restrained herself. "She's hungry. I have formula."
"You aren't...?" Dax jutted his chin out toward her chest. "Breastfeeding?"
"Yes," Amber said quickly, feeling herself go red at his bluntness. To add insult, her body betrayed her by reacting to his nonsexual gaze in a very sexual way. Her tummy fluttered, her nipples hardened. "When we're out, I'd rather give her a bottle."
"Oh." Appeased, Dax looked down at his daughter, his expression so bare and honest and fierce she could hardly stand it.
Suzette jumped when her name was called from the main desk. "Oh, dear. It's time."
"Yeah." Dax nodded toward a man who'd just gotten off the elevator. "Look, there's Alan. You'll have a ride home."
"But---"
"See you," he said, kissing her cheek, nudging her gently away.
The look Suzette shot Dax over her shoulder was filled with questions.
"Have a good one," Dax said, waving, ignoring her silent curiosity. "Talk to you later."
"Yeah. You'd better." With one last glance, Suzette left them to walk toward the man, but that last look Dax received wasn't difficult to read.
She wanted answers.
Amber wondered if she'd get them. "She's pretty," she said inanely. "When is she due?"
"A week or so."
Taylor reached out with a wet fist, and partly by luck, latched onto the front of Dax's T-shirt. There was already a drool stain down the front of him, then she tugged, wrinkling it. Amber winced but Dax simply cupped the back of her little head with his big hand and smiled at her.
Watching them, Amber's heart wrenched. She didn't want to see how wonderfully perfect the two of them looked together, father and daughter, but there was no missing it. "Shouldn't you be going into the appointment with Suzette?"
"Me?" Dax glanced after Suzette's wobbly figure. "She'll be okay."
Anger vanquished her guilt. "Oh, I see. You don't need to be there for all the hard work, right? Only the fun stuff."
Dax's mouth opened at that, then carefully shut. In spite of the hurt and anger still clearly visible, he let out a little disbelieving laugh. "Tell me you don't think Suzette's baby is mine."
Amber lifted her chin, gave him her best intimidation stare.
He didn't even flinch. "My God. You do."
"I don't know what I think."
"Yes, you do. You're just too polite to share it."
She lifted her chin another notch and he shook his head, disgusted. "Suzette's my sister, Amber. Alan is her husband."
It was hard to remain indignant, she realized, when she was an idiot. "Oh."
"Yeah, oh." He leaned close, close enough that she caught the scent of him, one hundred percent male. It was so achingly familiar, it would surely haunt her that night.
"Fun stuff?" he asked, his brow raised. "Is that what you call it?"
She managed to keep her eyes level with his, barely, but she couldn't control the blush she felt creeping up her face.
"I have to admit, I find it as 'fun' as the next guy," he said a little thickly, his gaze dropping to her mouth for just an instant. "But as I recall, what we shared was a hell of a lot hotter than just 'fun.' In fact, it was downright scorching."
Though he was right, she swallowed hard. The ball of lust he'd created inside her didn't go down though. "Stop it."
"You headlined my fantasies for weeks," he told her in that same sexy tone. "The way you cried my name, remember? And those sexy little mewling sounds you make when you come---"
"Stop."
The teasing left him instantly and he straightened. "You're right, this is not amusing. Not in the slightest." He shifted Taylor closer, looking like a natural dad. "Let me ease your mind," he said curtly, in direct opposition to the gentle way he surrounded his daughter. "I told you I'm not married. That's still true."
The leap in her heart was ruthlessly ignored.
"And you're right about one thing," he agreed. "I might never have chosen to be a father, not yet, but in no way does that mean I won't be the best dad in the world to my baby. I'm a responsible man, Amber, though I have no idea why I'm explaining myself to you, when you obviously didn't care enough to even ask."
"Dax---"
Taylor, tired of waiting, let out another warning cry. She still had a grip on Dax's shirt, and with a kick of her legs, she tugged. Dax grimaced and unsuccessfully attempted to untangle Taylor's fist. "She's got chest hair in that fist," he said, pained.
Good. But Dax's second wince reached her, and with a sigh, she stepped close. "Let me help---"
Their hands touched, his big and rough, hers small and elegant.
The connection was startlingly electric, and given the way Dax went suddenly still, he felt it, too.
They stared at each other stupidly.
Ever since the earthquake, Amber had convinced herself that their undeniable attraction was a direct result of the death threat they'd been under.
Another untruth, it seemed, because there was no threat of death here, and that almost chemical heat between them existed strong as ever.
It was easier to stand and busy herself with loosening Taylor's little fist than to meet Dax's unwavering gaze. Only problem---now she was face-to-face with him, mere inches away, touching his shirt and chest with a familiar intimacy that made thinking difficult.
"Care to share that thought?" he wondered. "The one that's making you blush?"
Her fingers faltered. "No."
"Chicken," he taunted softly.
Her lips tightened, and she might have given him a frosty comment, if she hadn't noticed his breathing wasn't any more steady than hers.
Mercifully, Taylor's name was called from the front desk.
Amber looked up at Dax. He looked right back.
"I need to take her in," she said softly, holding out her hands for the baby.
Dax didn't relinquish her. "I'm coming." His face had hardened into the stubborn expression of a man with a fight on his hands.
But she had no intention of giving him one. She didn't intend to keep Taylor from him, nor did she want to hurt him in any way.
"And then we're going somewhere to settle this," he said firmly.
At that, her good intentions faltered. Memories crowded her, unhappy ones. Always, her father's word had been law. Roy had turned out to be much the same way. All her life, she'd told herself someday things would be different, and now they were.
No one was the boss of her. Not even the man she'd had a child with. She'd share Taylor with Dax because it was the right thing to do, but she'd never let him run her life.
"Settle this?" she repeated evenly, as though her heart hadn't settled in her windpipe. Would he try to take Taylor away from her? Would he tell the courts she was an unworthy mother, just as her own mother had been? "What do you mean by that exactly?"
"I mean that this is far from over."
"Yes, but---"
"Taylor," the nurse called again, and without another word Dax turned, and still holding Taylor, headed toward the waiting nurse, leaving her to follow.
She hated that, mostly because she had never trusted anyone to lead the way for her before, and yet, that very lack of trust had led directly to the trouble she now found herself in.
BY THE TIME they got to Amber's condo, Dax's head was spinning. He had so many emotions running through his mind he was amazed he could even speak. He didn't ask, but simply followed Amber inside.
He couldn't take it all in.
He had a baby.
He was a father.
And then there was Amber herself. Her artfully cut, shiny dark hair still came only to her chin. Her even darker eyes were huge in her face, and full of haunting secrets.
But he thought she was the most attractive woman he'd ever been with. He'd always thought so, from that very first day.
Certainly his daughter was the most beautiful baby he'd ever laid eyes on. He'd held her through her doctor's appointment, staring in stunned amazement at her scrawny little limbs and rounded belly, watching enthralled at the way she screwed up her face with fury when the nurse undressed her.
She had a hell of a temper, he'd noted with some amusement, and none of her mother's cool control. No, his baby girl was all McCall, wearing everything she felt right on her sleeve for the world to see.
And she was his. His.
He was a father. He was a father. Dear God, he was a father.
Honestly, he didn't know whether to dance or cry, but could have easily done both. "Excuse me," he said, moving past a startled Amber into her living room, and folding his liquidy legs, he carefully set Taylor---still in her carrier---on the couch. He sank down next to her and just stared at her.
"Dax?"
"I'm a father, Amber."
She sighed. "Yes."
The hesitation in her answer reminded him she hadn't come to him. He'd happened upon her. The betrayal, even for a woman he didn't really know, cut deep. Dax wasn't perfect, not even close, but he was honest to a fault and expected others to be as well. He'd never have thought Amber capable of this.
"I want to understand," he said, still looking at his baby. "But for the life of me, I can't."
"Understand?"
"Why?" He lifted his head. "How could you not tell me?"
The question, or maybe his face, had her unbuckling Taylor and pulling her into her arms, possessively, protectively, so much so that it was painful to witness.
She actually looked hurt, afraid...and he didn't understand.
He was the wronged party here!
"The reasons don't seem to make much sense now," she admitted, kissing the top of Taylor's head.
"Try me."
"All right." She was in control now, her voice smooth, her gaze steady. "What we had was a fling, Dax. Neither of us wanted more, or would have wanted to drag it out."
Why that infuriated him, he couldn't have said. Maybe because he'd so foolishly looked for her afterward. And then ached for so long at her disappearance. "Speak for yourself."
Her gaze floundered but she remained outwardly calm. "All right. Long after it was over, and a full month into my vacation---"
"Vacation. Don't you mean your Leave-From-Life?"
"---I discovered I was pregnant," she finished without looking at him. "I tried to contact you. You didn't call me back."
"I didn't get your message."
"I'm sorry. I knew I had to try again, but I..." Her jaw tightened. "There are no excuses really. I was wrong. I'm sorry for that, so very sorry." Something haunting flickered across her face. "I was used to being alone, so it seemed rational to do this alone, too."
Dammit, he absolutely didn't want to see that flash of vulnerability, didn't want to be touched by it. With all his being he needed to hold onto his anger. "You're going to have to get over that," he said, not very kindly. "Being alone."
She said nothing to that, and since she was the queen bee at hiding her emotions, he had no idea what she was thinking. She settled Taylor in a playpen, where the baby stared happily up at a musical mobile, kicking excitedly.
Dax could have watched that little girl all day long, but at the moment, the show was Amber. Her actions were smooth, and so purposely relaxed that he knew she had to be the exact opposite---strung tight as a drum.
"I like to be alone," she said.
"That's too bad."
She flinched.
And that was where more unwanted conflicting emotions came into play for Dax. He didn't pretend to understand this woman who had tipped his world on its axis, but at the time, he found he couldn't purposely hurt her. "I'm not threatening you," he said gruffly, hating that she clearly thought he was. "You're the mother of my child." Which made his stomach twist. "We need to talk this out, Amber."
"I know." No nervous fluttering for this woman. Standing directly in front of him, her body and hands still, her face guarded, she waited.
Waited for what exactly, he hadn't a clue. Her eyes gave nothing away, but he could have sworn she was expecting him to light into her one way or another. Again, he was struck by her cool beauty. That he knew exactly how much heat and passion lay just beneath that surface didn't help things. "Will you sit?"
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
She didn't move a muscle. "I can't handle the small talk. Just get down to it. You're going to fight me for custody."
It took him a full moment. "What?"
"You're going to try to take her away from me, right?"
He stared at her, shocked. She was standing there, cool as a cucumber, waiting for the ax to fall, waiting for him to try to destroy her. "Hold on." He shook his head, trying to clear it. Then he slowly stood to make them even. "Have I at any time in these past few hours said anything, anything at all, that could have possibly made you believe I would take Taylor from you?"
"You have to admit, it's something a person in your position would consider."
A headache started, right between his eyes. A tension headache, he realized with surprise. He almost never got tension headaches. "You've been in business too long," he said wearily. "You think with that cutthroat mentality."
She still just waited, making him sigh. Was she really cold? Or was she dying of fear inside? "I have no intention of suing you."
"But?" Her lips curved, but the smile wasn't warm. "I think I hear one at the end of that sentence."
He let out a disparaging sound and massaged his temples. "But...hell, I don't know. I can't believe I'm here, doing this." Restless, he strode to the playpen.
Taylor turned her attention from the mobile, staring at him with the somberness of an old woman. Bending closer, he smiled at her and suddenly she came to life, wiggling, waving her arms, pumping her little legs for all she was worth, cooing and babbling, doing everything in her three-month-old power to entice him to pick her up.
As if he could have resisted. He scooped her to him, cuddled her close and...nearly passed out. "Holy smokes." He wrinkled his nose and held her out at arm's length.
"I need to change her."
"Yeah." But at the dare he found in Amber's eyes, he held onto his stinky daughter. "I can do it." He tucked her close despite the smell and vowed not to inhale. Taylor's head bobbed, not quite steady, and he settled a hand behind her neck, supporting her. She blinked and a long line of drool dripped from her mouth to his shoulder.
Then she gave him a toothless smile.
His heart tightened, and just like that, he fell in love.
Then she opened her mouth and spit up, hitting him full in the chest with a white, foul-smelling liquid that rivaled the scent coming from her diaper.
Amber bit her lip, and he knew damn well it was to hide her laugh. "Would you like some help?" she asked sweetly.
He had no intention of backing off now, even if his eyes were watering. "I can do this."
Obviously pleased with herself, Taylor cooed and smiled wetly.
Dax held his breath and hugged her close. He'd throw his shirt away later. "Let's go, Squirt."
TWO MINUTES into it, Dax was no longer so certain he could handle this fatherhood thing at all. He had ten nieces and nephews, and somehow he'd managed to avoid changing any of them.
Taylor lay flat on her changing table, naked and shiny clean from the sponge bath he'd given her. But for the life of him, he couldn't figure out how to get her to hold still long enough to get the diaper on her. She seemed to have twenty arms and legs, and all of them were doing the bicycle thing at the moment.
Amber appeared in the doorway, an unreadable expression on her face.
Dax wanted to think that the flash of emotion he saw was guilt, regret, sorrow, pick one of the above, but he couldn't be sure.
"Need some help?" she asked.
Yes. "I've got it." He managed to slide the diaper under Taylor's bare tush, only to have her wriggle to her side and kick it free.
"She's a slippery thing," Amber said. "Tenacious, too."
Pride filled him, and before he could remember how furious he still was, he grinned. "Yeah." Once again he tried to corral her on her back. Taylor grunted and fought him, smiling as she did.
God, she was his. His.
All his life he'd been a goof-off, the class clown. And all his life he'd been treated that way. He had to face the fact he'd done his best to live up to that reputation. With older sisters constantly babying him, and women frequently offering themselves, he'd never really thought of himself as particularly...well, family worthy.
Even his job, as serious and important as it was, was really just an extended form of play. He caught bad guys who started fires.
The truth was, he'd never grown up.
The realization wasn't something to be proud of, and suddenly he didn't like his image. He wanted more.
Taylor blew him a bubble.
Putty in her hands, he had to smile, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he'd just been given more.
Oh, he was still hurt at Amber's deception. Angry, too, and a whole bunch of other things he couldn't name at the moment. But he found he could deal with that separately. He wanted this child with all his heart, and he had no intention of letting anything between him and Amber stand in the way of that.
Behind him, he heard Amber shift as she came forward. He could feel her, could feel that unnamed thing that shimmered between them. Glancing at her, he found her watching him as well.
And for a long moment all that was between them disappeared. He remembered the day they'd spent locked in each other's arms. The heat, the passion, the fear, the need. It had been incredible, and he had to admit, he wouldn't have changed a thing that happened.
Except for maybe Amber's disappearance afterward.
Then he remembered, he was standing there, holding his daughter---his daughter!---and that Amber had kept her from him.
And just like that, the moment was gone.
With a strange sense of regret, Dax turned back to the baby and Amber left him alone, without a clue as to what she was thinking.
Nothing new.
Taylor blew him a bubble, and Dax had to let out a laugh. "I don't think she's nearly as charmed with me as you are, sweetheart."
Taylor just drooled.
TAYLOR SLEPT peacefully, oblivious to the tension around her, her little butt sticking straight up in the air, her fist stuffed in her mouth.
Dax watched her, actually feeling his heart contract. Just looking at her hurt.
It hurt to look at her mother too, he discovered, as he came down the stairs and met Amber's deep, dark, impenetrable gaze.
"Let's get this over with," she said calmly, only her eyes giving away her nerves. "What do you want?"
"Want?" He laughed incredulously. "That's an interesting question."
"Do you have an answer?"
"How about you marry me?"
Her composure slipped on that one, but she regained it quickly enough. "Don't be ridiculous."
"Yes or no, Amber."
"It's simply not possible."
"Sure it is. You just say, 'I do."'
She stared at him, and incredibly, he found himself wishing she'd come to him months ago. He would have been so thrilled to see her. He would have drawn her close for a hug and probably never let her go.
But marriage? His stomach cramped at the thought. Yet how else to resolve this? He hated the thought of Taylor feeling illegitimate. Hated the thought of being separated from her after he'd just discovered her. "If we were married, then neither of us would have to be away from Taylor. Seems logical to me."
She gave a short, amazed laugh. "Logical."
"More than the alternative anyway. I just found out I have a daughter, Amber. I can't turn my back on her. Or, for some reason, you."
"I'm not an obligation."
"No," he said softly, thinking of the life-altering experience they'd shared. "You're not."
"Dax..."
Again, that thing shimmered between them. Heat. Passion. Need. But it annoyed him, and if he was truthful, it also scared him. "Look, it's simple. Yes or no."
"You're serious," she breathed, then she shook her head. "No." Her shoulders straightened. "I won't marry for anything less than..." She looked down at her hands, which were tightly clenched. She opened them, let them fall to her sides. "I am not going to marry a stranger."
"We stopped being strangers the day of the quake, when we spent hours in each other's arms, terrified, waiting to die."
"I don't usually act like that. I never act like that."
Dax thought it was a shame, but she didn't relent and he let out a sound of frustration. "Look, we're parents. Together. We can't be strangers, even if we wanted to be."
"The answer is still no."
"Fine. You don't want to get married." He wouldn't admit his disappointment because he couldn't believe he felt it in the first place. But neither could he ignore the feeling that, despite her calm control, she was frightened of him.
Much as he wanted to hold onto his anger and resentment, it was hard in the face of that.
"I intend to be a father. A good one. I want my daughter. Just as you do. We're adults. We can share."
She nearly sagged with what could only be described as profound relief. "You want to share her?"
For some reason that made him mad all over again. Dammit, he wasn't the one who should have to prove his trustworthiness! "Hell, yes, I want to share."
"You're not going to fight for custody?"
"Do I need to?"
His tightly spoken words stabbed through Amber. He stood there looking so certain, so fierce. She hadn't expected this, hadn't expected him to actually want Taylor as much as she did.
But she'd been in business a long time, and what she hadn't learned there, she'd learned from her father. Bottom line, she knew how to win a deal. Start out asking for the moon. Take all if you can. Settle for less only if you have to. "I want Taylor with me."
"Sure." He nodded agreeably. Even sent her a smile that could steal the breath from a nun. "Half the time."
Her stomach twisted. "But---"
"Stop," he said firmly, in that voice of rough velvet. Closing the distance between them, he touched her arms, slid his big, warm hands over her skin. Immediately, heat flooded her. Her body remembered his touch vividly, had craved it nearly every night since that time she'd first experienced it. The sensation of being this close to him again was so overpowering, she had to close her eyes for a moment, or reveal everything she felt.
"Look at me."
Shocked at the command, she did.
"I understand you think we're strangers," he said. "And there's a real fear in that. I'm not going to kid you. This isn't going to be easy, we're going to have to work hard. Together."
Amber tried not to panic at the thought of what getting to know him would entail. Intimacy---and she wasn't thinking of sex, but the other aspects---all of which terrified her.
With surprising gentleness, he slid his fingers up and down her arms. "I have the feeling you think I'm out to hurt you, or trick you. I'm not into games, Amber. You've been hurt before, maybe so much so that you feel you can't trust me...." He paused, studying her when she was unable to maintain eye contact.
"I see," he said quietly. He spoke huskily, as if he cared, and it hurt to hear it because she knew all too well how little she deserved his kindness.
"I'm not like him," he told her, his hands still on her. "The ex-fiancé, or whoever hurt you."
He remembered. She couldn't believe he remembered so much about her.
"I'm not trying to frighten you, or threaten. I'm not going to bully you. But Amber---" He lifted her chin. "That baby is mine, and I plan on being a damn good father. We can do this and make it work. Together. It would be good. But it's together. That's the key."
God, that voice. It brought her back to the terrifying magical time she spent with him, a time she could never forget because she'd felt so safe and warm and...wanted.
Unbelievably, she felt wanted now.
"It has to have been hard to do this all alone," he murmured. "She's a little handful. You must be exhausted. Wouldn't some help be nice? From someone with as big a stake as you?"
Amber felt a tiny seed of long-dead hope take root. Was it possible he could forgive her? That maybe he could want her as much as he wanted Taylor? That he could grow to love and care for her as well as Taylor, the real her, the way no one else ever had?
She allowed herself to think about it. To consider it. To dream.
"We'll make up a schedule," he said, dropping his hands and stepping back. "That's the easiest way, unless you have a better idea."
"A schedule?"
"It's the civil servant in me." He flashed a surprisingly self-deprecating smile. "I like routine."
"I don't understand."
"To divide Taylor between us so there's no problem."
"Divide her," she repeated inanely, her stomach dropping to the ground.
"I don't plan on being a weekend dad, Amber. I'm willing to share, but we do it equally."
Well what did she expect? She'd turned down his marriage proposal. But still, the hope within her died a cruel death. He wanted Taylor, not her mother. Amber lifted her chin, because no matter what he said, she could depend on no one, no one but herself. "Fine. We share."
"Equally."
Oh, God. She was actually going to have to do this, give him Taylor. Her eyes burned, threatened to flood. "I said fine."
"Good."
She needed him gone. "You can start tomorrow. Bring your schedule if you must, but for now, for today, she's mine alone. I don't want to share my day."
Dammit, he looked hurt again. "It doesn't have to be so cut-and-dried."
"Yes, it does."
"Why?"
Because she knew nothing else. "All we're sharing is Taylor. There's nothing else to worry about. Absolutely nothing."
"Are you talking about our attraction?"
"There is no attraction. None. None at all."
His eyes narrowed. "Who are you trying to convince?"
"I'm already convinced."
He took a step toward her and she fought against instinct and stood still.
"So you look at me and feel nothing?" he wondered aloud.
When he took another step, she nearly bolted. Sheer willpower held her there. "That's right."
"You don't remember what happened between us? Hell, what exploded between us?"
"This isn't about us---" she stuttered silent when he touched her. "And it's sure not about sex."
"Oh, yes, it is." His voice had lowered, which for some reason made her tummy tingle, but she could ignore that. What she couldn't ignore was the look in his eyes, the lingering hurt mixed in with a good amount of pride and scorching intensity.
"It's not about what I feel," she insisted. "Besides, you can't possibly feel something for me, after what I've done." Her voice was a mere whisper as renewed shame crept up her spine. "I kept her from you, remember?"
"I remember." He touched her face and her eyes nearly closed in pleasure. "You still have to tell me you feel nothing for me," he reminded her.
"I---" She hesitated and saw his eyes flare with triumph. "I don't have to tell you anything." She stood back and crossed her arms over her chest. "Goodbye, Dax."
He stared at her. After a moment, he shook his head and went to the door. "I'll come for Taylor in the morning."
He was leaving. She'd chased him away. Relief, she should feel relief.
She didn't.
And then she was alone, again. Always alone.
6
THEY SETTLED into a pattern, splitting Taylor between the two of them. Dax would have her on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and every other weekend.
It might have been a perfect arrangement, for any other man.
But as a week passed, and then another, Dax realized it wasn't enough, it would never be enough. He wanted more, he wanted it all.
How did other single fathers do it, share their children with their exes? He didn't know.
Even worse, he actually found himself forgiving Amber. Or if not forgiving completely, at least understanding her. He didn't like it.
Thanks to the luck of his schedule, he'd managed to work only on the days Amber had Taylor. But two weeks after he learned he had a daughter, both work and the baby came on the same day.
It was an experience, to say the least. His family had fallen in love with Taylor, and any of them would have dropped everything to babysit, but he wasn't ready to give her up yet.
So baby in tow, he went to his office, confident he could handle it.
Taylor started out the workday fast asleep in her carrier, and everything seemed great. The guys in his office kept poking their heads in to coo over her and Dax kept shooing them out so they wouldn't wake her. But when Taylor's morning nap was over, so was his day.
She cried while he was on the phone to the mayor. She threw up on one of his investigative reports. Then her diaper leaked all over his shirt, causing people to wrinkle their noses when they came too close to him. After a noisy fit over having to drink a bottle with a nipple that infuriated her, Taylor finally, finally, blessedly fell back asleep.
By that time, Dax was so exhausted, he fell asleep, too, face down on his desk.
And awoke to his daughter's cries. Picking her up, he pressed her close and expected her to stop crying, as she always did.
No go. In fact, she worked herself up to a furious red, screaming, mass of rage. Dax tried everything; singing like an idiot, dancing like a bigger idiot, and finally begging. Nothing worked, though it amused the staff members who gathered in his doorway to watch.
Taylor was having none of it. Finally, when her screams threatened to bring down the house, he called Amber.
"I've done something to her," he said over Taylor's howl. "I---"
"I'll be right there."
Dax paced while he waited, holding a sobbing Taylor. When Amber finally appeared, he could have kissed her. "What have I done to her?"
Amber shook her head and took the baby.
Immediately, the baby hiccuped and stopped crying.
The silence was deafening.
Amber continued to sooth her with a wordless murmur, patting her gently on the back. While Dax stared in amazement, Taylor started making loud, smacking noises with her lips, her little hands fisted in Amber's blouse.
She sounded like a starving kitten.
"She can't be hungry," he said in disbelief. "I gave her a bottle. She refused to even look at it."
"Well..." Amber looked everywhere but at him. "The bottle isn't what she wants."
"She doesn't want---Oh. Oh," he said, understanding finally dawning. "She wants breast milk." He laughed, the relief so overwhelming he could hardly stand. "But she's taken formula from me before."
"I told you, she's a bit fickle."
He grinned, now that he could breathe again. "Stubborn as hell, you mean. Gee, I guess she got that from both sides, huh? Here..." Leading Amber to a chair, he backed up a few steps and waited for her to satisfy his obviously starving daughter.
Amber just looked at him.
Taylor, frustrated, turned even redder in the face and let loose with her piercing cries.
"Hurry!" Lord, how could such a small, adorable bundle of baby make so much noise? "Damn, she's got a set of lungs on her."
Amber undid her blouse, then hesitated.
Dax had been staring at Taylor's mottled face, but when Amber didn't make a move, he lifted his gaze.
It caught on the strip of creamy skin she'd revealed from throat to belly. Just like that, his body temperature rose ten degrees.
"I can't do this while you watch, Dax."
It didn't matter if she breast-fed in front of him. Not when he had a good imagination, and it was off and racing now. It didn't take much to picture her peeling the material away from her flesh, exposing one softly rounded breast. The nipple would pucker and tighten, and when Taylor pulled her mouth away, the tip would be wet and swollen.
At the thought, he went weak in the knees. Disgusted with himself, he turned and left the office, going in search of a glass of very cold water.
A cold shower might have been more effective.
No matter how much he didn't want to have feelings for this woman who'd ripped him apart, he did, and that confused him. He wasn't used to being confused where women were concerned.
He could tell himself that this deep attraction was due to Taylor, but that would be a big, fat lie. Already he loved Taylor with all his heart.
But Amber was a separate deal entirely. He'd forgiven her, yes. But he didn't want to forget.
THE NEXT TIME Amber came to the station to pick up the baby, her face was drawn. She was even more quiet and guarded than usual. She offered Dax one unreadable glance and went directly to Taylor, who was lying on a blanket and happily chewing on her own sleeve.
"Hey, baby," she whispered, her face lighting up with the smile Dax had never, not once, seen directed at him.
Taylor wriggled with joy.
"Well, you lived through it," Amber said to Dax over her shoulder.
"What about Taylor?"
"I wasn't concerned." She paused. "You're a good father."
"A compliment, Amber?"
Her spine stiffened. "No, just fact. Taylor can be a lot of work."
"You're not saying my daughter is a handful, are you?"
Amber turned and looked at him, lifting a brow at his teasing tone. Her gaze swept his office, taking in the full wastebasket, the sagging diaper bag, the baby paraphernalia scattered around the room.
And in the corner, at Amber's feet, was the happily babbling, little handful herself.
In her well-fitted power suit, Amber kneeled on the floor and tickled Taylor's tummy. "So how was it, sweetie? Did you have a good time?"
Taylor responded with a big grin and some drool.
"Should have seen her," Dax told her. "She was in high form today. Spit up on the fire chief."
Amber's smile widened as she watched Taylor. "Did you torture your daddy today, sweetie? Did you? Tell me you did."
What tortured Dax now was Amber herself. She wasn't a tall woman, but she had legs to die for. And with her bent over as she was, he got quite an eyeful, up to midthigh. He wondered if those sheer, silky looking stockings ended at the top of those incredible legs, like the ones she'd been wearing on the day of the earthquake.
Oblivious, Amber leaned even closer to Taylor, nuzzling at the baby's neck. Taylor squealed in delight.
Dax swallowed hard, because while he'd felt every inch of Amber's body that fateful day so long ago, he'd never really seen her, and he'd certainly never gotten such a great view of the most mouthwatering, perfectly rounded rear end in town.
"She looks good," Amber said of the baby.
"So do you." The words popped out before he could stop them, but even when Amber whirled in shock and stared at him, he smiled, refusing to take them back.
"That was...inappropriate," she said primly.
"No doubt. It was also the truth."
As if realizing the suggestiveness of her position, she got up carefully, managing to keep her skirt from rising any further. No ungraceful scrambling for this woman, nope she remained cool as ice.
"You were looking at me."
The words were spoken evenly, yet with such surprise, Dax had to laugh. "And is that so hard to believe?"
"Men don't usually look at me that way." She glanced away. "Never, actually."
Odd how she could appear so strong, yet so utterly vulnerable at the same time. "Then they're blind. You're beautiful, Amber."
She searched his gaze, clearly wondering if he was still teasing her.
"Just looking at you makes me think of hot kisses and stolen touches."
She blushed. Blushed. So, the cool woman could be shaken. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said, anything but. "I'm being inappropriate again, aren't I?"
"You know you are." Tough facade back in place, she walked the room, passed the piles of work on his desk, passed the additional piles that had simply overflowed to the floor. He'd vacuumed before setting Taylor down, so the vacuum cleaner was still in the corner. His coat, which had fallen from the rack, lay crumpled in a heap. His boots were sprawled on the floor, discarded after his last inspection. So was the bag his lunch had come in, from his favorite hamburger joint.
"You're a pig," she said lightly, scooping up his jacket and placing it on a hook.
He wondered at the gesture. Was it because she cared, or because she cared that Taylor was in such a messy room? "Talk to your daughter. She's been a busy girl today."
A small smile crossed her lips. But Dax could see past the exterior, past that cool defense she wore like a coat. Deep in thought, he stared at her.
"What?" she asked when he came close. She didn't fidget like normal women, so she didn't pat her hair or look herself over for flaws. But her eyes chilled in response to his silent study. "What are you staring at?"
Dax knew how to soothe a woman, but he had the feeling the usual compliments and flirtations wouldn't work with Amber. She was different. Very different. Her dark, gorgeous eyes looked bruised, rimmed with light purple. Her mouth, carefully painted, was tight, pinched. And those shoulders, the ones that seemed to be strong enough to carry the burdens of the entire world, were strained, as if the weight had become too heavy.
"Stop looking at me like that," she demanded.
"Like what?"
"Like...you're hungry, or something."
Oh yeah, he was hungry. For her. How long, he wondered, would it take a man to dig under those walls? To find the real Amber, the one who'd had the guts to have a child by herself, the one he knew would protect that child with everything she had?
"Why are you still staring at me?"
Because she looked exhausted. Because she was a puzzle he couldn't put together. Because he couldn't seem to help himself. Backing her to a chair, he applied pressure on her arm until she sat.
"I don't have time to sit." Her voice was weary. "I still have to run to the grocery store, pick up the dry-cleaning and then when I get home, I have a report---" Carefully, she closed her mouth and in a rare gesture of emotion, ran her hands over her eyes. "I have no idea why I'm telling you all of this."
"Because you're too tired. If you weren't, you wouldn't say a word, you'd handle it all. Alone, most likely. But we're a unit now, Amber. You should be able to vent."
"And that means you'll vent, too, I suppose."
"If I need to, yes."
She looked so genuinely unsettled that he wondered what her definition of vent was. "How about I keep Taylor while you do your errands? She's fine here, the guys come in every two seconds just to look at her anyway. She'll be entertained. I'll bring her home to you later."
"I can't take advantage that way."
"Amber." He came from a family of touchers. It seemed perfectly natural for him to lift a hand and touch her cheek. And if he enjoyed the feel of her soft skin so much that he left his fingers there for an instant longer than he'd planned, what did it matter? He was just trying to comfort.
Okay, maybe it was more complicated than that, but he wasn't ready to go there.
And besides, she backed away.
"Why do you do that?" he wondered. "Shy away from touch?"
"I don't like to be touched."
"You did once."
A delicious shade of red colored her face. "I should make it clear to you," she said in that prim voice he was perversely beginning to enjoy. "I'm not being coy here. I acted...wild with you then. I'm not going to do it again."
"Are you thinking wild is a bad thing?"
She looked at him steadily.
"Or that I don't respect you?"
Still, just that look. Damn, she brought new meaning to the word stubborn. "What happened between us was spontaneous, yes," he agreed. "Hot, most definitely. Even wild. But Amber, it was as necessary at that moment as breathing, you have to remember that much."
"It wasn't necessary."
He'd have liked to prove her wrong, right there on the floor of his office. He had no doubt he could do it. She had passion and heat simmering just beneath her surface, all he had to do was set fire to it. The way they kissed, it should only take two seconds.
But he wouldn't, because he didn't like how easily he'd come to forgive her, and he sure as hell didn't like the way he yearned for her, even now. "Even before I knew about Taylor, I wanted to see you again."
"Of course you did. I slept with you after only knowing you an hour."
"Are you talking about when we made love?"
"Sex," she said calmly enough, but the words came out her teeth. "We had sex."
"That's not how I remember it." He smiled wickedly, figuring her imagination could taunt her with exactly what he was remembering. It would serve her right, since he'd been doing nothing but remembering.
"I acted cheaply. I don't like thinking about it."
"Cheap?" he asked incredulously, oddly hurt. "That's the last thing that comes to my mind when I think of that day." She turned away but he took her arms, forcing her to look at him. "God, Amber, we were terrified. We thought we were going to die. We needed to feel hope. We needed to feel alive, and we did, in each other's arms. How could you have forgotten all that?"
She might have pushed away, but he held her still. "No, listen to me." Somehow it had become critical to him that she not regret what they'd shared. "You didn't betray yourself that day, it just happened. And it was...right. Very right, dammit."
Her tortured look faded somewhat. "It gave me Taylor," she said quietly.
"It gave us Taylor," he corrected. "And I'll never forget it."
They stared at each other, so close that he could have leaned forward a fraction and kissed her soft, very kissable lips, but he didn't. Much as his body ached for hers, she'd burned him before, and he wasn't interested in getting burned again. "And as for tonight. You're not taking advantage, I offered. I'll even bring dinner."
"Why?"
"You know, all that mistrust is getting really old."
"I'm not mistrustful."
He laughed. "Granted, it's well hidden behind that sophisticated, sleek business front, but it's there."
"Why are you bringing me dinner?"
"See? Right there. Mistrust."
She rolled her eyes.
"I'm bringing dinner because I'll be hungry."
"Oh." She thought about it and started to give him a suspicious look, which she quickly squelched. "I suppose that would be all right."
"Good." He'd have shown up whether she liked it or not. If he knew his little daughter, and he was beginning to know her quite well, he figured Amber hadn't had a hot meal or a decent night's sleep in over three months. That was going to change.
"Go on," he said, pulling her up, nudging her to the door. "We'll see you later." Then he ushered her out before she could gather her wits to resist, which he knew she would have done if she hadn't been dead on her feet.
When she was gone, Dax turned to Taylor, hands on hips, a mock frown on his face. "You've been tiring out your parents," he said, picking her up and holding her close.
Taylor gummed a wet smile.
"It's got to stop. You hear me?"
She let out a sweet little giggle.
Dax kissed her noisily, making her wriggle with delight, which in turn warmed his heart in ways he'd never imagined.
He couldn't fathom being without her.
He was beginning to understand he felt the same way about her mother.
DAX ARRIVED at Amber's condo at exactly 7:07 p.m. with Taylor in one arm and dinner in the other. Not that Amber had been pacing, watching the clock for the past hour and a half.
She reached for Taylor and squeezed her so tight the baby mewled in protest. Amber couldn't help herself; she'd missed Taylor so much. She kissed the baby's nose and then her face, and then nearly leaped out of her skin at the sexy, unbearably familiar voice behind her.
"I'll take one of those."
Slowly, she turned. "You'll take one of what?"
"A kiss."
Her tummy fluttered. "Hmph."
He grinned, and the butterflies in her stomach took wing. What was it about him? He should have hated her. Or at the very least, still been furious. That he wasn't, and that he looked at her in a way that both confused her and made her...hot, was greatly disturbing.
"Hungry?" he asked, lifting a bag from a local deli.
"It's my father's birthday," she said slowly, her mouth watering at the smell coming from the brown bag. "I was going to call him."
"Call him. See if he'll join us."
He wouldn't, Amber knew that. But she found she couldn't admit any such thing to Dax. So, as he watched her with that quiet intensity of his, she picked up the phone and dialed the number.
"Hello, Dad," she said calmly when her father answered, as if her heart hadn't leaped into her throat at the sound of his voice after so long. "I wanted to wish you happy birthday."
Her voice was steady. Steady was important, even if she was so nervous she felt as though she might shatter at any moment. "I was also hoping you'd come for dinner and meet your granddaughter."
"Not likely," came the voice that had ruled her childhood. "Not when her mother is a slut."
Dax moved closer, but she held the phone tight to her ear so he couldn't hear. "I'm sorry you're still upset with me, but there's no need for it." She hesitated, then said softly, "I'm not like Mom. Really, I'm not."
"Did you marry that baby's father?"
"M-marry?" She glanced at Dax over her shoulder and found him still looking right at her. "Uh...no." With a carefully blank face, she pointed to the living room, gesturing him away. Anywhere, as long as he was far from her and this conversation.
Dax just settled back and lifted a brow.
With a sound of impatience, Amber covered the phone. "Go," she whispered.
"Maybe I should have extended the invite," he murmured. And then he grabbed the phone right out of her hands.
"Give that back!"
"Not yet." He held the phone out of her reach before bringing the receiver to his ear. He had to use his other hand to hold Amber off, but he did so with no problem, slipping one strong, warm arm around her. His forearm banded across her back, his fingers came to just above her rib cage, holding her stronger than a vise.
All she could think was that his fingers were pressed against the curve of her breast. Unbelievably, because she hated being restrained, her nipples tightened. Her breath quickened.
As if he could tell, Dax looked down into her face, his own breath coming a little faster.
"Give me the phone, Dax," she murmured.
His fingers spread wide and brushed the underside of her left breast.
She melted a little. "Now."
He shook his head. "Hello," he said politely into the phone, his fingers driving her to distraction. "I'm Daxton McCall, Taylor's father."
Amber groaned. Her father had never approved of her, and this wasn't going to help. He was convinced she led a wild, out-of-control lifestyle, and very likely, this conversation would confirm it.
She shouldn't care that she disappointed him, but she did, and still, to this day, wished she could make everything right, wished that her father missed his own flesh and blood the way she missed having a family.
"I'm taking full responsibility for Taylor," Dax said into the phone. "Any questions?" He continued to smile in that easygoing manner as he ruined her life, but Amber could see there was steel lining that smile and he was not kidding around. Dax was deadly serious and more than a little dangerous looking.
"We'd love you to join us tonight," he said. "Oh, you can't? Then how about you and I meet tomorrow, for lunch. I'm in the inspection office, downtown fire station. Yes. You can express all your anger and disappointment, and you can do it with me. Not Amber. Okay? See you then."
Amber gaped at him as he hung up.
"I hate bullies," he said conversationally.
Too late, Amber remembered she didn't gape as a rule. It was, however, much more of a struggle to control herself than usual. She was discovering that was the norm with Dax. "I can't believe he wants to meet you."
"Well he really wants to punch me in the nose, but he'll settle for a good look at me. I'm going to give it to him."
"He was...nice?"
"Let's say he was polite." He smiled. "Definitely curious."
In less than two minutes Dax had gotten the approval from her father that she'd been fighting for all her life.
It was deflating, depressing and demoralizing, not to mention infuriating.
"Amber?"
She was perfectly aware that her fury was illogical, that she was about to direct it toward the wrong person, but she couldn't help herself. "I want you to go now."
"What?" He looked so stunned she nearly laughed, but this wasn't a laughing matter. "Why?"
"I realize you probably don't get a lot of rejections. Consider this a learning experience."
"Amber, listen to me." He took her shoulders in his big hands to see that she did just that. "I can see that you care what he thinks---"
"I don't."
"Of course you do, it's natural." His understanding and compassion were far more than she could take at the moment, but he wouldn't let her move away from him. "I don't want to cause you any grief. That's why I'm going to meet him, to take some of the pressure off of you."
Couldn't he see that just having him in her life was causing grief? Couldn't he see that she needed him to leave, now, before she did something really stupid? Like crying on his broad, capable, oh-so-comfy shoulder? She was alone in this. She wanted to be alone in this. "I'm really tired."
"Oh, baby, I know that one." His smile was warm, sweet, caring. And when he slid his fingers over her cheek as if she was the most important person in his world, her throat burned.
"Why are you doing this? Being nice?"
"Because..." He lifted a shoulder. "It's better than harboring resentment. It feels good. Because I want to. Pick one."
"But---"
"Amber, don't you ever get tired of fighting it?"
"It?"
"It." He stroked her jaw with his thumb, then touched the racing pulse at the base of her throat. "This."
"I...don't know what you're talking about."
His gaze took a leisurely sweep over her body, ending at the straining button between her breasts. On either side, her hard, aching nipples pressed against the material of her blouse. He seemed fascinated by the play of his fingers over her collarbone. "Don't you?" he murmured. "Don't deny it, I can see that you do."
With a huff of vexation, she crossed her arms. "I can't help that."
"I'm glad." His smoldering eyes met hers now. "I'm glad you can't control the attraction between the two of us, it's the only way I know I'm reaching you at all."
To hell with control and finesse. To hell with appearances. Screw all of it, she needed him gone, now, before she made a complete fool of herself and tore her clothes off, and then his. She marched to the front door and opened it. "Good night, Dax."
He frowned, though whether at her husky voice or her abruptness, she didn't know.
"Look, it's nothing personal," she assured him. "It's just that I've had enough of men running my life, manipulating me, and deciding what's right for me."
He went very still. "And you think that's what I'm doing?"
"Aren't you? You want me to share Taylor---"
"She's mine, too, Amber. Get it through that pretty, thick head of yours." He cupped her face in his hands, tipping it up to meet his intense gaze. His fingers on her skin made her knees knock together. So did looking at his lips and she wondered, totally inappropriately, if he kissed her now, would she melt as she had a year ago?
Probably.
Definitely.
Which was another reason to get him out of here, quickly. But he wasn't budging, his big body was a stubborn brick wall she couldn't move.
"I hate it that you shy away from me, from the connection between us," he said.
She swallowed at the real glimpse of pain she saw in his eyes. Dammit, did he have to be so sensitive, so open and warm, so...perfect? "I don't feel any particular connection."
He set his hand to the base of her throat, let his fingers once again slide against the skin where her pulse beat wildly. "Liar," he chided softly.
"Good night, Dax."
He stared at her for one long moment, then walked to the door.
A small voice inside her head told her he was right. She was a liar. She wanted him to stay, wanted him to seduce her.
Or maybe she'd seduce him. It was mortifying to realize how close she was to letting her hormones run her, just as her mother had.
"You'll dream of me," he said.
She had a feeling he was right, but she shut the door and bolted it. Then she stood there for a moment, touching the door as if it were him.
Her body sizzled. Sizzled. A mother wasn't supposed to sizzle! She didn't want this. It would never work, not under these circumstances, not under the best of circumstances. Still, she nearly whipped the front door open again.
Instead, she went into the kitchen and ate as if she was still pregnant, refusing to feel guilty for eating a good portion of Dax's food, too.
Later, after she took care of Taylor, she went to bed and tried to forget how fiercely Dax had defended her to her father. Tried to forget how good it had felt, for that one little second, to depend on someone other than herself.
And damn him, just like he'd said, she dreamed of him.
7
AMBER WOKE UP rumpled, still exhausted and haunted by visions of a starving Dax.
In the light of day she had to laugh at herself. So she'd eaten his dinner. He was a pretty capable guy, certainly he'd managed.
She got out of bed and checked on Taylor, who was still fast asleep. Grateful, she took the baby monitor and headed for the shower. Afterward, warm and steamy and still wet, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. It was rare to spend any time really looking at herself, especially naked, but she looked now.
Somehow, when she hadn't been paying attention, she'd lost most of the baby fat she'd accumulated during her pregnancy. Still, her hips were fuller. Her belly was no longer concave, but softly rounded. And her breasts...they weren't the simple, unobtrusive A-cup they'd always been, but two full sizes larger. Just looking at them made her wonder.
What did Dax think of her body now?
Even as she thought it, she blushed. She knew he saw something he liked, because whenever she looked at him unexpectedly, she caught him watching her with a wild, hot intensity that made her hot right back. She tried to pretend she didn't notice, but in the deep of the night she often thought about what they did to each other.
She'd been rude to him last night, inexcusably rude. He had no idea why, couldn't possibly understand how she was letting her past guide her. For most of her childhood, she'd blindly obeyed her father. She'd followed orders, squelched her need for a feminine role model and had done whatever it took to please the man.
Opinions hadn't been encouraged.
As a result, she was naturally inhibited. Being quiet and unobtrusive had been necessary for survival, as had keeping thoughts and emotions to herself. They were habits she'd carried into adulthood.
Now she was fiercely independent, and she liked it that way. Few, if any, had penetrated her protective shell.
Dax had, though, and it was scary stuff.
She dressed, then took Taylor next door to her babysitter, Mrs. Chapman. The woman was sixty-five and spry as a woman half her age, even if she spent her days wearing formal velvet dresses and watching soap operas. She loved Taylor with all her heart, which was enough for Amber.
On the drive to Dax's office, Amber practiced her breathing techniques and concentrated hard on calm images, but all she could think about was that one day they'd spent together, so long ago.
He would have done anything to protect her that day, and so far she'd paid him back by hiding his daughter from him and being as rude and hard to be with as possible. Something had to give, and she wasn't sure it could be her. But she had to try.
She was climbing the steps of the station, her apology on her lips, picturing a miserable and hungry Dax, when he came out.
He had a woman on each arm, and he was smiling---grinning actually---looking happy, confident, strikingly handsome and not even remotely miserable.
The bastard. The least he could have done was to look hungry.
The women were smiling, too, also looking happy, confident and strikingly handsome.
Any urge to apologize vaporized.
Wishing she could disappear into a great big black hole, Amber faltered, but of course it was too late to run. She was out in the open, only a few steps below them. Any second, he was going to notice her.
If he ever took his eyes off the other women, that is. "Oh Dax," simpered the tall, thin, gorgeous blonde on his left. "This has been a long time coming."
"I know. You've been so patient." Dax smiled into her eyes. "Work's been a bear."
"All I want to know is, are you going to make the wait worthwhile?" The redhead on his right lifted a suggestive brow, making promises with her eyes that made Amber roll hers.
"Absolutely," Dax told her, still smiling.
"Good. Because..." The blonde leaned close and whispered something in his ear.
His eyebrows shot straight up.
"No secrets," pouted the redhead, pressing her lush curves against Dax.
He smiled at her, too, his eyes heavy and slumberous.
Amber gritted her teeth. They were almost on top of her now, and he was so busy with bimbette-one and bimbette-two that he hadn't even seen her!
This was the man she pictured as miserable all night because of her rudeness? Ha!
Since she couldn't disappear into thin air, she would have to handle this as she would any uncomfortable situation, with her famed, icy control. "Good morning, Dax," she said, ever so proud of her cool voice. She only hoped he couldn't see the steam coming out of her ears.
"Amber." He stopped short, clearly surprised. "Hello."
Amber didn't want to think about how his smile suddenly warmed, or how this time it reached his eyes. No, she didn't want to think about that, or she'd lose her anger. Anger was good here, anger would get her through. "You look awfully busy this morning."
He dropped his hold on his playmates and looked suddenly panicked. "Taylor. There's nothing wrong with her..."
Well darn if that fierce worry in his expression didn't defuse a good part of her temper. "No, Taylor is fine." But since she wouldn't apologize now, she needed another reason for her appearance. Frantically she searched her mind and came up with...nothing. "I was just out for a walk and thought I'd say hello. So...hello." Forcing a smile, she turned away.
"Wait."
She didn't, couldn't.
"Amber?"
She couldn't get away fast enough, and behind her, she heard him swear.
"Amber, wait---"
Then he was there, alone, taking her arm and turning her back to face him. "Just out for a walk?" He shook his head. "Come on, Amber. What's this really about?"
For some idiotic reason, her throat closed. "I told you. I'm just walking."
He shot a doubtful look at her heels. "In those?"
Cool. Calm. That was the ticket. "Are my shoes a problem for you?"
"Not for me." He smiled angelically. "That's a pretty suit."
"Thank you."
"Personally, that short skirt could quickly become a favorite of mine, but it seems a waste to exercise in it."
Dignity, she reminded herself. Keep it. "I always walk before work. It's terrific exercise."
His look was long and knowing. "This place is at least twelve miles from your place."
"I'm in excellent shape." She glanced at the women still waiting for Dax. They had rich curves and fabulous bodies, and she found her temper again. "For a woman who's just had a baby, anyway."
"That you most definitely are." He ran a finger over her perfectly-in-place hair. "You sure look great for someone who's walked so far. Oh, and look at that..." He gestured to her car, parked on the street only fifteen feet away. "How in the world did that get here? Don't tell me it's trained to follow you on your morning constitutional."
"Very funny."
He grinned. She should have known better. For whatever reason, there was no controlling herself around him. "Glad I'm such a source of amusement for you. I have to go now."
"Like you did last night?"
Last night. The reason she'd come. "I'll talk to you later." No way was she going to apologize in front of an audience. "When you're not so...busy."
It was as if he could see right through her. "I'm not too busy for you." He reached for her hand. His voice was low so that only she could hear it. Only problem, the exciting, rough timbre of it sent tingles down her spine. "What's the matter, Amber? Can't you tell me?"
It was hard, she discovered, to feel his hands on her. She liked the warmth in them too much. Liked how important she felt. How special.
That she could actually let herself depend on that warmth and strength scared her.
He scared her.
Then she remembered the women. "You visiting with your sisters?" she asked casually, not wanting to publicly misjudge him again, as she had in the medical center.
Was that a flash of guilt that crossed his face as he glanced at them over his shoulder? "Ah...no. Not today."
Okay, then. "Gotta go."
"Wait---"
But she couldn't, she just couldn't.
DAX WATCHED Amber escape. His obligation, in the form of four fine legs behind him, burned. Not that Amber would have believed him if he'd told her.
Hell, half of the people he knew wouldn't believe him.
He glanced over his shoulder at the two women. In response, they both waved and giggled. Skin shimmered. Breasts jiggled.
Dax groaned, but the decision was actually easy. He raced after Amber, catching her just as she unlocked her car.
"Amber."
She glared at him.
"Come on, baby---"
She went rigid. "I am most definitely not your baby. Check with the two women waiting for you. I'm sure either of them would swoon at the opportunity to be called by such an endearing term."
He had no idea why he found her stiff unyielding attitude so wildly appealing, or why he suddenly felt like grinning. "Just listen to me, that's all I'm asking."
"I'm in a hurry."
Oh yeah, she was in a hurry. But she'd come to him. And he wanted to know why. "Please?" He risked touching her again, running his fingers up and down her arm. He couldn't seem to help himself, he had to have that connection.
She went completely still. Nothing gave her away, but he just knew she responded to his touch. He looked into her inscrutable face and wished she'd show him how she really felt, wished he didn't have to guess. "About the women..."
"Uh-huh."
"I know what you're probably thinking."
"I doubt it." She sighed. "Dax, really. You don't have to explain why you're going on a date, much less why you're doing it in the morning, with two women. It's none of my business."
"It's not a date."
The two women, apparently tired of waiting, came down the stairs. The redhead smiled at Amber. "We won him in an auction." She smiled wickedly. "He's ours for the rest of the day."
"It's true." The blonde smiled, almost licking her lips in anticipation. "We can do whatever we want with him, we were promised."
Together, they grinned.
Unbelievably, Dax felt himself blush. "The auction was a long time ago," he said quickly. "And I've been too busy to meet my obligation---" This wasn't going well, he could tell by the ice in Amber's gaze. "It was to raise money for the fire stations on the west side," he added. "All the guys did it."
"But you brought in the most money," the redhead added helpfully.
"Did he now?" Amber asked coolly.
"Uh...Ladies, I'll be with you in just a moment, okay?"
Thank God they took the hint and backed off, giving him and Amber some desperately needed privacy. Only problem, he didn't have a clue as to what to say.
Amber slid on a pair of mirrored sunglasses and got into her car. "Sounds like you're in for quite a day, Dax. I'd say be good, but I already know you will be."
SOMEHOW DAX managed to escape Ginger and Cici's clutches relatively unscathed. It was mid-day by the time he did it, though. Ignoring his stacked messages and overworked secretary, he drove straight to Amber's office.
He couldn't explain his urgency or why, for the first time in the ten years he'd been participating in the bachelor auction fund-raiser, he resented the time he'd spent. All day he'd yearned to be somewhere else.
He'd wanted to be with Taylor. And okay, maybe with Amber, too, but that made no sense. Still, he couldn't get to her office fast enough, couldn't wait to try to soothe her ruffled feathers. And her feathers had most definitely been ruffled, whether she admitted it or not.
Suddenly that thought made him grin, and he loped up the stairs to the building where she worked.
Amber's secretary explained she was in a meeting and couldn't be disturbed. Dax gave her his most charming smile, but she didn't budge. Around him, the office buzzed with new listings, new sales and the general excitement of a place on the move.
Dax waited until the secretary picked up a phone before he simply strode past her desk toward Amber's closed door.
"Hey," the woman called out, "you can't just---"
Dax let himself into Amber's office and carefully shut the door on her secretary's protests.
Amber was behind her desk, a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose, a pencil in her mouth, a phone to her ear. Her eyes were even, her hands steady, her every hair in place. She'd shed the power jacket, but the white blouse she wore was wrinkle-free, prim and proper.
Somewhere beneath that icy control lay the passion he remembered so well. He'd caught a tiny glimpse of it that morning, behind her cool facade. She'd been mad as hell at him, and mad as hell at herself for feeling that emotion in the first place.
Dax grinned again.
At the sight of him, her carefully painted mouth tightened, but that was the only outward sign he received. She didn't rush, and when she was done with her phone call, she slowly set down her pencil, removed her glasses and looked at him. "Back so soon?" Her voice was smooth and very polite. "I would have thought Barbie and Sunshine would keep you tied up for hours."
"Ginger and Cici," he corrected. "And though they were very...persuasive, I managed to escape."
"Hmmm." She bent to her work, but her knuckles went white on the pencil she gripped. "I bet."
"And how was your day?" he inquired conversationally, sitting uninvited on a chair in front of her desk.
"Busy." She glanced at him pointedly. "Still is."
Ah, the cold shoulder. "You probably didn't miss me one little bit, did you?"
"Not one little bit," she agreed.
He couldn't help it, he laughed.
Her eyes chilled several degrees. "If you don't mind..."
"Amber." He controlled himself, but the smile remained. "Admit it, you're jealous as hell."
Aghast, she stared at him. "You've been drinking."
"I don't drink."
"Then you're delusional." She leaned forward. "Just so you know, I never get jealous. Certainly not over a nitwit who enjoys dating brainless---"
"Careful," he said, laughing again. "You might prove my point."
She was still for a long beat. Then regally she rose and pointed an elegant finger at the door. "I think you should leave."
"So you can recapture that famous control?" He rose, too, and came around her desk. "I don't think so. Watching your temper rise is fascinating, Amber. In fact, everything about you is fascinating."
She shook her head, her composure slipping enough to show her genuine confusion. "I don't know what you want from me."
"Lots. But I'll start with this." He hauled her into his arms and kissed her. It was a stupid move, uncalculated as it was genuine, but he didn't stop.
She went still as stone, but didn't push him away. Taking that for permission, he dove into her sweet mouth, mating his tongue to hers, giving, urging, pouring everything he had into that kiss until he felt her hands open on his shoulders, then grab fistfuls of his shirt.
"Yeah, now that's what I've wanted all damn day," he whispered. "That and this..." He kissed her again, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her closer, then closer still.
With a little murmur of acquiescence that made him even hotter, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back until he couldn't remember his name, much less his point.
When the kiss ended, he murmured in her ear.
"The women meant nothing to me," he said. "It was an obligation, one I made months ago." Lifting his head, he looked into her eyes. "They paid big bucks. Money that will be well spent." He kissed her again. The helpless sounds of arousal she made were the most erotic he'd ever heard. "Be jealous, Amber. Wish you could take their place if you want. Kiss me stupid again if it helps. But please, don't be mad at me anymore."
She touched her wet mouth, looking shell-shocked, as if she couldn't believe how she'd lost herself. "I'm not angry," she whispered and sank into her chair. "I need to work now."
She needed to think, he realized, and he would let her because that was how she worked, and he didn't intend to rush her.
Hell, he didn't want to rush himself.
Leaning in close, he gave her one last kiss, pleased to feel her cling to him for just a second.
He was half out of her office when she called him. Turning, he looked at her over his shoulder.
"I wasn't jealous," she told him. "Much." Her mouth curved as she offered him a smile, and Dax felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders.
8
THAT NIGHT, arms full of her briefcase, a diaper bag, dinner and Taylor, Amber let herself into her condo. Her feet were killing her and so was the whirlwind her life had become.
Going back to work had been good for her self-esteem because she was still good at it. She needed the money, too, having depleted her savings over the past year in Mexico. But balancing her wild hours with her newfound motherhood was much tougher than she could have imagined.
Naturally, before she could set a thing down, the phone rang. Dropping her purse and dinner to the counter, she freed up a hand to grab it.
"Let's start all over."
The low, sexy voice liquefied her bones. "Excuse me?"
"I want to start over," Dax said.
Amber settled the phone between her jaw and shoulder, and kicked off her heels. "From where?"
"From the beginning, but I'd settle for the night I brought you dinner. Was it good by the way?"
Amber placed Taylor in her swing. Her jacket hit a chair and relieved of all her weight, she sagged against the counter. "I suppose I should apologize for that. But yes, it was good." She paused. "So was yours."
Dax laughed softly and the sound vibrated through her body, pooling in certain erogenous spots she rarely thought about.
"I like a woman with a healthy appetite."
She thought about the smile she could hear in his voice and wondered if all the women he rescued fell for him. Probably, she admitted.
But she was above such things.
"How was lunch with my father?" she asked, purposely hardening herself. "I never got to ask you."
"Your father is a single-minded, opinionated, walking, talking ego."
"Tell me something I don't know."
"Okay...You care what he thinks of you."
How was it that he went directly to the heart of the matter every time? And how was it that she let him?
"He's also stubborn as hell," he said. "Just like his daughter."
Amber laughed, then shook her head at herself. Distance, she reminded herself. She needed to keep her distance.
Never an easy thing with this man.
She set a sleepy Taylor in motion by gently pushing the swing. "Is this why you called, to list my failings?"
"I grew up with five sisters, I know better than to list a woman's failings. But I could give you a full list of your positive attributes if you'd like. I have a most excellent memory."
Her breath caught. Laughter faded, replaced by a needy emptiness she didn't want to face. "It was a long time ago. It's best forgotten."
"I'll never forget."
Her hand stilled on Taylor's swing. "You think about sex far too much."
"Well I'm red-blooded, aren't I?"
"Yeah." He most definitely was.
"But I've told you, it was far more than just sex. Let me prove it to you."
His voice alone could convince her. She could only be thankful he wasn't here in person to add his smile, his eyes, his incredible hands to the magic.
With a sigh, she set a kettle of water on the stove. She needed tea, her own personal comfort drink. "What did you want, Dax?"
"To talk."
About their kiss? About the fact she'd nearly let it go much further than a kiss? "About?" she asked cautiously.
"Lots of stuff."
Could he really have called just to talk? With her?
"But let's start with your father."
Her stomach clenched. Of course not.
"He'd like to see Taylor sometime. I told him that was entirely up to you."
"I've offered to take her to him before," she said coolly.
"He wasn't ready. He is now."
"I suspect you had a great deal to do with that."
"I thought you'd be happy."
She should be, should also be grateful, but instead she only resented the fact that Dax had accomplished overnight what she hadn't been able to do it in a year's time. "I'll think about it," she said, knowing she sounded prim, polite. Difficult.
"Fair enough," he said, accepting her answer so quickly she felt suspicious.
With good reason.
"I have another favor. This one's a toughie."
She'd nearly forgotten to be leery of him! How had he done this to her, gotten her to actually almost trust him? "I don't care to be pushed into a decision about seeing my father."
"My favor has nothing to do with your father. I wanted you and Taylor to come with me to a barbecue tomorrow night. At my parents."
She blinked and drew a careful breath as her brain struggled to shift gears. "Why?"
"I don't know, maybe because you're the mother of my child?" He laughed at her silence. "It's not a death sentence. You go, you eat, you smile, you laugh---Wait...it doesn't hurt you to laugh, does it?"
"Sometimes." But she did it anyway as she sat at her table. "I'm sorry. I thought...well, never mind."
"You thought I was going to railroad you into doing something you don't want to do."
Yes.
"For the record," he said, his voice solemn now. "I would never, never, do that."
"Never is a long time, Dax."
"Yes."
"What will happen if we disagree about something?"
"What do you mean?"
She bounced up again, stalked the length of her kitchen. "You'll expect me to do things your way."
"Haven't you ever heard of give-and-take?"
"You expect me to believe you'll let me do things my way?"
"Yes! Look, I know I don't hold back much. I have a wide range of emotions, and I'm afraid I have a temper, too." His voice gentled, became disturbingly intimate. "But I'd never hurt you, Amber. It's not a stretch for me to make that promise. It shouldn't be a stretch for anyone to make you that promise."
"Yeah well, you'd be surprised."
"I wish we were having this conversation in person. So that I could touch you while I tell you all this."
Heat, the kind he always seemed to cause within her, warmed her from head to toe. "That's...probably not wise."
"When I touch you, you let down that guard. When I kiss you, you let go even more. You let me see the real you."
She took a deep breath because suddenly she couldn't seem to get enough air, but the yearning deep inside her didn't fade.
"I like that real you, Amber."
She let out a disparaging sound and sat down again. "I never know what to say to you."
"Say you believe me. That you believe in us."
"There is no us."
As if he heard her panic, he softened his voice even more. "Us as in Taylor's parents."
"That's all."
"That's the most important," he agreed. "For now. You and Taylor, you can depend on me, Amber. That's a promise, and I've never broken one yet."
No one had ever made her a promise and kept it.
"What do you think, Amber? Can I pick you and Taylor up tomorrow night. At six? You'll have a great time."
"Another promise."
"Absolutely."
She swallowed hard, fighting her vulnerability with every ounce of strength she possessed. It helped to glance over and see Taylor sleeping peacefully. Happy and content. "Tomorrow, then," she whispered, and hung up before Dax could question the quiver in her voice.
Drawing in a deep, cleansing breath, Amber beat back her emotions. It was a lifelong habit.
Then she fought her fears the best way she knew how, with food. Lots of it.
THE NEXT NIGHT, at nearly six o'clock, Amber stood in a bra and panties contemplating her closet. She'd been looking at her wardrobe for an embarrassing hour now. "A barbecue," she muttered.
What did one wear to such an event?
Jeans, she decided, with a shrug that would have told anyone watching that she couldn't care less.
But she did care, too much. She wanted to look good for a man she hadn't wholly decided to let herself care for.
She slipped into the jeans and stared at herself. They were too tight, thanks to her just-given-birth-three-months-ago body, but she didn't own a larger size.
Fine, so she wouldn't wear jeans. With another shrug, she yanked them off. But her khakis had some sort of stain on them, one that could be directly related to Taylor. Her wool trousers were far too dressy.
Dressy, she could have handled. But this was a family party. Silk and stockings weren't required.
And wasn't that just the problem?
She tossed her wool trousers over her shoulder to join her other discarded clothing on the floor and stood in front of the mirror. "It's not the clothes," she admitted out loud. It was the evening ahead that had her nerves in a riot.
There.
She'd admitted it.
Her bout of anxiety had nothing to do with where she was going, it was who she was going with.
Dax did this to her, damn him, caused this butterfly dance low in her belly. "And the mess in this room is his fault, too," she decided, looking around at the cyclone she'd wrought. Nearly everything she owned was in a pile on the floor.
The doorbell rang.
She froze. "Oh my God." Galvanized into action, she threw on a denim skirt and shoved her arms into a white button-up, long-sleeved shirt. Last minute panic time was over. She'd have to make do as she was.
Her usually perfectly groomed hair was wild. So were her dark eyes. She had no idea where the flush on her cheeks came from, but it made her look...young. Too young.
And the shirt, good Lord. White had not been the wisest choice, only emphasizing her new bra size.
The doorbell rang again and she dashed out of her room, past the second bedroom where Taylor lay sleeping and down the hall.
Her heart was pounding.
No rush, she told herself, and purposely stopped to draw in a deep, calming breath. She was fine.
Just fine.
When she believed it, when she had some semblance of calm, she opened the door.
And immediately lost it again.
Dax was leaning against the jamb, looking shockingly desirable. He wore jeans and a long-sleeved shirt the exact color of his baby blue eyes.
Those eyes smiled into hers as he leaned close, and any semblance of calm flew right out the window. His scent assaulted her; clean, woodsy, and all male. Then her breath backed up in her throat because he was so close she almost---almost---tipped toward him.
She wanted a kiss.
Startled, she just looked at him, specifically at that mouth that she knew could drive her crazy. No. No kiss, she decided hastily. She couldn't handle it, not now, not when her control was already long gone.
"Hey," he said, moving even closer, and her heart stumbled. His sleepy, heavy-lidded eyes met hers for one long, silent moment.
Please, was her only, suddenly shocking thought. Kiss me.
As if he could hear her, his long lashes lowered over his eyes, his mouth brushed her jaw.
Yes, yes, he was going to do it, thank God, for she wanted that with every fiber of her being. Forget control, forget distance, she wanted his kiss. Now.
Softly, gently, his lips slid over her cheek, nipped at her throat and then...he straightened away from her. "You're here. I thought maybe you'd changed your mind."
"No." She had to clear her throat. "I'm ready. I...just need to get Taylor."
His grin was more than a little wicked. "You're happy to see me."
She managed a laugh. "Not really."
"Another lie." He tsked. "Santa's going to take you off his list." Then he smiled slow and sure. "You wanted me to kiss you."
"In your dreams."
His laugh was just as wicked as his grin. "Oh, you're most definitely in my dreams."
His eyes were so hot, so sure and knowing, she swallowed hard. "I'll get Taylor."
His gaze dipped down to her mouth, then further still, slowly running over her body in a way that might have, if she'd been a weaker woman, left her legs wobbly.
She locked her knees just in case.
"I've never seen you in anything other than a power suit," he said huskily. "I like the change."
She resisted, barely, the urge to tug at her snug shirt.
He reached for her hand. "You know, I'm beginning to think I'm getting the hang of reading your eyes. They're so expressive they give you away, especially right now."
Could he see then, how uncomfortable she was? How self-conscious?
"You look beautiful, Amber," he said, his gaze directly on hers.
Yes, apparently he could.
"I mean it," he said silkily, and for once, she believed him.
THE MCCALL house was packed with smiling, laughing, talking people, not to mention barking dogs and a blaring stereo. Halfway up the walk, Amber faltered. If this had been a business gathering, she would have known exactly what to do and how to act.
But this wasn't a work function. This wasn't a required cocktail party or fund-raiser. It was supposed to be fun.
She didn't do fun very well.
She'd counted on using Taylor as a shield, but Dax had the baby secure in his arms, and she looked so content Amber had little choice but to leave her there.
Through the opened gate to the backyard the party looked to be in full swing. Couples danced, kids played, people talked. Everywhere.
Amber just stared at what seemed like a sea of hundreds, all happy and comfortable and having a good time. "Are all these people your family?"
"And friends."
"It's..." Loud, came to mind, but that seemed rude. Yet she was incapable of coming up with a proper white lie since her stomach was suddenly in her throat. "Different."
"I should tell you now, my family is bossy, nosy and opinionated."
Gee, there was a surprise. "I'm sure I can handle it." But she wasn't sure at all. She had no experience with large families, no experience with families period.
Dax looked at the hand she'd unconsciously placed on her jittery stomach, and placed his own over hers. "They're going to love you, Amber. They're just going to be loud and nosy about it."
The very idea of perfect strangers falling in love with her was as ridiculous as...well, as being at this party.
"They will." He smiled, that special one he seemed to hold in reserve just for her. "Ready?"
"Yes. No. Yes. God. I don't know." It was the twenty-first century, but having a child out of wedlock didn't feel like something to be particularly proud of, no matter what the circumstances.
Would they resent her?
Think that she'd trapped Dax on purpose?
Why had she agreed to this?
"I have no idea what's running through that head of yours," Dax said with a low laugh. "But I promise it isn't going to be half as bad as whatever you're thinking."
"Okay." She straightened her shoulders resolutely. "Let's do it."
Laughing again, Dax shook his head. "It's not a firing squad, either. It's going to be fun." A sigh escaped him when none of the tension left her. "Come on, I can see you're not going to relax until we get it over with."
With Taylor snug and happy in one arm, and his other hand firmly holding hers, he drew them into the fray.
They were immediately surrounded.
"Dax! Let me have that baby!" The woman Amber recognized as Suzette pushed her way to the front and took Taylor into her arms. "Oh, she's beautiful!" She turned a smile on Amber. "Nice to see you again, we're so glad you could come. Dax has told us all about you."
Amber shot a look at Dax, wondering what exactly he'd told them about her.
He just lifted a brow and smiled, leaving her clueless, which she was quite certain he knew she hated.
"Taylor is such a good baby." Suzette sighed dreamily. "I can't wait to see mine." She patted her huge belly. "If he or she ever decides to come on out! I'm two weeks overdue now." She kissed Taylor's little nose.
Another woman pressed close, looking so much like Suzette that Amber blinked.
"Hey there, Dax." The woman kissed him, then leaned over Suzette and kissed Taylor, too. "Hey, sweetie."
Taylor drooled her pleasure and let out her characteristic squeal, which meant, "I like this! Gimme more!"
Everyone laughed.
"Give her to me, Suzette," the new woman said. "She likes me best anyway."
"This is Shelley," Dax informed Amber. "My oldest and most bossy sister."
"Honestly, Dax, you know perfectly well I'm the bossy one." Another blond, beautiful woman pushed her way through the crowd.
"Amy." Dax grinned and endured her bear hug and loud smacking kiss right on the mouth. "And you're right, it's a tie. Amber, this is Amy. The baby of the clan."
"I'm not the baby, you are!" But she smiled widely at Taylor, snatched Taylor from Shelley's arms and reached out an arm to give Amber a brief hug. "Wonderful to meet you, welcome to the family."
Hopelessly awkward and yet unbearably touched at the same time, Amber's heart tied itself into knots. The strange tightness in her chest, the one she associated with Dax, was back. Actually, it hadn't left since she'd first seen him again.
Hormones, she told herself. That's all it was.
"Let me in, let me in!" The woman that pushed her way though this time had definitely been blond before the gray had taken over. She came only to Dax's chest, was twice as wide, and had a face filled with joy and excitement.
She went straight for Taylor. "Let me have that precious little bundle of love! Hand her over to grandma right this instant!"
"That 'precious little bundle' smells to high heaven," Dax warned as Taylor was passed yet again. "She needs to be changed."
"What, like I've never changed a diaper? Yours included."
"Just giving you fair warning, Mom."
"Hey there, precious," she cooed to Taylor, who all but soaked up the attention.
Then Dax's mother turned with an expectant smile to Amber.
"Amber, this is my mother," Dax said. "Emily McCall. And watch out, she's---"
"Happy to meet you," Emily interrupted smoothly. "My goodness, you're lovely! I hope you like meat, you're so thin for just having had a baby! Are you eating enough? Thomas!" she yelled, without waiting for an answer. She gestured wildly to the tall, darkly handsome man working the barbecue. "Thomas, get over here and meet the mother of your newest granddaughter. And bring a fully loaded plate!"
"Oh no, I couldn't---" Amber protested, only to be hushed by Emily.
Thomas arrived, carting food and a pleasant smile. "Hello."
Amber held out her hand. Thomas took it, and then gently drew her in for a warm hug. "Welcome," he said, in the same silky rough voice as his son.
He'd hugged her, was all Amber could think. As if she belonged to the family. The casual, easy, genuine affection startled her. She wanted to somehow savor it, and at the same time, wanted to run for the hills. Hard and fast. "Uh...I've got to---"
"Eat," Emily said smoothly, ignoring the panic that surely they all could see. "She's got to eat. And drink, too." She openly eyed Amber's breasts. "You are breast-feeding that baby I hope."
Heat raced over Amber's cheeks, but before she could reply, Dax broke in. "Mom. You promised."
"So I meddle," she said, tossing her hands up. "I can't help it, it's my job." Then she smiled so warmly, so openly that Amber never saw it coming. "You need some meat on those bones, girl. Never mind Thomas and Dax, I can't trust them to feed you right. Come with me."
At this, both Thomas and Dax grinned, and Amber couldn't help but imagine her own father, and what his reaction to this little, bossy, demanding, nosy, wonderful woman would be.
One thing she'd always secretly admired about her father was his strength. But at that moment, he would have looked at both Dax and Thomas, at the way they allowed Emily to run their lives, and he'd have instantly labeled them as weak, spineless and insignificant.
And yet nothing could have been further from the truth.
Dax and Thomas were confident, strong-willed men. And she knew exactly how stubborn Dax could be. She suspected his father was the same.
Neither man was weak, not by any means. She was beginning to think maybe it took more fortitude than weakness to allow all members of a family to be equal.
Emily smiled innocently as she continued to railroad Amber with all the subtly of a bull in a china shop. "Are you drinking a full glass of water every hour?"
"Oh. Well, I---"
"Maybe you're working too hard. Are you managing to get enough sleep? A baby can be so hard on a mother."
"I told you she was nosy and bossy," Dax said over his mother's head.
"Hush you! I told you to scat." Emily kissed Taylor and passed her back to Dax. "So scat!" Then she took Amber's hand. "You come with me now, honey."
Short of being rude, Amber couldn't resist. She shot a helpless glance over her shoulder at Dax, who just grinned.
No help there.
Then he was swallowed up by the crowd and Amber was left with the petite powerhouse that was Dax's mother.
9
AMBER WAS QUIET on the drive home, thinking about the glimpse she'd had into Dax's world.
She'd seen him playful and teasing with his nieces and nephews. Tolerant and protective of his sisters. Loving and warm with his parents.
Then, without warning, he'd cornered her in the foyer against a wall and had kissed her senseless. By the time he'd lifted his head, smiled wickedly and backed away, she'd nearly melted to the floor.
Who was this man, the one who could go from sweet and nurturing, to shatteringly erotic in a nanosecond? It was a sharp reminder of how different they were, for Amber couldn't imagine letting her emotions run her the way Dax did.
Inside her condo, Amber put a sleeping Taylor in her crib, then occupied herself starting a fire in the living room fireplace.
Dax waited until she had the flames flickering before he tugged her up, turning her around to face him. In an easy show of affection, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled into her eyes. "Hey."
She tried to move back from him because being in such proximity always made thinking difficult, but he held her in a gentle grip of steel. "Hey back," she said, trying to look as if being held by such a gorgeous man was an everyday occurrence.
"Talk to me, Amber."
"About?"
"You."
The way he looked at her, the way he spoke...as if she were the most important person in his life.... It took her breath away.
"You and your family," she said inanely. "You're very close."
"Yes. Very." He cocked his head and studied her. "Is that what's bothering you? That my family gets along?"
"You laugh, you fight, you..."
"Love. Is that it?"
He understood, she could hear it in his voice. Fearing his pity, she couldn't quite meet his gaze.
"I know your father isn't quite the same as mine," he said carefully.
"Nor was my mother the same as yours."
"You've not said much about her," he murmured, still close, still touching. Always touching.
"There's not much to say. She left when I was born." With long-practiced skill, she shrugged. It no longer mattered. It shouldn't matter.
"She missed raising a pretty wonderful daughter."
"I did fine without her."
His eyes were soft and unusually dark. "Yeah. You did. But you shouldn't have had to. You should have had her to talk to, to hold you. To love you."
"Love wasn't a huge priority in my household."
"Another shame, but it's not yours." He lifted her face and studied her until she squirmed. "Are you listening, Amber? Really listening? I get the idea you somehow think it's your fault your parents are jerks."
"No, not jerks. My father never beat me, or forgot to feed me, or anything like that. He took care of me."
"So he gave you the basics. Big deal. Parenthood is a lot harder than that, and you know it. He failed you. Your mother failed you. Your fiancé failed you, and in a way, I've failed you by not being there when you needed me, when you were having Taylor."
"That was hardly your fault," she reminded him.
"Still, I won't fail you again."
He was deadly serious and more than a little intimidating. "I don't want to be a responsibility to you," she said slowly. "I won't have you come to resent me."
"Trust me," he murmured. "It's much more than that." His thumb brushed over her lower lip and when she shivered, his eyes darkened even more. "So you were alone for most of your life with a man who obviously hadn't a clue how to show his emotions. Do you have any idea how amazing your passion is, in spite of all that?"
She laughed, then stopped short when he didn't smile, just looked at her steadily. "I don't think of myself as particularly...passionate."
"No?" His gaze dropped, ran slowly over every inch of her, leaving a rising heat everywhere it touched. "You should."
"I'd like to think I'm not run by such an emotion."
"Ah, and I am." His lips quirked. "Is that it?"
Dammit, she was amusing him. She pushed at his hand, which was still on her face, but he merely tipped up her chin, his long, warm fingers scorching her skin. "Your father told me what he thought of your mother. How he was always afraid you'd be like her."
"I see. The two of you sat around and discussed me."
"You came up a few times."
When she took a step back, he followed, his big hands tender and gentle as he reached for her. "I'm on to you, you know."
She slapped his hands away and stepped back again. "I haven't a clue what you're talking about."
"You're not like her, Amber, you never could be."
Determined to avoid this, she took one more step and hit the wall. "No I'm not, because I'm so careful." Usually. "I've always been, but somehow, with you..." His hands caged her in, her breath backed up in her throat. "Somehow you make me forget to watch myself."
"Really? That's interesting." One of his hands slid down her side now, and since her shirt came to the waistband of her skirt and wasn't tucked in, his fingers slipped under and touched bare skin. "Always so in control." His thumb slid over her belly and she drew in a shaky breath. "And yet not with me. Could you have feelings for me then? Deep ones?" That hand danced around now to her back, and his thumb made a lazy circle very low on her spine, causing a shiver.
The flare of desire in his eyes didn't help. "Dax---"
Those magical fingers played lightly over her tingling flesh. She held her breath when he splayed his big, warm hand over her bottom, pressing her to him so that she could feel his erection.
"You don't want to feel anything for me," he said huskily. "But I feel something for you. Can you feel what I'm feeling, Amber?"
Oh yeah. He was huge, pulsing against her.
"Can you?"
"I...yes." Definitely yes.
"Today scared you."
She stared at him, and he stared back, achingly patient, silently demanding her honesty.
"A little, maybe. All of you. All that passion, all that wild jubilance."
"And all that unpredictability. You don't know what to make of me, do you Amber? Or what to expect?"
"No."
"You hate that."
"Yes." But she looked at his mouth and a part of her burned for it to touch hers, fear be damned, all the while aware of how turned on he was. How turned on she was.
"What's between us is a work in progress," he said. "It can go as you want. You can be in control." He nudged even closer. "Or not."
"Is there really an 'us'?"
"Yeah," Dax whispered huskily, no longer surprised by that very fact. "There's an us." To show her, he took her mouth with his, the promise echoing in his head as he tasted her.
She kissed him back, but then put a shaking hand to his chest. "I'm not ready for this. For you."
Neither was he, no matter what a certain body part was screaming. "No rush."
"Okay. Good." She licked her already wet lips in a self-conscious gesture he was certain she didn't mean to make so damn sexy.
"We could just let this attraction sit in the driver's seat," he said. "And see where it takes us."
"I feel as though I should pull over and ask for directions."
He smiled. "Do we need a map then?"
"I do, yes. I need a plan."
"You can't always plan matters of the heart, I'm learning." He set his forehead to hers. "You're my case in point."
Her dark eyes were liquid and full of unmistakable yearning. He wished, just once, that she would speak of that yearning, instead of fighting it.
Then she closed her eyes.
"No fair hiding." He touched his lips to the corner of her mouth, hovering there, thrilling to her quick intake of breath. "Look at me."
Both her eyes and her mouth opened slightly, and she leaned toward him, clearly wanting, expecting, needing a kiss. "Dax..."
"Tell me what you want, Amber."
Instead, she shifted closer, dropped her gaze to his lips.
"With words." He smiled wickedly. "It's your plan, you're the one in control, remember?"
"You want me to say it."
She sounded so scandalized he nearly laughed. "Yeah." Softly, in a barely there touch, he kissed the other side of her mouth.
She moaned, and the sound made him hot. "Tell me."
Pleasure sighed out of her when he slid his fingers into her hair, but though she turned into him, pressed her body to his, she remained silent.
He drew back.
She let out an exploding sigh. "Okay! Kiss me, dammit!"
"If you insist," he murmured demurely.
The connection was combustive, instantly sizzling, and there was no way to hold back his low growl of helpless arousal, no way he wanted to.
Already it wasn't enough. The kiss wasn't enough.
Threading his fingers through her silky soft hair, he angled her for a deeper, hotter, wetter kiss. Their bodies swayed together. He could feel her breasts against his chest, her belly flat to his, and when he rocked slowly, melding their hips into a perfect fit so that he could feel the heat between her thighs, he nearly died right there. "If you need a road map to my feelings here," he murmured. "Let me assure you, I want more."
Her breath wasn't any more steady when she met his gaze warily. "How much more?"
He wanted it all. He wanted her to willingly shed that cool, calm control to give him the real Amber beneath. "You know how much I want. Now tell me what you want."
She loosened a fist from his hair, then smoothed that hand over his chest, from one side to another, and just that light touch sent his head spinning.
"Words," he said. "Tell me in words."
"I want..." Helplessly, she lifted her head. "You. But I don't know what to do."
"Are we talking about a physical want?"
She nodded.
If it had been any other woman telling him they wanted him, it would have made Dax's evening.
But this wasn't any other woman, it was Amber, and he suddenly wanted far more than her physical want. Swallowing his disappointment, he let out a laugh. "I remember you knowing exactly what to do before."
Her body was taut and quivering as he kissed her this time, telling him plainly what her mouth seemed to be struggling with, and heat roared through his veins. He caressed her slim back, up and down, slowly, fingers spread wide so he could touch as much of her as possible. She did the same, running her hands all over him. Then, slowly, he ended the kiss.
Her eyes were huge on his. "What?"
"I just wanted to make sure you're still in the driver's seat. I know how important that is to you."
He'd been only teasing, but she frowned, seriously considering. "I'm okay. I think." She looked at him. "More."
"Mmm. Aggressive." He stroked his hands down her hips, past her thighs, to the hem of her skirt, then skimmed them back up again, beneath the material now, to...ah, those legs. At the feel of lace, then soft, bare thighs, he groaned.
She squirmed and looked defensive. "They're more comfortable then regular nylons."
"Thank God for comfort."
"And they don't seem to snag like the others---"
"And thriftiness, too."
"They're very practical, you know."
He laughed. "You can't be thinking I don't like them."
"I---You do?"
"I do. Is it okay that they turn me on?" He had to laugh again when she considered.
"Why don't you just enjoy the reaction you're getting from me...?" He slid his hips to hers and lowered his lips to her ear. "Feel what you do to me."
She gripped him tight and nodded.
"More, Amber?"
"Yes, please," she whispered politely, making him crack up again. He'd never in his life laughed while trying to get a woman naked. He liked it. And her. Very much.
"Still so in control..." He continued to stroke her, determined to shatter her restraint. "Touch me back," he urged.
Her hands slipped beneath his shirt, streaking over his bare back. "Dax---" Her hips undulated against his. "Where's my more?"
That needy, whispery voice nearly brought him to his knees. "Here." His voice was rough. "Skin to skin this time, I want to feel you, all of you."
Apparently in agreement, she tore off his shirt, then sucked in her breath. "You didn't tell me how beautiful you are." Her fingertips slid over his chest, her eyes wide with awe.
"Not like you." He had his own ogling to do now as he undid the buttons on her blouse, then slid it down to her elbows. At the sight of her, he let out his own shaky breath, then bent to her. "Oh, baby, not like you." Opening his mouth against her, he scattered hot little nips over her quivering skin. "Amber...you still okay?"
"What?" Dazed, she lifted her head, her arms still trapped by her blouse.
Through the white lace of her bra, her nipples were puckered and begging for attention, which he intended to give. "I asked if you were all right. You didn't want to lose yourself, remember?" Cupping her breasts, he let his thumbs glance over the tips, back and forth as her eyes glazed over. "I don't want to take this further than you want."
"I..." She closed her eyes when he continued that movement with his thumbs, then slid her hands up around his neck, and squeezed him so he could scarcely breath. "I'm fine. Just don't stop."
He might have grinned, but he was having trouble with his breathing. The feel of her in his hands...
"Give me my more, Dax."
Laughing softly he tugged her shirt completely off. Hunger and need pumped through him. It wasn't comforting to realize that he would be only partially sated by making love with her tonight.
The fire was roaring, warm and enticing, and they sank to the thick rug in front of it. He expected some hesitation when he opened his arms, but she came right into them, fitting there as if she belonged forever.
Forever.
What a thought. He'd never believed in forever, at least not for himself. "Still okay?" he asked, running a finger down her body.
She sucked in a breath when he slid off the rest of her clothes, then his. "Yes."
"Just wanted to make sure." He played with her belly button, her hipbone, then her inner thigh, which had her letting that air back out again, through her teeth. When he lingered there, she made that needy little whimper deep in her throat. "You're still in control, right?"
"Dax?"
"Yeah?"
"Shut up."
He grinned, then leaned over her.
The kiss was long, wet, hot and left him aching for more. Levering himself up on his forearms, he cupped her face. "I want you, Amber. Want me back."
She arched up. "Yes."
He felt the wetness between her legs which she spread to accommodate his, but he needed the words. "Tell me."
She licked her dry lips and writhed against him, encouraging him to sink inside her, still saying nothing.
"Tell me." He stroked himself against her and her eyes went opaque.
"I want you, Dax."
He had a second to wish she'd said she needed him, but his body was hard and pulsing, poised for entry and aroused beyond the point of no return. When she reared up and hugged him to her, his heart squeezed.
"I have a condom this time," he said hoarsely, and when he finally managed to get it on, he drove them straight to paradise.
AMBER STIRRED first. Her body was a stranger to her, languid and lazy and newly tender in spots she'd almost forgotten about.
Oh, and she was wrapped in warm, solid arms.
It was still dark. Dax lay beside her, his breathing slow and deep and even.
For one weak moment, she let herself sink into him, into the heat and warmth and joy of his big body, enjoying the feeling of being secure and cared for.
In that moment she didn't have to be strong, she didn't have to be in charge, and she reveled in the letting go.
But she didn't fool herself; it couldn't last.
In the end, she had only herself to depend on. No matter how much Dax insisted he wanted to be there for her and Taylor, she could see fear lurking deep in his gaze.
A fear that matched hers.
He'd been so right, she thought, her heart hitching. There was no road map when it came to matters of the heart, no directions to follow.
And God help her, she was hopelessly lost.
10
WHEN DAX WOKE UP the next morning, he had an armful of warm, naked woman, a raging erection and a grin on his face.
"I could get used to this," he murmured, turning, tucking Amber beneath him. They were in her bedroom, in her bed. He'd carried her there himself sometime during the middle of the most erotic night of his life.
As her eyes fluttered open, he made his move, swooping down to take her mouth before she could utter a word. A sensuous, sleepy murmur escaped her throat and she rubbed languidly against him, returning his kiss with such heat and passion he groaned.
At the sound, she went perfectly still.
Dax raised his head. "Hey there."
She blinked slowly, looking confused, her usually perfect hair wild and willful.
Because he couldn't help it, he went for that creamy skin at the base of her neck. "Do you have any idea how sexy you are?" he asked.
She lay sprawled and gorgeous, a feast for his eyes. While he nibbled at her neck, his fingers found a velvety nipple that quickly responded to his touch. "Mmmm. You taste better than breakfast."
Her eyes closed again, her head fell back. Her breath came in little pants, quickening when he switched to her other breast. He took his time there, as well, and skimmed a hand down her belly and lower. Finding her deliciously hot, and so wet he moaned, he sank a finger into her. He played in and out of that slippery heat, his eyes crossing with lust when she clamped her legs around his hand, holding him to her.
"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, kissing her lips, her jaw, her ear. He took the sensitive lobe into his mouth and bit gently as his fingers danced over her.
She arched up into his palm, whimpering every time he withdrew. "Yeah," he whispered. "Feels good, doesn't it?"
"Dax?"
"I'm right here, Amber. Always."
Her eyes flew open again. "Dax?"
Hadn't they already established that? "Still me." He rose up on an elbow to study her. "Amber, are you awake?"
Again that slow blink. "I had this dream that we..." She licked her lips. "I guess it wasn't a dream."
She was adorable, he decided, slowly shaking his head. And most definitely not a morning person. "Not a dream."
She groaned.
"Regrets?"
"I don't feel comfortable with this type of a relationship."
"You felt comfortable enough during the night," he pointed out. "Three times, in fact."
She blushed and looked away. "Five," she muttered.
"Well then..." He grinned. "Why don't we go for an even dozen?" But when he leaned close with wicked intent, she put a hand to his chest.
He sighed and sat up. She had the entire sheet---who knew what had happened to the rest of the bedding---which left him stark naked, but he didn't care. "You still have a problem with us."
She darted him a glance. "When you say 'us' like that, it makes me nervous."
"Join the club."
"You don't look nervous, you look..." She paused, and in an unusually revealing gesture of vulnerability, she bit her lower lip. "You look hungry. As if you could eat me up for breakfast."
"In one bite."
"We're very different," she said softly. "I need time to think."
"No, you need time to control your emotions. To distance yourself from me. It really scares me how easily you can do that."
"And it scares me how much of me you see, how much you understand."
"Yeah, I understand you. Maybe someday you'll understand me back."
Eyes stricken, she opened her mouth, but Taylor chose that moment to cry out.
"She's my alarm clock," Amber said with a shaky laugh. She still held the sheet to her chin, and somehow managed to get out of the bed and keep herself covered. "She'll need to be changed and fed. I'm sorry, Dax."
It was beyond him how she could look as ravaged and luscious as she did, yet so prim and proper at the same time. The heady combination threatened his sanity. "I'm sorry, too."
AMBER SAT in the little café across the street from her office, contemplating her day. It could have been a better one.
Yesterday she'd lost a deal when a client had backed out of a sale at the last moment. Harried over that and the ensuing chaos, she'd forgotten to pick up her dry-cleaning, which had left her with nothing to wear but her now slightly too small red suit.
Despite the unseasonably warm weather, she'd been forced to keep the jacket on all day, which only emphasized her new cleavage. But at least it hid the indecently tight blouse and skirt.
The client she'd seen that morning had certainly appreciated her problem. It had taken most of their meeting to assure him she didn't combine business and pleasure.
In hopes of improving her mood, she sat with a bowl of frozen yogurt. At least she was finally cooling off. The pleasant buzz of people around lulled her. She took a huge bite filled with delicious strawberries and leaned back with a sigh as it melted down her parched throat.
"The way you eat that looks positively sinful."
Dax bent over her, his mouth close to her ear, so that the low, sexy timbre sent shivers racing down her spine. "Did you know you've got every male customer in this place hard as a rock, just from watching you enjoy that thing?"
"Where's Taylor?" she asked, pleased her voice sounded so steady. She wasn't about to let him know he'd made her bones dissolve.
"Mom's spoiling her for us."
Mom's spoiling her for us. So intimate. As if Amber herself was also a part of his family.
Dax helped himself to the seat next to her, leaned back and made himself at home. Faded denim snugged his long, powerful legs, though she had no idea why she noticed. His T-shirt invited her to Fear Nothing. "I take it you're off-duty."
He grinned. "Yep. I'm going to take Taylor for a picnic. Want to come?"
"You're taking a baby on a picnic? She'll eat the ants and get itchy from the grass and---"
"Amber." He laughed. "I want to take you on a picnic. I'm shamelessly using our daughter as an excuse."
"Oh." Another huge bite of frozen yogurt helped her stall, but she stopped when she realized Dax's gaze was riveted to her mouth. His body seemed tense, his muscles tight beneath his shirt. And oh Lord, she'd have to be totally naive to miss the bulge behind the button fly of his Levi's.
"Take some mercy on me, Amber," he said with a groan. "Either stop eating that thing as though you were in the throes of an orgasm or toss it. You're killing me."
"Hmm."
"Was that an apology?"
"I refuse to apologize because you can't keep your mind out of your pants." Gathering her briefcase, purse and yogurt---she wasn't about to give that up for him!---she rose. "I'm going back to work."
"Amber. Come on, wait up---"
When she kept going, she heard him swear behind her, heard the scrape of his chair as he came to his feet.
She moved faster.
They didn't speak as she practically ran across the street and into her building, but when she entered her office and tried to shut the door behind her, she was stymied by a one-hundred-and-eighty pound block wall.
Half in, half out, with the door nearly cutting off his nose, he grinned down at her. "You're nuts about me, I can tell."
She groaned and backed away from the door. "I'm only letting you in because I can't stand the sight of blood. That, and my secretary, Nancy, is watching." She plopped into her chair and glared at him.
He shut the door behind him, then set a lean hip on the corner of her desk. "Let me see," he said, reaching for her spoon. "If it's as good as it looks...hmmm." His tongue darted out to catch a drop. "Oh yeah. It is."
So rattled by the sight of his wet tongue sliding over his own lips, Amber lost every thought in her head. Her hands loosened with the loss of blood flow to her brain, and the small bit of frozen yogurt still left in the cup spilled out...right down the front of her jacket.
Dax was there in a flash, laughing, slipping her jacket off her shoulders.
"No, don't," she gasped, gripping the edges of her jacket, pressing it to her too-tight blouse. "I want it on---"
"Hurry," he urged, tugging the jacket from her shoulders, leaving her exposed in nothing but the blouse she didn't want anyone to see. "Before it gets on your---" Abruptly, Dax stopped talking.
Stopped breathing.
He couldn't help himself, she was incredible. Yes, he'd already seen her, seen everything. He'd touched and licked and kissed every inch of her, but that didn't stop his heart from constricting and certain other parts of his anatomy from standing at attention at the sight of her straining against the tight confines of her white silk blouse.
"I wanted that on," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.
He hardly heard her, could hardly think, but he had to touch.
Her face remained cool, impassive as he slid his fingers over her, but at the base of her neck, her pulse drummed wildly, giving her away.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, watching her nipples harden, pressing for freedom against the fabric. "But you're so beautiful, you stun me."
"We agreed we're too different for this," Amber said, not quite steadily, tightening her arms in front of her.
All it did was emphasize her glorious body, and the breasts she seemed embarrassed of. "No, you agreed."
She gave him a hot look.
It was filled with such frustration, he had to smile. "Okay, we agreed that you think you need space in order to protect your emotions from me."
"I don't think it, I know it."
And so did he. Dammit, so did he. "I shouldn't have come." He shoved his fingers through his hair and backed away.
"I'm sorry."
"For which?" At the door, he spun around. "For driving me crazy, or for driving me crazy slowly?"
That comment had anger flashing in her eyes. "I'm sorry you're upset that you're not getting your way."
"What's my way? Do you even know?"
"You want to have a...a fling."
That stopped him cold and he stalked back toward her. "Why don't you just marry me, dammit, and settle once and for all what I really want."
11
AMBER GAWKED at him and, in truth, Dax couldn't blame her. He was shocked, too. After that first time when he'd so foolishly asked her to marry him, he'd vowed not to think about it again.
But he knew now how he felt about being a father to Taylor. He wanted to do it right. Part-time wasn't right, not in his opinion.
He also knew how he felt about Amber, knew it was permanent, not some passing phase.
He knew this, just as he knew he'd been using her resistance to fuel his own, using it to mask his own fear of commitment.
But that was cowardly. The deep emotions he had for Amber were here to stay, and he would face them.
He had to convince her to do the same.
"Did you just..." She gazed at him helplessly, her head going back in forth in an automatic denial that had his jaw so tight he could barely breathe. "Did you..."
"Yes. For the second time. And I have to tell you, that frightened, trapped-doe look is not quite the response I was hoping for."
The look disappeared instantly as she veiled her thoughts from him.
"I told you before," she said slowly. "It's unnecessary. Nothing's changed."
"That's not an answer," he said grimly. "An answer would be 'yes, I'll make your wildest fantasies come true,' or 'no, let me rip out your heart."'
"You're being impossible."
"Yes," he snapped. "We've already established that I'm wildly emotional, temperamental and overly sensitive. That I can't control any of that. I'm also, apparently, impossible. But I want to marry you. I want to be a family. So answer the damn question."
He couldn't have handled this any worse, and he knew it. Thanks to his own stupidity, he'd backed her into a corner with no way out. But he wouldn't withdraw the question, not when he'd put his pride on the line.
In control now, Amber didn't even blink.
"It's that tough, huh?"
"It's not as though we've had the most conventional of relationships," she told him in a tone that said she expected him to be reasonable.
He wasn't in the mood for reasonable. "Of course this relationship hasn't been normal, not from the very beginning! We met under extraordinary circumstances, for God's sake, and we've been through things other people haven't." He lifted his hands helplessly. "Nothing's been the same since that earthquake, and nothing's been the same since I met you." Dropping his hands, he shook his head. "I held you when I thought we were going to die, Amber, and yes, that was a long time ago, and yes, now everything's different. I see things differently, I feel differently." He reached for her, touched her pale face. "I have never regretted what happened. You have to know, you and Taylor are the best things that ever happened to me."
She turned away and scrubbed at the yogurt stain with a napkin. Though the stain didn't come off, she slipped the jacket back on anyway. Buttoning it, her back to him, she softly said, "You scare me."
"Does it help to know you scare me, too?"
"Actually, 'scare' isn't a strong enough word," she clarified. "Terrify works better."
He came up behind her, torturing himself with the feel of her spine and curved bottom against his chest and groin.
At the contact, her fingers fumbled on her buttons.
Reaching around her, he brushed her hands away and took over the task. "It's not like you to be so fidgety."
"I'm nervous. Marriage proposals do that to me."
Surrounding her as he was, he could hear her every breath, could smell her sweet, sexy scent. Felt her small tremors. Wildly protective emotions rose in him, powerful and suddenly certain. "Amber..." His arms folded around her. His mouth found its way to her ear and was heading toward her jaw when she straightened.
"I'm having enough trouble keeping my thoughts together," she said shakily, facing him, pressing her hands to her heart. "If I let you kiss me now, I don't know what will happen."
"Really?" That pleased him. "What could happen?"
"You know very well what."
"I want to hear you say it."
She rolled her eyes. "You know all you have to do is look at me and my thoughts scatter. I certainly can't concentrate when you put your mouth on me. I can hardly breathe."
His smile spread a bit. "Maybe you concentrate too much."
"Yes, well, it's a bad habit of mine."
"Are you ever going to answer the question?"
She drew a deep breath. "I know it's rude, but I need some air."
"You need to think."
"Yes."
Well-versed in this particular play, he followed her out, but she was stopped by Nancy at the front desk and handed a stack of messages that made her sigh.
Dax watched while she flipped through them with quick impatience. And saw her, really saw her---the weary eyes, the slight bruises beneath them, the tension in her body.
She was truly exhausted.
Nancy added a pile of files that needed immediate attention. On top of that, she placed a virtual mountain of correspondence, all of which required review and a signature.
It had to be at least a week's worth of work.
Amber took everything stoically, she even managed a smile for her employee, but Dax saw right through her.
"Put it in your office and let's go," he said quietly.
Nancy held up a finger before Amber could move. "The Garrisons. They want to see that property again."
"Terrific," Amber muttered.
"Today."
"They've seen it five times this week."
"I know. But they want to see it again and they want to see it with you."
Amber drew in a slow, purposeful breath, and Dax wondered how it was that only he saw her growing exhaustion. He knew how hard she worked, knew how much time Taylor demanded, and added it all up.
It equaled a breakdown for Amber.
"Call them then," she said wearily. "Tell them I'll pick them up at---"
"Tell them they can see the damn property by themselves," Dax interjected. He took the stack of work from Amber's arms. "You've done enough today. You're taking off."
Both Amber and Nancy stared at him.
"Ms. Riggs is leaving for the day," he announced for anyone listening. "She won't be back until morning."
"I will most definitely be back today," Amber said, her eyes on Dax. "I just need some air."
"You're going to get your air." Dax smiled his most charming smile. "But you won't be back today." Taking her hand in a grip of steel, he tugged her from the office.
"Dax...would you stop!" Her heels clicked noisily as she raced along beside him. "I have important business to attend to."
"You most certainly do," he assured her, ruthlessly tugging her along. "We were in the middle of something."
"I know, but I can't just leave, not now---"
"Your air," he reminded her. "You needed to get out so fast you couldn't answer my question. Remember?"
Her lips tightened, but she remained silent until they exited the building.
It was a glorious Southern California day. The sky was a deep, brilliant blue and scattered across it were little puffs of white clouds.
A picture-perfect scene.
Now if only the woman next to him could slow down enough to enjoy it.
Instead, she spun on her heels away from him and started walking.
Dax spared a moment to admire her stride. "I'm coming with you," he called.
"Like I could stop you."
He moved to keep up with her. She was pale, but never faltered. The slight wind tossed her hair, played with the hem of her skirt. Dax avoided thinking by concentrating on traffic. He avoided touching Amber by keeping his hands in his pockets.
Three blocks later, they came to a park. All green and woodsy, it had a series of trails and welcoming benches. A perfect place to ask a woman---for the third time---to marry him.
A perfect place for his future to be decided.
They were hidden from the street by trees. The sounds of birds singing drowned out any traffic they might have heard. They were alone, isolated, surrounded by beauty.
"Well," he said after a moment.
"Well."
They stared at each other stupidly, and Dax wondered if she could possibly be as attracted, as confused, as totally, irreversibly in love as he was.
Then he saw the unmistakable signs---red-rimmed eyes and damp lashes.
Dammit.
"I've thought about...you know," she said, her voice a bit ragged.
"You mean about spending the rest of your life with me?" he asked gently. "Is that why you're crying?"
She looked away. "It's been hard being a single parent. No family support, few friends. Both are my fault, but it's fact." Then she turned back to him. "Having you in my life, taking responsibility for helping with Taylor, it's been a real gift."
"But?"
"But I can't accept your offer. It's generous, kind and almost overwhelmingly irresistible, but as I told you before, I can't do it."
"Mind if I ask why?"
"It's obvious neither of us were meant for marriage."
"I don't believe that," he said softly. "And I don't believe you believe it. Don't chicken out here, Amber. Don't hide, not from me. Tell me the truth. I deserve that much."
"You know the truth. I'm not marriage material, and you...you like women too much to give it all up just because we have a baby."
"First of all, I stopped looking at other women the moment you came into my life."
"Which time?"
"Both," he told her grimly.
"I understand getting married is a logical solution to the unexpected unit we've become." She hugged herself. "We have a baby. We both love her with all our hearts. We're willing to share her, but the truth is, neither of us really want to be separated from her. Getting married would solve that."
"Yes," he agreed, sliding closer. "It would also solve another, deeper problem."
"Which is?"
"I want you."
"You---" She closed her eyes. "You just had me recently. A few times as a matter of fact."
The memory, as well as her tone, made him smile. "I want more than sex," he clarified. Because the admission was a new one for him, and scary, his humor vanished. "I've never said this before about anyone else, but sex with you isn't enough. I want to spend nights together. I want to be together. I know we started out in a whirlwind, that we've done everything backward, but let's fix it."
"Marriage won't do that, Dax."
"Why are you so resistant?"
"Because...because, dammit, it's not enough for me!" She blushed and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry. I know this sounds stupid, but to me a marriage should be about...about love. I've never thought of myself in those terms, but deep in my heart, if I'm going to do it, that's what I want."
"Love."
"That's right."
"Well that's convenient, since I happen to be madly in love with you."
"What?" She flew to her feet and stared at him as if she'd just discovered he was an alien. "What did you just say?"
He stood, too, and when she would have turned away, he took her shoulders in his hands. She trembled. That made two of them. "I think you heard me just fine."
"I've...I've never heard those words before." Her voice was a mere whisper. She licked her lips. "I'd like to hear them again."
His heart threatened to burst out of his chest. "I love you."
"You can't."
"Why not? You're perfectly lovable."
Her mouth was open, her eyes wild. Her hand went to her chest. "Oh God. Now I can't breathe."
"Good. Neither can I." He resisted the urge to laugh because he wasn't kidding. He really couldn't breathe. "I've never said those words to a woman before, Amber."
They stared at each other.
"You're mistaken," she decided tremulously. "You have to be."
"No."
"You have no idea. I don't let people in, I'm not---"
"Amber." It was so easy, so right to touch her, he thought, as his thumb gently stroked her jaw. His fingers slipped into her hair. "I've loved you from that very first day."
"But I don't know how to love you back."
"You could practice."
Moisture gathered in her beautiful eyes and she shook her head back and forth.
"Practice with me, Amber," he whispered, his heart raw.
Her eyes were huge. "I'm not ready. I need time."
"How much?"
"I don't know!"
Because she was still shaking, he gathered her stiff body close. "I'm sorry," she whispered against his chest, but her hands snaked around his neck and for a moment, she clung.
He stroked her back and tamped down any regrets. "Don't worry. It so happens, time is in plentiful supply."
And strange as it seemed, given she'd turned him down yet again, Dax felt an inkling of hope for their future.
12
THAT NIGHT, Dax lay in his bed staring at the ceiling wondering how long it would take for sleep to claim him when the phone rang.
Given how his heart picked up speed, he knew who it would be. "Hello?"
"Did you mean it?"
Amber. Unsure and unhappy. "I meant every one of those three little words," he assured her grimly.
"Another promise?"
"Another promise."
There was a long silence, and he knew she was very busy thinking.
"Have I broken one to you yet, Amber?"
"No," she said slowly, but she sounded slightly reassured. "I have to go."
His heart twisted, a feeling he was beginning to associate with her. "Good night, Amber," he whispered.
DAX FOUND Amber at what he now knew to be her favorite lunch spot. He grinned at her bowl of strawberry yogurt. "Are you going to let me watch you eat that?"
She stopped licking her spoon and eyed him over the bowl with an interesting mix of pleasure and wariness. The wariness he expected because it had been four days since he'd sought her out.
The pleasure was a nice surprise.
"No," she finally said.
Ignoring that, because whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was crazy about him, he swiveled a chair around and straddled it. Leaning forward, he took in her cool, sedate, navy blue suit. "I don't suppose I can convince you to spill again so that you could lose the uptight clothes."
Surprising him, she laughed. "Actually, I thought of you this morning when I put this on."
"Yeah?" For some reason, that gave him ridiculous pleasure. So did the thought of her standing, fresh out of a shower, naked, thinking of him.
Her voice was low. "I thought of it as my armor."
"Against?"
She played with the yogurt now. "Sometimes you give me a certain look and it makes me feel...funny."
He gave her one of those looks now and the air sizzled between them.
"That's the one," she said a bit shakily, pointing at him with her spoon. "That's it right there."
"Do you feel funny now?"
"A little, yeah."
"Me, too." He heard the rough arousal in his voice and couldn't stop himself. "And it has nothing to do with the clothes you wear." He leaned close. "You could put on real armor and it wouldn't matter one damn bit."
Her eyes closed briefly, and he knew he didn't mistake that quick flash of helpless desire on her face before she carefully masked it and rose. "I have work."
He touched her arm, stilled her. "You can believe in me, Amber. Believe in yourself enough to see it."
"I'm trying, Dax. Whatever you think of me, I want you to know that."
He rose, too, and skimmed his fingers over her cheek. "I know you've had no one to trust with yourself before, but I promise you, I'm different."
And then, because they were in the crowded café, and because neither of them were quite steady, he stepped back. "Think about it."
AMBER WANTED to do nothing but think about it. As she entered her office, her mind whirled. She moved toward her desk and the mountain of work waiting for her.
Halfway there, the earth rumbled beneath her feet. For a second she allowed herself to believe it was her overly active imagination.
It wasn't. The earthquake was short and quick, and absolutely terrifying.
There had been many this year, and she remembered each and every one of them because they'd brought on a heart-stopping panic she couldn't control.
A normal reaction for someone who'd been through what she had, she assured herself, gripping her desk, prepared to dive under it if necessary.
"It's okay," she said out loud as she waited, tense and frozen. "Just an aftershock." She knew they could occur for years after a main quake. The knowledge didn't help. Many people in the area had been terrorized by the aftershocks, not just her. It was normal.
Normal.
She told herself all of this, repeatedly, but she still forgot to breathe and her chest hurt. Her vision spotted.
And though it was over long before she even fully registered it, she remained there, rigid, heart drumming, palms damp, shaking like a leaf.
The door to her office opened and shut, and suddenly Dax was standing there, saying her name in that deep, wonderful voice.
"I came the second I felt it," he said. "I was still on the street. I thought---I didn't know how you would feel---Dammit, I hate those things!" he exclaimed, taking her arms in his strong, reassuring hands. "Are you all right?"
"Certainly." But she clung to his big, welcoming body. Just for a moment, she told herself. She'd allow herself to lean on him for just a moment. "I'm fine."
"Don't." With a gentleness that was so tender, so sweet it hurt, he curled a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Don't fake being strong for me."
"It was just an aftershock. Hardly even big enough to register on the scale."
"It registered on my scale," came his gruff reply, and for the first time she heard his breathlessness, felt the quiver in his own muscles, and realized he felt the fear, too.
She gave herself permission to hold him for another moment.
"It's okay," he whispered, gathering her tighter, absorbing her weight with ease. "We're okay."
"Taylor," she said, lifting her head. Urgency overcame her. "I want to call---"
"We will. Soon as I can remember my mother's phone number. We'll go get her together, okay? Amber, just hold onto me for a second."
We'll go get her.
We'll.
Together.
For some reason, the words softened her as nothing else could have and she let out a lungful of air, burying her face in the wonderful spot of his neck that seemed meant for her. "Don't be afraid," she told him. "I have a big, tough desk. It'll hold."
He laughed, as she had meant for him to, and somehow that softened her even more so that her arms wrapped even tighter around him.
"We're both shaking like leaves," he muttered, sinking with her to the floor. "I really hate earthquakes."
"Just for the record here," she wondered. "Who's comforting who?"
"I'm not sure, just don't let go."
She didn't. They sat huddled on the floor in each other's arms like two little children. Her legs were entwined with his, her skirt high on her thighs. His hands were on her back, slowly running up and down in a reassuring gesture that hadn't been anything but sincerely comforting, until his hands slipped beneath her jacket to the silk of her blouse.
The embrace shifted, became charged with erotic awareness, and Amber lifted her head to stare at him, into his warm eyes, then at his mouth, the one she suddenly wanted on hers. The shattering, shocking truth was, she wanted that more than she wanted her own next breath.
Dax groaned and closed his eyes. "Don't look at me like that, it's dangerous to my health."
For the life of her, she couldn't remember why she'd wanted to hold him at arm's length, couldn't remember why she was trying so hard to resist this magnetic pull she felt whenever she was with him.
Hell, she was starting to have that pull even when she wasn't with him.
Her arms were already around his neck, it took little movement to have her fingers fisted in his hair so that she could tug him closer, then closer still so that their mouths were a fraction of an inch apart.
"Amber." The sound of her name on his lips, spoken in that husky voice, made her heart tip on its side.
She closed the distance between them, let her eyes drift closed. Her lips parted and she felt his warm breath mingle with hers.
Her office door opened.
"Oh, excuse me," came Nancy's shocked voice.
Professionalism kept her from gawking, though Amber was certain she wanted to. After all, how often did she see her boss sprawled on the floor in a man's arms?
"I'm sorry," Nancy murmured.
Amber groaned when the door shut. She pushed away from Dax.
He let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm betting from the look on your face that what just happened is worse than the aftershock."
"I've worked hard to make sure everyone here respects me and the work I do. And in a matter of seconds, I've just ruined that image."
"Well that's pure bull."
Amber stared at him. "That's easy for you to say. You're a man, working in a man's world. You're not judged by your appearance, or who you sleep with."
"Neither are you."
"It's different here. It's highly competitive. One nasty rumor and I could be ruined."
"I see. And being caught in my arms equals a nasty rumor. Flattering."
She winced at his unusually chilly voice. "I didn't mean to insult you."
"That's the hard part, because I know it."
THAT NIGHT when Dax brought Taylor home to Amber, he made no attempt to draw her into conversation. He didn't even come in, but stood at the doorway, silently and solemnly holding Taylor close for a long moment. Arms tight around the chubby little baby, he closed his eyes and hugged her tight.
Then he lifted her high, smiled at her squeal of delight and kissed her goodbye. "I love you, baby," he whispered, and his smile was a heart-wrenching mixture of sweetness and sorrow.
All that emotion both shocked and humbled Amber to her toes. "Do you want to come in?"
He shook his head, and as if to prove his point, remained on the step as she took the diaper bag from him. He was careful not to touch her. Though she had no right to feel that way, it hurt.
She knew he was going to work. She'd seen the news. There was a fire raging in a downtown apartment building. It was filled with hundreds of trapped, terrified people, and though he rarely fought the actual fires these days, he would be on the scene. His job required it.
But she knew his distant attitude had nothing to do with that fire and everything to do with her. "Be careful tonight."
"Always." With one last, loving touch to Taylor's chubby cheek, he turned away.
"Dax."
Slowly he turned, but she didn't know what to say, how to reach him. How to make him understand.
How could she, when she didn't understand herself? "Nothing," she whispered, and then he was gone.
AMBER DID her best to keep her mind occupied for the rest of the long evening. She bathed Taylor, then read her stories, even though the baby was far more interested in chewing on the pages than listening to the words.
She even tried to do some of her own work. Nothing satisfied her and her mind drifted.
To Dax.
Desperate to distract herself, she flipped on the television, then stood riveted in horror. The downtown fire was live on all the local channels.
The flames weren't contained. Even worse, there were still people trapped on the higher levels. The city had put out the desperate call for help to neighboring counties, and though that help was on the way, for many it would be too late.
She knew Dax would never stand on the sidelines. He'd be there, in the thick of that heat, fighting for those people's lives.
Glued to the screen, she lost track of time, chewing on her nails as she hadn't done since she was a child. When the roof of the building collapsed, she leaped to her feet, then kneeled before the television, her heart in her throat.
Three firefighters were reported missing.
She waited and waited, but they didn't give any more information, not the identities of the men or their conditions, not even after the fire was contained and then, eventually, extinguished.
No longer able to stand the not knowing, Amber turned to the phone, just as it rang.
"Honey, it's Emily McCall."
"Oh, thank goodness. Do you think you could watch Taylor for me? I have to go down."
"Oh, Amber, listen---"
"I have to go, I have to know---"
"I know, I know. But he's okay. He's not hurt. That's why I'm calling."
The relief was so overwhelming, Amber couldn't breathe. "You're sure?"
"Thomas drove down there when this mess first started, he just called me."
Dax was okay.
Amber's limbs started to shake in reaction and she collapsed onto the couch.
Emily's voice was thick with tears. "I worry about him so much. I can hear in your voice you worried, too."
"Yes. He---We---I..." She blew out a breath and tried again. "It was awful, the not knowing. I tried to imagine...Taylor needs him."
"Of course she does. What about her mother?"
"I need him, too," she said, meaning every word. "So much."
"He's my life," Emily said simply. "And so is your daughter. I'm so thankful we're all together."
The guilt that stabbed at Amber wasn't new. She felt as though she had stolen Taylor's first three months from Dax and his family and now, only a few short weeks later, couldn't imagine how she had done it.
Or why.
Her reasons for wanting to be alone hadn't made sense for hours now.
"Why don't you bring me that sweet little baby?" Emily suggested. "Then you can decide what to do."
"About what?"
Emily's voice was hushed, as if she kept a huge secret. "Well, I shouldn't say anything." This spoken in the hopeful tone of someone who wanted to be pressed.
"Please."
"Well, you know I pride myself on letting my children lead their own lives. I don't mean to be nosy."
If she hadn't been in such shock, Amber might have laughed. It was common knowledge among Dax's family exactly how wonderfully, purposely nosy Emily could be.
"But as long as you're asking," she said slyly. "I was hoping maybe you had something to tell me. That maybe you and Dax were going to...oh, I don't know. Get married?"
Oh Lord. "Mrs. McCall---"
"Oh, no, you don't," Emily interrupted with a laugh. "Let's not go backward here. You called me Emily at the party."
"Okay. Emily---"
"Or you could just go ahead and get used to calling me Mom."
Amber's emotions were in such a tailspin, she had no control left with which to handle this situation. "I'm sorry," she managed. "But as far as wedding bells, I don't have anything to tell."
"He hasn't asked you to marry him?" Emily's disappointment sang through the line. "That boy! I taught him better than that---"
"No, no, it's not..." How to explain that she had screwed everything up? That there was every chance Dax no longer wanted her? "It's not his fault."
"You don't want him?"
"This is very complicated. I can't seem to think straight."
"Of course you can't! Where's my head, pressing you to talk to me before you're ready. Maybe you haven't even decided if you like me---"
Now Amber did laugh. Emily McCall could wear down a saint. "I like you, very much," she assured the older woman. "It's just that---"
"That you don't think of me as your family yet." Emily sniffed, clearly insulted. "I understand."
"You know that's not true."
"No, it's okay, you don't owe me anything."
"Emily, please. I think you're an amazing woman."
"You do?" Pleasure quickly replaced hurt. "Really?"
"Yes." It had never been easy for Amber to share herself, but for some reason, the words came now. "I think the way you love your family is beautiful."
"It's no more than any mother would do."
Maybe it was the late hour or the emotions of the day, but suddenly it was easy for Amber to admit the truth. "Not any mother."
"Not yours?"
Emily's sympathy and pity didn't frighten her as she thought it would. "Definitely not mine. But I used to dream about it, and if I could have drawn my mother the way I wanted her to be, she would have been just like you."
"Oh darling, now you're really going to make me cry."
"Don't you dare." Amber laughed through her own impending tears. "You'll get me started. And after what we've been through this evening, I may never stop."
"Dax is careful, you know. He's the best at what he does."
He was the best at everything he set his mind to. His work. Fatherhood. She could only imagine what a husband he'd make. The warm glow that came from that thought no longer surprised her.
"I imagine you have a lot on your mind," Emily said. "Especially with the thought of babies and marriage and all the like."
"I thought you didn't want to be nosy."
"Oh, you." But Emily had the good grace to laugh at herself. "You already have my number. Just like all my children." Her voice went stern and demanding. "Now bring me Taylor. You go to my boy."
IN THE END, Amber didn't drop off Taylor, figuring Dax would want to see her. He seemed to thrive on any opportunity to do so.
Plus she needed Taylor to hold, needed to feel that small, warm bundle of life against her, reminding her that no matter what happened with Dax, she mattered to someone.
Dax had given her a key to his house, insisting he didn't want her waiting for him outside if he was ever late when they were supposed to meet. Amber had felt uncomfortable with that, had assumed she would never use it, but it came in handy now.
Less than one minute after she arrived, Dax pulled into the driveway, setting her nerves to leaping. Head down, shoulders tense, he opened the front door and stepped inside. As if he sensed her, he stilled and slowly raised his head to reveal a weary, hollow face.
When he saw her his eyes warmed. So did Amber's heart.
13
"HEY." DAX acknowledged her, but he didn't move into the room.
Amber's nervousness tripled. Was he bothered by the fact that she'd let herself in? Was he sorry he'd given her his key?
Why didn't he say something, anything? "I hope you don't mind," she found herself saying awkwardly.
With an audible sigh, he kicked off his shoes.
"I...used the key you gave me."
He dropped his jacket where he stood and the leather hit the floor with a thud.
"Taylor's here, too." She felt stupid and intrusive, but a search of his expression told her nothing. A first. "Your mom offered to babysit, but I thought you'd want to see her."
He rolled his head on his neck, winced and then sighed again.
"If you're too tired, I'll just..."
He spoke then, though the words were muffled by the sweatshirt he was pulling off over his head. "I'm never too tired for Taylor." He tossed the sweatshirt aside, his words in direct opposition to the exhaustion on his face. "Or you, for that matter."
"Because I could just scoop her up and leave...."
He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. "Didn't you just get here?"
"Yes."
His face was bleak, his eyes red-rimmed, and his big, tough body so weary she imagined he was standing on his feet by sheer force of will. "I saw everything on the news," she said. She watched as he dumped out the contents of his pockets into a small bowl on the low table in the entry.
His silence was killing her.
"I couldn't tear myself away from the television," she added.
He nodded and rubbed his eyes, but still didn't speak. Her heart was racing so fast she didn't know what to do.
"When the roof collapsed---" she drew a shaky breath "---and those firefighters fell through the gaping hole..."
He flinched and her heart ached at the stark pain she saw so clearly in his eyes. "Oh, Dax."
He hadn't stepped toward her, hadn't really looked at her, not once. He hadn't made one move that told her how he felt about her being there. "Would you rather I go?"
"Actually, I'm hoping you're going to tell me the real reason you're here."
"I...I thought...I just wanted to be."
He came toward her, his face still bleak and grim, but now there was something new in his gaze. He stopped a mere foot away from her. "I've never known you to stutter."
"I don't. N-n-not---" Ruthlessly she bit her tongue. "Not usually anyway." Frustrated, she reached up to shove back a loose strand of hair at the exact same moment his fingers came up to tuck it behind her ear. His hand slid over hers and he brought those joined hands to his chest. "You've been biting your nails. A new habit?"
"Another one that I've not had for years."
"What's the matter? I've never seen you so unsettled."
"Unsettled. I guess that's what you'd call worrying myself sick." All her pent-up fear spewed out. "I went through hell tonight, watching the news."
"It's my job."
"I know. I know! That's not what I'm saying."
"What are you saying?"
"That I worry, okay? I don't want to, but I do."
He let out a long breath and all the tension suddenly draining out of him, immediately replaced by a new, different sort of tension. "Yes," he whispered, his eyes glittering with emotion. "Yes, that's what I wanted to hear."
"I suppose then, that you'd love to know I couldn't even breathe, thinking that you'd be hurt. Or worse!"
His other hand slid up her spine, around to cup her face. His thumb brushed over her lower lip before his fingers sank into her hair, holding her head still. Closing that last gap between them, he nudged her up against his body. "Yeah. I would love to know that."
She flattened her hands against his chest and had to tip her head back to look into his eyes. "Is that ego talking?"
"No. It's not even remotely related to anything in my brain." He smoothed his hand over hers, holding it close to his chest. "It's right here, where pride has no place. And if you think you should be ashamed about worrying for me, think again. Not when I do nothing but think about you, worry about you, want you. It feels incredible to know you're capable of doing the same."
Had she been so selfish to keep that from him? "I care about you, Dax. So much it hurts."
For the first time that night, his eyes heated, his mouth softened. He closed his eyes and with an aching tenderness, rubbed his jaw to hers, drawing her so tight to him she could feel his every breath.
Then he pulled her even closer, burying his face in her neck. "We lost twenty-two people tonight. Six of them children. One was a baby girl, the same age as Taylor."
Shock reverberated through her and she hugged him as tight as she could. "I'm so sorry."
"I had to tell her mother---" He swallowed hard. "I kept seeing Taylor, kept imagining how I'd feel if I had to face you, tell you that---God."
Envisioning the scene, Amber felt his anguish as her own. "You did everything you could, all of you did everything you could to save them."
He made a wordless sound of grief that tore at her. In her arms was the strongest, toughest, most heroic man she'd ever met, and she didn't know what to do for him. She wanted to take his pain away, wanted to hold him close so that nothing could hurt him ever again. She had no idea how long they stood there, rocking slowly, absorbing each other's heat and strength, when Taylor cried out.
"I'll get her," Dax said. "I...I need her."
Amber followed him to the room he'd set up for Taylor. It had been his office before, so the crib was between a leather sofa and an oak desk. Both were now covered with stuffed animals, toys and freshly laundered baby clothes. The place was a comfortable, cozy mess.
Taylor had fallen asleep again, on her tummy as usual, her padded bottom sticking up in the air, her fist in her mouth.
Dax stood by the crib, his hand on Taylor's back, a look of combined sorrow and joy on his face, so poignant it hurt to look at him. But that wasn't a good enough reason to turn away.
For the first time in her life, Amber reached out and made the first move. It was difficult, but only until she touched him. At the contact with his warm, hard body it was the most natural thing in the world to slip her hands around his waist and hug him from behind. "She's okay, Dax."
He nodded and turned, gathering her close. The exhaustion was still there in his expression, but some of the bleak despair seemed to have lifted. That it was herself and Taylor doing that for him gave her a warm burst of something so thrilling, so breathtaking, so wild and fierce, it terrified her.
It was hope.
Was it real? Could it last?
Dax leaned past her, stroked a gentle hand down Taylor's back and with an achingly tender expression, bent and kissed his baby, murmuring something Amber couldn't hear.
Straightening, he looked deep into Amber's eyes as a slow, unbearably sad smile crossed his mouth.
Then he left the room.
Confused, she followed him as he padded down the hallway to his own bedroom.
He didn't turn on the light, but she made out his silhouette as he tugged off his shirt and let it fall. His shoulders slumped as he stood there in the middle of the room, still and silent.
"Dax?"
"I'm fine," he said, emotionlessly. "You don't have to stay."
The only light in the room came from the pale moon shining through the window, so she couldn't see his expression. She didn't have to in order to know he felt empty to the core. "You want me to go?"
A harsh laugh escaped him. "No. But I know you're still afraid of all this, and I'm just vulnerable enough tonight to beg."
"I can't help the fear, Dax," she said carefully. "It's all a part of it for me. But I can tell you what I feel for you is different than anything I've ever felt before."
She felt his surprise.
She closed her eyes for a moment and pressed her fingertips to them while she drew in a deep breath. "I won't deny what's between us, but I feel like I'm on an emotional roller coaster."
"I understand that you like to keep your emotions in check. Hell, you've had to in order to survive, but Amber..." He lifted his broad shoulders helplessly. "I can't do the same."
In the dark his silhouette seemed larger than life, more vital, more full of passion and hope than she could ever be, and never had she felt the lack in herself so much as she did in that moment. "I know," she whispered.
"I won't ever hurt you," he said quietly. "I've told you that. But I can't temper myself, hide my emotions. No matter how much I want you, I can't change. Not even for you."
He was close enough now that she could see him more clearly. The contours of his bare chest were delineated by the faint moon's glow. He was powerful, and he was beautiful.
And he could be hers.
All she had to do was believe it.
He turned away and sank down onto his huge bed. With a little groan, he flopped on his back and covered his face with one arm.
Exhaustion had clearly claimed him.
Was it too late to tell him? Could she find both the courage and the words? "Dax?"
He let out an answering grunt, but didn't budge.
She moved close, until her knees bumped the mattress. She lifted one to the bed and bent over him, gently setting a hand on his bare chest.
At the unexpected heat of him, she nearly pulled back, but the sensation of skin to skin felt so good, she set her other hand on him as well. Then closed her eyes to savor it.
Suddenly his hands came up, tugged her down. Gasping in surprise, she fell over him.
"If you're going to lean over me, staring as I sleep," he muttered, "then at least get down here and keep me company while you're doing it."
Those were the last words he spoke. He drew her close, tucked himself around her, then immediately fell into a deep, exhausted slumber.
He was warm and safe and strong. There was no way to resist snuggling in even closer.
Then she, too, fell asleep.
SHE DREAMED they made love...she could feel him, all of him, skin to skin, burning her, healing her, making her body hum.
She dreamed of his hands skimming over her body, shedding her clothes. The picture was so vivid she could feel the calluses on his fingertips when he touched her bare flesh with such terrifying tenderness it made her weep and press closer.
She dreamed she touched him, too, and under her hands the muscles of his big, tough body quivered. In his eyes she saw need and ecstasy and anguish and oh...
This was no dream.
"You're awake." Indecision and sweet resignation swam in his eyes.
They'd already established she wasn't a morning person, nothing had changed. Then she realized it wasn't morning yet. She blinked in confusion because she was wrapped around him like a blanket.
"I woke up like this," he murmured. "We must have gravitated toward each other in our dreams."
He expected her to walk away. She could hear it in his voice. He thought she'd made a decision about him, about her life, and that decision didn't involve him.
He thought wrong.
"Touch me, Dax."
The strain on his face nearly broke her heart. "I am."
"More."
"It won't change anything," he said tightly. "We'll still be fundamentally at odds, wanting different things, and---"
She shifted closer to that intriguing, throbbing heat pressing between her legs. "Mmm." She grabbed his hands from her hips and slid them over her body. To her waist, her ribs, her breasts.
"Amber." He groaned. "You feel incredible, but---"
"You talk too much." She kissed him softly, then not so softly, drawing him in deeper, and he let out a tortured sigh, deepening the kiss himself. As if he could read her mind, her dream, her need, he caressed her, worshipped her body and set her senses on fire.
"My clothes," she managed as his mouth dipped and nipped over her collarbone, trailing to a breast. His tongue circled her bare nipple, and she arched closer. "Where did my clothes go?" She moaned when his hot, pulsing erection nudged at her wet center. "Where did yours go?"
"We must have shed them in the night."
He rose above her, swirling that inventive, greedy tongue over her other breast, teasing the nipple until she nearly cried.
When she tried to lift up her legs and draw him inside her, he evaded her, slipping down her body. She felt his warm breath high on the inside of her thigh. Equal parts thrill and fear coursed through her. "Um...Dax?"
"Shh. You talk too much." His tongue swirled over her. Then his teeth, and when he sucked her into his mouth, he made her wild, frantic. Shameless. And as the orgasm tore through her, he took her to heights she'd never even imagined.
Unbelievably, he would have rolled away then, but she managed to open her eyes and saw his vulnerability, and understood he appreciated hers.
He wouldn't take advantage of her.
She felt the resolute, unmistakable connection of their hearts and souls, and knew he never could. She reversed their positions, holding him in place as she slowly and torturously experimented on his body with her mouth.
When he tossed back his head, his face tight in a mask of agonized pleasure, she lifted her mouth off of him and licked her lips.
He moaned.
"Am I doing all right?" she whispered.
"You're doing better than all right," he managed in a strangled voice. "And if you stop now, there's every chance I'm going to die on the spot."
Empowered, she gave him a wicked grin before resuming.
In less than two minutes, she had him clawing at the sheets, shaking, begging for release. The thrill of that was such a rush she nearly came from just watching him.
"Love me," she whispered.
"I do." His eyes squeezed shut, hiding himself from her. "Amber---"
"Condom?"
She saw him hesitate, and desperate for the feel of him thick and throbbing inside her, she reared up and opened his nightstand herself.
He made a rough sound, reached past her and grabbed a foil packet. With a new boldness, she took it and attempted to put the thing on, but it wasn't nearly as easy as it seemed it should be. "It's not big enough," she said, surprised when he let out a groaning laugh.
"Amber, stop. This isn't---"
Before he could deny her, she drew his face down to hers, arching her hips as she kissed him, forcing his decision.
A low groan came from deep in his throat, and he barely managed to get the condom on before he thrust into her, hard and deep. "I'm sorry." His voice was as rough and ragged as his breathing. But he held her hips and thrust again.
She wanted to tell him not to be sorry, that this was what she wanted, but all she could do was cry out with the pleasure of him inside her. She tossed back her head and gave him everything she had, and as she did, her heart opened, rejoiced, and in return, received.
When it was over, when she lay limp and exhausted in his arms, their bodies still connected and pulsing with the passion and love they'd shared, she smiled for the first time in too long as she drifted back off into sleep.
DAX HELD Amber in his arms long afterward, listening to her soft, deep breathing, watching her relaxed face. Though he relished the sight of her sprawled against him, though he soaked in each and every lush curve and all the feminine roundness that so turned him on, he almost wished she'd put on some clothes, because even the feel of her creamy, soft skin against his made him want her again.
He had the feeling he would always want her.
The yearning for her spread within him and he pulled her even closer, needing to take what he could before she woke all the way up this time, and remembered she wasn't ready.
It took every bit of restraint he had to keep from kissing her awake, to keep from trying to convince her that what they shared was so incredibly right.
How could she not know?
Or maybe that was it. She did know, and the reality was too frightening.
Her body certainly hadn't had any such reservations. She'd given all of herself, holding nothing back. The way she'd held him, stroked him, the way she'd looked at him, had spoken clearly of her heart's desires.
His own heart raced in remembered response.
He'd never, in all his thirty-two years, been touched the way she'd touched him. She wasn't experienced, no one with that much wonder and awe in her eyes at the simplest of his kisses could be experienced, but she had a surprisingly sensuous, earthy streak and was such a quick study that he got hard just remembering.
He enjoyed everything about her; the easy intelligence in her eyes, her sweet, warm laughter, the wonderful way she mothered Taylor.
Leaving her would be the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, but there was no choice. He was in love with her. Hopelessly, irrevocably in love. It was his first time, but he knew himself, knew that he'd do everything in his power to insure this went his way. He would seduce, cajole and convince her---whatever it took---that they belonged together.
He would probably eventually succeed.
But it would be no good unless Amber decided for herself that they belonged together. No good because he'd never know if it was the path she would have chosen for herself.
In her sleep, she frowned and whimpered, and the sound went through him like a knife. "Shh," he whispered, soothing her with his hands and voice. "I've got you."
Immediately she stilled. The frown faded. So did much of her tension. Her soft, warm breath tickled the skin of his neck. Her feet were snuggled against his, soaking up their warmth and her hands rested trustingly against his chest. Even their hearts beat in unison, he could feel the rhythm echoing through him.
He missed her already, and though he needed to get some sleep, he didn't want to close his eyes, didn't want to miss a minute of this.
God, it hurt, the letting go, but in the end, he could do little else.
AMBER AWOKE to the sound of Taylor's cooing in the next room. It was a happy sound and she smiled.
Until she realized she was in Dax's warm, welcoming bed. Alone. She stretched, looking for him, and at the sight of a note on his pillow, her heart stopped.
Dear Amber,
I had to get back to work.
I'll be busy for several days, maybe more, before I can get another day off. Please, if you can, let my parents have my days with Taylor. They love her and will take care of her.
You can trust them, Amber.
Love, Dax
You can trust them. He apparently thought she didn't know that, and had to be told.
Her own fault, she admitted, closing her eyes. She'd done a good job of letting him think that she was incapable of trust, period.
With a soft groan, she lay back and listened to Taylor's joyous babbling. It should have felt right to wake up in his bed, it would have felt right, if he'd been there.
She'd let him think what they shared was purely physical, let him assume the problems between them were insurmountable. She'd hurt him, and that knowledge was an anguish she'd have to face.
And somehow fix.
14
SHE WAS A COWARD. Not an easy admission, but Amber wouldn't shy away from the truth.
Somewhere along the road, she'd accepted that Dax really did love her. It was a miracle, and it still made her marvel, but she accepted it.
She also accepted that she felt the same.
But she hadn't told him, and that was inexcusable. The words had fairly screamed from her heart last night and she'd kept them to herself. Selfish and afraid, she'd held them near and dear, where they could do little good.
He deserved to know.
It wasn't exactly complimentary that it had taken her so long to really get it, but she could face that, too. She'd been hiding. She'd kept herself from living her life to its fullest because she was afraid.
That was going to change.
Last night had been a turning point for her, and if she was being honest, she also had to admit her transformation hadn't started last night. It had begun a year before in a dark, dirty basement where she'd faced her mortality.
She'd changed.
She'd learned love didn't have to hurt, that she could indeed trust someone other than herself. Dax needed to know that, too, and he needed to be thanked for teaching her that lesson, but before she could even begin to do that, she had to make him understand how much he meant to her.
But he wasn't home, and if he was at work, he wasn't returning her calls. It might have taken her too long, but she'd found the depth of her true feelings for him and she wouldn't give up. She could do this, she could fight for what she wanted.
And what she wanted was Dax McCall in her life, in her home, in her heart.
Forever.
SINCE DAX had made himself so thoroughly scarce and unavailable, Amber was forced to start with something else. Something she'd been wanting to do for awhile.
It required only a trip to the county recorder's office.
She gave Taylor Dax's last name.
They both deserved that, father and daughter, and she wanted Taylor to be a McCall. She thought Dax wanted that, too, and doing it felt right, very right.
There was something else she wanted to do, and while she waited to talk to Dax, she went for that as well. It was tough, and meant swallowing a lot of pride, but it was for Taylor.
Her father answered the phone in his usual gruff, booming voice, and when he heard Amber, he became all the more gruff. "What do you want?"
As she had all of her life, Amber went on the defensive, and strove to cover that with icy coolness. "You told Dax you wanted to see your granddaughter. Was that true?"
"Yes." He cleared his throat, a sign of unease. But her father was never uneasy.
Could he be as nervous as she?
There was a time in Amber's life when she would have been agonizing over this, wishing he would show just the slightest interest, give her one little word of encouragement.
Suddenly---or maybe not so suddenly at all---it didn't matter. She ached for his presence in her life, solely for Taylor's sake now.
Yes, she still wanted a father who approved of her and what she'd done with her life. But she'd learned she was fine without that approval. Better than fine. "Have you changed your mind?"
"Actually, it was more than that."
"I don't understand," she said slowly.
His voice was harsh. Gruff as ever. Irritated. "Can't a man see his only daughter, as well?"
"Me?"
"You hard of hearing, Amber?"
There was no softening in his tough attitude. There came no words of apology or any request for forgiveness. She understood she'd never get that, but it didn't stop her sudden smile. "No, of course not." Amazement gave way to a tentative peace. "You can see us whenever it suits you."
"Well, it suits me."
It suited her, too, and after he'd hung up, Amber reflected on her life, where it was going, and she smiled again.
DAX KNEELED in the destruction and ash of the burned-out apartment building, taking notes. His investigation was in full swing.
But he was no closer to finding the arsonist now then he had been four days ago. Swearing to himself, he stared down at his pad, but he couldn't see a single word. He'd worked himself to near exhaustion.
He'd had to.
The arsonist, whoever he was, was now wanted for more than starting the fire. He would have to be accountable for all the destruction he'd caused, and for the waste of human life.
Murder.
Finding him or her would depend on Dax and how good his investigation was. But damn, it was hard to keep his head straight when his heart hurt. He truly hadn't expected to fall in love, it just hadn't been part of his grand plan. But it was done, there was nothing he could do about it, except go on with his life.
He'd been at work so long his eyes were grainy. The fierce pounding in his head was probably due to lack of food; he couldn't remember when he'd last had a meal. But if he slowed down enough to eat, then his brain would kick in again and he'd be back to ground zero, mooning pathetically over a woman he couldn't have and missing the daughter he wanted to hug with all his heart.
Disgusted with himself, he lurched to his feet. He was doing no good here. He drove to his office, where he intended to read and reread all the reports until he could figure out what he was missing. Then he'd go to his mom's and hold his daughter for awhile.
His office looked like a disaster zone, which was defeating. The desk was piled high with files and other reports, many of which had fallen to the floor, next to a bag of diapers.
For the first time in his career, he stood at the doorway, thinking about the job he loved with all his heart and felt...overwhelmed.
And hungry, damn hungry.
It wasn't a stretch to use that hunger as an excuse to make his way to the kitchen.
There was always food in a fire station, wasn't there? It felt good to be able to count on something, he thought in a rare moment of self-pity. But while there was food in the refrigerator, none of it was prepared.
He went into the connecting room, the "great room," the men called it because of its size. There was a big screen television on its last legs, several couches---all of which had seen better days---a scarred but functional dining room set, and their pride and joy---a pool table.
"Hey!" he called out. "Who's cooking lunch?"
The two on-duty men watching soap operas didn't budge.
The two playing pool kept up their game. Through the open window he could plainly see two more men standing outside where they'd just finished washing their rigs.
No one answered, or so much as glanced his way.
Dax wasn't insulted, he knew all too well why he was being ignored. They had a tacit agreement. It wasn't necessarily a fair one, but it was simple.
He who got hungry first, cooked.
The last one to eat cleaned up.
Most people thought firefighters ate so fast because they were always trying to keep one step ahead of the fire bell. Not true.
They just didn't want to do dishes.
"So nobody's hungry," he said dryly.
Nobody moved.
Of course not. If they answered in the affirmative, then they'd have to cook. If they said no, then they couldn't eat whatever he cooked.
It was tricky, and if he'd been in a more generous mood, he'd have better appreciated the humor. But he had no humor left. "Damn," he muttered and turned back to the kitchen. The laughter that broke out behind him made him swear even more colorfully.
But he cracked the refrigerator open again. He'd lost fair and square.
A nap might have better suited him than preparing spaghetti sauce for the entire gang, but he was stubborn as well as hungry. Cranking up the radio on the counter, he chopped up a green pepper and tried to stay in the moment.
Tried to stay out of his past.
Tried to stay out of the part of his brain that hurt.
The loud, hard, pulsing rock blaring from the radio helped. So did all the food he popped into his mouth instead of into the pot.
But he kept coming back to one thing...Amber had asked him for more time, for some space. It was all she'd ever asked of him.
And he hadn't given it.
The selfishness of that, the pure greed of it, had him stopping in his tracks, a forgotten knife in one hand, a mushroom in the other.
When had he become so rigid, so unyielding?
Disgusted with himself, he chopped more vegetables with a vengeance, nearly slicing off a finger.
He would give her what she wanted, and while it was all fresh in his mind, he yanked the telephone off its hook and dialed her number to tell her so.
When he got her machine, he hung up, frustrated. Fine. She could have her damn time. But he wouldn't let her go. Couldn't let her go.
His ears played a cruel trick on him then. He thought he could hear her voice. To block it out, he cranked up the volume on the radio.
He could still hear her.
Another vicious crank of the dial helped, barely. His ears rang. The floor vibrated with the beat. The windows rattled.
In unison, he heard the guys bellow for him to lower the volume, but he ignored them and had to smile at the irony.
He could still hear her.
One last touch to the radio and he had the volume maxed out.
Ahh, he thought...peace. Finally. Maybe now he could get some damn food into his gnawing gut.
Satisfied, he grabbed a tomato and froze.
She was standing there, or at least he was dreaming that she was. Rubbing his eyes ruthlessly, he blinked the gritty exhaustion away and looked again.
She was still there in the doorway of the kitchen, hands braced on the jamb on either side of her as she looked at him with an unreadable expression on her face.
His heart stopped, then kicked in again with a painfully slow thudding. The clothes she wore were unlike her, softer, more feminine, and incredibly, unwittingly sexy. He couldn't tear his gaze away. The long, flowing, flowery dress was tight in the bodice and flared gently at her hips before falling nearly to her ankles. There was a row of tiny, dainty buttons down the front, starting at the mouthwatering spot just between her full breasts.
She'd never looked so lovely.
God, he wished she was his.
15
DAX TOLD HIMSELF to cool it. She was probably here to go over something about Taylor, and he wondered how he would live through all the time he'd vowed to give her.
She sent him a tentative smile and raised her eyebrows at the music.
With a flick of his wrist, he turned off the radio. The silence was nearly as deafening as the music had been. "Taylor---?" he asked.
"She's fine," Amber said quickly. "She's with your mom."
He nodded, then said gruffly, "I miss her."
She clasped her hands together, but other than that, remained perfectly still. "I know. I...wanted to talk to you."
Great. How was he going to keep from grabbing her and holding on tight? He realized he still held the knife and a tomato, and he set them both down, wiping his hands on a towel because he had to keep them busy. "I'm making lunch."
A smile flickered across her firm, unpainted mouth. Had he ever seen her without lipstick? Yes, he remembered with a violent reaction in his lower body. She'd been sleeping in his bed at the time, a satisfied, cat-in-cream smile on those naked lips.
"I didn't realize you could cook," she said. "Or that you'd..." She trailed off, her voice steady enough, but he could see the telltale sign of a blush creeping up her cheeks.
Interesting. She didn't seem so in control now. "Or that I'd what?"
She lifted a shoulder. "Look so good doing it."
Unfortunately, sweet as that admission was, it only made his ache more pronounced.
The awkward silence settled again and Amber took a step toward him. "I'm sorry to intrude, but I haven't been able to reach you."
"Yeah. About that..."
"Don't be sorry," she said quickly. "I know you've been busy."
Which wasn't exactly the reason he hadn't called or gone by to see her. "Yes, I've been busy," he said carefully, stepping around the counter to face her. "But I've also been a jerk. I should have gotten back to you, but frankly, I was too busy being selfish."
"Selfish?" She laughed at that. "You? I doubt that, Dax."
"I promised not to push, I promised to be patient, and I couldn't do either. I can do better. I can give you your time and space."
"Dax---"
"But I can't let you go. You should know that up front."
"It's okay---"
"No, dammit, it's not."
"Dax---"
"Let me finish. For the first time in my life I broke a promise and I'm sorry for that, so sorry."
"Oh, Dax." Misery crossed her face. "Don't apologize, that's not what I came here for. I wanted to tell you..." She looked at her feet for a long moment before lifting her head again. "I have come to a conclusion," she said in a businesslike tone.
He swallowed. "That sounds bad."
"No." The sophistication fled. "It's just so much harder to tell you than I imagined, and truthfully, I imagined it being pretty tough."
His heart sank. "You can tell me anything, Amber. You know that."
Clearly filled with pent-up energy, she slowly walked the room. "You've been in my head a long time now, Dax."
"Uh...okay." That was good, right?
Her back to him, she studied the wall, which was covered in pictures. The guys had been pinning up photos ever since the station first opened ten years before. There were families, girlfriends, boyfriends, kids...an entire ten years worth of living.
What did she see? he wondered. What did she feel? He wished he knew.
"I know it seems silly," she said to the wall. "To tell you that I can't stop thinking of you."
"I understand perfectly."
She turned to him then. "It's really quite maddening."
He nodded. Definitely maddening.
"You're different, you know. Different from anyone I've ever known."
"Is that different good, or different bad?"
She smiled a full-blown smile that took his breath. "I learned things from you. I learned I didn't have to be strong all the time, that I could lean on someone else once in awhile. I can be independent, Dax, and still let someone in."
"Someone?"
She laughed. Laughed. "You, silly. I let you in."
While he stood there with his mouth open, staring stupidly, she came toward him, smile still in place, her gaze tentative. "I learned to trust you. To let you trust me." Her warm, loving eyes touched him first, then her hands when she stepped close enough to set them on his chest. "And I realized something else, and this is the biggie..." Those clever hands slid up his chest and cupped his face. "I was afraid. I knew and understood that. What I didn't know, or understand, Dax, was your fear."
She curled her fingers in his hair, holding him when he might have stepped back and denied her. "The truth is Daxton McCall, despite your bravado and tough words, you're every bit as scared as I am."
Behind them, the swinging door to the kitchen opened as two of the firefighters stuck their heads in.
"Not that we're admitting anything," one said. "But we're looking for food---Oh. Excuse me." He straightened with a new, more charming smile when he saw Amber. "I didn't realize we had company."
"You don't," Dax said, his eyes still on Amber. "Get out."
"But how about lunch?" asked the other one, shoving his buddy aside and sniffing theatrically. "Something smells good." He winked at Amber. "Or is that you?"
Dax growled at them, and they both quickly backed out.
Amber looked appalled. "Dax! That's no way to treat---"
"Say it again," he demanded, reaching for her, giving her a little shake. He didn't know whether to allow this glimmer of hope within him, and the not knowing was killing him. "Say it!"
"That you obviously need some etiquette classes, or that you're a chicken?"
He grated his teeth. "The chicken part."
"Oh, I think you heard me." Dropping her hands from him, she sashayed away to the counter, and picked up his knife. She hacked at a tomato. "You really changed things for me." Her words were a tad uneven, but her hands were a blur as she demolished the tomato. "You taught me so much about how I could feel for people, about how people could feel for me..."
He came around behind her, sliding his hands along her expressive arms to hold them still. In the interest of both their fingers, he gently set down the knife. "I can't dispute the chicken part," he admitted. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tight, buried his face in her neck. God, he loved her so much. He turned her to face him. "It's true, I used your resistance to reinforce my own. I don't know what I expected would happen between us, but it certainly wasn't for me to fall so deep."
Her eyes filled and she opened her mouth, but he softly set a finger to her lips. "Yes, the thought of a future with just one woman terrified me more than anything I'd ever faced, but I knew there was no other woman for me, anywhere, and there never would be again."
"Oh, Dax." A tear spilled over and he gently swiped it off with his thumb.
"I fell in love with you, Amber," he said huskily. "And I fell good and hard. That was the easy part. The hard part came later, when I realized you didn't feel the same way, and that you might never feel the same. I'm sorry I hurt you, I never meant to."
"I know."
Because he could, he pulled her close and wondered what was going to happen.
"I called my father," she said. "I'm going to see him. For Taylor." She lifted her head from his chest and stroked his jaw as she looked deep into his eyes. "I also changed Taylor's last name, officially, to McCall. I thought that was important."
His heart swelled, but before he could even attempt to tell her how much it meant to him, she dropped her hands from him. "That's part of why I came here today. I wanted you to know what I had done."
That was it? Hello. Let me drive you crazy. See ya?
Her smile wobbled and she carefully stepped back from him. "Well..." She whirled and walked quickly to the door while his heart died a thousand deaths.
Then, before she turned the handle, she hesitated.
Killing him.
"Aren't you even going to try and stop me?" She whirled around to look at him. "You realize I have no idea what I'm doing! I could really use some help here."
His heart leaped into his throat, but before he could say a word, she lifted a hand. "No, wait. Don't help me. That's not right. I'm the one who has to do this, not you."
"Amber..." Had he missed something? "Honey, are you making any sense?"
She drew a deep breath. "Dammit, Dax, I love you, too." Her smile shook badly. "How's that for sense?"
Stunned, all he could do was nod. "It's good."
"I guess I'll have to prove it to you." She swung open the double doors of the kitchen and cleared her throat.
Six curious men turned their heads.
"Listen up everyone..." She looked at Dax over her shoulder. "I love Dax McCall."
Wild cheers, lewd whistles and a chorus of catcalls greeted this announcement. Amber grinned. "Did everyone get that?"
More cheers.
She slammed the doors on them and turned back to Dax, who was still standing there, mouth open, heart pounding, love and shock singing through his veins.
"I meant it," she said quietly, once again clasping her hands together. Her smile was still very shaky and her eyes suspiciously wet. "I really meant it. Now I dare you to be more trusting, to lay more on the line than that!"
Oh, he was up for the challenge, yes he was. With his own shaky smile, he stalked past her and yanked open the kitchen doors. "Okay another announcement...I'm forsaking bachelorhood---"
Loud groans greeted that announcement, which made him laugh. "I'm getting something better, trust me."
Someone called out something about getting lucky every single night with the same woman and Dax grinned. "That, too, but more importantly, I'm going to marry Amber, and spend every single day of the rest of my life a very happy man."
Next to him, Amber gasped. "Marry?"
He hauled her close. "Love conquers all, we know that. We belong together. Say you'll marry me, Amber. Say you'll give me forever."
In tune to the renewed catcalls, laughter and cheers of congratulations, Amber laughed and went up on tiptoe to kiss him. In soft agreement, she said, "Yes, I'll give you forever."
Contents
'IT'S OK, sweetheart. Everything's going to be OK.'
For a split second, paramedic Laura Green envied the girl whose head she was holding. How crazy was that? She tightened her grip to ensure she was providing stability for the potential neck injury of the nineteen-year-old. The girl had been travelling home at the end of a night shift in a rest home. She had rounded a corner too quickly, run smack into the back of a heavy, slow-moving street sweeper and now lay trapped and terrified inside the wreckage of her car.
'Keep very still, Courtney,' Laura reminded her patient. 'Don't try and move your head.'
She could understand why the girl wanted to turn towards the owner of that voice. The words were so comforting, the tone completely sincere, and while the endearment was automatic it had the effect of creating an instant and powerful connection. And it was that connection that Laura envied.
She had never had anyone so totally focussed on her well-being. So committed to protecting and helping her. Not that she would want to experience it in a professional setting like this, of course. Courtney had a fractured right elbow and left femur and goodness only knew what condition her lower legs were in, trapped and hidden beneath the crushed front section of her small car.
A whimper escaped the injured girl as the car rocked slightly. The fireman now crouching beside the open driver's door leaned in far enough to be seen without causing another attempt to move.
'It's OK,' he repeated. His smile was reassuring. 'The car's moving a little because we're putting some blocks in to stabilise things. Then we're going to get you out of here.'
'It hurts...my leg hurts.'
Laura twisted her own head to peer through the shattered glass of a back window. Her partner, Tim, was approaching with a cervical collar in his hand and she could see the other supplies he had set out on a blanket beside the wreck. Some of the tension evaporated as Laura took a deep breath. They could get moving now. Get their patient's neck protected, get some oxygen on, an intravenous line in place and some pain relief on board.
'And...and I'm scared!'
'I know you are, sweetheart. But hang in there. You're doing just fine.'
Tim leaned past the bulky figure of the fireman assigned to patient communication. Laura adjusted her grip to allow the collar room to slip behind the girl's neck. The fireman straightened and stepped back to allow Tim more room to manoeuvre, but his action elicited a forlorn cry from the accident victim.
'Don't go. Oh, please, don't go!'
'I'm right here.' A heavy glove was stripped off and Laura frowned as she saw the fireman catch the fingers of the hand stretched towards him.
'I'm Jason,' the fireman introduced himself. 'What's your name?'
'C-Courtney.'
The neck collar was secured. Tim slipped the elastic of an oxygen mask over the patient's head and squeezed the metal band at the top of the mask to make it a snug fit over her nose.
'Pleased to meet you, Courtney.' Jason's grin made his teeth gleam in the powerful artificial lights now set up to illuminate the rescue scene. 'How're you doing?'
'N-not so good.' The response was broken by a frightened sob.
Tim hung his stethoscope back around his neck. 'Chest's still clear,' he told Laura. 'Equal air entry.'
Laura nodded, but she was reaching into the pocket of her coat with one hand.
'Put some gloves on, Jase.' She passed them over the barrier the front seat created.
'Sure.' The fireman was smiling at Courtney again. 'I'm in trouble now,' he confided. 'Laura's going to tell me off later for forgetting my gloves.'
The sound that now came from the injured girl sounded like a cross between a groan and a giggle.
'I'd rather not cannulate this arm.'
'No.' Laura agreed with Tim's decision. 'Not with that elbow injury.' There was no way of knowing how well the blood vessels were still functioning below an injury like that.
'Have we got access through the passenger door?'
'Not yet.'
'Is that what you need?' Jason's quick shift of attention revealed that his focus wasn't entirely on the girl he was comforting. A quick glance over his shoulder made him nod with satisfaction. 'The gear's all ready to go. We can start cutting wherever you need it.'
'C-cutting?'
'The car, sweetheart---not you.' Jason seemed to fill most of the remaining space in the crushed car as he leaned even closer. 'We're getting you out of here, remember?'
Courtney clung to him with her uninjured hand. 'It hurts,' she sobbed. 'Get me out now.'
'I can reach the other arm,' Laura told Tim. 'Pass me the gear. You should be able to maintain alignment from where you are now that she's in a collar.'
'I can hold her neck,' Jason offered.
'That would be great. I'd like to get a blood pressure done.'
'No!' Courtney refused to release the hand she was holding.
'Keep still, Courtney,' Laura instructed. She squeezed the top half of her body through the gap between the front seats. This job would be so much easier if she were skinny. Even a few kilos off would help. The flash of annoyance increased a second later when she had to push her dislodged spectacles back into place. Small irritations that would normally not distract her at all from the job in hand. Was it simply her close proximity to Jason Halliday that was making her aware of them now?
'Laura needs this hand, love,' Jason was saying. 'Once she gets a little needle in, she can give you something to help that pain.'
'No! I hate needles. And my hand feels funny. Just get me out!'
'What kind of funny?' Laura queried.
'It's got pins and needles.'
Laura caught Tim's glance. With a symptom that suggested an even stronger likelihood of a spinal injury, they were going to have to manage this extrication with particular care.
'It might help if you keep holding her hand, Jase.' Laura tightened the tourniquet and swabbed an area she could reach easily on Courtney's left forearm. 'This shouldn't take long.'
Jason obliged. He also placed his other arm gently on Courtney's shoulder, ready to stop any struggle if necessary. Then he tried to distract the terrified teenager.
'You're lucky you've got our Laura here,' he told her. 'Do you know, I've been working with her for six months now and I haven't heard a single complaint from any of her patients?'
'You haven't met many of my patients,' Laura muttered.
'She's a fireman?' Courtney's surprise indicated that the distraction was working.
'Nah. She's not tall enough to be a fire officer. Our station is a base for both fire and ambulance. Just one of each. We're on the outskirts of town in Inglewood.'
'That's where I live.'
'Cool. You'll have to drop in and visit us. Mrs Mack makes the world's best scones.'
'All done,' Laura announced. 'I'm going to give you some morphine now, Courtney. You're not allergic to any drugs that you know of, are you?'
'No.' The distraction Jason had been providing was still working a treat. 'Who's Mrs Mack?'
'She looks after our station. It's kind of a long story.'
'I'm just giving you something to make sure the morphine doesn't make you feel sick, Courtney.' Laura injected the dose of metaclopramide.
'Is she your wife?'
Jason chuckled and Laura found herself smiling wryly as she snapped off the top of a glass ampoule to add morphine to the saline another syringe already contained. Jason Halliday married? Tied down to single choice from amongst the model-like creatures that entered his social orbit? That would be the day!
'Mrs Mack is at least sixty,' Jason informed Courtney. 'She's Scottish and she's as tough as an old boot. She lives next door to the station and kind of adopted us. We're in an old house that got converted and...'
And Courtney didn't appear to be listening any longer. Her eyelids fluttered shut as the morphine took effect and her distress was obviously diminishing despite the increase in noise and activity of the rescue workers outside the vehicle. Another helmeted figure appeared between Jason and Tim, who was still maintaining Courtney's spinal alignment.
'How do you want to get her out?'
'Straight over the back would be great,' Tim responded. 'We'll tilt the seat back and get a backboard in.'
'Right. We'll get the roof off as soon as we've dealt with these doors.'
Jason looked up at the tarpaulin a colleague was unfolding nearby. 'Things are going to get a bit noisy and messy now, sweetheart,' he told Courtney. 'We're going to cover you up so you don't get hit by any bits of glass or anything.'
Her eyes snapped open. 'Don't leave me.'
'I won't. I'll be right here with you under the covers.' Jason winked. 'My favourite spot when I'm with a gorgeous girl like you.'
'That'd be right.' The grin from his colleague acknowledged the kind of humour and encouragement that only Jason could get away with. Even Laura smiled. He'd be saying the same thing if the accident victim were a seventy-five-year-old grandmother of eight and it would probably have the same effect of keeping their patient comforted and calm.
'We'll need a dash roll as well,' Tim told the fire chief. 'We've got a leg trapped.'
'No problem. You staying in there, Laura?'
'May as well.' She moved back to a position where she could support Courtney's head and neck again. Only she knew that her comment referred to more than providing company for the victim. This was the only way Laura would ever get under any covers with Jason Halliday, but she wasn't complaining. Any job where she got to work with this particular fire crew was a bonus, and being one on one with a patient and only Jason was the closest they had ever worked together.
The car rocked and shook as hydraulic cutting gear was used to open it up like a giant sardine can. Tiny shards of glass peppered the tarpaulin sheltering those still inside the vehicle, and Laura made sure she kept Courtney's head immobile. A more violent rocking motion occurred as the roof was lifted clear of the car and Laura could hear the grin in Jason's voice.
'The earth sure moved for me. How're you doing, Courtney?'
'I'm fine.'
Amazingly, the injured girl did sound fine and Laura's lips curved a little, unseen in the darkness of their covering. Jason's somewhat unorthodox communication skills were a new experience and, surprisingly, she liked them. Six months ago she wouldn't have believed it could be remotely possible to add humour or---heaven forbid---flirting to an accident scene with beneficial results, but it worked. The Green Watch fire crew of Inglewood station were a closely bonded team of intelligent and dedicated firemen and Jason, in particular, had a gift of lightening even the grimmest of atmospheres.
He had his work cut out for him in the next few minutes as the tarpaulin was removed and the rescue shifted into a higher gear. The car was now completely open to the elements with the windscreen, roof and doors removed. The predawn chill was noticeable and scene time had already been nearly twenty minutes. Everyone wanted to move as quickly as possible now and get their patient to the medical care she needed.
The dash roll that lifted crushed metal from Courtney's right leg revealed a nasty compound fracture of her tib-fib. She tried to move her leg as the weight was lifted but her foot was trapped beneath the brake pedal and she screamed as her pain level skyrocketed. The blood loss was also increasing. Laura opened the flow on the IV fluids she now had running.
'Can you draw up another 10 milligrams of morphine, Tim?'
'Got it here,' her partner responded. 'Ready for the backboard?'
'Not yet. Her foot's still trapped.'
'I can deal with that.' Jason still had a heavy protective glove on one hand. He reached carefully past the gaping wound on Courtney's leg to ease his fingers between her foot and the top of the pedal. Only Laura noticed the way the lines deepened at the corners of his eyes. To anyone else he must have made bending the pedal upwards far enough to clear the trapped foot appear effortless.
'Ah-h-h! It hurts!'
'Almost there, love.' Jason's tone was calmly reassuring. 'We're going to tip your seat back now and slide a board underneath you.'
Too many figures were crowding in now and Courtney's grip on Jason's hand was lost as they finally lifted her clear of the wreck.
'BP was 80 systolic five minutes ago,' Laura told Tim. 'We need to get another line in.'
'Hare traction on that femur before we roll?'
Laura nodded. The low blood pressure could well be caused by the blood loss associated with the fractured bones Courtney had sustained. It was a two-person job to apply a traction splint so it wasn't something that could be done en route. It would mean a delay of another few minutes before transporting, but effective splinting would help control further blood loss and was therefore a priority.
It wasn't just the fire officers of Green Watch she was lucky to be working with, Laura decided as the ambulance rolled clear of the accident scene only three minutes later. Tim was one of the most competent paramedics she had ever had as a partner and they were perfectly matched to remain calm and efficient in virtually any circumstances. A few years over Laura's twenty-nine, Tim had the added advantage of more experience and he also had the kind of laid-back personality that made him fit in seamlessly at Inglewood station despite being in a different emergency service. He was just one of the boys.
As was Laura now. The novelty of having a female officer on the watch had worn off rapidly. A shade too rapidly maybe, but who could blame them for losing any interest her gender might have sparked? And it didn't matter. She was part of a great team and she'd be delighted to be considered an honorary bloke if only it wasn't for---
'How's it going back there?'
'Fine.' Laura scribbled down the update of recordings she'd been making automatically as her mind wandered. 'BP's up---100 over 60. Oxygen saturation is 98 per cent on 15 litres. Sinus tachy at 110.'
'We'll be at the hospital in about eight minutes.'
'OK. I'll radio through in a minute.' Laura turned back to her patient. 'How's the pain score out of ten now, Courtney?'
'About four, I guess.'
'That's a lot better but I'll give you a little bit more morphine. I'd like to get it down to at least two if I can.'
Caring for a multi-trauma patient en route gave little time to attend to paperwork so Laura completed the task using a spare patch of counter in the trauma room as the emergency department staff assessed the new arrival. By the time she was finished, X-rays had been completed and Courtney was being readied for Theatre where the orthopaedic surgeon would need to deal with the open lower leg fracture and the dislocation-fracture of her right elbow. Laura paused on her way out with the completed paperwork.
'All the best, Courtney. You're in good hands. You've got one of the best orthopaedic surgeons in town coming in to fix you up.'
'I just want to get it over with,' Courtney groaned. 'But thanks...for everything.'
'You're very welcome.'
'And can you thank that fireman for me? What was his name?'
'Jase. Jason Halliday.'
'Yeah, that's him. He was fantastic.'
'I'll tell him.' Laura had to suppress a wistful smile. It wasn't something she could tell Jason herself, no matter how much she might agree with the sentiment.
'How old is Jason?'
Perhaps Laura would also need to tell him that his techniques of distracting a patient had long-lasting effects. Courtney didn't look as though she was thinking about her injuries or impending surgery at all right now.
'Ancient.' Laura smiled. 'Pushing forty.'
'Oh...he didn't seem that old.'
Laura wasn't really lying. Anything over thirty was on the way to forty, wasn't it? And thirty-two was still far too old for a nineteen-year-old.
'He's really nice, isn't he?'
'Mmm. I'd better go now, Courtney. Looks like they're nearly ready to move you.'
Tim appeared in the trauma room doorway. 'We're all cleaned up and ready to go,' he told Laura. 'And I can almost smell Mrs M.'s bacon and eggs. You ready?'
Laura was more than ready to head back and finish her shift but her most recent patient wasn't quite ready to let her go.
'I couldn't really see what he looked like with that uniform and everything. Is he cute?'
'Cute' wasn't the word Laura would have chosen. Jason Halliday could be used as a pin-up model for the fire service any day. Six feet two inches with a build to match his height. Sun-streaked, curly hair, dark blue eyes and a killer smile. There was only one word to describe Jason and that was...perfect.
'Imagine your typical surfer and add ten years and a pot belly.'
'Oh...He said he wasn't married, though, didn't he? Has he got a girlfriend?'
''Fraid so.' Laura's smile was not without sympathy but she escaped without offering any consolation in the face of Courtney's obvious disappointment. She could have said that Maxine was only a newbie and might not last long but what was the point? She knew only too well the strength of attraction Jason Halliday could inspire and this teenager had as much hope of sparking a reciprocal interest as she herself had.
Well, maybe that was wishful thinking. Courtney was slim, probably several inches taller than Laura's five feet two inches and her hair was an attractive russet rather than dead mouse, but even so she didn't measure up to Jason's usual standards in female companions. Better to be briefly disappointed now than to carry a torch and find the flame not only refused to get extinguished but simply burned a little brighter with every passing week.
'Jase is going to kill you when he hears about that "pot belly" remark,' Tim informed her a few minutes later.
'Only if you tell him,' Laura countered. She indicated a right turn and slowed the ambulance as she reached the main route back to their station. 'And if you do, I'll tell Mrs Mack who walked over her clean lino with those muddy boots last week.'
'You wouldn't!' Tim's expression feigned fear. Then he grinned. 'OK, my lips are sealed.' He tipped his head back and closed his eyes wearily. 'Can't say I blame you for trying to put her off. We get quite enough women turning up asking for our Jase as it is.' His tone became thoughtful. 'I wonder what it's like to be so compellingly attractive to the opposite sex?'
'Boring,' Laura said firmly. 'You can have too much of a good thing, you know.'
'No.' Tim sounded almost wistful now. 'I wouldn't know.'
Laura snorted softly. 'Join the club, Tim. I think I'm the founding member.'
'Oh, come on. I don't believe that for a minute.' Tim's quiet voice was suddenly serious. 'You're great, Laura. Best partner I've ever had. You're a brilliant paramedic, you've got a terrific sense of humour and...and your smile's lovely.'
'Thanks.' Laura's wry tone acknowledged the hesitation before Tim had found something physical to praise. 'I'm also short, fat and I wear glasses.'
'So?'
'So men don't make passes at girls who wear glasses.'
Tim's snort was much more definite than Laura's had been. He grinned again. 'So take them off when you want someone to make a pass at you.'
Laura laughed. If only it was that easy. Even the wry amusement lifted her spirits, however. 'Has anyone ever told you that you're a nice person, Tim?'
'Nah. The last woman that dumped me had a considerable command of adjectives that let me know precisely how boring I am.'
'You're not boring, Tim.' Laura pulled the ambulance to a halt and then started backing into the garage. 'You're dependable. Safe.'
'Ha! Safe is pretty close to boring if you ask me. Women want excitement, not safety.'
'There's a woman out there who's going to find safe pretty exciting.' Laura smiled at Tim. 'Hey, you're the best partner I've ever had. I love working with you.' It was just such a shame it hadn't been Tim she'd fallen in love with, but life was never that neat, was it?
'We do have fun, don't we?'
'Sure do. I can't believe I've been here for six months already. Seems like only last week I was wondering what it would be like to be stationed with a fire crew instead of just ambulance.' Laura climbed out of the driver's seat and walked around to join Tim at the back of the vehicle. 'I still haven't got over how funny they are, though.'
'What?'
'The boots.' Laura pointed to where the crew's heavy footwear was lined up, the tops of the boots protruding through the rolled-down legs of protective over-trousers. 'It looks for all the world like a crew was standing around the truck and they all got vaporised by some alien force or something.'
'Makes for a quick getaway.'
'I know.' Laura had seen Jason and his colleagues respond to a call. Feet slid into boots, over-trousers were yanked up and secured by elastic braces, and matching, heavy, mustard-yellow jackets with reflecting stripes were grabbed from the locker room along with helmets. The items of protective outer clothing were always left in precisely the same position on returning to the station, which left the officers wearing their uniforms of black trousers and navy blue Tshirts emblazoned with the red and white fire service logo.
As they were now. Laura and Tim had elected to wait until closer to the end of their shift before restocking and cleaning the ambulance. They had enough supplies if they got another call, and tempting fate by having a freshly prepared truck for the oncoming crew was not a good idea this close to their finishing time of seven a.m. A late call after a busy night such as they'd just had would not be welcome.
They entered the old house through the automatic side door that now joined it to the large, purpose-built garaging. The spacious lounge that ran nearly the whole width of the lower floor had become a common room, filled with comfortable furniture. The couches and chairs were being well patronised by weary men at the moment, half of whom had their feet resting on the coffee-tables. The other half had their footwear resting on the arms of the couches.
'In the name of St Bride!' Laura did her best to imitate the broad accent that fifty years of living in New Zealand hadn't dampened in Mrs McKendry's case. 'How many times do I have to tell you boys to keep your dratted feet off that furniture?'
To her delight, the accent and surprise factor were enough to initiate a guilty leap into compliance. Her laughter caused more than one head to turn, and then the amusement was general.
'Good one, Laura!' Tim shook his head at the firemen. 'You should have seen yourselves jump!'
'Lucky I didn't scream,' Cliff complained. 'She's just as scary as Mrs M.'
'Ah...but can she cook bacon and eggs?'
'And polish the furniture?'
'And get nasty stains out of any clothes?'
'Even Mrs M. couldn't get the stains out of your underwear, Stick.'
Laura shook her head and flopped into the nearest available armchair during the laughter that followed the last flippant remark. Maybe she was just too tired to feel amused. Or maybe the idea that she might measure up to the perfect housekeeper cut a little too close to the bone. She could do all those things but she wasn't going to be some man's housekeeper ever again. Not when that ended up being the main attraction she possessed.
Several pairs of eyes were fastened on the wall clock.
'It's 6.15.'
'Mmm. That bacon will be in the pan any minute now.'
'Why don't you do it for yourselves for once?'
That wasn't a suggestion one of the boys would have considered making. Laura found she had caused a brief but rather surprised silence. Jason looked positively bewildered.
'What...and make Mrs M. feel like she's not wanted?'
Laura's sigh revealed that she didn't have the energy to try and re-educate the men around her. Maybe it was an impossible task anyway. Was that why John had never lifted a finger in the kitchen? Or the bathroom, or anywhere else for that matter? Had he, in fact, been a kind and caring partner who had simply been trying to show her how much he'd needed her? Ha!
'She would be upset.' Tim's glance was speculative and Laura knew she deserved the gentle reprimand. The men of Inglewood station might complain and joke about Jean McKendry when she wasn't around, but she was part of the family if anyone else tried it. And the kitchen was strictly her domain during her 'office' hours.
'We've never asked her to do any of the stuff she does for us, you know,' Bruce added. 'She's just become an institution---ever since she popped over with a plate of scones the day this station opened five years ago.'
'Yeah, it just grew.' Cliff nodded. 'By the end of the year she was here every day, all day, cleaning and cooking.'
'And making sure we all had a clean hanky.'
'At least she gets paid for it now,' Bruce told Laura. 'And we all put in to buy all the food she insists on cooking us.'
'She loves us,' Jason said. He still looked puzzled. 'She wants to do it.'
'I know.' Laura smiled. 'She's wonderful and we're the envy of any other peripheral city station. Sorry.' She pushed her glasses up and rubbed the bridge of her nose. 'I'm just tired, I guess, and from where I'm sitting it's easy to take offence at the idea of a perfect woman's attributes being how easy she can make life for others.'
The second brief silence had a contrite air to it.
'Hey, we weren't getting at you, Laura.'
'No...we don't think of you as a woman.'
'Gee, thanks.' Not only was she the only member of Green Watch not to have earned some kind of nickname, they didn't even see her as being female.
'That wasn't helpful, Stick,' Jason said firmly. He gave Laura one of his killer smiles. 'What he meant was that you're one of us.'
'One of the boys,' Bruce put in kindly.
'No.' Jason sounded even firmer. 'Laura is most definitely not a boy. Heck, even I'm not that blind.'
Laura couldn't help smiling. Or help the pathetic little glow that started somewhere inside at the thought that Jason had not only noticed her femininity, he was defending her. Then her smile faded. What had the comment really meant...that it was really so hard to see anything attractive about her?
'We're not really chauvinistic,' Bruce said a little defensively. 'But this job requires people with pretty assertive personalities. So does yours. You wouldn't expect a firefighter who's risked life and limb to pull someone from a burning house or cut open a wrecked vehicle to extricate the injured to go home and bake a cake or clean a toilet, would you?'
'Why not? You'd expect me to,' Laura told them. 'I've just been squished inside a car wreck looking after the injured, but I bet you wouldn't put up too much of a fight if I offered to go and make you all coffee or throw some bacon and eggs together.'
'Mmm.' The sound was a frustrated groan. 'Bacon and eggs!'
'Don't worry, Laura,' Tim said. 'We all know you're just as much of a hero as we are.'
'Yeah.' Cliff winked at her. 'Maybe you need a wife as well.'
Laura gritted her teeth. She knew they were teasing her but it was easy to think that her protest had not made the slightest impression on any prejudice held by these men. And what did it matter, anyway? She couldn't imagine being attracted to a man who was keen to bake cakes or clean toilets. She'd never wanted to find a sensitive New Age guy. She was just twisted and bitter because John had never really wanted her for herself. Apart from the freely available sex, he would probably have been happier being married to Jean McKendry.
Jason seemed to have picked up at least part of her thoughts by telepathy.
'You should also know,' he said seriously, 'that we don't consider Mrs M. to be the perfect woman.'
'No.' Stick grinned. 'She's about forty years past her use by date.'
'And she's grumpy as hell.'
'Yeah.' Jason rubbed his elbow reflectively. 'She hit me with a wooden spoon the other day.'
'Well, you were sticking your dirty, fat finger in her gravy.'
'I was only tasting it.'
The mention of food provoked another general glance towards the clock and yet another short silence.
'What was that?' Laura frowned at the faint but noticeably unusual sound.
'Just a cat.'
'Gate squeaking?' Cliff suggested hopefully. 'Mrs M. arriving for breakfast?'
'Jeez, we'd better not get another callout,' Jason said unhappily. 'I'm starving.'
'You're always starving, Jase.'
'Can't help it. I'm a growing lad.'
'We've noticed.' Stick leaned over the side of the chair and poked Jason's midriff. 'You'd better watch out, mate. Pot belly city!'
Laura's lips twitched as she gave Tim a warning glance. He grinned and raised his eyebrows as though acknowledging that Laura might have already been provocative enough, especially for this time of day.
They were all startled at the sound made by the original back door of the house. Not that it wasn't Mrs McKendry's normal entranceway, but she didn't usually open and shut it with quite such purpose. The room fell uncomfortably silent now. Mrs M. wasn't happy. Someone had upset her and they were all likely to suffer the consequences. Laura was suddenly acutely aware of just how right her colleagues had been not to trespass on their housekeeper's self-designated areas of responsibility.
Never mind the culinary and other benefits they all received---letting Jean McKendry think she was indispensable was actually an act of kindness. Looking after Inglewood station was her life and while she could be nosy, grumpy and always opinionated, she was never unfair. If she was this upset there would be a good reason for it.
The determined tap of sensible, low-heeled shoes got louder as Mrs McKendry traversed the kitchen's linoleum floor. All eyes were drawn to the arched opening that joined the dining-room end of the lounge to the kitchen that ran along the other side of the house. Those same eyes swivelled in unison to the large cardboard box that Mrs M. deposited carefully on the table. Wiry arms were now folded in front of the small woman's spare frame. And, in case her body language wasn't enough to let them know that this time they were in serious trouble, her tone backed it up more than adequately.
'I'm waiting,' she snapped.
'What for, Mackie?' Jason's smile was one of his most winning. It wasn't even directed at Laura and it was enough to melt her bones. Using the affectionate nickname had to be overkill, surely? 'What have we done?'
'I know what one of you has done,' Mrs M. enunciated with precision. 'What I want to know is, who is responsible?'
'Who is responsible for what?'
A sound rather similar to a cat's mew or a gate squeaking was suddenly produced by the box on the table. Mrs McKendry's lips almost disappeared into a straight, grim line.
'Who is responsible for this puir wee bairn being left on the back doorstep of Inglewood station?'
A SPELL had been cast.
Laura experienced an odd sensation, as though a wand had actually been waved over the group of people sitting in the lounge of the Inglewood emergency response station. An electric tingle---a feeling she was unable to identify on the spectrum between elation and fear---ran through her entire body, and she knew without a shadow of doubt that the axis of her world was tilting.
Only an insignificant amount of time followed Mrs McKendry's startling demand but it marked the transition between normal life and something totally unknown. One minute they had all been slumped in various positions of rest, filling in time and carefully not tempting fate by saying they were probably safe from the disruption of a late callout, and now they were suddenly involved in a disruption that was completely without precedent.
Laura wasn't the only one to be stunned. Or to feel nervous in taking that first step of an unknown journey. The whole of Green Watch was moving. Slowly, silently, they approached the box on the table with as much caution as if it contained a live cobra.
Stick was the first to open his mouth. His nickname had been derived from affectionate ribbing that he'd been hit more than once by the ugly one. Right now, his pockmarked face had softened dramatically and his incredulous smile was almost as large as his nose.
'It's a baby!'
The murmur was probably intended to be a personal observation but the silence surrounding him was so profound the words might as well have been shouted.
'Go to the top of the class, Stick.' Bruce grinned.
'Is it a girl or a boy?' Tim queried.
'It's not colour-coded,' Jason complained. 'How are we supposed to know?'
'Change its nappy,' Cliff advised knowledgeably.
'Not on your life!' Jason held both hands up, palms outwards, and leaned back to emphasise the invisible barrier. 'I don't do babies.'
'Someone did,' Mrs McKendry snapped. Her arms were still folded and she was tapping one foot impatiently. 'And I'd like to know who.'
'Wasn't me,' Jason declared firmly.
'Or me,' Stick and Cliff said simultaneously.
'Definitely wasn't me.' Tim raised an eyebrow at Laura and she smiled. Having a baby dumped on your doorstep certainly wasn't a boring thing to happen.
'I should be so lucky,' Bruce sighed.
They all stared at the infant. Fluffy, dark blue polar fleece fabric with cute yellow ducks on it had been folded to form a mattress in the box. The baby had been wrapped in a blanket of the same fleece but tiny limbs had been active enough to loosen the covering and miniature hands could be seen poking from the armholes of a white stretch suit. A tiny fist threatened to clout its owner's cheek but somehow it escaped causing pain and settled against a questing mouth instead. Surprisingly loud sucking noises filled the new silence and large dark blue eyes stared up fearlessly at the crowd of faces leaning over the box.
'It's hungry.' As a father of three, Cliff was entitled to take the lead as far as experience in such matters went.
'Could be hereditary.' Stick gave one of his usual cheerful grins. 'Who's always hungry around here?'
'Don't look at me!' Jason's eyes widened in alarm. 'I told you, I don't do babies. I'm careful, man. Always have been.'
'There's always one that slips through the net.'
There was a ripple of laughter. 'Especially when the catch is that big!'
'It has got blond hair,' Bruce observed. 'Except I don't suppose it means that much at this age.'
'How old do you reckon it is?'
For some reason everyone looked at Laura. Was she supposed to know the answer due to some feminine intuition? Had she always been lumped in the 'motherly type' basket? Or had everybody simply noticed how quiet she'd been so far? Cliff wasn't about to be outdone in the knowledge stakes, however.
'It's pretty newly hatched, I'd say. Two or three weeks?'
Laura caught her breath but her reaction had nothing to do with the thought of such a young baby being abandoned. She had just realised why the baby's face was so fascinating.
The eyes weren't really that dark. They were blue, certainly. A lovely sort of cornflower blue. They gave the initial appearance of darkness because of the edging to the iris, which was a shade deep enough to compete with the pupil. Why had nobody else noticed such an obvious genetic link to a potential parent in this group of men? There was only one person who had eyes like that.
And they were exactly like that.
Another frisson of an unidentifiable emotion caught Laura unexpectedly. Jealousy, perhaps? No. It was more like a feeling of connection to that baby. A longing to touch it. To pick it up. When the little fist was suddenly flung free of the sucking mouth and a tiny face crumpled and reddened she had no hesitation in reaching into the box.
Nobody else was going to do it, she told herself. The men were backing off in alarm at the deterioration in the baby's mood. At her touch, the screwed-up face relaxed and the tiny fist unfurled to encompass her finger. Laura smiled into a carbon copy of Jason Halliday's eyes.
'Hello, there,' she whispered.
Only a few short minutes had passed since Mrs McKendry had dropped this bombshell in their midst but it was very unusual that the older woman had not yet said more than she had. Nobody was surprised to hear her begin to issue some firm instructions.
'Sit down at this table---every last one of you. I don't care if half of Wellington burns to the ground. You're no' going anywhere till we get to the bottom of this.'
Amazingly, the whole group of burly, dedicated firefighters complied. They were all out of their depth right now and it clearly came as a relief for their self-appointed surrogate mother to take charge.
'We should call the police,' Bruce suggested mildly. 'It's a criminal offence to leave a baby unattended.'
The look he received questioned his level of intelligence rather eloquently. 'Whoever left this bairn had reason to think it would be attended to.'
A dainty foot tapped on linoleum in the silence that followed.
'And there can be only one explanation for that. One of you is this baby's father.'
'You're lucky.' Jason's comment was directed at Laura, who, along with Mrs McKendry, was the only person now standing. 'It can't be yours. I think we would have noticed.'
The chuckle of appreciation at the attempt to lift the atmosphere was short-lived and it hadn't even raised a smile as far as Laura was concerned. Carrying a full-term baby may well have made her large enough for Jason to notice. In fact, it was probably the only way he'd really notice her as a woman.
As though her resentment was contagious, the baby emitted a fractious cry and Laura did what she'd been wanting to do ever since she'd first seen what was in the box. She scooped the baby up and cradled it in her arms.
It was crying in earnest now and there was no doubt it was well overdue for a nappy change but Laura didn't mind. The slight weight of the infant in her arms triggered an instinctive and remarkably fierce desire to protect and comfort it. She rocked her noisy, smelly bundle and directed soothing words towards its ear. The words she spoke were unimportant. So was what was being said around her for the next few moments.
The first Red Watch arrivals to take over the day shift started to form a secondary tier of astonished spectators. As far as these men were concerned they were not involved. The baby had been left during the night, therefore it had to be someone on Green Watch who was implicated as the father. Some even found the situation highly amusing.
'No wonder someone left it on the doorstep. Noisy little bugger, isn't it?'
'Don't get too close. It doesn't smell great either.'
'Let's put it back where Mrs Mack found it.' The speaker suddenly thought of an urgent job that needed attending to as he felt the heat of Jean McKendry's glare.
'I still think we should call the police,' Bruce said heavily. 'Or Social Welfare. We can't sit here all day, Mrs M. We've had a busy night shift and what we need is some sleep.'
'What she needs is feeding,' Laura informed them. How she knew it was a girl was not questioned.
'Bacon and eggs?' Jason suggested hopefully. They all looked at Mrs McKendry but any prospect of a cooked breakfast evaporated instantly on reading her face.
'I'll make some toast,' someone on Red Watch offered. 'Have you guys cleaned the truck?'
'We're not allowed to move,' Stick responded gloomily. 'Not until one of us owns up to fathering this kid.'
'Don't worry.' Red Watch members were backing away now. 'We'll do it.'
The new crew for the ambulance day shift was equally cooperative. Helpful, even.
'We could go out and find some formula or something at the supermarket.'
The pager messages signalling a priority-one callout to a chest pain put an end to that scheme. Within another few minutes the hooter sounded to alert the fire crew.
'Alarm sounding at a warehouse on the corner of George and Matton streets,' the loudspeaker announced. 'Smoke seen to be coming from the rear of the building.'
Green Watch members could see the departing vehicles through the dining-room's window. They listened to the fading sirens with almost defeated expressions.
'This isn't getting us anywhere,' Bruce declared finally. 'Look, Mrs M. If one of us had any idea that we were related to this baby we would have said so by now.'
Raised eyebrows and pursed lips suggested that this was not necessarily an accurate assumption.
'Half of us are married. We've got families of our own.'
'Precisely. A good reason not to confess, wouldn't you say?'
Laura was jiggling an increasingly unhappy infant now. No one knew how long this baby had been outside in the box. It might have been hours since its last feed. Her reluctance to cast the first stone was wearing thinner by the minute. If this carried on any longer she was going to open her mouth and point out the obvious. Why hadn't anyone else noticed yet? She shifted the baby's weight slightly and became aware that the patch of blanket under her arm was distinctly damp.
'Stick, could you get that other blanket out of the box?' Laura asked. 'She's leaking a bit and getting cold won't make her any happier.'
'Hope you've got gloves on.' Jason blinked at the look he received from Laura. 'Hey! What have I done?'
He found out soon enough. As Stick pulled the folded fleece from the box his eyes widened.
'There's stuff in here,' he exclaimed. 'A bottle and a tin of baby food. There's nappies and---What the hell is this?'
The piece of paper said it all. Officially stamped by the authority vested in the registrar of births, deaths and marriages, it gave all the information Mrs McKendry had been waiting for. She peered at the certificate and then transferred a steely gaze to one of the men staring anxiously back.
'Jason Halliday. What have you got to say for yourself now?'
'Huh?'
The piece of paper was passed along the table and everyone had scanned it by the time Bruce handed it to Jason.
'Here you go...Dad.'
Jason's colour had faded to give his bewilderment a decidedly pale background. He stared at the birth certificate, with his name handwritten on the empty line for 'Father's Name', for a seemingly interminable length of time. It became too long for his audience.
'Megan's a nice name,' Cliff said hesitantly.
'It's her one-month birthday today,' Bruce added.
'She was born in England,' Stick said kindly. 'You can't really be blamed for having missed the big event, Jase.'
Laura said nothing. She reached into the box and extracted a disposable nappy, some wipes and a clean stretchsuit. She could still see Jason when she moved towards one of the couches to find room to put the baby down. She could see growing consternation replacing shocked disbelief.
'So.' Mrs McKendry looked up from where she was reading the instructions on the tin of formula. 'I take it you were no' informed about this baby's existence, Jason?'
'No. Someone's made a mistake.' Jason rested his forehead on the palms of both hands. 'A really big mistake.'
Bruce reached for the certificate again. 'The mother's name is Shelley. Shelley Bates.'
'I don't know any Shelleys,' Jason said miserably. 'Never have.'
'It says here that her occupation is a model.'
Laura wasn't the only one to see how well that fitted.
'You've been out with plenty of models, Jase.'
'I don't sleep with them all,' Jason said defensively. 'In fact, I haven't had a good s---' He stopped abruptly, glanced up at Mrs McKendry who was still standing at the other end of the table, groaned and buried his face in his hands again. 'It doesn't matter,' he muttered.
Laura disagreed. She was very interested to hear that Jason didn't have sex with every female that gave him the opportunity. She stuck down the tabs to hold the fresh nappy secure. She would also very much like to know how long it had been since he'd had a good...whatever crude noun he'd been tempted to use to describe the experience. It couldn't have been more than ten months ago, that was for sure.
'I guess we're off the hook.' Bruce yawned. 'We could go home now, eh, Mrs Mack?'
'No!' Jason's face appeared again. 'I don't know anyone called Shelley and I haven't been in England for six years. This has to be a mistake.'
'Why would someone make a mistake like that?'
'Maybe it didn't happen in England,' Cliff said thoughtfully. 'Maybe Shelley whoever she is was in New Zealand on holiday.'
'A holiday with Halliday.' Stick chuckled. His smile faded rapidly as he realised his quip was not appreciated.
'I don't care where Shelley was. Or who she was with. It wasn't me.'
'The bairn's four weeks old.' Mrs McKendry had moved to the kitchen bench and was spooning formula into the bottle. 'That means she was conceived about nine to ten months ago.'
'December,' Stick said helpfully. 'No...more like late January.'
'Let's say New Year, give or take a week or two.'
'Can you remember that far back, Jase?'
'You were going out with Britney,' Cliff declared. 'I remember her. Red hair and legs up to her---'
'That was March. We broke up at Easter when we had an argument about chocolate bunnies.'
'OK, what about Melissa? You know, the one with those Pamela Anderson---'
'She was after Britney,' Jason interrupted swiftly. 'I think.'
'No...I'm sure she was the one that came to that barbecue we had on the beach in February. Yellow bikini?'
Laura hadn't forgotten that yellow bikini---or the assets it had supported. She glanced up from fastening the snaps on the stretchsuit, intending to direct a 'you know you deserve everything that's coming' glance, but to her astonishment, the tips of Jason's ears were bright pink. Good grief---the man was embarrassed!
He should be ashamed of himself if he couldn't even remember the order or names of the string of women in his life. Maybe this was the first occasion he'd ever had to consider the repercussions of such an active social life. Or maybe he was disturbed by the wider picture he was currently having to confront. In any case, Laura liked the fact that he was embarrassed. She picked up the baby again and her lips curved into a smile against the soft wisps of blonde hair.
'Daddy's blushing,' she whispered. 'How about that?'
'Daddy' was still fielding a list of potential conquests that might have had confusing names.
'What about Charlotte?'
'Sounds a bit like Shelley.'
Despite the spotlight being so firmly on Jason, even Bruce, who was stifling frequent yawns, was not about to leave his fellow firefighter in the lurch and go home for some well-deserved rest. Stick shook his head sorrowfully.
'This should be a lesson to us all. Anyone could just scribble in our names on some bloody birth certificate.'
'Speak for yourself, mate. I'm happily married.'
'DNA,' Cliff said with relief. 'You could get a test, Jase, and prove it's not yours.'
'That could take weeks! What the hell am I supposed to do with it in the meantime?'
'Maybe the mother's only gone shopping or something. She could be back any minute.'
'Yeah, right. Like she's come all the way from England for a spot of shopping and she leaves the baby on a doorstep in the middle of the night so she doesn't have to bother finding a babysitter.'
Laura sat down at the table and Mrs McKendry silently handed her the bottle of formula. Tentatively, she poked the teat into the baby's mouth and to her delight it was accepted enthusiastically.
'Well, that's a blessing,' Mrs McKendry said. 'At least she's used to a bottle.'
Laura could feel the rhythmic tug of the sucking movements. The baby's wide-eyed gaze fastened onto hers as though she was receiving the nourishment via some kind of visual connection. Laura found herself smiling.
'Oh...she's gorgeous!'
'Aye.' Jean McKendry's expression softened noticeably. Then she pushed her spectacles more firmly onto the bridge of her nose and leaned a little closer to peer at the baby's face.
'It was Sharon!' Jason announced.
'What was?'
'The woman who's set me up. It has to be.' Jason nodded to confirm his own statement. 'A girl from England that I met when I had that summer holiday in the Coromandel.'
'Sure it wasn't Shelley?'
Jason frowned in concentration. 'She had a sister and I remember that their names were alike enough to be confusing. It was a bit of a joke and they didn't mind when I got it wrong.' Jason nodded again, more slowly this time. 'That must be where this has come from. Sharon's sister has had a baby and they've decided to name me as the father.'
'Maybe they want to emigrate or something,' Cliff suggested.
'Of course, that's what it'll be. It's pretty hard to get into the country and having a New Zealand father for a child is probably a great start.'
'Marrying the New Zealand father would have been a much safer plan,' Laura said dryly. 'I mean, writing in your name like that doesn't make you the legal father. Why didn't she turn up months ago?'
'Dunno.' Jason shrugged. 'Maybe the sisters didn't get together and come up with the plan until after the baby was born.'
'How much alike did these sisters look, Jase?'
'Identical. They were twins. Long blonde hair and cute accents. Young, though. I think they were only about nineteen.' Jason rubbed the back of his neck as though something was hurting. 'I suppose it could have been Shelley. Names didn't actually seem that important at the time.'
The sniff that emanated from Mrs McKendry's direction was an expression of frank disapproval.
'It was only one night,' Jason sighed. 'There was this big beach party. Hey, I was on holiday. You're supposed to have a good time on holiday!'
'Not that good,' Stick said enviously.
'And not with twins!' Tim sounded appalled.
'It wasn't with both of them. It was...I was...Oh, hell.' Jason closed his eyes with apparent exhaustion. 'It doesn't matter. I can't be the father.' He stood up. 'You were right, Bruce. Let's hand this problem to the police. For all we know this baby's been abducted and the birth certificate is some sort of nasty practical joke.'
'It's no joke.' Mrs McKendry had simply been waiting for a gap in the rapid-fire conversation between the men. 'And you might as well stop your havering, Jason Halliday. This bairn is yours.'
'How can you say that?' Jason's astonishment at being betrayed by someone he trusted was directed at Mrs McKendry only briefly. Then it was transferred to Laura. 'You think it's mine, too, don't you?'
Laura nodded. 'It's as plain as the nose on your face, I'm afraid, Jase. Or should I say the eyes.'
'What about them?' Jason asked faintly.
'Come and have a look.'
They all came and had a look. They stared at baby Megan and then at Jason. And one by one they all nodded slowly.
'It doesn't matter if it was Sharon or Shelley or bloody Madonna,' Stick said sadly. 'Yep. This kid's yours, all right, Jase.'
Laura couldn't help it. 'The eyes have it,' she murmured.
Jason wasn't amused. 'Lots of people have eyes with rings around them.'
'No.' Laura was careful to keep her tone perfectly neutral. 'Your eyes are actually quite unusual, Jase. And Megan's are a carbon copy.'
Jason sank into the chair opposite Laura. 'What am I going to do?'
You had to feel sorry for him, Laura decided. For someone like Jason who played almost as hard as he worked and made no secret of intending to enjoy his bachelor status for as long as possible, this had to be his worst nightmare. He looked defeated right now. Lost. And Laura couldn't help offering a sympathetic smile. Jason's forlorn gaze locked onto hers as though encouraging her to say something that might make this whole mess go away.
But it was Mrs McKendry who spoke and she wasn't going to let Jason off any hook. 'You're going to take responsibility for your child, that's what you're going to do,' she said crisply. 'Laura, hand the baby over to its father.'
'No! I'll drop it.'
'Don't be such a gowk,' Mrs McKendry snapped. 'Laura?'
She felt like an executioner but Mrs Mack was right. This was Jason's baby. His problem. He was now in such a shocked state he simply accepted the bundle Laura placed carefully into his arms. Then he stared at the baby's face with an even more forlorn expression.
For several seconds, father and daughter exchanged stares of equal intensity. Then Megan Bates Halliday opened her tiny rosebud mouth and bellowed her disapproval.
'She doesn't like you much, does she?' Bruce observed unnecessarily.
'The feeling's probably mutual right now,' Stick said sympathetically.
'You lot...' Mrs McKendry peered over the top of her half-moon spectacles '...can all go home. You're no' helping and you need some sleep.'
'You're not wrong there.' Bruce rubbed his face and didn't bother hiding a yawn. 'I'm absolutely knackered.'
'Me, too,' Cliff sighed. 'Sorry, mate, but I'm going to have to head home and hit the sack.'
Megan's cries became louder and Tim stood up as well. 'You coming, Laura?'
'In a minute.' Laura couldn't abandon Jason. Not when he looked at her with that kind of mute appeal. He needed help.
Stick was clearly torn. He shared a house with Jason and another fireman, Mitch, from Red Watch. After an apologetic glance at Jason he turned to Mrs McKendry.
'I s'pose Jase is going to have to take this baby home with him if he has to look after it, isn't he?'
'I can't look after it. I don't know the first damn thing about babies.' Jason had to raise his voice over the increasing noise level. 'And we're not allowed pets, remember?'
'Your daughter's just been fed,' Mrs McKendry informed Jason. 'I expect she needs burping now.' Clicking her tongue at Jason's expression, she reached out. 'Like this!' She put the baby upright and rubbed her back. Megan obligingly belched loudly and sent a dribble of milk across the lacy collar of Mrs McKendry's blouse.
Stick stared in horrified fascination but Jason looked impressed. 'Hey, you know about babies, Mackie.'
'Well, I may no' have been blessed with any of my own but I've picked up the odd one or two in my time.'
'You could look after her.'
'No, Jason. This is your bairn.'
'I'll pay you.' Jason sounded desperate. He obviously didn't want to hold the baby again but he had no choice. It was simply pressed into his arms. 'I'll pay you anything you like!'
Mrs McKendry shook her head.
'But anyone can see she hates me.'
Stick took a step backwards as Megan started crying again. 'Look, mate. No offence but it's going to be hard to sleep with that noise in the house. I might stay on station.'
'I've got beds in my sleepout if you want one of those,' Cliff offered.
'Sounds like a plan.' Stick gave Jason an apologetic grin. 'Sorry, mate...but...well, you know.'
'Yeah...' Jason sounded despondent. Then he looked beseechingly at Laura. 'I guess you're going to desert me, too. You probably think I deserve this.'
Laura held his gaze. 'What I think, Jason Halliday, is that you're in need of a friend right now.'
He still hadn't looked away. His daughter stopped howling as though her father's tentative smile had been enough to distract her. 'You'll help me, Laura?'
He could see her. For the first time he could really see her. As a person rather than a profession. A valuable person. OK, so maybe that valuable person was a babysitter but beggars couldn't be choosers, could they?
'Yeah.' Laura smiled back. 'I'll help you, Jase.'
Jason was on his feet and somehow the baby was in her arms again, but Laura hardly registered the fact as Jason planted a kiss on her forehead.
'Laura Green, I love you.' His smile widened. 'Be back in a tick. I'm desperate to go to the loo.'
Jean McKendry gave Laura a steady glance. 'Och, hen, do you know what you're doing here?'
'I think I do.'
Laura was making herself indispensable, that was what she was doing. Jason was going to be very grateful but it wasn't his appreciation Laura sought. This was the first opportunity she'd ever had to spend time alone with him. Well...almost alone. If they had even a few hours together Jason might realise there was more to her than appearances suggested. And if that was too much to hope for, she would at least be able to give herself a lesson in distinguishing fantasy from reality and then move on with her life. It wasn't just the first opportunity. It was quite likely to be her only opportunity, and Laura had no intention of letting it slip through her fingers.
'Yes,' she said quietly. 'I'm sure I know what I'm doing.'
Disconcertingly, Laura had the impression that Mrs McKendry knew precisely what she had been thinking but if that was the case, she was being granted permission to carry on.
'If you run into real problems, call me,' the older woman said. 'And if the mother hasn't come back by the time you're both on duty again, I'll help during work hours.'
Green Watch had just completed two days and two nights on duty. It would be four days before the next day shift. Was there really a chance that Laura could have that much time alone with Jason and his daughter?
'Heavens, I'm sure the mother will be back long before then. Nobody could just leave their baby with a virtual stranger for that long.' Laura blinked at Mrs McKendry. 'Could they?' Her jaw dropped a fraction. 'You know something about this that you're not saying, don't you, Mrs Mack?'
'Let's just say that the bairn was no' on the doorstep for as long as I made out.'
'You saw her?' Laura breathed. 'You saw the mother leaving the box?'
'Not precisely.' Mrs McKendry lowered her voice. 'I saw a man leaving the box. Then he got back in the car and kissed a woman with long, blonde hair. Rather more thoroughly than the occasion called for, in my opinion. They drove off, laughing.' Her eyes narrowed in disgust. 'She didn't look back. No' even once.'
'Did you get the number of the car?'
'No.'
Laura found it unlikely that such a detail would have escaped those sharp grey eyes but the implications were not escaping either of them. If the mother had callously abandoned her almost newborn baby and gone off with her lover, laughing, then it was highly unlikely they would be back in a hurry.
If at all.
A mix of emotion washed over Laura. Excitement. Hope. And a good dose of nervousness. This was her chance and she'd better be very careful not to screw it up.
'Why didn't you say something before?'
'I think Jason will have more than enough to cope with, thinking he's looking after his bairn on a very temporary basis. What do you think he would do if he thought there was any chance it was intended to be a more permanent arrangement?'
He'd run screaming into the middle distance, that was what. He'd call the police or Social Welfare and do whatever it took to sidestep the responsibility. Informing the authorities was actually quite likely to be exactly what they should be doing at this point and Mrs Mack knew that as well as Laura did. So why was she doing this? To teach Jason Halliday a life lesson, perhaps? Or could she also see it as the opportunity Laura might otherwise never have had?
Jean McKendry smiled at her and Laura had her answer. She dropped her gaze to the baby in her arms, suddenly embarrassed that anyone could have guessed what she thought had been an increasingly well-guarded secret.
'Just remember, hen,' the housekeeper said softly. 'You're helping, no' taking over. You're no' this baby's mother, you know.' The pause seemed deliberate. 'You're no' Jason Halliday's mother either.'
'I'll remember,' Laura promised.
'If you turn yourself into a doormat you have only yourself to blame when people start wiping their feet all over you.'
Laura's swift glance was startled. Mrs McKendry was a fine one to talk about not mothering people. It was precisely the relationship this widow had with a great many men. Laura swallowed. Maybe that was why she did know what she was talking about. Had Mrs McKendry's marriage been as empty and unfulfilling as the relationship she herself would have had if she'd stayed with John?
The twinkle in Mrs McKendry's eyes seemed to be wishing her luck. 'Jason's got very big feet, hasn't he?'
Laura grinned. 'I'll make sure there's a very big doormat...outside the house.'
'You do that, hen.'
'What's Laura going to do?' Jason must have been splashing water on his face. Damp tendrils of blond-streaked curls clung to his forehead. Had he been hoping to wake himself up from a bad dream, perhaps?
'She's going to make a list of what you need to buy on the way home,' Mrs McKendry said brightly.
'A large bottle of gin?' But Jason's attempt at humour was half-hearted.
'Nappies,' he was informed sternly. 'And formula and some more clothes. And something for that bairn to sleep in.'
'Can't we just take the box home?'
Jason seemed to have aged ten years in the last hour but Laura could see through the faint edge of despair he was trying to cover with humour. He wasn't about to run away, no matter how unwelcome this situation was. In the face of total unwillingness and ignorance he was prepared to do what he had to do, and Laura loved him even more for the courage he was unwittingly displaying.
'Don't worry.' Laura stood up, holding a now sleeping infant. 'There's a baby's car seat in the ambulance storeroom. We'll borrow that for the day and Megan can sleep in it. There's enough formula and nappies to last until tomorrow and who knows?' Laura avoided looking at anyone but Jason. 'Maybe Shelley will be back by then.'
A ray of hope shone from Jason's smile. 'Shall...shall I hold it, then, while you go and find the seat thing?'
Laura bit back a wry smile as she handed Jason his daughter. 'She's not an "it", Jase. Her name is Megan.'
The bob of Jason's Adam's apple gave away his nervous swallow but, to his credit, he looked quite calm as he regarded the tiny peaceful face shrouded in blue polar fleece. He cleared his throat and spoke very softly.
'Hi, Megan...I'm Jase.' He cleared his throat again. 'Your...um...dad, I guess.'
Laura hurried towards the storeroom, swallowing rather hard herself to clear the unexpected prickle of tears. She had been right to think that something fundamental in her life had changed the moment Mrs McKendry had demanded an explanation for the unprecedented delivery to the station. The axis of her world had tilted so sharply she was in free-fall right now.
It was scary because there was absolutely no way of knowing what condition she might be in when she found her feet again. But it was also exhilarating because what really mattered was that she wasn't alone. Baby Megan and her father were both coming along for the ride, and Laura intended to make the most of every possible moment.
'OH, WHAT a sweetie. How old is she?'
'Four weeks.'
'Look at those eyes!' The sales assistant at Baby Warehouse glanced up and Laura could swear the eyelashes fluttered. 'Just like Daddy's.'
'Yeah.' Any flutter had been lost on Jason. With more than twenty-four hours' practice, that trapped expression and tone was becoming almost normal.
'So, how's it going?' The sales assistant smiled brightly at Jason and then glanced at Laura. Her tone oozed sympathy. 'Incredibly tiring business, being new parents, isn't it?'
Laura looked down at the small face peeping out from the blue polar fleece blanket. Of course, she looked enough of a wreck to induce sympathy. The short, snatched periods of sleep between the dauntingly unfamiliar and full-on occupation of caring for such a young baby would take it out of anybody. Add the stress of being with somebody who was struggling to contain the desire to bail out, a house that was a prime example of how horrible three males could make their living environment and absolutely no baby equipment to make the job any easier, and she was nearly ready to bail out herself.
It had been precisely that threat that had finally persuaded Jason to come to this large specialist retail establishment.
'Either we get some gear or you're on your own, Jason Halliday,' she had said wearily that morning. Astonishingly, she had experienced only a muted tingle at the sight of Jason wearing nothing but a pair of ancient pyjama pants held loosely on his hips by a frayed cord. His bare, well-tanned chest had only a smattering of hair, the tips of which had been sunbleached to a pale gold. The shaft of desire had put up only a weak struggle against burgeoning resentment.
'I am not going to bathe this baby in a kitchen sink with a dishcloth that looks like it needs a government health warning slapped on it,' Laura had continued. 'And where the hell did these dishes come from? We spent two hours last night getting this bench cleared.' She'd known she'd sounded like a harpy or a nagging wife but she hadn't cared. The enthusiasm to make herself totally indispensable and show Jason just what a wonderful personality she had was wearing off with alarming rapidity.
'Just look at that!' The plate in question held the remnants of a meal that must have been abandoned a very long time ago. 'It's got so much fur growing on it, it looks like road kill.'
Jason's grin was very lopsided. 'I found it under my bed,' he admitted. 'And I found the rest when I was clearing out Stick's room so you had somewhere to sleep.' He rubbed the back of his hand against an unshaven chin. 'It's OK. I'll clean it all up.'
'You sure will,' Laura agreed. It was really quite easy to dismiss the faint rasping sound the chin rub had produced. The curiosity about what it would feel like to touch it herself was also fleeting enough to ignore. 'And when you've finished, we're going to find a baby shop. We need more formula, nappies, a bed, a bath and some toys.'
'Toys? Whatever for? All it does is eat and sleep and yell. You don't need toys for any of that. She's probably got buckets of toys at home.' Jason peered anxiously at Laura. 'You can't leave me. I wouldn't last five minutes without you.'
'You might if you actually learned how to change a nappy and hold a bottle instead of insisting that I do it.'
'But you're so good at it. You're a born mother, Laura. Megan loves you already.'
'Rubbish.' But Laura couldn't help the tiny glow of satisfaction seeping through the cracks of her exhaustion. She might have considered the term 'a born mother' a slur on her attractiveness before this, but even twenty-four hours had been enough to demonstrate the kind of qualities a mother needed. Confidence, compassion, patience, selflessness and a bucket of stamina. From now on she would consider the phrase a huge compliment.
'Besides,' Jason said persuasively, 'it's not going to be for much longer. If Shelley hasn't turned up in another day or so, we'll do something about it. Track her down and find out what's going on.'
The reminder was enough. Another glance at Jason allowed desire a stronger foothold and this time it was mixed with something new. Sympathy. Not that she could afford to feel too sorry for Jason. An echo of Mrs McKendry's warning sounded. Laura wasn't going to be a doormat for anyone ever again. Not even Jason Halliday. If this opportunity was going to provide what she hoped, however, she needed it to last as long as possible, and in order for any of them to survive they needed the help that the proper gear could provide.
'I don't care if it is only for another day, Jase.' Laura managed to sound pleasingly resolute. 'We have to get supplies. You can always give them to Megan when she goes.'
Jason sighed. 'Yeah. I guess I'm going to be in for paying some kind of child support. I suppose I could look on this like a down payment.'
'That's the spirit,' Laura said dryly. 'Don't forget to keep the receipts.'
Jason's face brightened. 'There you go. I wouldn't have thought of that. Thank goodness I've got you around to look out for me.'
'Just do the dishes, Jase. I'll see if Megan's other suit is dry enough to wear yet.'
So, here they were. Standing in a shop that boasted aisles and aisles of brightly coloured baby supplies in an astonishing wealth of variety. Neither Jason nor Laura had known where to begin and their bemused scanning had made them an obvious target for a sales assistant. And who could blame the girl for assuming they were a family or even for pointing out how tired they looked?
She could blame the assistant for the fluttering eyelashes, though, Laura thought grimly. You couldn't assume you were talking to the proud parents of a new baby and then justify flirting with the father.
'So what is it you need today?'
'Everything,' Jason said glumly.
'Sorry?' The sales assistant blinked.
'We only just got her,' Jason explained. 'Yesterday.' He raised an eyebrow at Laura. 'It was only yesterday, wasn't it? Feels like for ever.'
She nodded, smiling. They had arrived at Jason's house about eight a.m. Stick had already decamped, taking enough of his possessions to last a day or two. Laura had ducked home briefly later in the morning when Megan had been asleep to collect a few of her own necessities and then they had spent the rest of the day and the whole of a long night focussed on caring for the tiny person they had taken responsibility for.
Jason hadn't left things entirely to Laura. He had learned to follow the instructions on the tin and mix up formula. He just backed off when it came to holding the bottle and the baby at the same time. Laura enjoyed the feeding more than anything, so she had to admit she hadn't pushed the point. She didn't enjoy the nappy changes much but Jason had a singular talent for being either justifiably asleep or mysteriously absent whenever that task became unavoidable. She had to give him credit for his attempt to help tidy, though. Venturing into Stick's room to sleep would have been a far more memorable experience if Jason hadn't ridden shotgun to change the sheets, collect dead laundry and kick some fairly questionable magazines further under the bed.
'So she's adopted?' The sales assistant was not about to be thrown off her stride. 'That's so special! What have you called her?'
'Her name's Megan.' Laura was amused by the glance she caught. Obviously it had to be her fault that she and her partner hadn't been able to conceive a child of their own. One look at Jason had been enough to convince the assistant that there was nothing likely to be inadequate about his potency, or any method of delivery. Another approving glance provoked confusion, however.
'But...how did you find a baby with eyes just like yours?'
'We didn't,' Jason said shortly. 'She found us. It's a long story.'
'Oh?' The girl looked eager but then flushed at Jason's hesitation. 'Sorry. It's none of my business, is it?'
'No,' Laura agreed blandly. 'Let's get on with this, shall we, Jase? I'd like to get home before Megan's due for her next feed.'
The sales assistant was losing interest. Her glance told Laura that she was a nagging wife even if she wasn't wearing a wedding ring. 'Let me know if I can help,' she said professionally. 'The cots, bassinets, prams and so forth are on the other side of the clothing section. Toys and accessories are over there. What would you like to look at first?'
'Clothes,' Laura said promptly.
'Toys,' Jason said at the same time.
Five minutes later, Laura found herself standing alone in front of a bewildering selection of clothing items. Jason was getting further away by the moment with a now animated salesgirl introducing him to the delights of baby toys. Laura saw his face split into a wide grin as a brightly coloured jester popped out of a velvety, soft-toy box. His laughter caused several heads to turn and prompted smiles from everyone. His companion's giggle was also audible and Laura tried very hard but completely failed to suppress a stab of resentment. Jealousy, even.
Did that assistant love the sound of Jason's laughter as much as she did? Did it start a delicious tingle that coalesced into something so much stronger as it knotted itself down low in her abdomen? Laura wanted to play as well. To elicit and share that laughter. So why was she holding onto an increasingly heavy baby who was starting to grizzle, trying to decide how few items of clothing it would be reasonable to purchase and whether to head for the bargain bins or the cute little outfits displayed on hangers or life-sized baby dolls like some boutique for midgets.
An older assistant appeared at her shoulder. 'They get heavy, don't they, dear? Even at this age.' Megan stopped crying for a moment and stared at the new face. 'Oh, what a poppet,' the woman cooed. 'She's just gorgeous!'
Laura smiled, feeling absurdly as though the compliment had been personal.
'Have you got a front pack? It's an ideal way to carry baby without effort and still feel nice and close.'
'No.' Laura's smile widened as a mental picture of Jason's broad chest adorned with a canvas pouch that had tiny limbs protruding from it presented itself. A faint wash of colour heated her cheeks as she realised her imagination had conjured up a bare chest above pyjama pants that looked ready to disintegrate. She cleared her throat. 'Sounds like a very good idea,' she said hurriedly. 'I need a few clothes first, though.'
'Look at these.' The woman pointed to a tiny stretchsuit, the yoke of which was adorned with hand-embroidered bumble bees. 'Isn't it darling? And it's got all the matching accessories. Hat, matinée jacket, bootees.'
Laura heard another deep rumble of laughter that could only have come from Jason as she blinked at the price tag. Megan chose that moment to start a renewed protest and Laura could no longer ignore the odour wafting from folds of blue polar fleece. It wasn't as if she was going to be paying for any of this, was it?
'I'll take the whole outfit,' she said briskly. 'Something in pink would be nice, too.'
'I don't believe this.' Jason put down his last load of purchases and shook his head slowly.
Up until yesterday this living room had been a place of refuge. Sure, the empty beer bottles tended to accumulate on the coffee-table and an unwashed plate or two might mean a less than straight passageway to the couch, but it had never bothered the men who lived there. There had been a lot of good times in this room, chilling out with some good conversation and a game of cards or winding up into a fervour of support as they watched a rugby match on television. Those good times were unimaginable right now. The living room looked as though it had become a suburban outlet for the Baby Warehouse.
'Look at all this stuff. We can't possibly need it all.'
'We certainly didn't need a whole trolley load of toys,' Laura agreed.
'And have you any idea how much it all cost?' Jason felt yet another echo of the shock wave the checkout girl's request had evoked, but at least the pain was starting to fade just a little. 'I had no idea babies could be so expensive. I've spent more on her clothes in one hour than I've spent on myself in the last year!'
Laura thought it might be advisable not to go into the cost of the clothing too closely. 'The bassinet was a good choice. I love the little farm animals on the ruffle.'
Jason made a low growling sound. 'She wanted me to buy a cot, would you believe? One with an adjustable mattress level that you keep putting down. Then it turns into a bed. I nearly told her we were only planning to keep the kid for a few days, not a few years.' His gaze roved over the supplies of nappies, bottles, feed and sterilising materials and the bedding, plastic bath and containers of lotion and wipes. The toys. The clothing. And yet more toys.
'I must have been mad,' he said sadly.
'Think of it as child support,' Laura said helpfully.
Jason scowled at the faintly acerbic tone. 'I'm paid up till she starts university in that case.' He watched as Laura continued her journey around the perimeter of the room, jiggling the baby, who hadn't stopped crying for more than thirty seconds at a time since they'd left the shop. The sound was really beginning to grate on raw nerve endings and Jason gritted his teeth.
No wonder Laura sounded less than sympathetic. She'd had the noise at close range while he'd spent the last half-hour unloading and arranging their purchases. She looked tired, too, and Jason experienced a moment of panic at the thought she might decide to throw in the towel and go home.
'Here...let me have a go at shutting her up.' The appreciative smile he received made the offer well worth while.
'Thanks.' Laura transferred Megan to his outstretched arms. 'I could use a break.'
'Put your feet up,' Jason said generously. 'Have a nap even.'
'What I really need is a nice long shower. My hair feels like old string.' The grimace that accompanied the tug on the ponytail made Jason look at Laura's hair consciously for the first time, and she was right. It looked like old string. Her glasses had smears on them and the baggy T-shirt she wore had a lot more than just smears. All in all, it wasn't an attractive package, but Jason couldn't have cared less what his new housemate looked like. He needed her. Big time.
No way could he face this alone and his best mates hadn't exactly lined up to assist, had they? Mitch had only stayed as long as it had taken to pack half his gear last night and Stick had dropped in with him to collect his CD player.
'It's a great sleepout,' he'd informed Jason unmercifully. 'Quiet as. And Cliff's quite happy to have us stay as long as we want. He's been thinking of renting it out anyway.'
Fifteen minutes later, Jason's appreciation of Laura's efforts was waning. Just how long did it take to have a shower and wash hair? He was in trouble here. Megan's face was bright red from the effort of yelling so loudly and nothing he did seemed to make any difference. He'd tried putting her in the brand-new bassinet but she hadn't been impressed.
'Have you any idea what this thing cost?' Jason queried. 'We paid extra for those cute little sheep and pigs. You're supposed to like them. Here...look at this.' He picked up the soft toy jack-in-the-box and squeezed the base. The maniacally happy-looking jester flew out at close range to Megan's face. Incredibly, her howling notched up several more decibels.
Jason threw a guilty glance over his shoulder, half expecting Laura to appear and berate him for his total inadequacy in entertaining a baby. No...he was hoping she'd appear. He wouldn't mind being berated if he got rescued at the same time. Awkwardly, he picked up the infant again, remembering to put his hand under its head for support. Good grief, it was so tiny. The little head fitted into the palm of his hand and felt no bigger than a grapefruit. And it was hot, he noticed. Hardly surprising, with all that energy being expended making noise. A waft of an odour he was unfortunately becoming all too familiar with caught Jason's nostrils and he rocked the baby in his arms and stared miserably at the door.
'Come on, Laura, for God's sake,' he muttered. 'I need you, dammit.'
Jason looked almost as miserable as Megan sounded, Laura decided when she entered the room a few minutes later. Feeling clean and refreshed after her shower, her stress levels had declined enough for the sight to be almost amusing.
'At least it's only Megan that's howling,' she said.
'That's not funny.' Jason scowled. 'You've no idea how close I am. There's something wrong with this kid. Unless it's just because it hates me.'
'Let's try changing her nappy,' Laura suggested. 'That might help.' Deftly twisting her damp hair into a ponytail and securing it with a scrunchy, she then spread a towel on the floor and reached for the packet of baby wipes. 'You know, those change tables looked great. Much easier on the back to do this standing up.'
Jason deposited his shrieking bundle onto the towel with surprising gentleness. 'Hardly something you could pack up and take back to England,' he reminded her. 'We had to draw the line somewhere.'
'The bassinet isn't exactly portable either.'
'Yeah...well, I did suggest using the cardboard box if you remember.'
'Oh, I remember.' Laura chuckled as she eased Megan's legs from the stretchsuit and pulled at the nappy's plastic tags. 'I'm sure that sales assistant won't forget in a hurry either.'
Jason went a noticeable shade paler as Laura opened the nappy. 'I'm sure you need a coffee,' he said hurriedly. 'And I'd better mix up another bottle, hadn't I?'
'Mmm.' At least he'd stayed within six feet while the nappy had come off. Laura found herself smiling as she held Megan's ankles with one hand and lifted her gently to start cleaning. It was a bit like taming a wild animal, really. A little closer each time and then...bingo! She'd have him changing a nappy all by himself. It was lucky she possessed a good degree of patience. Pushing the issue would only have him diving for cover. She was getting pretty good at accomplishing this task effectively now anyway.
'There you go,' she told the baby. 'A nice clean bottom.' She picked her up for a cuddle. 'Is that better, darling? No wonder you were unhappy. I'd be unhappy if I had smelly pants, too.'
Jason cleared his throat meaningfully behind her. 'Let's not go there,' he warned. 'I'd appreciate it if you kept your smelly pants all to yourself. Here's the bottle.'
'Great.' Laura was pleased to hear something like Jason's usual good humour reappearing. She moved to the couch to sit down. 'Is it the right temperature?'
'I think so.' Jason held the bottle and sprinkled a few drops of milk on the inside of his wrist. Then his teeth flashed as he grinned. 'I've seen them do that on the telly.'
'And?'
'And what?'
'Does it feel hot or cold?'
'I can't feel anything.' The grin was replaced with an anxious frown. 'What's it supposed to feel like?'
'Nothing.' Laura smiled reassuringly as she held out her hand. 'If it's body temperature, like it's supposed to be, it won't feel hot or cold.' She tested it again. 'Perfect,' she pronounced.
Jason beamed. 'Cool. I'll see if I can get the coffee perfect as well.'
But Laura didn't touch the coffee Jason brewed. Neither did he.
'Why won't she stop crying?'
'I don't know.' Frustrated, Laura put the bottle down. 'She won't feed properly either.' They couldn't find a cure for the miserable, hiccuping sobs interspersed with some ear-splitting howls, and the continued failure made the tension the noise was creating escalate rapidly. 'I think there might be something wrong.'
'I told you that.'
'I thought that changing and feeding her would help. They're the first things you're supposed to try.'
'They didn't work, though, did they?' Jason said accusingly.
'Obviously not,' Laura snapped. 'Thanks, Einstein.'
'What do we do now, then?'
'I don't know.'
'What? You must have some ideas.'
'Where are your ideas?' Laura shot back. 'This is your baby, Jason Halliday. It's your problem. Why am I supposed to be an expert? I've never had a baby and, what's more, I don't intend to have one until I'm with someone who's going to be of some help as a partner.'
'I didn't intend to have a baby!' Jason's voice rose to something very close to a shout and Megan raised her own volume to compete. 'Jeez, Laura. I don't need this. I don't even want a bloody baby.' He turned abruptly, as though intending to walk out. 'This is a nightmare!'
Laura saw him stop after only a couple of steps, his fists clenched tightly by his sides, and she sighed heavily.
'I could ring Mrs Mack,' she offered more quietly. 'She might have some ideas.'
Jason turned. 'But then all the guys at the station will know what it's like here. They'll know I'm incompetent and I can't even babysit my own kid for a couple of days. I'll never hear the end of it.'
His look was beseeching enough to prompt another sigh from Laura. 'Have you got a thermometer in the house?"
'No. Why?'
'She feels hot. She might be running a bit of a temperature.'
Jason closed the space between them swiftly. 'I thought that, too.' He crouched down to peer at Megan. 'She's sick, isn't she?'
'I'm not sure. It's not an obvious fever. She just feels a bit warmer than I would have expected.'
'But you're a medic. You know about this stuff.'
'Babies are tricky. Usually, by the time we get called, either the baby is obviously sick or the parents have noticed enough to be worried, so even if the baby looks fine we still transport it to hospital.'
'I'm a parent,' Jason said. 'And I'm worried. The kid's all red. It's crying all the time and it's hot.'
'It's not a colicky cry, so it's not likely to be tummy pain. She hasn't been sick, she's not coughing and she hasn't got a runny nose. Any baby is going to go red and get hot when it's crying this much.'
Laura laid her hand gently on Megan's fontanelle where it was easy to feel a pulse. She was watching the tiny chest at the same time but it was difficult to count respirations due to the hiccuping sobs. The crying was mercifully softer now. Just an ongoing sound of tired misery.
'Her breathing's fine,' Laura reported a minute later. 'Her heart rate is a little fast but that could also be because she's upset.' She shook her head. 'What bothers me is that this is the first time she hasn't accepted her bottle and calmed down. Did you mix the formula the same as last time?'
'Of course I did. This isn't my fault.'
'It's not my fault either.'
They glared at each other and Laura winced at a fresh wail from Megan. This was turning to custard. So much for that little fantasy about revealing her attractive personality to Jason.
'Let's take her to a doctor,' she suggested finally. 'At least that way we can get her temperature checked accurately.'
They spoke very little to each other during the time it took to find the local GP clinic in the phone book, make an appointment and get ready. They exchanged only the bare necessities of communication as they sat in a crowded waiting room full of sniffling toddlers and fragile-looking older people who stared accusingly at anyone making too much noise. They glared in Megan's direction on a consistent basis.
Conversation with the GP they finally saw was somewhat stilted due to the on-the-spot fabrication that Jason had agreed in advance to mind his daughter for a few days while his ex-partner had a holiday in New Zealand. It wasn't until they were home again nearly three hours later that the tension finally evaporated.
'I thought she was going to call the police and report a stolen child. I was getting sweaty palms, imagining myself being arrested.'
'It's just as well Megan is so unmistakably yours, thanks to those eyes.'
'It was really embarrassing not to be able to answer any of those questions. How would I know if the pregnancy and birth were normal?' Jason frowned. 'I should know. Shelley should have told me.'
'The doctor was great, giving her such a thorough checkup. She said she looks generally well cared for.'
'If she'd been well cared for she wouldn't have been left on a doorstep all night and she wouldn't have an ear infection now.'
Laura said nothing. If she told Jason that Megan had only been left outside for a matter of minutes rather than hours, she would also have to confess that the mother had been seen driving off in the company of a man and hadn't bothered with even a backward glance at her child. The implication that she wouldn't be in a hurry to collect her daughter in the next few days, and the prospect of a longer time with a miserable infant, would surely be enough to ensure Jason found a rapid escape route from this situation. And Laura didn't want that. It was too early to tell whether this could work out for any of them and she wasn't going to give up. Not yet.
'And why did the doctor say it was a shame she wasn't being breast-fed?'
'Breastfeeding gives a baby more protection against bugs. Some immunity gets passed on from the mother.'
'There you go, then,' Jason said triumphantly. 'If Shelley was a halfway decent mother she would have been breast-feeding. And she certainly wouldn't have just dumped her kid on a doorstep.'
'No.' Laura was quite happy to agree to that.
She looked down at the exhausted infant she was holding. The dose of paracetamol administered at the clinic had worked wonders and Megan was now too sleepy to finish her bottle. She had been dozing between short bursts of sucking but now felt like such a dead weight that Laura was sure she was sound asleep.
Hopefully, the GP was right and Megan would be in the fifty per cent of otitis media sufferers whose pain would settle in twenty-four hours without needing antibiotics. If it was any worse tomorrow they would have to take her back, otherwise her ears would be checked in a few days' time.
'Could you put her down in the bassinet, please, Jase?'
Jason hesitated. 'She'll wake up if I touch her. She'll start screaming again and my ears are only just starting to recover.'
'I don't think she will,' Laura said confidently. 'She's dead to the world. Come on, it's time you learned how to put your daughter to bed.'
Jason looked as rebellious as a small boy about to have a dirty face wiped but then he gave that lopsided smile that touched something deep within Laura's heart.
'OK, I'll give it a bash. But don't blame me if she wakes up. She hates me.'
Gingerly, Jason picked up the floppy baby and carried her to the bassinet.
'Put her on her side,' Laura advised. 'And then tuck the sheet over her firmly enough to make sure she doesn't roll onto her tummy.'
Jason was arranging the baby as though handling an unexploded bomb. 'Why can't she sleep on her tummy?' he asked. 'I do it all the time.'
Laura pushed back the image of Jason in those pyjama pants, sprawled prone on a mattress, with tousled blond hair and a stubble-roughened chin turned to one side. 'It's thought to be a major factor in protection against SIDS.'
'SIDS?'
'Sudden infant death syndrome. Used to be called cot death.'
Jason stared at the tiny face below him as he carefully tucked in the sheet. 'She's not going to die, is she?'
'Of course not.' The notion that Jason was starting to care about his child caused a wash of pleasure that was unfortunately short-lived.
'Wouldn't be a good look, would it? Handing it back to its mother if it had fallen off its perch.' Jason grinned at Laura. 'Be a bit hard to cover up my incompetence then, wouldn't it?'
'All new parents feel incompetent,' Laura said quietly. 'Babies don't come with personalised instruction manuals. We've had a sharper learning curve than most, what with her unexpected arrival and her being unwell, but we're doing OK.'
Jason simply nodded and Laura hugged the fact he hadn't questioned their partnership as unexpected parents for Megan. It wasn't a lot but it was enough to be going on with and the silence in the room seemed to herald a peacefulness that bordered on contentment. Almost.
'I am so hungry,' Laura had to confess. 'Did you notice we missed lunch?'
'Now that you mention it.' Jason looked at his watch and his eyes widened. 'We've almost missed dinner as well. I can't believe I've gone so long without food. I hadn't even been thinking about it.'
'You had other things to think about.'
'Yeah. Did you see all those old fogies giving us the death glare in that waiting room?'
Laura nodded, smiling.
'You would have thought it was us making the noise, not our kid.' Jason sounded affronted now.
Laura nodded her agreement and the glance they shared was one of understanding. The elderly patients had forgotten or never known what it was like to care for a new baby. Laura and Jason knew.
Our kid. Laura's smile widened and Jason smiled right back at her.
'I could kill for some of Mrs Mack's bacon and eggs right now.'
'Me, too.'
'And a beer.' Jason raised an eyebrow. 'I s'pose you'd rather have wine or something?'
'No. I like beer.'
'Really?' Jason gave Laura an assessing glance and then his smile widened. 'Cool. I've got some in the fridge.'
'Great.'
'There's some bacon and eggs there as well, I think. Unless Stick ate them when I wasn't looking. Did you know I can cook?'
'No. You seemed to know where all the take-away shops in the area were when you went out last night.'
Jason's chin lifted at the challenge. 'Stay right where you are,' he ordered. 'You're in for a treat, babe.'
It was a treat. Crispy bacon, perfectly cooked eggs and thick slices of soft buttered bread all washed down with icy-cold lager. Megan slept on...and on. They did the dishes, sterilised bottles, made up the night feeds and sorted all the new baby purchases into tidied positions. And still Megan slept.
'Do you think she's all right?' Jason peered into the bassinet. 'I can't tell if she's even breathing.'
'She's fine,' Laura told him. 'She's got a lot of sleep to catch up on.'
'She's not the only one.' Jason flopped onto the couch beside Laura and yawned hugely. 'Shall I put the bassinet in your room, then?'
Laura cleared her throat. 'I was thinking it could go in your room.'
They eyed each other warily.
'Maybe...' Jason sounded hopeful. 'We could leave it in here and take turns getting up?'
'Megan's not an "it", Jason.'
'I was talking about the bassinet.'
'Oh...OK.' Laura let that one pass. 'All right. Sounds fair to me. Who's going to get up first?'
'Um.' Jason seemed to have found something fascinating to look at on the ceiling. Laura tilted her head back as well.
'Whose baby is this, Jason Halliday?'
'She loves you.'
'She'll love you, too, if you give her half a chance. Feeding her will make a big difference.'
'I don't know how to feed her.'
'You just hold the bottle. She'll do the rest.'
Jason was silent.
'How 'bout we do the first night feed together?' Laura suggested generously. 'You can feed her and I'll change her nappy.'
'Sounds like a plan.'
'Then you can do the next one by yourself.'
'But...' Jason turned his head and caught Laura's expression at close range. 'Oh, all right. I'll give it a bash.'
'Good for you.'
Jason sighed heavily a moment later and Laura had to smile.
'You're finding this pretty rough, aren't you?'
'It's a nightmare,' Jason admitted.
'So you never wanted a family, then?'
'Of course I did. Do,' Jason corrected himself. 'I just planned on being in love with the mother of my kids. Planned on planning the kids for that matter.' He sighed again. 'Shelley Bates certainly wouldn't have been on the list of potential candidates.'
'You weren't in love with her, then?'
'I've never been in love.'
'Oh, come on!' Laura's eyes snapped open. 'You're permanently in love. It's just that the object of your affections gets updated at regular intervals.'
'Of course it does. That's because I've never found what I'm looking for. If I was really in love I wouldn't have to keep looking, would I?'
Laura's heart skipped a beat. 'What are you looking for, Jase?'
'I wish I knew.'
'Maybe you're using the wrong search engine.'
'Don't think so. I know what I like.'
'Which is?'
'Well, they have to be great-looking.'
Laura's snort summed up what she thought of that criterion.
'Hey, it's not just the looks I go for. I'm not that shallow. I always test out intelligence with an in-depth discussion on current world politics.'
Laura thought of the yellow bikini-clad bimbo. 'Really?'
'No.' Jason grinned and Laura shook her head even as she chuckled.
'There you go. You are shallow.'
'No, I'm not,' Jason protested. 'There's more to my girlfriends than the way they look.'
'Like what?'
'They have to be fun to be with,' Jason said seriously. 'Adventurous. And at least reasonably intelligent. Maybe that's why they never last,' he added sadly. 'Even the most promising ones get boring.'
'What's the longest relationship you've had, Jase?'
'Twelve months. How 'bout you?'
'I lived with someone for two years.'
'Didn't work out, then?'
'No.'
'Got boring, huh?'
'You could say that. John just wanted someone to cook and clean and devote themselves to making him happy.'
Jason grinned. 'Works for me.'
Laura aimed a punch at his upper arm. 'I was joking,' he protested, rubbing his arm.
'It's not funny,' Laura told him primly. 'And I'm never going to get trapped like that again. In my book, loving someone doesn't mean you get to control or take advantage of them.'
Jason sat up. 'Hey, I hope you don't think I'm taking advantage of you. You did offer to help look after Megan, you know.'
'I know,' Laura confirmed.
'Why did you?' Jason rested his head on the back of the couch again. 'All my other mates have done a very effective job of disappearing into the woodwork. I might just have a few words to them about that.'
'Maybe I'm just a nice person,' Laura said lightly. She yawned and closed her eyes. 'Right now, I'm a very tired person. I haven't had any sleep worth mentioning for rather a long time.'
Jason could sense the moment Laura fell asleep only minutes later. Very slowly, her head tipped sideways until it was resting on his shoulder. He turned his head, intending to suggest she wake up enough to go and lie down properly, but something stopped him.
Maybe it was the softness of her hair brushing his cheek or the fresh scent of some kind of flowery shampoo she had used. Or maybe it was just the good feeling it gave him that she trusted him enough to use his shoulder as a pillow. Or the fact that she had fallen asleep from exhaustion due to helping him with a task he'd have had no hope of managing on his own. He'd never done anything he could think of that might have inspired such a generous response on Laura's part.
She had been telling the truth even if it had been intended as a joke. Laura Green was a nice person.
A very nice person indeed.
'THREE-TEN Robbins Avenue. Three-one-zero.'
The elastic braces on Jason's over-trousers were still dangling as he reached for his coat and helmet.
'Smoke seen to be pouring from rear of house.' The calm voice of the dispatch officer managed to override the insistent blare of the alarm sounding through the loudspeaker system of Inglewood station. 'Multiple calls.'
Jason caught Stick's gaze and grinned at the anticipation in his colleague's face. Multiple calls to the emergency response control centre invariably meant that the job was genuine rather than a false alarm or prank call. He was feeling pretty excited himself. This was the first callout for Green Watch day shift and it had happened within minutes of arriving for work.
After four days of the nightmare his personal life had become, this felt like the clock was being wound back. This was his real life. He could forget about Megan and Laura and even the nebulous spectre of Shelley Bates and any upcoming confrontation.
Except that his Green Watch colleagues weren't about to allow him any respite no matter how urgent the callout. Jason was on the back bench seat of the passenger compartment, sitting beside Stick. Cliff was navigating in the front passenger seat and Bruce was driving. Thirteen tons of fire appliance was soon gathering speed, siren on and beacons flashing. Jason pulled his braces into place and managed to shove his arms into his coat sleeves despite the limited space available to manoeuvre.
'Put your safety belt on, Dad.'
'Give it a rest, Stick.' The ribbing had started well before the official shift change. Laura had taken it with good humour. In fact, Jason had the weird impression that she hadn't even minded being addressed as 'Mummy'. And Mrs McKendry might have pretended to be offended by Stick and Mitch deciding to call her 'Granny M.' but it had been quite obvious she couldn't wait to whisk the bassinet into a quiet corner of 'her' kitchen.
Jason clicked his lap belt into place just in time to prevent ending up on Stick's lap as Bruce negotiated a sharp corner.
'Unit 962---are you responding?'
'Affirmative.' Cliff looked up from his map to check that the appropriate button on the radio console had been activated. The response button was still flashing, which indicated the signal hadn't gone through, so he pushed it again.
'Person thought to be trapped. Back-up has been dispatched from Central Station. Ambos are also on their way.'
'Won't be our guys,' Bruce said. 'They got sent out to someone who was unconscious or something.'
Jason looked ahead over Bruce's shoulder as the air horn added considerably to the noise they were making. Drivers at the intersection they were entering hurriedly jammed on their brakes or pulled to the side of the road.
'Take the next right and head up to the top of the hill,' Cliff advised Bruce. 'Then take a left into Kowhai Drive.'
'I wonder who's trapped.' Stick said. 'Hope it's not another kid.'
Too many young lives had been lost in house fires around the country recently and it was an experience all fire officers dreaded having to deal with. Dwelling on the darker side of what the job entailed was never tolerated for long, however. Especially with this particular crew.
'We'll send Jase in to look after it, if it is.' Cliff turned to grin over his shoulder. 'He's the expert now.'
'Amazing that he's lasted four days.' Bruce had to shout to be heard as he leaned on the horn at another intersection. 'Have you learned how to change a nappy yet, mate?'
'He's bloody lucky he's got Laura there to help.'
'Yeah. Good old Laura. You wouldn't think it to look at her but she's a bit of a star, isn't she?'
'She probably wouldn't look half bad either if she lost a bit of weight.'
'She's not fat.' Jason was stung out of trying to ignore the conversation.
'She's not exactly skinny,' Stick declared.
Cliff was grinning again. 'I like a few curves,' he said. 'Makes them a bit more cuddly, doesn't it, Jase?'
'I wouldn't know.'
'Pull the other one! You've had a female alone in the house with you for four days and you haven't tried it on?'
'Of course not.' Jason was more than affronted this time. 'This is Laura we're talking about.'
The nods of the surrounding men signalled an end to that ridiculous line of discussion, and perversely Jason felt irritated at their ready agreement. He might not find her physically attractive himself but what was so wrong with Laura? She was a nice person. She deserved to be judged on something other than her appearance.
'Babies have that effect on any relationship anyway,' Cliff told his mates. 'I remember it only too well. In fact, things were never the same in that department after the first one came along. Liz was always "too tired".'
'I'm not having a relationship with Laura.' Jason felt obliged to spell it out. 'She's just helping me out, which is more than you lot have done.'
'We don't fancy you, mate.' The shout of laughter Stick's comment generated was loudly appreciative.
'Neither does Laura, so give it a rest, for God's sake. How close are we now, Cliff?'
Bruce had to slow the truck to take the turn into Kowhai Drive. Then he put his foot down for a long, straight stretch.
'Have you heard from the kid's mother yet?'
'Nah.' Jason shook his head. 'Not a peep.'
'Maybe she's done a runner.'
'She won't get far. I rang a buddy in the police department and he made a few enquiries off the record. I'll get notified if she's trying to leave the country.'
'Maybe she's left already.'
Jason shook his head again. 'We checked. She arrived in Auckland five days ago from London.'
'The kid actually looked quite happy when you arrived this morning, Jase.' Stick elbowed his colleague. 'Have you got it on drugs or something?'
Bruce shot a quick glance into the back seat. 'Maybe it knows Granny M. is going to be in charge of it today.'
Referring to a child as an 'it' was really quite annoying, Jason decided. But hadn't he been doing that himself until rather recently?
'Robbins Avenue is the next on the right,' Cliff informed Bruce.
'I can smell smoke,' Stick called.
He and Jason both unclipped their safety belts and slipped their arms through the straps that would hold the tanks of air on their backs.
'And thar she blows.' They could all see the billowing cloud of smoke as they turned the next corner.
Jason put his breathing apparatus mask over his face, adjusted the straps and then pulled his helmet forward and lowered the visor. By the time he and Stick dismounted from the step on the side of the fire truck they were ready to unroll a hose and move towards whatever area their officer, Cliff, deemed the most effective place to start containing this house fire.
A small crowd of people had gathered on the footpath, many still wearing nightwear and dressing-gowns. A distraught-looking woman holding a baby, with an older child clinging to her legs and crying with terror, was the focus of attention. A man with a garden hose could be seen making a futile effort to control flames licking through the top of a bay window towards the iron roof of the old weatherboard house.
As driver and pump operator, Bruce was responsible for setting up the water connection. A standpipe was fitted into the nearby hydrant with the key and bar beside it. Feeder hoses connected the standpipe to the pump appliance and Jason and Stick took the delivery hose from the truck towards the house. Cliff was directing the operation, sizing up the scene and safety considerations, issuing instructions and gathering any available information from the witnesses.
'One adult escaped and managed to get two kids out,' he informed Stick and Jason. 'There's a three-year-old somewhere in the house.'
Jason swore under his breath. 'Any idea where?'
'No. She disappeared when the mother was carrying the baby and dragging the older one out.'
Another fire appliance was pulling up now and an ambulance wasn't far behind, but Jason barely registered their arrival. He used his boot to kick open the front door of the house. He pulled the handle on the branch of the hose back to open the water flow enough to send a controlled spray, which he aimed towards the ceiling of the smoke-filled hallway.
The water vaporised instantly in the heat, and steam billowed downwards. Waiting only a second or two for the steam to dissipate, Jason and Stick walked into the house.
Another burst of water cooled the top layer of smoke and the firefighters threw themselves down to avoid the burning steam. Jason could feel the heat on his ears, which were the only unprotected areas of skin on his body.
A window exploded somewhere further away in the house and he could hear the faint shouts of another fire crew setting up a second high-pressure delivery system. The sound of his own rapid breathing inside his mask was louder.
Jason pushed himself to his feet and directed a new spray of water towards the ceiling. Cooling the top layer was intended to prevent the hot gas igniting and creating a dangerous flash over and transition from a localised fire to total involvement that could trap the firefighters. He wasn't going to slow their progress any more than was absolutely necessary, however. Somewhere in here was a child and if she hadn't already succumbed to the fire or smoke inhalation, he was going to find and rescue her.
One bedroom was virtually intact but there was no sign of a child through the drifts of smoke. Handing control of the hose nozzle to Stick, Jason wrenched open the wardrobe door and swept the beam from his high-powered torch under the bed. Nothing.
The smoke in the next bedroom was thick enough to kill anybody trying to breathe it, but the area below knee level was still relatively clear. The sight of scattered toys on the floor was an unnecessary reminder of how urgent this task was, and Jason clung onto the hope that the kid had crawled in any attempt to escape and would therefore have had a supply of oxygen for longer. He shook his head, giving Stick a thumbs-down signal before moving rapidly out of the second bedroom.
Another crew was now entering the house from the other side. Between bursts of water and avoiding injury from the steam, Jason veered away from the kitchen that was the most likely starting point of this fire as a charred beam snapped and sent a shower of debris into the area. A sitting room adjoined the kitchen, but that was closer to the back-up crew. Jason turned into another short hallway.
The bathroom was clear. So was another bedroom. That left only the laundry at the end of the hallway and there was no space for a child to hide there. A washing machine, a tumble dryer and a hamper full of dirty laundry filled all the available space. Jason turned again but then paused as he reoriented himself in the eerie darkness caused by the smoke and tried to clear extraneous messages bombarding his brain.
Logically, he should go and check the sitting room and kitchen with the new crew and then use them to help double-check the rest of the house, but as he shut his eyes for a second, Jason knew he wasn't going to do that. He had been in this kind of space often enough to have learned to trust his instinct. That gut feeling that he had missed something closer to hand had been strong enough to make him pause and he couldn't afford to ignore it.
Signalling to Stick, Jason turned back, passed the bathroom and third bedroom without a second glance and, after Stick had given the ceiling a good spray of water, stepped into the laundry again. He opened the door of the tumble dryer and smoke rushed in to dull the shine of the empty drum. He pulled up the lid of the wicker laundry basket again. This time he also pulled at the dirty linen it contained. Two towels, some baby stretchsuits and several bibs came flying out to land in the puddles of water accumulating on the floor.
He'd have to give Stick a hard time later about the amount of water he was using, Jason thought fleetingly. The aim of good firefighting was to use only as much as it took to make steam. That way, no water damage would be added to whatever could be saved from destruction by flames and smoke.
His gloved hand caught the corner of a sheet. It seemed to have become tangled with other linen. Jason pulled harder and then realised that no amount of dirty washing could weigh that much. He reached in more carefully, using his torch to illuminate the bottom of the large, square basket.
And there she was. A tiny child, curled into what looked like a foetal position, cushioned on more crumpled sheets and clothes. Jason hit the button on the alarm pack attached to his sleeve to summon urgent assistance. He dropped his torch and lifted the child into his arms. Fire officers responding to the loud beep of the alarm guided him through the quickest route out of the house, via the sitting room and a set of French doors leading to a verandah. An ambulance crew was waiting and Jason experienced a wave of relief at seeing the familiar faces of Tim and Laura.
'Put her down on the blanket, mate.' Tim couldn't recognise Jason under his full protective gear. Jason put the little girl down as gently as he could. Did Laura have any idea who had delivered their patient? Or any idea how horrific he was finding this? The mother of the child obviously did. Jason could see her near the first ambulance that had arrived on scene. The blanket covering her thin nightdress was coming adrift, her oxygen mask had been ripped clear and the two ambulance officers caring for her and the other two children were both fully occupied, trying to restrain the woman from rushing into the resuscitation area that Tim and Laura had set up.
Jason could understand her anguish. The thought that he might have just carried a dead child in his arms was unbearable. He pulled off his respirator, turned off his breathing apparatus and then stayed, rooted to the spot, his eyes glued on the paramedics as they set to work on the child. Please, he found himself trying to tell Laura telepathically. Do something. Save this kid.
'Respiratory arrest.' Tim had his head very close to the child's face and one hand was now resting on her neck. 'No pulse.'
Laura was ripping open the child's pyjama jacket. It was made of pale pink fabric and decorated with little yellow ducks, rather like the ones on Megan's blanket. Jason found he had to swallow a painful lump in his throat. This kid had a father. How would he be feeling if he were standing here right now? He focussed on Laura's actions. She clearly knew what she was doing, hooking up electrodes and pushing buttons on the life pack with deft, rapid movements. Jason sent another silent prayer in her direction. You can do it, Laura. Save her. Please.
A line appeared on the screen of the life pack. A wiggle that even Jason knew was a long way from normal, but Laura actually looked excited.
'She's in VF,' she told Tim.
'Really?' Tim sounded amazed. 'Great.' He inflated the small lungs again carefully with the bag mask. 'We might be in with a chance here, then.'
Jason caught the shred of hope and clung to it. A chance was good. A hell of a lot better than seeing the team shaking their heads sadly or packing up anyway.
'Does anyone know how old she is?' Laura was opening a side pocket on the life pack's case, pulling out some paddles with small, silver discs on them.
'She's three.' Jason didn't recognise the strange hoarseness of his own voice.
'Age times two plus eight,' Tim said.
'Yeah, but she's tiny,' Laura responded. 'I'd put her weight at more like ten kilos.' She turned a button on the life pack. 'I'll shock at twenty kilojoules initially.'
'OK.' Tim had inserted a plastic airway into the child's mouth. The bag mask unit was connected to an oxygen cylinder. He reached for another pack and unrolled it. 'I'll get ready to intubate.'
'We'll need IV access as well.' Laura slapped some orange pads onto the small chest. 'Everyone clear,' she advised as she positioned the paddles.
'Clear,' Tim responded.
The child didn't give a dramatic jerk the way Jason had witnessed in some cardiac arrest situations. In fact, it didn't look like those little paddles had done much at all. Maybe they should use bigger ones. There had to be some way of saving this kid. She was only three, for God's sake. Would Megan still be this tiny when she was three? The thought hit Jason like a brick and the desire to protect his own child from anything like this was unexpectedly fierce. It was followed swiftly by an equally unexpected urge to get back to Inglewood station as quickly as possible and check that Megan was OK.
'Still in VF,' Laura announced. 'Shocking again at twenty kilojoules.'
Jason shut his eyes. This wasn't working and he didn't want to see what was happening to the poor kid. He was going to make damned sure nothing like this ever happened to Megan.
'Stand clear,' Laura ordered.
'Clear,' Tim responded instantly.
Except he wasn't going to be in any position to protect Megan, was he? Any day now he'd be handing the kid back to its mother, coming to some hopefully amicable financial arrangements, and then the baby would be whisked out of his life and back to the other side of the world. Which was exactly what he wanted.
Wasn't it?
'We've got sinus rhythm.' Laura sounded calm but Jason could feel the excitement in the air crank up several notches. Sinus rhythm was good. In fact, it was normal, wasn't it?
'Still not breathing,' Tim said. He pressed the bag again gently and they all watched the tiny chest rise and fall.
'Still in sinus rhythm.' Laura seemed to be able to have one eye on the life-pack screen even as her hands were fully occupied ripping open packages and then inserting a needle into the child's arm. Jason had never seen her working in such a tense situation before. This was life-and-death stuff and Laura looked completely in control. She was calm and clearly very, very competent. Jason suddenly felt rather proud to know this woman. Laura Green wasn't just a very nice person. She was also very clever.
'Spontaneous breath.' Tim looked up at Laura and Jason could see the triumph in his glance. It was clouded by something still grim, however. 'How long did that take?'
'It's less than a minute since we got a pulse,' Laura responded. 'But we don't know how long she was in arrest for.'
'Can't have been long if she was still in VF,' Tim said. 'We might be lucky.'
'We'll soon find out.' Laura nodded. 'Respiratory rate is up to about sixteen now. Get the pulse oximeter on, Tim, and let's see what her saturation levels are. We should get the mother over here, too, and fill her in with what's happening.'
Activity around the paramedic crew had continued. Jason checked his watch, astonished to find that only minutes had passed. It seemed longer. The house fire was now well under control. There were no visible flames and the thick smell of smoke in the air was dissipating already. He could see fire officers inside, damping down hot spots, but others were beginning to clean up. Hoses were being rolled away and water connections closed off. Jason knew he should move off and start helping with the clean-up but he stayed where he was. Hell, a life had been saved here, and he was part of the team. He had to know what the outcome was. Just like the kid's mother did.
'Vicky! Oh, my God...is she going to be all right?'
'She's breathing on her own,' Laura told the mother. 'And her heart's beating normally again.' She put a comforting hand on the arm of the woman, who looked no older than herself. 'What we don't know at this stage is how long she was low on oxygen for. She's still a very sick little girl.'
'Oh, no...' Vicky's mother sagged against the other ambulance officer as she sobbed. 'She's still going to die, isn't she?'
'No---she's not.' Jason could see a look of alarm on Laura's face as he made the confident statement but he had just seen something that filled him with elation. 'Look!'
They all looked down. A small arm was moving, then the head. And the child was making a sound. A cough? A cry? Tim pulled the airway protection device from the child's mouth just as the eyes opened. And then the miracle happened. The tiny girl looked at all the faces looming over her and saw her mother. Two small arms, one trailing an IV line, were held up with mute appeal.
'She recognises Mum.' Tim had a broad grin on his face.
'Can I pick her up? Please?'
'Of course.' Laura crouched again to adjust wires and help lift the child. 'You can hold her in the ambulance and we'll take you into hospital together.'
'She's going to be all right, though, isn't she?' Tears were streaming down the young mother's face as she gathered the child into her arms. 'Not...brain damaged or anything?'
Laura seemed to be hesitating as she grabbed the IV line to prevent it tangling as Vicky wrapped her arms around her mother's neck.
'Mum-meee...'
They all heard the child's faint but unmistakable cry. Laura's smile wobbled around the edges.
'I think she's going to be fine,' she said. 'But we still need to get her into hospital straight away.'
'Wait!' The mother turned as she was being ushered up the steps into the back of the ambulance. 'Who was it who found her? Where was she?'
Jason stepped forward.
'She was in the laundry basket,' he told her. 'Underneath the washing.'
Vicky's mother was laughing and crying at the same time. 'That's one of her favourite places for hide and seek,' she said brokenly, 'but I would never have thought of looking there.'
'It might have saved her,' Jason said. 'All the clothes would have protected her from the smoke.'
'You saved her. I...I don't know how to thank you.'
'These guys did a lot more than I did,' Jason waved his arm towards the ambulance crew, appalled to feel that painful lump back in this throat. This time it was made worse by an ominous prickling sensation in the corners of his eyes. 'You go with them now,' he added gruffly. 'I've got work I should be doing.'
Any assistance with the clean-up operations had to wait another minute or two, however. Jason watched both ambulances leaving the scene as he pulled himself back together. This was ridiculous. OK, they had saved the kid's life and that was a thrill, but he'd seen young victims of house fires before. Some of those had been lucky as well, but he'd never experienced such an emotional response to any job as he had this morning.
It wasn't until he was back on station and everything was tidy enough to let the crew take time out for a well-deserved break that Jason started to feel settled again. And that was crazy. Who would have thought it would help, having a baby shoved into his arms, along with a bottle of milk and instructions to feed his daughter before he fed himself any of Mrs M.'s delicious double-chocolate muffins, still warm from the oven.
But help it did. She was warm and heavy and felt...alive. Stick's eyebrows shot up as Jason tucked the baby into the crook of his arm and started feeding her without any drama. Jason tried to sound nonchalant.
'It's not as tough as it looks. You just hold the bottle and she does the rest.'
Stick watched the baby's vigorous sucking, the big eyes that were fastened intently on her father's face and the miniature hand that looked as though it was trying to help hold the bottle.
'She's actually kinda cute, isn't she?'
'You won't say that when her nappy needs changing, believe me. You should have seen what I had to deal with last night.'
Stick's grimace was sympathetic. 'Gross, huh?'
'Worse than gross, mate. It looked like---'
'Do you mind?' Bruce was reaching for a second muffin. 'We're trying to eat here.'
'Save some for me, ' Jason warned. He looked down at Megan. 'Hurry up,' he urged. 'It's my turn.'
'Bet you say that to all the girls.' Stick grinned.
Jason had to join in the burst of laughter. Yes, he felt much better. He could still have a good time with his mates even if he was holding a baby and a bottle.
And couldn't even reach the chocolate muffins.
THE surprise was enough to stop her in her tracks.
Fortunately, Laura recovered swiftly enough to prevent Tim bowling her over as he followed her into the commonroom. It wasn't the first time she had seen Jason feeding his daughter after all. They had sorted that one out the night after the visit to the doctor. It was just the first time she'd seen him looking as though he was enjoying the duty. He was actually laughing.
'What's the joke?' Laura reached for the cup of coffee Mrs McKendry miraculously had ready for her and smiled her thanks.
'Don't ask,' Bruce advised.
'How's Vicky doing?' Jason's query was casual but Laura could see how important her answer was when she caught his gaze.
'She's going to be fine.' It was Tim who answered, sitting down at the table and reaching for a muffin. 'She's one lucky kid.'
Laura eyed the muffins but decided against having one. 'She sure is. I didn't think we had a chance to start with.' She turned to Tim. 'As soon as you said there was no pulse, I thought that was it.'
'I couldn't believe it when you found she was in VF.' Tim was grinning around the edges of his muffin. 'Great job, huh?'
Laura found Jason was still staring as he listened intently. 'When a child has a cardiac arrest, it usually follows a respiratory arrest,' she explained. 'And by then the damage from no oxygen is irreversible.'
Tim was nodding. 'Last case like that I had, we managed to resuscitate this toddler after he'd choked on a button or something. We got him back but they had to turn the life support off two days later.'
'Normally, they go straight into asystole instead of VF as well,' Laura said. 'So you can't just shock them back into a normal rhythm. That's why we got excited when we saw what we were dealing with.'
'What's VF?' Stick queried.
'Ventricular fibrillation,' Laura explained. 'The ventricles are the more important chambers of the heart. In a normal rhythm they're contracting strongly and pumping the blood out to the rest of the body. Fibrillating means that there's a very uncoordinated movement in the heart muscle and it's ineffective for pumping.'
'Whatever.' Stick wasn't interested in improving his anatomical knowledge.
'How come you got there so fast?' Bruce asked. 'I thought you got sent out to some unconscious person.'
'He was asleep.' Tim grinned. 'And rather drunk.'
'That was lucky,' Stick told them. 'You guys were awesome at the fire from what we heard. Jase hasn't stopped talking about it.'
'It was just the first time I've hung around to watch.' Jason's ears had gone pink enough for Laura to realise he was embarrassed. 'It was pretty impressive.' He was avoiding Laura's gaze and she dropped her own to her coffee-mug. Heavens, had he been impressed by her?
'It was more than that,' Bruce said. 'You should have seen him, Laura. He was standing there, all misty-eyed, watching you drive the kid off to the hospital.'
'I was not,' Jason protested. Then he gazed down at Megan and adjusted the tilt of the bottle he was holding. 'OK,' he admitted. His ears were an even brighter shade of pink now. 'It did get to me. Dunno why.'
'It's because it was a kid,' Bruce suggested.
'I've rescued kids before.'
'It's because you're a dad now,' Cliff stated. 'It changes things.'
'Nah. Why should it?'
'It's true.' Laura nodded at Cliff. 'I've seen the way friends change once they've had a baby. It changes your whole perspective.'
'Sure does. You get a connection to other people that makes you more...human, I guess. Or less selfish or something.'
'Less selfish is good.' Jason was glaring at Bruce. 'I hope you're not really intending to eat that last muffin. You've had two already.'
'What about the rest of the family?' Cliff asked Laura. 'Were they all OK?'
'They all needed treatment for smoke inhalation and they're keeping Vicky in for observation, but I imagine they'll all be able to be discharged tomorrow.'
'Did they say anything about what might have caused the fire?' Bruce looked at the last muffin, looked at Jason and then sighed in defeat. 'I didn't get a chance to interview the mother.'
'Apparently the older boy was trying to make breakfast. The toaster jammed and the curtains caught fire. His mother had taken the baby back to bed to feed him and she'd fallen asleep again. It was the neighbour who raised the alarm and woke her up.'
'Where was the father?'
'Who knows?' Tim responded. 'He walked out when the last baby was born ten months ago.'
'Bastard.'
There was a tiny silence after Jason's expletive. Then Bruce raised an eyebrow. 'So you wouldn't walk out on your kid, then, Jase?'
'No, I bloody wouldn't.'
'So are you going to go back to England with this Shelley, then?' Stick sounded worried.
'No. Of course not.'
'Maybe she'll want to stay here,' Stick suggested morosely. 'Maybe she'll want to marry her kid's father.'
'Would you do that, Jase?' Cliff gave his younger colleague a speculative glance.
'Hey, I'm not going to marry someone I don't love. I'm not that stupid. But I'm not going to desert my kid either.'
Laura wasn't the only one to sense the internal conflict but she was quite sure she was more bothered than anyone else in the room. What if Mrs McKendry's impressions had been wrong and this Shelley was intending to come back? Whatever intentions Megan's mother had, she had laid a very solid base by leaving the baby in Jason's care. It had been a clever move. Jason was a very decent bloke. He was starting to care about Megan, whether he realised it or not. His daughter could prove to be a very powerful bargaining tool if this Shelley Bates was planning to manipulate him into doing more than babysitting.
'Maybe you should go for custody, then,' Bruce advised.
Laura bit her lip. If Jason did that, he would need someone to help---full time. An even wilder thought occurred. If Jason married her, he would be safe from whatever manipulative plans Megan's mother might have. She shook her head imperceptibly to chase the thought back to where it belonged, which was precisely nowhere. As if!
'Yeah.' Cliff was backing Bruce up. 'She's already proved herself to be an unfit mother by dumping the kid on a doorstep. You'd be in with a good chance of winning, mate.'
Jason was looking positively alarmed. 'I didn't say I wanted to keep it,' he said hurriedly. 'Her,' he amended just as hastily.
They all heard the disapproving sniff that came from the kitchen.
'I'll pay maintenance,' Jason said defensively. 'And send her birthday presents and stuff. If she is living overseas, she can come and visit me for holidays when she's a bit older.'
'Like in ten years' time?' Stick offered.
Jason's wide grin was relieved. 'Works for me, mate.'
The sniff was at much closer range this time. 'Has that bairn finished her bottle?'
Jason held it up. 'Every drop, Mackie. See?'
'Time you changed her nappy, then.'
Jason caught Laura's eye at the same instant her pager sounded. She grinned. 'Sorry, buddy. You're on your own this time.'
Tempted to grab that last muffin on her way out the door, Laura was pleased when she managed to dismiss the urge. Whether it was the lack of sleep or the stress of caring for a baby that was doing it, her clothes felt slightly looser than they had four days ago. It wasn't a huge difference but she rather liked the sensation of comfort it gave her.
The call was a priority one response to a 'shortness of breath' case.
'What do you reckon?' Tim queried as they cleared the garage. 'Asthma, pneumonia or heart failure?'
Laura flicked the switch to start the beacons flashing. Her finger was poised over the control for the siren but the road was quiet enough for it not to be necessary yet. 'Could be an acute myocardial infarction,' she offered. 'That can make you a bit short of breath.'
'So can smoke inhalation.' Tim pulled the map from the pocket between the gear shift and the dashboard. 'We were lucky with that kid this morning, weren't we?'
'I'll say.' Laura smiled. A job like that always reminded her how much she loved this career. It more than made up for all the time and effort spent on less than genuine cases.
Like the one they were dispatched to as their final call for the day. The 'traumatic injury' turned out to be back pain that the grossly overweight, middle-aged woman had been suffering from for ten years.
'Has it got any worse suddenly today?' Laura asked.
'No. And it hasn't got any better either.'
'Who called for the ambulance?' A thin, tired-looking man had opened the door to them and Laura was assuming he was their patient's husband.
'I did,' the woman said belligerently. 'What am I supposed to have done? The doctor's bloody useless. I rang him and he said to take some pills. I'm a bloody walking pharmacy as it is. I rattle when I walk. I'm fed up to the back teeth with taking bloody pills.'
'What medications are you on?' Laura was beginning to understand why the man was so quiet and weary. She'd only been in the room for two minutes and she was more than ready to escape. Tim was having trouble getting the Velcro on the extra-large size of blood-pressure cuff to meet around her upper arm. He was also carefully avoiding Laura's eye and she suspected he was having difficulty keeping a straight face.
'Ow!' The oversized arm was moved enough to displace the disc of Tim's stethoscope. 'That hurts.'
'It'll only be tight for a few seconds,' Tim responded patiently. 'Try and keep still.'
Laura caught the gaze of the man. 'Has your wife got a list of her medications anywhere?'
'She's not my wife, she's my mother.'
'Sorry.' Maybe living with the woman had aged him rapidly. Laura was feeling older by the minute. If the squeeze of a blood-pressure cuff was enough to elicit such an agonised response, the back pain was probably no more than a mild ache. Her impression that they were wasting their time strengthened as she read the list of medications.
'So you're taking pills for your high blood pressure, high cholesterol, diabetes, airways disease, depression, weight control, constipation and pain---is that right?'
'Isn't that enough?'
Laura stepped over an overflowing dinner plate that was being used as an ashtray. 'When was the last time you were in hospital, Mrs Pearce?'
'Two weeks ago.'
'And what was that for?'
'Stomach pain. Something terrible it was. I was in bloody agony.'
'What did they say at the hospital?'
'They gave me six enemas. Six! If they knew what they were doing it should have only taken one. They're all useless, the whole lot of them, and I told them so.'
'Did they say anything else?'
Mrs Pearce's son sighed heavily. 'They told Mum to stop smoking, lose some weight and start getting some exercise.'
'And I told them, if they could do what they're supposed to be doing and fix me up then I might be able to start doing some bloody exercise. What do they expect? Some sort of miracle? I have enough trouble getting out of my chair and they seem to think I can go trotting around the block at the drop of a bloody hat.'
Tim had finished taking basic vital signs and filling in the paperwork. 'There's no real need for you to go to the hospital right now, Mrs Pearce. You'll end up waiting for hours and then being sent home, probably with exactly the same advice you were given last time. Is that what you want?'
'I want to get fixed up. I'm not going to get anywhere if I just sit at home and put up with it, am I?' She glared at Tim. 'It's the squeaky door that gets the bloody oil.'
'Fine.' Laura wanted to get this job over with. 'But you'll need to walk out to the ambulance for us, Mrs Pearce.'
'I can't move. My back's too sore.'
Laura caught Tim's eye. Their patient weighed at least a hundred and forty kilograms. They would be lucky to fit Mrs Pearce onto a stretcher with both sides down, and a scoop stretcher would probably buckle under the strain.
'We'll need to get some help to move you, in that case,' Tim said tactfully. 'That might take a while.'
'Are you saying I'm fat?'
Yes! Laura wanted to shout. You are grossly overweight and we're not going to wreck our backs when you're probably perfectly capable of walking. You're wasting our time and we're not going to be popular when we hand you over to emergency department staff who have far better things to do than spend time on someone who has no intention of taking responsibility for their own health. Instead, she smiled, albeit somewhat grimly.
'You have a choice here, Mrs Pearce. You can stay home and ask your GP to make a house call, you can let us help you walk out to the ambulance or you can wait for us to get assistance to move you.'
'Oh, get lost,' Mrs Pearce snapped. 'I'm not having a bunch of firemen tramping around my house and sniggering because you're not capable of doing your job and carrying me. You're just as bloody useless as anyone else, aren't you?'
'At least she signed the paperwork.'
'Mmm.' Laura was negotiating the rush-hour traffic through the central city. 'Thank goodness we didn't have to transport her.'
'She'll probably call another ambulance in the middle of the night.'
'Won't be our problem.' Laura grinned. 'If she keeps it up she'll go on the blacklist.'
'Doesn't mean we don't have to respond, though.'
'No.' Even people who abused the emergency services to the point that everyone knew them to be time-wasters had to be seen. They couldn't afford to let a genuine incident go unattended. Laura let her breath out in a long sigh. 'It's been quite a day, hasn't it? I'll be glad to get home.'
'You're going home?' Tim sounded surprised. 'Have you decided to let Jase fend for himself, then?'
'No.' Laura felt the heat in her cheeks. 'I meant home to Jason's place.' It hadn't even occurred to her it wasn't 'home'. How could it feel like that when she'd only been in residence for four days?
'Don't let him get too dependent on you, Laura.'
'I won't. This is only temporary. And there's no way he'd manage on his own.'
'Exactly. Don't let him use you.'
'I'm enjoying it,' Laura said sincerely. 'Megan's gorgeous.'
'What about Jason?' Tim seemed to be choosing his words carefully.
'He's gorgeous, too,' Laura said lightly. Then she caught Tim's glance and laughed. 'I was joking, Tim.' Good grief, had somebody other than Mrs McKendry guessed her motivation?
Happily, Tim joined her laughter and her confession was dismissed. 'I meant, is he enjoying it? He was pretty horrified at the prospect of trying out fatherhood.'
'I'm not sure about enjoying it exactly,' Laura admitted. 'But he's getting used to it. He can change a nappy all by himself now and feed her.' She thought about the laughter that had been provoked by teaching Jason how to bathe his daughter last night and smiled. 'Actually, I suspect he is starting to enjoy it---he just doesn't want to.'
'Why not?'
'It's a complication in his life that he wasn't expecting.'
'Has he said anything about the mother?'
'She was a one-night stand.' Laura pulled away as the traffic light changed to green. 'He had trouble remembering her name. What is there to say?'
'I'll bet his girlfriend has had plenty to say about it all.'
'Maxine?' Laura tried to sound offhand. 'She's rung a few times but I'm not sure if Jase has told her why he's so busy.'
'He's not the only one who's too busy. You'll wear yourself out, Laura, if this goes on much longer.'
'The next couple of days will be easier, with Mrs Mack helping.'
'You've still got to take her home after work. It must be like having two full-time jobs.'
It was. Both Laura and Jason were tired at the end of the day shift. It would have been wonderful to sit down and have a beer or two and chill out. Jason was keen to talk about the job they had shared that morning and recapture the thrill of rescuing little Vicky. But little Megan needed feeding and changing and bathing.
Laura did the nappy change by herself. She gave Jason a dirty look when he returned. 'You arranged the timing of that phone call to perfection, didn't you?'
'Not my fault.' Jason smiled winningly. 'Tell you what, I'll do the next two nappy changes.' He tried an effective head tilt and beseeching eyebrow lift. 'Three nappy changes?"
Laura tried not to laugh. 'What do you want, Jase?'
'Well, now you mention it, I kind of told Maxine I might be able to meet her for a quick drink later this evening.'
'But we've got an appointment to take Megan to the GP and have her ears checked.'
'Oh, no! I completely forgot about that.' Jason chewed the inside of his cheek. 'Does she really need to go? She's obviously better, so she doesn't need antibiotics.'
Laura just looked at him. Maybe Megan wasn't in need of a trip to the doctor but, dammit, she wasn't going to babysit while Jason went off to spend time with his girlfriend. She wasn't that much of a masochist.
'Oh, damn,' Jason muttered. 'Maxine thinks I'm trying to dump her.'
'Why?'
'Because I keep avoiding her and saying I'm busy.'
'You mean you still haven't told her why you're busy?'
'Hell, no. Maxine hates babies. One of the first things she said to me was that I'd better make sure I didn't get her pregnant.'
'Really?' Laura's tone was distinctly waspish. 'Sounds like a wonderful beginning to a meaningful relationship.'
'We don't have a meaningful relationship. We have...'
'Sex?' The word was bitten out and Jason gave her a strange look. Laura tried to lighten up. 'For heaven's sake, Jase. If it's that important to you, I'll take Megan to the doctor by myself. You go out and have sex with Maxine.'
She received an even stranger look. 'We were only planning on a drink, actually.' He turned away. 'Forget it. I'll ring her back and say I can't make it. We'll both take Megan to the doctor.'
'Maybe you should take her and I'll go out with my boyfriend.'
Jason turned back with an astonished expression. 'But you haven't got a boyfriend.'
The easy assumption was galling. 'What makes you so damned sure about that, Jason Halliday?'
He had the grace to look ashamed of himself. 'It's just---I mean...Have you got a boyfriend?'
'No, actually. Not at the moment.'
'Well, that's all right, then.' Jason blinked in consternation at the stare he was still receiving and ran his fingers through his hair. 'Isn't it?'
'I suppose it is. In fact, I'm beginning to think that all women might be better off on their own.'
'I didn't mean that.' Jason eyed the door as though planning a hasty exit. 'I meant, it would be all right if you came to the doctor's with me and Megan.'
'Seeing as you've so kindly pointed out that I've got nothing better to do, I may as well.' Laura's tone was wry. 'But don't push it, Jase. I'm not going to look after your daughter while you go out and have a good time with some bimbo.'
The atmosphere was still strained by the time they had returned with a clean bill of health for Megan and a take-away dinner for themselves, which obviated any need to cook. Laura took a shower but found Jason still curiously quiet when she returned in time to give Megan a bedtime bottle at ten p.m.
'Let's hope she sleeps as well as she did last night. It was a bit of a treat only having to get up once, wasn't it?'
'Mmm.' Jason was watching Laura settle herself on the couch with Megan in her arms. She knew her hair was hanging in damp waves like rats' tails and the soft old T-shirt she intended sleeping in clung to her figure quite well enough to reveal how ample her curves were, but did he have to stare at her quite like that? Maybe she'd been less than pleasant about him wanting to go out on a date but she wasn't trying to pass herself off as some kind of saint here. There was no point in getting Jason interested in her by pretending to be something she wasn't. She wasn't that desperate.
'Something bothering you, Jase?' Maybe it was time to make a joke out of it all. 'Other than missing out on sex with Maxine, that is?'
Jason scowled. 'Cut it out, Laura. I didn't think you were the bitchy type.'
Laura hung her head, watching Megan suck. Maybe it hadn't come out as lightly as she'd intended because it cut a little too close to the bone. She wasn't the bitchy type, and she'd better start being more careful or Jason would realise why she might be the jealous type. She heard Jason sigh and looked up swiftly. 'You're right, I was being bitchy. Sorry. I guess I'm a bit tired...and...'
'And?'
'And I have trouble understanding why you find Maxine so attractive.' If Jason needed a prime example of a bitchy type, he didn't have to look far. Laura had only met Maxine once, when she'd come to meet Jason after work at the station. The frankly dismissive glance she'd received had been enough to know that appearances were all that mattered to Jason's latest conquest.
'She's got great legs.'
'Ah.' Laura managed a smile. 'That makes it all right, then.'
The look they shared acknowledged that Maxine wasn't likely to make the grade long term. They both laughed but Laura's amusement was forced. She was tired and she could feel a headache coming on. Adjusting her position to hold the bottle with the hand of the arm holding Megan, Laura removed her glasses with her other hand and gave the bridge of her nose a good rub. She left the glasses on the coffee-table to give her face a rest. Then she kept her gaze on the baby she held as she felt her mouth relax into a soft smile.
Megan was turned a little into her body and one hand was on her breast with its fingers splayed like a tiny starfish. It was pushing and squeezing rhythmically, as though she was being breast-fed and helping the supply along. Laura was astonished at the response it provoked in both her body and heart. She was staring down a bottomless well of emotion from which any amount of love for this infant could be drawn.
And that was disturbing. It hadn't been part of the plan at all. She might end up being more upset by having to hand Megan back to her mother than finding out Jason would never be remotely attracted to her.
The thought prompted a gaze in Jason's direction and Laura caught her breath. He had been watching Megan's hand on her breast as well and his gaze flicked up to catch hers almost guiltily. He stood up, mumbling something about making coffee, but his gaze didn't leave hers until he turned away and that had been quite long enough for Laura to see what she had thought impossible.
Had it simply been wishful thinking?
No. Her own body was on fire right now. She wanted Jason more than she had ever wanted anyone but the flashes of desire she was used to experiencing had been nothing like this. There was a totally new dimension to it now. Only one thing could have caused such an increase in intensity and that was the unmistakable glimpse of sexual awareness she had caught in Jason's gaze.
It wasn't desire exactly, but the knowledge that Jason had woken up to the fact she was a woman was enough.
For now.
INGLEWOOD station had acquired a new mascot.
By the end of her second day shift, Megan Bates Halliday had earned the nickname of 'Peanut', due to her small size, and had at least half a dozen macho specimens of manhood quite besotted with her. Not that they advertised the fact, of course.
'I'll have a hold, if you have something else you want to do, Jase.'
'Hey, thanks, Cliff. I'm due to do a check on the breathing apparatus filters and valves. Shouldn't take too long.'
'We'll be all right. Take as long as you like.' Cliff adjusted his hold on the baby. 'What do you reckon, Peanut? Shall we see what's on the sports channel?'
When Jason came back, having completed the maintenance duty, he found Megan being held by Stick.
'Wasn't my idea,' Stick said loftily.
'Was so,' Cliff contradicted. 'I suggested a game of snooker to Bruce and you said, "Guess I'll have to have a turn with Peanut, then.'"
'You could have left her with Mrs Mack.' Jason noticed that, although Stick was now looking somewhat sheepish, he wasn't in any hurry to offload his burden.
'She's busy washing the floors.'
'Is Laura still out on the road, then?'
'Yeah. They're having a really busy day. I don't think they've even been back for a lunch-break.'
Snooker balls clicked and Cliff whistled appreciatively. 'Nice shot, Bruce.'
'Six points,' Stick informed Megan. 'Let's put them on the board, shall we?' Megan did appear to be watching as Stick moved the marker to a new score and the cooing noise could easily be read as approval. Stick grinned. 'She's catching on,' he told Jason. 'Pretty smart, isn't she?'
'I like a girl who likes watching snooker.' Cliff was lining up his next shot. 'I reckon she should be the station mascot.'
Stick's nod was enthusiastic. 'I'll bet Mrs Mack could make her a junior-sized uniform. That'd be cute.'
Jason could just imagine Megan as a toddler with a custom-made fireman's jacket and helmet. He could even see her holding his hand as she tottered along beside the life-sized version. Hell, it would be cute. He shoved the image aside and held out his arms.
'She's due for a feed,' he said. 'I'm surprised she's not yelling her head off by now.'
'She likes us,' Cliff announced.
'Don't get too attached,' Jason warned. 'I'm not keeping her.'
'Might not be that bad, you know.' Stick's gaze slid away from Jason's raised eyebrows. 'Well, she is kinda cute. For a baby, that is.'
Absurdly, Jason felt proud of the fact that Megan was his daughter as he carried her away from the games room-cum-gymnasium towards the kitchen. She could certainly turn on the charm at times. His colleagues had no idea what she was like when she wasn't happy, though. They wouldn't be anything like as smitten if they had to endure an hour or two of grizzling ill humour.
As he had to that night. There was no pleasure in having a beer while he cooked dinner listening to that incessant squalling. She quietened down so that Laura could eat in peace, he noticed, but he felt obliged to keep walking round and round the living room in the hope of getting her off to sleep.
'Did you end up getting any lunch?' he asked Laura.
'No. This is great, though. What is it?'
'Goulash.'
'Is it?' Laura took another mouthful. 'I can't taste any paprika.'
'What's paprika?'
'The red stuff that looks like pepper and goes into goulash.'
'Nah.' Jason skirted the couch and began another circuit. 'Goulash is just what you make when you chop up all the leftovers, throw in some veg and cook it.'
'Whatever. It tastes fantastic.'
Jason eyed his own plate, cooling on the bench, and sighed. 'So what kept you so busy?'
'We kicked off with a hypoglycaemic coma, had a heart attack around nine a.m., a kid fell off a climbing frame at play centre for morning tea and then we got stuck with an MVA and entrapment out on the motorway.'
'Who went out to that?' Jason watched carefully to see if he could detect any disappointment on Laura's part that he hadn't arrived. Surely, if she did fancy him, as his mates had suggested, he could pick up a few clues here and there.
'A crew from Central station.' Laura didn't seem at all disappointed.
'They could have called us,' Jason grumbled. 'We spent half the morning putting in smoke alarms for old-age pensioners, had a false alarm at a factory warehouse and then nothing for the rest of the day. It was dead boring.'
'Our afternoon was a bit dull. Nonstop calls but none of them were very exciting. Sore backs, sore hearts, sore legs. You name it, we saw it.'
'How long did the extrication for the MVA take?'
'Two hours.'
'What? We could have done it in less than half the time.'
'So could they, but he wasn't badly injured. We just didn't want to do anything that might exacerbate his neck injury so we put on a neck brace and gave him oxygen and basically kept him amused while the fire boys cut up the car all around him.'
'Still shouldn't have taken two hours. What was it, an armoured truck?'
Laura laughed. 'No, it was a Mini and he was a very large man. We ended up taking off the roof and lifting him out with a crane.'
'That would have been embarrassing. Especially on the motorway.'
'Quite a few people stopped to have a look,' Laura said. 'Maybe the embarrassment will motivate him to lose a bit of weight.' She picked up another forkful of her meal and looked at it thoughtfully. 'I'm a great one to talk, aren't I? And here I am, stuffing myself.'
'You're not fat,' Jason assured her.
'I'm not exactly skinny either.'
'Women who are naturally skinny are few and far between. The ones who are obsessed with being unnaturally skinny usually have a hell of a lot of other hang-ups as well. Believe me,' Jason said firmly. 'I'm speaking from experience here.'
'So why do you always pick skinny girlfriends, then?'
'Dunno.' Jason tried to sound offhand. 'Maybe I'll go for curvy next time.'
Megan's fractious cry distracted him from trying to assess whether Laura had responded to that fishing expedition. The quiet period was definitely over.
'Maybe she's got another ear infection.'
'I think she's just overtired,' Laura said. 'Maybe she should have been sleeping on station today, instead of being used for some pass-the-parcel game. Has it turned into some sort of competition to see who can spend the most time playing with the baby or something?'
'If you ask me, we're lucky that the guys are happy to have her around at all.'
'It's a night shift tomorrow. They won't be so happy if their sleep gets interrupted.' Laura stopped eating, her fork poised. 'What will we do if we're both called out at the same time?'
'Mackie's offered to sleep on station for two nights.' Jason sighed heavily as Megan paused only long enough to take in a deep enough breath to raise her volume. 'I've had about enough of this,' he muttered. 'It's been a week, Peanut. Where the hell is your mother?'
'Here, I'll take her.' Laura dropped her fork and her chair scraped as she pushed it back hurriedly. 'That was really nice, thanks. You'd better have yours before it's too cold.'
It was already too cold. Jason grimaced around his mouthful and eyed the microwave as he chewed, but he was too hungry to be bothered reheating his meal and the second mouthful didn't taste so bad.
Megan grizzled on intermittently. Laura looked fed up but Jason stubbornly took his time to eat. Perversely, he welcomed the increase in tension because it made him forget any disturbing thoughts that Laura might be helping him because she wanted more than friendship from him. It also effectively blotted out any of the brief fantasies he'd been experiencing about still having the kid around when she was old enough to hold his hand and walk beside him. Or go off to school with a cute little backpack. Or smile when her front baby teeth had been purchased by the tooth fairy.
He didn't offer to relieve Laura when he'd finished eating either. She couldn't complain about him clearing the bench, could she? He knew he was pushing his luck when he popped the tab on a can of beer and turned the television set on, but what was the worst thing that could happen here? Laura would go home, he'd be left with a baby he couldn't possibly manage on his own and he'd have to stop procrastinating and do something about finding Shelley Bates.
The scenario was unlikely, in any case. Laura seemed quite happy to do more than her share most of the time, and why not? She was female, wasn't she? Didn't they all get a bit clucky by the time they were pushing thirty? He was doing her a favour, really, by showing what that genetic programming could land you with.
Within a few minutes, however, it became apparent that a surprising hiccup could be occurring in Laura Green's genetic programming.
'What do you think you're doing, Jase?'
'Sorry. Did you want a beer?'
'No.'
'Come and watch this programme, then. This forensic pathologist is great at solving murder mysteries.'
'There'll be a murder around here soon and it won't be at all mysterious.'
Jason grinned. 'I know how you feel. She's a bit of a pain when she won't go to sleep, isn't she?'
'Right.' Laura's lips compressed into a grim line. 'That's it. I've had enough.'
Megan landed on Jason's lap with enough speed to provoke an outraged wail. While a reprimand was undeniably justified, Jason was alarmed to see Laura heading for the back door of the house.
'Where are you going?"
'Out.'
'When will you be back?' Jason was sorry he'd taken her assistance for granted now. Really sorry. The faint note of panic in his tone was quite genuine and he could feel himself go a shade paler when the only response he received from Laura was the slamming of the back door.
He'd done it now. He was up the creek without a paddle and he knew quite well he deserved it. Laura had turned her life upside down for the last week in order to help him and she'd done it with remarkably good humour and competence. She'd had a much busier day than he'd had today and yet he'd been enough of a bastard to expect her to keep going. Jason groaned. If he'd wanted to find a way of ensuring Laura didn't want him for a friend, let alone anything more, he'd found it without any effort at all.
He'd just have to make up for it somehow. Find something nice to do that would let Laura know how much he appreciated her. But what? Jason's idea of looking after a woman generally involved some quality physical contact, and that wasn't an option with Laura.
Or was it?
Unbidden, the image of seeing Laura feeding Megan last night surfaced. The full, soft-looking outline of her breast had been made startlingly obvious by the movements of that tiny hand. Jason had never seen Laura without her spectacles on before either, and when she'd looked up at him he had been struck by eyes that had reminded him of melted chocolate. Recognising that Laura was actually a rather attractive woman had been a shock. Like that time his kid sister had brought her first boyfriend home.
But him and Laura? No way. She was so far removed from what he considered to be his type it was inconceivable. Not that she wouldn't make someone a fantastic wife and mother, but it was precisely those qualities that put her into a friendship rather than relationship category. She was fun to have around. They could have a laugh, the way they did at work. Laura was one of the boys. Hell, she even liked beer! And when life wasn't so much fun Laura was prepared to help and he knew by now that he could trust her not to jump ship when the going got tough.
At least, he had up until he'd pushed her to breaking point. He didn't deserve a mate like Laura and he wouldn't have her around much longer unless he found some way to apologise. Trying to come up with an idea was enough of a challenge to distract Jason throughout an entire nappy change so that it was no more than a vaguely unpleasant duty.
'I've got it!' he told Megan as he pushed her feet into the leg holes of a clean stretchsuit. 'Mummy's tired. And what do women like to do most when they're tired?'
He needed three goes on some of those pesky, undersized stud buttons. 'I've seen the ads,' he explained. 'They like a soak in a hot bath, with candles and nice smelly stuff and a glass of wine.'
The plan was excellent. Brilliant, even if he did say so himself, but it was a little harder to execute than he'd anticipated. The triumph of finding a single, well-used decorative candle in the depths of a kitchen cupboard was dimmed by the unavailability of any perfume or bubble bath.
'A bit of dishwashing liquid would make some bubbles, wouldn't it?' He conferred with the baby he was carrying on one arm. 'But what smells nice?'
Another one-handed fossick in the cupboards began, and Megan started to feel heavy. Jason briefly considered trying out that front pack contraption Laura had persuaded him to purchase on that expensive visit to Baby Warehouse but he dismissed the thought. There was something disturbingly permanent about attaching a baby to your body like that. Holding her tucked casually into the crook of one arm was a kind of insurance policy. She could be put down or passed on to someone else with no effort required at all. The way she was handed around at the station was becoming part of the routine. One of the guys was always hovering somewhere nearby, waiting for a turn and pretending not to be. Wouldn't work at all if they had to deal with buckles and straps, and it would look ridiculous. Who wanted to look like a kangaroo with a pouch in dire need of mending?
At least this search was satisfyingly brief.
'There you go,' he told his daughter. 'Perseverance pays off, kid. Cinnamon. And vanilla. They both smell nice.' He eyed the tin of formula on the kitchen bench but Megan seemed happy enough for the moment to be ferried back and forth by a man on a mission.
'Dammit,' Jason exclaimed a short time later. 'We've got a wineglass but no wine. Do you think juice might do instead?' Changing arms to ease the ache of tired muscles, Jason's eye caught the tin of formula again. 'I'd better feed you in a minute, Peanut, hadn't I?' Big, blue eyes stared up at him. 'Laura won't enjoy her soak if she has to listen to you whingeing because I haven't fed you.'
Megan wasn't whingeing right now. She appeared to be listening intently to the deep, soft voice that had become much more familiar over the last hour. Her gaze was still fastened on Jason's and he braced himself as her face crinkled and her lips moved. But no cry emerged from that rosebud mouth. The facial contortion continued and suddenly, totally unexpectedly, Jason found that the tiny person he was holding was smiling at him.
It was Megan's first smile and it was for him.
She liked him.
A warm glow started somewhere deep within Jason and then grew and grew until it felt like something was about to burst. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt in his life.
Dammit! Why wasn't Laura here to see this? Megan was smiling. The corners of her lips curled up even more and her lips parted to make her look as though she was silently and joyously laughing. Jason felt so ridiculously pleased and proud that he didn't give a damn that his eyes were prickling. He wanted to cry. Or laugh. Or shout out the news. Instead, he did something that seemed far more appropriate.
He smiled back.
Laura walked swiftly, pushing herself despite the physical weariness that made her bones feel like lead. Her spiritual weariness was far more of a concern. This was never going to work. OK, she'd established a friendship with Jason. She'd seen evidence that he could find her attractive. She might even succeed in winning herself a place in his life, but where would that leave her? Precisely where she would have ended up with John, that's where. Making all the effort and putting up with all the crap because she wanted the relationship to work so much more than he did.
Jason might only be having a beer and watching television because he felt like it now, but it would only be a matter of time before he was off to the pub with his mates or having an affair, like John, because that took his fancy, and if Laura wanted to keep him around she'd just have to deal with it.
Escaping the empty shell that her relationship with John had become had led to a vow that she would never again become involved with anyone who didn't love her as much as she loved them. Yet here she was, trying to set herself up with an even more heartbreaking arrangement. Jason wouldn't just expect his dinner on the table or a bit of company on the odd night he chose to stay at home. He'd want his child raised as well. A child who was rapidly claiming a large portion of the love Laura was only too ready to bestow.
Why can't love be more equally distributed? Laura directed the silent question to the postbox at the end of Crighton Terrace as she finally neared the end of her long walk. She picked up her pace a little until she got past the empty and semi-derelict two-storied house on the corner. All that Laura wanted was to receive the same kind of love she was so capable of giving. Was that too much to ask?
Too much to ask of Jason Halliday, she decided bitterly as she opened the back door of his house. His idea of love was probably giving a girl a good time in bed. He didn't have a committed bone in his body when it came to women, and he probably didn't need to. With his looks and personality he wouldn't face any problem finding someone prepared to do the running to make things work when he finally decided to settle down.
But it wouldn't be her. No way. She wouldn't marry Jason if he---
Her passage into the living room was abruptly halted by what she saw in front of her. Jason lay flat on his back on the couch. One arm and one leg were draped over the side and an almost empty baby's bottle rested on the floor close to the dangling hand. He was deeply asleep, his lips slightly parted, his hair tousled and his features softened enough to make him look years younger. Vulnerable, almost.
Megan lay sprawled on top of her father, stomach to stomach, and she was also soundly asleep. There was no danger of her rolling off, though. Jason's arm was almost completely encircling the infant and he had his thumb safely anchored in a belt loop of his jeans.
Laura sighed softly, overwhelmed by the wave of pure love the scene evoked in her. Any good intentions she had to extricate herself from giving more than she could ever hope to receive flew out the window. There was no way she could walk away from either of them. Not when she felt like this. Whatever happened, she was going to see this through as far as it went.
Quietly, Laura moved further into the room, planning to bypass the couch and head for the bathroom for a much-needed shower. But Jason's eyelids flickered open.
'Hey...you came back!'
'Yeah.' Laura spoke as softly as he had. 'I'm a masochist.'
'Guess what?'
'What?'
'Megan smiled at me.'
'Really?' Laura saw the delight in Jason's sleepy grin and that wash of emotion she had experienced on entering the room returned with renewed strength. 'That's so cool! I wish I'd seen it.'
'You should have been here,' Jason admonished. Then he seemed to wake up enough to remember why she hadn't been there, and his expression held a mixture of apology and relief. 'At least you're back now.'
'Mmm.' Laura didn't want to spoil the moment by discussing her walkout. 'I need a shower. Are you OK with Megan for a bit longer?'
'Take as long as you like.' Jason closed his eyes and smiled. 'Enjoy,' he added rather smugly.
Laura had taken the tone to be self-congratulatory because he was minding the baby, but she changed her mind as she stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
The bath was full, almost to the brim, and sparse blobs of bubbles like small clouds floated amongst faint tendrils of steam. It smelt vaguely like some sort of pudding her mother used to make and her awareness of the scent was heightened by the dim, flickering light emanating from the depths of a hollow, orange candle. Beside the candle was something that was her final undoing. A stemmed wineglass, filled with what looked suspiciously like beer.
It was no reason to cry. This was a present---an opportunity to relax and indulge herself---and here she was, standing on the tiled floor with tears streaming down her face. Laura scrubbed the tears away with her hand and managed a wobbly smile as she pulled off her clothes. Jason had done this for her, and he must have used virtually the whole time she'd been out to do it because it looked like he'd cleaned the bathroom before creating her treat. He must have been thinking about her the whole time, possibly coping simultaneously with a grizzly baby, and he had harnessed clearly limited resources to produce something that was purely for her benefit.
John would never have done something like this for her, not in a million years. Jason cared. He really cared, and that was far more meaningful than any sexual awareness she might be able to stir in him. Laura climbed into the tub and lay back, resting her head on the rim and allowing a few more tears to wash away the despair she had carried with her on her solitary walk. She had been wrong. It could work out between her and Jason. And even if it didn't, she would never forget this bath for as long as she lived.
The call to an unconscious woman on the next night duty became the first strong reminder when Laura and Tim were led by a panicked husband into the bathroom of the patient's house.
'It's my wife, Irene,' he was explaining as he rushed ahead of them down a narrow hallway. 'She was just having a soak in the bath and then I heard this almighty crash and came in to find her lying on the floor with blood everywhere. I thought she was dead!'
Irene Spelling wasn't dead but she wasn't feeling at all well. She was also highly embarrassed by the ineffective covering a towel was affording.
'Do you know what happened?' Laura asked.
'I came over all funny when I stood up. Next thing I know I'm lying on the floor and my head hurts.'
A superficial scalp wound caused by grazing her head on the corner of the vanity unit had produced copious amounts of blood, but the facecloth Irene was pressing to the area had it under control for the moment. Laura was more concerned by potential causes for the faint.
'How are you feeling now, Irene?'
'Like I'm going to be sick. And there's a funny ringing noise in my ears.'
'Let's lie you down,' Laura directed. 'And lift your legs a bit.' Irene's husband assisted by sitting on the toilet seat and holding her feet on his lap. 'Can you get a blood pressure, please, Tim?'
Tim was fitting an oxygen mask on Irene's face. He reached for the blood-pressure cuff as Laura started peeling the backs off the electrodes needed to get more information about what was happening in Irene's cardiovascular system.
The bath had been a hot one---Laura could feel the steamy heat surrounding them. Just as well it didn't smell like a pudding, Laura thought fleetingly, or she might have trouble concentrating on what she was supposed to be doing.
The heat of the water and surrounding air could have caused a level of vasodilation enough to interfere with the normal mechanisms that adjusted blood pressure to posture. The reduction in blood supply to the heart had a knock-on effect of reducing supply to the brain, and was a common enough cause for fainting, but Laura needed to rule out any more serious cause such an underlying cardiac condition or reaction to medications.
'Your ECG looks fine,' she reassured Irene and her husband a minute later. 'You don't have any heart problems that you know of, do you?'
'No.'
'Anything else you're being treated for?'
'No. Well...' Irene looked embarrassed again. 'I'm taking some of that new stuff that's supposed to help you lose weight.'
'BP's 100 over 50,' Tim reported.
'That's a bit on the low side,' Laura explained. 'But it's only to be expected if you've had a fainting episode. Do you know what your blood pressure normally is?'
'I think it's a bit high. My doctor told me it was another reason I needed to lose weight. I am trying. I've hardly eaten anything today, have I, Colin?'
'No,' her husband confirmed. 'Just rabbit food.'
'That might have been a contributing factor to the faint,' Laura said. 'We'll check your blood sugar and then I'll have a look at where you hit your head.' Irene had 'come over all funny' well before she'd come into contact with the vanity unit and she appeared quite alert now so a head injury was unlikely to have been responsible for the period of unconsciousness, but Laura intended to make a thorough check.
Fifteen minutes later, both she and Tim were satisfied that Irene was fine.
'I'm feeling ever so much better,' she informed them.
'BP's up to 130 over 90,' Tim reported.
'Blood sugar's normal.' Laura dropped the small finger-pricking device into the sharps container. 'And everything else checks out. There's really no need for us to take you into hospital, Irene, but if you or Colin need any more reassurance then we're happy to do so.'
'No, I'm fine,' Irene insisted. 'All I want to do is get dressed and have some supper.'
'Good idea.' Tim smiled. 'We're about due for some supper ourselves.'
'Would you like a cup of tea before you go?' Irene pushed her arms into the dressing-gown Laura was holding for her. 'I've got a lovely banana cake that my daughter brought round this afternoon.'
'That's very kind of you but we'll have to get back on station,' Laura said with a smile.
Tim caught Laura's eye as she coiled the lead wires and slotted them back into a pocket of the life pack. 'With a bit of luck there might even be a muffin left for us.'
'Oh, take the cake with you,' Irene exclaimed. 'I shouldn't be eating it anyway and Colin hates banana cake.'
'No, you deserve a treat after this,' Laura said. 'You enjoy it.'
'But I'll only eat one piece and the rest will be wasted. I'd really like you to take it.'
'Please, do,' Colin added. 'By way of thanks. We're very grateful for your help. I was scared stiff. I had no idea of what to do other than call for an ambulance.'
'We're happy to help. We shouldn't accept cake.'
'Wow---cake! You shouldn't have!'
Jason, Stick, Cliff and Bruce eyed the offering that Laura carried into the commonroom.
'Hey---you've already eaten some.'
They had left a segment with Irene by way of a compromise. The rest of the banana cake was clearly going to be appreciated immediately by everyone on Green Watch at Inglewood station. Or it would have been, if not for the arrival of an unexpected visitor.
'Maxine!' Jason put down the plate he was holding and stepped out of the cake queue. 'What are you doing here?'
'Came to see you, of course.' The willowy redhead sounded less than happy. 'I want to know why you're avoiding me, Jason Halliday.'
'I'm not.' Jason's smile was one of his most winning and Laura's heart fell. He'd smooth over the troubled waters and she could just see herself babysitting Megan while he went out to make things up with Maxine.
'Here.' Stick could see the banana cake disappearing with alarming rapidity. 'You take Peanut.' He shoved the bundle he held into Jason's arms. 'She's your kid after all.'
Laura could swear that Stick flashed her the ghost of a wink. He must have known what effect his action and words would have. Laura gained a rather savage sense of satisfaction from the expression on Maxine's face, but Stick didn't seem to have finished stirring troubled waters. He grinned as Megan produced noisy evidence of the biological functions occurring in her small body.
'Hey, Jase. She's inherited your talent for burping and farting at the same time.'
The rest of Green Watch found Stick's observation hilarious.
'There goes the court case,' Bruce commiserated. 'That's even more of a genetic link than the colour of her eyes, mate.'
Jason looked as though he was desperately hoping the ground would open beneath his feet. Megan was looking a lot happier than she had a moment ago and was beaming approval at her father.
'Um...Jason?'
'Yeah?' Jason's smile looked glued on now but he was still bravely standing his ground.
'Do you want to tell me what's going on?'
The rest of Green Watch now seemed totally absorbed in their supper. 'Great cake,' Bruce announced. 'Isn't it, Stick?'
'The best.' Stick nodded. He glanced sideways at Jason and then caught Cliff's eye and winked.
'Jason?'
Stick wasn't being quite as successful as the others in hiding his interest in the building confrontation but Laura projected what she hoped was a calm indifference.
'I think I'll have some cake, too,' Laura murmured. 'It does look nice.'
'You need it,' Stick told her a little too loudly. 'You're fading away, Laura. Being a mum is taking it out of you.'
'I wish.' Laura grinned. She could appreciate the efforts of these guys as they closed a protective rank around her and tried to let her know that they considered her to be just as good as the gorgeous redhead now taking centre stage in the commonroom. But Stick did have a point. Her clothes were definitely feeling a lot looser than they had a week or two ago. Her pleasure in someone else noticing was heightened by the glare she could feel coming from Maxine.
'So, you've been "busy", have you, Jason?' Maxine used long, French-manicured nails to make the quotation marks in the air. 'I'd say you were pretty busy nine months ago or so as well.' She narrowed her eyes at Laura. 'With her?'
'No, of course not,' Jason assured her. Then he blinked. What was so 'of course' about it, anyway?
Lightning-fast thoughts flashed through his brain. Yes, Laura wore glasses but now that he had noticed the colour of her eyes they seemed more like frames that accentuated rather than hid them. Yes, she was short and Jason had always avoided short women because they made him feel like a father figure, but Laura was anything but childish. She could be bossy but she was never bad-tempered without a jolly good reason and, what's more, she was bloody good at her job. Yes, she was nothing like as skinny as Maxine, but he'd actually been serious when he'd told Laura he might try some curves next time. And on top of everything else, he simply liked Laura. Right now, it seemed that she had more going for her than Maxine did.
'Laura's a friend,' he explained. 'A very good friend. And she's living with me right now to help look after Megan.'
'Megan?'
'My daughter.' There was an unmistakable note of pride in Jason's voice and his colleagues exchanged meaningful glances over their slices of cake. 'Here, would you like to hold her?'
'Not in this lifetime,' Maxine said sweetly. 'Why didn't you tell me you had a baby, Jason?'
'But I didn't have a baby,' Jason said. 'Not until last week.'
'I've spoken to you since last week.' Maxine looked confused but then licked her lips and shook her tumble of tresses into place. 'You still could have told me.'
'I thought I would have got rid of it by now.'
'Oh.' Maxine looked a little happier. 'You're not keeping it, then?'
'No. Its mother's coming back. Her mother,' Jason amended. He didn't like the way talking to Maxine was sucking him back in time. Had he really thought her such an amazing conquest? She hadn't even looked at Megan, let alone said how cute she was. How self-centred could someone get? 'At least, we think she is.'
'You don't know?'
'No.' Jason was suddenly rather pleased to be holding Megan in his arms. 'It's possible she's never coming back,' he found himself saying. 'So I might end up being pretty busy for the next ten years or so. Are you sure you don't want to hold her, Maxine? Look, she's smiling.'
Maxine's look said it all. Everybody studiously stuffed themselves with cake for the next few minutes as Jason's relationship went through some speedy death throes. Laura found her throat too constricted to swallow, however. Jason had just been made very firmly single again, and Jason never stayed single for long. Just how far from home would he go looking for a replacement for the beautiful Maxine? Maybe he wouldn't bother looking at all for a while. He might even be upset by the breakup. She watched anxiously from the corner of her eye as he turned back from the doorway where his final words and probably an apology to Maxine had gone unheeded.
'Hey, have you lot eaten all that cake?' Jason shook his head sadly. 'Oink, oink!'
'You can have mine,' Laura offered. Relief that Jason wasn't noticeably devastated at the breakup of yet another relationship made her smile widely. 'I've only eaten half.'
'Thanks, Laura.' Jason sat down beside her and swapped the baby for the cake plate. 'I knew I could count on you.'
Laura smiled at Megan. Jason focussed on the half-slice of banana cake and neither of them was aware of the new wave of meaningful glances exchanged in the room.
Or the rather satisfied-looking smiles.
'DID you have anything specific in mind?'
Laura stared at her reflection in the huge mirror facing her. Her peripheral vision took in the figure of the young hairdresser who was also eyeing the thick, mousy, one-length hair she had just combed out.
'Just a trim, I guess.' Laura's nose wrinkled as she continued to stare at herself. 'It's been at least a year since it had a good cut and the ends must be horribly split.'
'How do you normally wear it?' The length of her hair was now wound around the hairdresser's hand and was being scooped up to sit in a heap on top of her head. She caught her client's gaze in the mirror and Laura grinned.
'Not like that,' she said. 'I just tie it back in a ponytail to keep it out of the way.'
The hair was released and then fluffed out by expert fingers. 'You've got quite a bit of natural curl, you know. It's just too heavy in one length for it to show. Have you ever thought of having it layered?'
'But then I wouldn't be able to tie it back. I'm a paramedic. I can't have my hair flopping into a patient's face when I'm leaning over them.'
'So why not cut it a bit shorter? You could still have it down to your shoulders if you want to keep the length. If it's layered and shaped it would sit neatly around your face. Look.' The hair got gathered up and pulled back firmly as it would be in a ponytail. 'Like this, all you see is your face.'
'And my glasses.' Laura grimaced. 'I've never noticed how much like a car's headlamps they look.'
The hold on her hair loosened and changed so that thick loops hung forward, covering the sides of her spectacles and framing her forehead. Amazingly, the glasses became far less noticeable and the whole appearance of Laura's face softened.
'Hmm. I rather like that.'
The hairdresser was still playing with her tresses. 'What about the colour?'
Laura sighed. 'Dead mouse, I'd call it.'
Her stylist grinned. 'It's not that bad. You've got a lot of blonde in there. A few highlights would bring it out. How much time have you got this morning?'
'As long as I like.' Laura's sigh was much happier this time. Jason had insisted she have the morning to herself to do whatever she felt like doing. Right now, she felt like making a real effort to improve her appearance. 'I'm sold,' she told the hairdresser. 'Go for it. Do whatever you like.'
'Cool. Let's get stuck into the highlights first, then. Shouldn't take more than an hour and a half.'
Ninety minutes of sheer self-indulgence. Bliss. Laura browsed through magazines but couldn't find an article that was more interesting than what was already going on in her head.
That magic wand that had apparently been waved over Inglewood station the morning Megan had arrived seemed to have been used for another small swish in the last couple of days---Laura suspected it had happened during Maxine's visit to the station---and another fundamental change was occurring in her world.
It hadn't happened quite yet but the building anticipation was undeniable and rather delicious. Yesterday had been a little shaky, admittedly. It had been their first day off after a night shift, and she and Jason had taken turns catching up on some sleep, but Jason emerged from his afternoon nap with a very uncharacteristically subdued manner.
'You OK?' Laura had queried. 'You can get some more sleep if you want. Megan's happy.'
'Nah. If I do that I won't sleep tonight and then I'll still be tired tomorrow.'
'Do you want to go out tonight? I'll babysit.'
'Who with?' Jason had sounded resigned rather than heartbroken.
'Stick,' Laura had suggested promptly. 'Or Mitch. You haven't had a night out with your mates for ages.'
'They're not my mates any more,' Jason had said darkly. 'How am I supposed to keep the rent up on this place by myself?' His face had brightened momentarily. 'Hey, you don't want to move in, do you Laura? Even if Megan goes home, you'd make a great flatmate.'
If Megan went home? Maybe the comment to Maxine hadn't just been an escape route for the moment. The thought of being a 'flatmate' for Jason was less than appealing, however.
'Sorry, Jase. I already own a house. My best friend, Charlie, is living with me at the moment to help pay the mortgage. Anyway, I'm sure Stick and Mitch will come back once things are back to normal.'
'They prefer Cliff's sleepout,' Jason reminded her. 'It's cheaper. You must have heard them going on about their plans to save up and buy a house together. They're going to live in it and do it up on their days off and then sell it for a huge profit and start again.'
Jason's heavy sigh reminded Laura of more than just any conversations that had been ongoing at work. His mood was understandable. In fact, it was remarkable that he hadn't been plunged into the depths of depression, really. Maxine's exit from his life had probably underscored just how much had changed in a very short period of time. Jason had become a father, had had a bomb detonated under his lifestyle both at work and especially at home; his mates had not only defected from living with him, they were now planning an exciting project that he was excluded from; and his girlfriend had dumped him. He had a lot to think about.
As did Laura.
Jason had not only made more than one reference to the possibility that Shelley might not be riding in on a white charger to rescue him from the parental predicament he found himself in, he'd actually hinted that he wouldn't be overly pleased if she did.
Laura had tentatively tested the waters last night by voicing the suggestion that it might be time to try tracking Megan's mother down. Surprisingly, Jason had vetoed the idea with an almost disgusted shake of his head.
'She knows where her baby is,' he'd muttered. 'And if she gave a damn she would have at least made contact by now to see if she's OK.' The clearing of his throat made it seem as though Jason had made a decision. 'I reckon Megan's better off where she is.'
'She won't be able to stay in the country very long on a visitor's permit,' Laura pointed out. 'It's only a matter of months, isn't it? And she won't be able to leave the country without explaining what she's done with her baby.'
'We'll deal with that when it happens,' Jason decreed. 'If that's OK with you, Laura.'
It was more than OK. They were a team and they were both fighting in Megan's corner.
Laura's new hairstyle was also more than OK. Laura was delighted when she walked out of the salon. She was even more delighted when she saw Jason's expression.
'Nice' was the only word of approbation but his eyes were saying a great deal more and Laura tucked her impressions away with all the other things that seemed to be coated with fairy dust.
'Your turn now,' Laura told Jason. 'You get to have the afternoon off to do whatever you like.'
'How 'bout a drive somewhere? We could take Megan to the beach. I'll bet she's never seen a beach.'
'I haven't seen one myself for a while.' Laura also tucked away the fact that Jason had given up an afternoon's reprieve in order to spend time with her and Megan.
As usual they took Laura's hatchback car, because Jason still hadn't cleaned out his own vehicle and she had declared it a health hazard for babies the first time they had taken Megan home. She wasn't about to suggest he spend his free afternoon catching up with that task, though, not when the prospect of a family-type outing was in the offing for the first time.
And it was great.
They drove out of the city, taking the coastal road to the wide expanses of Paraparaumu beach. The warm spring afternoon held all the promise of a hot summer to come, and while the water was still far too cold to contemplate even a paddle, Jason eyed the gentle surf longingly.
'Do you remember summer holidays when you were a kid?'
'My family had a bach at Waihi. Corrugated iron walls, outside loo, no electricity. Must have been hell for Mum but we loved it. We'd spend the whole of January there some years.'
'Good surf?'
Laura laughed. 'Don't tell me you really are an ex-surfer?'
'What does she mean?' Jason directed the question to the baby he was holding as they walked along the firm, damp sand just out of reach of the waves. 'Look, Peanut.' He turned his daughter and held her face outwards to the view. 'This is a New Zealand beach,' he said proudly. 'It's where most of us live for the summer holidays. We swim and build sandcastles and have picnics and barbecues. And surf,' he added firmly. 'There's nothing better than catching a wave, kid. When you're big enough I'll get you a boogie board and teach you how to use it.'
Except that Megan would probably be spending her Januarys in a cold, grey city on the other side of the world, but neither of them mentioned that.
They sat for a while amongst the tussock-covered sand dunes and Jason was the one who fed Megan. He laughed at the baby's expression on tasting her milk.
'Yeah, I know it's cold. Food always tastes different at the beach. Better,' he added wistfully. He glanced up at Laura. 'Look at that---she's not bothered that it's cold. She's a little trouper, isn't she?'
'She's great,' Laura said quietly.
Jason broke the short silence that fell a minute or two later. 'Talking about food at the beach...I'm starving.'
'I'm not surprised. It's three o'clock and we haven't had lunch. Did you see that fish-and-chip shop we passed just down the road?'
'Let's go.' Jason put Megan upright against his shoulder and was rubbing her back with what seemed like an automatic gesture. She obliged by burping loudly only seconds later, and then Jason was on his feet. 'She's going to need a nap soon.'
'She'll sleep in the car.'
'We could take a longer route home. I'll drive this time, if you like. Let's go over the hills and back through the Hutt Valley. I haven't been out that way for years.'
Neither had Laura. 'I never knew there was an animal park out here. Look, it says it has deer and donkeys and goats and you're allowed to feed them all. Be great fun for kids.'
'We'll bring Megan some time when she's awake.'
'She might be a bit young to appreciate it.'
'We're not, though.' Jason turned to grin at Laura but she clutched at his arm.
'Look out, Jase!'
Jason swore roundly as a car, passing them at speed on the downhill stretch, cut in way too sharply. 'What's he in such a big hurry for? Idiot.'
The black BMW containing the idiot had reached the bottom of the slope. Laura's mouth gaped as she saw the swerve when its outside wheels left the tarmac. An instant later, the car had vanished.
'Oh, my God---it's gone over the bank!'
Jason already had the hazard lights on Laura's car flashing. He pulled off the road well before the bend so that oncoming traffic would see the vehicle.
'Stay here,' he ordered. 'I'll go and see what's happened.'
'We know what's happened. That was a hell of a crash we just heard. It's highly likely that someone's injured. I'm coming, too.'
'But we can't just leave Megan.'
'She's sound asleep and perfectly safe in her car seat.' Laura was pulling her first-aid kit, in a small green backpack, from the back of her car. 'Come on, Jason. We're wasting time.'
The bank was steep. They could see the wheels of the unfortunate car, one still spinning, as it lay upside down towards the bottom of the bank. They couldn't see any occupants due to the shrubby undergrowth beneath the trees. Laura's foot slipped as she scrambled down after Jason and he caught her arm and steadied her.
'Careful, babe,' he warned. 'Take it slowly.' He released her arm but took hold of her hand instead and Laura was quite happy to make the journey a team effort. He was quite right, of course. The first rule for any rescuer was not to become one of the casualties, and it would be only too easy to slip and break an ankle or wrist on terrain like this when she was wearing trainers rather than her heavy work boots.
Jason was equally careful as they neared the wreck. 'Don't go downhill from the vehicle,' he warned. 'It's not secure enough to be safe. Can you smell any fuel?'
'No.' Laura sniffed again just to be sure.
'Good. Neither do I.' Jason peered into one of the back windows of the vehicle. 'I can't see anyone.'
Laura looked at where the driver's window was half-buried in soft earth. Or had the roof been compressed that far down? She knelt down and found she could see more than she expected of the front seats. Unexpectedly, she couldn't see any people. Had Jason missed seeing someone crumpled behind the front seats on the roof that was now the floor of the vehicle perhaps?
'Hello!' She called. 'Can anyone hear me?'
'There's a branch been knocked off this tree.' Jason picked up what could have passed for a tree trunk with ease. 'I'll see if I can jam it somewhere on the other side to stabilise the---What the...!' Jason dropped the tree branch and spun around. His laugh was one of embarrassed relief. 'It's a dog!' he exclaimed. 'I thought someone was grabbing my leg.'
The dog was black and curly and very fat. It cringed at the first movement from Jason but then wiggled apologetically closer and sat on his foot.
'It's shaking,' Laura observed. 'It's probably been thrown clear of the car.'
'Doesn't look like it's hurt too badly.' Jason moved his foot but the dog moved swiftly and recaptured the contact. 'It's OK,' Jason told it. 'You're safe now. Can you get out of the way so we can find your owner?'
Jason was satisfied enough with his positioning of the branch to let them confirm that the car was empty. The dog obviously hadn't been the only passenger to be thrown clear of the wreck. They searched the surrounding area in expanding circles, with Jason still insisting that Laura take the higher ground.
'Up here!' Laura shouted a minute later. 'I've found someone.'
'He can't have been wearing a seat belt, then.' Jason was beside her within seconds. 'How is he?'
'Unconscious but breathing well,' Laura told him. 'I can't see any major head injury. We'll have to assume he was the only one in the car for the moment. Can you come behind his head and keep his neck stable?'
'Sure. Do you think he's got a spinal injury?'
'Given the mechanism of injury, it's fairly high on the index of suspicion.' Laura checked her phone but the reception had been patchy enough on the road when she had first alerted the emergency services. It had gone completely now and she would not be able to give them an update on the situation. Turning back to the accident victim, Laura ran her hands over the middle-aged man in a body sweep for any obvious bleeding. 'He's got a fractured femur,' she told Jason, pointing to the obvious misalignment of the man's leg. She carried on with a rapid secondary survey. 'Pelvis is stable, that's good.' She was ripping open a woollen bush shirt as they heard a call from above.
'Do you need any help?'
'Have you got a phone?'
'Yes.'
'Call triple one,' Laura directed. 'Tell them we have one patient. No entrapment. Ask them how long it will be before they get here.'
'And check on our baby, would you?' Jason yelled. 'She's in the back seat of our car.'
Our baby. Our car. But Laura couldn't afford to take the time to savour the feeling the words gave her. Her patient was regaining consciousness and groaning loudly.
'Don't try to move,' Laura said. 'It's all right. You've been in an accident but you're safe now.'
The reassurance in Laura's tone was enough to attract the fat black dog, which lay down on its stomach and then wriggled forward like a snake until its nose was right beside Jason's hand.
'Hello again,' Jason said. 'You all right, dog?'
A long, curly black tail wagged in an embarrassed fashion.
The groans from the dog's owner were becoming intelligible words. Laura hung her stethoscope around her neck, satisfied that her patient did not have a chest injury severe enough to interfere with his breathing.
'Keep still,' she said again. 'You may have hurt your neck or back.'
'I...I'm fine,' the man groaned. 'Let me sit up.'
'Not yet.' Laura kept a restraining hand on the man's shoulder. 'What's your name?'
'Bill Treffers. What's yours?'
'I'm Laura. I'm a paramedic. And that's Jason, holding your head. He's a fireman.'
'Hi,' Jason said. 'Must say I'm impressed. It's not everyone that makes sure they've got representatives around from the emergency services when they take their car for a flying lesson.'
'Oh...God,' Bill groaned. 'My car. Is it wrecked?'
'Were you the only person in the car, Bill?' Laura queried.
'Yes. It was just me and that damned dog. The stupid mongrel fell on top of me when I was going around the corner. It's all his fault. I hope he's underneath the car.'
Jason caught Laura's glance but she was glad he didn't voice his obvious reaction to the statement. The 'damned dog' had slithered back to sit on Jason's foot again as soon as Bill had started talking.
'Take a deep breath for me, Bill,' Laura instructed. 'Does anything hurt?'
'No. I'm fine, I said. Let me get up.' Bill tried to move and then swore profusely. 'My leg,' he groaned.
'It's broken,' Laura informed him. 'An ambulance should be here shortly. They'll be able to give you some pain relief.' She could make contact with someone who would give her permission to put an IV line in even though she was off duty, which might speed up the man's analgesia, but Laura's professional empathy for him was much less than it had been before he'd mentioned his dog. 'I'm going to check your neck and back out now,' she told him. 'Try and keep still.'
The new arrival to the scene slithered part way down the bank. 'Your baby's fine,' he called. 'Seems to be sound asleep, and they said the police and ambulance would be here in about ten minutes.'
It was almost an hour later that Jason and Laura finally clambered back up the steep bank as they assisted with carrying Bill's scoop stretcher. He was taken away in the ambulance and a young female police officer reluctantly handed Megan back. 'She was crying,' she explained. 'So I picked her up. She's gorgeous, isn't she?'
Megan was happy enough to go back into her car seat.
'I'll put it in the front seat this time, shall I?' Jason asked. 'I'll sit in the back with Oscar.'
'Are you sure about this?' Laura eyed the fat black dog currently leaning against Jason's leg with its mournful black eyes firmly fixed on his face. 'He doesn't smell great.'
'So we'll give him a bath. We couldn't leave him behind. Bastard Bill was on his way to have him put down.'
'Hmm.' Further conversation had revealed that Bill's mother had gone into a rest home recently and her dog, a six-year-old motley cross between a Labrador and a poodle, had been locked up in Bill's garage because his wife refused to have him in the house. His messy search for food or a distraction in the rubbish bags that morning had been the last straw and Bill had been summoned home from work to deal with it. The SPCA would have been an alternative to having the dog destroyed, but Jason and Oscar had clearly formed a bond.
'A dog is a big responsibility,' Laura felt obliged to remind him. 'Might not be easy keeping one with shift work.'
'Be a darned sight easier than looking after a baby,' Jason declared. 'And kids need a dog around.'
Again, they both ignored the obvious and Jason sat in the back seat with the smelly dog while Laura drove them home. Oscar had to stay outside until later that evening, but as soon as Megan was settled Jason unearthed all the old towels he could find and ran a bath full of warm water.
'Will dishwashing liquid be OK?'
'I think baby shampoo might be better.'
'Hey, good idea! I should have thought of that for your bath.'
'You didn't!'
'Didn't what?'
'Put dishwashing liquid in my bath.'
'It needed bubbles. Worked quite well, I thought.'
'No wonder my skin's been feeling so dry all week.'
'Bet it was squeaky clean, though.'
'You're impossible.' Laura laughed. 'But never mind. Let's see if we can get Oscar squeaky clean, shall we?'
Oscar didn't take kindly to being bathed. He shook the offending substance off frequently enough to soak the walls, floor, Jason and Laura. It took six towels to get him reasonably dry, and by then the dog was so tired out by the trauma of it all he curled up on the pile of damp towels and went very firmly to sleep.
'I know how he feels,' Jason groaned. 'I'm heading for bed as soon as I've dried off as well.' He stripped his soaked T-shirt off and was about to drop it on the floor when he caught Laura's stare. She had taken her glasses off because of the rain effect of Oscar's shaking, but even the depth of colour in her brown eyes wasn't enough to conceal the dilation of her pupils. The sight of a pink tongue tip running over her lower lip confirmed what Jason was thinking. The heavy T-shirt slipped from his fingers, unheeded. His mates were right. Laura did fancy him.
His gaze didn't stop at her face. Laura's T-shirt was as wet as his had been and it clung to her breasts. Jason dragged his gaze back up to her face and the moment the eye contact was renewed he realised the truth. Any attraction here was mutual. For a long moment they simply stared at each other. And then Jason reached out.
'You'd better get that T-shirt off,' he murmured. 'You'll catch a cold.'
He helped her. It was Jason that dropped the damp garment. This time as their gazes caught Jason was much closer, and it was so easy to bend his head and kiss Laura's upturned face.
One kiss was not enough. It could never have been enough. Jason could taste things he'd never thought it was possible to taste. All the things he liked about Laura were there---her kindness and loyalty, her intelligence and warmth. Her humour and strength. And he learned something new about Laura Green. Despite anything that appearances might have suggested, she was capable of a passion that blew his socks off.
One kiss and then another...and another. Jason's tone when he spoke might have been cheeky but the question in his eyes was very serious.
'I think you might catch a cold, wearing that damp bra. You'd better get it off.'
He helped her. The lacy garment went the same way as the T-shirt and this time Jason could explore the delicious softness of a body type he'd never had the pleasure of tasting before.
'You're gorgeous,' he told Laura. 'Did you know that?'
'You're not half bad yourself,' she responded shyly. Then she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. 'But I think you should get out of those damp jeans before you catch a cold.'
She helped him and Jason didn't even bother to stifle a groan of pure desire as she tackled the button and zip. He caught her hands. 'If you want this to stop,' he warned, 'it had better be now.'
The gaze from those chocolate-brown eyes was perfectly steady. 'I don't want it to stop,' she said softly. 'Do you?'
'Hell, no!' Jason grinned, swept Laura up into his arms and carried her towards his bedroom.
For a moment, as she lay on his bed, Jason experienced a flash of panic. Was he out of his mind? This was Laura---a mate, one of the boys, no less, and a friend he was depending on to help him through a period of crisis in his life. And then Laura smiled and reached out, drawing his head down to hers, and at the touch of her lips Jason knew he'd never been more sane in his life.
The blinding clarity with which he could suddenly see the reason for all his past romantic disasters was a revelation, drawing a sigh of contentment that mingled with Laura's breath as Jason gave up thinking about the wisdom of what he was doing. Gave up thinking full stop, in fact, and simply allowed himself to experience, body and mind, the most wonderful sex he'd ever had.
The revelation came back later as he lay, curled around Laura's body, listening to her soft, even breathing as she slept. It was as though he'd been trying to fit the pieces of a puzzle together in the wrong order for all these years. Sex, friendship and then a lasting love. It had never worked and now he knew why.
With the friendship and trust coming first, it added a dimension to the sex that he'd never known could exist. Even with Donna, and the twelve-month relationship, by the time they'd developed any kind of trust and friendship, that initial mind-blowing lust had worn off and the friendship had faded in much the same way.
This thing with Laura was completely different. To be honest, it scared the hell out of him because, this time, he didn't want anything to fade. The friendship or the lust. If those held together then he knew that would be the kind of love that could last a lifetime.
He'd told Laura a while back about the attributes he looked for in women. They had to be fun to be with. Adventurous. And at least reasonably intelligent. Laura was fun, no doubt about that, and her intelligence was equally unquestionable. Adventurous? How many women would demand to go slithering down a steep bank to explore a wrecked car for potential victims? Or take on the adoption of a fat, smelly dog? Or move into a virtual stranger's house to help look after a baby, for that matter? What was any of that if it wasn't adventurous?
This was scary all right. Jason could recognise what he'd found and, for the first time in his life, he had found something he really, really didn't want to lose. This was it. For all these years he had been skating on the surface of life---all fun and no responsibility. He wouldn't have taken on his current situation if he'd had any real choice in the matter, and he had to admit he wouldn't have looked twice at Laura if he'd been on a mission to find female companionship.
Circumstances had pushed his boundaries and had had the side effect of making Jason grow up a little. He considered the sobering realisation of just how meaningless his love life had been until now. A selection of bimbos who had impressed the hell out of his colleagues, but now he could see himself through Laura's eyes and he almost groaned aloud. No wonder she had told him he was shallow.
He was shallow. Or, at least, he had been until now. The depth to which he wanted involvement with Laura was terrifying. She had the power to hurt him very badly if she didn't want what he could offer. And why should she on anything more than a short-term basis? Laura was so far above the kind of women he had always attracted so easily. Maybe she was too good for the likes of him to aspire to.
The fact was that Laura was out of his league in any category that really mattered, and Jason knew it. He'd have to work hard to win her and she wasn't going to settle for second best. She'd walked out on a guy after living with him for two years because he hadn't measured up. Jason couldn't bear the thought of giving all he had and still finding he hadn't made the grade a couple of years down the track.
How could he convince Laura that he was worth being with...for ever?
Darkness hid his smile. He had a bonus that no one else could offer. Something that Laura already loved.
He had Megan.
'WHAT is it, Tim?' Laura paused in her task of restocking the resuscitation kit. 'Have I sprouted horns or something?'
'I'm trying to work out what's so different about you.'
'Can't be my hair. I've had it like this for two weeks now.' Laura pushed her fingers through the soft, loose waves framing her face and then shook them back into place. The pleasure of her new, free style had increased rather than worn off. 'We need some more lancets for the blood-glucose kit,' she told Tim. 'And a couple of high-concentration masks.'
'Sure. How's the Entonox cylinder looking, seeing as you're up that end?'
Laura leaned over the end of the stretcher she was sitting on and then laughed as her shirt came adrift from her trousers.
'Oops. I wish my new uniform issue would come through.' She tucked the shirt tail firmly back into place. 'I'm getting sick of these baggy pants.'
'You've lost weight.' Tim nodded slowly. 'Maybe that's it.'
'It's not so much the weight,' Laura told him. 'I've just changed shape a bit. Toned up. It's all the exercise I'm getting.' She leaned more carefully towards the regulator valve of the Entonox cylinder, hoping that Tim wouldn't notice the faint colour she could feel heating her cheeks. Jason had claimed all the credit for keeping her levels of physical activity up enough to burn off a few kilograms. He'd even looked worried.
'You'll turn into a stick insect in six months at this rate. Maybe we should have a night off.'
But they hadn't because neither of them had wanted to. Laura would be quite happy to keep up her steady weight loss but it really didn't matter. She was far happier with the thought of still being with Jason in six months' time.
'It's probably walking Oscar every night that's done the trick.' Laura tried to sound offhand. 'Everybody should adopt a very fat dog when they want to get in shape.'
They both looked out of the window of the ambulance to the fire engine parked beside them in the huge garage. The back passenger window was open and hanging out of it was the curly black head of a happy-looking dog. Oscar had been adopted as readily as Megan had been at the station. He wasn't allowed inside, of course, but even Mrs McKendry had to acknowledge that he was a well-behaved animal. He sat guarding the fire engine during his family's working hours unless it was required for active duty, when he was happy to sleep on the old coat that now had a permanent place on the floor by the locker-room door.
The smile Laura gave on seeing Oscar was imperceptible. Maybe everybody should bathe a very smelly dog when they wanted to kick-start the love affair of their lives. Who would have thought that an unwanted Labradoodle could provide such a romantic catalyst? The dog might have made its intention to worship Jason for the rest of its life obvious by now but he would always have Laura's gratitude and affection. Except possibly when he indulged his passion for exploring rubbish bags.
Laura twisted the key on the regulator and watched the needle flick up the dial. 'Three quarters full,' she informed Tim. 'Enough laughing gas to keep a whole busload of patients happy.'
'That's it,' Tim said in a satisfied tone. 'That's what's so different about you. You're happy.'
'I am,' Laura admitted. Happy was a very pale adjective for how she felt but it would do under the circumstances. She was rapt. Her dream had come true. Jason had got to know her well enough to find her attractive and, judging by their lovemaking over the last two weeks, he found her very attractive. And she felt attractive, for the first time in her life. The weight loss had very little to do with it. Neither did the new hairstyle. Laura felt wanted and appreciated for far more than what she could offer in bed, and she was loving every minute of it. They had welded into a tight team, she and Jason, and it didn't matter that their focus was so much on Megan---not when they could find the private moments that made every shared sleeping time so memorable.
Laura wouldn't even allow herself the niggling concern that the main reason Jason wanted her to still be there in six months' time might be because he was coming to like the idea of keeping his daughter. She didn't care. She loved both of them too much to let that be a problem. If Jason asked her tomorrow to marry him and be a mother to Megan, she wouldn't hesitate in saying yes.
'Yeah,' Laura said softly, as she caught the look Tim was giving her. Suddenly she wanted to share a little of her joy with her partner. 'I don't think I've ever been this happy before in my life.'
Tim's smile was wistful as he caught her meaning. 'I'm happy for you, Laura. You make a wonderful couple. What with Megan and that funny-looking dog you found, you've turned into an instant family.'
Laura watched Tim disappear into the stockroom to find the supplies they needed. The almost imperceptible slump of his shoulders confirmed what she already knew. Her partner wanted a family of his own. He could see the magic that had been wrought in Laura's life and knew that it was never going to happen that easily for him.
It felt exactly like magic. Wave a wand and...poof! An instant family. And it was all going so smoothly. They had developed a routine that seemed to work now and most jobs were shared at least to some degree. Megan was settled enough to sleep through the night sometimes, especially since they'd started their long evening walks. The days were getting longer and it was a pleasant way to end the day even after a busy shift. Laura got to hold Oscar's shiny new lead because Jason wore the front pack, which allowed Megan to face forward and view her surroundings, not to mention wave her little arms and kick her legs when things got interesting. She was always tired on their return home and a quick feed and nappy change was usually enough to see her out for the count until morning.
Yes, it felt like a well-oiled family unit. Maybe they would have a problem if Mrs McKendry decided she didn't want to help, but the older woman loved Megan as much as any of them now, and if the worst happened, Laura was quite prepared to consider taking maternity leave to carry on being a surrogate mother.
The fact that Megan was the key to it all shouldn't be enough to cause that niggle of doubt, should it? Or the fact that everything was falling into place so perfectly? OK, so maybe they would have to fight to keep Megan if Shelley decided to come back for her but surely they could win? They'd be a full family unit, complete with a prime example of a contented dog, against a solo mother who'd been prepared to abandon her child.
They could even have the solid base of owning their own home. Laura hadn't yet suggested the idea of moving into her house, but it was the logical next step. Charlie had only been intending to live with her until she got settled into her new city and job. Laura had hardly spoken to her in the last couple of weeks and she suspected it had a lot to do with whatever was going on between Charlie and that scary partner she had to work with, so it seemed like she had already settled very well. Laura only hoped that her best friend was half as happy as she was in her love affair. She would never forget the thrill of that first time Jason had said he loved her...not in a million years. Even hearing the echo of his words in her head was enough to create the most delicious tingle that ran the length of her spine.
The latches on the resuscitation kit clicked into place and Laura pushed the box behind the end of the stretcher so it wouldn't cause mischief with fast cornering. She managed to shut off any latent personal worries as her pager sounded to announce a new job. The worst---the very worst---thing that could happen would be that they would lose Megan. It would be hard, awful, but she and Jason could always have children of their own, couldn't they? If Jason lost full-time custody of Megan, he might be very keen to start a family of his own as soon as possible.
It was Tim's turn to drive. Laura was checking the map reference as he pulled the door open, dropped the extra supplies on the floor beside the handbrake and picked up the remote to activate the huge roller doors on the garage.
'Abdo pain,' he said. 'What do you reckon? Appendicitis? Ovarian torsion? Or do we get to deliver a surprise baby for someone this afternoon?'
'It's at a restaurant.' Laura said. 'That posh one on the corner of Frampton and Davies roads. Food poisoning, maybe?'
'Priority one?' Tim activated the beacons and siren as they entered the dense stream of traffic heading into the city centre looking for some Friday night entertainment.
'I imagine the manager of any restaurant would be pretty worried if someone looked sick after eating their food.'
The manager of Framptons looked more than worried. He was waiting on the road for the ambulance and the frantic waving as they approached suggested that the call might be for something rather more serious than food poisoning.
Tim leapt out to open the back doors of the ambulance while Laura slipped out of her seat and straight into the back to start throwing equipment onto the stretcher. They'd take the lot. Life pack, oxygen, resuscitation and suction units. She could hear the restaurant manager's voice as Tim opened the doors.
'She'd finished her meal. They stood up to leave and then she just doubled over, clutching her stomach.'
Tim helped lift the stretcher, laden with gear, to the ground.
'We sat her down and got her a glass of water but she looked terrible.'
They were walking into the restaurant now. Past tables shrouded in crisp, white linen, gleaming silverware and soft, flickering light from small candelabra illuminating bowls of white roses. The venue looked like the perfect setting for a wedding breakfast.
'There was a nurse having dinner at another table. She laid her down on the floor and put her legs up. She started to feel better but then she sat up and kind of fainted.'
'Sounds hypotensive,' Tim commented to Laura.
'Yes, but why?' Waiting staff were hurriedly clearing a route through the dining room, shifting empty chairs and pushing tables together. A group of diners was being moved to a table further away from the scene of the woman's collapse and they stared at the ambulance crew as though they were responsible for the interruption to their meal. Laura ignored the stares. This woman's abdominal pain might actually be epigastric pain from a heart attack. Or something equally serious.
Their patient was lying on the floor near the back corner of the restaurant, a cushion under her head and two more under her feet. An anxious-looking man was holding her hand and a slim, well-dressed blonde woman had her hand on the other wrist.
'Hi,' she said. 'I'm Kathryn Mercer. I'm a nurse.'
'Hi.' Tim's smile was fleeting. 'I'm Tim and this is Laura.'
Laura didn't acknowledge the introduction. The patient looked shocked. She was pale, sweaty and barely conscious. Thankful that she had grabbed one of the high-concentration oxygen masks from the floor, Laura jammed the tubing onto the cylinder outlet. 'What's her name?'
'Jillian,' the man beside her answered.
'Jillian, can you hear me? Open your eyes for me.'
The only response was an incoherent groan.
'No radial pulse,' Tim reported. 'Airway's clear.'
Laura started connecting up the leads for the life pack. A very shiny pair of black shoes appeared behind her elbow and her gaze flicked up for a second, expecting to see the restaurant manager moving in to watch proceedings. The pair of immaculate, pin-striped grey trousers belonged to a stranger, however.
'Come on, Kathryn. It's time we left. There's no need for you to be involved here any longer.'
Tim looked up swiftly from where he was wrapping the blood-pressure cuff around Jillian's arm. He ignored the man in the nice suit. 'How long has she been like this?'
'Only a couple of minutes. She seemed to come right after I got her to lie down and put her feet up. Then she insisted on sitting up and started to look shocked very quickly. Her radial pulse was palpable until her GCS dropped.'
Laura was sticking on electrodes. She heard what seemed to be an exasperated sigh as the shiny shoes disappeared. She paused for just a moment to rub a knuckle on her patient's breastbone. 'Jillian? Open your eyes.'
The response to the painful stimulus was another groan and an uncoordinated attempt to push Laura's hand away, but Jillian's eyes remained closed.
'I'd put the GCS at 7,' Laura said to Tim. She looked up at the other people, her gaze taking in both the nurse, who looked to be about her own age, and Jillian's husband, who was well into his sixties. 'Any medical history?' she queried. 'Does she have a heart condition? Diabetes?'
'She's got high blood pressure,' her husband responded. 'Has done for years. She's not having a stroke, is she? Oh, God!' He covered his face with his hands and they could all hear a sob.
The restaurant manager was almost wringing his hands with anxiety and Laura caught his eye. 'Could you take care of Jillian's husband for the moment? It'll be a few minutes before we're ready to leave.'
The manager looked relieved to have a task. He put his arm around the man's heaving shoulders. 'Come with me, sir. Let's get you sitting down just for a minute. Jillian's in the best hands possible right now.'
'It didn't look like a stroke.' Kathryn shook her head. 'She was quite alert earlier and she didn't complain of a headache. I didn't notice any speech difficulties or obvious neurological deficit.'
Tim released the valve on the sphygmomanometer and the air rushed out of the cuff with a hiss. 'BP's 70 over 40,' he reported grimly. 'What's her rhythm like?'
'Sinus,' Laura said. 'Seventy beats per minute.' Oddly normal, in other words.
'I'll get an IV in.' Tim reached into the kit for supplies and Laura picked up a penlight torch and lifted Jillian's eyelids.
'Pupils are equal but both dilated and sluggish.'
'Kathryn.' The clipped word from somewhere behind Laura was a command for attention, but the blonde woman had her gaze fixed on Tim.
'Is there anything else I can do to help?'
'You're a nurse, you said?'
'Yes. I used to work in Emergency, though it's been a while. I'm just a general practice nurse now. Part time.'
'Could you do a blood sugar for us maybe? That is, if...' Tim's raised eyebrow was intended to question the advisability of her staying to help.
'That's fine.' Kathryn raised her head only for a moment. 'Just give me a minute or two, Sean. Please?'
'I'll get a second IV in,' Laura decided. 'She needs fluids, stat. What are you using, a 14 gauge?'
'Yeah. The wider the bore the better right now.'
Kathryn had opened the BGL kit. She held one of the woman's fingers, used the lancet to elicit a drop of blood and then deftly collected the tiny sample on the end of the Glucocard. The meter beeped as it started its calculation.
'You've done that before.' Tim glanced up as he secured a luer plug to the IV cannula he'd just inserted.
'It's one of the few invasive procedures I get to do these days.' The blonde woman's smile was wry. 'I envy you guys.' The meter beeped again and she picked it up. 'BGL's in normal range. It's 5.6.'
'Good. Thanks for that.'
Laura was slipping her cannula into place on Jillian's other arm. 'Could you draw up an extra flush for me, please, Tim?'
'I could do that,' Kathryn offered eagerly.
'Oh, for God's sake.' The irritated snap came from Kathryn's well-dressed partner. 'I've had about enough, Kathryn. Our dinner has already been ruined and now you're making a spectacle of yourself, crawling around on the floor. I'm leaving.' He proved his intention by turning and walking away. 'If you want to stay and play doctors and nurses that's fine, but you'll have to find your own way home.'
Kathryn bit her lip, hesitated fractionally but then scrambled to her feet. 'OK, Sean. I'm coming.' Hurriedly, she reached down to grab an empty syringe packet and a pen. She scribbled down a telephone number.
'Could you...? I mean, would you mind ringing me, please?' she asked Tim. 'To let me know how she gets on?'
'Sure.'
Kathryn turned but walked only a step or two before turning back. 'What do you think it is?' she asked quietly. 'An MI?'
Tim shook his head. 'She's presented with acute abdo pain, rapid deterioration to shock and she's hypotensive but hasn't developed a rise in her heart rate. My pick is a dissecting or ruptured aortic aneurysm.'
'I think you're right,' Laura said seconds later as Kathryn vanished through the front door of the restaurant. 'There's no palpable femoral pulse on the left side.'
'BP's coming up.' Tim pulled the stethoscope from his ears. 'Let's see if we need to get some morphine on board and then we'd better load and go.'
An hour later, Laura was again restocking the resuscitation kit. She removed empty packaging and a full sharps container so she could see what was missing. 'Amazing how much of a mess we can make, dealing with a medical emergency.'
'Great job, though, wasn't it?' Tim sounded happy. 'And we were right. It was a dissecting aneurysm. I'll wait till she comes out of Theatre and then ring Kathryn to tell her about it.'
'She's been lucky,' Laura said. 'If she hadn't been so close to a hospital she would have been in serious trouble.'
Tim didn't appear to be listening. He was hunting in his pockets. 'You didn't throw that package away, did you? The one with her phone number?' He tried his shirt pocket and sighed with relief. 'No, here it is.'
Laura bit her lip. She had never seen Tim look rattled about something so minor. 'So you're going to call her, then?'
'Are you kidding? The woman of my dreams just gave me her phone number and asked me to call her.'
'But, Tim...' Laura frowned. 'She wasn't exactly alone.'
'I don't think she liked her dinner date any more than anyone else did. What a jerk, complaining about having his meal interrupted because Kathryn's trying to help someone who's seriously sick.'
'But...' Laura cleared her throat. 'She was wearing a wedding ring, Tim. So was he.'
'Was she?' Animation died from Tim's face. 'How on earth did you have time to notice that?'
Laura shrugged. Maybe her subconscious was tuned to noticing things pertaining to weddings at present. Like the silver and white theme in the restaurant. And the plain gold bands on other people's fingers. After all, her dream of Jason putting one on her own finger was a great deal closer than it had been a month ago. Tim turned away with a sigh.
'Why am I not surprised?' he muttered. He screwed up the packaging and dropped it onto the little pile Laura had collected. 'Even if she wasn't married, she probably wouldn't have been interested. I hope you realise how lucky you are, Laura.'
'Oh, I do, don't worry,' Laura murmured. She felt sorry for Tim but his turn would come one of these days. He was a lovely guy and he deserved the same kind of happiness she had found. One that would last a lifetime.
A couple of days might be a lifetime for some kind of insect but it was the blink of an eye for Laura Green. And when she answered the late-evening knock on the front door of Jason's house in Crighton Terrace, she knew instantly that she was in trouble.
If she had collated everything she knew about Jason Halliday and invented a prototype for what he would consider to be the perfect woman, the embodiment of that ideal was currently standing on his doorstep. She didn't need to introduce herself, but that didn't stop those perfectly painted pink lips from opening. Laura had a wild urge to slam the door shut in her face. Instead, she simply waited for the inevitable.
'Hi, I'm Shelley Bates.' Laura found herself stepping back in response to the visitor's forward movement rather than any desire to issue an invitation. 'Is Jason home?'
The nerve of the woman! She actually brushed past Laura as though she were some kind of maid and then walked confidently up the hallway to enter the living room. Laura saw the colour leach from Jason's face as she followed Shelley. He glanced at Laura and the pain of betrayal seemed to be directed at her. It wasn't fair!
'She just waltzed in, Jase. I couldn't stop her.'
Shelley dropped a carry bag, which was large enough to appear ominous, beside the couch. Large blue eyes were regarding Jason. 'I'm sorry to drop in without any warning,' she said, 'but I couldn't bear to be away from Meggie a moment longer.'
Jason's jaw sagged. 'Who are you trying to kid?' he said incredulously. 'You dumped your baby on a doorstep and took off. Well, you can just take off again now as far as we're concerned. We don't want you here.'
Laura hadn't realised she was holding her breath until she felt it seeping out now. 'That's right,' she said coolly. 'Jason is more than capable of caring for his daughter.'
'So you do accept that she's yours?' Shelley smiled for the first time and Laura stared at the perfect teeth in the perfect face. 'I'm so pleased, Jason. I wasn't sure that you would.'
'So that was why you decided to dump her?' Jason hadn't returned the smile. His face was set grimly and the hold on the baby in his arms had tightened enough to make Megan squeak softly in surprise.
'Yes,' Shelley said surprisingly. 'I knew if I turned up with the baby you would have no problem in ignoring both of us. Denying fatherhood and simply sending us packing. I knew my only chance was to make sure you had the opportunity to get to know and accept your daughter.'
Only chance for what? Laura stood beside Jason, stony-faced.
'And now? I suppose you think you can just take her away as easily as you brought her.' Jason cleared his throat. 'You might have bitten off a bit more than you can chew, Shelley.'
'I have no intention of taking her away from you.' Shelley walked towards where they were standing. Oscar raised his head from where it was resting on Jason's knee and growled softly. 'She looks very happy.' Shelley peered over the edges of the blanket and her blue eyes became very bright. 'Hello, darling,' she crooned. 'Mummy's missed you so much.'
Laura felt a faint wave of nausea. Surely Jason could see how fake this woman was? He didn't appear to have thawed yet.
'What do you intend to do, then, Shelley?'
Go back to England, Laura wanted to suggest tartly. Get the hell out of our lives and stay out.
'I just want to talk, Jason. We've got a lot to talk about, haven't we?'
'I suppose so.' The agreement was grudging. 'I guess you'd better sit down.'
Shelley didn't move. She looked directly at Laura for the first time since entering the house. 'It really is a private matter.'
'I don't have any secrets from Laura,' Jason responded. 'And she's as involved in all this as any of us.'
'Really?' Shelley's glance was almost amused. As competition, Laura had just been summarily dismissed.
Seething inwardly, Laura sat on an armchair. Shelley sat on the couch but Jason remained standing, the baby in his arms, the dog pressed firmly against his leg.
Laura watched the longest, most elegant legs she had ever seen cross themselves and display a significant amount more thigh. No matter how toned or thin she herself became, she would never possess legs like that without some kind of transplant. Then Shelley reached up to flick long blonde hair over one shoulder and the movement raised her short top enough to reveal a flat belly with a glinting jewel in her navel. A glance at Jason revealed his gaze was riveted to the woman on the couch and Laura felt something cold and hard form inside her.
He was attracted to Shelley. What man wouldn't be? And Shelley Bates had a card Laura could never play. She was Megan's birth mother. She could take Jason's now beloved child away from him...or she could use her to pull Jason back into her life.
Which was clearly what her intention was.
'I've never forgotten you, Jason. It was the most wonderful holiday I've ever had and the night with you was the best part.'
'You could have fooled me. You didn't even bother to meet me at that pub the next night.'
So, Jason had wanted it to be a little more than a one-night stand, had he? Megan made a distressed noise that fitted how Laura was feeling remarkably well. At least the baby's discomfort could be eased, however.
'I'll fix her a bottle, shall I?'
'I couldn't,' Shelley told Jason. 'We'd taken a boat trip out to Slipper Island and the weather got rough. We had to stay overnight and when I went looking for you the next day, you had gone. I had no idea how to get hold of you.' The sigh was heartfelt. 'I tried again when I found out I was pregnant, of course, but all I knew was your name and that you were a fireman. You wouldn't think New Zealand was a big enough country to make it difficult to find out where someone lives, would you?'
'No,' Jason said. Megan cried again, more loudly this time, and Laura simply got up and walked to the kitchen.
'After Megan was born my b-brother decided he had to help.'
What was that stammer about? Laura wondered sourly, as she stirred formula. Had she just managed to modify 'boyfriend' into something acceptable in time? It hadn't been a 'brother' Mrs Mack had seen delivering the box to the station's doorstep. And where was he now, anyway? She went back into the sitting room a few minutes later and silently handed the bottle to Jason.
'Thanks.' The smile Laura received was distracted, however. Jason's attention was firmly directed to the woman on the couch. 'Where have you been for the last month, Shelley?"
'Just travelling,' she responded sadly, watching as Jason sat down in the armchair and arranged the baby and bottle into satisfactory positions. 'I was in Dunedin most of the time. My brother, Darryn, has a friend there who's trying to find a job. I was just filling in time, thinking about you and Megan and wondering whether you would learn to love her if you were given the chance.'
The longer the silence that fell ticked on, the more significant it seemed to become. Finally, Jason cleared his throat.
'Yeah...well, I guess it worked.'
Shelley's huge blue eyes radiated joy. 'That's wonderful. Now all we need to do is plan our future.'
'Our future?' Jason's incredulity echoed the word that was sounding a strident alarm in Laura's head.
'We have a baby, Jason,' Shelley told him softly. 'The result of the love we shared.'
'For one night,' Jason reminded her. 'It was sex, not love, Shelley.'
'For you, maybe. I think it was more than that. I've never forgotten that night, and I've never forgotten you.'
Laura could understand that, even if she still wasn't at all convinced of this woman's sincerity. If she'd only ever had a single night with Jason, it would be burned into her memory banks for ever as well.
'I want my baby to have a father,' Shelley whispered. 'I want her to have her father.'
'I have no intention of abandoning my daughter.'
'But I want her to have a real father. Not someone on the other side of the world.'
'I'm not planning to shift to Britain,' Jason said firmly. 'But Megan can stay here. I'm sure she'll be allowed to stay in the country on a permanent basis once I'm legally registered as her father.'
'But I wouldn't be allowed to stay,' Shelley said softly. 'And my daughter is staying with me.'
Stick had hit the nail right on the head, Laura realised. Shelley Bates was out to emigrate and Megan was the ace she hadn't bothered to keep up her sleeve. If Jason wanted to keep Megan in his life, he was going to have to marry her mother. And that wouldn't be too much of a hardship, would it?
Shelley was obviously too clever to push the point right now. Instead, she stood up, walked towards Jason and held out her arms.
'I think it's time I got to hold my baby, isn't it?'
For a long second, time seemed to stop. Don't give her Megan, Laura pleaded silently. If you hand her over then she's already won. Then Shelley wiped away a tear that was trickling slowly down the side of her nose.
'Please, Jason?'
The lone tear had done the trick. Laura watched the conflict play across Jason's face. Should he do what he wanted to do and hold onto his child or create further suffering for the woman who was, in all fairness, Megan's mother? Slowly, grudgingly, he transferred his bundle.
To Laura's immense satisfaction, Megan took one look at her mother and started howling.
'Oh, I know, darling.' Shelley clutched the baby and rocked her back and forth. 'Mummy's sorry she left you. But I'm back now. Everything's going to be fine.'
Laura looked at her. She looked at the overnight bag beside the couch. She looked at Megan. And she looked at Jason, who wasn't looking back at her.
Everything was not going to be fine but there was very little Laura could do about it. She had competition now for what she wanted most in her life and while she would be prepared to fight if she knew she had any chance of winning, the odds were rapidly stacking against her.
Even Megan seemed to be letting her down as her cries died away. Shelley continued rocking her and another tear rolled down her cheek.
'I don't know how I've lasted this long without her,' she sighed. 'She was all I had left that really mattered.' She looked up through dewy lashes to smile brokenly at Jason. 'I have a lot to thank you for.'
He simply raised an eyebrow. An unwanted pregnancy for a teenager wasn't usually a cause for celebration.
'When Sharon died I felt so terribly alone,' Shelley continued softly. 'To lose a sister is bad enough but being a twin made it unbearable.'
'What happened to Sharon?' Jason sounded disconcerted.
'She had a blood clot that they said was caused by her being on the Pill. It caused a massive pull...pum...something that wrecked her lungs.'
'Pulmonary embolism?' Laura suggested.
'That's it.' Shelley didn't bother to look at Laura. Her gaze was still fixed on Jason. 'She was put on the waiting list for a heart-lung transplant but it didn't come in time.'
Jason's face softened noticeably. 'That must have been rough.'
Shelley nodded and Laura closed her eyes. Jason was starting to feel sorry for Megan's mother. Any judgmental attitude was undergoing reconsideration. She could almost feel another chunk of the fantasy future she'd been building being ripped away.
'When did it happen?'
'She lived just long enough to see Megan. To...hold her.' Shelley's lip quivered and she struggled to maintain control. 'It was Sharon who chose her name. And she made me promise that I would try to find you and give her a real family. She said my life...and her baby's had to go on, and what better way to make a new start than in a new country?'
Jason's expression plainly revealed the level of sympathy she would expect from someone as kind as he was. The story had touched him deeply, which was hardly surprising. Even Laura could feel a lump the size of a small boulder lodged in her own throat. How factual this story was didn't matter a damn. Shelley had just cracked any barrier Jason had in place and it was only a matter of time before she broke through completely.
Megan must have sensed the tension in the atmosphere because she began crying again.
'I'll have to go soon,' Shelley said. 'I've got nowhere to stay in Wellington so I'll have to find a motel or something.' She looked around. 'Is Meggie's blanket here somewhere?'
'You're not planning to take Megan to some motel, are you?' Laura was horrified.
'She's my baby.'
'You're not taking Megan anywhere,' Jason told her firmly. 'Not until we get a few things sorted out.'
'I'll have to stay here, then. I'm not going without her and I'm too tired to talk any more tonight.'
Megan hiccuped, then burped and then her crying stopped. The silence stretched on even longer this time. Laura tried desperately to make eye contact with Jason to warn him not to fall into the trap, but he was avoiding her gaze.
'I suppose you could have Mitch's room for a night or two,' Jason conceded at last. He looked at Laura finally, a plea of his own written across his face. But Laura wasn't prepared to go along with this. Megan might be this woman's child but it just felt wrong to see the baby in her arms. She couldn't stay in the same house as Shelley Bates.
'It's time I went home for a night or two, anyway.'
'What?'
'I think Shelley's right. This is something the two of you need to sort out.' She couldn't bear sitting here like a piece of the furniture, watching her future unravel before her eyes. It was simply too painful.
'You can't just walk out.' Jason followed her to the door a short time later. 'What the hell am I supposed to do with Shelley?'
'It was you that invited her to stay, Jase.'
'Only because I don't want her dragging Megan off to go hunting for a place to sleep.'
Laura shook her head. 'You don't need me here. I think you've got more chance of dealing with all this if I'm not here. You've got the rest of tonight and all day tomorrow to try and sort things out with Shelley.'
'I don't know how to sort things out.'
'You need to decide what you want and don't let her manipulate you into anything else.'
'I want you to stay.'
'What about Megan?'
'I don't know,' Jason said miserably. 'I know Shelley's her mother but something doesn't feel right.'
Laura said nothing. Of course it didn't feel right. Any concern Shelley had for her child was blatantly fake. Jason, however, had developed a very genuine bond with his daughter and if he decided that Shelley wasn't going to give Megan the love and security she deserved then he would do whatever it took to put things right. And of course he wanted Laura to stay. If he did end up keeping Megan, he would never manage on his own, would he?
Love came in so many shades. Laura knew that Jason was perfectly sincere in telling her he loved her, but did his love come anywhere near measuring up to the depth of her feelings for him? John used to say he loved her often enough when what he really loved was having someone around to love him.
Laura suddenly felt very, very tired. If Jason didn't feel as strongly as she did right now, he never would, and she was not going to spend the rest of her life trying to earn a love that came anywhere near being reciprocal.
Megan was the key to all of this. The magic had begun with her unexpected arrival in their lives and now reality was kicking back in and choices had to be made. Jason had accepted responsibility for his daughter. Now he had to take responsibility for making those choices.
Laura knew she could never happily accept a future that didn't contain Jason. Now it was time to find out whether he felt the same way about her, and the only way that could happen was if she stepped back.
Standing on tiptoe, Laura planted a soft kiss on Jason's lips. 'Good luck.'
'I'll need it.' The last glimpse of his face as the door closed showed an expression as grim as his tone.
But it wasn't Jason who needed the luck, it was Laura. And she had a horrible feeling that she had used up more than her fair share already in the last month. The fairy dust had well and truly worn off.
FOR once, the baby's whimper at 5 a.m. came as a relief.
Jason rolled from his bed, tightened the frayed cord supporting his pyjama pants and reached into the nearby bassinet. At the touch of his hands, Megan fell silent. As Jason picked up his daughter, she smiled at him.
'I don't think you're that hungry, are you?'
Knowing that Shelley was in the house made Jason reluctant to leave his room. He had transferred the bassinet in here last night, and closing the door firmly had given him a sense of safety. His own space to consider developments in the company of the things that had become most important to him.
Shelley had simply shrugged when he said he'd keep Megan in his room. 'I guess you know where all the nappies and bottles are,' she'd said. 'We'll sort all that out tomorrow.'
She might have raised an objection if she'd seen Oscar slipping through the gap before the door closed, but the dog was now part of the family as far as Jason was concerned, and his family needed protection. Laura should have been here as well. Jason eyed the empty bed and scowled.
How could she have packed a bag and deserted him at a time of crisis like this? Maybe he'd been wrong to feel he could trust her with his life. Maybe she wasn't as strong as he'd thought. The going had got tough and Laura had got going in the direction of the nearest available exit.
With a deep sigh, Jason climbed back into his bed with Megan still in his arms. He pushed Oscar with his foot to make some more space.
'You won't get away with sleeping there when Laura comes home again, mate.'
Except she had gone home, hadn't she? This wasn't her home. She'd only been here because of Megan, and now Megan's mother had returned to lay claim to her baby. No wonder Laura had left. Jason closed his eyes on a wave of misery. He'd been wrong in thinking that Megan might be the ace up his sleeve in his determination to keep Laura in his life on a permanent basis. Perhaps she was the only real draw card and if he lost his daughter then he would lose Laura as well. What did he have to offer apart from his daughter, anyway?
A reputation as a shallow Casanova, that was what. With an excellent specimen of the kind of woman that had populated his past right here in his house at present. He had a career with awkward shift hours that could put pressure on a long-term relationship and a house that he would have trouble affording the whole rent on if he had to support a family. Laura seemed to like the sex but the kind of passion they had been sharing for the last couple of weeks couldn't last, could it? Jason knew from repeated personal experience that good sex wasn't nearly enough.
'You've got soggy pants,' he told Megan. He poked her tummy gently. 'Do you want some clean ones?'
Megan reached out and caught his forefinger with her hand, still so tiny that his finger looked ridiculously huge. Jason felt his eyes prickle as he watched the little starfish hand curl into a miniature fist with his finger locked firmly in its centre. Dammit---he'd had no sleep and too much to think about and his physical and mental exhaustion was turning him into a girl.
'Not that there's anything wrong with being a girl,' he said aloud, apologetically. Megan beamed up at him and Jason groaned inwardly.
'You're not making this any easier, you know.' With another sigh, Jason gave in and smiled back.
'The way I see it, Peanut,' he continued softly, 'I haven't got a chance of getting what I really want out of all this. If I get to keep you, I get your mum in the picture as well, and that's not going to make Laura very happy. If I don't get to keep you then I probably won't get to keep Laura either. And...' Jason's voice dropped to a whisper. 'I really like Laura, you know? She's warm and funny and kind and very, very clever and...'
Jason's gaze drifted to the empty side of his bed. Megan's ears were way too young to hear about how he could never get tired of Laura's soft, delicious body and the way it responded to his. He'd never go for a skinny chick again. No way.
Hell, he didn't want to have to even think about going for anyone else.
He wanted Laura. So much that it hurt. Another smile from Megan twisted the knife in his gut. He also loved this tiny person he was holding. A very different kind of love but just as strong in its own way. Or was it so very different? He got the same feeling of responsibility for their health and happiness, the same fierce desire to protect them. Even the disreputable canine currently sprawled over his feet elicited an echo of that feeling. They had all become a family and Jason was learning the hard way that a family was a valuable asset rather than the liability he'd always feared.
A squeak from Megan interrupted the spiral of thoughts Jason had spent the night revisiting.
'You do need breakfast, don't you?' Jason eased his foot out from under Oscar's rump. 'And clean pants.' Pins and needles assaulted his foot as it made contact with the floor. 'Come on, then, guys.'
It was still dark but the dawn chorus of birdsong could be heard starting up. Jason flicked on a lamp and moved quietly in the dim light as he prepared a bottle, the weight of the baby on one arm a now familiar and easy burden to cope with. It was a little harder to test the temperature of the milk one-handed so Jason waited until he was settled onto one end of the couch.
'Sh...sh...sh,' he soothed Megan, whose cries rose demandingly when she caught sight of the bottle as he sprinkled milk on his wrist. 'OK, it's just right. Here you go, sweetheart.'
Megan sucked hungrily, making a contented grunting sound at the same time. Jason watched, letting himself relax for the first time in hours and simply enjoying the moment instead of agonising over the complications his life now contained. Things would sort themselves out somehow.
They had to.
Oscar raised his head from Jason's foot a minute or two later, floppy black ears pricked forward and the faint rumble of a growl coming from deep within the shaggy chest. Glancing up, Jason felt a rush of adrenalin tightening his muscles and wiping out any sense of relaxation.
'Hi.' Shelley was wearing a tiny singlet top with shoestring straps that left her belly and half her breasts exposed. The silk boxer shorts that sat low on her hips did nothing to conceal long, tanned legs. 'Can I help?'
'We're fine, thanks.' Jason had to clear his throat. There was no denying that Shelley was an extremely attractive young woman. It was all too easy to remember exactly what had led to their fateful night together. It had probably been all too easy for Laura to understand as well, Jason realised. He could only hope that Laura didn't think he was still attracted, at least on anything more than an 'enjoying the eye candy' basis.
'It's very early.' Jason turned his gaze back to the infant he was holding. 'Why don't you go back to bed for a while?'
Shelley said nothing and Jason felt the air in the room stir as she moved towards him. With fluid grace, she sat down and then curled her legs up beneath her on the other side of the couch. He looked up to see her head tilted provocatively to one side.
'I will if you come with me.'
Jason swallowed hard. He could think of a great many men who would kill to be in his position right now, but it was totally wasted on him. He shouldn't have offered Shelley a place to stay, but then he'd thought at the time that Laura would be here as well. He'd only offered because he hadn't wanted to antagonise Shelley. They had things to sort out and Jason wanted that sorting out to be to his advantage. Their advantage. His and Laura's.
Thanks to Laura's defection, he was now going to have to avoid antagonising Shelley on a much more delicate issue. What was to stop her taking Megan and simply disappearing? Jason could imagine with how little urgency any authorities would view tracking down a child he hadn't known even existed until a month ago and who was now back with its birth mother. Jason's hold on Megan tightened imperceptibly. He was going to have to make sure that he kept both Megan and Shelley in sight at all times, so it probably was a good thing that she'd wanted to stay.
'Well?' Shelley ran the tip of her tongue across her upper lip. 'What do you say, Jason? For old times' sake, maybe?'
'I don't think that would be a good idea, Shelley.' It was hard to believe he was looking at the same woman who had been overwhelmed by grief for her twin sister only hours ago. There was no hint of any lingering distress now.
'I do.' Shelley uncurled her legs and suddenly she was kneeling beside him on the couch. She pushed her fingers into his tousled hair and her lips tickled his ear as she spoke very softly. 'I think it would be a lovely idea.'
The touch of her tongue in his ear was too much. Jason stood up. 'Megan's finished her milk,' he said hurriedly. 'She needs burping.'
Shelley sprawled on the couch, gazing up at him. The faint narrowing of her eyes faded and she smiled. 'You want me, Jason. You know you do.'
Jason shook his head. 'I'm in a relationship now,' he told her. 'One that means a lot. I'm not going to cheat on Laura.'
The snort from Shelley was contemptuous. 'What's she got that I couldn't give you, Jason?' She sat up. 'More importantly, what have I got to give you that she hasn't?'
Jason said nothing. He rubbed Megan's back and felt like he was soothing himself as well as the baby. The burp she produced would have made Stick proud, and Jason smiled lopsidedly as he saw Shelley roll her lovely blue eyes with disgust. So much for all her protestations in front of Laura about how much she loved and had missed Megan.
'You're not really into babies, are you, Shelley?'
'She was an unexpected little gift,' Shelley said smoothly. 'But I love her far too much to part with her now.'
'Why did you decide to go through with the pregnancy?' Jason asked bluntly.
Shelley licked her lips but it was a far from sensual action. It looked more like nervousness. 'I...um...I didn't realise until it was too late.'
'So you didn't want a baby, then.'
'Of course not. I'm only twenty, Jason. I've got my whole life ahead of me.'
'Of course you have.' Jason was quite happy to sound sympathetic again. 'It's far too young to be tied into parenthood.'
Shelley nodded. 'It's not that I don't love Megan,' she added.
'She's a lovable baby all right,' Jason agreed.
'So you want to keep her?'
'Yes.' A simple word. Why did it have the effect of making Jason's heart skip and a prickle of perspiration break out down the length of his spine?
'You can keep her,' Shelley said softly. 'She can be yours, Jason.'
'In return for?'
'Marrying me.'
'What?' Jason stared at Shelley. 'Are you crazy?'
'No.' Shelley shook her hair back from her face and her expression hardened. 'Look, you don't have to sleep with me if you don't want to. Though I'm sure that's only a matter of time.' Her gaze flicked up and down the length of Jason's body. 'I've no objections.'
Jason wished he was wearing more than his pyjama bottoms. He also vowed never to look at a woman again in a way that could be construed as sizing up their potential performance in bed. It didn't feel like he was being appreciated. It was downright degrading, but he managed to keep the 'in your dreams' comment silent.
'You'll have to live with me, though,' Shelley said calmly. 'And make it look like more than a marriage in name only. And it'll have to last long enough for me to get my permanent resident's status. That will take a year or so after you agree to sponsor me and make an application to the immigration department.'
'You've got it all worked out, haven't you?'
'I know what I want.' Shelley stood up and walked towards the door. 'And I intend to get it. I'm sure that fat girlfriend of yours will understand. She can live with us too, if she wants. We could use a nanny.'
She turned as she reached the door. 'The alternative is that I take Megan back to England and you never see either of us ever again. I might have her adopted, and it will probably be at least twenty years before you manage to track her down. Your choice, Jason. Have a think about it. I'm going back to bed.'
'I don't know what to do.'
'How about drinking that coffee before it's stone cold?'
'I mean, I'd love to just kick her out, but she says that if she goes then Megan goes with her.' Jason picked up his coffee mug but then put it down without drinking from it. 'She doesn't give a damn about Megan. OK, she might have got up at five a.m. yesterday but helping to feed a baby wasn't what she had in mind.'
'Oh?' Laura felt the cold, hard knot in her stomach grow a little heavier. 'Did she try and seduce you, Jase?'
Jason shook his head but it was a movement of disgust rather than denial. 'She's making a big mistake if she thinks she can use sex to get what she wants.'
Laura stared into the remaining liquid at the bottom of her own coffee mug. Shelley was probably very successful in using sex to get exactly what she wanted. Just how far had the attempted seduction gone? Laura felt sick. It wasn't as if she had any real claim on Jason. She was an aberration in his normal lifestyle as far as women were concerned, and she had won her place purely because of Megan's presence. How long would it take for Jason to revert to type with that kind of temptation laid out on a plate?
'What are you going to do, Jase?'
'I don't know,' Jason said miserably. 'It's really doing my head in.' He glanced at the baby sleeping peacefully in the car seat beside his chair, then his gaze took in the rest of the kitchen and the small adjoining living area. 'This is a really nice little house, Laura. Could Megan and I stay here with you for a few days, maybe?'
'What would that solve?'
'It would get me away from Shelley. Give me some time to think of what to do. She's so bloody determined to get what she wants and I can't talk any sense into her.'
What Shelley wanted was Jason. And Jason clearly wasn't prepared to risk losing his child if he could find a way to keep her.
'Have you spoken to a solicitor? Asked about trying to get custody?'
'No.' Jason pushed his fingers through his hair in a frustrated gesture that created spikes in the blond-streaked waves. 'That would antagonise her right now. I've made it bad enough by saying I'm not prepared to marry her.'
'She wants you to marry her? Just like that?'
Jason nodded unhappily. 'She's been quite upfront about it. She wants to live in New Zealand and marriage is the easiest ticket to permanent residency. She says if I don't marry her she'll go back to England and I'll never see Megan again. She's threatened to have her adopted so I can't even trace where she is. I don't know what the adoption laws in England are like but I'm not going to find out by letting that happen.'
Laura could feel the tension in her jaw as she unconsciously gritted her teeth. Shelley was some kind of monster. How could anyone play with a child's life like that? And this wasn't just any baby. This was Megan they were talking about.
Jason caught Laura's gaze. 'She also says it doesn't have to be a real marriage. As long as we live together and make it look real. She's even got that planned out. She reckons that big old house on the corner of the street would be cheap and I could do it up on my days off. Then we could sell it for a great profit, get divorced and everyone would be happy.'
Laura held his gaze long enough to let him know just how happy such a plan would make her. Jason's smile was grim.
'She even said she doesn't mind if you live with us.'
Laura snorted. 'What as, the nanny?'
His embarrassment was a dead give-away. The fact that Jason was even considering Shelley's proposition enough to repeat it let Laura know how right she had been in thinking she didn't have a hope of winning this competition. She only had a small window of hope that she might be a lot more than a nanny as far as Jason was concerned. With her heart beating a tattoo, Laura tried to find a reason to hang onto that hope.
'Keeping Megan is what matters most, isn't it?' Please, Laura thought desperately. Tell me that I'm just as important. That it wouldn't be the complete end of the world if you didn't get to keep your daughter.
'I don't think I could live with myself if I let Shelley take her. What if she just abandoned her again? Left her on the doorstep of some orphanage or something?'
Or, worse, kept her in a home where she was unloved and unwanted. Laura could feel the sharp need to take responsibility herself, and Megan wasn't even her own child. She had to admire Jason for the depth of his caring, and she knew that what he said was right...but it wasn't exactly reassuring her of any priority she herself might have in his life.
Jason seemed to take her silence as support. 'You understand how I feel about this, don't you, Laura? I mean, you love her too, don't you?'
'You know I do, Jase.'
'And we love each other.' The smile was a pale shadow of the usual winning variety but the clasp of Jason's hand was warm and strong. 'I do love you, Laura.'
'I love you, too,' she whispered.
'And I need you.' The squeeze on her hand was gently persuasive. 'So does Megan. You, me and Megan. We could be a real family...for ever.' Jason was still smiling. 'So how 'bout it, babe? Would you marry me?'
It wasn't really a proposal, was it? Jason was just testing a possible scenario, wasn't he? His next words vaporised any thrill that Laura hadn't been able to suppress.
'I mean, if we were married, we'd have a great case for going for permanent custody of Megan.' Jason looked around again. 'And this is such a great house. You own it, don't you?'
'Yes.' Laura swallowed hard. She had a lot going for her, didn't she? 'I'm sharing it with Charlie at the moment, though.'
'Your best friend, right? The serious crash investigator?'
Laura pulled her hand away from Jason's. It hadn't been difficult to distract Jason from any thoughts of proposing marriage, had it? Laura couldn't bear trying to analyse why that might be the case. Changing the subject was probably a wise move.
'Did you hear about the mass casualty incident up north yesterday?' Her voice sounded oddly high pitched so Laura cleared her throat and tried again. 'The train v. bus?'
'It was all over the news. Wish I'd been there. Once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, working on a job that big.'
'Huge,' Laura agreed. 'Charlie and her partner got sent up to help.'
'So she's away?' Jason looked hopeful. 'You do have room for a visitor or two, then?'
'She's back tonight. And you can't just run away from this, Jason. It's got to be sorted. Where is Shelley now?'
'I dropped her off in town.' Jason shook his head. 'She didn't get up until eleven and she didn't bother even holding Megan before telling me she needed to go and meet her brother off the bus from Dunedin. They're planning to check the availability of flights back to the UK. Apparently neither of them have enough money to stay much longer.'
'She's putting the pressure on, then, isn't she?'
'You're not kidding.' Jason checked his watch. 'I'd better head off. With a bit of luck I'll get some time to myself and a chance to try and get my head straight. My guess is that this brother of Shelley's will be wanting a place to stay tonight as well. I'm going to have to try and talk sense into both of them so I need to figure out how I'm going to do it.'
'Good luck.'
'Are you sure you won't come and stay? Help me convince them?'
Laura shook her head sadly. 'It would only make things more difficult, Jase. Shelley's after you, despite pretending she'd be happy with a "name only" marriage. If I'm around, she's only going to be more determined to get exactly what she wants.'
Laura had to hold back tears as Jason kissed her goodbye. The kiss was tender but it eased the look of frustration and misery on Jason's features only momentarily.
'I miss having you around,' he said sadly. 'So does Megan.'
Laura looked away. She wanted so much to hold him, to tell him that she loved him and would be there for him no matter what, but she knew what was holding her back. She was desperate for any clue that what they had together was precious for its own sake and not just because it bonded them into a set of parents for Megan.
'Are you managing OK...with Megan?'
'Oh, sure.' Jason's smile was as tender as his kiss had been. 'You've taught me a lot, Laura.'
The tears were much harder to control now. Impossible, in fact. Laura held the door open and her voice was muffled.
'Are you coming into work tomorrow?'
'Of course. I'm going to need a day away from my unwelcome visitors.' Jason managed a lopsided grin. 'Besides, Mackie would have my guts for garters if she missed out on a day with Peanut.'
Jean McKendry wasn't thrilled with the offer of help to care for Megan the next day.
'What does she think she's doing? She made a right pig's ear of changing the bairn's nappy.'
'I guess she's out of practice.'
'She's never been in practice, if you ask me.' The sniff was scathing. 'Why doesn't she just go back where she came from?'
Laura turned to look at Shelley, sitting in the far corner of the commonroom, flicking the pages of a magazine. She smiled as she caught an audible muttering from Mrs Mack concerning the desirable location of a great many Sassenachs.
'The problem is that she wants to take Megan back with her.' Laura kept her voice as low as the whole conversation had been. 'And Jason isn't prepared to let her.'
'I should think not,' Jean hissed. 'She's no fit mother for the likes of our wee bairn.'
Shelley must have been able to feel the heat of the glare she was receiving. She sent back an 'oh, whatever!' expression and returned to her magazine with an audible and very bored sigh.
'She'll get sick of sitting around here, pretending to be interested in being a mother.'
'I hope so,' Laura murmured. The novelty of having Shelley on station might wear off for the rest of Green Watch as well. Despite even more obvious support for Jason and Laura than Maxine's visit had inspired, there was no getting away from the fact that the men found Shelley astonishingly attractive.
Stick had been seen to poke Jason hard in the ribs as they'd left for their first callout that morning. 'Didn't you say she had an identical twin sister? Bring it on, mate!'
'You don't want to go there,' Jason responded.
'Are you kidding?'
'She's dead, mate.' Jason's voice had faded as the door swung shut. 'But you're welcome to the one that's left. She's dead keen on finding a New Zealand husband. Be my guest.'
Jean McKendry's attitude took a turn for the worse that afternoon. Waves of righteous indignation met both Jason and Laura when they arrived back from separate jobs at almost the same time.
'She just left her lying on the couch and walked off.'
'Where did she go?'
'Last I saw was her getting on a bus at the stop across the road. That's when I went to check on Megan and found the puir lassie just lying on the couch.'
Jason looked worried. 'Thank goodness she didn't take Megan with her. We're going to have to keep a closer eye on her when she comes back.'
'I hope she's no' coming back at all,' Jean snapped. 'That bairn could have rolled off that couch and done herself a right mischief.'
But Shelley did come back. Laura groaned inwardly when she arrived along with Jason, Megan and Oscar again early the following morning. Jason looked tired and his grim expression deepened as the day got busier for his crew. Shelley looked sullen but determined, and totally ignored both Laura and Jean, who were not about to leave her alone with Megan.
Thankfully, she also ignored the baby and, other than disappearing for several hours in the middle of the day, spent her time watching television and reading magazines.
Laura and Tim had an unusually quiet day. The call that came in at four p.m. was only the third one for the shift. An hour later, they had treated a child's asthma attack, transported the young girl to hospital and were returning to the station, planning to give the ambulance a wash down and check equipment stores.
The sight of Mrs McKendry standing at the door of the garage and practically wringing her hands sent a chill snaking down Laura's spine.
'What's wrong? It's not Megan, is it?' The difficulty with which Jean was struggling to find words was unusual enough to hit panic buttons. 'What's happened? Is she---is she all right?'
'We don't know. She's...she's gone!'
'Gone where?' Laura's tone sounded curiously blank. Her brain felt foggy, the thought processes slowing enough to make her feel stupid.
'We don't know,' Jean repeated. 'She's just...gone. That woman has taken her.' A stifled sob broke through. 'It's all my fault but I had to go and see about the water, didn't I?'
'Where's Jason?'
'They arrived back just a few minutes after I found she'd gone. They've taken the fire engine and the whole crew has gone looking for her. She wouldn't have got far on foot. But...but Jason doesn't know about that man yet.'
'What man?'
'The one that left the puir wee bairn on the doorstep in the first place.'
Jason learned about the man soon enough, and Laura heard enough to piece the whole sorry story together as she sat on station in the company of two fire and ambulance crews at shift changeover time.
'It has to be her brother.'
'It was no brother that I saw that morning. No' the way they were kissing each other.'
'Why didn't you tell us that in the first place, Mackie?'
'Because you wouldn't have taken your wee girl home with you. That Shelley creature is no' fit to be a mother.'
'That was part of the reason I refused to leave Megan at home.' Jason nodded. 'She doesn't know much about babies and she cares even less.' He groaned. 'I had a suspicion she might try and pull a stunt like this. We had an argument last night when her brother was backing her up and trying to intimidate me. They both went oddly quiet when I said we'd have to see what the courts had to say about custody.'
'It's my fault it happened.' If Mrs Mack had been wearing an apron, it would have surprised no one if she'd thrown it over her head.
'You were set up, Mackie. She must have plugged that basin and turned the taps on as soon as she saw Tim and Laura get called out. She had to know you'd go and see what was causing the flood. She was just waiting here long enough for us all to be out at the same time.'
'What are we going to do?' Laura said quietly.
'We didn't see any sign of them on the streets,' Stick said unhappily.
'What did your mate in the police force reckon, Jase?' asked Bruce. 'You did ring him, didn't you?'
Jason nodded wearily. 'He said that it would not be considered kidnapping and if there's no evidence that she's planning to harm the baby then there's absolutely nothing they can do.'
'She's not going to leave town in a hurry.' Stick gave Jason's shoulder a comforting squeeze. 'Let's face it, mate. It's you she wants, not the kid.'
'But she can't look after her. She only took her bottle and her blanket. She doesn't even have any clean nappies.'
'She's a woman,' Cliff said somewhat acidly. 'She'll find the shops.'
'She must have looked after her for the first month of her life,' someone from Red Watch added. 'So she must have some idea what she's doing.'
'Ha!' Both Jason and Mrs Mack made identical sounds of contempt.
'She must be staying somewhere.' Laura stood up. 'Let's get the phone book and start ringing motels.'
'And backpackers' hostels,' Jason said. 'Camping grounds, even. You're right, Laura. They're not going to be sleeping on the streets with a baby, even if they don't have much money. We'll find them.'
But they couldn't. They spent hour after hour on the phone until it was so late the responses from motel managers became abusive and Laura finally agreed to go home and get some sleep.
'You've got work starting at seven a.m.'
'So do you.'
'I'll see if I can get someone to cover for me. I need to be around in case Shelley decides to make contact.'
The next day dragged more than any Laura had known. Interest in her patients was at an all-time low and she was very thankful that Tim was prepared to pick up the slack. Between calls, she rang Jason, hoping for news. She found him on station that afternoon, looking bleak.
'I'm not getting anywhere,' he told her wearily. 'Most managers quite rightly refuse to give out any information on their clients.'
'Then let's go and talk to them in person. Even if they won't tell us anything, we can keep our eyes open and even snoop around a bit. We should make a list of all the less expensive places and visit them tomorrow. I'll help as soon as my shift finishes. Are you going home again now?'
'No, I think I'll stay here tonight. She left Megan here the last time she wanted to make a point.'
'She might go back to the house.'
'She didn't last night. I'll go home to get some clothes in the morning and check to see if she's left any kind of message.'
The only message Shelley left was a broken window. Baby equipment and other items were missing but Jason couldn't see any point in reporting the burglary to the police. There was no proof that it had been Shelley and they would be wasting valuable searching time by trying to persuade the authorities to become involved.
Jason and Laura spent the whole of the day visiting the motels in person, trying to persuade people how important it was that they find Megan.
'She's got a medical condition,' Laura invented desperately in the end. 'And her mother hasn't got the medication she needs.'
'Try the police, then. It's none of our business. How do we know you've got any right to be tracking her down, anyway?'
'We could hire a private detective,' Laura suggested late that afternoon. 'They might be better at this than we are.'
'What could they do that we're not doing?'
'I don't know. They might have contacts to track things like credit-card use.'
'She won't need a card for a while,' Jason said. 'She cleaned out my wallet when she broke into the house and I had the rent money for a month in there.'
'She'll be in touch.' Laura was trying to reassure herself as much as Jason. 'As Stick pointed out, it's you she wants. She's just trying to show you that she's capable of taking Megan away. She's betting that you'll be missing her enough to agree to anything to get her back.'
'I am missing her. Crazy, isn't it?' Jason pulled Laura into his arms and held her tightly. 'I know you're worried about her just as much as I am but don't worry. We'll get her back...somehow.'
'Are you coming into work tonight?'
'May as well,' Jason said grimly. 'We're not getting anywhere like this so we're going to have to wait for her to contact us. Waiting for that will be a lot easier at work than sitting at home by myself.'
It was a busy night for both the fire and ambulance crews. Laura hardly saw Jason and when they were diverted from returning to station after a job that finished at 6 a.m. she groaned aloud.
'No sleep all night and now a job that will probably make us late and I really wanted to see Jason.'
'Must be tough for you guys at the moment,' Tim said sympathetically. 'Have you got the details for this priority-one through on your pager yet?'
'No. I don't even know what suburb we're supposed to be heading for.' Laura picked up the radio handpiece. 'Inglewood 950 to Control.'
'Must be busy.' Tim noted the length of time taken to respond. 'We'll just keep cruising for a minute.'
'Towards the station,' Laura suggested with a smile. 'That way, if we're too far away from the action they'll have to send someone else.'
'Yeah.' Tim returned the smile but it faded quickly. 'This business with Megan isn't great for you, is it?'
'You could say that.'
'It's funny, but I never thought Jason would be so cut up. He gave the impression that the sooner the mum came back to collect, the better.'
'Things changed,' Laura sighed. 'He fell in love with his baby.'
'And with you?' Tim suggested softly.
'With the whole package,' Laura corrected. 'He doesn't want to lose the family he was given.'
'I can understand that,' Tim said. 'And I can under---'
Whatever else Tim understood was never made clear. The radio crackled into life abruptly.
'Inglewood 950. Priority-one callout. Standby for house fire. Code 61 in attendance.'
Code 61 was the fire service. Maybe Laura would get to see Jason after all. She pushed the button on the side of her microphone.
'Roger. What address?'
Tim had the beacons going. He caught Laura's eye, waiting for the street name. There was no point in picking up speed until they knew they were heading in the right direction.
'Crighton Terrace.' The dispatch officer's tone was perfectly calm. 'No number given.'
Tim's gaze was still on Laura and his eyes widened to reflect her own alarm. He hit the siren and pushed his foot down hard on the accelerator.
Crighton Terrace.
Jason's street. Had Shelley decided to make even more of a point than simply breaking into Jason's house? Was it burning to the ground right now?
And where in God's name was Megan?
JASON'S house was not on fire.
Laura let out a sigh of relief as they turned into Crighton Terrace. The two fire appliances, beacons lighting up the overcast grey of the dawn sky, were parked at the end of the street beside the old deserted house.
'Probably arson,' she decided aloud. 'No one's lived in that place for months, which would make it a tempting target.'
'Can't see any flames.' Tim sounded vaguely disappointed as he parked well clear of the activity surrounding the fire trucks. 'Bit of smoke, though.'
They skirted a pair of firemen from another station who were unrolling and coupling long lengths of hose. Bruce was standing beside the control panel of the Inglewood appliance. Laura couldn't see Jason anywhere and assumed he must be on the other end of the hose leading through the open front door of the house.
'Anyone injured?' Tim queried.
'Not yet.' Bruce waved towards where their ambulance was parked, its back doors open and the empty stretchers visible. 'Take a pew and put your feet up for a while.'
'Anyone inside the house?'
'Not that we know of. Jase tells us it's been empty for a while. Early morning jogger saw the smoke coming out from under the eaves as he ran past.'
'Can we get a bit closer?' Tim enjoyed watching a different service at work.
'Sure. Just watch you don't trip over any hoses. Or firemen.'
Laura was staring at the house that had become a familiar landmark during her walks with Jason and Megan. She could see fingers of flame reaching out through the smoke billowing out from under the eaves. Only one corner of the house seemed to be involved at present, on both storeys. Her gaze tracked along the side of the house as she wondered where Jason might be.
'Who's upstairs?'
'What?' Bruce had to shout over the sounds of the pump and other fire officers being deployed nearby from the second appliance.
'I saw someone.' Laura pointed. 'At that window.'
'What?' Bruce jerked his gaze away from the panel of instruments. 'Are you sure?'
'Yes. Look!' The shape appeared again, a shadowy outline due to the drifts of smoke.
'We haven't got anyone upstairs. The staircase is dodgy.' Bruce was reaching for his radio. 'Jase? Can you hear me?'
A crackling sound came back. 'Affirmative.'
'Looks like there's someone upstairs.'
A swear word came back this time. 'Roger. Send in a ladder. We'll get in at---'
But Laura didn't wait to hear what was planned for the ladder. She had been focussing on another window at the far corner of the house from the flames. She had seen the person again and this time a puff of wind had cleared the drift of smoke for a fraction of a second. Just long enough to recognise the face of the woman. A face framed by long, blonde hair.
'Oh my God!' Laura started running.
'Laura!'
The shout from one of the firemen she raced past as they came out of the house sounded like Jason's voice. A heavily gloved hand caught briefly at her arm but Laura was going fast enough to pull away easily.
'Shelley's in there,' she shouted back over her shoulder. 'Megan must be here as well.'
The heat inside the house hit her solidly as she ran through the front door but, surprisingly, the smoke didn't seem too bad. Enough to make her eyes sting and force her to hunch her shoulders and keep her head lowered, but she couldn't see any flames and she knew that the area of the house she had seen Shelley in was as far as it could be from the worst of the fire. If she could just get up the stairs she would be able to find them faster than anybody else because she knew where they were.
She also knew she shouldn't be doing this. She could hear the shouts of the firemen trying to catch up with her. They would pull her clear if they succeeded. Number-one rule for rescuers---do not put yourself in danger. A rule for anyone at a house fire was to get out and stay out. But there was no time to think about anything other than a gut reaction. Laura was running purely on instinct and adrenalin.
This was Megan whose life was in danger.
Laura took the stairs two at a time, her eyes now streaming and a painful cough grabbing at her lungs. She heard even louder shouts from the firemen behind her and then she heard something far worse. The crack and rumble of timbers falling as the staircase she had just climbed collapsed.
There was no turning back now and Laura knew she only had a matter of seconds to find what she was looking for. The smoke upstairs was thick. And black. She dropped to her knees to find the only clear patch of air and crawled in a frantic rush towards what she desperately hoped was the room in which she had seen Shelley. God help her if she'd got it wrong!
Everything became a blur. She found the room. Shelley pushed past her at a one-legged crawl, her other leg trailing uselessly behind her. She shouted something at Laura but the words were made incomprehensible by racking coughs. And Laura wasn't listening anyway because it was too hard to think of more than one thing at a time and she could see the small, still shape on the floor beside the window.
It had to be Megan.
The shattering of the window glass was followed by a more ominous sound of something exploding into flames nearby. Laura couldn't breathe any more. Couldn't think. But she didn't need to. Rough, gloved hands were pulling at her, picking her up with Megan still clutched to her. And then she was in Jason's arms.
'Put one arm around my neck. Wrap your legs around my waist and hold on tight!'
If Laura hadn't been so close to losing consciousness or so afraid of whether Megan was still alive or not, she might have been terrified of being carried down the long extension ladder, clinging to the front of Jason's body like a monkey, with Megan wedged securely between them.
Tim came into focus a short time later.
'You bloody idiot,' he told Laura.
She pulled the oxygen mask from her face. 'Wh-where's Megan?' she croaked.
'Right here.'
Laura struggled to sit up. Tim was bent over the second stretcher, with his stethoscope on a tiny chest. Megan's face was covered by the paediatric oxygen mask that was miles too big for her.
'Is...is she...?'
Tim glanced at Laura, then smiled as he lifted the mask from the baby's face for a second. The sound of her crying became separated from the cacophony of shouting, sirens and equipment running outside the ambulance, and Laura laughed and sobbed and coughed all at the same time until Tim gently pushed her back down and firmly tightened the elastic string on her oxygen mask. Laura closed her eyes but not before she caught a glimpse of more ambulance officers rushing past the back doors with another figure on a stretcher.
And then Jason was there. Still in his full protective uniform, he seemed far too large to be standing in the back of an ambulance. His breathing apparatus tank was still on his back, the mask dangling beneath his chin. He ripped off his heavy gloves and his helmet and dropped them onto the floor. Then he reached for Laura's hands.
'You bloody idiot,' he told her. Laura could see tears in his eyes as a wobbly smile appeared. 'Don't you ever do that to me again.'
Laura couldn't speak. It was painful to breathe anyway and the look on Jason's face was enough to make her think she was precious in her own right. He loved her...there could be no doubt about that. But was it a love that was separate from how he felt about his daughter? Did Jason even know that Megan was all right? Still unable to produce any words, Laura pulled one hand from Jason's grip and pointed to the other stretcher, her lips curving into a smile just as wobbly as Jason's had been.
Jason turned to look at his daughter. The tears that had brightened his eyes overflowed now and built into a trickle that carved a pathway through the grime on his face.
'Thank God,' he whispered. 'I thought that was just too much to hope for.'
Had it mattered even more than her well being? 'Sh---' Laura coughed hard and drew in a ragged breath of oxygen. She pulled the mask from her face and tried again. 'Shelley?' she managed to croak.
'Alive,' Jason told her. 'But injured. We got her out just in time. Couldn't do anything to save her brother, or whoever he was, though.'
Whoever he was became clear much later that day.
Laura and Jason found themselves sitting that evening, side by side, on chairs pulled up to a bed in a side room on the orthopaedic ward of Wellington's General Hospital. The woman lying on the bed had her plastered lower leg supported on pillows. Her arms and hands were heavily bandaged and her face was red with areas of peeling skin. With her eyelashes and eyebrows singed to virtual baldness, Shelley Bates looked nothing like the attractive female that had walked into their lives only days before.
The sobbing that had accompanied her confession was only now diminishing, and Laura held tightly onto Jason's hand, unable to swallow the lump in her own throat on witnessing the very real grief on display.
Jason squeezed her hand but his gaze was fixed on Shelley. 'So...if you loved Darryn that much, why were you prepared to marry me?'
'It was Darryn's idea,' Shelley said. 'His best mate---the one in Dunedin---has been living in New Zealand ever since his parents emigrated. Darryn's been wanting to emigrate for years. It was...it was his dream.'
Shelley's voice still sounded hoarse from the damage of smoke inhalation and she coughed at frequent intervals. Laura could sympathise with that discomfort. She also knew that Shelley was far worse off than she was due to the injuries she had received in trying to find and rescue her boyfriend from the fire.
Shelley blew her nose, holding tissues awkwardly between her bandaged hands. 'Is Megan all right?'
'She's fine.' Jason nodded. 'They're keeping her in overnight just to make sure her breathing's not affected.'
'I tried to save her but I couldn't stand up long enough to open the window. I broke my ankle when I fell trying to drag Darryn...and then I had to go back for him...'
'She's fine,' Laura said reassuringly. 'You did well, Shelley.'
'No...' Shelley shook her head miserably.
'Yes, you did. If she hadn't been right beside that window it would have been impossible for me to carry her. And putting her on the floor was the best place with all the---'
'No.' Shelley shook her head more vigorously. 'I meant, I'm not Shelley. I'm Sharon.'
'But...' Jason was staring at her blankly. 'The birth certificate says that Shelley is Megan's mother.'
'She is.' The woman in the bed closed her eyes and there was a long silence.
'I don't understand what's going on here,' Jason said finally.
Neither did Laura. 'Are you OK, Shell---Sharon? Do you want me to find a nurse? Do you need to sleep for a while?'
'No.' With a weary sigh she opened her eyes. 'There's no point keeping this up any longer. Not without Darryn.' Tears began to flow again. 'There's no point at all any more.'
'Can you tell us, then?' Jason asked gently. 'Why you've been pretending to be your twin sister?'
'Because Shell always had everything.' Even through her exhaustion and pain, Sharon sounded bitter. 'She was the pretty twin. The clever one. She always got everything she wanted. I was just her shadow. The booby prize.'
'Where is she now?'
'She's dead, like I told you. Except that the blood clot wasn't caused by her being on the Pill. She had to have a Caesarean to have Megan and something went wrong. She did live for a few weeks and she asked me to find you and make sure Megan was going to be all right. She knew I'd never want to bring up her baby and...and that was when Darryn got the idea.'
'Of you marrying me?'
Sharon nodded. 'Shelley said you'd only have to spend some time with Megan to love her and she said you were too nice to abandon your kid after that. I was going to get my permanent residence, divorce you and then find a way to marry Darryn.'
'But that would have taken years.' Laura shook her head.
'That didn't matter. It was Darryn's dream and he's the only person that ever loved me just for myself and not because they couldn't have Shelley.'
Laura felt her level of sympathy rise a few notches. She knew what it was like to want to be loved just for yourself. The plan could have worked, too. Jason would do anything for his daughter now. He probably wouldn't hesitate to marry Laura to give her a mother. In fact, Laura was surprised he hadn't proposed already at some point during the incredibly long day they'd had so far.
'So what now?' Jason asked quietly. 'What do you want us to do, Sharon?'
'I want to go home. As soon as they'll let me. I never wanted to come here at all, really.'
'And Megan?'
'She's your daughter.' Sharon turned her face away. 'That's up to you.'
'We'll do what we can to help you get back to England quickly,' Jason promised her. 'Will you help us sort all the official stuff that will be needed to make sure Megan's allowed to stay with me?'
'Sure.' Sharon's eyes closed again. 'I need to sleep now. Come back tomorrow.'
Hand in hand, Jason and Laura walked through the quiet hospital corridors on their way back to the paediatric ward to see Megan again.
'She's going to be mine,' Jason said in wonder. 'Really mine.'
'I'm so happy for you, Jase.' It was hard to sound really happy, though, when part of her heart was breaking.
Jason must have caught something in her tone. 'But it means that everything is going to be OK.' Jason pulled Laura to a halt and turned her to face him. 'For all of us.' His face lit up as he caught hold of her other hand in his. 'Will you marry me, Laura?' His smile widened. 'And be Megan's real mother?'
For a long moment, Laura looked up at Jason, taking in every beloved feature. Then she let her breath out in a soft sigh.
'No,' she said softly. 'I'm not going to marry you, Jason.' Another piece of her heart cracked and she tried to pull her hands free, but Jason's grip was far too strong.
The joy, along with some of the colour, faded from Jason's face. 'But...but why not? I love you, Laura. Megan loves you. I...I thought you loved us.'
'I do. And what we have together is wonderful. It's just not enough to base marriage on.'
'But why not?' Jason looked genuinely and totally bewildered. He was still holding Laura's hands as he pulled her gently out of the way of a patient's bed being wheeled along the corridor with attending medical staff. He leaned back against the wall and finally let go of Laura's hands when the procession had passed. 'I don't understand,' he said.
'I'm not going to spend the rest of my life trying to earn your love,' Laura told him gently. 'I've been there and done that and I'm never going to do it again.'
'But I do love you.' Jason's voice was loud enough to make one of the nurses following the bed down the corridor to turn and stare. Then she grinned and gave him a thumbs-up signal.
'Not the same way I love you,' Laura tried to explain. 'And that's what I need if I'm ever going to marry someone and spend the rest of my life with them.'
'But...but I couldn't love you any more than I do.' Jason was trying to keep his voice down but the intensity of his words made it difficult. 'I've finally found out what love really is,' he said. 'I'm in love with you, Laura. But I love you as well.' He shook his head, frustrated that he couldn't express himself clearly enough. 'I can't lose you,' he added desperately. 'I'll never love anybody the way I love you. You're...you're my life now.'
'Not really.' Laura could feel tears gathering as she let Jason's intensity and sincerity wash over her. It was so obviously real. She had known how genuine it was when she'd seen his face in the ambulance that morning. But was that love really for her? The way hers was for him? 'I know you love me, Jase, but how much of how you feel is because I'm part of a package for you?'
'What the hell is that supposed to mean?'
'Megan,' Laura responded simply. 'You want a mother for Megan.'
'No!' Jason shook his head sharply. 'Well...yes, but I would want to marry you anyway.'
'Would you?' Laura queried softly. 'Are you sure about that, Jason?'
'Of course I am.'
'When you thought that Shelley---I mean Sharon---was going to take her away, you said yourself that Megan was the most important thing in your life. That she was what really mattered.'
'But...' Jason frowned ferociously as he tried to recall the conversation. Then his face cleared. 'Of course I had to do what's best for Megan, but part of why it was so important was to do with you. I knew if I lost her I might lose you, and that was a risk I didn't want to take.'
A group of staff heading for supper in the canteen stopped the very private conversation, which was happening in rather a public place, long enough for Jason's words to sink in. Long enough for a bubble of joy to form deep within Laura.
'Why on earth did you think that, Jase?'
'Because she was what brought you into my life. You loved her.'
'But I loved you first.'
'Really?' Jason's smile finally appeared again, just on one side. 'You mean the guys were right? You offered to help me look after Peanut because you fancied me?'
Laura let the embarrassment of having been discussed in such a fashion pass. This was no moment for pride. 'I fancied you the first moment I saw you,' she admitted. 'The first day I started at Inglewood station on Green Watch.' She dipped her head shyly. 'It did take a few weeks to fall in love with you, though.'
'You were in love with me? And I didn't know anything about it?'
'Why would you? I didn't really exist as far as you were concerned. Not enough to notice, anyway.'
'I just didn't know you.' Jason looked embarrassed at the truth of Laura's words. 'I was blind, Laura. Immature. Is that why you won't marry me?'
'No.'
'Why not, then?'
'Because I can't know whether you love me as much as I love you.'
'I love you more,' Jason declared.
Laura grinned at the confident tone. 'How could you know that?'
'There's more to love. All I have going for me that isn't totally shallow is that I'm Megan's dad.'
'And you thought that would be the reason I'd want to marry you?'
'Why else?'
'Because I love you, you bloody idiot,' Laura said through her laughter. 'The way I feel about you has nothing to do with Megan. I'd feel exactly the same if Megan didn't exist.'
'And that's the way I feel about you.'
'Prove it,' Laura challenged.
'OK.' Jason took hold of Laura's shoulders and lowered his head. He kissed her more thoroughly and more tenderly than she'd ever been kissed in her life. A wolf-whistle came from somewhere down the corridor and Jason finally let her go, his expression triumphant. 'How was that?'
'Fabulous.' Laura felt the bubble of joy inside her explode into a tingling excitement that filled every cell in her body.
'So will you believe that I love you...for just you? Will you marry me now?'
'Yes.' Laura laughed. 'I'll marry you, Jase. But I still need more proof.'
'How long will that take?'
Laura's laughter faded until she was simply smiling. 'About a lifetime, I reckon.'
'You're on.' Jason grinned. 'I can manage that, no problem.' He took a confident step forward, tugging on Laura's hand. 'Shall we go and see our baby now?'
'In a minute.' Laura tugged back on Jason's hand and then stood on tiptoe. 'I'd just like a bit more of that proof, first, if you don't mind.'
'Oh, I don't mind a bit,' Jason murmured. His next words were muffled as his lips touched hers. 'We'll take just as long as you need.'
Contents
J ordan Wells lifted the old metal bucket out of the icy stream and set it beside her on the bank. Shivering, she rubbed her wet, chilled hands on her jeans to warm them. She'd forgotten how cold these Montana streams were. They were little more than glacial melt rushing down the mountains.
But the place was beautiful, she had to admit. Smiling, she glanced around the tiny clearing. Early-afternoon sunlight sifted through the Douglas fir trees, making the water sparkle. The clear stream raced over rocks and overturned pebbles while the pine boughs moaned above.
She inhaled the deep-forest air, that complex mix of ancient pines and earth, so unlike the cornfields and woods of Virginia. She'd loved this place once. Being here had filled her with peace, serenity. She'd felt protected from the world, sheltered in the tiny cabin with Cade.
She closed her eyes and, just for a moment, let the images swamp her. Cade's hard face. His low, rough voice. That devastating grin.
The shocking thrills, the wild excitement she'd felt in his strong arms.
But that was before the fire season had started and the loneliness set in. The weeks apart. The endless waiting. Never knowing when he'd come back or how long he would stay.
Then the pleading. The desperation. That stark white hospital bed.
The shattering realization that he loved leaping out of airplanes more than he loved her. And always would.
She opened her eyes with a sigh. But that had happened years ago. That life was gone forever, like the innocent, trusting girl she'd once been.
And that was exactly why she'd come back here. To put that painful past to rest forever and prove she was over Cade. To sell the cabin she'd ignored for years and finally move on with her life. To marry Phil, a stable, steady man with a normal job who'd never rush off on wild adventures and leave her to suffer alone. Who'd waited far too patiently for too many months for her to accept his proposal.
And she would finally say yes to him. She'd be crazy not to. That man was everything she wanted.
She'd accept, all right. As soon as she cleaned out the cabin, she'd stop at the real estate agency in Missoula, sign the contract to sell this place and catch the next flight back East.
She rose and lifted the dented bucket. The thick bed of pine needles muffled her footsteps as she trudged up the narrow trail toward the house.
The wind gusted in the pine trees again and they creaked and wailed overhead. The tinge of wood smoke wafted past and Jordan paused. Had someone built a cabin nearby? She hadn't noticed any new side roads or even tire tracks on the long drive in. Maybe a passing hiker had started a campfire despite the burning ban.
Then she caught the distant buzz of an airplane and her breath stalled. A DC3 jump ship. She'd recognize that sound anywhere. She'd heard that sad, wrenching drone every time Cade flew away.
Her heart pumping hard against her ribs, she set the bucket on the ground and looked up. A patch of blazing blue sky peeked through the thrashing pines.
Could there be a fire nearby? Fear crawled down her spine. How would she know? Her cell phone didn't work out here so she couldn't call to find out, and no one knew where she was. She listened intently, but the lonely sound drifted away.
She inhaled deeply, but only smelled fresh air and pine. She eased her breath back out. It was just her imagination. Old ghosts. The very memories she'd come here to banish.
She picked up the bucket and carted it into the cabin. Old ghosts or not, she'd better finish quickly and leave.
Cade McKenzie stood in the open doorway of the DC3 and sucked in the smell of burning pine. Below him, black, roiling smoke pierced by huge orange flames rose from the Montana forest and covered the earth with a threatening shadow.
Undaunted, he snapped down his face guard and narrowed his eyes. No matter how formidable the fire, he'd stop it. The steep hills and volatile winds only challenged him more. And he knew the eleven smokejumpers poised behind him felt the same.
The spotter, hanging partway out the door beside him, pulled in his head from the slipstream. "Hold into the wind," he shouted over the roar of the rushing air. "And stay wide of the fire. It's gusting bad down low."
Cade nodded and returned his attention to the fire. They would jump near the heel and contain it first, then split up and secure the flanks. Despite the dry conditions, they could pinch off the head by late tomorrow---unless the wind changed direction and whipped the flames toward Granite Canyon.
His gaze shifted west toward the canyon bordered by a silver ridge. From the air, the dense pines hid the log cabin he knew was nestled beside the boulders. His old cabin, where he'd spent the most intoxicating months of his life---until Jordan decided she couldn't handle living with a smokejumper and cleared out. A sharp stab of bitterness tightened his gut. Hell of a time to think of his ex-wife.
He forced the old anger aside. She'd raked him over good, all right, but he'd never see her again. She wouldn't have kept the cabin after all these years. Still, he needed to make sure no one was in there in case the wind switched and the fire jumped the only road out.
"We're on final." The spotter scooted back and struck the side of the open door. His adrenaline rising, Cade moved forward into jump position. His jump partner, a rookie from a booster crew out of Boise, pressed in close behind him.
His muscles bunched, his gaze focused on the horizon, he waited for the spotter's signal. An intense calm settled over him and his mind stilled.
And in that moment, he felt perfectly right. He was doing what he was born for, what he loved.
The spotter slapped his calf hard. His pulse jerked. He thrust himself out of the plane and into the roaring slipstream. And hurtled ninety miles an hour toward the fiery earth.
The wind rose again, swirling the orange flames high and pushing sparks and smoke over the line. Cade cut off his chain saw and lifted his arm to wipe the sweat dripping down his cheeks beneath his hard hat.
Something wasn't right; he could feel it. But what? They'd secured the heel without problems and begun scratching a line up both flanks. But instead of feeling confident they would slay this dragon, unease slid through his gut. And he'd fought fires for too many years to ignore his instincts.
Unsettled, he strode to the pile of equipment and set down his saw, then pulled his canteen from his personal-gear bag. He drank deeply, letting the warm water soothe his parched throat.
"Hey, Cade."
His smokejumping bro, Trey Campbell, strolled over. They'd rookied the same year out of Missoula and jumped together ever since. And after Jordan had deserted him, they'd spent more nights than he could remember frequenting Montana's bars.
Trey rummaged in his own bag and pulled out his water. "Any word on this wind?" he asked.
"No, but it feels like it's picking up." He frowned back at the fire. Heavy brush and snags littered the forest floor, fueling the surging flames. The erratic wind kicked up sparks and slopped spot fires over the line.
He recapped his canteen, pulled out his radio and keyed the mike. "Dispatch, this is McKenzie."
His radio crackled. "Go ahead, McKenzie."
"Any idea what's going on with this wind? It's blowing the hell out of our line."
Voices murmured in the background. "We'll call the district for an update," the dispatcher said. "We'll get right back to you on that."
"Thanks." He stuffed the radio in the side pocket of his bag. "Do you mind taking over for awhile?" he asked Trey. "There's a cabin by the rim of the canyon I need to check out, make sure there aren't any people hanging around." Like his ex-wife? His stomach tightened but he quickly discounted that thought. "They're going to need a head start getting out of here if that wind shifts."
"That your old cabin by any chance?"
"Yeah." Which he'd surrendered to Jordan, along with any illusions he'd ever had about marriage. "After I swing by the cabin, I'll recon the head again, too. When dispatch gets back with that wind report, we can decide where to build line tonight."
"Got it." Trey's teeth flashed white in his soot-streaked face. He shoved his canteen into his personal-gear bag, picked up his chain saw, and loped back toward the line.
Cade took a final swallow of water, then stuffed his canteen in his own personal-gear bag. He moved a small notebook and compass to the side pocket with the radio, and secured the flap.
A sudden blur in his peripheral vision caught his attention and he glanced up. A blazing snag pitched silently forward, and his heart stopped.
A widow maker. A dead, burning tree that fell without warning, killing anyone in its path. And it was heading straight for their line.
"Watch out," he shouted. "A snag!"
The men immediately scattered---except for one. His jump partner, the rookie. The kid looked up, then froze.
Oh, hell. Cade lunged to his feet and sprinted forward. The tree toppled closer and his adrenaline surged. With a final burst of speed, he barreled into the rookie and knocked him out of the way.
And was instantly slammed to the ground.
His breath fled as a massive weight crushed his back. He struggled to lift his face from the dirt, but branches covered his head.
He couldn't see. He couldn't breathe. Where was the rookie? He tried to shout, but couldn't move his mouth.
He shoved against the ground but the branches trapped him. Heat blazed up his back and his adrenaline rose. He pushed again, his efforts futile against the punishing weight.
"Cade! Are you okay? Oh, God. Get him out!"
"We need saws in here," someone else yelled over the roar. "Hurry up!"
Cade's eyes burned. He choked down hot smoke and coughed. Heat crawled up his neck and he gasped for breath.
Chain saws wailed and men shouted. The weight shifted slightly and the branches thrashed above him. Then suddenly, they were gone.
He lifted his head and sucked in air. Work boots stood inches from his face, along with green Nomex pants.
"Oh, man," the rookie said, his voice trembling. "Are you okay?"
"Don't touch him." Trey crouched beside him. "Speak to me, buddy."
"I'm fine," Cade managed.
"Are you sure?" the rookie asked. "Man, that was close."
"Damn close," Trey said. "He's lucky the trunk missed him. If he'd been one second slower..."
But he'd escaped, and so had the rookie. "Thanks, guys." He struggled to push himself upright. Pain knifed his shoulder and he hitched in a ragged breath.
"Hold on. We'll help you up," Trey said.
"I can do it." He wasn't injured, for God's sake. He just needed to catch his breath. "Just get a line around that snag before it spreads the fire."
He forced himself to his knees. Nausea roiled through his belly, but he ignored it and stood.
He waited until the ground steadied and the chain saws started up again. Then, his head down, his right shoulder throbbing, he staggered off the line. His pulse lurched. His skull hammered. Sweat and ash stung his eyes.
The rookie stayed with him. "I still can't believe how fast that fell. I didn't even hear it coming."
Cade stopped near the pile of equipment. He inhaled, and pain seared straight to his ribs.
"Man, do I owe you," the rookie continued. "I can't believe I froze like that."
"Forget it."
"No, really. If you hadn't pushed me out of the way---"
"We'd be peeling your skin off that stob," Trey said from behind them. "Look, we'll do the play-by-play later. Grab a Pulaski and help get that damned thing inside the line."
"Sure." The rookie grabbed the ax-like Pulaski. "Thanks again, man. I owe you." He turned and trotted off.
Cade tipped back his head. Even that small movement made him grimace.
"We'd better look at that shoulder," Trey said.
"I'm fine. I just need to catch my breath." He bent to grab his canteen, then froze as his back and ribs pulsed.
Angry now, he straightened. A wave of dizziness blurred his eyes.
"Come on, Cade. You know the rules."
He knew the drill, all right. Safety first. Get an injured man off the mountain. Anyone who couldn't outrun a fire endangered himself and the other jumpers.
And he was far too professional to compromise his men.
But he wasn't seriously injured. His shoulder was probably just wrenched. And smokejumpers worked hurt all the time. Bad knees, sprained ankles...Chronic pain came with the job.
Besides, he couldn't leave the fire---his fire. Not until they had it under control.
And those damn doctors. What if they took him off the jump list? Hell! He couldn't stop jumping now, not with fires raging all over the west.
Not ever. Dread rolled through his gut. "Just give me a minute," he said. "I'll shake it off." He reached up to remove his hard hat. Pain flamed through his shoulder and he dropped his hand. He glanced at Trey and saw the doubt in his eyes.
"We can't wait," Trey said. "If this wind picks up, they'll ground the choppers. We need to call it in now."
"A few more minutes won't matter. Look, I'll go check out that cabin and make sure no one's hanging around. If my shoulder isn't better by then, I'll call it in myself."
"Cade---"
"For God's sake. Nothing's broken." With supreme effort, he picked up his PG bag and swung it over his left shoulder. Sweat popped out on his forehead and he struggled to breathe.
Trey shook his head. "All right, but I'm going with you, and we'll scout a landing spot on the way."
"Fine." He hated pulling a man off the line, but didn't bother to argue. He knew he'd need every bit of breath he had for the steep trek to the cabin.
By the time they reached Granite Canyon, Cade could hardly stay upright. His head reeled, hot pain ripped through his shoulder, and his ribs burned whenever he breathed.
He stopped at the black Jeep Liberty parked under the trees and propped himself against it to catch his breath.
"You okay?" Trey asked.
"A little winded." He blinked to clear his blurred vision.
"McKenzie?" a voice on his radio called.
"I'll see who's in the cabin," Trey said.
"Go ahead." Glad to have an excuse to lean against the Jeep, Cade pulled his radio from his bag. "McKenzie here."
"This is dispatch. We got that weather report you wanted."
"Good. What's the forecast?" He watched Trey stride to the door.
"Right now it's holding steady at fifteen knots, with gusts up to twenty-five. But there's a front coming through...."
The cabin door opened. A tall, slender woman stepped out and her dark hair gleamed in the light. Trey shifted sideways, and Cade caught sight of her face.
His heart stalled. His chest cramped tight, and suddenly, he felt dazed, as if the tree had crushed him again.
His gaze swept over her features. Those dark, exotic eyes. That full, erotic mouth. And damned if he didn't still feel that pull, that powerful lure of passion and innocence that had once demolished his heart.
He scowled. Innocence, hell. She was as helpless as a rattler, and about as trustworthy, too.
She looked past Trey and their gazes latched. Her dark eyes widened and she mouthed his name.
Bitterness seeped through his gut. His ex-wife. Just what he'd needed to cap off a hell of a day.
"Did you get that?" the person on the radio asked.
"Yeah, I heard you." He turned his back on his ex-wife. The motion set off another wave of dizziness. "Listen. There's a Forest Service road that runs just north of the fire, then intersects with Highway 10. Is it still clear?"
"It is for now. In an hour it could get dicey. The front's going to push that way."
Unless they stopped the fire first.
"Okay. Let me know if anything changes. We've got a civilian heading out that way." He turned the radio to scan.
Trey jogged over. "She's packing up now. She'll be out of here in just a few minutes."
"Great." He shoved his radio into his bag and sharp pain jolted his shoulder. He sucked in his breath.
"Some shock seeing her again," Trey added.
"Yeah." Shock didn't begin to describe it. He felt that familiar anger blaze through him, the same rage and resentment that had consumed him for months. The fury that he'd let himself be conned by a pretty face in search of an easy paycheck. And had convinced himself it was love.
"How's the shoulder?" Trey asked.
He brought his attention back to his job. Smokejumping. Fighting fire. The only thing that mattered. Everything he was.
But he had to face the harsh truth. He couldn't work this fire with his body in this condition, and refusing to leave could endanger the troops.
"It hurts like hell," he admitted. "My collarbone's probably cracked. I'd better get it checked."
"Do you want me to call for a chopper?"
"There's no place to land. The nearest clearing's a mile up that ridge." He'd hiked this forest enough to know.
"So we cut a spot."
"We don't have time. A front's moving in. If we don't get that fire stopped now it could go big." Which would endanger the men even more. And he could never live with himself if that happened.
"So what do you suggest?" Trey asked.
What else could he do? The men couldn't afford to waste valuable time clearing a landing pad, and he couldn't get himself to that ridge.
He glanced at the Jeep. Dread churned through his gut and the bitter taste of gall filled his mouth.
It had been one hell of a day, all right. And it was about to get even worse.
He slowly turned back to the cabin. The door opened and Jordan stepped out, carrying a bag. He smiled grimly. "It looks like I'm going to hitch myself a ride."
S till reeling from the shock of seeing Cade again, Jordan loaded the last of her belongings in the back of the Jeep and shut the hatch. She'd never expected to see him here. Never. And now she was going to spend six hours with him in the Jeep? Good God. Dealing with his memory had been hard enough.
She lifted her stunned gaze to her ex-husband. He stood at the front of the Jeep with Trey, examining a map spread over the hood. While she'd packed up the few blankets and bowls worth saving from the cabin, they'd pored over the map, discussing wind speed and fire retardant.
Cade's hard hat dipped as he folded the map and tucked it into his PG bag. Then he pulled out a battery pack and handed it to Trey. "You might as well take my spares," he said. "You could be out here for a while."
His deep, sensual voice drew goose bumps along her arms, and despite the warm wind, she shivered. God, she'd once loved that voice. It was the first thing she'd noticed about him in that smoky Mexican bar.
The first of many. He stepped away from the Jeep and her gaze drifted over the rest of him. Ashes dusted his battered boots. His olive drab pants rode low on his lean hips and his yellow fire shirt stretched wide across his shoulders. He looked broader through the chest than before, his neck thicker.
Her pulse fluttered. Even in his early twenties, he'd been a gorgeous man. But now...
Now he was simply a smokejumper who needed a ride.
Trey nodded in her direction. "Thanks for helping us out here."
"Sure. No problem." Trey headed toward the trees, and her pulse faltered. No problem? When she was alone in the forest with Cade?
She slid her gaze to her ex-husband, and those shocking blue eyes met hers. Her heart lurched, then wobbled madly. Oh, God, those eyes. How could she have forgotten? That brilliant blue. That carnal gleam. And when he'd smiled...She'd taken one fatal look in that Cancún bar and fallen hard.
But he didn't smile at her now. His gaze slammed into hers, narrow and cold, as stark as the grim lines bracketing his mouth. Harsh, like the chiseled cheekbones streaked with dirt and the hard jaw lined with blond stubble.
He strode toward her and her nerves climbed higher. She scanned his face, searching for a hint of warmth. His mouth flattened, and her hopes tumbled. So much for a friendly ride.
He stopped at the rear passenger door, his stony gaze locked on hers. "You ready?"
"Yes."
"Good." He dropped his PG bag to the ground, yanked open the door with his left hand and hefted the bag to the seat. Still using the same hand, he pulled off his hard hat, dumped it beside the bag, and slammed the door. Then he opened the front passenger door and bent his long frame to climb in the Jeep. He froze with a rough gasp of breath.
And suddenly, it hit her. No wonder he wanted a ride. He was injured---and badly, if it had made him leave his job. The job he'd loved more than her.
She quickly moved behind him. "Can I help?"
"No."
"But your arm---"
"It's fine."
Uncertain, she stepped back. He pulled himself inside the Jeep and awkwardly reached for the door.
"Here, let me---" She started to close it, but his hard stare stopped her cold. "Fine." She lifted her hands and backed off, then stalked to the driver's-side door. Let him fend for himself if he was too proud to accept any help.
Too proud or too bitter?
She slid behind the wheel and braved a glance at the man slumped beside her. His skin looked ashen beneath the grime, his profile strained. The faint scent of wood smoke permeated his clothes.
She shook her head. Why would he be angry? He was the one who'd abandoned her. He'd flown off with that booster crew to Alaska, just when she'd needed him most.
She blocked off a swell of resentment. It didn't matter anymore. Their marriage was over, and had been since the day he'd left for refresher training.
Besides, she had her life in Virginia now---a good one, too, including a man who'd never leave her. All she had to do was drive Cade back to Missoula and then she'd never see him again.
She inhaled deeply, cranked the engine to life and slowly released the clutch. The Jeep lurched forward, hit a downed branch, and jostled sideways.
She glanced at Cade. The grooves deepened around his mouth and his skin paled even more. "Are you going to be okay?" she asked.
"Yeah."
Her nerves tightened. Maybe he was all right, but she had a feeling this was going to be the longest six hours of her life.
The Jeep had stopped moving. Disoriented, Cade forced open his eyes and blinked hard to clear his blurred vision. They were parked in the middle of the narrow dirt road, surrounded by towering pines. The driver's door hung open and the warm wind ruffled a paper napkin on the console. Jordan was nowhere in sight.
He lifted his hand to rub his eyes, then froze as pain sliced his shoulder. Damn. That tree had slammed him good. His skull vibrated like the two-stroke engine of a chain saw, and his entire body felt pummeled.
He glanced at his watch, then slumped back against the seat and shut his eyes. They'd only been driving for a few minutes. He'd either passed out or fallen asleep as soon as they'd left the cabin.
But where was Jordan? And why weren't they moving? He jerked his eyes open again. This was a hell of a time to take a break. They needed to get out of here before the wind picked up and pushed the fire to the road.
Stifling a groan, he reached over with his left hand and shoved his door open, then swung out his legs and stepped down. Dizziness swamped him, and he hung on to the door to catch his balance. Several breaths later, the ground steadied and he slowly straightened.
"Don't shut the door," Jordan said, her voice low.
Startled, he turned toward the back of the Jeep. Jordan knelt in the road facing the woods. His gaze followed the curve of her slender back to the lush flare of her hips. Her faded blue jeans were covered with dust.
"What are you doing?"
"Sshh." She rose to her feet and backed toward him. "I'm trying to catch a dog."
"What?"
"Quiet! You'll scare him off."
He frowned at the bowl of water she'd set on the road next to what looked like pieces of sandwich. He followed her line of vision to the trees but couldn't see anything.
He massaged his eyes. "How long ago did we stop?"
"I don't know. Maybe fifteen minutes."
"Fifteen minutes?" Hell. They were far too close to the cabin. "Listen---"
"Shh. Here he comes."
A clump of ferns edging the road swayed, and then a dog slunk out. At least he thought it was a dog. It was the scrawniest thing he'd ever seen, with wary, desperate eyes set in a gaunt face hollowed by hunger.
"I almost hit him," she murmured. "He was sitting right in the road."
The dog limped closer, favoring his right front paw, then stopped several yards away. Trembling, his tail tucked to his belly and dark ears flattened, he again inched cautiously forward. His eyes darted from them to the food and he let out a pitiful whine.
"I thought he was a coyote at first," she said, her voice low.
"Coyotes are fatter than that."
"That's why I decided he was a dog. Either he's lost or someone dumped him off in the forest. As if a pet can survive out here by instinct."
Her indignation didn't surprise him. She'd always had a soft spot for animals, even wild ones. When they'd lived at the cabin, she'd hung bird feeders in the woods and set salt licks out for the deer.
He turned his attention back to the dog, who was creeping toward the food. He was some sort of shepherd mix, with a matted, tawny coat and dark gray mask and ears. The dog reached the food and stopped. Then suddenly, he bolted back to the woods.
Cade glanced at his watch again. "Okay, let's go."
"Go?" Jordan frowned. "But what about the dog?"
"He'll eat as soon as we leave."
"And then what? Where's he going to get more food?" She planted her hands on her hips. The motion tightened the white T-shirt over her breasts. "You saw how skinny he is. And he needs to get to a vet. That front paw doesn't look good."
"We don't have a choice. We need to get out of here before that front hits."
"But we can't just leave him here alone."
That figured. She cared more about leaving a stray dog than she once had about her husband. "For God's sake---"
"Forget it, Cade. I'm not leaving that poor dog behind. He's already been abandoned once, and believe me, that's enough for anyone." Her dark eyes flashed. "Not that you'd understand that."
Not that he'd understand what? "What the hell does that mean?"
"Nothing."
"The hell it doesn't." His irritation surged.
She lifted her hands and sighed. "All right, fine. I'll tell you. It's just that you're always flying off and traveling somewhere. Having adventures and putting out fires. You don't know what it's like to be left behind, to be sitting at home waiting, day after lonely day. But I do. And believe me, I'm not doing that to the dog."
He stared at her in disbelief. "What are you talking about? You're the one who left me."
"Only because you'd already gone."
Incredulity flooded through him. He would have laughed if his ribs didn't ache so much. "Hell, that's rich. You walk out without even a note. I come home to an empty house and a goddamn letter from your lawyer. And you accuse me of abandoning you?"
"You went to Alaska."
He stared at her. "I was working. Earning money. You know, trying to support my wife?"
Her brows rose. "You're not seriously saying you were doing it for my sake?"
"Hell, yes, I was doing it for you. Wasn't I supposed to work?"
"But you were gone all the time. You hardly came back. You even joined that booster crew to Alaska."
"That was my job," he said tightly. "You knew that when we got married. The Forest Service owns you in the summer. They send you wherever the fires are. You can't control where you go. And you can't just turn work down."
"You could have found a different job."
"Right." That was their problem, right there. Ten years ago, he'd idolized this woman. Worshipped her. Given her his heart, his soul. Everything he owned and every damned cent he earned. And she still hadn't been satisfied. She'd wanted him to change who he was.
She bit her lip. Her dark eyes widened with that vulnerable look that always made him want to protect her.
His jaw flexed. She knew exactly how to play him, all right. Even knowing the truth, how she'd ripped out his heart and screwed him over, he had the ridiculous urge to console her.
Well, she'd suckered him in once with that helpless act. Damned if he would fall for it again.
She sighed. "Look. Can we just forget it? I don't want to argue all the way to Missoula."
"Yeah." He didn't need this aggravation. He had enough problems to deal with. He needed to hightail it back to Missoula and get himself checked by a doctor so he could return to the jump list.
"Catching the dog won't take that long," she added. "I'm sure he was somebody's pet."
"We've already stayed here too long. That road's going to close any minute."
"Is the fire really that close?"
He glanced at the thrashing treetops. "It depends on the wind speed, but yeah, it's almost here."
"But what's the dog going to do in the fire?" Her dark eyes pleaded with his. "He can't run with that hurt paw. And he's so hungry."
"He'll get away." He returned his gaze to the dog skulking from the safety of the trees. Despite his assurances, they both knew that he wouldn't make it. He was far too weak to escape a wildfire.
"Just give me five more minutes." Her soft brown eyes met his again, and despite the urgency, he felt himself waver. "Please?"
He pulled his gaze from hers and back to the swaying pine trees. He was a damn fool, risking his life for a stray mutt and a woman who had betrayed him. But crazy or not, the sooner they captured that dog, the faster they could leave the forest.
"Three," he told her. "And not a second more." Resigned, he opened the rear passenger door and riffled through his PG bag. He found his supply of beef jerky in the side compartment, removed several strips and handed them to Jordan. "Here. If this doesn't get him, nothing will."
"Thanks." Her full mouth softened into a smile, and he felt the tug to his heart.
He was a fool, all right. Annoyed by his weakness for this woman, he strode to the front of the Jeep. Then he propped himself against it to wait.
Jordan walked to the edge of the road, broke off a piece of beef jerky and tossed it to the dog. The dog eyed it and scented the air. The warm wind blew dried pine needles across the road and lifted the fur on his ruff. After several seconds, he padded forward and licked the jerky, then finally gulped it down.
Jordan held out another piece. "Come on, sweetie," she cooed. "Come here. We won't hurt you."
Without warning, Cade felt the caress of her soft voice, remembered it sliding over him in the dark, along with her lips and body. His gaze roved her tiny waist, the curve of her bottom encased in tight blue jeans, the pale patch of skin exposed beneath the T-shirt. He wanted to run his hands up that silken skin, taste her heat, her desire. Hear that low moan she made when he stroked her naked breasts.
He dragged in his breath. This was a hell of a time to remember their sex life---the one thing they'd gotten exactly right.
He forced his attention back to the dog. Looking as mesmerized as Cade had once been by Jordan's voice, the dog crept cautiously closer. But he stopped a few feet from her hand.
Cade's admiration rose. The dog was smarter than he'd ever been. That sexy voice wouldn't trap him.
"Come here," Jordan wheedled. The dog whined, and she tossed him another piece of jerky. Still trembling, he again inched forward. Then he snatched up the jerky and ate it.
"That's right," Jordan encouraged. She held out another piece. "You're such a sweetie. Such a good dog."
The dog moved even closer. Just inches from her hand, he stopped, plopped his hindquarters in the dust and craned his neck toward her hand.
"Look, he has a collar. He really was someone's pet."
"Jordan---"
"I know. We're almost there. Such a good dog," she continued cooing. Seconds later, the dog scooted forward and took the beef from her hand. "Good boy! Now let's get you in the car. Come on, sweetie. Come on." Holding another fragment of jerky, she backed slowly to the Jeep. The dog glanced at Cade and yawned.
"Look away," she said.
"What?"
"You're stressing him out. Don't look him in the eyes. And yawn if you can. That will make him feel safer."
Skeptical, but willing to do anything to hurry them out of the forest, Cade turned his head and faked a yawn. In his peripheral vision, he saw the dog creep toward the Jeep, and his respect for Jordan grew. So she could manage dogs.
"Okay, this is the test." She set the jerky on the floor of the Jeep and stepped back. "Come on," she urged.
The wind creaked the pine branches in the silence. The dog limped forward, then stopped. Seconds ticked by, and Cade's impatience mounted. But just as he opened his mouth to protest, the dog jumped into the Jeep.
Jordan closed the door. "Got him." She whirled around and beamed up at him, and he felt the kick to his heart. "That beef jerky was perfect. What a great idea."
"I guess he just needed the right enticement." His gaze slid over her creamy face to the pale smattering of freckles on her nose, over soft, full lips and down to her breasts. His pulse leaped. He knew what had motivated him.
Until she'd gutted his heart and stomped out his illusions. His jaw hardened. "Let's get out of here."
"Sure." Hurt flashed in her eyes and she turned away.
Hell. He hadn't meant to sound rude, but he didn't have time to mince around her feelings. They had to get out of this forest fast.
While she retrieved the bowl she'd set in the road, he climbed into the Jeep and closed his door. The movement sent pain shooting through his shoulder and he struggled to breathe. As bad as he ached, he must have cracked his collarbone, maybe even a couple of ribs. Jordan slid in beside him and slammed her door, and the sound throbbed through his skull. He probably had a concussion, too. He just hoped it wouldn't keep him off the jump list long.
She cranked the engine and they lurched forward. Unable to buckle his seat belt, he planted his feet wide against the floorboard to steady himself in the seat. Fighting off another bout of dizziness, he closed his eyes.
For several moments, they drove in silence. Warm air rushed through the open windows. The Jeep bounced down the dusty road, eating up the distance toward the front. Like any seasoned smokejumper, Cade used the spare time to rest.
"Do you smell something?" Jordan asked.
He blinked open his eyes and sniffed. "Yeah. That damn dog stinks."
She shot him a wry smile. "I mean besides the dog. I could smell him out in the open." Her smile faded, and worry crept into her eyes. "I think I smell smoke."
He inhaled deeply this time, ignoring the ache in his ribs. The faint scent of burning pine filled his lungs. "Yeah, I smell it."
"Do you think we're too late to get through?"
"We'll find out." He scanned the thick trees lining the road but didn't see signs of the fire.
"I'll go faster." She accelerated, and the Jeep leaped forward. Dirt spun under the tires and kicked up clouds of dust. They hit a hard bump, jarring his shoulder, and he choked back a groan. He didn't care how much the damned thing throbbed. He'd have to wait and deal with it later, after they got past the fire.
The Jeep rocketed down the road and the smell of smoke grew stronger. Jordan stared straight ahead, her brow furrowed in concentration. Cade felt his own tension mount.
Then smoke drifted over the road and his stomach tightened. The fire was closer than he'd thought. And unless the front made a sharp detour, they'd be caught in its path.
They careened around a curve and up a knoll, and suddenly, the front appeared on the right. Deep-orange flames surged toward them. Dark, heavy smoke roiled over the road.
"Stop!"
Jordan slammed on the brakes. The Jeep skidded sideways, and Cade braced his boot against the dashboard to keep from hitting the windshield. They abruptly jerked to a stop.
The roar of the wildfire filled the forest. The wind whipped the tall flames skyward and curled them high through the trees. Dry branches exploded in brilliant bursts, shooting flames through the crowns.
"Oh, God," Jordan breathed.
Cade frowned. From what he could see through the smoke, the perimeter was completely erratic. Long fingers of flame ran ahead of the front, pushed by the powerful winds. Sparks blew through the billowing smoke and torched spot fires over the road.
A gust of wind scattered ashes on the Jeep. Flare-ups hissed and snapped beside them.
"Cade," Jordan said, her voice unsteady. "What are we going to do?"
Good question. "We can't outrun that flame front." Unless there was a natural barrier ahead that protected the road. And he sure as hell didn't remember one.
His shoulder screamed as he reached back for the radio in his PG bag and he blinked against the pain. Maybe someone had reconned the fire from the air and knew if they could make it. The smoke was too thick for him to tell from the ground.
But then the wind gusted again. The smoke lifted, and he saw the road for himself. It ran straight ahead, right into the path of the fire.
He glanced at Jordan. Raw fear shone in her eyes. "Can we get out?" she asked, her voice trembling.
His gut twisted, and he reluctantly shook his head. "Not through that. We're trapped."
T rapped? Jordan tore her gaze from Cade and gaped at the inferno raging before her. A fierce roar shook the air. Flames swirled up pines like fiery tornadoes and shot sparks far overhead.
Fear slammed through her nerves and she stifled a cry. They had to get away. Run! But she couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Couldn't even see where they needed to go.
Ashes blew across the windshield and the grass beside the Jeep started burning. A towering wall of fire charged toward them while thick, heavy smoke rolled over the road.
"Turn around," Cade said over the noise.
"But the grass is burning!"
"So back up and then turn around."
Of course. Her heart hammering, her breathing shallow, she threw the Jeep into Reverse and hit the gas. They sped back to a wide spot in the road and she slammed on the brakes. The Jeep bucked to a stop, then stalled. "Oh, God."
"Take it easy," Cade said, his voice even. "We've got time."
Time? With the world around them on fire? She flicked her gaze to Cade. He slumped back in his seat, his head cradled casually against the headrest. How on earth could he stay so calm?
Her gaze switched to the windshield. The wild flames thundered over the earth, and terror raced through her chest. But Cade was right. This wasn't the time to panic. She needed to control her fear and get them away from this fire.
Inhaling deeply, she cranked the engine and spun the wheel, making the Jeep lurch forward. Then she hit the brakes, shoved the gearshift into Reverse and shot back.
They stopped, and she sucked in another breath. She'd turned the Jeep around. Now she just had to drive away. Her heart still sprinting, she floored the gas pedal. The Jeep fishtailed, straightened and hurtled back up the dirt road.
They rounded a bend, and she looked in the rearview mirror. The flames disappeared behind the dense stands of fir trees, and she hitched out her breath. They were safe, at least for now. She eased up her foot on the gas.
Several breaths later, her heart stopped quaking. She pried her fingers from the steering wheel and rearranged her grip. The roar of the fire gradually faded, and her galloping pulse finally slowed.
But then she heard a soft, high whistle from the backseat. She pulled her foot off the gas and glanced back.
The dog huddled on the floor behind Cade's seat, trembling wildly and breathing in thin, reedy gasps. "For goodness' sake," she said. He was hyperventilating. She reached back and stroked his soft head, and his worried gaze lifted to hers. "Don't worry, sweetie. We're okay."
At least she hoped so. She glanced at Cade, still slouched calmly in his seat, his booted feet planted on the floorboards. "What are we going to do now?"
His vibrant blue eyes met hers. "You remember that old logging trail past the cabin?"
"How could I forget it?" They'd hiked that trail dozens of times to picnic in the meadow by the stream.
At least they'd intended to picnic. Heat gathered low in her belly, along with a memory as intense as any fire. Of lying in the warm, sunlit grass, Cade's strong arms holding her tight. His hard face taut, his breathing ragged. His eyes singeing hers.
His blue eyes narrowed, and she knew he remembered it, too. Her heart thumped hard against her ribs and she yanked her gaze to the road.
"It might not be open," he continued, his voice rough. The husky timbre made her shiver. "I couldn't tell when we were setting up to jump. The timber's too heavy to see the road from the air."
"I guess we can give it a try."
"We don't have a choice. There aren't any other roads out here."
She tried to picture the abandoned road. She remembered long, deep ruts and knee-high weeds, at least in the section they'd hiked. They'd never quite made it past that meadow.
She cleared her throat. "Do you know where it comes out?"
"According to the map, it should hook on with another Forest Service road on the other side of the mountain. That's if we can get through."
"And if we can't?"
"We'll figure something out."
That remark was so typical of Cade that, despite her fear, the corner of her mouth curved up. "How many times have I heard that line?"
He lifted his uninjured shoulder, and she marveled again at his calm. He never worried or panicked, even with a forest fire licking his heels. He excelled when things got tough.
His confidence impressed her, though, and always had. And his strength. Her gaze slid down his corded neck and broad shoulders to those big, callused hands and muscled thighs. He was a tough, capable man, all right, and it had been easy to let him take charge.
But after he'd left, none of that strength had helped her. Not during the endless nights she'd spent alone. Not when she'd discovered she was pregnant. And especially not on the desperate drive to the hospital or in that cold, white hospital bed.
Or during the grief-stricken days that followed, when loss turned to desolation.
A hollow feeling filled her chest. She'd never told Cade about the baby. When he hadn't returned, she'd simply packed a bag and left, the same as he'd done to her.
A sliver of guilt pierced her throat. She knew she'd handled that badly. Instead of fleeing Missoula, she should have stayed and told him the truth. But she'd been nineteen years old, in an agony of pain, and so shattered she couldn't think straight.
And what did it matter now? The past was gone. And at least she'd learned her lesson. After suffering through a childhood with a wandering father and then that lonely marriage to Cade, she wanted a man who stayed home. And she'd have one, as soon as she got them out of the forest.
Her mind safely back on track, she drove quickly along the dusty road, past the spot where they'd rescued the dog. Minutes later, their old cabin came into view. Despite her neglect, it hadn't changed much over the years. Dead branches littered the rooftop, but the weathered logs framing the one-room structure still lent it a sturdy look.
"You still have that chain saw?"
Startled, she glanced at Cade. "You think the road's that bad?"
"It could be."
She sucked in a breath. If trees blocked the road, it would take forever to cross the mountain. And what if the fire came their way?
Determined not to panic, she hissed her breath back out. "It's in the toolshed." She parked between the trees behind the cabin and cut the engine.
Cade climbed down, and she opened her door to follow. Then she paused. She'd had a hard time cleaning that cabin, surrounded by impressions of Cade. Every chipped plate, every battered utensil had flooded her with memories, reminding her of those tender days. And the bed....
Her face flamed. No wonder she'd ignored the cabin all these years. It had been far easier to let it go than relive those delirious times. And how could she stand to be here with him now?
She had no choice. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath of pine-tinged air and stepped down. "We'll be right back," she told the dog and closed the door.
Fir needles cushioned her steps as she trailed Cade to the wooden toolshed behind the cabin. She tried not to walk too close, to keep some distance between them. She didn't want to feel his heat, his power, that mesmerizing tick of desire that consumed her whenever he was in sight.
He stopped at the door and waited for her to unlock it. She stepped beside him and that smoky scent reached her nostrils, along with the essence of Cade. Her head felt light, and her pulse quickened at the vivid memories. How many times had they done this together, coming home to the cabin? But back then, they'd be laughing. Cade would pull her close and nuzzle her neck....
Her hands shaking, her face burning, she fumbled to unlock the rusty padlock securing the door. She didn't dare look at Cade.
She finally unhooked the lock and stepped back. Cade moved forward and she braved a glance at his face. His jaw was rigid, the muscles along his cheeks tense.
Without warning, his gaze met hers. And for an instant, she saw that old fire in his eyes, the urgency and passion.
And then, just as fast, it was gone.
Unable to breathe, she yanked her gaze to the ground. And suddenly, an ache swelled in her heart, along with a deep sense of loss, as if something special had disappeared from her life, something unique. A connection, a sense of destiny she'd never felt with anyone since. And maybe never would again.
Her throat cramped as Cade shoved the creaking door open and stepped past her into the shed. His boots tramped hard on the wooden floor, and his wide shoulders filled the narrow doorway. She blinked back the blur in her eyes.
Seconds later, he turned and handed her a coil of nylon line with an old wooden clothespin stuck to it. Somehow the rope made her feel even worse, and the wedge in her throat grew thicker. It shouldn't have been fun washing their clothes by hand, stringing that line across the cabin in the winter, letting the clothes dry by the heat of the woodstove while they made love on the bed. But dear God, she'd adored this man.
She looked at his unyielding face and just then, it struck her. The deep bitterness he felt, the resentment. The fierce anger he'd fostered for years.
He blamed the collapse of their marriage on her.
But that was crazy! He was the one who had left. He'd chosen his job over her.
But he didn't see it that way. A sick feeling spiraled through her stomach. Oh, God. "Cade, I..." Her voice shook, and her heart battered hard against her rib cage. "Back there, when we were catching the dog, you said, you thought I'd...that I'd abandoned you."
He stilled, and the muscles along his jaw tensed. "You're trying to tell me you didn't?"
"Yes. I mean no, I didn't, I never..."
"Right." Bitterness seeped through his voice. "Well, you sure as hell fooled me." He made a sound of disgust and turned away.
And her heart balled even tighter. She never would have abandoned Cade. She'd loved him back then, truly loved him, with a passion bordering on desperation. He'd been the center of her world, the hero of her childhood dreams---or so she'd thought.
But even when he'd crushed those dreams, she'd never intended to hurt him. She'd just been too wrapped up in her own misery to do anything more than flee.
She gazed at his rigid back and her heart wrenched. She had to tell him that. Even if it didn't change how he felt, he needed to know the truth. He probably wouldn't listen to her now, and with the fire at their backs, this wasn't the time. But somehow, before they reached Missoula, she would explain.
He lifted a plastic fuel container with his left hand, shook it, and handed it back. Then he pulled the chain saw from the shelf. "When was the last time you used this?"
"I never have."
"Hell. The damn thing probably won't run." He set it on the ground outside the shed, turned back and grabbed an ax. He set that down next to the chain saw.
"That's it," he said, still sounding angry. "Let's go."
Her heart weighted, she tucked the clothesline under her arm, picked up the chain saw, and headed toward the Jeep. She heard Cade close the shed door behind her.
He helped load the tools through the rear window, and every jerk of his arm, every twist of his head tightened her nerves, reminding her of the unfinished business between them. Still, she was thankful for his silence. With her emotions so raw, she didn't trust herself to speak.
"The trail starts just past that boulder," he said when they'd climbed back into the Jeep.
"I remember," she managed. She pulled back onto the road and drove slowly toward the large rock, then stopped when she spotted the trail. Ferns sprawled over deep ruts and potholes. Branches poked through the clusters of weeds.
Her apprehension rose. "It looks pretty rough. Do you think the Jeep will make it?"
"It had better."
"You're right." No matter how primitive, this road was their only way out. She tentatively stepped on the gas.
The Jeep bumped over a branch. The grooves around Cade's mouth deepened and he cradled his arm to his chest. She hit the brakes, concerned. "Are you okay?" she asked.
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure? You don't look fine." His skin had paled and new creases lined his forehead.
He flicked his hard gaze to her. "Well, looks can be deceiving, can't they?"
A swift jab of hurt lanced her chest. "You think I deceived you?"
He raised a brow but didn't answer, and she yanked her gaze to the trail. So he thought she had deceived him, that she'd lied to him when she left. In a way, she didn't blame him. But he was wrong, and she had to explain that. She owed him that much after everything they'd shared.
But this wasn't the time. Her throat aching with guilt and apprehension, she pressed on the gas. Fortunately, dodging branches demanded concentration and she pushed the past to the back of her mind.
But that left her to deal with the present. And no matter how difficult the trail was, her senses locked on the man stretched beside her. His long, muscled legs and sturdy boots filled the periphery of her vision. Every time she inhaled, his low, smoky scent scored her lungs. Even the rasp of his breath stroked her nerves into heightened awareness.
But then, he'd always had that effect on her. From the moment they'd met, he'd taken command of her senses. The attraction had been instant, overwhelming, sparking a passion they couldn't contain. But even a fire that hot couldn't sustain a marriage, especially when Cade wouldn't stay home.
She glanced at him again and stifled a sigh. Unfortunately for her, the man still rattled her senses. Ten long years hadn't dimmed that attraction one bit.
Which was going to make this one uncomfortable drive.
About a mile past the cabin, the road started climbing. Thankful for the distraction, she stopped and shifted to all-wheel drive. The sun slid behind the mountain as she powered uphill, sending long shadows over their path. The pines turned a darker shade of green, and the warm air gradually cooled.
Suddenly, she spotted the old meadow and her heart jammed in her throat. And despite her intentions, sensations clawed through her nerves, memories of rolling in that fragrant grass, alive and in love with Cade. When need had surged, and laughter had turned to breathtaking hunger.
Desperate to banish the memories, she stomped on the gas. The Jeep lurched forward, the meadow disappeared behind them, and she slowly released her breath.
She braved a glance at Cade. He stared straight ahead, the muscles along his jaw taut. Whether from pain or seeing the meadow, she didn't know. And no way was she going to ask.
A moment later, he cleared his throat. "Have you used this Liberty much off-road?"
She inched out her breath. "It's not mine. I rented it at the airport. I thought I might need an SUV if the roads were bad, and the Liberty was all they had."
His eyes met hers. "So you don't live around here?"
"No, I work in Virginia. I just came here on my vacation."
"To stay in the cabin?"
"No, to sell it." She pulled her gaze to the road. Frankly, she didn't know why he'd ever given her the place. She hadn't asked for it. And although she loved to hike, he was more the outdoorsman.
Maybe it had reminded him too much of her.
"So you don't come here much?" he persisted.
"No." Her gaze met his again. "This is my first trip back."
His blue eyes narrowed on hers. She waited for him to ask why she still owned a cabin she never used. Why she hadn't severed that tie to him years ago. Questions she'd refused to ask herself and certainly couldn't answer.
His eyes searched hers, and her pulse drummed in her throat. "Looks like you picked a bad time," he finally said.
"Yes." She dragged her gaze away. Her timing stank, all right, especially since she'd come back to get over him. And the irony of that struck her hard. Instead of being able to forget the man, she now had to spend hours trapped in this Jeep beside him, conscious of every movement he made.
Moments later, the trees on the side of the road thinned, and Cade straightened in his seat. "Stop for a minute, will you?"
"Sure." Anxious to put some distance between them, she braked and turned off the engine. Cool air blew through the open windows, along with the distant roar of the fire.
Cade grabbed his radio and climbed out. Jordan glanced back at the dog curled behind his seat and wondered if he needed a break. But what if she couldn't catch him?
"Sorry, sweetie," she said. "We'll let you out later, when we're farther away from the fire." She stroked his head, smiling when he looked up and whined. He really was a sweet dog. Thank goodness she'd found him in time.
She got out of the Jeep, closed the door and stretched to ease the tension from her shoulders. Then she joined Cade at the edge of the road.
She looked down at the forest and the air locked in her throat. A sea of fire shimmered below them, rolling and seething like something alive. Brilliant orange flames streamed over the livid mass and whipped high into the sky.
"Looks like it jumped the road," Cade said. "It's a good thing we turned around."
She searched for signs of the road they'd traveled, but the fire had swallowed it up. She shivered, suddenly very glad Cade was with her. What would she have done on her own?
The cool wind gusted and blew her long hair forward. She gathered the thick mass and held it over her shoulder to keep it out of her eyes. "It's windy up here."
"It's that front pushing through." He lifted his radio and pushed a button. A small red light came on. "Campbell, this is McKenzie."
"McKenzie," Trey radioed back seconds later. "What the hell are you still doing out here? I thought you'd be soaking in a hot tub with some naked blonde by now."
Cade chuckled, and a swift pain cramped Jordan's chest. Caught off guard, she sucked in her breath. She couldn't be jealous. That was ridiculous. She and Cade were divorced!
She glanced at him, and her lungs closed up. He stood with his long legs braced apart, his wide shoulders framing his muscled body. Of course the women flocked to him. And when he looked at them with those eyes...
"Listen," he said into the radio. "We couldn't get through on the road, so we turned around. We're up on the ridge behind the cabin." He paused, and Trey said something she didn't catch. "It's pushing west," Cade said, "but the perimeter's erratic."
Her stomach still churning, she turned away. Below her, a tree exploded, launching deep-orange flames toward the sky. She tried to imagine people down there fighting that fire---smokejumpers like Trey and Cade. How on earth did they find the courage?
"You're probably going to need that tanker," Cade said. "The mud should help you get close. Just make damned sure you've got an escape route."
An escape route. She swallowed hard.
"Probably back inside the burned-out area," he added. "And heads up on this one. I don't like the way it looks."
Fear lodged deep in her throat, and she took a long look at the fire. She'd never understood that aspect of Cade---how he could stand the danger. It had seemed reckless to her, even selfish, that he'd risk his life for this job. Every time he'd left, she'd been terrified he wouldn't return.
And now that she could see the sheer enormity of the fire, the risk seemed even worse.
"Yeah, I'll keep you posted." He turned off the radio and his gaze met hers. And without warning, her world tilted even more. He was good at this, she realized, an expert. A leader who took charge and got the job done.
Not the thrill-seeker she'd once thought.
And he cared about his men. Enough to radio and help them, even when finding his own way out.
She cleared the sudden tightness from her throat. "Can they really put out this fire? It's so huge."
"It's getting there." He gazed down at the blaze. "They'll have to get a tanker in here in the morning, probably bring in a hotshot crew and get more saws on the line."
"Why didn't they do that to begin with?"
"Because the fire wasn't big enough then." His gaze met hers. "Smokejumpers are the initial attack team. They drop us in while the fire's still small, and we put it out before it goes big." He smiled wryly. "At least that's the idea. If we can contain it, we save them a lot of money."
She looked out at the fire again. "You save more than money." That fire devoured trees and killed animals. And if it reached a populated area, they could lose homes and people, too.
She frowned. "I guess I never appreciated that before. I mean, I knew what you did, but I never really thought about the lives you save." She'd focused on the danger, the glamour, the excitement of leaping from planes.
The time he'd spent apart from her.
"You're a hero," she admitted.
"Hardly. I just do my job."
"You do far more than that. You're amazing." Their gazes locked. The seconds stretched. And she wondered if she'd really known him back then, ever seen beyond her own needs to the essence of this man.
And that bothered her. She'd come here to let go of the past, not to see Cade in a better light.
Or to find out she'd been wrong.
"We'd better go," he said.
"All right." Still unsettled, she followed him back to the Jeep and started the engine. He slid in the passenger side and closed the door.
"How far until we meet up with that Forest Service road?" she asked.
"Hold on. I'll check the map." He turned on the dome light and reached toward the backseat, then stopped.
The pallor of his face caught her attention. "I've got it." She grabbed the map and handed it to him.
"Thanks." He spread it awkwardly over his lap. After a moment, he lifted his head. "We should get to a river pretty quick. Once we cross that, we've got about twenty miles to go."
"Twenty miles? Just to reach a dirt road?" Her jaw sagged. This trip could take all night. And she couldn't imagine driving this trail in full darkness. "But what about your shoulder?"
"It's fine. I'm guessing my collarbone's cracked, that's all."
"That's all?" She gaped at him. "Are you joking? You must be in terrible pain."
"It's not that bad."
"Right." She didn't believe that for a second. "Is there something we can do?"
"We can rig a sling up later, when we're farther away from the fire. I don't want to take the time right now."
"All right," she said, still stunned. She knew they didn't have the luxury of stopping, at least not yet. "But let me know when you want to do it." She put the Jeep into gear and released the brake.
A quarter mile later, they crossed the ridge top and started down the opposite side. They descended slowly, working their way haltingly down the rutted road, every sway and jostle of the Jeep bringing their shoulders dangerously closer. Jordan focused on the path the headlights cut through the dusk, determined to ignore her nearness to Cade.
The smell of the fire finally faded, replaced by the strong smell of pine. She braved a glance at Cade. He'd fallen asleep, thank God. At least now he could escape the pain that injury must cause. And she could stop pretending he didn't affect her.
She let her gaze linger on his handsome face, on the hard, familiar planes of his cheekbones, the stubbled line of his jaw. The dim light emphasized the shadows under his eyes, his fatigue. He seemed vulnerable suddenly, exhausted, and she felt a reluctant surge of sympathy.
He'd always come home from fires worn out. He'd shower, wolf down more food than she'd thought possible and promptly crash into bed. And leave her feeling even lonelier than when he'd been gone.
She forced her gaze back to the road. After seeing that fire, she had to admit he had a right to be tired. She could only imagine the strength his job demanded.
Pensive now, she continued picking her way down the mountain. Soon she heard a low rushing sound over the noise of the motor. It grew steadily louder, and her hopes rose. They'd made it to the river. Now just twenty more miles until they reached a normal dirt road.
But then the headlights flashed on a barrier blocking their path and she quickly slammed on the brakes.
"What's wrong?" Cade asked, his voice rough with sleep.
She peered through the windshield at the metal pole. What on earth? "The road's closed."
He dragged a hand over his eyes and straightened. "I'll check it out."
"I'll come with you." Her anxiety rising, she pushed open her door. Why would anyone block off this old trail? Unless...
She hurried around the front of the Jeep. The sound of rushing water filled her ears. The Jeep's headlights shone past the barrier to the dark, swirling water below, and her breath jammed in her throat.
Someone had put up that pole for good reason. The bridge was gone.
C ade strode around the roadblock and peered down at the river snaking through the rock-strewn valley. Months of drought had shrunk it back from its broad banks, exposing rocks and stranded deadfall. But even now, in this weakened state, it wouldn't be easy to cross.
"I can't believe this," Jordan said from beside him. "Why would anyone take out the bridge?"
Her voice floated to him in the dim light, and the low, throaty sound tightened his nerves. He forced himself to ignore that temptation and concentrate on the problem at hand. "The mining company probably built it. They wouldn't want to maintain it after they shut down. And nobody uses this road."
"Except for us."
"Yeah." Which was their bad luck, but he hadn't expected the trail to be problem-free. In fact, he was surprised they'd made it this far.
Jordan crossed her arms. "So now what? Should we turn around?"
He started to shake his head, but the stabbing pain stopped him cold. "Too dangerous. We need to keep going in case the fire turns."
"You think there's another bridge?"
"No, we'll just have to cross without one. The bank isn't steep," he added. "The Jeep can make it down."
Her eyes widened, and even in the low light he could see her alarm. "But what about the water? How do we get through that?"
He kept his gaze steady on hers, hoping she wouldn't panic. "I'm guessing it's pretty shallow with the drought we've had. But we won't know for sure until we're in it."
Her hand rose to her throat. He wished he could spare her this. He worked with danger and risked his life every day. But she'd always been more vulnerable, in need of protection. Or so he'd thought.
"If you want, we can leave the Jeep here and wade across," he said slowly. "I can come back later and pick it up."
"But then we'd have to hike to that road. And what if the fire turns? Wouldn't it be better if we had the Jeep?"
"Maybe." Depending on the path the fire took.
She turned toward the river again. The Jeep's high beams reflected off the thrashing water. The scent of moisture permeated the air. "I guess we'd better drive it across," she finally said. "But shouldn't we wait until morning?"
"More light won't help that much." The real danger lay under the water, with river rocks and mud. "And the way that front is moving, I'd rather cross tonight, at least get a firebreak between us and the fire." Even then, sparks could blow across, but he didn't mention that. She already looked anxious enough.
Her long sigh cut through the dusk. "All right, but you'd better drive. This is totally out of my league."
If only he could. He tried to lift his right arm, but sharp pain blazed through his shoulder, a deep, dizzying spasm that burned from his neck to his ribs. Hell. His damned arm was practically useless.
He clenched his jaw and sucked in his breath, willing the ache to subside. He'd always been the strong one, the man who took all the risks. Sure, he relied on his smokejumping bros, but that was part of the job.
But this weakness, this damned dependency...
His stomach balled, and something close to panic rocked his nerves. It was only temporary, for God's sake. He wasn't a permanent ground-pounder. He'd be back on the jump list in no time.
But it was still damned hard to admit. He forced his fist to uncurl. "You'll have to do it. I can't shift with my shoulder this bad."
The rushing water filled the stark silence. He felt Jordan's gaze on him, and his pulse slugged hard through his head, as if he'd just run the PT test. God, he hated being weak.
"All right," she said. "I'll try."
He flicked his gaze to hers, but didn't see condemnation. The knot slowly eased in his gut.
But then, she'd always had that effect on him. She'd been his oasis, his refuge, offering him the comfort and solace he'd craved.
"Do you want to make that sling now?" she asked.
"Later, after we cross the river. We can take a break on the other side."
Her eyes searched his. Her delicate brows wrinkled with worry, not for her own safety, but for his. His resentment slipped another notch.
And suddenly, he wanted to move closer, to feel that gentle warmth. To bask in her approval, her acceptance. Her love.
And that was as dangerous as the fire. He couldn't let down his defenses. This woman had the power to destroy him, just as she'd done before.
He'd barely survived it the first time. He'd spent months enraged, so bitter he could barely sleep. Always doubting, forever questioning, wondering what on earth he'd done wrong. And he'd be damned if he'd suffer through that hell again.
He yanked his mind to the river and stepped back. "We'd better go." Without waiting for her to answer, he circled the roadblock and strode to the back of the Jeep. Once there, he popped the rear window, picked up the nylon rope and tossed it on top of his PG bag.
A few seconds later, Jordan joined him. And despite his resolve, her soft, feminine scent invaded his space and heightened his senses. Annoyed by his reaction, he stepped away. "You'd better put a bag together," he told her. "In case we have to bail out midstream."
He heard her suck in her breath. He didn't want to scare her, but they had to prepare. "I doubt you'll need it," he added.
"I know." But her hands trembled as she dumped out an athletic bag full of toiletries. She pulled a blanket and clothes from various bags, along with food from the cooler and a plastic bowl. "For the dog," she explained.
She zipped the bag closed and dropped it on the backseat. The dog raised his head and whined.
"Don't worry," she told him. "We're not going to leave you here."
She meant that, Cade knew. She would risk her own life before she abandoned that dog. Of course, he'd once thought she was that committed to him.
Shoving aside a rush of resentment, he closed the rear window, walked back to the passenger door and climbed in. Pain bolted down his shoulder with the movement. He panted quietly, sucking in fast, shallow breaths until the spasm passed, knowing this wasn't the time to be weak.
Jordan slid into the driver's seat and closed her door. She latched her seat belt, and her uncertain gaze met his.
"Ready?" he managed as the pain edged back to an ache.
"I guess so." Her gaze moved over his chest. "Do you want me to help with your seat belt?"
"No." He'd rather suffer than have her that close.
"This could get bumpy."
"I'll be fine. Let's just go."
"If you say so." Looking doubtful, she shoved the Jeep into gear, tightened her grip on the wheel and backed up.
"Try going down by that tree." He pointed to an alder tree still visible on the bank downstream.
"All right."
He gritted his teeth as the Jeep bumped over the rocky ground to the bank, which sloped gradually down to the river. The moon hadn't risen yet, but the headlights cut through the mounting darkness. The water gleamed as it floated past.
Jordan stopped and adjusted her hands on the wheel. Her knuckles shone in the dashboard's light and she inhaled sharply. "Here goes."
The Jeep tipped, and she quickly slammed on the brakes, throwing him forward. "I'm sorry!" she gasped as he hit the dashboard.
Pain stabbed his shoulder, and nausea flooded his gut. Stifling a groan, he shoved himself back in his seat. "Keep going."
She edged up her foot and they rushed ahead, bumped over a rock, then stopped. Feeling dazed, he sucked in his breath. "You're doing great," he ground out.
She slanted him a skeptical glance. "Sure, as long as you don't mind getting whiplash."
They sped forward again, dropped into a pothole, tipped to the side and jolted out. Struggling for balance, Cade braced his boot against the dashboard.
The Jeep lurched over another rock and stopped abruptly, ramming his knee to his chest. A spasm racked his shoulder and he fought down another groan. Forget whiplash. If she kept this up, he'd pass out before they reached the bottom.
But a few feet later, the bank mercifully flattened, and she let up on the brakes. The Jeep bounced down to the riverbed then stopped with a sudden jerk.
They both exhaled. A second later, her gaze met his. "Stage one. Now to get us through that water."
Cade's mouth curved up, and he felt a glimmer of pride, much like he did for his rookies. Despite her inexperience and fear, she'd pulled through.
"Any special route I should take?" she asked.
He turned his attention back to the river. The headlights lit the swirling current but the water beyond that was nearly black. "Not that I can tell. Get closer and we'll see how it looks."
"All right." Small stones and branches crunched under the tires as she drove forward. The Jeep jostled over the uneven ground, but didn't slip. When they reached the water, she braked.
He peered through the windshield. The water trickled harmlessly along the river's edges, skirting rocks and splitting into shallow side streams. But yards of dark, unbroken water stretched across the center.
"You think we can cross it?" she asked, her voice tight.
"We'll find out soon enough." His gaze met hers and he saw the anxiety crowding her eyes. "Hey." He lifted his hand to touch her, to stroke away the worry and soothe the rapid drum of her pulse. Then he stopped. She wasn't his to touch anymore.
He dropped his hand to his knee. "You'll do fine."
"Right." She managed a strained smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and flicked her gaze back to the river. Then she sat up straighter, eased out the clutch and drove in.
Cade stuck his head out the window to watch. The water barely moistened the hubcaps. "It's just a few inches deep."
"Should I go faster?"
"No, this is good."
The Jeep rolled steadily forward, swaying and bumping over rocks. The smell of water spread through the cooling night air. He glanced at Jordan and saw that she'd glued both hands to the wheel. "You're doing great."
"I don't know." She nibbled her lip. "I wish we didn't have so far to go."
"We'll get through it."
She shot him a quick glance. "You think so? It looks like it's getting deeper."
"Yeah." Ignoring his throbbing shoulder, he leaned out the window again. The water had inched to the top of the hubcaps. "But we're still okay." At least they hadn't sunk into mud.
They drove further into the river, and the water continued to rise. The Jeep tipped on a rock, and she righted it with a splash.
"Cade..."
"I know." He frowned at the water creeping toward the axle, then shifted his gaze to the shore. Hell. They weren't going to make it after all.
Resigned, he pulled his head back inside. "Okay, we'd better turn ar---"
A metallic screech rent the air, and the Jeep abruptly stopped. Oh, hell.
"What happened?" Jordan asked, her voice high. "What did we hit?"
"A rock, probably." Under the water where they couldn't see it.
"Oh, God."
He kept his tone calm. "It's all right. Let's try backing up and see if we can dislodge it."
She shoved the gearshift into Reverse and pressed on the gas. The tires spun, but the Jeep didn't move. She stopped, inhaled sharply, then tried again.
"Not too fast." He hung his head out the window as water streamed up the door. "Okay, a little harder."
She hit the gas and the engine's fan came on. "Not too much," he cautioned. She slowed, but then the engine sputtered and missed. "Stop!" He jerked his head back inside.
"What's wrong?" Jordan asked. The Jeep vibrated roughly, coughing and stumbling badly.
"Water probably got into the engine."
"Water? But how do we---"
The vehicle bucked, jolting them forward, then died.
The river's rush filled the sudden silence. Water splashed past in the light of the Jeep's high beams. "Try to start it," he said.
She cranked the engine. It churned and whined in the silence. She turned it off and tried again.
"You might as well stop," he finally said when it didn't catch. "We'll have to let it dry out."
"How long will that take?"
"Hard to say. A few hours maybe."
"A few hours!" Her gaze flew to his. "But we can't just sit here and wait."
"No." He kept his gaze steady on hers. "We need to keep going. We'll come back later and tow the Jeep."
She bit her lip as that shock registered, and tension tightened her elegant jaw. But after several long seconds, she nodded. "So how do you want to do this?"
His respect for her rose. She was a fighter; he'd give her that much. Despite the setback, she didn't balk.
He returned his gaze to the river. "We can use the rope. We'll tie it off to the bumper."
"You think it's that deep?"
"Probably not, but the rocks could be slick. We'll hold on to it for balance."
"What about the dog?"
"He can swim."
"But what if he goes the wrong way? He might head back toward the fire."
He frowned back at the dog huddled behind his seat. The dog's worried gaze lifted to his. "I've still got that beef jerky in my bag. Won't he follow the smell of that?"
"Not if he's scared." She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, her forehead wrinkled in concentration. "I can carry him across first, then come back and help with the bags."
The muscles along his jaw flexed. He wasn't that damn helpless. "I'll carry the bags. And if you're that worried about the dog, tie him to the other end of the rope. Then you can pull him along."
"That's a great idea." Her lips curved, and her blatant approval blocked the air in his lungs.
And without warning, the old dizziness seeped through his brain. That heady, off-kilter feeling that made him want to promise the moon. To do anything to feel her admiration, her respect.
Jordan grabbed her bag from the backseat and stuffed her purse inside. Then she propped it between the seats and picked up the rope. "Are you going to take off your boots?"
Still feeling light-headed, he pulled his attention back to the problem at hand. "No, the rocks could be sharp."
"Then I'll keep my tennis shoes on." She handed him the rope, then pushed her seat farther back. Rising to one knee, she bent and lifted the dog. "You really do stink," she said as she slid with him into her seat. She kissed the top of his head and rubbed his ears. "But we're still not going to leave you."
She shot Cade a grin. "At least he'll get a bath out of this."
Impressed that she could joke under pressure, he shook his head. She was a trooper, all right. And that lethal combination of feminine warmth and grit made her hard to resist.
"Tie this to his collar." He handed her the end of the rope. "We'll hook the other end to the bumper and hold on to that."
"Got it." She threaded the rope under the dog's collar and secured the knot. Then she took a deep breath to gather her courage and pushed on her door. It didn't budge, so she shoved again, hard.
The door swung slowly open and she looked out. The dark, swirling water lapped at the floorboards, and dread spiked through her nerves. Good God, she didn't want to do this.
But Cade needed her help, and so did the dog. She sucked in her breath and hopped out. And shrieked.
"Cold?" Cade asked.
"No, it's great," she lied, shivering wildly. "Jump right in."
Cade's low chuckle drifted on the night air. She turned, set the dog back on her seat and grabbed the rope. "You stay here," she told the dog. Then she looked at Cade. He'd attached the headlamp to his hard hat and put it on.
"I'll tie the other end to the bumper," she said. "I'll come back for my bag and the dog."
Locking her jaw against the cold, she waded to the front of the Jeep. The icy water soaked through her lightweight sneakers and plastered her jeans to her calves.
Cade's door swung open, then closed. "You were right about the stones," she said as he came over. Even with her shoes on, she could feel them poking her feet.
She threaded the rope around the bumper and knotted it several times. She worked quickly, but her hands grew stiff from the cold. Cade switched on his headlamp for extra light.
"Let's see." He grabbed the rope near the knots and pulled. "Looks good."
A sense of victory spread through her, and she grinned. Maybe tying a few knots wasn't important, but at least she'd done something right.
Cade had both bags slung over his good shoulder. "Here," she said, reaching up. "I'll take mine."
"Never mind. I've got it."
"Don't be silly." Especially since he needed that arm for the rope.
"I said I've got it."
She recognized that stubborn tone. "Fine. I'll get the dog." Her teeth chattering now, she waded slowly around her door to the seat.
"Here we go." She lifted the trembling dog, then paused to scratch his ear. "You know, you're pretty heavy for someone so skinny." Checking to making sure his rope didn't catch, she stepped back and closed the door.
Cade waited in the path of the headlights, the rest of the rope in his hand. "I'll go first," he said. He played out a few feet of line. "Hang on to this part behind me. And you might as well set down the dog. He can swim."
"In a minute." She clutched the shaking dog tighter and rubbed her cheek on his head. She didn't know who needed the comfort more, the dog or herself. "We'll get through this together," she whispered.
Cade waited until she grabbed the rope behind him, then started walking toward shore. She followed in his wake, letting the cold rope slide through her hand. The uneven rocks made it hard to stay upright and she tightened her grip on the dog. "We're okay," she said, more to herself than to him.
The current pushed against her knees as she waded along. She tried not to think about the dark, rushing water turning her feet to ice. She focused instead on Cade's strong back, relying on him to guide her.
Cade stopped a few yards later and waited for her to catch up. "You okay?"
"Yes." But she knew they'd freeze unless they picked up the pace. "I'd better put the dog down, though." She reluctantly set him in the water and tugged on the line, relieved when he paddled beside her. "Good boy!"
They started walking again. It was easier moving without the dog in her arms, but the frigid water now crept up her thighs. She waded faster, forcing herself to breathe deeply despite the chills ravaging her body.
But God, it was cold. And the river was wider than she'd thought. For an eternity, she trudged behind Cade, slipping and splashing over the rocks, her teeth chattering nonstop. Then the water lapped her waist, and she gasped.
Cade stopped. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She locked her jaw to stop the clacking and shook her head.
He still looked at her. "You sure you're okay?"
"I'm f-f-fine. Just c-c-cold."
"Hell." He looked ahead at the bank. "We don't have too far to go."
But she knew she was slowing him down. He was already injured---badly, she suspected. He couldn't afford to get chilled.
But the river kept getting deeper. She glanced at the bags dangling from his muscled shoulder. The bags with all their dry clothes. "Are you sure I can't---"
"I've got them," he said, his voice hard. "Now get moving before you freeze."
He let go of the rope and hoisted the bags higher on his shoulder with his good hand. "You'll have to lead," he added. "I need to hold up the bags."
Too cold to argue, she plodded past him, then instantly slowed her pace. "Th-this is hard." With no one to guide her, she had to work to find the best footing, especially since a mistake could jeopardize Cade.
She stumbled, then quickly righted herself. It was definitely easier to rely on Cade, and not just to get through the river. She'd depended on him for so many things during their marriage. Companionship, friendship, love...Maybe she'd relied on him too much?
Jolted by that thought, she stopped.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"N-n-nothing."
"Do you want to wear my hard hat?"
"I can s-s-see." She forced herself to continue walking. This wasn't the time to mull over their marriage. She needed to get them out of this river before they froze.
And God, it was cold. Shivers coursed through her body. Her teeth chattered so hard she couldn't think. She could only imagine how miserable Cade felt with his injuries.
She slipped and slid over a jumble of rocks, struggling to maintain her balance. The current pushed relentlessly against her, and she had to fight not to float downstream. But at least the dog had stayed with her. She tightened her grip on the makeshift leash.
Yards later, the rocks leveled out, making it easier to walk. But just as she started to relax, the rope ran out. She stopped.
"Forget the rope," Cade said from behind her. "We don't need it anymore."
She looked up in surprise. He was right. They'd almost crossed the river. And the water had dropped to her waist.
"You go ahead," she said. "I n-n-need to un-t-t-tie the dog."
"Forget it. We stay together."
"B-b-but---"
"Just hurry up."
Shaking, she pulled the dog into her arms, then struggled to untie the rope. Her stiff fingers couldn't work the wet knot.
"Take off his collar," Cade suggested.
She switched her attention to the buckle, but even that proved too much for her frozen hands. "I c-c-can't." Her desperation rose.
"There's a knife on my belt," he said. "In the sheath. Pull it out and cut the rope."
Shivering, she released the dog, and he treaded water beside her. Cade turned to give her access to his belt. Still shaking, she stuck her numb hand into the sheath and grasped the knife. Then she pulled it out.
And promptly dropped it.
Oh, God. She stared at the water in horror. It was too dark to see to the bottom. She lifted her stunned gaze to Cade.
"I'll get it," he said. "Here. Hold the bags for a minute."
She reached for the bags, then stopped. What was she doing? Cade was hurt. He shouldn't be getting wet. And what if he bumped his injured shoulder? She could search for the knife better than he could. Before he could stop her, she took a deep breath and plunged.
Completely submerged now, she groped blindly along the bottom with her hands. She felt rocks and silt, but not the knife. The current must have pushed it downstream. She rose, sucked in another breath of air, and sank back down.
This time, she swept the area a few feet away. She crawled along the rocks, running her hands over the bottom. Suddenly, the back of her hand brushed the knife. Relieved, she lunged forward and grabbed it, then stood.
Water sluiced over her face as she triumphantly brandished her prize. Cade took it from her shaking hand.
"Hold the rope so I can cut it," he said, sounding angry.
She clutched the dog's rope, and he sawed it off. "All right, let's go." He stuck the knife in his sheath and grabbed her arm.
Blinking back the water from her eyes, she started moving. But she could hardly feel her feet anymore, let alone keep pace with Cade. She stumbled, and he jerked her upright.
"The d-d-dog---"
"He's coming. Now hurry up." Cade picked up the pace and she couldn't turn back to check. Dazed, her body convulsing with shivers, she fought to keep up.
Seconds later, the water fell to her knees. Then suddenly, it was gone. Her teeth clacking hard now, she staggered across the dry rocks. Water squished through her shoes. The wind whipped her wet hair across her face, lashing her frozen skin.
The dog trotted beside her, then paused to shake. Relief swept through her. He'd survived.
She stopped, but Cade nudged her forward. "Keep moving. Over to those trees." He bumped her again, and she stumbled up the grassy bank to a cluster of pines.
"Stop," he said. "Now start taking off those wet clothes."
"The d-d-dog..."
"I'll get him." He dropped the bags to the ground, pulled out his radio and turned away.
Too numb to move, she watched him stride toward the river. A huge swell of emotion overcame her, cramping her chest. His shoulder had to ache unbearably. And he was wet, too; he had to feel terribly cold.
And yet, he'd carried their bags. He'd helped her to shore. And he still continued to work.
Not for her sake, at least not anymore. No, not because of her. In spite of her.
Because he was that kind of man.
The lump in her throat grew thicker, and feelings she couldn't name wadded her chest. "C-C-Cade," she stammered. He paused and looked back. "Thank you."
His gaze stayed on hers for an endless moment. The night stilled, and even her heart seemed to cease beating. Then he nodded and turned away.
T he cool wind tunneled through the narrow valley as Cade tramped back toward the stand of pines, the wet dog at his heels. He'd radioed dispatch to give them his position and get an update on the fire. Unfortunately, their news hadn't reassured him. The wind had increased and could switch directions at any time.
The wind gusted just then, creaking the pines overhead, and unease spread through his gut. Crossing the river had bought them some time, but they couldn't afford to linger. If the fire spread their way, sparks could blow across the river and torch the dry trees.
The dog stopped and shook, then trotted ahead of him to the cluster of pines. Jordan huddled in the windbreak, shivering in her wet clothes. Her dripping hair clung to her pale cheeks, and her lips trembled with cold.
He scowled. "Why didn't you change out of those clothes?"
She moved her mouth, then shook her head. Hell. She was colder than he'd thought. And no wonder. His gut still tensed at the thought of her diving into that river to get the knife.
Still swearing, he picked up their bags and dropped them at her feet. Unless he warmed her up, she'd never outrun that fire. But to do that, he had to get her into dry clothes.
Resigned to the delay, he dropped to one knee beside her bag. Using his good hand, he unzipped it, then pulled out a blanket and towel. Then he rummaged back through it again, this time netting a pair of socks, a T-shirt and jeans. And underwear. His hand clenched the strips of white lace, and he felt the blow to his gut.
So, she still wore that damn sexy underwear. Satin and lace, his biggest weakness. He dragged in an unsteady breath.
And forced his mind to focus on the problem at hand---getting her warmed up so they could escape the fire. Since she was too cold to move, he scooted over and lifted her foot to his lap. Still using one hand, he loosened the wet laces and pulled off her soaked shoe and sock. He did the same to the other.
He rose. "Now stand up so I can help take off those clothes."
"I c-c-can d-d-do..."
"No, you can't. Now stand up." Trying not to think of this sexually, he pulled her to her feet. He kept his mind carefully blank as he grabbed the hem of her wet shirt and pulled up. She crossed her arms to stop him.
"I could use some help here," he said.
"C-c-cold."
"Come on. It'll only be cold for a minute."
"K-k-kay." She straightened her arms, and he yanked the shirt over her head.
Despite his intentions, his gaze dropped to her full breasts straining against the wet bra. The moonlight shimmered on her delicate skin, darkening the valley between the soft swells.
"Turn around," he said, his voice hard. She pulled her wet hair from her shoulder and turned. But now her smooth, bare back gleamed before him, and without warning, memories crowded in, of undressing before the woodstove. Of sliding kisses down that delicate neck. Of cupping her soft, full breasts in his hands and making her moan....
He flicked open the clasp on her bra. She shrugged it off and crossed her arms, but not before the sight of her breasts seared his brain---the smooth curves shadowed in moonlight, the nipples tight with cold. The water beading on the firm flesh then trickling to her flat belly.
His pulse drumming, he grabbed the towel and draped it over her head. "Wipe your hair. It's dripping."
The blood surged hard in his brain as he picked up her dry clothes and faced her again. She dropped the towel and he slung the T-shirt over her head, struggling to get her arms in the sleeves.
He tried not to look at her swaying breasts, to focus instead on the pain in his shoulder and the searing ache in his ribs. But hell, he was only human.
And she did have beautiful breasts. Full and lush, with creamy, pebbled nipples. Generous enough to fill his big hands.
And the memory of how those breasts felt in his palms came rushing back. Soft and slick. Arousing. Fighting the urge to touch her, he clenched his hand into a fist.
"We forgot the bra," he croaked.
"L...l...later." She pulled down her T-shirt, but the fabric clinging to her naked breasts did nothing to diminish his hunger. His mind banked down. His pulse ran ragged through his brain.
And he still had to take off her jeans.
Forcing air into his lungs, he moved closer and reached for the waistband. His hand shaking, he popped the snap and pulled down the zipper, and the electric sound tore through the night. Then he inched the wet pants down her legs.
He dropped to one knee, and she clutched his shoulder for balance. He welcomed the jolt of pain, especially since he was now eye-level with a scrap of soaked satin. Hardly breathing, he jerked the jeans off her legs.
He rose to his feet, her wet jeans balled in his hand. And God help him, but he couldn't pull off that underwear. Because if he reached for her, he wouldn't stop.
Knowing what she'd see if he met her gaze, he kept his eyes averted. "Can you manage?" he ground out.
"Yes."
Still not daring to look at her, he turned around, but his ears stayed attuned to every movement. Every rustle brought visions to his mind, of memories he'd struggled to banish. His tension mounting, he picked up the dry lace and waited.
"Ok-kay." She stopped moving, and he dragged himself around. He tried not to look; he really did. But his gaze still fell to the thatch of dark hair between her thighs, down her long, slender legs and back up.
And it was his bad luck that his nerves leaped at the sight, and his body grew instantly hard.
She reached for the underwear, her hand shaking. He handed it over and turned away. He forced himself to look at the dog nosing around the trees. The moon rising through the thrashing pines. The river winding low on its banks.
"I'm d-done." He turned back, but the damn lace wasn't much better. His face rigid, he knelt and held open her jeans, but getting her inside them took forever. She balanced herself by holding on to his good shoulder, practically pulling his face in her lap. A sweat broke out on his brow.
He stood, and together they pulled up the jeans. He tried not to think about how close she was standing, about how with one short tug, he could haul her into his arms.
He jerked up the zipper and reached for the snap. His knuckles brushed her soft stomach and she gasped. Her gaze locked on his.
The air stalled in his lungs. She stood just inches away, her dark, sultry eyes hot on his. He smelled the velvet of her skin, the dampness of her hair, and felt the old urgency rise between them. His gaze dropped to her lips, and memories roared through his brain of staggering heat and pleasure.
The sound of the snap closing exploded like a bomb in the silence. He sucked in his breath and stepped back. Almost blindly, he bent and pulled his sweatshirt from his bag, then yanked it over her head. It reached her thighs, covering her like a sack. It didn't help.
He handed her the dry socks. "Can you put these on?" She nodded and lowered herself to the ground.
Struggling to control his libido, he again turned his back. So his desire for her hadn't faded. It didn't mean a damn thing, except that he was alive. Nothing had changed between them, or ever would. She couldn't live with a smokejumper. And he wouldn't change his identity for anyone, no matter how great their sex life had been.
His resolve hardening, he shoved the past where it belonged and turned his mind to what mattered---getting them out of the forest.
But the truth was that they couldn't continue in this condition. She needed to warm up. And although he hated to admit it, his head ached like hell. His shoulder felt wrenched from its socket, and his ribs burned whenever he breathed.
He picked up the blanket and draped it awkwardly over her shoulders. She gave him a grateful smile.
Keeping a safe distance between them, he sat down beside her and pulled off his hard hat. He took his canteen from his bag and rummaged for his bottle of ibuprofen, hoping to take the edge off his pain. When he found it, he thumbed off the plastic lid, tapped a few into his mouth, and swallowed them down with water.
He glanced at Jordan. "Are you hungry?"
Snuggled deep in the blanket now, she shook her head. His stomach rumbled, but food could wait. He needed to change out of his wet pants before he got chilled. Jordan wasn't in any condition to help him, and he doubted he could stand her soft hands on him if she were.
"We'll rest here for a while," he said. He began unlacing his boots.
"B-b-but the f-f-fire..."
"We're safe enough for now. We've got the river behind us and the wind's still pushing west. We can rest for an hour and then start hiking again."
"Your arm..."
"Later, when you've warmed up. You can help lace my boots up, too."
She looked at him for a long moment, as if she wanted to argue, then finally slanted her head. He tugged off his wet boots and socks.
He grabbed some dry clothes from his bag, then rose again. "I'm going to change." He turned his back to her and stepped away.
Using one hand, he stripped off his wet pants and briefs, and tossed them aside. The movement jostled his shoulder, but he ignored the deepening pain.
Then he picked up his dry briefs and paused. How was he going to manage this?
"You n-n-need help?" Jordan asked.
He froze. No way in hell was he was letting her help, especially after seeing her naked. He'd barely controlled his reaction to her then. "I can do it." Hoping she wasn't watching, he awkwardly inched the briefs into place.
His pants always hung loose during the season, thanks to the weight he dropped fighting fire, so he pulled them on without problems. He secured the zipper and button, and turned around. He'd have to go without the belt.
He sat back down and grabbed a pair of dry socks from his bag. "Any chance you can help with these?"
"Sure." Still wrapped in the blanket, she rose to her knees. Her hands trembled as she picked up his socks and unrolled them. He noticed her gaze didn't quite meet his.
He dusted the pine needles from the soles of his feet. "Are you any warmer?"
"A l-l-little." Her dark head bent over as she pulled the first sock over his foot.
He flinched. "Your hands are still cold."
"S-s-sorry." Still not meeting his gaze, she adjusted the sock.
"You can wear my gloves," he said. "They're dirty, but they might keep your hands warm."
"Okay." Her wet hair swung forward as she started on the other foot. He frowned. Aside from his hard hat, he didn't have anything to warm her head. And they couldn't risk building a campfire.
She finished pulling up his sock and sat back.
"Thanks," he said. "I'll put my boots on later." Maybe she'd be warm enough by then to help him lace them.
He tossed her his work gloves, then pulled more clothes from his bag to form a long pillow. He placed the radio close by, switching to the scanning position for updates.
Jordan settled back down beside him. "C-come here, sweetie," she called to the dog. He wandered over, and she patted the ground.
"We'll need to share the blanket to keep warm," Cade said.
"Ok-k-kay." She unwrapped the blanket. He scooted closer, and she helped smooth it over their legs. He couldn't hold her with his injured shoulder, but his body would still generate heat.
Stifling a groan, he lowered his back to the ground. He lay flat on the uneven surface, his right arm propped on his chest. His shoulder ached worse than when the tree had crushed it, and a dull pain pressed on his skull. He hoped to God the ibuprofen worked fast.
The dog paused a few yards from Jordan and began turning in little circles. After several rotations, he plopped down and buried his nose in his tail. Then he let out a sigh.
"G-g-good d-d-dog." She lay back and pulled the blanket to her chin.
Her concern for the stray dog touched him. He'd always admired that about her, that she really cared about others---animals, the elderly, even him. Or so he'd believed.
She shivered, and he moved closer so that their shoulders touched. The moonlight sifted through the pine trees and outlined the curve of her cheeks.
He forced his gaze away. His breathing slowed. And the fatigue he'd been fighting settled in, creeping through his heart and lowering his defenses. Rushing his mind back to the past.
God, he'd been crazy about this woman. She'd been everything he'd ever dreamed of. Gentle and tender. Warm and funny. Sexy as hell, with a passion that left him reeling.
And he'd been so sure he'd found the one woman who understood him, the one who really cared.
He'd been wrong.
But now, lying beside her and listening to her breathing softly, it was hard to hold on to the bitterness. Hard to forget the good parts of their marriage. The months in the cabin. The easy camaraderie. The trust.
He gazed up at the stars between the swaying treetops and listened to the rush of the river. And wondered for the hundredth time what had gone wrong, and why she'd left him.
His chest cramped, and for a terrible moment, he let himself relive the past. The incredulity. The disbelief. The bitter hurt and rage.
She'd hated being alone; he knew that. They'd moved from the cabin to Missoula during the fire season so she could find work and make friends.
But he'd never expected her to leave. He'd been stunned, shocked. Unable to believe that she'd gone, that something that special to him meant so little to her, and that she could toss it away. Or that he'd misjudged her so completely.
He closed his eyes and listened to her drift into sleep, just as he had years ago. So why had she left? A lost, lonely feeling weighted his heart.
Because even after all this time, he still didn't know the answer.
Jordan woke a short time later to sounds of Cade rustling through his bag. She snuggled deeper into the blanket, relishing the heat now spreading through her body, thanks to her dry clothes and Cade.
A sudden vision popped into her mind of him removing her clothes. Her shirt and bra, her pants...Her cheeks burned. Not that he'd had much choice. She'd been too cold to do it herself. But still...
Thankfully, he'd been all business---except for that one incredible moment when their eyes had met. Her heart fluttered wildly. She'd probably imagined that scorching look. Delirium induced by the cold.
But she hadn't imagined his naked backside. Her heart jerked, then careened off her rib cage. She hadn't intended to look, but his struggles had caught her attention. And then she couldn't tear her gaze away. The powerful lines of his legs, the solid muscles...
She swallowed hard. Cade was one gorgeous man. And at least she had finally warmed up!
Her nerves humming now, she moved her stiff body under the blanket. Fatigue weighted her muscles. She wanted to roll over and sleep until morning, but she knew they needed to go. That fire was dangerously close.
She forced herself to sit up. "Are we leaving now?"
He stilled, then continued rummaging in his bag. "In a minute."
His low voice rumbled through the night, and she shivered. God, she loved that voice, that deep, husky timbre that grew even rougher when they made love.
"You want some beef jerky?" he asked.
"Sure." Their gazes met, and his eyes, dark in the silvery moonlight, burned into hers. Her heart stopped. Oh, God. She hadn't imagined that look after all.
But then he turned his head, pulled a bag of jerky from his PG bag and set it down between them. "I've got some tuna and coffee we can have later, once we climb that next ridge."
She sucked air into her lungs. "I can make sandwiches, too." She removed Cade's leather work gloves, took a strip of jerky from the bag and tossed it to the dog. He grabbed it and trotted away.
And she fought to regain her composure. So she still felt attracted to Cade. And why shouldn't she be? He was a wildly exciting man.
Her heart fluttered. Exciting didn't begin to describe him. Her pulse drummed and leaped at the memories. That shocking hunger, the desperate need...
She bit off a piece of jerky, determined not to go down that treacherous trail. Thanks to Cade, she knew about thrilling men. The pleasure might be exquisite, but the price of that rapture was pain.
And she had to keep her priorities straight. She wanted stability when she married again, a man who came home every night. A man who cared more about her than his job. Not just passion, no matter how exhilarating it felt.
Determined to keep her mind on track, she finished the jerky and rose. She folded the blanket and stuffed it into her bag, then pulled out the plastic bowl. "Do you mind if I give some of your water to the dog?"
"Help yourself. You should probably drink some, too."
"I'm okay." She handed the bowl to Cade. He filled it and she set it down a few feet away. "Come on, sweetie," she called to the dog. When he trotted over, she smiled. "We need to give you a name."
She needed to get him on a leash, too. She couldn't risk him wandering off. But they'd cut off that rope in the river.
She eyed the belt Cade had tossed beside his bag. "Can I borrow your belt to make a leash for the dog? I can tie a sock to one end and hook it to his collar."
"Go ahead."
While the dog drank, she busied herself with the makeshift leash. The result wasn't pretty, but she thought it would hold. With that done, she collected her wet clothes and stuck them in her bag. Then she stepped from Cade's view to take care of necessities and put on a bra.
When she returned, Cade was tapping pills into his mouth. He chased them down with a swallow of water.
And suddenly, she felt guilty. He'd done so much for her, and she hadn't helped him one bit. "I can lace your boots now," she said.
"All right."
He rose to his feet in one movement, and she couldn't help but admire his strength. And his energy. He had to be more tired than she was, yet it didn't slow him down. Of course, his stamina had always impressed her....
He stepped into his wet leather boots. Her face flaming, she knelt in front of him and began lacing. "Can you hold the pants out of the way?"
He pulled up his pant leg, and she secured the knot. "Is that tight enough?"
"Yeah."
She tugged his pants over the top of the high-topped boot, then started on the other. The smokejumping boots brought back other memories, of Cade replacing the laces and oiling the leather, her shock at learning how much they cost. "I hope the river didn't ruin your boots," she said.
"They'll be fine. They've been wet before."
She secured the second knot and stood. "How about that sling for your arm?"
"All right."
She grabbed the towel she'd used to dry her hair. "This is still damp, but it's probably long enough for a sling."
He slanted his head. "We need to bandage my collarbone first, to keep it in position."
"How do we do that?"
He knelt and pulled two long triangular pieces of cotton from his first aid kit. "Here. Roll these cravats lengthwise, then tie the ends together."
She knelt beside him and started rolling. "Like this?"
"Yeah, that's good."
When she'd rolled both pieces, she tied them together to form a long rope. "Now what?"
"Now we put it on." He rose. "But I need to take off this shirt."
She knew he had a T-shirt underneath, but the night air was still cool. "Won't you be cold?"
"Not once we start hiking. It's mostly uphill." He fumbled to undo the buttons with one hand.
She stood. "Here, let me." At five-nine, she was tall, but he topped her by a good six inches, even more with his lug-soled boots on. She reached up to unbutton his shirt.
The intimacy of the act made her face burn, and she kept her gaze averted. He'd completely undressed her, for goodness' sake. Surely she could take off his shirt without falling apart.
Gathering her composure, she undid the last button and gently peeled back the shirt. The biceps bulging beneath his short-sleeved T-shirt caught her off guard. He'd always been strong, but years of wielding a chain saw had built real bulk.
But this wasn't the time to admire his muscles. She set his fire shirt on his PG bag, picked up the rolled cloth and cleared her throat. "Okay, what now?"
"Now you tie that around my chest to hold my shoulder in place. Make a figure eight."
"You'll have to kneel down so I can reach your shoulder."
He lowered himself to one knee, then helped her wind the cloth under one arm and over the other until they'd formed a figure eight. The resulting harness pulled his shoulder straight back. "How does that feel?"
"About right. Go ahead and tie it."
"So, how did you get hurt?" she asked as she fastened the ends together.
She thought at first he wouldn't answer, but then his head turned and his gaze met hers. "A snag fell---it was burning---and the rookie froze. So I pushed him out of the way."
She paused to picture that, and her heart skipped. "You saved his life."
He tilted his head, as if saving the man's life were nothing, and shifted his gaze away. And once again, she glimpsed that part of him she'd never acknowledged, even though she'd always sensed it was there. His enormous courage. His loyalty to his men. And she knew without a doubt that he'd do anything to help them, just as he had for her.
Except the one thing she'd asked him to do---stop smokejumping.
A tight feeling gathered in her chest. "So, the tree fell on you instead?"
"Not directly. The branches just glanced off my shoulder."
And nearly killed him, she suspected. "I see." Her throat thick, she lifted the towel and caught it under his arm. So he'd nearly died saving his buddy.
Their gazes met again, and for a moment, she was lost in those vibrant eyes. And she saw the need in him, the desire to save and protect. But who watched over him? Who helped him in return? Even a hero needed someone to lean on, someone to give him comfort.
Someone like her.
Seconds ticked by. She inhaled his masculine scent, felt the heat from his body rise.
And a yearning swelled inside her, a fierce desire to caress him. To soothe the tension in that hard jaw and ease his pain.
But he wasn't her husband anymore---because she'd left him. Feeling guilty, she straightened and pulled the ends of the towel to his shoulder. And felt the enormous strength of those muscles as she tied the knot on the sling.
He was tough, all right, and he was willing to bear the weight of the world. Including her.
But the one thing he'd asked in return---that she wait for him---was the only thing she couldn't do.
And she still needed to tell him why.
Feeling raw, she stepped away and grabbed the leash. "I guess we'd better go."
T he old mining road crisscrossed the mountain in a series of switchbacks as it inched its way toward the ridge. Cade led the way up the rocky trail, his headlamp carving a narrow path through the darkness. Breathing heavily, Jordan straggled a few yards behind him.
After listening to the chatter on the radio all night, he knew they needed to hurry. Come daybreak, the wind would kick up, and all hell would break loose on the mountain. He didn't want to be here when it did.
But Jordan couldn't hike any faster. He stopped and waited for her to catch up. Panting loudly, she staggered to a halt beside him, then braced her hands on her knees and gasped for air.
"How are you doing?" He clicked off his headlamp to preserve the batteries, then blinked to adjust his eyes to the moonlight.
"Fine." Still breathing hard, she straightened. "But I can't believe how steep this is. Every time the road turns, I think it'll level out, but it just keeps going up." She wiped the sweat from her face with her sleeve. "And I thought I was in shape."
He didn't want to think about her shape. He'd struggled to erase the image of her naked body from his mind all night. "At least we've got a road to follow. You should try hiking through the brush like we do on a packout. And that's with a hundred pounds on our backs."
"Your equipment weighs that much?"
"Usually more." He'd once lugged a hundred and twenty pounds for twelve miles over steep terrain. But at least he'd been wearing good boots. He glanced down at her canvas shoes. "How are your feet holding up?"
"They'll survive."
He hoped so. Hiking on these rocks with thin shoes had to hurt. "Are you thirsty?"
"Not yet." Her breathing still labored, she lifted her thick, wavy hair and bared her neck to the moonlight. Without warning, that image blazed hot in his mind, of her naked back, her long, slender legs, the provocative curve of breasts. His body went instantly hard.
Still connected to his makeshift leash, the dog lay down in the dirt beside her. Jordan let down her hair and bent to scratch him. "You're such a good dog," she cooed.
Her sultry voice plucked at his nerves. And more memories surfaced, of her whispering to him in the darkness. The heat as she moved against him. The feel of her soft lips on his.
She'd been an amazing lover. Sensual. Demanding. Hell, she'd been so damn hot that he still fantasized about her after all these years.
And that ticked him off. Scowling, he jerked his mind back to business---getting them off this mountain. He impatiently glanced at his watch. "The sun will come up in another hour. If you can last that long, we'll wait and eat then."
"I'm fine."
She straightened, and he eyed the bag on her shoulder. "I can carry that."
"That's okay. I've got it."
"It's just going to tire you out."
"Not that much. Besides, you're injured."
His stomach clenched at the reminder. Even after a handful of ibuprofen, his collarbone and ribs ached like hell---far more than they should for a minor injury. "A couple of lightweight bags won't do me in."
Her chin rose. "And I can do my part."
He studied the stubborn set to her jaw. Her feet had to be killing her, but she intended to pull her weight. And no matter what she'd done in the past, that determination impressed him.
"All right. Just let me know when you're tired." He clicked on his headlamp. "Are you ready?"
"Yes."
He continued hiking uphill, keeping his pace slow for her sake. She was a trooper, all right. But then, she'd always struck him that way.
Which had surprised him at first, considering how she'd grown up. The only child of a Coast Guard admiral, she'd lived in upscale communities in the nicest parts of the country, or in stately homes on base, whereas his family had eked out a hard-scrabble existence in the driest part of Montana, spending every cent they earned on the ranch.
And yet, despite her sheltered background, she had chipped right in, stacking wood and washing clothes at the cabin. She'd never made demands, never complained, at least not about the rough work.
The road switched back again, and he paused for her to catch up. "I'm fine," she wheezed, anticipating his question.
He checked his watch and glanced at the patch of sky visible through the trees. It still looked dark but most of the stars had disappeared. "It's almost sunrise. We'll look for a place to rest."
Knowing she was nearing her limit, he slowed his pace. A quarter mile later, he spotted a long, low boulder on the downhill side of the road overlooking the still-darkened valley. "This looks good."
"Great." Panting heavily, she staggered through the weeds to the boulder and sat. Still tethered to the leash, the dog plopped down in the grass beside her.
Cade followed and settled next to her on the rock. He swung the bags off his shoulder and handed her his canteen.
"Thanks." She dragged in another breath, then tipped her head back and drank.
He turned his attention to the valley below them. He couldn't make out any shapes yet; in the predawn light, the trees blurred together in an inky smear. But in the east, a finger of fire crept into view. Deep orange and red, it shimmered in the fading darkness. He stared at it, mesmerized by the sight.
"The fire's beautiful, isn't it?" Jordan said.
"Yeah. It's something to watch." But it could turn deadly, especially when the winds whipped it up.
He shifted his gaze to the sky as the minutes passed, and watched it gradually brighten to blue. Smoke streaked the emerging horizon and mixed with the pink of dawn. Time ticked away, and the dense pines turned from black to dusky green.
And suddenly, he realized that it felt good sitting here in the forest, watching the sunrise with Jordan. They hadn't talked, hadn't needed to say one word. But even after all this time, being with her still felt right, like the natural place to be.
And no way was he analyzing why. He pulled out his radio and keyed the mike. "Campbell, this is McKenzie."
He waited patiently for an answer. After their all-night fight, the bros would be eating and drinking coffee, fueling up for the long day ahead.
Trey radioed back seconds later. "For God's sake, McKenzie. Are you still out here sloughing off while the rest of us do your work?"
"You call that work?" Cade scoffed. "Talk about slackers. A Girl Scout could have put out that fire hours ago."
Trey made another rude comment, and Cade laughed. Despite the banter, they both knew he'd give anything to be on that line instead of nursing an injured shoulder. "So what's the deal on this fire?" he finally asked.
"We've built a good line up the flanks, and so far it seems to be holding. But when that wind gusts up..."
"What's the forecast?"
"Just what you'd expect."
Cade's uneasiness grew. "They sending a plane to do a recon?"
"Yeah, it should be up at any time. We'll get some mud later, too."
"I'll be listening," Cade said. "And make damned sure everyone keeps one foot in the black." An escape route didn't do any good if no one reached it in time.
When Trey signed off, Cade radioed dispatch with his position and asked them to scout for a clearing. If there was any chance of a blowup, he wanted to get off this mountain fast.
That done, he stuck the radio back in his PG bag. "You want to eat now?" he asked Jordan.
"All right."
He slid off the rock and set his bag on the ground, then began pulling out food. Jordan knelt beside him. "I've got two cans of tuna, the beef jerky and instant coffee," he said.
She pushed up the sleeves of her sweatshirt and unzipped her bag. "And I have some strawberry yogurt, two oranges, part of a loaf of French bread and some Swiss cheese and salami I bought at a deli in Missoula."
He eyed their meager stockpile. Too bad he hadn't grabbed a couple of fire packs before he left the line. That freeze-dried food would have come in handy. "I'm going to have some tuna," he decided. "You want the other can?"
She shook her head. Her hair was still damp, but dry wisps brushed her face. She tucked the loose strands behind her ear. "How long will it take us to get to that road?"
"At least another day. Maybe two."
"That long?" Small creases appeared on her forehead. "Then we'd better ration this out."
The tightness inside his chest eased. Rather than panic at their predicament, she was taking it in stride. Far better than he'd expected.
"Why don't we eat the perishables first?" she said. "I'll take the yogurt, and I'll make you a sandwich with the rest of this bread. It's already a couple of days old."
"Maybe half," he said. "We'll save the rest for later."
"All right." She repacked the remaining food in her bag and pulled out a plastic spoon. Then she took the bread from its plastic sleeve and split it in half.
While she made the sandwich, he took out his bottle of ibuprofen and downed more pills. Then he grabbed his map and climbed back up on the rock.
Jordan joined him a few seconds later and handed him the sandwich. "Thanks." He took a bite as she settled beside him. The dry bread was hard to chew, but he didn't care. By the time they reached Missoula, they would consider the stale bread a treat.
They worked silently through their breakfast, both too hungry to talk. Sparrows trilled in the pine-scented air. The valley brightened, despite the haze of smoke. Far to the south, the mountains glinted in the rising sun, their jagged faces stark above the rugged land.
"I keep forgetting how far you can see out here," Jordan finally said. "It's amazing. And we're the only people for miles."
"Yeah. I've always liked that about my job, jumping into untamed forests." Wild, unspoiled places most people never saw.
Hell, he loved everything about smokejumping. The adrenaline surge when the siren blared. The rush when he leaped from the plane. The freedom of soaring through the air and the challenge of landing. He especially liked fighting the fire. Cranking up the chain saw and choking down smoke with the bros.
The job suited him in every way. And God help him, but he never wanted to do anything else.
He couldn't. Dread crept through his nerves, but he tamped it back. He wouldn't have to change jobs. Once his shoulder healed, he'd be back on the jump list, right where he belonged.
He finished all but a small piece of sandwich, which he tossed to the ground. The dog quickly wolfed it down.
Cade drank from the canteen, then handed it back to Jordan. "You'd better drink more water."
"How much do we have?"
"Enough for now. I've got two more canteens in my bag."
Her brow creased. "Can we give some to the dog?"
"Sure. We'll refill it at the next stream."
She tipped her head back and drank. The motion sent her hair tumbling over her shoulders, baring her long, slender neck to his gaze. His eyes followed the tempting curve of her throat to the swell of her breasts beneath the sweatshirt, then back to the moisture beading her lips.
He jerked his gaze back to the mountains and dragged in air. So ten years hadn't diminished her attraction. That was his bad luck, but he'd deal with it. He definitely wouldn't drop his defenses and let her close.
Careful to keep his gaze averted, he spread the map across his lap to get his bearings. He studied it for a moment, then lifted his gaze to the west. Along the slope of the neighboring mountain, he spotted a clearing, maybe big enough for a helicopter to land.
But to get there, they'd have to dip into the valley between the two peaks. And if the fire shifted and spread to that next mountain...
His gut tightened. They could never outrun flames rushing toward them uphill. On the other hand, if the fire jumped the river, they weren't any safer here.
"Are we still in any danger?" Jordan asked, as if reading his mind.
He couldn't lie, not when both their lives were at risk, but he didn't want to scare her. "We're fine for now. They'll send up a plane soon to recon the fire. If there's a place for a chopper to land, they'll let us know. We might not need to hike to that road."
She looked down at the valley. "But which way is the fire heading?"
"West, mostly."
"But it still could turn this way?"
"In this terrain, anything can happen." He folded the map and set it aside. "But we'll be all right."
Her gaze met his and she bit her lip. He saw her anxiety, her fear, and despite his vow to keep his distance, something moved in his chest.
"Hey," he murmured. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and his finger brushed her soft cheek. The early-morning sun cast a warm glow on her skin and played along the curve of her lips.
"Cade," she whispered.
"Yeah." He slid his hand to her throat, tracing the delicate line, then cupped the nape of her neck. The feel of her skin made his heart jerk. It felt right to tug her closer.
"I...I'm glad you're here."
Strangely enough, so was he. He lifted his gaze to hers. He saw the trust in her eyes, and something else. The awareness that always sizzled between them. The heat.
His blood thickened, and he dropped his gaze to her lips. Her full, moist lips. It had been so damn hot between them. Would it still be the same?
She swayed closer, and her warm breath mingled with his. Lured by the memory of that heat, he lowered his head.
The motion jolted his shoulder, and he froze. What was he doing? This was the woman who'd dumped him, who'd gutted his heart when she left. How in the hell could he kiss her? He dropped his hand and pulled back.
Disgusted with himself, he grabbed his map and climbed off the rock. Talk about a fool. How many times did he need to learn the same lesson? She didn't want a smokejumper. She didn't want him.
And he'd better get them out of this forest fast, before he forgot that fact.
He shoved his map into his bag. "You ready to go?" He didn't look in her direction.
"Do you mind if we check the dog's paw first? I want to see why he's limping."
"All right." Still angry at his loss of control, he rose to his feet and waited.
"Come here, sweetie," she called, tugging on the leash. "Come on." She climbed off the rock and stooped down. Her soft, sultry voice quickened his pulse and he swore silently. Why couldn't he ignore this woman when he knew she'd only cause pain?
The dog limped over, his tail slowly wagging. Still cooing, Jordan scratched his chin and scooted closer. Within seconds, she had him in her arms. "Okay, you silly dog. Let's see what's wrong with that paw."
Her eyes met his and her face turned pink, as if she were thinking about that near-kiss.
Reluctant to get near her, he dragged himself closer and dropped to one knee. They both leaned over the dog's paw, their heads nearly touching, and he inched himself back.
"I'm guessing he has a thorn stuck in it," she said and her blush deepened. "See if you can find it while I hold him still."
Forcing his attention to the dog, Cade reached out and clasped his paw. The dog instantly tried to jerk back. "Easy." He gently massaged the ragged pad until he felt something sharp in the flesh. "I found it." He pinched the thorn with his fingers and pulled it out. "Damn. No wonder he was limping." He held it up for her to see.
"Make sure there's not another one."
He tossed aside the thorn, then felt the rest of his paw. "I think that's it."
"Great." She kissed the dog's head and let him go. He scrambled away, and her gaze rose to his. "He must have run through brambles."
The concern in her soft eyes swamped him, and his head grew suddenly light. And that confused him. What was it about this woman that affected him so much? Why couldn't he keep her at a distance?
He forced himself to his feet. Needing to get away, to put some space between them, he strode to his gear and picked up his hard hat.
She rose more slowly. "So what do you think about Dusty?" She brushed the dirt off her jeans. "For the dog, I mean. I've been trying to think of a name."
Still annoyed with himself, but grateful for the change of subject, he shoved on his hard hat and lifted his bag. "I guess it suits him." Even after crossing the river, the mutt needed a bath.
"I think so, too. Come on, Dusty," she told the dog. "Let's get you a drink." She pulled the bowl from her bag and poured in water. While the dog drank, she stuck their trash in a plastic bag.
"You ready to go?" he asked.
"Yes." She put away the empty bowl, tied the trash to the strap on her bag and joined him on the path. "What kind of dogs did you have on your ranch?"
"Border collies, mostly. They helped herd the cattle."
"I could never have a dog when I was young. We moved too much." She hiked beside him up the rocky trail, her long legs keeping stride with his. "Plus, my dad was always gone on ships, and my mother couldn't be bothered. She was involved with the wives' club, and a dog didn't fit her lifestyle." She paused. "Actually, neither did a kid."
The resentment in her voice surprised him. He'd always assumed she'd had a great childhood.
But now that he thought about it, she'd never discussed her past, at least not in any detail. Whenever he'd asked, she'd skirted his questions. And he'd never pursued it past that.
Troubled by that thought, he frowned. "How did you learn about dogs if you never had one?"
She glanced at the dog. No longer limping, he trotted easily beside her. "When I moved back East, I got involved in dog rescue. It helped me...cope."
Cope? With what? Her guilt at deserting her husband? Bitterness soured his gut. "So you're what, a dog trainer now?"
"Oh, no. Nothing like that. I still help out with rescue, but I work in a nursing home now. In fact, dogs are how I got my job."
She stopped and pulled a pebble from her shoe. He waited for her to catch up. "I had the sweetest golden retriever for a while," she said as they resumed hiking. "A trained therapy dog. Her owner had to give her up. So I took her to a nursing home to visit patients and got hooked."
"Hooked on what?"
"The people." She sounded surprised.
"Seems like they'd be depressing."
"Not at all. I mean, when someone...passes on...it's really hard. But they're wonderful. They have the most amazing attitude. They know that they're going to...that they won't be around very long. And some are in a lot of pain. But instead of complaining or focusing on what they don't have, they're so cheerful and optimistic. They just enjoy every moment they have."
She frowned suddenly and nibbled her bottom lip. A second later, she slanted him a glance. He was surprised to see guilt in her eyes.
But then she cleared her throat. "Well, anyway, they're always happy to see me." Her voice dropped. "I guess I like feeling needed."
Needed? He stopped, feeling as if she'd kicked the air from his gut. "Since when?"
"Since when, what?" Her eyes searched his. "What do you mean?"
"You know damned well what I mean." He'd needed her, more than he'd needed to breathe. And she'd still bolted away. He turned and strode up the path.
"Cade, wait."
"For what? Another lie?"
"Cade, please. Let me explain."
His jaw rigid, he jerked around. "Explain what? Why you didn't give a damn about my feelings? Why you ran out of town?" He stepped forward and his gaze pinned hers. "Why your husband's needs didn't count?"
"But you...You didn't..." Her skin paled. "Cade, I..."
He waited, willing her to continue, to explain why she'd run away. But she only twisted her hands and looked distraught.
"Hell." Disgusted, he strode off. His gut churning, his pulse thundering through his skull, he struggled to control his anger. What did it matter? Their marriage was over. So why did he even care? Why did her betrayal eat at him, even after all these years?
Because he still didn't understand it. His heart pumping, he picked up his pace. Whenever he looked at her, whenever she talked, she seemed genuine. Sincere. As if she really cared about him. Hell, she even acted like that toward the dog.
And he fell for it, every damned time.
Was it just an act? Was she really that callous, that hard? And if so, why couldn't he see it? Why couldn't he get her out of his blood?
And if it wasn't a lie, if she really had cared about him, then why had she left? And why wouldn't she tell him now?
"McKenzie, this is dispatch," a voice on his radio called.
He pulled out his radio and sucked in his breath. No, he didn't understand it. But he did know one thing for damned sure. Before they reached Missoula, he was going to demand some answers.
J ordan hurried up the rocky trail behind Cade, clutching the makeshift leash. A sick feeling swirled through her belly. She'd seen Cade in a lot of moods during their marriage, but never this fiercely bitter, and he had a cynical edge to his eyes that had never been there before.
Because she'd put it there when she left.
Fierce guilt cramped her chest. Of course he was angry. What had she expected? That he wouldn't care that she'd left him? That he'd shrug the divorce off?
Ahead of her, Cade said something into his radio, then shoved it into his bag. Then he stopped and looked back, waiting for her to catch up.
Her gaze met his as she closed the distance between them. His hard jaw tightened under the stubble, and his striking eyes narrowed at hers. And her heart tripped even more.
She'd hurt him, all right, deeply. More than she'd ever dreamed. And no matter how hard it was to discuss it, she owed him an explanation.
And she needed to do it now.
She caught up to him and stopped, trying to figure out how to begin. The dry wind swirled up dust and pushed a pinecone along the trail. The raucous squawk of a Steller's jay pierced the mounting silence.
She finally dragged in a steadying breath. "Cade, when you were growing up, was there anything you really wanted?"
He held her gaze for several seconds, and she thought he wouldn't answer. Then he turned and started walking again, and she hurried to match his long stride.
"Yeah," he said after a moment. "I wanted to get the hell off the ranch."
She blinked. "But I thought you liked Montana." In fact, she couldn't imagine him anywhere else. He was always doing something outdoors---hunting, fishing, smokejumping...
"Montana's fine. It was the ranch I hated. Doing the same damn work every day. Baling hay and feeding cattle." He grunted in disgust. "It was a hell of a life, being stuck in that dying town."
Still marveling over that revelation, she slanted him a glance. How come she hadn't known that? She knew the most intimate details of this man---what he ate, how he made love---and yet, in so many ways he remained a stranger.
Still, it made sense. Even injured, he exuded energy. She could imagine his restlessness as a teen. "So you were anxious to leave?"
"No way was I spending my life trapped on that ranch, worrying about the price of beef."
The bitterness in his tone caught her off guard. She studied the hard line of his jaw, sensing he'd had more at stake than a need for independence, but when he didn't elaborate, she let it go. "Well, I would have given anything to live there."
His eyes met hers again and he raised his brows. "You didn't like moving around?"
"Hardly." Her lips twisted. "Oh, some of it wasn't so bad. We lived in some beautiful places. But I hated starting over, being the new kid in school every year. Sitting by myself, trying to figure out how to fit in and what to wear. And just when I'd finally get it right, when I'd start to make friends and relax, we'd have to move."
"You can be lonely even living in one place."
"True." She glanced at him, wondering why she'd never viewed him as a loner. He'd always seemed so strong and confident, so impermeable to hurt. But apparently, she'd been wrong.
She gnawed her bottom lip, unable to stop the guilt creeping into her chest. If she hadn't seen that part of him, what else might she have missed?
"Well, anyway," she continued. "I didn't like to travel."
"How come you never told me that?"
Good question. "I didn't like to talk about it. It wasn't...It was a painful way to grow up. And I guess I assumed that you knew, that everyone understood the military lifestyle." Obviously, she'd been wrong. And that assumption had cost her.
The road switched back, and she paused to haul air into her lungs. Sunlight streamed through the Douglas firs in narrow beams, highlighting the punishing climb ahead. Cade held out his canteen, but she shook her head.
His Adam's apple dipped as he drank, and she steeled herself to go on. "My dad was always gone. That's how I remember my childhood, standing on piers, watching his ship disappear, knowing it would be forever before he came back.
"There was this one time when I was nine and he'd been gone for months. I'd been counting the days until he came home. I'd made one of those paper chains, you know, where you tear off a link every day? And the chain was finally gone."
They started walking again. "We got the call that the ship was in sight, so we drove down to the pier. We saw it in the distance, and then the pilot boat went out to meet it. I was so excited, I thought I was going to burst."
Her stomach clenched at the memory. And that old dread trickled in, that horrible sense of betrayal. "And then the ship stopped, right at the entrance to the harbor, and it started to turn. I thought that the pilot had told them to, so it could enter the harbor at a better angle, but they'd been called out on another case. They just turned around and left. I didn't even get to see him. And they were gone for another month."
Cade frowned. "Your father couldn't control that. He was just doing his job."
"Exactly. A job he cared more about than me." Her throat tightened, and she searched his face, praying he would understand. "And that was my biggest wish growing up. To find a man who loved me enough to stay home."
She'd thought that man was Cade. He'd swept her away with his intensity, the way he'd made her the center of his thrilling world. And during those amazing months in the cabin, she'd lived the life she'd always dreamed.
Eventually, she'd discovered the truth, that she hadn't really enthralled him, or at least not for long. That he did everything with the same high energy, and he thrived on excitement and change.
And no matter what she did or how hard she tried to please him, she couldn't hold him down. Adventure lured him away every time.
Just as it had seduced her father.
Cade stopped and turned to face her. His eyes blazed, and a red stain inched up his neck. Shocked by his sudden anger, she took an unsteady step back.
He moved forward, crowding into her space. "So, because I didn't spend every damned second by your side, you figured I didn't care?"
Unease thumped through her chest. "It was worse than that," she said, her throat dry. "I hardly saw you."
"I stayed with you when I could."
"Sure, during the off season."
"During the summer, too. Every minute I wasn't working. What more did you expect?"
That he love her enough to stay with her.
"Is that how you measured our marriage?" he continued. "By how many minutes I punched on a goddamned time clock?"
"No, of course not, but---"
"Hell, you didn't want a man. You wanted a dog, somebody who'd sit at your feet every night." He jerked his head toward the leash. "Well, it looks like you got what you wanted." Looking furious, he turned and strode up the road.
Her face hot, her stomach balled, she slowly trailed him. Was Cade right? Had she expected too much from him? Had the problem really been her?
She dragged in a trembling breath. He made her sound so selfish. But was she wrong to want her husband around, to have a loving companion to warm the long nights?
She lifted her chin. "I don't think that's fair. Some men care more about their wives than their careers."
He turned back to face her, his jaw rigid. "It's not a matter of caring. A man has to support his family."
"By being gone all the time?"
"If that's his job."
She shook her head. "Not all men think that way."
He scoffed. "Good luck finding one who doesn't."
She looked away. "I already have."
"You're engaged?"
His incredulity stung. She snapped her eyes back to his. "Is that so hard to believe?"
His eyes narrowed even more. "What's hard to believe is that any man would stay on that tight a chain."
She flinched as he strode away. Phil was a man, a perfectly nice one. She pictured Phil's easy face, his laid-back smile. The warm brown eyes that were as comfortable and welcoming as her favorite armchair.
And about as exciting.
She scowled. All right, so maybe he wasn't as thrilling as Cade, but he'd make a great husband, wouldn't he?
Still frowning, she tugged on the leash and resumed walking. In any case, she wasn't looking for excitement this time. She wanted stability. She'd loved Cade passionately, but she'd been lonely without him. And it was far worse when she'd discovered she was pregnant.
Cade had been out on a fire, of course. And she had been so excited. She couldn't wait for him to come home so she could tell him the news. So they could celebrate. She was sure he'd quit smokejumping so they could raise their child together, and create the family she'd always desired.
But instead of coming home, he'd veered off to Alaska. He'd sounded cheerful when he'd called to tell her. Excited. Lightning was striking all over and he'd get plenty of overtime pay.
And she'd felt hollow, betrayed, as if she were nine years old again and that ship had turned around.
She'd started cramping that same night.
Her stomach curled at the memories. The shocking gush of blood. The panic and fear. The terror of lying alone in that starched white hospital bed, her husband a thousand miles away.
God, she'd been scared. She'd needed Cade desperately, and he'd been off fighting fires. And when she'd left the hospital, no longer pregnant, drowning in depression and grief, she simply couldn't go on. God forgive her, but she couldn't make herself go back to that empty apartment. She couldn't face the loneliness, the sadness. And so she'd left.
She sighed, unsure how to explain all that. How to tell Cade that he'd had a child, however briefly. And that she couldn't cope when it died.
Just then, a plane flew overhead, and she squinted up toward the sky. White wings flashed through the pines and then they were gone.
Cade waited for her to catch up. "That's the recon plane. They'll check for a landing spot, too. With any luck they'll pick us up soon."
Which meant their time together was nearly over. And she still hadn't told him about the baby. She cleared her throat. "Cade, I need to..."
Suddenly, a rabbit bounded across the road, flushed from the woods by the plane. It darted across their path in a fleeting zigzag, then disappeared through the trees.
A blur at her side caught her attention, and she turned her head to look. The dog bolted forward. The leash abruptly tightened and yanked her into the air.
Unable to catch her balance, she pitched forward. Her knee slammed into the ground, and she lost her grip on the leash. Gravel gouged her palms as she skidded along the road, and then her shoulder smacked the earth, knocking the wind from her lungs. She let out a muffled cry.
"Oh, hell." Cade ran over and crouched beside her. "Are you all right?"
She rolled to her side and groaned. "I'm fine. Just embarrassed." Of course, the dog would chase the rabbit. "I should have seen that coming. And I can't believe I dropped the leash."
Cade grabbed her arm and helped her to her feet. She rotated her aching shoulder. "I'm just bruised." But her knee throbbed. She glanced down and grimaced. "So much for my favorite jeans."
"Let's see." Cade squatted before her. Using his good hand, he parted the torn fabric. His finger stroked the periphery of the scrape, sending chills over her skin. "This doesn't look good. Can you walk?"
She bent her knee, felt the pain, and shook it off. "I'm fine." But her palms stung. She wiped them on her jeans.
He rose. "Let's see your hands."
"They're all right."
"Jordan...."
She sighed and held them out. Gravel and dirt were ground into the shredded skin.
Cade grasped one wrist to hold it steady. "Does it hurt?"
"No." She wasn't lying. The warmth of his strong hand had driven out any pain. And suddenly, all she could feel were the rough calluses on his fingers as he stroked her wrist, and the answering leap of her pulse.
He moved closer, bending his head to examine her hands, and her gaze traced his strong tanned neck, the blond stubble lining his jaw. He'd removed his hard hat, and his short hair gleamed in the light.
He looked up and scanned her face. "Looks like you hit pretty hard." He reached out and brushed her cheek. Her breath backed up as his fingers traced a path along her cheekbone, running thrills over her skin. Then he gently cupped her neck.
Her heart stopped.
His eyes narrowed, and he turned perfectly still. Tension arced between them. The familiar pulse of desire.
And suddenly, she wanted to kiss him, to feel that hard body lock against hers, those insatiable jolts of desire. To taste the bliss, the fire, even just for an instant.
And he wanted it, too. She saw the hunger in his eyes, the answering need. Her gaze fell to his mouth.
But he dropped his hand and stepped back. "We'd better get you cleaned up," he said, his voice strained. "I've got bandages in my first aid kit."
He turned away, and she hissed out her breath. What had just happened? Why had he stopped? She'd seen the desire in his eyes, just as she had on that rock.
It didn't matter, she reminded herself. She should be grateful that he'd drawn back. She had no business kissing Cade, no matter how exciting he was. That road led only to pain.
"Forget it," she said, determined to be as practical as he was. "We need to find Dusty first."
"After that trick? I'd say we let him go."
"Don't tempt me." He turned to face her, and she managed a shallow smile. "That was dumb on my part, though. I should have figured he'd chase the rabbit. I wasn't thinking." At least not about the dog.
And as a result, she'd lost him.
Cade pulled the canteen from his bag and strode back toward her. "Hold out your hands."
"I'd rather wait---"
"I got that part," he said, sounding impatient. "But at least we can rinse them off."
"They're not that bad."
"Humor me."
She sighed. Knowing it was useless to argue, she extended her hands.
He poured water on her palms, and the sting made her suck in her breath. "That's good." She pulled her hands back and shook off the water, then blotted her palms on her jeans.
"Let's see your knee."
She pulled a tissue from her pocket and held it out. "Just pour some water on this and I'll clean it off. I can do a better job later."
Cade dampened the tissue, and she quickly swiped at her knee. Blood oozed from the cut, but she didn't tell him that. She would wait and bandage it later, after they'd found Dusty.
Her apprehension rising, she stuffed the tissue in the trash bag. Then she scanned the forest, hoping for a glimpse of the dog. Dense pines blocked the view on the downhill side, while above them, a tall chain-link fence edged the road.
She blinked, amazed she hadn't noticed it before. Of course, her mind hadn't been on the scenery. "Where did that fence come from?"
"The mine." He stuck his canteen in his bag. "The entrance is probably ahead."
"What kind of mine do you think it is?"
"Could be anything." He picked up both bags and started walking. "Silver, coal, gold. Maybe vermiculite."
"What's that?" She limped beside him to keep up.
"A mineral they use in insulation. There used to be a big mine near Libby."
She absorbed that fact, impressed by how much he knew about these mountains. Of course, he'd grown up in the state and spent his spare time outdoors.
But that wouldn't help them find Dusty. Growing anxious, she whistled and scanned the woods. Surely the dog would come back. He knew they would feed him, protect him. Unless he ran too far and got lost....
A tight feeling spread through her chest. "Dusty!" she called, forcing back a surge of panic. She hadn't lost him. She couldn't have. She'd never forgive herself if that happened.
A few yards later, the road leveled out, and she stopped and gasped for breath. "We'd better wait here so he can find us."
"He'll catch up."
"Not if we're too far ahead."
Cade squinted in the sunlight. "Let's go up to that next bend. Then we can take a break."
"All right." Her knee aching, her palms burning, she reluctantly hobbled beside him. Locusts buzzed in the rising heat. The dry wind sucked at her skin. But at least the ground leveled off, allowing her pulse to slow back to normal.
Still worrying about the dog, she walked beside Cade to the bend, then turned the corner and stopped. To her surprise, boulders spilled over the road, blocking their path.
She wiped the sweat from her face with her sleeve. "What happened here?"
"I don't know." Taking the lead, he forged a path through the weeds around the boulders. "It looks like we can go this way."
She followed slowly. "Shouldn't we wait back here? The dog won't see us on the other side."
"That depends on where he is."
"I know, but---"
"Watch out." He stopped abruptly and held his good arm out to block her. She peered over his broad shoulder to see.
And gasped. Beyond them, the mountain had slid away. Instead of a dense stand of pines, huge rocks littered the hillside for hundreds of yards in either direction. Weathered logs were scattered throughout the debris.
She scanned the area in amazement. "My God. How did this happen?"
"Hard to say. Lightning could have burned some trees on the ridge and loosened the rocks. Or vibrations from the mine set it off." He glanced around. "Or maybe the mining company blasted the road to keep people out."
If so, they'd done a good job. She couldn't even tell where the road had been. "How are we going to get through?" Maybe she could scramble over the rocks, but Cade had an injured shoulder. And some of those boulders were huge.
"We'll have to go around."
She glanced up the mountain. Climbing the steep slope didn't look easy. And along the edges of the rock slide, where the earth remained intact, the chain-link fence blocked the way. "We'll have to go downhill."
"Too dangerous. We don't want to be below the rocks if we set off another slide. This thing probably happened in sections." He nodded toward the nearest slope. "You see where that grass has taken hold? That's probably the original slide. But look over there." He pointed further out to a stretch of light-gray rocks. "That's more recent."
She nibbled her lip. Despite the danger, it would be faster to go straight across. "You don't think if we're careful..."
"It's too risky. The whole damn hill could collapse."
"Still..." A sudden yip caught her attention, and her pulse rose. "Do you hear that?"
"Yeah."
"Dusty!" she called, and another bark rang out. She edged closer to the slide and scanned the wreckage, sure the sound had come from there. But the only thing she could see was a hawk soaring past on the wind, trailing a shadow over the rocks.
"Dusty!" she shouted again. "Where are you?" Then she saw a movement and her heart leaped. "There he is!" The dog crouched between two boulders halfway across the slope. "We're coming, sweetie," she called out.
She turned to Cade. "His leash must be caught. I need to climb down there and get him."
"Forget it. The hill's unstable."
"But he can't get free by himself." Besides, this was her fault. If she'd held on to the leash, he wouldn't have gotten away.
And no matter what, she wouldn't leave him. Cade didn't know it, but saving dogs helped her deal with the loss of their child, as if by rescuing them, she could alter the past, or make it a little less painful.
"We'll have to go around and get him from the other side," Cade said.
"But that could take hours." The pitiful yips grew louder and tugged at her heart. She couldn't make him wait that long. She had to get him out now.
And only she could do it. The dog couldn't get free by himself, and Cade couldn't climb those rocks with his sling. Besides, she was lighter than Cade and less likely to set off a slide.
His eyes narrowed at hers. "Forget it," he said, as if reading her mind. "We're going around."
"McKenzie," a voice on his radio called.
"I mean it," he warned. He swung his PG bag from his good shoulder and pulled out his radio.
She moved closer to the edge of the slide. Cade didn't want her to cross because he was trying to protect her. But maybe she didn't need protecting. Maybe she was stronger than he thought.
She glanced back. He'd turned partly away, and she considered the breadth of his shoulders, the lean, muscled line of his legs. It had been easy to lean on Cade, to depend on his knowledge and strength. He was competent and brave, and it felt natural to let him take charge.
But maybe she'd depended on him too much, and that wasn't fair to him.
She swiveled her gaze back to the rocks. Surely she could do something as simple as rescuing the dog. It couldn't be that hard to manage. But she needed to move fast, before Cade guessed her intentions and stopped her.
She stepped onto the churned-up slope and immediately slipped on loose gravel.
"Damn it, Jordan!" Cade shouted. "Come back here."
"I can do this." Not daring to glance back, she regained her balance and threaded her way through the rocks.
Behind her, Cade swore, and she quickened her pace so he wouldn't catch her. She really could do this, no matter what he thought. She wasn't helpless---even if she'd once acted that way.
But soon the rocks jumbled together and she had to resort to climbing. She scaled one large rock, then another, and nearly reconsidered. The sharp stones bit through her thin-soled shoes. Her hands, scraped from her fall, tore more when she grabbed the rough rocks. And her battered knee protested with every step.
And even when she managed to find a level spot of ground between the rocks, the loose soil made it hard to stay upright. She slipped again, sending a stone crashing down the mountain and setting off a small slide.
Her heart pumped hard in her chest. Oh, God. No wonder Cade had warned her not to cross. But no matter what, she couldn't stop. Dusty depended on her to free him.
Her head low, she pushed aside her doubts and concentrated on inching closer, rock by grueling rock. Climbing up, then down. Sliding, skidding, struggling to stay on her feet, then scaling another boulder. And with every tortured step, the dog's frantic yips grew louder.
And she was getting hot. The sun beat down on her head and sweat trickled into her eyes. She blinked against the sting, then used the hem of her T-shirt to wipe her forehead. Blood stained the shirt where she'd touched it, and she wiped her raw palms on her jeans.
Breathing hard, she paused and glanced at the dog again. She was closer now and could see him straining to get free. "Hang on," she called out. "I'm almost there."
But she still had yards to go. With a sigh, she climbed up another rock. She refused to even think about the long trek back.
"Jordan, stop!" Cade suddenly called.
The urgency in his voice caught her attention and she glanced back. Cade stood yards above her, partway across the slope. "What are you doing?" she demanded. "I said I can get him. Go back."
"No! Don't move!"
"Me? You're the one who shouldn't be out here." Not with his injuries. Scowling, she found a foothold on the next rock and pulled herself up.
"Jordan, stop!" he shouted again.
Annoyed now, she paused and glared back. "For God's sake, Cade, I'm fine. Would you stop being so stubborn and---"
"Don't turn around! Jordan, please!" The panic in his voice made her freeze. She'd never heard that tone before.
"Good," he said, his voice tight. "Now straighten up real slow and raise your arms to look big. Don't let him sense that you're scared."
Scared? Of what? What did Cade see? Her nerves tightening, she turned herself slowly forward and scanned the rock slide. The sunlight glinted off the barren landscape. A puff of dust whirled into the air. The dog's desperate whines grew louder.
Then a movement slightly uphill caught her attention and she turned to look.
And gasped.
A big, tawny cat leaped silently toward her, his powerful muscles bunched under his fur. His ears pricked forward into stalking position, and his silver eyes locked on hers. A few yards above her, he paused, then lowered himself to a crouch.
Fear lodged deep in her throat, tightening the hairs along her nape and damming the breath in her lungs. A mountain lion. One of the fiercest predators in the forest.
And unless she stopped him, he was about to attack.
H is blood thundering, Cade scooped up a rock with his left hand and inched across the slope. Gravel slid under his boots, sending a stone bouncing downhill, and he froze. Hell. Unless he was careful, he'd spook the cat into attacking before he could get to Jordan.
He gauged the distance between them, and a sick feeling slid through his gut. He was still too far away to protect her. He had to get within throwing range so he could scare the animal off.
But he had to move quickly. A mountain lion could leap from twenty feet.
His heart ramming hard against his rib cage, he stuffed the stone in his pocket, then scooted silently over a boulder. He wished to hell she had listened to him. Why hadn't she stayed where she was safe?
And why hadn't he kept his eye on her? He'd suspected she'd go after that dog. Hadn't she plunged into the river for the knife? So why had he ignored his instincts and turned his back?
Regret speared his gut, along with a tight lump of dread. He'd screwed up, all right. He'd put her in danger, and now it was up to him to save her.
His gaze locked on the lethal cat, he inched closer. A vision of Jordan being mauled flashed through his mind, and a cold sweat beaded his brow. Damn his injured shoulder! Of all the times for his body to fail him. He wanted to leap over these rocks and rescue her now.
Schooling himself to patience, he scaled another boulder. But then Jordan bent to pick up a rock, and panic rocked his chest. "Don't bend down!" he urged her. "Stand up tall and look big."
She looked up at him, her dark eyes flashing with fear. "All right." Her voice trembled; her terror palpitated in the air.
And if he could sense it, so could the mountain lion.
Which meant that he had to move quickly. His pulse rocketing, he grabbed another stone and climbed closer. "Don't move," he urged her. "I'm almost there."
But then the dog whined again, the mountain lion crept forward, and Jordan threw her rock. It landed wide, and the big cat crouched again, ready to spring.
His heart stopped, and he hurled his rock at the cat. It hit near its paws and the cat looked up.
"Get out of here," he yelled. "Go on!" He whipped out the second stone and fired it, hitting the animal's side. The cat turned and leaped away, then stopped and circled back.
Breathing hard, he scooped up another rock and slung it. "Get out!" he shouted again.
Wishing to hell he could use his right arm, he hurled another stone. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jordan do the same. Her aim was off and the rock landed wide, but it kept the cat off balance. He thanked God she hadn't panicked and fled---because nothing triggered the instinct to pounce like running prey.
The mountain lion paced uncertainly for several seconds, then retreated a few yards and turned back. Cade flung another rock, hitting near its paw again. The cat hesitated a moment longer, then turned tail and loped through the trees.
Cade held up. Still breathing hard, he scooped up another rock and scanned the woods, poised in case it came back. Below him, Jordan rushed over the remaining boulders to the dog, pulled his leash loose, and gathered him into her arms.
"Hurry up," he called down, his blood pounding through his ears. Even though the mountain lion had left, he didn't plan to take chances.
"I'm coming." She set the dog down, wrapped the leash around her hand and started uphill.
His breathing rough, the adrenaline still rushing through his veins, Cade stood guard while she climbed toward him. Nothing moved along the edge of the woods, and a sparrow resumed chirping. When minutes had passed with no sign of the cat, he exhaled and dropped the stone.
He knew they'd been lucky. If that cat had decided to fight...He blanched at the gruesome vision that thought conjured up. Jordan never would have survived it.
And he needed to get her off this mountain before that cat reconsidered and came back.
His emotions still churning, he worked his way across the slope, angling his path to intercept her. The midday sun simmered off the rocks, sending sweat trickling over his cheeks. The hot breeze swirled up choking dust and made it hard to breathe.
He kept a watchful eye on Jordan as she labored below him. The dog bounded easily up the slope, but she lagged behind, exhausted. And that ticked him off even more. What the hell was she thinking? She'd forded a river, hiked up a mountain and climbed through a rock slide, all on an hour of sleep. She'd had no business going after that dog.
He glanced down at her again, but just at that moment, she slipped. His nerves jerked and he lunged forward to help her, but he was too far away. She clutched desperately at a rock, missed and let out a cry. Then she started sliding downhill.
Oh, hell. "Jordan!" He lurched forward again, but the motion sent a stone crashing toward her, forcing him to stop. Any movement he made would only destabilize the hill.
He watched helplessly, a sick terror grinding through his gut, as the rocks surrounding her loosened and fell. The noise of stones colliding split the air, and she disappeared in a thick haze of dust.
Stark fear shot through his blood. "Jordan!" he shouted again, but his voice faded in the nerve-wrenching din. Frustrated, he jammed his hand through his hair. He had to get down there. He had to help her! But how?
He waited an eternity for the noise to cease. Finally, a lone rock bounced down the mountain, and then the dust began to settle.
Seconds later, he saw her move. "I'm okay," she called out, her voice muffled.
She'd survived. He sagged and closed his eyes, then passed a shaking hand over his face. Good God, that was close. He'd never felt fear that raw in his life.
He watched as she awkwardly picked herself up from the dirt and checked the dog. She still had the damned leash clenched in her fist.
"We're both fine," she added with a little wave.
She rubbed the dog's face and murmured something. Then, after a quick glance downhill, she stepped forward. Even from a distance, he could see her wince.
He gritted his teeth. Like hell she was fine. A rock must have hit her. And judging by the way she was limping, she could hardly make it back up the hill.
With frustration gnawing his nerves, he paced a path in the dirt while he waited. Her face was pale, her features pinched as she climbed toward him. Pain carved a crease in her brow. And he'd never felt more useless in his life.
Then he noticed red splotches staining her shirt, and his lungs squeezed even tighter. She was bleeding. Just how injured was she?
He scanned the area, searching for options, and his sense of futility rose. Dense forest surrounded the rocks in every direction, leaving only the steep slope exposed. A chopper couldn't land in these conditions. And even if it lowered a basket, the rotor wash could set off a slide.
Which meant they still had to hike to the road.
Suddenly, she let out a cry and stumbled again, and he instinctively lurched forward.
"False alarm," she called out. "We're all right."
All right? When she'd been battered by rocks? Outrage filled his gut. How could she sound so cheerful?
She paused to stroke the dog's ears, and suddenly he wanted to shake her. Damn that woman anyhow. Didn't she have any sense? To put herself in danger for a dog! Crossing an unstable slope, setting off a rock slide...And when she'd thrown that rock...His heart constricted with remembered fear.
And injured or not, it was time he laid down some rules. This was the last time she hared off on some damn escapade and nearly got herself killed. From now on, she listened to him.
Long minutes later, she finally staggered to his side. Her face was flushed, her breathing ragged. Exhaustion pulled at her face.
Unable to control his temper, he grabbed her arm and dragged her back to firm ground. The dog shook the dust from his fur and wagged his tail, unhurt.
Unlike Jordan.
"Damn it," he shouted. "Why didn't you listen to me?"
She shook her arm loose and frowned. "Because Dusty was stuck. He couldn't get away."
"You could have been killed. Don't you have any sense? That cat could have ripped you apart."
"But Cade, he---"
"He could have killed you." Why didn't she understand that? He couldn't have stopped him. He sucked in a shallow breath.
"And if I hadn't done anything, he would have killed the dog," she countered. Indignation flashed in her eyes. "What did you expect me to do? Just stand there and watch him die?"
"I expected you to follow orders."
"Orders?" A red stain crept up her cheeks. "You're not my boss."
"The hell I'm not." His temper flared even higher. "As long as we're on this mountain, I'm in charge. I know more about this forest than you do, and more about how to survive. So when I tell you to do something, you do it. And when I say not to, you'd damn well better listen."
"But Dusty---"
"Damn it, Jordan! Your life matters more than the dog's. Can't you understand that? You just about got yourself killed."
She bit her lip and looked away. He sucked in his breath and struggled to control his rage.
She met his gaze again, her dark eyes huge. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
His anger abruptly deflated. He dragged his hand through his hair. "God, Jordan."
"I'm really sorry," she said again. She stepped toward him, her chestnut eyes soft on his. "I didn't mean to scare you."
But she had. He couldn't even think about what might have happened. His throat clenched tight, and he shook his head.
"Cade, I..."
"Yeah." He swallowed, grappling with unnamed emotions, shocked at the depth of his fear. Why was he so scared? Sure, she'd nearly died, but so had the rookie when that snag fell. And he hadn't felt that gut-wrenching terror, that mind-numbing dread for the kid. Or lost his temper and yelled.
His gaze met hers again. A scrape marred her cheek beneath the dirt, and fatigue haunted her eyes. And suddenly, the need to touch her swamped him. The need to feel her, hold her, to prove that she was all right.
He closed the short distance between them. Then, hardly breathing, he lifted his hand to her face. He traced the scrape on her cheek with his thumb, felt the heat of her delicate skin. "You're hurt."
She shook her head. "Just bruised."
"You've got blood on your shirt."
"My hands got scraped, that's all. I'm fine, Cade. Really."
But she'd almost died. He'd almost lost her. Again.
His heart drumming, he slid his hand to her neck. He drew his thumb along her throat, and felt the strong, hot leap of her pulse.
Her breath hitched in the silence. Her pulse trembled under his hand. And as he gazed into those exotic eyes, feeling that inevitable pull, he knew that he had to kiss her.
Hardly breathing, he tilted her chin and lowered his head, then slid his lips over hers.
The years disappeared in an instant. The bitter memories faded away. Time peeled back and stalled on a glimpse of perfection. On Jordan, the woman he'd loved. And she was finally back in his arms.
Her soft lips parted, granting him access, and with a groan, he pulled her against him. He drank in her heat, her desire, the incredible feel of her skin, and explored her hot mouth with his tongue.
He felt her free hand clench his shoulder, then slowly rise to his neck. And then her tongue twined with his, matching his heat with her answering hunger.
But then she'd always been that way, fitting him perfectly, matching his needs, stoking the unending fire.
He plunged his hand through her hair and cradled her head, deepening and lengthening the kiss. His body grew hard. Raw hunger drummed through his veins.
And he had to face the harsh truth. No other woman had ever felt this good---or ever would.
Even if she didn't want him.
He jerked his head back and broke the kiss, then struggled to regain his sanity. This was wrong. Jordan had deserted him. And damned if he'd let her twist herself around his soul so she could do it again.
But her smoldering eyes locked on his, and she moved back into his arms. "Cade," she whispered. "Please don't stop."
And despite knowing better, despite the warnings rocking his brain, he knew he was going to give in. He still wanted her. Damn, but he still wanted her. And hell if he could resist.
With a groan, he lowered his head and slanted his mouth over hers. He heard her small cry, felt her welcome as she opened beneath him.
A sense of finality filled him. Of rightness. As if he'd met his destiny and arrived where he belonged.
Tightening his hold, he kissed her deeply, invading her mouth with his tongue. Trying to ease the ache, the need he'd refused to acknowledge for years. The need for Jordan.
But it only fanned even higher.
Her hand crept through his hair, and her soft breasts brushed his trapped arm. Desperate to feel her, he widened his stance and pulled her lower body against him.
And felt that urgency rip through him, that electric rush of desire. The need to bury himself deep inside her and forget the pain.
"McKenzie."
His blood thickened as he continued to kiss her. His mind blurred, while hunger twisted his gut.
"McKenzie."
Irritated, he lifted his head. His brain still fuzzy, his breathing rough, he scowled around at the rocks.
Jordan's eyes slowly opened and she blinked, looking as dazed as he felt. And as aroused. He wanted to haul her back into his arms. Even covered with grime, he'd never seen a more desirable woman.
"McKenzie," the voice called again.
His radio. He battled the urge to ignore it. He wanted to feel her hot, naked skin under his. To slake this wild need clawing his gut. To lose control and make love to Jordan.
Shocked at himself, he dropped his hand and stepped back. What in the hell was he thinking? She didn't want a smokejumper. She'd told him that point-blank. And no matter how strong the temptation, he refused to subject himself to that pain again.
Because this woman was different. They could never have an affair. Every time he touched her, he put his heart on the line.
Disgusted, he turned and strode to his PG bag. Even worse, that kiss had been unprofessional. A forest fire breathed up their backs. A mountain lion lurked nearby. They didn't have time to fool around.
Appalled by his behavior, he jerked his radio from the bag and keyed the mike. The red light flashed, and he swore. Great. This was all he needed. The batteries were low, and he didn't have any spares. He'd given his extras to Trey when he left the cabin.
"McKenzie here," he snapped.
"This is dispatch."
"Yeah." He shook his head to clear it. "What's up?"
"We checked out that clearing you saw, and think we can set down a chopper."
He pulled his mind back to the fire. They could hike to the clearing, as long as Jordan held up. But did they have enough time? "What's the fire doing?"
"It's making a run to the north right now."
Which meant it was heading straight toward them. He shot an uneasy gaze to the south, where the tall pines bobbed in his direction. If he hadn't been so distracted by Jordan, he would have noticed the change.
"How long do you expect this wind to hold?"
"At least until tonight," the dispatcher said. "We'll get an update in a few hours."
He thought hard. Alone, he could make that clearing in five or six hours, less if he picked up the pace. But Jordan could barely hang on now. And unless she got some rest soon, she'd collapse.
And if the wind switched back before they got to that clearing, they'd be in a hell of a mess. The worst place they could possibly be was on a steep slope with fire burning below them.
But did they have a choice? At the rate they were traveling, it would take days to reach that road. And if the wind didn't shift, the fire would catch them right here.
He eyed the rock slide slowing their progress. "Any chance you can get a vehicle up this trail and meet us halfway?" That would shorten their hike.
"Hold on." While the dispatcher murmured in the background, Cade shifted his gaze to Jordan. She knelt in the dirt, examining the dog. Her eyes lifted to his, and he felt the kick to his gut.
He had it bad, all right. Just looking at her stirred up those old feelings, dredging up memories he'd rather forget. Making him want things he couldn't have.
Which was all the more reason to get the hell out of this forest.
"The road's blocked a few miles from the junction," the dispatcher told him. "Someone piled a wall of dirt across. We'll have to bring in a bulldozer to clear it out."
That wouldn't gain them any time. "Never mind. We'll get to that clearing. Just let me know if anything changes."
He lowered his radio and tapped it against his thigh. They were committed to that clearing now. He just hoped to God the wind didn't shift until they got there.
J ordan stroked the dog's silky ears, her heart still fluttering madly from that kiss. God help her, but she couldn't stop reliving those amazing sensations---Cade's muscled body hard against hers, the exciting heat of his skin. The pleasure streaking through her nerves, turning need into desperation.
She dragged in a shaky breath. She had to get a grip. It was just a kiss, for goodness' sake. It wasn't that big a deal. Certainly no reason to act as though the earth had shifted.
She glanced at Cade as he stuffed his radio in his bag. Her gaze slid over the broad shoulders stretching the seams of his black T-shirt, the long, hard cords of his arms, the powerful thighs encased in dusty green pants, and down to his lug-soled boots.
And knew she was lying to herself. Cade's kiss had been anything but ordinary.
And if she'd learned anything from that miscarriage years ago, it was to face reality. She no longer hid behind the fantasies she'd clung to as a child.
And the truth was that she'd never reacted like that to Phil. Never. Kissing Phil had felt pleasant, comfortable, even mildly arousing.
But she'd never experienced that molten heat, that instant, carnal desire. That total insanity that, years ago, had made her elope with a man she'd just met---and even after all this time, even knowing the pain it would cause, tempted her to do it again.
Cade lifted their bags and stood in one smooth movement. He strode toward her, and another truth rocked her world. She'd thought she'd exaggerated her memories of Cade. That the passion she remembered was an illusion embellished with the passage of time.
But Cade's kiss had just blasted that theory. That passion was as real as this mountain. And it had nothing to do with her faulty memory. It had everything to do with this man.
She gave the dog a final scratch and rose. She struggled to compose herself as Cade drew closer, to act as if nothing had changed.
But then the seriousness of his expression caught her attention, and she shoved aside thoughts of the kiss. Something was wrong. Something to do with the fire. Alarm blazed through her nerves.
"What happened?" she asked.
His gaze met hers, and he stopped. The corners of his eyes tensed, and her foreboding grew. "They can land a helicopter in that clearing the next mountain over," he said. "I told them we'd head there instead of the road."
"Why?" He wouldn't change directions without good reason.
"The wind shifted. We'll be safer heading that way."
Oh, God. The fire was coming straight at them. She jerked her gaze to the sky.
"We've got time," he continued, his voice even. "We'll take a break and eat before we start hiking."
Her gaze swiveled back to his. "But, if the fire's near---"
"It's not that close yet. We've got time to rest."
She opened her mouth to argue, but he turned and strode back toward the trail.
Still, doubts nagged at her as she followed him around the boulders and away from the rock slide. If they were fine, then why did he look so worried? And why wouldn't he share his concerns? What was he protecting her from?
She gnawed at her bottom lip. She was tempted to pretend she believed him and indulge in a much-needed break. Hunger drilled a hole in her stomach. Her knee ached from the fall in the road, her ankle throbbed where the rock had struck it, and blisters had chafed her heels raw.
And God, she was exhausted. Her head pounded like an off-balance washing machine, and even her leg muscles shook. She wanted desperately to curl up and sleep.
But she knew they needed to hurry. If Cade wanted off this mountain, the situation had to be bad. He wasn't the type to overreact.
And although he'd never admit it, this mess was completely her fault. She'd made them stop to rescue the dog. She'd gotten chilled in that river. She'd dropped the leash and spent the morning crawling across that rock slide.
Without her, Cade would be safe in Missoula right now.
Which meant it was up to her to keep them moving. She couldn't endanger him more.
A few yards down the path, he dropped their bags in a patch of grass. She hobbled to a stop behind him. "Cade, listen. I'm not that hungry. Why don't we take a break later?"
He swiveled around and faced her. "I'd rather eat now."
"But I don't think we---"
"And I told you we've got enough time." His blue eyes narrowed on hers. "Look, I wouldn't go that way if I didn't think that we could make it."
She scanned the hard line of his jaw, the implacable set to his shoulders, and realized she couldn't convince him. He was determined to protect her, even at his own expense.
She huffed out her breath. "Fine." So she would bolt down some food and act refreshed so they could get back on the trail. And then somehow, she would hike like a maniac to that clearing.
Cade lowered himself to the grass in front of a rock, his face tightening when he jostled his arm. Jordan joined him, careful to keep the dog between them, particularly with the memory of that kiss so fresh.
She pulled the remaining cheese and salami from her bag, then considered the orange. "How long will it take us to get there?"
"We'll make it by nightfall."
The finality in his voice plucked at her nerves. What happened if they hiked too slowly? She tightened her grip on the orange. "So we don't have to make this food last?"
"Probably not, but we'll save a can of tuna just in case." He pulled the other can from his PG bag, along with his canteen.
She scanned what remained of their food. "You want the rest of the sandwich?"
"Go ahead. I'll eat the tuna."
The distance in his voice made her frown. Was he that worried about the fire, or just determined to ignore the kiss?
Either way, she should be grateful. Better to treat it as a moment of insanity and forget it.
She reached over and popped the pull-top on the can of tuna. "Why don't I put the tuna on bread? It'll be easier for you to eat that way."
"All right." He leaned against the rock and closed his eyes. Fatigue hardened the planes of his face, along with deep lines of tension.
Just how close was that fire?
Her nerves drumming, she split the remaining bread into quarters. Glad to have an activity to distract her, she heaped the tuna on one piece and made a sandwich for Cade, then piled the cheese and salami on her own. Despite her intentions, her thoughts kept sliding from the fire to that kiss, and her nerves wound even higher.
She tossed the dog a chunk of salami. "Do you mind if I give Dusty your beef jerky?"
"Go ahead." He opened his eyes and took the sandwich. His gaze landed on the dog, and his expression turned thoughtful. "You know," he said, "that mutt was damned lucky. That cat could have torn him apart."
"I know." A spasm clenched her throat at the memory. She'd been terrified that she couldn't save him. And when that cat had prepared to leap...
Her hand trembling, she reached out to the dog and stroked the soft gray fur between his ears. His golden eyes lifted to hers, and she felt the tug to her heart. "It was close, wasn't it, Dusty?" Far too close. She never wanted to feel that fear again.
She gave him a final pat, filled his water bowl and fed him the jerky. Then she settled back against the rock to eat her sandwich. The stale bread had the texture of tree bark, but she devoured it anyway.
"Jordan." Cade's low tone pricked at her nerves. She met his gaze, and dread trickled into her gut. She'd never seen him look so serious.
"I meant what I said back there. It could get dangerous up on that mountain. Fire behavior can get extreme. And if it blows up, it happens fast. The conditions can change in seconds." His blue eyes stayed steady on hers. "So if I tell you to do something, I need to know that you'll listen. Even if it means leaving the dog."
She made an anguished sound. Leave the dog? And let him die? Her gaze fell to his furry face and her heart cramped even tighter. No way. She could never leave him behind.
Not even if it cost them their lives?
Her stomach balled in a surge of panic. Cade didn't know what he was asking. She pulled Dusty to her lap and hugged him, and buried her face in his fur. She couldn't fail this dog. He trusted her. He depended on her to get him to safety.
But she'd seen that blaze up close---the roiling smoke, the thundering flames. Fire streaming and exploding through trees.
"I'm serious," Cade said. "Our survival could depend on how fast we move."
Feeling shredded inside, she raised her gaze to his. And for an endless moment, she just looked at him, absorbing his strength and resolve.
And a deep sense of certainty filled her. No matter what had happened in their past or how he felt about her now, this man would do anything to protect her. She could trust him with her life.
She had to, because each time she'd ignored his directions, she'd caused more problems. So far, she'd only delayed them, and acquired some bruises and scrapes. Next time, she could get them both killed.
And no matter how wrenching it would be to leave the dog, she couldn't endanger Cade. "I understand," she whispered.
"Good."
She dragged her gaze back to the dog. But their situation would have to get extremely dire before she abandoned him. And she wouldn't let it reach that point. She'd hike like a demon to that clearing so they could outrun that fire.
Resolved now, she polished off the last of her sandwich and leaned back, pretending to rest. It wasn't hard. In fact, she had to fight the urge to sleep. The dry breeze swished through the weeds beside the trail, its hypnotic murmur sedating. Insects droned in the rising heat, lulling her into closing her eyes.
Determined to stay awake, she jerked her eyes back open. Then she brushed the dirt off her torn jeans and grimaced. God, she was filthy. What she wouldn't give for a shower and bed. A moan rose in her throat at the thought.
Cade reached for his canteen. "How's your shoulder?" she asked.
"Could be worse."
Or better, she suspected. He tapped several ibuprofen onto his thigh, tossed them into his mouth and chased them down with water. His Adam's apple dipped as he drank.
Her gaze slid down his whiskered throat, over the sinewy cords of his neck, to the makeshift sling cradling his arm. She felt a spurt of admiration. God, he was stoic. He had to feel worse than she did. He'd jumped from a plane, battled the fire and been crushed by a burning tree. Then he'd forded a river, tramped over the mountain, and stopped a predator from attacking. Yet he managed to keep himself going.
And if he could do it, so could she. "You ready to go?" she asked.
"In a minute." He passed her the canteen, then leaned back and closed his eyes.
"Mind if I take one of your pills?"
"Help yourself."
Deciding one wouldn't do, she shook three from the plastic vial and gulped them down. With a sigh, she recapped the canteen. Even warm, the water eased her dry throat. Now if she could only close her eyes...But she didn't dare. She'd fall asleep in seconds and not budge again for hours.
Unfortunately, that didn't give her much to do except look at Cade. Her gaze traveled over his familiar, handsome face. Dirt streaked his temples. A two-day growth of beard lined his lean jaw. Her pulse hummed. In all her life, she'd never seen a sexier man.
Without warning, he opened his eyes. His gaze seared into hers and her breath jammed. Her heart stilled, as if trapped by that heated stare, and she couldn't look away.
And the memory of that kiss swept through her. The frantic hunger, the clawing need. The pulsing surge of desire.
His hot eyes narrowed on hers. "So, who are you engaged to?" he asked.
Thrown by that question, she sucked in her breath. She couldn't lie to Cade, nor did she want to. They'd had too many misunderstandings in the past. They needed honesty now.
"No one, actually," she admitted. She lifted her hand. "Phil asked me. He's a guy I've dated for a couple of years, but I...I haven't made up my mind."
His gaze held hers for a long moment, but she couldn't read his expression. Then he stood. "Why not?"
Good question. Ignoring her protesting body, she rose to her feet and gathered their trash. "No reason. I guess I just needed time. He's a great guy. Steady, dependable."
Like a dog.
Their gazes latched. Cade's accusation hung in the air between them. He lifted his brows, as if daring her to deny it.
Her face hot, she jerked her gaze away. She snatched up her bag and grabbed Dusty's leash, but questions crowded her mind.
Was Cade right? Was she expecting too much from a man? Was she wrong to want her husband to stay home?
Phil wouldn't think so. He never felt the need to roam, and he certainly never sought out risky adventures. His idea of a thrill was cramming in an extra round of golf before the evening sprinklers came on. And he'd gladly spend nights at her side.
But Phil had never kissed her like that.
"We need to head back down the road a half mile, then cut across the valley," Cade said. "We'll look for a game trail to follow."
"All right." Grateful for the change of subject, she quickly fell in beside him. But as she tramped along, trying to ignore her blisters and aches, she faced another harsh fact. If she married Phil, she'd never feel that excitement again. The only man who created that havoc was Cade.
And why was that? She loved Phil, didn't she? Frowning, she skirted a rut in the trail. Of course she loved him. Their relationship was just more mature, based on stability and respect.
Boredom?
Doubt slowed her steps. No, that wasn't true. Of course Phil didn't bore her. He relaxed her, sure, but wasn't that better than a roller-coaster relationship filled with extreme highs and lows? It was certainly easier on her nerves.
But if she loved Phil, then why did Cade affect her so strongly? Was it just lust? A heavy dose of sexual chemistry? Or something deeper?
That thought stopped her cold. Cade glanced back, and she hurried to catch up. Panic raced through her chest. She couldn't still love Cade. No, absolutely not. Loving him meant months of loneliness, reliving the misery of her childhood, being forever left behind.
Besides, she hardly knew him anymore. She'd changed since their divorce. She'd become more independent, more focused on reality, and Cade had probably changed, too.
She slid a glance at his rugged profile, and the cold truth slammed through her heart. Despite the passing years, he hadn't changed that much. He was still the amazing man she'd married. Generous and strong, brave and exciting---and unable to stay home every night.
Unless...Her breath hitched. Was there a chance he'd reconsider? That he'd give up his smokejumping job? Especially now that he was injured....
They reached the end of the mining fence, where the trail switched back and sloped downhill. She cleared her throat, not sure how to broach the delicate subject. "So, are your parents still living on their ranch?" she finally asked.
For a moment, he didn't answer. A Steller's jay squawked in the silence and the pine boughs creaked overhead.
Then he glanced at her, and she saw pain in his eyes. "They died in a car wreck a few years back. They hit a deer and ran off the road."
Oh, God. "I'm sorry. That must have been awful."
"Yeah." Tension carved grooves around his mouth, and he looked away. They hadn't been close; she knew that much. She'd met them once when they'd come to Missoula, and they'd seemed anxious to leave. But no matter how strained the relationship, losing a parent was hard.
Regret formed an ache in her chest. She wished she could have been there to help him, to comfort him in his grief. Knowing Cade, he'd shouldered the stark pain alone.
She reached out her hand to touch him, to let him know that she cared, but then she paused. He wouldn't welcome her solace, not anymore.
And strangely enough, that hurt. She dropped her hand to her side. "So who runs the ranch?"
"A neighbor. I sold it after they died."
Her heart dipped. "You didn't think that someday, I mean, after you'd smokejumped awhile, that you might want to go back?"
"I told you, I hated that place."
"I know, but..." She understood that when he was young, the ranch had made him feel trapped, but surely he'd matured since then. And he loved working outdoors. Why wouldn't he want his own land?
For several moments, neither spoke. They continued down the dusty trail, their long strides evenly matched. The dog trotted quietly beside them.
Finally, Cade slanted her a glance. "Look, you said that growing up, you had trouble fitting in."
"Yes." She sighed. "Maybe if I'd been more outgoing, it would have been different. But it was hard for me to make friends."
Which was why she resisted change now.
She blinked at that sudden insight. Was that true? Did she cling to security? Was she so afraid of rejection that she avoided doing anything new?
And was that why she'd chosen Phil? Out of convenience? She cringed. Good God, she'd turned into a coward. She'd nearly married a man she didn't love because he felt safe.
"I didn't fit in, either," Cade admitted.
Still shocked by her revelation, she forced her attention to Cade. "You mean on the ranch?"
"Anywhere," he said. "In school, in town. I felt like I was in prison. When I was a kid, I'd stand on Main Street, at the end where the highway started, just wanting to bust out so bad. To get on that highway and go. I thought I'd explode if I couldn't leave."
Her heart softened at the image of that restless, frustrated boy.
"But living on that ranch was pure hell," he continued. "It sucked the life right out of me. I wanted freedom, change. Something different to do every day instead of working that same patch of ground.
"No one understood that I was different." He shook his head. "Or maybe my old man did but he just didn't approve. Maybe that's what made him so angry---knowing I'd never come back, that he couldn't control me or make me live out his dream."
"Because you had your own dream to follow," she said, her throat thick.
"Yeah." He stopped in the rutted road. She paused beside him, and lifted her gaze to his. And saw the truth in those gorgeous blue eyes. The stark, unguarded truth. Straight down to the core of the man.
"Smokejumping's not just a job," he said. "It's everything to me. It's who I am."
Dread rolled through her belly. "But you can't do it forever."
"Close enough."
"Even if you're injured?"
His jaw turned rigid, his gaze hard. "I'm fine. My collarbone's cracked, that's all. It's not going to stop me for long."
"But..." She searched his eyes and saw his resolve. He was determined to keep on jumping. But desire alone couldn't make him invincible.
"I know you don't want to quit," she said carefully. "But what if you had to? What if something bad happened?"
"Then I'd join a hotshot crew and work from the ground, or learn to fly and drop retardant. I don't know. But I'd find some way to hang around this world. This is where I belong."
"I see." And, at last, she did. After a childhood of not fitting in, he'd found acceptance, respect, a place where he finally felt right.
A sick, sinking sensation pooled in her gut. And she understood something else now. He didn't jump for the adrenaline rush. He did it because he had to feel free---a feeling that was as vital to him as breathing.
A regular job would do more than bore him; it would crush his soul.
Which meant that the one thing she needed most---that he give up smokejumping---was exactly what he could never do.
J ordan limped along the trail in the midday heat, reeling from her revelation about Cade. So he wasn't the thrill-seeker she'd thought. Her entire perception had been skewed---which meant that she'd misjudged this man badly. And now she had to rethink the past, their marriage, even herself in this new light.
And she might have to admit she'd been wrong.
Unease fluttered through her chest, but she ruthlessly tamped it down. No matter how uncomfortable she felt, she had to get at the truth. She had to peel back those protective layers and take a hard, frank look at the past---and her own role in it.
That was why she'd come to Montana. She'd expected to find validation, to prove she'd been right to leave Cade. Instead, she'd realized she didn't love Phil. That kiss had blasted that illusion, cracking open the door on the truth.
And she couldn't shrink from the rest of it, even if she didn't like what she found out.
And a big part of facing that truth was telling Cade about the miscarriage. He deserved to know about his lost child. She never should have kept that secret.
Guilt blocked her throat at the thought.
"Hold up a minute." Cade stopped and glanced around. "I want to check the map."
"All right." She paused and shifted her weight from her tender ankle, then bent down to pet the dog. She'd behaved badly, all right. She'd fled Montana and ended their marriage, wounding the man she had loved. And when she told him why she left, she would hurt him even more.
Her throat thick, she brushed the dirt from Dusty's coat, and rubbed the soft fur on his head. He whined softly, gazing up with those trusting eyes, and tension slid from her heart. It wouldn't erase her guilt or change the past, but now she had a chance to do something right. She could finally tell Cade the whole truth.
But not here. Not with the fire this close. She'd wait until the danger had passed and he had time to listen.
Cade struggled to open his map, and she quickly rose to help him. "Here, let me get that." She grabbed the ends and held them steady.
"Thanks." His blond brows furrowed as he studied the map. Sunlight filtered through the whispering pines, highlighting the tips of his lashes. Darker bristles shadowed his jaw beneath his hard hat.
Her gaze caressed that rugged face and her pulse began to hum. And that familiar ache came slinking back. She longed to touch him, to stroke that masculine jaw and see need flare in those dazzling blue eyes. To feel the power in those massive muscles and the rocketing thrills when he kissed her.
A gust of wind fluttered the map and snapped her back to reality. The forest fire. Their need to escape.
She sent an uneasy gaze to the south. She couldn't see the fire yet. The forest was calm, the patch of sky above the pines still blue.
But it was coming. She could sense it pulsing, seething as it roiled its way over the mountain. Thundering through the tinder-dry pines, devouring everything in its path---including them, if they didn't get out fast.
Her blood careened through her veins. Jittery now, she looked at Cade, and was startled by how calm he looked, how at ease in this dangerous world.
And for the first time, she realized she had a chance to see beyond the glamour to the reality of his job in a way she'd never had when they were married. To see who Cade really was.
And maybe, what she had lost.
He caught her gaze. "We'll cut across here on this game trail."
"That's a trail?" Surprised, she glanced at the faintly trampled grass leading into the trees, and her respect for him rose. "You certainly have an eye for details." She never would have noticed that path or survived out here on her own.
"It probably leads to a stream," he said. "We'll follow it as long as we can. But things could get rough after that."
"I can handle it." She folded the map and stuck it in the pocket of his PG bag.
He didn't answer, and she lifted her gaze to his. She saw the concern in his eyes, the worry. Not for his own safety, but for hers. He wanted to protect her, just as he always had.
Determined to do her part, she raised her chin. "I can keep up."
"Yeah." His voice gentled. "Just let me know if I'm going too fast or if you need to rest."
"I'll be fine." She'd make sure of it. She refused to slow them down, especially with their lives at stake. And she'd prove that he could depend on her, at least this time.
He dipped his head in agreement, then turned and hiked through the weeds. Intent on keeping up, she ignored her pulsating ankle. She focused instead on the power in his back, the impressive width of his shoulders, the confidence in his lengthy stride.
And couldn't help but marvel. God, he was strong. And not just physically. She couldn't imagine dealing with this terrible tension, this unbearable stress every day. Facing constant danger, taking risks, making decisions that could cost him his life.
"So, how did you decide to become a smokejumper?" she asked.
The game trail widened, enabling them to walk abreast, and he slowed for her to catch up. "I traveled around for awhile after high school. I worked in construction, did some logging, went up to Alaska and hired on with a fishing boat. But I didn't find anything that appealed to me long-term.
"Then, one summer, I joined up with a hotshot crew. I liked the work, the challenge of fighting wildfires. How every day was different.
"But it still didn't suit me. I needed more independence. Fewer rules. That's when I applied to smokejump."
She dodged a low-hanging branch. "You're saying smokejumpers don't have rules?"
"No, we've got plenty of rules. We don't fool around with our lives. But it's different. We're more like a group of individuals working together. We're all committed to the same thing, catching fire, and we can depend on our bros for our lives. But everyone thinks for himself. There isn't that obedience or regimentation."
She could see why that attracted him. Cade wouldn't obey anyone he didn't want to. He was far too independent.
And, to be honest, it was precisely that trait that had attracted her to him, his natural ability to lead.
And she'd followed him heart and soul. She'd leaned on him, depended on him, probably too much.
Uneasy with that thought, she frowned, but she had to admit it was true. He'd overwhelmed her back then. Not intentionally, but he'd been far too easy to cling to. And that hadn't been fair to him.
"The whole idea of smokejumping appealed to me," he continued. "Not only the work, but that so few people could make it. For the first time, I had a goal, something to work for. I'd never wanted anything that bad in my life. To be the best. One of the elite."
To belong.
She understood that now. He didn't jump for the adrenaline rush as she'd once thought. Sure, he enjoyed that part; he was an intensely physical man. But he'd had a far deeper need, beyond the search for freedom. The need to prove his worth, to find acceptance.
And he had that now---esteem, admiration, the respect of his peers.
She eyed his steady stride and acknowledged the truth. Cade was an exceptional man.
And she'd tossed him aside. A sharp slash of regret tightened her chest.
"Hundreds apply every year," he added. "But only a few make it into the program. And some of those wash out of rookie training. Even former marines think it's tough."
Unsettled, she dragged her mind back to the conversation. "And even once you're in, you can't slack off." She'd learned that much at the cabin. "I remember how you worked out all winter to keep in shape."
His gaze met hers, and she knew he remembered that, too. "Yeah, we have to requalify every spring."
The path narrowed again, and she dropped back, ending the conversation. Grateful for the privacy, she gave in to her rising pain and let herself limp. Despite her assurances to Cade, throbbing heat bludgeoned her knee now, and she could barely put weight on her ankle. She longed to lie down and rest.
But if Cade could endure this trek with his injuries, she wouldn't let a few bruises slow her. Not when the stakes were this high.
The path wound through the trees as they trudged along, then dipped into a valley sheltered between the two mountains. The gentle murmur of pine boughs ceased, leaving an oppressive heat in its wake. The buzz of cicadas droned in the air.
But gradually, the stillness gave way to the rush of water, and the welcome scent of moisture. A few yards later, the trail ended at a shallow stream.
Cade crossed it in a few easy strides, then waited for her to catch up. She paused to let the dog lap the water and then gently tugged him across. Knowing Cade was watching, she struggled to hide her limp.
"How's your ankle?"
She grimaced. The man was far too observant. "Just bruised."
He raised a skeptical brow. "We'd better wrap it. I've got an elastic bandage in my bag."
"It's not that bad." And they couldn't afford to waste time.
"It'll get worse. Sit down on the grass and take off your shoe."
Annoyed, she propped her hands on her hips. He ignored his own more serious injuries, yet insisted on pampering hers. "It's really not that bad, Cade. I'd rather keep moving."
"Not until we deal with that ankle." His stubborn gaze drove into hers. "Look, I've had my share of twisted ankles. Smokejumpers land hard all the time. And the sooner we get that thing wrapped, the better chance we have of making that clearing."
"Fine." Frustrated, she plopped herself down in the grass. Phil would have listened to her. He would have kept on walking. But she couldn't push Cade around.
She tucked the leash under her hip to hold it in place and started unlacing her damp shoe. Was that why she'd dated Phil? Because she could control him?
She mulled that over as she worked the laces. Phil certainly wasn't weak, but he didn't challenge her, either. Unlike Cade. When Cade decided something, he didn't budge.
She pulled off her shoe, wincing at the blisters covering her heels. Then she pulled up her pant leg and cringed. Her ankle had turned purple and swollen. And autocratic or not, Cade was right.
She sighed. "I guess I do need to wrap this."
He dropped the bags on the ground beside her, and lowered himself to one knee. "The elastic bandage should help." He pulled it from his bag and held it out. "Here, take off the clip."
While she pulled the small metal clip from the roll, he carefully lifted her foot. His warm, rough hand sent chills along her nerves. But then his thumb slid over her ankle and she flinched. "That hurts?"
"A little," she admitted, although she liked the feel of his hand on her skin.
He slowly rotated the discolored joint, and pain jolted up her leg. She sucked in her breath.
He didn't release his hold. "You need to get this X-rayed."
"I will. As soon as we get to Missoula."
His gaze met hers, and she saw determination in those vibrant blue eyes. "We'll make it out of here," he promised.
"I know."
He held her gaze, as if to convince her, and the years suddenly peeled away. And for a moment, she was back in the time when he'd been the center of her world and dreams. When he'd been her fantasy man come to life. Back in the time when he'd loved her. Her heart fluttered deep in her chest.
But then he broke the gaze and gently propped her foot on his knee. "You'll have to help hold the bandage."
Shaken by the strong wave of longing, she hissed in a breath. "Okay, but don't put too much around my foot or I won't be able to get my shoe back on." She handed him the balled elastic.
He unrolled the end and draped it over her instep. "You'll have to hold this down."
Leaning forward, she pressed the elasticized cloth to her foot. Using his left hand, Cade carefully wrapped her ankle, passing her the roll to complete each rotation.
They worked together easily, a comfortable silence between them, the dog panting softly at their side. Behind them, the gurgling stream splashed past.
And without warning, she recalled another time they'd worked together, that Christmas when they'd decorated the tiny blue spruce. They'd passed the tinsel back and forth around the fragrant tree just like this, sharing promising smiles and molten glances. Until that inevitable passion flared and they'd started to kiss....
The dog nudged her arm, and she cleared her throat. "So, besides sprained ankles, what kind of injuries do smokejumpers get?"
He paused for a second, as if recalling old wounds, and then he slowly resumed wrapping. "Just what you'd expect," he said, his tone cautious now. "Bruises and cuts. Pulled muscles. Burns. Some long-term injuries. Knees take a lot of abuse, and the meniscus eventually tears. But usually nothing too grim."
Usually. She eyed the towel knotted over his shoulder and her nerves drummed. "But you can get hurt pretty bad?"
"Not often, but yeah. Guys get knocked unconscious and cut by chain saws, hit by rocks or worse." He stopped, and his gaze met hers. "Look, Jordan. You were right. This is a dangerous job. Parachutes malfunction. Fires blow up. And when something goes wrong, people can die."
Riveted by his gaze, she swallowed hard. "You never admitted that before." Any time she'd brought it up, he'd brushed aside her concerns.
"I guess when you're young, you feel invincible. You never think it will happen to you." He frowned. "Besides, I was your husband. I didn't want you worrying about my job."
So he'd tried to protect her. That made sense. Only she hadn't seen it that way.
She hadn't seen beyond her own fears to his courage, the fierce commitment to get the job done. To persevere and put out the fire, despite the personal risk.
Or to his need to shelter the woman he'd loved.
And suddenly, trapped in those piercing blue eyes, she felt a deep sense of loss. Cade was the most amazing man she'd ever met, and everything she'd ever wanted. But he wasn't hers anymore---and never could be with his lifestyle.
And yet, she'd loved him.
She still did.
Her heart stalled. It was true. She loved Cade. Despite the years, despite the divorce, her heart still belonged to this man. He drew her in and touched her in a way no one else ever could.
She saw awareness flash in his eyes and her pulse thrilled in response. So he felt it, too. That pull, that wild attraction, that insatiable, soul-wrenching need.
But what did that change? What did it matter? She jerked her gaze away.
And nearly wept at the awful irony. All these years, she'd wanted security. And when she'd finally found a steady man, one who would never leave her, she'd realized she couldn't marry without love.
And the one man she was destined to love, the one who touched her soul and stirred her heart, could never stay at her side.
He made a final wrap on the bandage, and propped her foot on his knee again. "Go ahead and secure it," he said.
Her throat cramping, a huge sense of loss weighting her chest, she worked the small metal clip through the elastic until it caught. "That's great. Thanks."
She managed to curve her lips up into a smile and shift away. Then, feeling shredded inside, she picked up her shoe, loosened the laces and worked it onto her foot.
While she tied her shoe, Cade collected their bags and refilled the canteens. Then she grabbed the leash and stood, allowing her weight to shift to her foot. The bandage felt tight, but it braced her ankle. She just hoped it would get her to that clearing.
"How does it feel?" Cade asked.
"Great."
"Jordan...."
"I'm fine. Really." Except she loved a man she couldn't marry. Ignoring the despair filling her chest, she forced her gaze to his. "Shall we go?"
"Yeah." His brows furrowed, and he looked troubled, as if he wanted to say more. But then he turned away. She waited until he started walking before she slowly fell in behind him.
A deep sense of futility filled her, but she shook the sensation off. She couldn't dwell on what she'd lost, not now. And she couldn't think about the future, or what could never be. She'd just concentrate on the present, getting herself up that next mountain.
No matter how much she ached for this man.
As Cade had predicted, the game trail had stopped at the creek. She let him take the lead, content to plod behind him as he blazed a path through the brush. She skirted huckleberry bushes laden with berries, detoured around alder and fir trees and crawled over decaying logs. Maneuvering through the rough terrain took concentration, giving her a welcome excuse to stay silent. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss her heartbreak with Cade.
But as the yards passed the slope grew even steeper, and her pace dramatically slowed. Her lungs burned, her breathing grew harsh and her chest felt stuffed with cotton. And despite the bandage, her ankle screamed with every step.
"Are you okay?" Cade called back.
"I'm fine," she wheezed out. A sharp branch scratched her face, and she batted it back.
So this was how Cade spent his summers, she marveled. Hiking through the untamed forest, going without showers for days. She wondered how he could stand it. She'd never survive a packout, especially with a hundred pounds of tools on her back.
Smokejumpers were a special breed, all right. She couldn't imagine competing for this job.
Exhausted now, she glanced at the dog. He trotted happily beside her, sending a slither of warmth to her heart. He looked silly with Cade's sock knotted on his collar, and despite crossing the river, he still desperately needed a bath. But at least he wasn't wandering through the forest alone anymore.
A few yards later, Cade stopped. Desperate for the break, she stumbled to a halt beside him.
"You thirsty?" he asked.
She sawed air through her burning lungs and nodded. He turned to give her access to his PG bag, and she gratefully grabbed the canteen. She drank deeply, greedily, relishing the moisture on her raw throat. She paused, wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve and guzzled down more.
With her thirst partially quenched, she handed him the canteen. He took several long gulps and gave it back. She drank again, then recapped it and slipped it into his bag, ready to go.
But he didn't move. Still panting, she looked up.
"Why didn't you sell the cabin before now?" he asked.
Her breath stopped, and all at once she felt dizzy, as if she hadn't the strength to stand up. It was a good question, one she'd refused to answer for years. And one she'd prayed he wouldn't ask.
But she'd dodged the truth long enough. She inhaled sharply to gather her courage, then locked her gaze on his. "I don't know," she admitted. "I guess I didn't want to think about it at first, the cabin, the divorce." The baby. "I hadn't expected you to give it to me, you know. So I didn't really know what to do."
"Your lawyer demanded the cabin in the settlement."
"I...I didn't know. I should have. I'm sorry." She swallowed hard. "I know that's not an excuse. I was young and silly. A coward," she admitted. She'd been so intent on avoiding Cade that she hadn't even questioned the terms. "I just wanted to forget.
"But it didn't work," she whispered. "I couldn't forget. Not the marriage, and certainly not you."
She searched his eyes, hoping he'd understand, but his expression remained blank.
She sighed. "Later on, I thought about selling, but I still couldn't make myself do it." She couldn't sever that last tie to Cade. "And I think...I knew that I had to come back here to face the past. To think about what had happened. But I didn't have the courage until now."
His hard jaw tightened beneath the bristles, and the muscles in his taut cheeks tensed. Then something like regret flashed in his eyes, along with the deep pain she'd caused.
Her heart made a slow, guilty roll through her chest. She'd never meant to hurt Cade. Never. She'd just been so racked with grief herself that she hadn't thought her actions through.
"Cade," she pleaded. She reached out to touch him. "I---"
He jerked back, stopping her cold.
Her throat thick, she dropped her hand to her side. "I'm sorry. I wish...I wish we'd talked like this before."
But they'd fallen for each other too fast. They hadn't given their relationship time, hadn't talked about who they were or what they wanted. Maybe she'd been too young even to know.
Instead, they'd communicated with their bodies and hearts.
"We both saw what we wanted to," he said, his voice quiet. "An illusion."
Dread chugged through her belly. "And what was it you wanted to see?" she whispered.
"A woman who understood me. One who loved me enough to wait."
The woman she could never be.
His jaw rigid, he strode away.
H e'd done it again.
His jaw clenched, his gut churning, Cade strode through the trees up the mountain. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he control himself around Jordan? He should forget their damn marriage and keep it locked in the past. Instead, he kept trying to get closer, probe deeper, to figure out why she'd left.
As if he didn't already know.
Pinecones crunched under his boots. Low branches scratched his face, and he shoved them aside with a scowl. He knew the truth, all right, but he couldn't shake off the sensation that there was something he still couldn't see, something she had kept hidden. Some detail that would help it make sense.
Right. Talk about fantasies. Disgusted, he swatted away another branch. He was pathetic around that woman, like some crazy lemming blinding himself to reality to hurl himself off a cliff.
It was those eyes that undid him. Those hypnotic eyes of hers pulled at him, sucking him under, making him want to ignore the truth. Convincing him she was the woman he'd once believed.
He hissed out his breath and glanced back. Her face flushed, Jordan struggled through the dense brush behind him. Devil's club arched close to her head, its flat leaves trembling as she pushed past.
And as he watched her climb, his pulse still thundering in his ears, he felt his resentment slip. No matter what she'd done in the past, he had to hand it to her now. He'd never seen anyone try so hard.
She wasn't in condition for this trek, wasn't even equipped with good boots. She had blisters on her feet, scrapes on her legs, and she could barely stand on that ankle. And even from this distance he could see her exhaustion.
Yet she hadn't complained even once. Throughout this ordeal she had pulled her weight, determined to keep herself going. She even looked out for the dog.
And it was hard to hold on to his bitterness when she was so damned nice. It would be easier if she whined or complained, even cried. But instead, she was a great companion. She always had been. Easygoing, good-humored, sexy as hell.
The kind of woman he wanted to come home to for the rest of his life.
He shoved that thought away, unwilling to entertain that dangerous yearning. Because no matter how much he wished things were different, he couldn't alter the past.
Panting noisily, she closed the distance between them. Then she stopped, propped her hands on her knees, and gasped for breath. Her cheeks were bright, and her dark hair tangled over her shoulders. Dirt smudged her delicate chin.
But despite her exhaustion, determination gleamed in her eyes, and he couldn't help but feel impressed. She was a hell of a fighter.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm...fine."
"Want some water?"
Still wheezing, she shook her head, sending dark curls wisping around her flushed face. "No, I'm...all right."
He doubted that, but they couldn't afford to rest yet. They were still miles away from that clearing. Worse yet, sheltered in this valley between the mountains, he couldn't tell where the fire was heading.
And that made him damned nervous.
"Hold on." He dropped his PG bag to the ground and pulled his radio from the outside pocket. Ignoring the sharp pain lancing his shoulder, he straightened and keyed the mike.
Nothing happened.
He blinked, checked the switch, and tried again. Still nothing. Dread slinked through his gut. Hell, this was all they needed.
"What's wrong?" Jordan asked, her voice high.
"Looks like the batteries died." His jaw rigid, he jammed the radio back in his bag and pulled out his compass.
Jordan raised her hand to her throat.
"It doesn't matter," he said. He kept his voice even so she wouldn't worry. "They already know where to meet us."
"But how are we doing on time?"
"Great." As long as they flew the rest of the way. He checked the compass, relieved that they hadn't veered off course, then shoved it into his pocket.
"Look," he continued calmly. "There's a lookout ridge just after we get out of this valley. It's probably another hundred yards. If you think you can make it that far, we'll wait and take a rest then."
"I told you, I'm fine."
"Good." He swung the bag back over his shoulder and, once he was sure she was ready, headed off at a steady pace. He'd spotted the ridge earlier that morning, back on the opposite peak. He hoped they could survey the fire from there, especially now that they'd lost radio contact.
Because he sure as hell didn't want to walk into a trap.
And these were perfect blowup conditions. The steep slopes and high winds would increase the speed of the fire. And if that blaze switched paths, tunneling through the valley and igniting below them, they could never escape.
His throat clenched tight, and a cold chill snaked up his spine. He'd seen the videos, completed the training. Knew all about Mann Gulch and Storm King Mountain, when smokejumpers in conditions just like these had found themselves entrapped. They'd streamed up the mountain, dazed and panicked, trying desperately to outrun the flames, sprinting frantically for their lives. A race they were destined to lose.
And the same thing could happen to them here.
His nerves tighter than a parachute's shroud lines, he rammed his worries to the back of his mind, where they wouldn't distract him from the task at hand. Instead, he focused on slugging up the steep slope toward the ridge so he could find the best way to safety.
But his body protested with every step. His skull banged beneath his hard hat. The dull ache pulsing his shoulder now racked him with piercing pain. And if he felt this lousy, he couldn't imagine how Jordan kept up.
He glanced back, and regret surged through his chest. He wished he could help her more. If his damn shoulder would cooperate, he'd carry her over the mountain. She didn't weigh much more than a loaded pack.
Too bad she didn't have crutches. He frowned, wondering why that hadn't occurred to him before. This deep in the forest, he could easily find a walking stick.
He kept an eye out for likely branches as he continued hiking. He had plenty to choose from. It had been decades since a fire had burned through, leaving the area choked with deadfall and brush. Which made the forest ripe for a massive fire, especially in these drought conditions. One good spark, either from lightning or a drifting ember, would ignite the entire peak.
Which didn't help their chances of escape.
He finally spotted a downed branch that looked the right width. He swung the bags off his shoulder, used his foot as leverage to break off the smaller side shoots, then hefted it in his hand. "This should work."
"For what?"
"A walking stick." He turned and handed it back. "Maybe you can take some weight off that ankle."
"Oh." A slow smile spread over her face, lighting her eyes to a golden brown. "I should have thought of that myself. Thank you."
Their eyes held, and for a moment, his world careened to a halt. His breath backed up in his chest, and every nerve seemed to stretch.
He forced himself to inhale. It was only a stick, for God's sake. He hadn't done anything special. But that smile of hers had the most amazing effect on him, making him feel as if he'd conquered the world.
Still feeling off balance, he picked up the bags and resumed hiking. She'd always had that effect on him. She'd made him feel whole, valued, as if he were really worthwhile.
Just like smokejumping did. It was the only place he'd found validation, where he could do everything right.
And he'd do this right, too. He'd get them safely off this mountain.
Focusing back on that goal, he angled steadily across the steep slope, skirting jagged stobs and bushes. A small animal dove into a stand of huckleberry as he passed, rustling through the dense brush and shaking the leaves. Yards later, the trees thinned out, and he turned again to check her progress.
"This is great," she told him as she hobbled up. "Just what I---"
The dog abruptly stopped. The leash went taut and she stumbled, staggering to regain her balance. She thrust out the stick to break her fall just as Cade leaped back and grabbed her.
"Thanks." Wincing, she steadied herself against him.
The contact jolted along his nerves, and he tightened his grip on her waist. She felt soft and warm, and way too good in his arms.
"Are you all right?" he murmured.
"I'm fine. He just caught me by surprise." Her lips curved into a grimace. "But I'm glad I had the stick. I would have fallen without it."
"Yeah." His gaze met hers. The air seemed suddenly thick, and he could barely pull it into his lungs.
She stepped away, her cheeks flushed, and he reluctantly released her. Then she looked at the dog, tugged on the leash, and huffed. "What's wrong? What are you doing, silly? Come on."
She pulled again, but the dog sat down and lifted his nose.
She planted her hands on her hips. "He won't budge. I guess he must be tired."
"Maybe." He watched the dog scent the air. And maybe he smelled something they didn't.
Unease chilled his gut. Even with his better nose, that dog shouldn't smell the smoke yet. Unless the fire had jumped the river and pushed the front over that mountain. Or the wind had shifted early and the fire was heading their way.
Which meant they had to get out of here fast.
"Come on," he said to the dog, his tone brusque. "Let's go."
With a little whine, Dusty rose and trotted forward.
"Well, that's interesting," Jordan said. "He wouldn't listen to me."
Cade grunted, more concerned about the fire than the dog's behavior. He moved quickly back into the lead, staying alert for signs of the blaze. He heard an air tanker rumble in the distance. Dropping more mud, he hoped.
Then the pine branches creaked overhead, and a warm breeze fanned his face. Relieved, he glanced up at the swaying treetops. That wind meant they'd made it out of the valley. They couldn't be far from the ridge.
But then another gust blew past, trailing the faint smell of smoke, and his pulse slammed to a halt. The dog was right. That fire was closer than he'd expected.
"Cade?" Jordan said, her voice pitched high. "Do you smell that?"
"We're doing fine," he called back. "It's just drifting smoke."
Which shouldn't be anywhere near them right now. It was still too damned early. That wind should blow north until tonight.
He balled his good hand into a fist, wishing to God he could see that fire. He hated hiking through this forest blind.
Because if he'd learned anything in his years of smokejumping, it was to trust his instincts. And right now, every nerve in his body urged him to get to that clearing fast.
But Jordan couldn't move any quicker. Even hiking this slowly, the woman had clearly reached her limit.
Hoping to shorten the route, he slanted directly up the steep slope. But then her pace fell off even further, forcing him to drop back. Her breathing sawed in the mountain air.
"I'm sorry," she wheezed when she'd caught up. "I know I'm holding you back."
"You're doing great."
"Hardly." She shot him a skeptical look. "I can't believe you do this for a living. You're in incredible shape."
"You get used to it. And it's not always so rough." He decided it wouldn't hurt to keep talking. It might take her mind off her pain and help her get to the ridge.
And keep him from worrying about that fire.
"The first couple days on a fire can be hard," he said as they continued walking. "The goal is to contain it fast, before it spreads. So that first night nobody sleeps. We automatically push through until morning."
"That must be tough."
"Yeah, but everyone expects it. And strong coffee helps."
Despite her fatigue, she shot him a smile, a genuine one that played along the edges of her mouth and lit up her eyes. He grinned back. She'd always shuddered at the sludge he'd brewed.
"After that, it depends on the fire and how long we stay out there. The fire lies down at night when the wind dies, so that gives us a few hours to rest."
"That's still not much."
"You get used to it." And after a while, it became a way of life. Crawling into his hootch near dawn, filthy and exhausted, his arm muscles trembling, his lungs burning from choking back smoke.
Lying under the moaning pine trees, his body spent, too tired even to doze. Listening to the fire crackling around him and the hypnotic wail of the wind.
And with that exhaustion, in those moments of weakness, the loneliness came creeping back, the vulnerability. The thoughts of Jordan.
When he was too damned tired to fight off the truth anymore. When his anger slipped, and he yielded to that soul-wrenching need. That longing for what he could never have.
The wish that she'd loved him enough to wait.
And despite it all, night after night, he found himself aching for her, wanting her, wondering what he could have done to make her stay.
Another gust of smoke drifted by, and he shook himself back to the present. He glanced at her, and saw she was now limping badly. Her face was furrowed in concentration, and lines of pain etched her brow. That ankle had to hurt like hell, but she still persevered.
And suddenly, he knew that the next time he lay alone in the darkness, he'd picture her like this. He'd remember her spirit, her strength, her determination.
But willpower alone wouldn't get her up this mountain. He had to keep her mind off the pain. "Once we get the fire contained, the work gets easier," he said.
"How? You still have to pack out your stuff."
"Yeah, but that's easier than fighting the fire."
"Right." Her tone told him she wasn't fooled.
"And we don't always pack it out. Sometimes, if we've got a lot of equipment, they do a long-line gear retrieval. That's when a helicopter comes by and picks it up with a net.
"And if the season's really busy, they even fly us out. So we can get back on the jump list and be ready for another fire."
"But not normally."
"No, usually once the fire's out, we pack up our gear and hike to the nearest road. We leave a couple of people behind to cold-trail the fire." A fire could look as though it was out, but still smolder for weeks. So they had to go through on their hands and knees, digging out stumps, making sure it was out.
She wiped her forehead on her sleeve and wheezed in a breath. "I remember. You always stayed behind to do that."
"Choice from the top, boned from the bottom."
"Meaning?"
"That I didn't have a choice. I had to stay. You're not always first on the list."
She blinked. "Oh, I thought..."
"What? That I didn't want to come home?"
"Well, I..."
A stark stab of bitterness jolted his chest. Hell. "How could you think that?" Didn't she know him at all?
"I'm sorry, I---" She cringed. "Oh, God. I assumed you were like my father, living for your job. I...I should have asked."
"Yeah."
And maybe he should have explained.
That thought caught him off guard, and he frowned. He'd figured she understood his world and what he did. But what if she really hadn't?
He thought about what she'd said before. That they hadn't talked much when they were married. She was right. They hadn't explained themselves. He hadn't thought it mattered.
But apparently, he'd been wrong. And suddenly, he needed to redeem himself, to make her understand. Even after all this time.
He stopped. Her dark eyes rose to meet his. "Look, Jordan." He rubbed the nape of his neck. "I like my job. I always have. But just so you know, I didn't want to leave you back then. I wasn't trying to get away."
"I know." Her dark gaze softened. And suddenly, he saw the vulnerability in those beautiful eyes, the doubt.
And he felt like the worst kind of fool. She hadn't understood. Not enough. And that explained so much. Her loneliness. The tears. The fights.
Feeling guilty, he reached out and tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. "I felt lonely, too," he admitted, his voice gruff. "I thought about you all the time. And I always wanted to come home to you."
"Cade, I..." Her voice trembled. Her dark eyes stayed on his. "Thank you," she whispered. "I guess I needed to hear that."
"Yeah." And suddenly, deep in his gut, the tension eased. And the long years of bitterness began to unfurl.
He should have told her back then. It might have made a difference. Or maybe not. He would never know.
And it didn't change anything now. She still didn't want a smokejumper, and he wouldn't give up his job. But at least they'd settled something, put some closure on the past. And maybe regained some trust.
His throat felt thick, his head dizzy. Then a whiff of smoke drifted past on the breeze and he pulled his gaze away. "We need to keep moving."
"I know. Come on, Dusty," she cooed to the dog, her voice lilting. Her gaze met his again as they started hiking. "I'm sorry I'm so slow. I know I'm holding you up."
"You're doing fine, really."
"You'd be farther ahead without me."
He couldn't deny that. "I don't mind the company, though." In fact, there was no one he'd rather be with.
It was true, he realized with a start. He wanted to spend time with this woman. Somewhere in their hike across the mountains, he'd lost the urge to get away.
Which meant his resistance to her was crumbling.
And that put him in more danger than any fire.
S o he'd let himself become vulnerable to Jordan.
Cade battled through the thick mountain brush, that thought mired in his mind. Despite his defenses, she'd managed to suck him back in, luring him with her seductive warmth, that sense of caring. Tempting him with that relentless heat that flared whenever she was in sight.
He locked his jaw against the need to believe her. So what if she seemed sincere? He'd trusted her before, and she'd run off. Was she any more reliable now? Or was she only setting him up for another fall?
Did it matter? They weren't married anymore. They wouldn't need to see each other once they got off this mountain.
He blinked away the sweat stinging his eyes, and sighed. Yeah, it mattered. For some damn reason he couldn't let go of that woman or purge her from his heart. She'd worked herself so deeply into his soul that nothing could pry her loose.
But he couldn't dwell on that now, couldn't let himself get distracted, not with the fire this close. He'd wade through his relationship with Jordan when they were safe.
And hope to God that by then, he could bash some sense into his brain.
He checked his watch, and the unease that had haunted him all day twisted his nerves. Even at their slow pace, they should be close to that spur ridge by now. They'd been hiking for hours.
And he felt every second of it. A jackhammer shrilled in his skull. Hunger gnawed deep in his gut. His shoulder burned so badly that nausea swelled up his throat.
And if he felt this weak, he couldn't imagine how Jordan kept moving. That ankle had to be killing her by now. And they still had miles to go, hours battling through steep, brushy terrain with that damn fire heating their steps.
He just hoped to God that she could make it.
He forged a path around a thick stand of huckleberry bushes and a gust of smoke-tinged wind brushed his face. He looked up, his chest heaving, and glimpsed a slice of sky through the trees. So they'd finally reached the ridge. The tension squeezing his gut slacked. Maybe now he could get a visual on that fire and figure out the fastest way to the top.
Hurrying now, he burst through the last few pine trees onto a rocky ledge. One glance, and his hopes tanked. He couldn't see anything that would help him. Douglas fir towered up both sides of the ridge and obscured his view of the clearing. Straight ahead, a smoke bank piled over the valley, shrouding it in gray.
He turned to warn Jordan as she limped out of the trees behind him. "You'd better stay back. There isn't much room out here." Beyond him, the rock ledge sheered off abruptly, plunging thirty feet to the trees below.
"All right. Come on, Dusty." The dog lunged and bucked, spooked by the strong smell of smoke. Hauling hard on the leash, Jordan dragged him back to the trees.
Cade pulled his own attention back to the mountain. He searched the pines on the uphill flank, but they shielded the clearing from view. Across the ridge on the eastern slope, the trees descended to the thick haze below. Between the peaks, the dense smoke pooled around the mountain, its edges fringed with dark charcoal. Further out, it boiled up white and fluffy, like innocent cumulus clouds.
But that fire was anything but harmless. Bright orange flames flicked through the heavy smoke, like the menacing breaths of a dragon. And beneath that thick cover, the blaze moved steadily forward, shaking the valley with an ominous roar.
And he couldn't tell where it was heading. He dragged his hand over his eyes, rubbing against the sting of burning pine, and wished to hell that his radio worked. He urgently needed an update.
Acknowledging the futility of that wish, he headed back to Jordan. She stared at the smoky valley, her dark eyes huge in her pale face, her smooth jaw slack with fear.
His gut fisted in recognition. He'd seen that same look on the faces of rookies making their first jump from the plane.
And sometimes, a rookie was so damned scared that he froze in the door, unable to make himself leap. That ended his days as a smokejumper.
But unlike the rookies, they didn't have a backup plan out here. A jump ship wouldn't whisk them back to the base if Jordan balked. They had to get themselves to that clearing.
Which meant he needed to calm her down fast. He strode the final distance to the tree line. "Let's take a break and have some water," he said, his tone even. "I could use a rest, and you need to get your weight off that ankle."
Her eyes still wide, she yanked her gaze from the smoke. "But do we have time?"
"A few minutes, anyways." They couldn't stay long, but a brief rest might settle her nerves.
A line furrowed her forehead, but she nodded. "All right. I still have that orange if you want it."
"Sure, as long as you can peel it. I don't think I'd do too well with my teeth."
As he'd hoped, she managed a thin smile, then settled beside him in the parched grass.
"How does the fire look?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"According to the forecast, it should stay on the other ridge, at least until tonight." But anything could happen. And if all hell broke loose, he needed her to keep a cool head.
She looped the makeshift leash around her leg and under her hip to secure it. The dog paced nervously, then abruptly dropped to her side.
"How's your ankle?" he asked.
"Fine." Her lips tightened, and the skin around her eyes pinched. "How's your shoulder?"
He slanted his head. "About as fine as your ankle." He handed her his canteen.
Their gazes caught, and she smiled, an amazingly brave smile that sparked laughter deep in her eyes.
And suddenly, the tension around them eased, and that connection seeped into his blood, that friendship that felt as comfortable as his worn-in smokejumper boots.
Maybe that was why they hadn't talked much when they'd been married. Because just being together felt so damned good.
A blush rose along her cheeks, and she looked away. Wisps of dark, silky hair curled around her chin and tumbled over her shoulders as she raised the canteen to her mouth.
And he wondered how many hours he'd spent just like this, watching her, entranced by her beauty and grace. Absorbed by every detail about her, from the lush, dark lashes fringing her molten eyes to the sensual way that she moved.
She finished drinking, then pulled the dog's bowl from her bag with her gentle hands, filled it and set it down. Still shaking, the dog rose and lapped the water.
She took another gulp from the canteen and gave it back. "Thanks." Her soft lips curved again, and the movement made his body hum. Then she pulled the orange from the bag and peeled it.
He inhaled, forcing air to his mesmerized brain, and eased it back out. She hypnotized him, all right, emptying his head so he couldn't think straight. But for both their sakes, this wasn't the time to lose focus.
He forced his gaze to the burning valley. The fire appeared to be heading north, with the main thrust on the opposite peak. But the haphazard wind gusts could still spark spot fires in any direction. And he wouldn't see them beneath the thick haze of smoke.
"I hope you didn't leave anything important in that Jeep," he said.
She shot him a startled look. "You think the fire got it?"
"Maybe. It's hard to say with the wind shifting back and forth. But I'd guess it jumped the river and is making a hard run over the mountain."
A small line creased her forehead and she frowned out at the swirling smoke. After a moment, she brought her gaze back to his. "That means our cabin's gone, too."
"Yeah." Their gazes held.
And without warning, the air between them hung still, held immobile by the weight of the past. And memories piled up, images of when they'd been happy. Of Jordan smiling, her brown eyes gleaming with laughter. Of Jordan naked, her beautiful face taut with desire. His rapture at being with the one person on earth who met his needs.
The pine trees moaned overhead, and a stark emptiness seeped through his gut, a feeling of loss. Not for the cabin. Anyone could rebuild that. And new pine trees would eventually replace the burned ones, filling in the black.
No, the loss struck deeper, sharper, as if, with the cabin, a time of his life had vanished. And that seemed more final than the divorce.
He watched a series of similar emotions flicker across her face---pain and loss, regret. And suddenly, he saw beyond his bitterness to the truth in her dark eyes. "So you did care."
"Yes." Her whisper sent heat to his chest. "Of course I cared. God, I loved you so much."
But then why the hell had she left?
"Cade, I---" She lifted her hand, then closed her mouth and shook her head.
She didn't continue, and he sucked in a breath. The acrid smoke burned his lungs and pulled him back to the present. The fire. Their survival. That last steep stretch to the clearing.
This wasn't the time to ask questions and rehash their past. He would figure all that out later, after that chopper airlifted them out.
When he had time to demand some answers.
She gave him a section of orange and cleared her throat. "So, it's a good thing we switched directions."
"Yeah."
"But is it...Can the fire---"
"I doubt it." He hated to lie, but she didn't need him fueling her fears. "But I don't really know," he added, compelled to be honest. "The way this wind's shifting, anything can happen."
He swallowed the orange, took a deep slug of water and handed her back the canteen. Thinking hard now, he strode to the ledge to plot their course. To get to the clearing, they had to continue climbing up the south face of the mountain. The trek would be steep and slow, especially with Jordan's sore ankle.
What bothered him was that he couldn't see around the spur ridge. With the tall trees blocking his view, he couldn't see where they needed to go. And if a finger of flame crept off the front and ignited this side...
Dread cramped his gut, and he tamped down the slither of fear. If only he could crank up that radio. He needed an update from dispatch, or for one of those tanker pilots to relay the view from the sky.
But his batteries were dead, and he couldn't call, which meant they had to keep hiking. They didn't have a choice. It was their only way off this mountain.
But he'd damn well better find an escape route in case that fire blew up. And with all the unburned fuel in this forest, he didn't know how he'd manage that. They needed a burned-out section, another rock slide, something that fire would skirt around. And he hadn't seen anything like that for miles.
He strode back to Jordan. She scrambled to her feet, her eyes locked on his. "Are you ready?" she asked, her voice quivering.
"Yeah." He lifted their bags while she wrapped the leash around her fist and picked up her stick.
His gaze met hers again when she straightened. "We're going to keep angling up the mountain. We'll zigzag to make it easier, but it's probably going to be steep. We need to get around to the south side where that clearing is."
"I understand."
Worry lurked in her dark chestnut eyes, along with fear. And he knew that she really did understand. This was it. They might not have another chance to talk. If that fire blasted up this mountain, they'd be running for their lives.
"Cade," she whispered. Her beautiful eyes tugged at his heart.
"Yeah." Unable to resist, he reached out and ran his thumb over her soft cheek. The smooth skin blazed through his nerves, swamping him with sensations, like a gentle voice calling him home.
Her thick, dark lashes shadowed her creamy cheeks as her gaze fell to his mouth. A shiver rose on his skin, and then the world seemed to stop, as if binding them together one last time.
And suddenly, he needed to kiss her, to touch her. To feel that soothing warmth deep in his soul.
As if reading his mind, she inched closer. He angled his head as she closed her eyes, and he slid his lips over hers. He tasted her sultry heat, her delicate sweetness, and felt her gentle breath mingle with his, just as he had a thousand times before and wanted to again.
She trembled against him and her quiet sigh called to his heart. To the part in him that yearned for her comfort, her love.
He cupped her smooth jaw with his good hand and tilted her head up to his. Then he deepened the kiss, moving past comfort into need. Surrendering to the male instincts that pulsed in his blood.
She lifted her hand to his neck, and her gentleness made his heart swell. God, he'd missed her. He'd burned for her, ached for her, during all those lonely nights.
She was sweet and warm, and the sexiest woman he'd ever known. One look, one touch, and urgency ripped through his veins.
She'd clawed so deep into his heart that even after all these years, he couldn't let her go.
But he had to. They had to get moving. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss, then watched as her eyes inched open and her smoldering gaze lifted to his. Desire blurred her eyes, and something more. His heart jerked in recognition.
"Cade," she said, her voice wobbling. She swallowed and her throat muscles moved. "I...I'm glad you're here."
"Yeah." So was he. And he'd figure that out later.
"And I need to tell you, about when I left. I should have told you before, but I---"
"Hey." He smoothed a strand of hair from her cheek. "We'll talk about it later, okay? After we get on that chopper."
"But..." Her luminous eyes searched his. "We might not...What if we don't---"
"We'll make it," he said. He kept his gaze steady on hers. "I promise."
Her forehead creased, and her eyes clouded. She opened her mouth, as if she intended to argue, but then she closed it again. "All right. But you need to know. No matter what you think, I never meant to hurt you."
Her eyes pulled at him, urging him to trust her, and he felt his final resistance slip. His lungs swelled tight. His breath jammed up. And God help him, but he believed her. No matter what she'd done in the past, he knew she was telling the truth.
The dog darted between their legs just then, and she looked down, breaking the spell. Cade sucked in the smoky air and stepped back. "Are you ready?"
"Yes." She managed a tremulous smile, and his heart puffed up. And for the first time, he let himself hope. For what, he didn't know. But suddenly, he had more reasons than just the fire to hurry to that clearing.
Please don't stop, Jordan pleaded silently. She tugged on the leash to get the dog moving again, then scrambled up the slope behind Cade. It was bad enough that she was slowing them down with her bad ankle. If Cade discovered that the dog kept balking, he'd insist that she let him go.
Not that she blamed Dusty for wanting to rest. She'd passed exhaustion miles ago. She plodded along, dazed and dizzy, her muscles trembling, planting one blistered foot in front of the other, stumbling over rocks and branches, just praying that she would stay upright.
And her ankle! A wild moan rose in her throat. She'd managed to hide it from Cade, but the fierce pain roiled through her nerves, making her clammy and nauseous. Leaning on the stick helped her foot, but the pressure had worked her palm raw. She didn't know how she could make it to that clearing.
But she had to. Anxiety pulsed at the base of her skull, threatening to overwhelm her. She'd seen Cade's expression back at the ridge. He'd covered it with his soothing tone, but she knew his nuances well.
He doubted that they would make it.
Because she was slowing them down.
Determined to move even faster, she ignored the punishing pain, and hobbled over a rotting log. Smoke snaked through the trees like a sinister fog, heightening the tension twisting her nerves. And the blasted dog kept lunging and jerking against the leash, trying to bolt downhill.
She yanked hard on the belt to keep him going, then straightened when Cade turned back. He tilted his head and watched her, those blue eyes shrewd beneath his hard hat. "How are you holding up?"
"Great." She flashed her teeth and sucked in her breath, struggling not to limp.
Those sharp eyes narrowed. "Let me know if you need to stop."
"Right." As if they could spare the time.
"It shouldn't be far," he added. "The trees are starting to thin, which means we're near the top." He continued to study her, and she feared he'd insist that she rest. But then a breath of smoke drifted past, and he flattened his lips and turned back.
He hiked several feet ahead of her, his hard hat swiveling as he scanned the terrain. He paused occasionally to pick up some sticks, then resumed his relentless trek.
Jordan trudged along, her gaze focused on Cade's rugged frame, and the guilt she'd been battling surged back. Not just because he was working so hard, and her slow pace could cost them their lives.
No, her remorse struck deeper, darker, to those long, guilty years she'd stayed silent. To the truth that he needed to know. She should have told him about the baby back at the ridge. So what if they hadn't had time? She could have blurted it out.
But she'd been selfish. She'd wanted time to defend herself, to explain. And, just maybe, to forge a relationship for the future.
Could they try again? He turned slightly to look up the mountain, and she studied the hard planes of his face. She loved him; she realized that now. She had never stopped.
But even if he forgave her, could she tolerate his lifestyle? Could she cope with him always being gone? Or would they only argue again?
Because she sure couldn't change who he was.
Anxiety churned through her chest, along with a deep sense of doom. Oh, God. She couldn't think about it. Not now. She hissed in a shaky breath.
Ahead of her, Cade paused and consulted his compass, then angled higher uphill. The trees were sparser now, with dry brush and grass covering the exposed slope. And it seemed quieter suddenly, more still. Or maybe the blood surging in her ears drowned the noises out.
Suddenly, Dusty stopped again. Shaken from her reflections, Jordan stumbled, staggered to regain her balance, and jerked on the leash. But this time, the dog wouldn't follow. Instead, he turned and tried to run downhill.
"Stop!" Gasping against the pain lashing her ankle, she planted her feet and leaned back. He lunged, and she widened her stance. "Stop!" she cried again. She wasn't losing him this time. She gritted her teeth and hung on.
"What's the matter?" Cade called back.
"I don't know." Dusty looked frantic now, thrashing and twisting to get free. "He's trying to go back downhill."
"Oh, hell. Stay here."
"What?" Still fighting for control of the leash, she swiveled to look at Cade. He sprinted ahead and disappeared, and a sudden fear lashed her heart. He wasn't abandoning her. Cade would never do that. She couldn't imagine him running away.
But then, where was he going? What was wrong? She turned her gaze back to the dog.
Behind her, a wind sprang up, ruffling her neck and standing her hair on edge. A sound rose from around the mountain, a muffled rumbling, like the distant sound of a train. It grew louder, closer. Every nerve in her body tensed.
And suddenly, she understood. The fire. Oh, God. She gaped at the wild-eyed dog, his behavior now making sense. The fire had caught them. They weren't going to reach that clearing. They were trapped!
Her knees trembled violently. Panic surged, and a loud throbbing pulsed in her head like an earthquake rocking her brain. She dithered, shuffling back and forth, her muscles stalled, not knowing which way to go. Raw fear clawed at her throat.
And then Cade came sprinting back, his legs pumping wildly, his face more intense than she'd ever seen. He skidded to a stop beside her, swung the bags to the ground and dropped to one knee.
"We have to burn an escape route," he shouted. He threw back the flap on his PG bag and yanked out some long red sticks.
The roar behind them grew louder, thundering through her skull, and the air around them started to shake. Her brain blanked, and she panted, unable to breathe. Her nerves zapped her muscles like the strings on a marionette.
"Help me light the fusees," Cade shouted again. "We have to burn off the grass."
A huge, black ball of smoke roiled through the trees and Dusty pawed to get free. The ground shuddered. Pines swayed. And a huge rush drummed through the air.
"Pull off the tabs and strike them." Cade held out the foot-long sticks.
She gawked at him, part of her brain noting his desperation. He couldn't manage with just one hand.
But she needed to run. Flee! Panic gripped her throat. Frenzied, she jerked her gaze to the slope above her. She had to climb up there and get away.
"We can't outrun it," he shouted. "It's too fast. You have to---"
Thunder shook the air, drowning out what he wanted to say. She looked at him again, her breath puffing in frantic gasps, her mind completely blank.
His mouth was moving. His eyes beseeched her. He was pleading with her, begging her, but she couldn't hear him, even from two feet away.
Then the fire burst through the trees and she screamed. It was here! Sucking and burning, boiling and streaming, billowing and swirling their way.
Oh, God. She had to run. She needed to leave, escape!
No! Her conscience stalled her. She had to stay and help Cade.
She pulled her gaze to his and saw his urgency, his need. He needed her. He always had.
She let out a strangled sob. And no matter what, she couldn't leave him. She'd abandoned him once before; she'd run away when her fears had swamped her, and she wouldn't do it again.
God help her, but no matter what the cost, she wouldn't quit on him this time.
Shaking wildly, fighting every instinct she had to bolt, she forced her feet not to move.
Her palms sweating, her heart quaking, she snagged the leash on her belt loop to keep the dog close, and somehow secured the buckle.
Then she lifted her gaze to Cade's. She saw emotions flash through his eyes, relief and respect, and something else. Pride. For her. Her heart dipped, then ballooned in her chest.
Her gaze locked on his, she reached out and grabbed a fusee.
H er heart careening against her rib cage, her hands trembling harder than a leaf in a windstorm, Jordan ripped the tab off the fusee and yanked her gaze back to Cade. "What now?" she yelled.
She knew he couldn't hear her. Behind them, the fire thundered like a screeching jet plane. But he jerked his head, indicating he'd understood. Moving quickly, he set down his flarelike fusees, grabbed one of the sticks he'd collected, then jammed it into the bottom of the fusee she held.
Understanding now, she helped cram the stick tighter into the flare. The stick extended the length of the fusee, serving as a primitive handle.
Her admiration surged. No wonder Cade had collected the sticks. He'd been preparing for this moment, watching for signs that the fire would blow up, planning ways they could survive.
Gratitude slashed through her fear, along with a swell of determination. Cade had done everything for her. Now she had to do her part. She couldn't let him down.
The wind pushed smoke over their heads again. She coughed, the acrid taste scorching her lungs, and shot a frantic glance toward the crest of the hill. Thick, dark clouds mushroomed up from the fire and billowed toward them. Bright orange flames whipped high and flicked through the rolling smoke.
Her skin prickling, her heart quailing, she blocked out the horror and focused on Cade. He grabbed the tab from her hand and peeled back the paper, then struck it against the fusee. It sparked, made a hissing sound she sensed, rather than heard above the oncoming roar, and spewed out sulfury smoke.
He dropped the tab, grabbed the fusee, and held it down to the grass. The parched grass smoked, then flared, sending a vivid orange flame streaking uphill.
And suddenly, she understood. The main fire wouldn't go through an area that had already burned. Deprived of new fuel, it would have to skirt around it. So if they burned off the grass and got inside it before the flame front reached them, maybe they could survive.
But did they have enough time? Her heart rocketing, she glanced at the fire again. The front charged toward them, streaming up through the parched pines, surging and pulsing, and exploding in piercing orange flames. Her nerves quaked, and she panted in shallow breaths. Oh, God. It was so fast, so big. How on earth could they beat it?
But they had to try. Frantic now, she kicked herself into action. She snatched another fusee from Cade's pile, rammed a stick extension in it, pulled off the tab, and lit it. She spared another glance at the booming fire, shuddered, then grabbed the remaining fusees and ran after Cade.
She waved her arm to get his attention, and he motioned to his right. Jerking the leash to keep the dog moving, she rushed along and lit the baked grass. Her nerves hopping, steeling herself against the fear that threatened to freeze her, she tried to block out the horrible roar and concentrate on her job. Fanned by the wind, their small fire raced up the grassy slope, surrounding them in a sea of flames.
Beside her, the dog twisted and charged in terror, twining around her legs and blocking her path. She grabbed the leash and yanked him out of her way. She didn't dare cut him loose; he could never outrun the fire. His only chance to survive was to stay with them.
Her panic building, struggling to control the dog and set the fire, she staggered alongside Cade. The strong sulfur smell of the fusees mixed with the acrid smoke, making her want to retch. She coughed and gagged, then blinked her stinging eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
The fire boomed, and the thundering behind her grew harsher. A sob wedged in her throat, and she lurched faster, desperate to pick up her pace.
Cade sprinted back just then, his eyes fierce. Moisture streaked down his gaunt cheeks, cutting a path through the grime. He pried his spent fusee off the stick with his boot, and reached for hers.
She traded with him, grabbing his empty stick in return. While he darted back to burn more grass, she lit another flare.
Suddenly, a huge swooshing noise pulsed behind her, and, terrified, she swiveled back. A wall of flames raced toward them, twisting high into shocking funnels. Flying embers flashed through the billowing smoke. The fire shot from the trees and exploded into the air.
Then firebrands rained around them, sparking more grass. Trembling wildly, unsure what to do, she wrenched her gaze back to Cade. She felt paralyzed, frantic, torn in a thousand directions. She had to move, get away from the fire, but she didn't know where to go.
Cade turned toward her and yelled something, then motioned urgently with his arm. Understanding slashed through her hysteria. He wanted her to go up.
Terrified, praying to God that they could escape, she lunged forward and followed Cade across the charred grass. But then the dog abruptly stopped, and Jordan fell to her knees. She landed hard, singeing her palms and knees on the smoldering grass, and immediately surged to her feet. She jerked hard on the leash, but Dusty refused to budge.
Panicked, she yanked on the leash again, but the dog only hunkered down. A frenzy rose inside her. They had to run. The fire was nearly here!
A blast of hot wind swirled smoke from the blackened grass and into her face. Fueled by fear and adrenaline, every nerve in her body screaming to flee, she tossed aside her fusee, hoisted the quivering dog to her hip and darted after Cade.
A thought skittered through her brain, warning her that she should feel pain in her ankle and heat from the flames, but the terror jolting her mind blocked it out. She had to run. Run! Her heart pumping madly, her chest heaving, she sawed in air and sprinted uphill.
Cade charged ahead of her, stooping to torch the dry grass. A hot wind blasted their backs, and their little fire picked up speed, racing up the steep slope. Her vision blurring, her chest searing, Jordan chased the bright line of flames.
Suddenly Cade tossed aside his spent fusee and turned back. Their eyes met, and for an instant, his vivid blue gaze held hers. She saw his fierce concentration, his focus on the job. Gratitude swept through her, along with the sharp urge to cry. God, this man was brave.
Then a pounding, swooshing sound rose, and Cade's eyes flicked to the fire behind them. Her nerves jerking in disjointed spasms, Jordan stopped and turned toward the noise. Before she could look, Cade grabbed her arm and yanked her back into motion.
She stumbled, trying desperately to keep her balance while lugging the dog, and somehow pulled herself upright. Then she bolted straight up the mountain with Cade, pursuing the fire they'd set. She hauled scorched air into her lungs, breathing in ragged gasps, her throat and raw chest rasping.
Heat blasted her back, and the fierce roar pounded her skull. She tripped over rocks and uneven ground, over charred and smoking stumps. She pushed herself faster, harder, urgency fueling her steps. Embers flew past, the smoke swirled thicker and her horror grew.
They weren't going to make it. They couldn't possibly get away.
But they had to. She clutched the shaking dog, frantic not to drop him. He needed her to go on!
She kept sprinting, her feet pounding, but she could feel her exhaustion mount. She focused on Cade's strong hand gripping her arm, but still the doubts slithered in. Oh, God. She'd never make it. She was far too weak.
She would fail him, just as she had in the past.
And then a strange calm overtook her, and she felt detached, distant from her body. Smoke blurred her vision, darkening the landscape and cutting out light. The world looked surreal, bathed in a hot gray haze, bizarre.
They bounded down a slight incline, then hurdled a burning log. The fire was everywhere now, roaring and hissing beside them, the heat unbearably intense.
She ran on and on. Sprinting, climbing, leaping. And she was growing confused. She was running with Cade, clutching the dog, urgency hammering her brain, but she couldn't remember where they were or why they were racing. She only knew that she couldn't stop.
Suddenly, Cade jerked her hard to the right. She stumbled, nearly dropping the dog, and staggered to a stop. Cade pulled her toward him, and she lurched closer, staring blankly at a mound of boulders.
The air trembled, blurring her vision, and the ground beneath her rumbled and shook. She swiveled back and cringed at the fire raging toward them. Flames twisted and arced through the trees, whirling like gaseous tornadoes. A ball of flame launched itself into the air.
Cade yanked her around and pushed her toward the boulder. She saw a slit between the rocks, barely enough to squeeze through, and understanding flashed. Holding the dog close, she wriggled through the crack into a dim, musty space. Cade immediately crammed himself in behind her.
They were in a small cave, maybe a dozen feet deep and wide and barely high enough to stand in. The packed-dirt floor was littered with stones.
"We need to block the opening," Cade said, dropping the bags.
Jordan set down the dog, then tripped when he slammed against her. Hysteria plucked at her nerves. She couldn't help Cade if she kept stumbling over the leash. And Cade needed her help to survive.
Which meant she had to let Dusty go.
Her hands trembling, she unhooked the leash from her belt, then wedged it beneath a large rock. The dog immediately tried to pull free.
"Stay," she said sharply and stepped away. She could only pray the leash held. She didn't have time to hold him, and she couldn't help him if he darted outside.
Her throat thick with dread and panic, she set to work, frantically lugging rocks over to block the entrance. She dashed back and forth, piling the stones quickly, haphazardly, rushing to stop the smoke creeping through the cracks. Outside, the deadly roars and thundering grew.
Behind her, Cade pulled something from his PG bag. Silver flashed in the fading light as he shook it out.
His fire shelter. The last line of defense. The final chance to survive.
He held out the metallic fabric. "Here. Put this between the rocks."
"No." She backed off. He needed that tent. He could survive inside it without her. And she'd hindered him enough.
"Jordan---"
"It's yours. You use it."
"The hell I will." His voice bristled with outrage. "Either stuff it between those rocks or I'll flatten it over you."
He'd do it. She could see the obstinate will in his eyes, that single-minded resolve, and knew it was futile to argue. Unless she agreed to share the shelter, he'd sacrifice his own life protecting hers.
And she refused to let him do that.
Resigned, she grabbed the lightweight fabric and smoothed it over the rocks. Her heart beat erratically as she scooped up loose stones and stuffed them in the cracks to secure the edges. The light dimmed as she blocked up as many spaces as she could. Cade added several heavier stones so the shelter wouldn't blow off.
After a moment, he stopped her. "That's good enough. We need to get back."
She blinked in the shadowy darkness. Light still filtered through some gaps in the rocks, but she knew they'd run out of time. Outside, the deafening noise mounted, screaming and screeching like colliding trains. Shaking, so scared she thought she might vomit, she covered her ears and cringed.
Cade grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the back of the cave. "Wait," she cried. "The dog." She stooped down to jerk the leash loose, and dragged him to the far wall.
Cade urged her down to the ground, then positioned himself beside her, wedging her between him and the musty dirt wall. She hauled Dusty into her lap and held him close. Quivering madly, shuddering with terror, she curled herself into a ball.
She couldn't breathe, couldn't think as the heat mounted and a throbbing blast pulsed outside. She closed her eyes, and Cade pulled her head to his chest, covering her with his body.
This was it. The moment of truth.
She could only thank God Cade was with her, and pray that they would survive.
C ade sheltered Jordan with his body as the firestorm raged around them. Heat scorched his back. His pulse rocketed through his veins. The hairs on his nape stood erect and tensed in the rising storm.
The air around them quivered, and a bone-rattling screech shook the cave. The earth trembled, the skies shrieked as the molten gasses collided. Vibrations blurred the hot air.
His lungs seized up and his heart stalled. Sweat popped from his pores, and he gagged down his acrid fear. This was it, the moment when they'd see if the shelter held, if they'd burned enough grass to protect the cave.
To find out if they would survive.
Time hung still. An eternity pulsed in a second. He clutched Jordan and shut his eyes, every nerve focused on the explosions blasting the cave.
And then miraculously, incredibly, the deadly noise shifted away.
He slumped in acute relief, then tipped back his head and exhaled. His heart battered against his chest, and his muscles began to twitch.
And for the first time, he let the reality sink in of just how close that had been. They'd nearly died.
He'd seen the training videos, attended classes on fire entrapments, but nothing had prepared him for the reality of it happening to him. The absolute panic, the disbelief, the horror when the fire blew close. And that gut-shaking terror when he'd realized they might not survive.
If it hadn't been for the dog...He loosened his death grip on Jordan and glanced down at the quivering fur on her lap. If that mutt hadn't balked, hadn't warned them that the fire was near...
He swallowed the thick wedge blocking his throat, unwilling to finish the thought. But the truth remained. That dog had given them the valuable seconds they'd needed to survive.
And they had survived. His hand still twined in Jordan's hair, he gently stroked her scalp to soothe her and pressed her head to his chest. Trembles wracked her body, and she shuddered with anxiety and fear.
"Shh...." he murmured. He cleared his throat, fighting to get words past the lump. "We're safe now. The fire's gone."
"Oh, God," she said, her voice muffled against his shirt. Still shaking, she pulled back, and her fathomless gaze met his. Her eyes glistened in the cave's dim light. The remnants of tears streaked her cheeks, cutting paths through the ashes and grime.
But he'd never seen a more beautiful woman.
A fierce swell of emotion surged up, relief mixed with something more, that feeling he'd been fighting for days.
Love. He loved Jordan. He always had.
It was true. He'd stopped denying it the moment she'd reached for that fusee. He'd seen her horror and panic, the primitive urge to escape. But despite her terror, she'd stayed.
A thick wad of emotion choked his lungs, and he tightened his grip on her head. He could only imagine the courage, the incredible leap of faith that had taken. She wasn't a trained firefighter, didn't know wildfire behavior or the futility of running. Yet she'd ignored her instincts and trusted him.
And in that moment, he'd stopped trying to fool himself and admitted how much he loved her---this brave, gutsy woman who'd once been his.
He caressed the silky strands of her hair, ran his gaze over the smooth curve of her cheek and the feminine line of her jaw.
Her wide, dark eyes searched his, as if she couldn't grasp that they were safe. Shudders still shook her body, discharging the adrenaline and fear, the need to run, the primal instinct to flee. And he continued to stroke her head, her neck, knowing she needed the warmth, the human contact.
So did he.
"You did great out there," he said, his voice raw from emotion and smoke.
"Is it...Are you sure it's gone?" Her voice hitched on a little sob.
"Yeah, it's gone. Listen."
Her gaze flew to the entrance to the cave, which they'd been damned lucky to find. In the distance, the dull roar slid away, replaced by muffled pops. Still trembling, she gnawed her bottom lip.
Seconds later, her gaze swiveled back to his. "It won't come back? It---"
"No, it's done." He squeezed her neck to reassure her. "There'll be a few stumps burning, even some flare-ups, but as hot as that fire was, I doubt there's much left to burn."
She jerked her head, and a tremor jolted her body. Her lips quivered, and she sucked in a tremulous breath.
He saw the awareness in her eyes of just how close they'd come to dying. The stark realization that they could have burned, that the charred remains of their bodies could be out there right now, writhing and smoldering in the ashes.
"Oh, God, Cade."
"Yeah." He smoothed the knot tensing her neck and stroked the smooth skin of her nape. Then he shifted his hand to her rigid shoulders.
The dog crept off Jordan's lap, and she lunged for the leash.
"Don't worry. He can't go anywhere."
"You're right." She dropped the leash and sat back, then eased out an uneven breath. Her lips strained into a smile. "I'm just so nervous, I---"
"Hey, it's normal. Just give yourself time to come down."
Urging her back, he threaded his hand through her hair, and continued soothing her neck, giving her time to absorb the outcome, that they were safe. She leaned into him, and as the minutes passed, her breathing slowed and deepened. Her shivering gradually calmed.
And his awareness shifted to the pain ramming his shoulder, the persistent hammering in his skull. The hard dirt floor beneath him. The smoke permeating the air, mingling with the dank smell of the cave.
And Jordan's soft body pressed against his, beautiful and feminine and arousing.
Desire flashed through his veins, and his hand instinctively tightened. Battling the reaction, he tipped back his head and sucked in a breath.
He loved her; he couldn't deny it anymore. And everything about her appealed to him---the way she looked, the way she moved, the tender way she cared for the dog. Her hard work, her amazing courage. The woman had seeped into his brain and conquered his heart.
But he still couldn't forget reality, couldn't let his emotions override common sense. And the harsh fact was that she was wrong for him. No matter how much he loved her, she needed what he couldn't give her, a man who always stayed home.
And he could never be that man, not without destroying his soul.
And yet she felt perfect in his arms, and in his life. She shifted then, and their thighs touched. Her soft, full breasts pressed against his chest. The silk of her hair tickled his mouth.
She lifted her head and her eyes met his, her face just inches away. Her pupils dilated in the dusky light. Her pink tongue moistened her lips. She hitched in a ragged breath.
His hormones jerked in recognition. She wanted him. His answer rolled hard through his veins.
"Cade," she whispered.
"It's just the adrenaline," he ground out. "The near-death experie---"
"No." She raised her hand to his mouth. Her fingers clamped his lips, silencing him. The feel of that soft skin staggered his senses, and need coiled tight in his gut.
He leaned back and grabbed her wrist to push her away, but she inched forward, her dark eyes simmering on his. His lungs stalled, and he felt snared by that luminous gaze, lured into her erotic web.
And in that instant, he knew he was doomed. He needed to touch her, to taste the seductive heat of her skin. To feel her satiny body shudder under his.
His gaze locked with hers. Deliberately, he turned her hand and brushed his lips across her palm. He raked the delicate skin, skirting the scrapes, then soothed the spot with his tongue. She gasped, and the need in her eyes flared. His thumb skimmed her wrist, and he felt the erratic lurch of her pulse.
Her eyes softened into liquid darkness, and then her lids fluttered closed. Her full lips parted, and her breathing rasped faster, more shallow.
He dropped her wrist and caught her chin, then slanted his mouth over hers. He forgot the pain wrenching his shoulder, the filth and sweat, the fire beyond the dank cave. His world narrowed to the velvet of her lips, the lush, hot silk of her mouth, and he pulled her hard against him.
She parted her lips and kissed him back. Her hands clutched his hair, and her tongue dueled with his, reeling him in deeper and harder.
Maybe it was the affirmation of life, the need to connect after nearly dying. And maybe it was love, the explosion of desire long denied.
But whatever the cause, his control slipped even more. That familiar haze fogged his brain, that insatiable heat. The heady feeling that he'd found the one woman on earth who felt perfectly right.
And was, ironically, exactly wrong.
With supreme effort, he wrenched away and pulled her head to his chest. His heart slammed against his rib cage. His breathing rasped in the smoky cave. He shut his eyes and grappled for control.
He had to stop. A kiss was one thing, but they'd strayed far too close to that dangerous edge, that line that they couldn't cross. It had always happened that way between them---too fast, too hot. Reckless need and relentless wanting.
But they couldn't give in to it again, not without regrets. Not without plummeting to that insanity that guaranteed turmoil and pain.
But she pulled free and rose to her knees. "Cade, please," she begged.
"No. It's just---"
"No, it's not." She clutched his head between her hands and her gaze pleaded with his. "It's not just the fire. It's more. It always has been. I need you. I---"
"Jordan, no." But he felt his resistance crumble.
"I need you," she whispered again. "Please."
She brushed her lips over his and kissed him again, letting him feel her desire. Working her magic with her body and tongue, fueling the torment, stoking the flames.
He felt her rush of hunger, the passion in her kiss as her hands roved his face and his jaw. Her breasts stroked his chest. Her kiss turned raw and urgent. His own needs shut down his brain.
She was good. Damned good. And hell, he was only human. She wanted him; he wanted her. Was that so wrong? And they'd almost died just now. Why shouldn't they indulge in a moment of pleasure?
With a low growl, he wrapped his arm around her waist and yanked her hard against him. Then, pulling her with him, he dropped back to the packed-dirt floor.
She landed atop him, then pulled herself upright. "Cade." Her lips were swollen, her voice breathless. "Your shoulder---"
"Forget it." It throbbed like hell, but not as much as the ache in his groin. His pulse beat hot and hard as he pulled her head down to his. Then he covered her mouth in a deep, driving kiss, fueled by years of wanting.
He felt the satin of her lips, the fever of her tongue, her soft shudders as he delved her sweet depths. He smelled smoke and desire, and woman. Jordan. His woman. Her scent surrounded him, invaded him, until stark need twisted his gut. Until hunger seeped so deep into his heart that it wiped out every thought---except the overwhelming desire to possess her.
Needing physical contact, needing to feel her body tight against his, he lowered his hand to her hip and pressed her back. Her soft weight settled on his groin, shorting his nerves. She rocked against him, making soft, low moans in her throat, and his heart leaped in tattered spurts. A thick, quick surge of desire jolted through him, and he groaned.
And suddenly, he needed to see her, all of her, to feel her hot, naked skin slick on his.
As if sensing his thoughts, she broke the kiss and rose to her knees. Her languid eyes rested on his, hot and dark with arousal. Her hair fell in unruly waves down her back. Her swollen lips parted in an erotic invitation to bliss.
His gaze traveled from that sultry mouth to the tantalizing curve of her breasts. To the nipples jutting beneath the tight T-shirt, beckoning for his touch.
His hand trembling, he reached up and traced the outline of her curves through the thin shirt. He stroked the tempting fullness and fondled the pebbled nipples, feeling her tremble and shudder around him.
"Oh, Cade," she whispered, her voice uneven. She reached down and lifted the hem of her shirt, then yanked it over her head. His gaze stalled on the wonder of her breasts, the stretchy scrap of lace highlighting the blinding perfection.
He tried to swallow, but his throat seemed stuffed with ashes. He wrenched his gaze to hers and saw the scalding heat, the growing hunger. The memories of those steamy, torrid nights. Of how they'd loved each other, with an honesty and passion that had left them reeling.
She flicked one strap off her shoulder and let it drop. His gaze followed the motion, just as she planned. He quirked his mouth, recognizing the ploy, but still helpless to resist it. She knew him too well. And she wielded the power to drive him wild.
It was as if this one woman had been made to match his body, his mind. As if she were his ideal counterpart, his destined mate.
And no matter how many times they'd come together, it had never been enough. He'd still felt that unending hunger and constant craving.
The other strap slid off her smooth shoulder and his pulse roared through his veins. And then she rose, lifting herself out of reach, and unhooked her bra.
The lacy scrap fell away and his gaze riveted on the swell of her breasts, the dark nipples glistening in the dim light, the utter beauty of her bare flesh.
His pulse pounded as he dragged his gaze up to hers and their eyes latched. And she mesmerized him with her need, seduced him with that slow, savage burn.
The snap on her jeans popped, and his blood leaped in expectation. The zipper rasped in the scorching silence, while his blood surged hard in his ears.
She rose to her feet and stepped aside. His gaze fell to her flat, satiny belly, to the provocative arch of her hips. Her thumbs hooked the waistband of her jeans and she inched them over her legs, down her long, lean muscles and velvet skin. His fingers curled, then flexed, yearning to skim the curving length.
His gaze fastened on the final scrap of lace glimmering in the dim light. His breathing grew labored and his heart rammed against his rib cage.
She pushed the lace down, then kicked it free. His feverish gaze swept over her, lingering on the dark thatch between her thighs and the luscious peaks of her breasts. Desire ripped through him, urgent and hot.
His gaze drove into hers. And he saw the answering heat, the clawing need. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sultry---with arousal and something more.
She stood before him, completely naked, exposed to his fervent gaze. Hiding nothing. Vulnerable.
The look faded from her eyes, but he felt the effects down to his soul. As if she'd reached out and twisted his heart. And instincts surged, beyond lust, to the deep-seated need to protect her, to guard her heart and keep her safe.
Thick, fierce emotions wadded his chest, and suddenly, he knew that this moment was different. That they'd experienced a connection, an honesty they'd never shared before.
But then she lowered herself to him, sliding her bare legs over his hips, and the sight of her naked skin on his fully clothed body emptied his mind. She rubbed against him, stroking the hard, rigid length of him in a movement so erotic that pleasure bolted straight to his groin.
He cupped her breast and watched her limpid eyes close. Her head tipped back and her full lips parted. Her wild hair tumbled over her back.
His body was rock hard now, his muscles rippling with impatience. "Jordan." His voice sounded dredged from the earth.
"Yes." She shifted to one side and unzipped his pants. And the feel of her gentle hands on him nearly made him weep.
Almost unable to form a coherent thought, he grasped for sanity. He forced his throat to work. "Jordan, wait. I---I don't have anything, any protection."
Her eyes met his, and he saw the flash of pain. And he remembered when they hadn't needed protection, when they'd made love skin to skin.
"It's all right," she said. "It's not the right time."
"But---"
"It's all right, Cade. I promise." And then she slid over him and took him slowly into her body. Into the hot, tight flesh, to the delirium of pleasure. And the protests died in his throat.
He gave in and surrendered to rapture. And she moved against him, scalding him with her heat, stoking the flames, creating a need so violent that it dragged a groan from his heart.
He surged upward, driving into her, and felt her unravel. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her forehead furrowed. Her eyes closed and her lips parted, and she let out a keening cry.
He hooked his arm around her neck and pulled her face down to his. And then he fused his mouth to hers, claiming her, branding her with a deep, torrid kiss with no restraints. Honest and savage and raw.
And then he gave one last thrust and exploded inside her. Waves of pleasure jolted his senses. Dire need melded with bliss. He was where he belonged, with the woman he loved.
And as the tremors slowly ebbed, and the urgency subsided back into need, he wondered again how she could have left him, how she could have tossed this amazing love away.
The whomp of an approaching helicopter crept into the silence. It grew louder, its rotors thumping as it passed over the cave. Their ride home had finally arrived. And the spurt of relief he felt was mixed with a strange reluctance.
Jordan lifted herself to her knees, looking dazed, then wobbled to her feet. Her gaze met his for an instant, guilty and grim, and then it skittered away.
And his frustration surged. What the hell did that look mean? Was she suddenly having regrets? She was the one who'd insisted.
Tired of her games, he rolled to his feet and zipped his pants. And without warning, the weight of the past ordeal pressed upon him. His body felt flayed, his stomach empty. Pain rammed his skull. His shoulder shuddered and ached.
And the futility of it all overwhelmed him, draining the last trace of pleasure from his blood. And he felt angry, damned angry. He was tired of being jerked around, sick of her damned evasions. Always wondering, never knowing. And he wanted answers now.
He turned to face her. She'd put on her jeans and bra, and had her T-shirt poised in her hand. Her gaze met his, and she paused.
His jaw hardened. His stomach clenched, and he moved deliberately closer. She stepped back. He leaned into her space, trapping her, until her dark eyes widened and her skin paled under the ashes. The scent of their lovemaking lingered in the air, stoking his anger into rage.
"So," he said, his voice completely flat. "Just why the hell did you leave?"
J ordan felt the blood drain from her face, and she froze. She stared into Cade's furious blue eyes, her heart beating a fast, irregular rhythm against her throat. This wasn't how she'd wanted to tell him. Not with him angry. Not with the helicopter circling outside.
Not when the most tender, exquisite experience of her life still pulsed in her nerves, lovemaking so perfect that it had shattered her heart.
Hardly breathing, she dropped her gaze to the T-shirt balled in her fist. She pried her fingers loose and shook it out, feeling suddenly exposed. Needing to regain some distance, she pulled the soiled shirt over her head and smoothed it down.
And braced herself for the confrontation. Even if the timing wasn't ideal, Cade needed to know the truth. He'd deserved to hear it ten guilty years ago.
And she couldn't put it off any longer.
Her stomach tensing, she forced her gaze up to his. A muscle in his cheek ticked, and his lean jaw tightened beneath the stubble.
She hitched in an unsteady breath. "When you left on that last trip, I...I was pregnant."
He blinked. Then his jaw slackened, and for a second he looked stunned, as if she'd said the last thing he'd ever expected.
But then his expression stilled and his eyes turned blank. His wide shoulders stiffened, and she realized he'd misunderstood.
"Cade, no." She reached out to touch his arm and he flinched back. His rejection flayed her, like a whip on her raw nerves. "I didn't...I mean, I lost the baby. I miscarried. I didn't---" Oh, God. "I never would have had an abortion."
A dull red stain inched up his neck, but his expression only turned colder. And she realized she was botching it badly. Everything was coming out wrong.
She twisted her hands, then rubbed her palms on her thighs, searching for a way to explain. "I found out just after you left."
"And you didn't think I needed to know?"
The flat fury in his tone made her cringe. "Of course I did. I wanted to tell you right away. I was so happy and excited, and I wanted that baby so badly. But I wanted to tell you in person, to see your face when I broke the news."
She had envisioned that romantic moment, had played it all out in her head. The music and candles. The tenderness in his sexy blue eyes. The joy.
"I thought you'd be coming back soon," she whispered.
She searched his eyes, hoping for some sign of softness, but his hard face stayed unrelenting. And a sinking feeling filled her gut. He wasn't going to make this easy---which was probably what she deserved.
"And then, when you called to tell me you'd gone to Alaska, I just...I felt abandoned, betrayed." Crushed by the anger and hurt. Dazed that the man she had trusted had left her, and that her worst fear had finally come true.
She forced air into her lungs. "I started cramping after that. And I..."
She closed her eyes, remembering the panic and fear. She'd been nineteen years old and surrounded by strangers, more alone than she'd felt in her life.
She clutched her trembling hands together, then gestured, helpless to stem the old pain. "I didn't know what to do. I drove to the hospital. They told me there wasn't anything I could do, that I just needed to rest. So I went back to the apartment."
She shifted her gaze to the cave's dark wall, her mind focused on the agony of the past. How she'd lain on that sagging plaid couch, scared and lonely, afraid to move, and desperately needing Cade.
"And then...I just started bleeding and it wouldn't stop." She pressed her fingers to her lips and closed her eyes until the horror passed, until the shocking visions receded. Then she fixed her gaze on Cade. "And I drove back to the hospital."
"Alone?" A muscle twitched in his cheek.
"Yes, I...They admitted me, but I still lost the baby." Her chest wadded up with remembered feelings, that soul-numbing pain and grief. The guilt that she'd done something wrong and had somehow been to blame.
And as she'd lain there in that hospital bed, her hopes and dreams crashing down, the harsh reality had sunk in. She wouldn't have that cozy family. Cade wanted to smokejump more than he loved her. She was alone, abandoned, just as she'd always feared.
He worked his jaw. "And you didn't call me." It wasn't a question. They both knew that she hadn't. The base would have patched an emergency message through.
"I didn't think..." She spread her hands. "I thought you wouldn't want---"
"To come back when my wife was in the hospital?" He stared at her, his face etched with disbelief.
A tight ball formed in her chest. "I thought you'd rather stay on the fire."
"Hell." The muscles along his jaw tensed, and he curled his hand into a fist, looking angrier than she'd ever seen him. "You didn't give me a goddamn chance."
She couldn't deny it. She had made assumptions, big ones. And she hadn't let him decide. "You're right," she whispered. "I'm sorry."
His eyes narrowed in disgust, and then he turned and stalked to their bags. Despair spiraled through her as he hefted them up.
"Cade," she pleaded.
He strode to the entry without answering, and in one furious movement yanked his fire shelter loose.
Stones fell and crashed around him, and the dog bolted to the back of the cave. Sunlight slanted through the rising dust, and he kicked the loose rocks aside. Then, without looking back, he twisted out of the opening and disappeared.
A sick, heavy feeling churned through her belly, and suddenly, like the pile of stones falling, the truth tumbled in on her, sucking the air from her lungs. She'd told herself he didn't care, that he loved smokejumping more than her.
But it wasn't true. He would have come home. He would have rushed to her side if she'd called him. He never would have ignored her needs, her pain, no matter how busy he'd been. He wasn't that kind of man.
She raised her hand to her throat. Of course Cade would have come back, and he would have mourned with her, grieved with her, stayed with her, just as he'd helped her over the mountain.
A sense of foreboding slugged through her chest. Oh, God. What had she done?
Her nerves trembling, she snatched up the leash and squeezed through the crack in the rocks, pulling Dusty behind her. Once outside, she stopped and blinked in the startling brightness.
She raised her hand to shade her eyes and glanced around, stunned by the devastation. The fire had decimated the mountain, turning the once-green landscape into blackened wreckage. Smoke still simmered over the scorched earth, wafting and swirling through ashes. Charred trees bent at odd angles, like twisted silhouettes clawing the sky. Here and there, lingering flames crackled through burnt stumps and spewed out dying embers.
She breathed in the acrid stench, coughed, and blinked again. The sunshine seemed too bright in the ruined landscape, too stark. As if it were stripping away her pretenses and exposing the truth, revealing her insecurities and fears.
Her guilt.
Her breathing ragged, she scanned the hillside for Cade. She spotted him several yards away atop a charred knoll, staring down the mountain. His back was straight, his shoulders stiff, warning off any approach.
Or maybe he was grieving for the child he'd never known.
An awful tightness wrenched her throat, and she knew that she had to reach him. "Cade," she said.
His shoulder jerked as if she'd struck him, and then he slowly turned to face her. His face was tight, his mouth flat, his eyes so distant she shivered. Anxiety climbed up her throat.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I was wrong. I shouldn't have assumed you wouldn't come back. That wasn't fair to you. And I should have told you about the baby."
For several heartbeats, he didn't speak. His gaze stayed on hers, frank and cold, as if he were weighing her words, measuring her sincerity. Her hopes plummeted even more.
Finally, he tilted his head. "You didn't want me to come back, did you?"
"What?" Shock tightened her voice. "Of course I wanted you back. How can you even think that?"
He slowly shook his head, his eyes hard. "No, you were looking for an excuse to leave."
Denials rose in her throat, along with a spurt of panic. "You're wrong. I felt abandoned without you. I hated being alone." And she'd dreaded a lifetime spent waiting.
"Then why didn't you call?"
"I---" A sliver of doubt crept through her mind. Why hadn't she called him? How had she misjudged his character so badly? Hadn't she known her husband at all?
Dread piled in as she considered the implications and fought the conclusion sickening her gut. And then suddenly, she couldn't avoid it any longer. The truth crashed into her mind.
Stricken, she sucked in her breath. "Oh, God. You're right." At least in a way. "I wanted you back, but only under my terms." To fulfill her needs, her insecurities.
But he hadn't played into that. He'd treated her like a woman, not a child. He'd expected her to cope when he was gone.
And she couldn't handle that. She'd acted out the needs of her childhood, thrusting him into a role he didn't deserve. Punishing him for the faults of her father. Ignoring the person he was.
And then when he didn't play her game, she'd seized the excuse to flee.
And in the process, she'd destroyed something special, something unique, something she'd never find again. She'd taken the gift of this man's love and tossed it away.
Their eyes stayed locked, and sick dread lurched through her gut. Her heart wrenched with remorse; her face burned with guilt and chagrin. She wanted to weep with the awful realization of how unfairly she'd acted and how badly she'd hurt this man.
She couldn't excuse what she'd done and had no way left to fix it.
The reverberations of the helicopter broke the tense silence. They grew louder, filling the air with a whomping sound. The dog jerked against the leash, and she tightened her grip to hold him.
Then a shadow crossed overhead, and the ashes swirled by her feet. The helicopter hovered just beyond the cave, then headed for the clearing.
"It's over," Cade said, his face devoid of expression. "Let's go."
Whether he meant their ordeal or their relationship didn't matter. Both were finished.
Feeling completely battered inside, she picked up the dog and followed Cade through the ashes to catch their ride.
"H e's gone?" Jordan gaped at the nurse sitting behind the emergency room desk. "But he can't be, not with his bad shoulder. A tree crushed him. My God, his head, his ribs, he---"
"Honey, I'm not the doctor. I don't decide what the patients can do." The nurse leaned back and crossed her arms over her flowered scrubs.
"I know, but he---" Jordan clamped down hard on her lip, knowing it was pointless to argue. This nurse couldn't control where Cade spent the night.
But she had to see him, talk to him. She twisted her bandaged hands, her sense of urgency rising. She couldn't let their trip end this way.
Even if that was what Cade intended.
He obviously didn't want to see her. He'd ignored her on the flight to Missoula, looking more remote than when their journey had started. And once they'd landed at the hospital, he'd handed the dog over to his smokejumping friend, Trey Campbell, and let the nurses lead him away.
He hadn't looked back, hadn't asked to see her again. And now he'd left the hospital without even saying goodbye.
Or had he?
She thought back to those final moments on the mountain, to his hurt over her deception. To the bitterness in his blazing blue eyes. And she realized that he had said goodbye. She just hadn't wanted to hear it.
But she couldn't let it end like this. Panic surged and then engulfed her, like a wildfire searing her chest. She needed to find him, plead with him.
Tell him she still loved him.
But arguing with this nurse wouldn't help. She sucked in a steadying breath. "Look, I'm sorry. I just really need to see him. Could you at least tell me his address? I think he has an apartment nearby."
"Sorry, we're not allowed to give out that information."
"I'm sure he wouldn't mind. He's my ex-husband. We---"
"There's a telephone book in the lobby. You're welcome to look in that."
"But what if he's not listed? He might only have a cell phone."
"Sorry." The nurse returned her gaze to her computer screen.
Knowing it was futile to argue, Jordan curbed her frustration and stepped back. She could head to the smokejumper base and ask, but they weren't open at night. And they might refuse to tell her, too.
"Excuse me, ma'am?"
Jordan turned. A nurse pushing a gurney paused by the desk, waiting for her to move.
"Oh, I'm sorry." Her face warming, she steadied her crutches and moved aside. She couldn't take up these people's time when others had more serious problems.
She'd been lucky on that mountain. Aside from a mildly sprained ankle and a few lost pounds, she'd survived the ordeal intact. And after giving her a tetanus booster, antibiotics and an IV to replace lost fluids, the doctor had allowed her to leave. All she needed now was a hot shower and a few days of rest to bring her body back to normal.
If she could only do the same for her heart.
The nurse wheeled the gurney past, and she caught a glimpse of the young man on it. He looked pale against the sheets, his features racked with pain.
And suddenly, her stomach flipped and her heart stalled. And she couldn't stop the memories from slamming through her, of herself on that gurney years back---alone and in pain, bleeding and suffering badly.
Her knees grew weak at the memory, and she leaned against the wall for support. God, it had been so hard. That terrible fear, the awful pain. The misery of losing her child. The worry that she'd somehow caused it.
The absolute devastation of knowing Cade would rather leap from airplanes than stay with her.
But that wasn't true. Cade hadn't abandoned her. She blinked as reality came seeping back, and with it, the truth. Cade wasn't like her father. He would have rushed to her side.
She was the one at fault. She hadn't trusted him or his love, hadn't given him a chance to help her. Then she'd left him without explanation and blamed him for her mistakes.
How could she have been so foolish?
Her blood still slamming in her ears, she struggled to regain her composure. Just then two women rushed past.
"We're right behind you, Tommy," one woman called.
Jordan watched them scurry into the curtained space behind the gurney, and then another truth rocked through her. Unlike her, that man wasn't alone. He had friends to visit him, a support group, people eager to help---whereas Jordan had cut herself off from society back then. Even when they'd moved to Missoula, she hadn't tried to fit in.
A bitter taste wedged in her throat. She didn't like that glimpse of herself, but she had to admit it was true. She hadn't made friends. She'd used her childhood as an excuse to withdraw from people, then blamed Cade for leaving her alone.
She closed her eyes. How could she have been so immature? Hadn't she done anything right?
Still reeling from this view of her past, she opened her eyes and hobbled off. The bay doors opened with a quiet whoosh as she limped from the emergency room into the lobby, and then out the hospital's main entrance. The automatic doors slid open to the dark night and a blast of cool air.
She worked her way to the curb, stopped and stared at the near-empty lot. So here she was again, alone. She didn't have family or friends in Missoula, didn't know anyone who could help her, aside from Cade. And she had nowhere left to go.
And that was her own damned fault.
She stumbled to a bench beneath a light pole and sat. Moths swarmed above her in the halogen haze. A few cars passed on the nearby road, people going home to waiting families. But no one was expecting her. She didn't have that family she'd always longed for or the husband she'd always desired.
Because she'd pushed him away.
Her throat cramped with another spasm, and she blinked furiously to stem the hot tears. She'd messed up everything, all right. She'd wounded the man she'd loved and destroyed his trust.
But she couldn't alter the past. And she couldn't just sit here and weep. She wasn't that weak girl anymore, and those helpless days were long gone. She sniffed back her tears and thought hard.
She could check herself into a motel, the same one she'd stayed in when she'd first arrived. She could take a taxi there and spend the night. Then, in the morning, she could resolve the rental car problem and take the first available flight back East.
But why bother? What did she have waiting in Virginia, aside from her job? She loved her work and had built herself a solid career, but nursing homes existed all over. She could find another job here if she decided to stay. Plus, she no longer had a boyfriend there; she couldn't date Phil when she still loved Cade.
An ache pulsed down her throat at the thought of Cade, followed by a spurt of dread. She needed to break up with Phil. He was a kind, decent man, and she couldn't lead him on any longer. No matter how distasteful the task, she had to tell him the truth.
She pulled her cell phone from her bag and turned it on, glad that the battery still worked. Then she paused. She couldn't do it this way, not by phone. It wasn't fair to Phil. She'd be taking the coward's way out, running from her problems again.
And she wasn't doing that anymore. She wasn't that scared, immature girl; she was an adult, and she would face her problems head-on.
Which meant she had to tell Phil in person.
And then she had to decide what to do with her life.
A sharp, heavy longing pressed on her heart. God, she missed Cade. Only a few hours apart and already she couldn't stand it. She missed his eyes, that rumbling voice, that sexy, confident grin. How could she bear to spend her life without him?
Was there any chance he would forgive her? She'd hurt him so badly and ruined the trust between them. Could she convince him that she'd changed?
She had to try.
Because she really wasn't that young girl anymore. She'd changed over the years. She'd proven that up on the mountain. She'd forded a river and battled a cougar. She'd hiked miles on a wounded ankle and escaped a raging fire.
And no way was she now slinking out of Montana without fighting for the man she loved.
Just then, her cell phone beeped, and she held it up to the light. A text message had arrived from Phil.
Surprised, she punched the buttons to retrieve the message. Then she blinked. Phil was here in Missoula, waiting at her motel. He'd heard about the fire and had come to find her.
Her astonishment turned to dismay, and then settled into resolve. She hadn't expected him here, but his arrival couldn't be better. First, she would meet with him, explain that she didn't love him and that he deserved a more suitable wife.
Then she'd track down the man she did love and plead for a second chance.
An hour later, she stood in front of Phil's motel room and balanced her crutches on the faded red carpet. Muted voices from the television seeped through the door, so she knew that he was awake. She knocked, sending a loud rap echoing down the deserted hallway, then winced, hoping she wouldn't disturb the neighbors. It was after midnight, too late for a social call, but past time to own up to her mistakes.
Seconds later, the security chain rattled, and then the door swung open and Phil stepped into view. His brown eyes blinked behind his wire-rimmed glasses. "Jordan?"
"Hi, Phil." Warmth slid through her chest, along with a strong spurt of fondness, the delight at seeing a friend. There was no nervous anticipation, none of the thrilling jolts she felt whenever she saw Cade.
"Holy cow." His jaw slack, he opened the door wider. His eyes grew dazed as he scanned from her torn jeans and dirty face to the bandages on her hands. "What happened to you?"
"I got caught in the fire."
"Oh, man. I was afraid of that. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
He stepped forward and opened his arms, then enveloped her in a hug. "Stop," she protested. "I'll get you dirty."
But he squeezed her anyway, surrounding her with his strength. And she realized that it was this friendship, this dependability that she had confused with love. He was a safe and solid man.
Just not the right one for her.
"I came as soon as I heard about the fire," he said, pulling away. "No one knew where you were, and I was going nuts trying to get news."
He surveyed her, worry creasing his brow. His khaki slacks were wrinkled, his polo shirt askew. His normally neat hair was mussed, as if he'd tugged each strand from its place.
"I can't believe this," he continued. "You look..."
"Filthy, I know." And like the fire survivor she was, bruised and battered, smeared with ashes and grime. Her matted hair tumbled wildly over her shoulders, and she reeked of smoke and sweat.
"And you've got crutches," he noted, still looking stunned.
"It's just a sprained ankle. Nothing serious." She gazed into his familiar face and felt his warmth and concern.
A weight loosened around her heart, and any doubts she might have harbored vanished. And suddenly she felt free, liberated, as if a burden had disappeared from her life.
How could she have thought she loved this man? He was so obviously wrong for her---perfectly nice, and the best of friends, but nothing more than that.
As much as she cared for him, she didn't feel that spark, that depth of feeling she had for Cade. And after her soul-searching up on that mountain, she refused to settle for anything less. She didn't want a stale, predictable life any longer. She didn't want a diet of bland white bread and vanilla ice cream, no matter how comfortable the taste.
She wanted excitement, fireworks, passion.
She wanted Cade, smokejumping career and all.
"Phil, I---" She sighed, knowing that this would be hard. "Listen, we need to talk. But it's a long story, and I need to shower first. I've got a room down the hall." She nodded in that direction. "Can we meet in an hour to talk?"
"Sure." He stared at her charred jeans, still looking dazed. Then he snapped his gaze back up. "Are you hungry? We can see if anything's open and grab something to eat."
"I'd like that." A surge of affection warmed her heart. No matter what, Phil had flown out here because he cared. And that's what she called a good friend. "And Phil?"
He raised his brows, still looking shell-shocked.
"I appreciate that you came to find me."
"Sure." He blinked again, and she hobbled away.
"M cKenzie! What are you doing here?"
Trying like hell to forget about Jordan. Cade leaned against a long table in the parachute loft as his smokejumping bro, Trey Campbell, strolled toward him. Not that he'd managed to stop thinking about her yet. That woman had worked herself under his skin, driving her self in so deeply that it hurt him even to breathe.
But no way was he admitting that to Trey. His bro had witnessed the hell he'd suffered the first time Jordan had dumped him, and had spent months trying to help him stay sane. No way could he confess that he'd let her de stroy him again.
The dog trailed Trey into the loft. When he spotted Cade, he wagged his tail and rushed to greet him. Careful not to bump his arm, which was secured in a harness-style sling, Cade squatted to ruffle his fur.
The dog looked different this morning, more civilized. His fur had been washed and brushed, his nails trimmed, and he sported a blue bandanna. And he didn't stink anymore. "Hey, buddy," Cade said. "Looks like somebody groomed you."
"No kidding." Trey propped his hip against the opposite table. "What did that mutt do, anyhow? Roll in a rotting carcass?"
"Beats me." Cade gave the dog a final pat and straightened while Trey nodded to the other jumpers in the loft. The master rigger sat at one of the sewing machines below the row of elk heads lining the wall, a blue-and-white parachute spread over his legs. There was a lull in the whir of his sewing machine as he greeted Trey back.
"Yo, Trey," another rigger called above the blare of country music. "You at the top of the list yet?"
"Getting close," Trey said. "I should make the second load."
"Sounds good." The rigger finished packing a chute and pushed it down the long table toward Cade.
Cade reached around a spare iron and glue gun, and picked it up. He checked the size, then strode over and stuffed it into the green cubicle along the wall with the other mediums. With fires popping up all over, they needed to keep the shelves stocked.
Which was why he'd rationalized coming back to work today. At this time of year, they needed all the help they could get. Unfortunately, no matter how busy he stayed, he couldn't keep his mind off Jordan.
"I thought you were supposed to take it easy for a while," Trey said.
"Hell, this is easy." He slouched back against the table. "Not much else I can do with a broken collarbone and two cracked ribs."
"Except stay in bed?"
"Right." And no way was he doing that. Every time he closed his eyes, those damned memories flashed through his brain, of Jordan's smile, her silky skin, that amazing sex in the cave.
So, after a sleepless night spent battling the need to see her, he'd given up and headed to the base. He knew he'd go crazy if he didn't find something to distract him.
"So what happened up on that mountain?" Trey persisted, crossing his arms.
"Nothing much." Cade kept his expression neutral. "We found the dog, the fire blew up, they flew us out."
"Uh-huh." Trey's shrewd eyes narrowed. "And that's why you bolted out of that hospital before I could get back to pick you up?"
"I didn't bolt." Not exactly. He scowled. "Hell, you saw what I looked like. I probably smelled worse than the dog. I just wanted to shower and eat."
And get away from Jordan before he did something foolish, like begging her to love him again.
"Uh-huh," Trey repeated, his smirk indicating he wasn't fooled.
Damning Trey for being too perceptive, Cade strode from the loft into the inspection tower, the dog cheerfully tagging his heels. He muttered a greeting to the loft foreman, who was staring up at a red-and-white reserve chute hanging from the ceiling, then pushed his way past the looping shroud lines and anti-inversion netting dangling off the blue-and-white mains.
He glanced down to make sure the dog stayed with him and mentally sighed. Okay, so maybe Trey was right. He had fled the hospital. He hadn't trusted himself around Jordan. He knew if he gave her the chance, she'd worm her way back into his soul and capture his heart.
Hell, who was he fooling? She already had.
But at least he'd had the sense to control the damage this time. He'd gotten away before he lost all common sense and begged her to stay.
So why wasn't he relieved? He should be glad he'd escaped that danger.
He braced himself, expecting to feel the rush of anger, the sense of betrayal she always evoked, but he couldn't conjure it up this time. His rage had dwindled during the night, mellowing into something new.
Guilt.
Guilt that she'd suffered that miscarriage and he hadn't been there to help. Remorse that he hadn't eased the pain or kept her safe.
Not that he'd had much chance. She hadn't even told him she was pregnant. Still, he'd been her husband. He should have been at her side.
His gut knotted, his emotions slugging hard through his chest, he strode into the ready room and glanced around. His gaze landed on the jump list posted by the dispatch desk, and he automatically started to scan it. He'd traveled halfway through the second column before he caught himself. The green magnetic tag bearing his name had been scuttled off to the side, where it would stay for the rest of the season. He had to get used to that fact.
And find some other way to keep his mind off Jordan.
Several jumpers milled around the ready room, repacking their personal gear bags and checking their equipment. Keeping a close watch on the dog in case the siren blew, Cade wandered to his locker and looked in. His jumpsuit jacket hung on one hook, his helmet and pants on another. He made a mental note to thank Trey for returning his gear.
Even if he wouldn't need it until next spring.
"Hey, Cade." The rookie he'd saved knelt nearby, stuffing a can of baked beans into his PG bag. The kid stood, stuck his bag beneath the shelf in the narrow locker, then strolled over to Cade. "Sorry about your shoulder. I heard it's messed up pretty bad."
"The bone's just cracked. Nothing major." It was a hell of a way to end the season, but at least the injury would heal.
Grimacing, the kid rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, thanks again, man. For pushing me out of the way, I mean."
"No problem."
"I still can't believe I froze like that."
Cade shrugged his uninjured shoulder. "Don't sweat it. We all make mistakes." Sometimes the same one twice.
"I guess so." The rookie motioned toward the far wall. "But maybe next time, I'll remember the sign."
Cade glanced back at the bright yellow sign posted near the jump list. It warned in big black letters that Stupid Hurts.
His lips twisted. Stupid hurt, all right. Even knowing better, he'd let Jordan trample his heart.
"Well, anyway," the rookie continued. "I owe you, man. Big-time."
"Just buy me a drink next time you're back this way."
"It's a deal." The rookie grinned, his smile wide in his cleanly shaved face, and Cade noticed how young he looked, hardly over twenty.
Which made him suddenly feel old.
Just then the siren blared, ending their conversation, and they both turned toward the operations desk. Cade felt the familiar surge of adrenaline, followed by a swift jab of disappointment. His name wasn't on that list.
The siren faded, and the operations foreman grabbed the mike. "We have a twelve-person jump request to the Bob Marshall Wilderness," he announced. He turned to the jump list on the wall beside him. "Jumpers will be Susan Jennings, Jim Seibert, Rick Crossley..."
"Got to go!" The rookie darted to his locker, yanked out his Kevlar jump pants and rammed his legs inside.
The foreman finished reading the list, and people streamed into the ready room, instantly engulfing it in controlled commotion. Those not leaving began helping the jumpers suit up. Others snapped on parachutes and handed off gear. Everyone worked as a team to get the jumpers on the plane and off to the fire with lightning speed.
Feeling useless and in the way with his bum arm, Cade called the dog and moved outside to the ramp. He strolled past the shelves stocked with para cargo---climbing spurs and trauma kits, freeze-dried food and cubes of water---then leaned against a crate in the shade to watch the action. One by one, the jumpers staggered out of the ready room to the waiting Twin Otter, barely staying upright under the weight of their equipment.
A minute later, Trey wandered out and joined him in the shade. The Otter's engine whined as the pilot prepared for takeoff. The spotter stood outside the door performing last-minute safety checks before the jumpers climbed on board. Cade felt the excitement in the air, the anticipation, and wished to hell he could get on that plane.
"Where are you on the list?" he asked Trey.
"About ten down now. I should make the next load."
"Lucky man." Cade sucked in a breath of jet fumes and blew it out.
"Yeah. This is turning into a great season for overtime pay." He shot Cade an apologetic smile. "Hell of a time to get injured."
"Yeah." It was, but the risks were part of the job.
Trey tilted his head. "You planning on keeping the dog?"
Cade turned slightly to glance at the mutt, who was nosing around the trash can in the corner. And he remembered how Jordan had protected that dog, carrying him through the river and across the fire, even defying a mountain lion to save him.
A weight pressed down on his heart. "I don't have much choice. He saved my life. The least I can do is feed him."
"Have fun. That mutt ate three burgers and a large order of fries last night."
Cade blinked. "You took him out for hamburgers?"
"Hey, it was a special occasion."
Cade raised his brows.
"His first bath?"
"Right." Cade shook his head and grinned, doubting Jordan would approve of that diet. But Jordan would never know what the dog ate. A swift cramp rent his heart, blocking his breath. Damn, he needed to get her out of his head.
Just then the rookie swaggered by on his way to the plane. "Thanks again, McKenzie," he called. Then he laughed and said something to a female bro, his face beaming with excitement.
Cade shook his head again. "Man, those rookies look young."
"We were the same age when we started."
"Twenty-three." And he could still remember how desperately he'd wanted to become a smokejumper, to belong to the firefighting elite. He'd worked like hell to get through rookie training, and he'd been so damned proud when he'd made it.
"You remember that trip to Cancún?" Trey asked.
"How could I forget it?" They'd headed down to Mexico right after that first season had ended, intending to have some fun. Two kick-ass smokejumpers out to raise hell on the beach.
And then he'd met Jordan.
She'd been even younger than he was, just out of high school. And his heart had fallen fast.
The last jumper climbed into the Otter, and the spotter leaped aboard. Seconds later, the plane turned and rolled down the runway. The engines screamed as it picked up speed and lifted off.
Cade watched it head toward the distant mountains and disappear into the hot blue haze. He loved that moment when the plane took off, when he was soaring into the sky toward adventure, never knowing what would await him or what incredible sights he might see.
Living the smokejumper dream.
"Easy to make mistakes at that age," Trey said.
"I guess." Cade tugged his attention back to earth and touched his sling. The rookie had made a mistake, all right, taking him out for the season. But everyone screwed up sometimes.
Even him. And he'd screwed up big-time with Jordan.
"I always liked her, you know," Trey added. "I figured she must have had a reason to leave."
Cade didn't pretend not to understand. It was obvious he was talking about Jordan. He squinted out at the hazy sky. "She had a miscarriage."
"Yeah? You never told me she was pregnant."
"I didn't know."
Neither spoke for several moments. A bro laughed from inside the building. In the distance, a car door slammed. The dog wandered over and sniffed the bicycle parked near the crates.
"That must have been rough on her," Trey finally said.
"Yeah." Cade's chest squeezed as he pictured the scene. Jordan lying in the hospital, scared and alone, her beautiful eyes black with terror, her face as pale as the sheets.
He fisted his hand, knowing how much she had suffered, imagining her fierce pain and grief.
And she'd been so damn young. Hell. Could he really blame her for bolting?
Guilt slid through his gut. He'd hardly been perfect. He'd been full of himself back then, cocky, just like the rookie he'd saved. Too caught up in the thrill of smokejumping to notice her needs.
He should have paid more attention. He never should have brushed her complaints or fears aside.
And he should have discussed his decision to join that booster crew with her. They'd been married, for God's sake, but he'd still acted as if he were single.
Remorse soured his gut. So he wasn't blameless. She'd been right about that.
And she'd been right about something else. They hadn't talked enough. They'd both made assumptions that had ruined their marriage. He'd figured she could cope on her own. She'd thought he only cared about his job.
"I was in Alaska when it happened," he said.
"Living the dream."
"Right." The twist of his lips was sardonic. But was it really a dream if it had cost him Jordan? Was any job, even this one, worth losing the woman he loved?
He squinted into the sunny haze. Back when he'd first started, he'd thought so. Smokejumping was everything to him. It was what he was born to do and the first place he'd ever belonged. And nothing could have stopped him from jumping.
But in the end, was it worth the price? Did fighting fire matter more to him than Jordan?
The truth slammed into him then, knocking the air from his lungs. He'd been wrong. God, he'd been wrong. He needed Jordan far more than any job. He always had.
Sure he liked smokejumping, and it would pain him to give it up, but he could do something else. He could become a dispatcher or base foreman, train rookies or rig parachutes. This wasn't the only job where he could excel.
But he couldn't survive without Jordan. She completed him and made him whole. She loved him, cared for him in a way no one else ever could.
And she mattered far more to him than smokejumping ever had.
His gut cramped, and a fierce desperation seized him. He had to find her and stop her from leaving. He had to apologize and plead for another chance.
But where could he find her? He didn't know which motel she'd stayed in, or even if she'd stayed in town overnight. For all he knew, she could have taken a red-eye flight from Missoula and be back in Virginia by now.
Panicked, he turned around.
"You need a ride somewhere, McKenzie?" Trey rubbed his jaw, not quite hiding his smirk.
"Yeah." Cade blew out his breath. No one hid anything from the bros. "But you're too high on the jump list. I'll bum a ride from someone else." Although where he'd look for Jordan, he didn't know.
He whistled, and the dog trotted over. "Did you happen to buy a leash?"
"Right here." Trey pulled a coiled leash from his pocket, snapped it onto the collar beneath the dog's bandanna and handed the end to Cade. "You're sure you want to take the dog with you?"
"Oh, yeah." This mutt had saved his life up on that mountain. Maybe now he could help rescue his heart.
T he taxi pulled to the curb in front of the smokejumper base and stopped. Her heart flipping erratically, Jordan scanned the familiar one-story complex fronting the shimmering tarmac. Mountains framed the horizon beyond the airfield, their high peaks melting into the haze.
A tour group gathered in front of the gift-shop door, chatting and angling their cameras at the buildings. A sprinkler launched water onto the parched grass, its ticking swoosh rhythmic in the morning sun. The scent of freshly mown grass rose in the hot Montana breeze, triggering memories of the times she'd come here with Cade.
But she didn't feel that bitterness anymore, that old sense of loss that being at the base once evoked. She felt at peace now, settled and filled with a sense of rightness.
She'd finally accomplished what she'd set out to do. She'd banished those old ghosts.
Just not the ones she had expected.
"Is this the right place?" the taxi driver asked.
"Yes." It was definitely the right place. It had been a long journey back here, years filled with resentment and misunderstanding, painful growth and change. But she was finally back where she was supposed to be.
"You want me to wait?"
"No, I'm fine." She pulled her wallet from her purse and handed him a bill. "You can keep the change," she added.
"Thanks." While the driver leaped out and came around the car, she collected her purse and bag, opened her door and slid from the seat. He took her crutches from the rear seat and handed them over.
She propped them under her arms. At least Phil had taken the breakup better than she'd expected. He'd been wounded at first, due to the blow to his pride. But then he'd admitted that he'd sensed this might happen. And in a way, he was relieved.
Because truthfully, she'd changed since they'd first started dating. She wasn't the dependent, security-seeking woman he'd first asked out. And now that they both understood that, they made far better friends than potential lovers.
Just then the side door of the parachute loft opened and a smokejumper strode out with a dog. Her dog. Her gaze flew to the man's handsome face. Her heart tripped, then started quaking.
Cade. Oh, God.
Her nerves leaped like a crowning wildfire. Her pulse rocketed like that blowup blasting uphill. Her breath backed up in her lungs, and she couldn't suck in the dense air.
His eyes met hers from across the yard and he stopped. Time faltered, then stretched to a standstill. The world around them faded and blurred.
Frozen in place, she just stared at him, her gaze devouring every detail. The spiked blond hair fringing the solid cords of his neck. The iron strength of his biceps beneath the black T-shirt. The olive-drab pants hanging low on his hips and the sling cradling his arm. He looked rugged and brave, and so god-awful sexy that she ached to rush over and hug him.
"Is that everything?" the driver asked.
"Yes," she whispered, still trapped by those dazzling eyes. Cade was everything, all right. He was the man she'd been destined to love.
She couldn't read his expression from where she stood, couldn't tell if he would give her a chance to explain. But at least he hadn't turned away yet. Hope surged hard in her chest.
The dog jumped and strained against the leash, then let out a welcoming yip. Without taking his gaze from hers, Cade started striding forward.
Her stomach clenched in a rush of nerves. Even if Cade agreed to hear her out, he might never forgive her. She now knew how badly she'd acted. But she was going to try.
The driver cranked the engine and pulled away from the curb, and she glanced at the departing cab. Another ending. She'd had enough of those in her life.
Her throat balled, and she turned back to Cade. Now it was time for a new start, another beginning. And this one mattered most of all.
Her heart thrumming, she adjusted her crutches and hobbled toward him. They met on the grass halfway to the loft. She stopped just inches away, the air so thick now she couldn't breathe.
He flicked his gaze over her, and her heart made a long, slow roll in her chest. Their eyes latched again, and she felt the familiar hum of awareness, the intensity and heat.
And she couldn't tear her gaze away.
"Hey," he murmured. His low, husky voice raised the hair on her arms, like a shiver on the warm wind. "You're looking good."
Her lips curved. "Cleaner, anyway." He looked more than good, and she longed to wrap herself around him, to caress those gorgeous muscles and taste the feverish heat of his skin. To stoke that hunger that drove them both wild.
But she had something to say first. Jerking her mind back to her mission, she swallowed hard. "Cade, I...I wanted to tell you, I---"
Dusty bumped her leg, then leaped up and braced his paws on her chest. She staggered on her crutches to keep her balance.
"Whoa, there." Cade lunged forward and grabbed her arm, and his hot touch seared though her skin.
She shivered hard. "I'm okay," she breathed. The dog dropped his paws, and Cade slowly released her arm.
She moved aside her crutches so she could bend down and pet the dog. She scratched beneath his ears, and smiled when he let out a whine. "He looks nice all clean and brushed. And I like his bandanna." It gave him a rakish look.
"The bros got it. They like him."
"That's good." She sucked in her breath and slowly straightened. "Listen, Cade, I came to tell you I..."
His gaze slammed into hers again, so intense that she couldn't think. Waves of desire crashed through her, wedging the air in her throat. Dear God, how she loved this man. "I, uh..."
"What?" His eyes narrowed, the heat only slightly banked.
Her pulse tripped, then sprinted through her veins. "I wanted to tell you, I..."
She stopped and dragged in a breath. She had to get a grip. She was mucking this all up, not even making sense.
Then the tour group wandered past, staring and smiling at Cade, and stopped on the nearby sidewalk. The tour guide joined them, and the visitors clustered around, eager to hear about the smokejumper life.
"Why don't we sit in the shade?" Cade suggested.
"Good idea." She didn't want an audience when she bared her soul.
"I'll take your bag," he said.
"I can handle it."
"I know."
His gaze met hers, and his mouth slid into a grin. That sexy, soul-pounding grin. The thumping of her pulse grew faster.
"Thanks." She handed him the bag.
They walked silently across the road toward a small, shaded park, Dusty trotting between them. A picnic table sat under a cottonwood tree, near the antique lookout display. The parking lot bordered one side, the frontage road another, partially sheltering them from prying eyes.
She lowered herself to the bench, facing the road. Cade sat down beside her, and she propped her crutches against the table. Dusty dropped to the grass at their feet.
She reached down again and scratched the dog's ears, wondering how to begin. He swished his tail along the grass and licked her hand, and a spurt of warmth mellowed her heart. At least he had a better life.
But would she?
Her heart trembling, she sat back. This was it, the moment of truth. She dragged in her breath and met his gaze. "I came here because I was hoping that we, that maybe...I mean, I know I don't deserve it, but I love you and..." Her breath hitched. "Oh, God, Cade---"
"Jordan." His deep voice stopped her.
He reached over and picked up her hand, and the air in her lungs stalled. He cradled her hand in his bigger one, his rough calluses tingling the skin around her bandage. Scars branched from his fingers to his forearm, testimony to years spent working in the forests. His tendons flexed with power and strength.
How could she have ever doubted that she could depend on this man?
"I was just heading out to look for you," he said.
"You were?" Her heart abruptly lost its rhythm.
"Yeah." He stared at their joined hands. He stroked her wrist with his thumb, sending shivers along her nerves, then threaded his lean fingers with hers. "I wanted to ask you for another chance."
Her heart stuttered. Her pulse made a long, hard beat through her skull, then hammered in her ears.
He still wanted her. Tears swelled in her eyes, and she blinked to clear them away.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her throat so cramped she could barely speak. "I was such a fool. And I messed everything up."
A sad, tight smile twisted his lips, and he tightened his grip on her hand. "I'm the one who should apologize. You were right, what you said before. I should have talked to you more. And I did care too much about my job."
He released her hand and shifted to face her. She hardly breathed as he traced the bruise along her cheek, his rough, warm fingers sparking on her skin.
"I plan to quit if you'll take me back," he said.
Her lungs ceased. The world around them slanted. "You'd do that for me?" she gasped. "You'd really quit your job?"
"Yeah." He lowered his hand and switched his gaze to the road. A motorcycle passed, its reverberations fading as it headed toward the mountains.
When the noise died out, he sighed. "It took me a while, but I finally figured it out. When I first started smokejumping, I wanted to prove that I could do it, that I belonged here. That I could succeed in this world. But I don't need that anymore."
His gaze met hers. "Don't get me wrong. I like the work, the bros, but the job's not everything to me anymore. I can be happy doing something else."
He tugged her hand into his. "I love you, Jordan. I missed you so damned much. And I don't want to lose you again. You matter more than any job."
A sob rose in her throat. Her heart swelled with an ache so huge that she could barely speak. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me," she whispered. It was what she'd always wanted, what she'd dreamed. "But I don't want you to quit."
"Jordan---"
"No, listen." She shook his hand loose, and swiped at her brimming eyes with her sleeve. "I've thought about this a lot, about my childhood. How I spent years watching those ships disappear, looking out to sea.
"And I thought about our marriage. About how lonely I was and especially what I did wrong, like not making friends.
"And I asked myself whether, honestly, I could do it again, whether I could survive that lifestyle this time. And I realized I could."
"Jordan---"
"No, wait." She needed him to understand. "Remember how I told you about my job, about the elderly people I work with? How they aren't afraid of dying? They don't focus on the negative part, on the short time they have left. They celebrate what they do have, their moments together, and they live each day as a gift.
"And maybe I won't like having you gone in the summer, but it won't bother me like it did before." She would have her work to fill her time, dogs to rescue, and maybe someday, another child.
She shrugged. "I don't know why it seemed so hard before. Maybe we just didn't talk enough. Maybe I was too young, and I didn't really know who I was.
"But I've changed. I'm not the same person I used to be. I'm stronger."
"Yeah." He stroked the line of her jaw, scorching her with his heat. "But I still don't mind changing jobs."
"I know. And maybe someday you should. But I fell in love with a smokejumper." She understood that now. It was part of his identity, who he was, a man who risked his life to fight fires. She held his gaze. "And I don't want you to change who you are."
His gaze sizzled into hers, sparking that hot, slow burn in her blood. "You're sure?"
"Absolutely."
"So you'll marry me again?"
"Oh, yes." He had her heart and soul forever. "And this time, I'm here to stay."
ISBN: 978-1-4268-0919-4
Copyright © 2007 Harlequin Books S.A.
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:
Aftershock
Copyright © 2001 by Jill Shalvis
The Firefighter's Baby
Copyright © 2004 by Alison Robers
Facing the Fire
Copyright © 2006 by Gail Barrett
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