“If you’re very nice to me, maybe I’ll let you appeal the ruling of the judges.”
The entire conversation deteriorated from that point on. Keeping a straight face was next to impossible, Kim’s self-consciousness about her scars slipping away under the sheer pressure of the firefighters’ camaraderie.
And then suddenly, a high-pitched tone sounded, ear-splitting. Before it had stopped, the men standing around Kim scattered, running to their fire engines, slipping their feet into boots parked beside the trucks, pulling up heavy pants, hooking suspenders over their shoulders and grabbing turnout coats. Even the dog scampered off, leaping into the cab of one of the engines. It all happened like a well-choreographed ballet to the sound of a squawking radio that dispatched the helmeted dancers.
Jay took her arm. “We need to get out of the way.”
He didn’t hesitate but knew exactly the direction they should go to avoid being run over by the trucks that had already started their engines. They waited by a wall while the fire trucks rolled out of the station, one by one, sirens wailing.
When they were gone, Jay lowered his head. His shoulders shook and she saw his chin quiver. In a futile effort, he whipped off his glasses and wiped at his eyes, forgetting the patches were in the way.
“Jay?”
He shook his head.
“Let it out, Jay. It’s okay.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he tried to swallow. “God, I miss that.”
Her heart aching for him, Kim did the only thing she knew how to do. There were no words to comfort Jay in his grief, so she simply took him in her arms and held him …as he had once held her when she was trapped beneath a pile of rubble. She hoped somehow she could give to him the strength and courage he had once shared with her.
Chapter Three
Jay stiffened and jerked back. Not that he didn’t like having Kim’s arms around him, her exquisite breasts pillowing against his chest, the floral scent of her hair tantalizing his senses.
He did.
But he hated like hell for her to see his weakness. To pity him.
Grasping her slender shoulders, he shifted her away, and immediately missed her closeness, the heat of her body blending with his. He shuddered as if a cold blast of air had swept between them.
“So,” he said, trying to cover his sense of loss. “You want a tour of the place?”
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
He heard an unfamiliar chill in her voice—a voice normally so warm and arousing, sexy as hell—and he silently chided himself for hurting her feelings. The fact that he didn’t want her help didn’t make her offer any less generous.
“No bother,” he said softly. “We’re all pretty proud of the place.”
“Fine then, if that’s what you’d like to do.”
Taking a moment to regain his bearings, mentally recalling where the door to the offices was located, trying not to make it obvious, he ran his hand along the wall until he came to the doorjamb. He shoved the door open and ushered her inside.
Except for the sound of the chief’s secretary talking on the phone, the interior hallway was quiet now that the station was empty of firefighters. No laughing. No bantering voices. The things he loved most about being on the job.
“Where was the fire?” she asked, sliding her arm through his. “I couldn’t understand what they were saying over the loudspeaker.”
“An apartment fire on Toledo. Second floor.”
“I hope it’s not too bad.”
“This time of day?” He shrugged. “Probably a grease fire in the kitchen.” It was nights when things could get hairy, where fires burned undetected and were already out of control when the trucks arrived.
“Why did you decide to become a firefighter?” Kim asked.
“You mean besides wanting to rescue damsels in distress?”
“I suspect there’s more to it than that.”
He paused in the hallway to give her the easy answer, the one they used for school kids touring the station. “For the cheap thrills. Every time that tone sounds, you’ve got a chance for a trip to Six Flags.”
“You’re an adrenaline junkie?”
He couldn’t leave it at that, letting Kim think he was that shallow. “I grew up in the house where I’m living now. As a kid, every time I’d hear the fire trucks roll, I wanted to be there with them putting out fires, rescuing people, wearing that cool helmet. But the real question is why any sane person would stay on the job and risk his neck every day for strangers after you get past the adrenaline high and the excitement.”
“And?”
He turned to her, picturing her blue-violet eyes looking at him, wishing he could touch her. Run his fingers through her hair. Weigh the silken blond strands in his palm.
“It’s the brotherhood on the job. We may fight like brothers here at the station and give each other a hard time every chance we get, but we’re there for each other when it counts.” He rubbed his hand over his face, forgetting for the moment about the glasses and knocking them askew. He hadn’t done a very good job of shaving that morning and there were patches of stubble on his jaw. He couldn’t do anything about the press of tears at the back of his eyes, caught there behind those damn patches that kept him from being a whole man. “That’s what I miss the most about being off the job. They need me and I can’t be there for them.”
“You will be, Jay. A few weeks, and then you’ll be back on the job.”
“Yeah.” God, he hoped so. Otherwise he’d go crazy. He hated pretending everything was okay; hated swallowing the fear that rose up in the night to grab him. The dreams he was unable to halt, the explosion happening again and again.
Shaking off the feeling, he continued down the hallway, Kim at his side, her heels making those feminine clicking noises on the hardwood floor. Her scent faint. Seductive. Something that good dreams were made of.
“I’ve lost track of how many steps I’ve taken,” he admitted, distracted by her nearness and his own fantasies. “The dispatch office—”
“Is right here. You want us to go in?”
“Yeah. No tour of the station is complete without meeting Emma Jean Witkowsky, our dispatcher and resident psychic.”
“Psychic?” Kim frowned at the comment. “You mean she predicts fires before she gets a 911 call?”
“That’s what she says…about two minutes after a call comes in. Says it’s her gypsy blood.”
Kim nodded, chuckling, though she wasn’t sure she quite understood.
Jay shoved open the door marked Dispatch and Kim entered. Certainly the woman sitting in front of a U-shaped console of computer keyboards and screens could be a gypsy. Her dark hair was in wild disarray as though she had just finished a fiery dance to the music of violins and a concertina, and large silver hoops dangled from her ears.
“Hey, Jay, I knew you’d be coming in today. How are you, hon?”
Jay nudged Kim with his elbow. “Now she knows I was going to show up, but a half hour ago? Not likely.” To the dispatcher he said, “Doing fine, Emma Jean. I’d like you to meet Kim Lydell. I’m giving her a tour.”
“Hey, hon, I know you.” Her dark eyes flashed with recognition. “You’re that TV person. Haven’t seen you on the air for a while.”
Kim tensed, feeling the now-familiar self-consciousness