A Firefighter in the Family
Trish Milburn
“Trying to figure out how to bust me?”
She turned to look at him. “No.”
The simple answer alleviated some of the tension knotted in Zac’s shoulders. Randi looked like just another bar customer, though normally such a beautiful woman wouldn’t be sitting alone.
“So you’re not staking me out?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“So you are?”
“I didn’t say that, either.” She raised her eyebrows, and the barest hint of a suppressed smile curved her lips.
Very nice, intensely kissable lips.
Snap out of it, Parker. You destroyed that path a long time ago.
Dear Reader,
I’m thrilled to be making my Harlequin Books debut with A Firefighter in the Family. It has so many things I love woven together within its pages—a gorgeous and honorable hero, a strong heroine, a devoted dog and the incredibly beautiful shore of the Gulf of Mexico. I also like to throw a dash of mystery into my stories, and you’ll see that in the pages that follow.
Miranda “Randi” Cooke followed in the footsteps of her grandfather, father and brothers when she became a firefighter. But a tragic mistake led to estrangement from her family, the end of a romantic relationship that was just beginning, and her leaving her hometown behind. Now she’s back—in her professional capacity as a state arson investigator. And in addition to chasing down leads, she also has to face her family and Zac Parker, the man she once loved.
Who can resist a story in which a former love is rekindled? In which the hero and heroine have to work hard to trust each other again and find their happily ever after? Certainly not me.
I hope you enjoy Randi and Zac’s story. I’d love to hear what you think. You can e-mail me through my Web site at www.trishmilburn.com.
Happy reading!
Trish Milburn
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Trish Milburn wrote her first book in the fifth grade and has the cardboard-and-fabric-bound, handwritten and colored-pencil-illustrated copy to prove it. That “book” was called Land of the Misty Gems, and not surprisingly it was a romance. She’s always loved stories with happy endings, whether those stories come in the form of books, movies, TV programs or marriage to her own hero.
A former newspaper and magazine journalist, she took the leap into freelancing so she’d have more time to devote to writing fiction and chasing her dream of being a published novelist. While working toward her first sale, she was an eight-time finalist in the prestigious Golden Heart contest sponsored by Romance Writers of America, winning twice. Other than reading, Trish enjoys traveling (by car or train—she’s a terra firma girl!), hiking, nature photography and visiting national parks.
You can visit Trish online at www.trishmilburn.com. Readers also can write to her at P.O. Box 140875, Nashville, TN 37214-0875.
What makes a man a real-life hero? When he tells you every day that he loves you, believes in you even when you don’t believe in yourself, and gives his unfailing support even when you want to quit your job to pursue your dream. Shane, I love you bunches. I’ve dreamed for years of being able to dedicate my first book to you.
My gratitude also goes to the incredible ladies who have been my critique partners throughout the years—Beth Pattillo, Annie Solomon, GayNelle Doll, Michelle Butler and Martha Edinger. I know I wasn’t in love with all those red marks on my manuscript pages at the time, but they helped get me to this point.
And to Mary Fechter—thanks for the fast reads, the daily e-mails, the squees over the latest episodes of Supernatural, and convincing me to get a TiVo.
Finally, huge thanks to my fabulous agent, Michelle Grajkowski, for being my champion all these years, and to my wonderful editor, Johanna Raisanen, and Kathleen Scheibling for helping my long-held dream come true.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter One
The familiar scent of wet ash invaded Randi’s nostrils. Even though the flames had been extinguished and no visible smoke drifted into the bright blue sky, the acrid smell clung to the air, refusing to relinquish its grip. Her stomach twisted. It wasn’t the first time fire had blazed in her hometown, but thankfully no one was hurt this time.
From the spot on Sea Oat Road where she now stood, she’d once only been able to see blue-green waves, sugar-white sand and a line of beach homes painted cotton-candy pink, daffodil-yellow and robin’s-egg blue. Now she stared at the charred remains of a high-rise condo complex, the soot, crumbling timbers and twisted metal more out of place here in this idyllic spot than at any fire scene she’d ever been sent to investigate.
She glanced toward a side parking lot and spotted a familiar shock of white hair. Smiling, she headed in that direction. When she got within earshot, she called out. “Hey, old man.”
Jack Young looked up from where he was stowing equipment in the Number 1 engine. His eyes brightened when he saw her. “Well, I’ll be. I haven’t seen you in ages.” The man she’d always called Uncle Jack came toward her and wrapped her in a bear hug that remained strong for a man closing in on seventy.
“What are you doing still working fires? You should be taking it easy.” She phrased her words as teasing, but part of her did worry about him still undertaking the hard labor of firefighting.
“Hon, I’ve been working so long I don’t know how to relax. Besides, this department would fall apart without me.” He gestured to a couple of young firefighters at the front of the engine. “These nimwits wouldn’t know one end of the hose from the other.”
The younger guys snorted.
“So, Steve sent you home to handle this one, huh?” Jack asked as he wiped sweat from his forehead.
Randi ignored the reference to “home.” She couldn’t think of Horizon Beach like that anymore. It hurt too much. “Yeah. Looks like you had your hands full with this one.”
“You can say that again. This baby burned like burning was going out of style. It was amazing to see.”
That was saying a lot coming from a guy who’d seen every kind of fire known to man—everything from a lightning-sparked brush fire to a frightening oil-tanker blaze in the Gulf.
She glanced at Jack’s profile, saw how he looked into the distance with the familiar expression he got after taking on a big fire. Like he’d stared into the eyes of the beast but lived to tell about it. Jack, more than anyone else she’d ever met, knew fire wasn’t just a thing. It was a living, breathing soul bent on destruction. He gave fire the respect it deserved. She just wanted to send it all back to hell.
“So, what’s the story?” she asked.
Jack