Daring Devotion (13 page)

Marco bit his bottom lip once more, still unsure if he should confess. “You sure he won't find out?” He looked up at his friend and hero. “He's not like you, Cal. He's mean.”

Cal reached across the bed and took the tiny hand in his much larger one. “Marco, I promise you, as long as I'm alive, no one will hurt you.”

Marco looked to his mother for courage and she nodded with a smile.

“It was the new guy. He poured gasoline on everything then threw down a match and ran out of the room. I saw him as he ran past me.”

Cal felt his gut clinch and reflexively squeezed the little hand he was holding. He did not realize he'd done it until Marco flinched and pulled his hand away. Some part of his mind knew he should've apologized but he was too busy reeling from the bomb that had just been dropped.

It was true. Jeff Collins was the arsonist. The man he'd brought into their firehouse, into their lives had destroyed several businesses and almost took a life. Just like he knew instinctively that Jeff was the guy, Cal also knew that he was the reason, although he wasn't certain exactly why. He knew somehow this was all about him.

Now, he had to find out why and put a stop to it before the man actually succeeded in hurting someone else, or worse, killing someone.

“Cal?” Marco's eyes widened in alarm. “Cal, you believe me, don't you?”

Cal allowed himself to be pulled out of his own private contemplations seeing the need for reassurance on his young friend's face. “Yeah, man, I believe you.” He ran his large hand over the boy's short, curly hair. “Don't worry, little man, I'll stop him.”

Cal's eyes met Maria's over the top of her son's head, and the message that was written there was clear.
How?

“I need to get back to the firehouse, but I'll be back later, okay?” He tried to ignore the fear in Marco's eyes. He knew the boy wanted him to stay by his bedside, but he had an arsonist to catch.

“You promise you'll be back later?”

“Promise.”

“Can you bring me a Butterfinger?” he asked hopefully, his brown eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Cal chuckled. “We'll see.” As he started for the door, he heard Maria telling her son she would be right back and then Cal realized she'd followed him out into the hall.

“Cal, what do you plan to do?”

“First and foremost, I need to find Jeff Collins.”

“Shouldn't you just leave this to the police?”

Looking into eyes so like her son's, Cal realized Marco wasn't the only one worried. “I will, but first I want to talk to him myself.”

“Why?” She shook her head in confusion. “This man is dangerous.”

“I'll be careful, Maria. Don't worry.” He tried to smile to hide the doubt he was feeling, but was unsure how successful he was in convincing the woman.

A few minutes later as he rode the elevator down. Cal allowed himself to give in to his own fear and doubt.

The thought that he'd been sharing living quarters with a man who held some kind of grudge against him was one thing, but living with an arsonist was quite another. He'd almost killed an innocent child.

Despite what Maria believed, Cal knew it wasn't as easy as going to the police and letting them handle it. Jeff Collins was a decorated veteran firefighter whose whole life was about to be turned upside down on the word of a child.

The police, the fire marshal, they would all require something Cal just did not have: proof. Or at the very least, motive. Cal didn't have either, other than the thin memory of seeing him with the can of accelerant hidden under his arm. In fact, under different circumstances he would've been one of the greatest skeptics. It just didn't make any sense. But he'd take what he had to Mack, and let him make the decision.

Jeff Collins was definitely guilty of something, he thought while climbing into his truck. But was it arson?

Jeff was sitting in the common area when they came through the door. He looked up and knew that something was terribly wrong. The District chief, Mack, was in the lead. Followed by Cal, who was glaring at him like an angry bull, which in itself wouldn't have been cause for great alarm. But that inspector friend of his, Noel, was walking by his side, watching him with a kind of intensity. Not anger or malice, but definitely nothing good.

Those two were followed by two fully uniformed police officers. When the entourage stopped in front of his chair, Jeff stood. “What can I do for you?”

“Jeffrey Collins, you are under arrest for arson.”

“What?”
Jeff looked at each individual face wondering if this was some kind of crazy joke. “What are you talking about? I'm no arsonist!” Jeff only half heard his rights being read and then suddenly he was being pushed across the floor. He glanced back at Cal, knowing in his gut that he was the one responsible for all this. “First you steal my job, now my career!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Cal knew he shouldn't have responded, but the accusation was so absurd he couldn't stop himself.

“I should've been the next chief—not you!”

Cal shook his head in disbelief. “Are you telling me that you did all this because you felt slighted over a promotion?”

A flash of confusion showed in Jeff's eyes but quickly vanished. “Damn right! It should've been me!”

One of the two uniformed officers stepped forward. “Please place your hands behind your back.” Without waiting for compliance, the officer pulled Jeff's arms behind him and placed the handcuffs on.

“I'm going to get you for this, Brown!” he vowed as he was guided through the door. “You're not going to get away with this!”

As he was shoved into the police car with all his team members looking on in amazement, Jeff was already working on his plot for revenge. He'd tried to do things by the book, tried to bring the man down by legitimate means. But obviously Cal Brown wasn't going to play by the rules…so neither would he.

M
arianne sat beside Andrea at her small dining table, feeling like a complete sellout and traitor. She listened as Andrea went through the list of all the things necessary to undo six months of planning. She nodded at the appropriate time and pretended to take notes. Secretly, she had no intention of undoing anything.

She'd received a call yesterday afternoon from Cal stating that in no uncertain terms was she to cancel any part of their wedding preparations. She'd started to protest—after all, Andrea was her client—until Cal gave her indisputable evidence of his love for his fiancée. He offered Marianne a bribe—a rather nice one at that.

But the money was not why she'd chosen to do it. Truth of the matter was that despite her many years of planning weddings, half of which had ended in divorce, Marianne was still very much a romantic. She decided any man willing to bribe his wedding planner to keep his wedding from being canceled deserved a second chance.

Using a pen, Andrea ran down the list of items on the notebook in front of her. “Okay, I think that is everything.” She ripped it off and handed it to Marianne. “I'm sorry about all this, Marianne.”

Marianne forced a smile. “No problem.” She looked at the troubled face of the pretty young woman she'd been working so closely with for six months.
I hope I'm doing the right thing.

“Here's the list of our guests.” She started to hand over the neatly typed list of names and phone numbers, and paused. “Never mind. I want to call everyone myself.”

“No!” Marianne sealed her lips tightly when she realized she'd shouted. She was quickly realizing that she was not cut out to be a double agent. “Um, you have so much on your mind right now, Andrea. Let me do this for you.” She reached across the table and covered Andrea's hand. “I want to help in any way I can.”

Andrea gave her a strange look and smiled. “Are you sure?”

Not trusting her own voice, Marianne just nodded and hid her sigh of relief when Andrea handed over the list. She glanced down at the information in her hand, certain that she had gotten all the important lists away from Andrea.

She stood, eager to be away from the scene of the crime. “All right, then, I'll be going. I've got lots to do, lots to do.” She pushed her large glasses up on her nose and grabbed up her attaché. “I'll call you later.”

Andrea stood watching her. “Marianne, is everything okay?”

“Oh yes, just fine.” She hurried across the room and out the door. “Bye, bye,” she called just before the door slammed behind her.

 

Soft, warm lips pressed gently against her mouth as a large, calloused hand outlined her breast beneath her thin, silk gown. Her lips puckered in expectation of the kiss that soon came. Her back arched seeking to fill his hand, and she groaned in pleasure and anticipation. Knowing instinctively who covered her, Andrea wrapped her arms around the familiar hard body feeling his warm breath on her breast.

His broad shoulders felt so good and solid under her fingers. She felt his thigh between her legs gently pushing them apart. The cool air hit her hot center and triggered an alarm.

The heavy weight pinning her to the bed, the moisture forming between her legs, it all seemed so strangely real.

“Cal?” She whispered the word, even as she turned her head to the side to give him better assess to her neck.

Cal took the invitation, kissing a path along her soft skin. “Shh, it's okay, baby, I've got you.”

Her legs lifted of their own accord to wrap around his waist as her mind tried to understand the situation. She finally opened her eyes and focused on the bedside clock. It was almost three in the morning. Her head fell back as she felt the coarse jean material pushing against her center.

Cal wrapped his hands around her bottom, pressing her up against him. “I've missed you so much.” He whispered in her ear while fumbling with his button fly. “I've been going crazy without you.”

Andrea was caught somewhere between ultimate pleasure and complete confusion. Taking Cal's face between her hands, she looked directly in his eyes. Even in the dark room she could see the sparkle of lust and triumph there.

“What are you doing?” She pushed at his chest but he didn't bulge. In a fit of rage, she slapped him. “How dare you! Get up!” she growled.

Cal stared down at her for a moment more before rolling over onto his back and away from her. “Your body is saying you missed me as much as I missed you, so why are you fighting me?”

She scooted to a sitting position. “You can't do this, Cal! You can't just come in here in the middle of the night and climb into bed with me like it's no big deal!”

He sat up on his elbows. “You never minded before.”

“We are not together anymore.”

“Who says?”

Her eyes widened in amazement. “I say!”

He pointed an index finger at her. “No, you said we weren't going to get married until I accepted your challenge. You never said anything about being broken up.”

She shook her head frantically. He was twisting everything around. She sat up on her knees, and reached over to turn on the lamp on her bedside table. “The two things go hand in hand and you know it!”

Cal's hungry eyes quickly ran up her exposed thigh and over every inch of exposed skin. It didn't take much imagination to remember what was beneath the beige silk gown. “Andrea…do you still love me?”

There he goes playing dirty again.
“What does that have to do with anything?”

“That has everything to do with everything.”

Andrea ran both her hands over her tired eyes. “Go home, Cal.”

His eyes narrowed in silent challenge. “I am home. You're my home.”

The words were spoken with such conviction, she felt her whole insides melting. How easy it would be to give in to him. She allowed herself one quick glance over his prone form. Just a little treat, but it was too much. In his aroused state, with those all-knowing eyes watching her, he was far too much temptation.

“No, Cal, if I were your home you would feel comfortable with me. You would sha—”

“Hell.” With one push he was off the bed. “Never mind.” He grabbed his shirt off the floor where he'd apparently discarded it and began pulling it over his head. “You won't win this, Andrea. So you might as well give it up now. I love you, but I can't give you what you want. You're going to have to let it go.”

“I can't.”

He bent forward and braced his fists on the end of the bed. “Just tell me this. Why did you wait until within days of our wedding to have this little crisis?”

Little crisis?
“Get out!”

“Not until you answer the question.”

Andrea considered not answering for several long moments, before finally responding. “Because, as much as I love you, as much as I desire you, I couldn't accept the truth. I kept wishing, hoping you would let me in, but you wouldn't. You won't ever. I finally understand that.”

“Understand this! In four days we
are
getting married, even if I have to drag you down the aisle!”

“I sat down with Marianne today. She is already in the process of canceling—”

“Hah! Wrong!” he said with a wicked chuckle.

Andrea drew back at his bold statement. Her brows crunched in confusion as she watched him come toward her. He seemed so sure of himself, so much like the man she remembered.

With three long strides he came around to the side of the bed, and before she realized what was happening, he had Andrea wrapped in his arms. “I'll admit, I'm dealing with some things, and no, I'm not very good at sharing my problems. There are days when I feel as if I'm losing my mind, and before it's all said and done I may have to give up the job I love. I don't know what tomorrow will bring. But one thing is for certain, Andrea. I'm not giving you up.”

Later that same day, Andrea pulled up in front of her family home and sat watching her mother consult the gardener as to the care and pruning of her precious rose bushes. Andrea did not recognize the man, so assumed he was probably new.

She watched as her mother pointed to a bush on the far side of the garden, the man standing with her nodded his head in understanding. It was strange how easily her mother took control of the care and protection of her garden and home, and yet had so little control over her own existence.

She had not spoken to her parents since the night of the rehearsal dinner, and only some deep-rooted sense of duty had brought her here now. She had no desire to be berated by her mother regarding her embarrassing behavior, and had no idea of how her father would react.

She sighed and opened her car door, deciding it was best just to get it over with. She came up behind the pair of heads together both pointing and nodding in the direction of the trellis of white roses that leaned against the house.

“Hi, Mom,” she said softly, and was surprised when her mother turned in her direction with a full smile on her face.

“Hi, honey.” Margaret quickly dismissed the gardener, leaving him to carry out her instruction. “How are you doing?” she asked, taking Andrea's arm in hers and guiding her toward the walkway leading to the side entrance.

Andrea looked into eyes so like hers and didn't know what to make of the soft concern she found there. She'd expected anger, disappointment, but not this. “I'm fine.”

Soon she was seated at the table, and her mother was preparing a pot of coffee. Andrea watched her in silence realizing for the first time that their little talks over coffee had become a ritual.

“Have you spoken to Cal since the other night?” Margaret asked softly as she filled the carafe with water.

Andrea's frown deepened.
What is going on here?
“Um, yes, we've spoken.”

“And?”

“And…and he understands what it will take for me to marry him.”

“Andrea,” Margaret said with an exaggerated drawl as she turned to face her daughter. “Your father and I were talking.”

Oh no.

“We were thinking that maybe this isn't such a bad thing.”

Andrea just sat staring at her mother in confusion. “You and Daddy decided this, did you?”

“You're obviously having doubts about whether or not you're in love—”

“No, Mom, there are no doubts about whether or not I love him. We just need to work out the details of our life together before it's too late.”

“Well, whatever your reasons, they are your own. The point is, we were thinking that maybe you should come with us to Brazil.”

“Brazil?”

Her mother smiled with pure pleasure. “Didn't I tell you? That was my final destination choice. We are going to immerse ourselves in their rich Afro-centric culture!”

Andrea chuckled, pleased to see her mother so excited about something. “If you say so.”

Margaret reached across the table and took her daughter's hand. “Come with us, Andrea! You'll love it, and it will give you some time to clear your head and find out what you really want.”

I already know what I really want.
“Thanks, but I'm going to pass this time.”

“Why? So you can sit around mooning by yourself? Believe me, feeling sorry for yourself solves nothing.”

Before she could respond, Andrea heard her father enter the house. Her instinctively reaction was disbelief that she'd once again lost track of the time. In the next instant, she was on her feet and preparing to leave.

“I'd better get going.” She came around the table and hugged her mother tightly.

“Hi, kitten.” Her father came into the kitchen reading the mail he'd brought in. The mail she and her mother had never been allowed to bring in. Another one of his rules.

“Hi, Daddy.”

His watchful eyes scanned the kitchen quickly before landing on his daughter. “Did your mother tell you about the trip?” He shook his head. “Brazil, of all places, but it's her trip.”

“Yes, she did. Thanks, but I don't think that's such a good idea.”

He continued to scan the mail. “Why not?”

He hadn't raised his voice even a little, but Andrea felt the tension level in the room rise instantly. Even her mother seemed suddenly more alert.

Andrea swallowed hard and continued. “I just don't think it would be a wise decision to take off for parts unknown right now.”

“Who says right now? We won't be leaving for two weeks. And there are no parts unknown, we are staying in a five-star resort in Brasilia.”

“Really I appreciate the offer, Daddy, but I just don't think—”

“That's the problem, Andrea! You don't think!”