Desperately Seeking Fireman (13 page)

Maybe he didn’t want what she wanted. Maybe it was too soon for him to be in a relationship. But that was her overactive brain talking. Ask her heart, and none of that mattered. She’d fallen for him, and she’d have to take her chances.

As soon as they both woke up.

B
UT WHEN SHE
finally opened her eyes, there was a new baby boy to meet. She and Jeb, holding hands, stepped into the room where Melissa lay with a tiny bundle nestled on her shoulder. Brody had practically climbed into the hospital bed with her, and seemed completely unable to tear his eyes off his brand new son.

Melissa looked surprisingly chipper. “I’m going to recommend to all my friends that they take a boat ride through a storm right before they have their babies. It was such a relief not to be rocking around anymore, labor was almost a piece of cake. Almost,” she emphasized. She’d always been a very accurate reporter.

Nita drew close, marveling at the tiny creature’s deep, trusting sleep and miniature body parts. “Wow. Just look at him. He’s perfect.”

“He’s tough. Chip off the block, no doubt. He came a month early for no particular reason, and everything’s fine. No problems at all.” Her eyes swam with sudden tears. “Darn, I thought once the baby came I’d stop getting so emotional. No such luck. Sorry, Brody.”

“That’s all right. I think it’s catching.” Seemingly hypnotized, Brody lifted the tiny boy’s little finger with his own large one. The sight made Nita’s heart clench. This was one lucky baby, to have a father like Brody. She glanced at Jeb, and drew in a breath. His usually hard face had relaxed, his tiger eyes held a quiet, happy glow. And she realized that, in at least one respect, she was completely wrong about him. This man wouldn’t object to more children. Family was everything to him. Even when his wife discovered her attraction to women and divorced him, he still considered her family.

Suddenly tears began spilling down her cheeks in unstoppable streams. She swiped at them, caught Melissa’s concerned look, tried to speak, couldn’t. Finally she gasped, “Be right back,” and dashed for the hallway. She stumbled to the ladies’ room, shut herself in a stall, buried her head in her hands, and surrendered to the wrenching sobs.

The tears had finally caught up with her. She’d stayed one step ahead of them—using work, the senator’s crisis, Angie’s need for help, anything that came along. They’d dogged her all the way to Santa Lucia Island and back, through a media storm and a real one, until they cornered her in a county hospital bathroom.

So . . . fine.

She cried, and cried. She let the tears wash away her grief, her sadness. Let them honor her loss. Let them bear witness to her pain. Let them drown her need to succeed under a waterfall of emotion. Losing a baby didn’t make her a failure. Losing Bradford didn’t make her a failure. She’d never be perfect . . . and yet she was already perfect. Perfect as that little baby boy in there. Perfect as the baby who was never born. Perfect as the exhaustion on Melissa’s face, the love in Brody’s eyes. Perfect as the care of all the strangers who helped bring their child safely into the world.

Wounds and flaws didn’t make her less perfect. They made her more perfectly human.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, eyes still puffy from tears, Jeb was waiting for her.

“Better?” he asked, after a long, thoughtful moment of scrutiny.

She nodded. And it was true. She did feel a bit better. Maybe it was thanks to the release of that storm of tears. Maybe helping Melissa bring her baby safely into the world had helped heal some of her own pain. Or maybe . . . slowly, softly, she raised a hand to Jeb’s cheek, and watched his eyes darken . . . maybe it was thanks to the magical presence of Jeb Stone. Blunt, honest Jeb, who knew how to face things head on.

Realizing she was staring at him with, very likely, an embarrassing amount of adoration, she tried to pull her gaze away. Then she stopped. No sense in hiding her feelings. And looking at him felt so good—like something she could do for a very long time.

He held her gaze without hesitation, which made her heart melt even more. Jeb would never back away, never leave her hanging. It wasn’t in his nature. A smile spread across her face. It felt like the sun breaking through after a long rainy season.

Jeb turned his head sideways to press a kiss into her palm. “I had a thought,” he told her in a gruff voice.

“What’s that?”

“I was thinking that, after the dust settles and we get Melissa and Brody and the little guy squared away, we could continue our date.”

“Continue our date?” For a moment, she had no idea what he was talking about. The time when she didn’t know Jeb Stone seemed like a million years ago.

“Sure. And I know exactly where we can go.”

Chapter Twelve

Pacific Ocean—Two months later

S
ANTA
L
UCIA
I
SLAND
spread across the horizon like an enormous sage-green whale. Jeb sheltered Nita within the circle of his arms as they leaned on the railing of the
Danny B
. The scent of her hair, sweet as orange blossoms, mingled with the brisk saltiness of the ocean breeze. The flat Pacific sported an innocent air, as if to say,
Who me? I had nothing to do with that crazy storm. Don’t blame me.

Jeb dropped a kiss on the top of Nita’s head. He could do that sort of thing now. Over the past two months they’d talked on the phone every day, often several times a day. He’d followed her job-hunting process, which she was conducting in a desultory manner that gave him some hope. If she wanted to stay in Los Angeles, he could live with that. He’d have to put in a transfer request, and probably drop back a level, but he’d made his peace with that possibility.

On the other hand, she’d visited him several times in San Gabriel, and loved it. But there wasn’t much demand for press secretaries in a little town like that. He recognized that she needed something to pour her energy and skills into. She could run the whole town, as far as he was concerned, though she didn’t seem inclined to stay in politics. But he’d be thrilled if she came to live in San Gabriel, as long as that’s what she wanted. So would Alison, who seemed to look at their relationship as her personal achievement. The words “prayer flag” and “chant” had come up a bit too much for Jeb’s comfort.

In his opinion, this miraculous new relationship had nothing to do with supernatural forces. It belonged to him and Nita. Well, maybe Melissa had something to do with it, since he’d followed her to Santa Lucia. And Brody, since he’d asked Jeb to follow her. Hell, maybe even Senator Stryker ought to be thanked for causing a scandal.

For sure, Melissa and Brody’s little boy, named Lucius, had been essential. He and Nita, as godparents, would never forget it.

Charlie, practically bouncing with excitement, met them at the wharf. “Guess what just happened. Seriously, guess.”

“Senator Stryker’s running for president,” suggested Nita.

“What?” He did a double take. “No. The fire chief quit! Well, he went into rehab and then wrote on his Facebook page that San-L has too many triggers and he’s not coming back.”

“Good,” said Jeb, shouldering his bag and following Charlie up the ramp. “You guys deserve a good chief.”

“We sure do.” He sent Jeb a significant look, then when he got no response, tried it again.

Jeb gave him a severe frown. “No.”

“All we ask is that you think—”

“No.”

“But why—”

“I’m on a date. I don’t like to think about work when I’m on a date.”

“But we’re desperate.” Charlie opened the Enchanted Garden’s Suburban and heaved their bags in the back. “The town council put an ad in the Help Wanted section and we’ve got nothing but wackos applying. Even Old Mort said he’d do it in a pinch.”

“They’re desperate,” Nita teased Jeb after they’d all settled into their seats. “They’re desperately seeking a fire chief. How can you resist?”

“I can’t resist anything Nita says,” Jeb told Charlie. “Maybe I’ll come by the station later.”

The kid let out a wolf howl of delight. As they rattled up the road that led to the Enchanted Garden, he added, “When I heard you were coming, I thought it was for the job.”

“No. Melissa and her husband gave us this trip,” explained Nita. “They wanted us to come back to the island where it all began.”

“Interesting,” mused Charlie. “Very interesting.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see. I’m not saying anything else. Just that I bet Melissa’s been talking to a certain someone around here.”

Jeb and Nita shared a mystified glance. Charlie snapped his mouth shut and refused to say another word until they reached the Enchanted Garden. And then the sign posted on the lawn spoke for him. It could barely be read through the profusion of dahlias, a neon mélange of orange and yellow. But there it was:
For Sale by Owner
.

Nita’s eyes went wide as the flowers. “Angie’s
selling
the place?” She burst out of the van and ran to the front lawn. Angie emerged from the front door with a big soup pot. Just as she was about to ladle vegetable soup onto the marigolds, Nita stopped her with a gentle touch and said something Jeb couldn’t hear.

He grabbed their bags, waved goodbye to Charlie, and joined Angie and Nita. Angie didn’t seem to remember them. “Are you here about the ad I put in the paper? ‘Enchanted Garden Seeks Queen of the Flowers’?”

“I didn’t see it, but I have a feeling my friend did,” Nita told her. “I’m very interested, though. We’re staying for a few days, so we can talk more about it.”

So Nita was “very interested,” was she? Was she interested in knowing what he thought about it?

For that matter, what did he think about it?

“Oh, lovely!” Angie exclaimed. “It’s so nice to have guests. You know, Clint Eastwood stayed here recently.”

“Is that right?”

“Well, it might be or it might not be. Who knows?” She smiled cheerfully and trundled back inside. Jeb noticed that a crochet hook dangled from the back of her sweater, bouncing with each step.

L
ATER, IN THE
turret room, Jeb spread Nita out as if the bed was a picnic blanket and she the feast. He let his tongue roam at will, starting with the inner swell of her calves, and heading toward heaven. He nibbled his way up her golden thighs, alternating little nips with long, soothing strokes that made her groan. From the way her hips rose to meet him, he knew he was driving her crazy. But not crazy enough.

He swerved around the downy mound that made his mouth water. As much as he wanted to devour her sweet sex, first he wanted to finish what he’d started. He had nipples to play with, erect little nubs that sent him mad with desire. Plump breasts cried out to be tasted. Each delicious curve demanded its due, from tongue or teeth, or the caress of his hand. He felt the dew rise on her skin, heard her breathing turn to a shudder.

“You taste like roses,” he murmured. Unable to resist any longer, he put his mouth on her wet center. She arched upward, bunching the sheets in her fists.

“Maybe I’m the Queen of the Flowers,” she gasped.

“Quite likely,” he mumbled, her honey running over his tongue. She cried out, twisting as ecstasy seized her in its grip. He was so hard it hurt, but nothing gave him greater pleasure than milking every last spasm of pleasure from his woman.

His woman.

So maybe, just maybe, Belinda had taken a toll on his manhood. If so, he’d gotten it back with Nita—a hundredfold. Nita liked it when he got wild. She liked it when he flipped her over, yanked her ass up in the air, spread her open and sheathed himself in her heat. Quite possibly she loved it, given how her inner walls sucked at his erection, given how she shifted her ass to take him deeper. He knew she loved it. He knew he loved
her
. With that thought, he exploded into her trembling body, his orgasm hitting him hard and fast, ripping a groan from his throat.

She was sobbing out her own orgasm. He felt the ripples up and down his cock.
God
. Could anything be better than this?

Yes, he thought, as they lay belly-to-belly, clasped tight in each other’s arms. Knowing they could do this every night of their lives, and during the day as well, would be better.

“Let’s buy the place,” he said. “Let’s buy it and start serving actual coffee and maybe even eggs and bacon in the mornings. And cut the ruffle count in half.”

“What?” She mumbled, already starting to drift off.

“I’ll check into the fire chief job. If that doesn’t work out, I can volunteer. In my spare time I can fix faucets. You can run the bed and breakfast.”

“You have it all planned out, do you?” Wide awake now, she tilted her head back on the pillow, her sweat-dampened hair sticking to her neck. Tenderly he freed the strands and smoothed them out behind her.

“I’m organized that way. Admit it, you’ve been thinking about it too.”

“Well, sure, I admit it. I’ve barely been thinking about anything else except for your hot, steamy sexiness.”

He smiled. His woman sure had a way with words.

“But I didn’t know how you felt,” she continued.

“That part’s simple enough. I want to be with you. I love you.” The words slipped out without deliberate thought. At her soft indrawn breath, he realized that he’d never actually said them before. He’d thought it often enough. But maybe the words hadn’t made their way to the surface. “I know it’s still, maybe, a little early, though they say that extreme circumstances speed things up, and I know that you’re possibly still—”

“No, I’m not. It’s not. It’s perfect. I love you too. I love you so much.” Her earnest gaze clung to his. “But I have to know something. How do you feel about having children? Maybe you don’t want any more? Or maybe you do, and you’ll be disappointed if I can’t conceive?”

“Honey.” He cupped her face in his hand. “I want
you
. We’ll figure the rest out. You know me. I’m a travel-the-road-you’re-on kind of guy. Whatever comes, we’ll make it work. And we’ll have fun making it work. That part I’m sure about.”