Desperately Seeking Fireman (3 page)

“So he followed you here?”

“Yes. It’s outrageous. I don’t need a babysitter and Brody ought to know that. How am I supposed to work with that . . . guard dog breathing down my neck?”

Jeb was looking rather Rottweiler-like, as if he were ready to pounce.

“It’s sweet that Brody’s so worried,” Nita ventured.

“Sweet? It’s bossy. If he had his way, I’d spend the next month in bed while he massaged my feet.”

“That’s . . . terrible?” Nita wasn’t sure of the right response, since Bradford had never once offered her a foot massage.

“These firemen are impossible.” Melissa raised her voice so Jeb couldn’t avoid hearing her. “They’re overprotective, macho, bossy, and they don’t know when to back off.”

Jeb grabbed Melissa’s overnight bag, which she’d dropped near the foot of the ramp, and strode forward. “I’d like to book a room in the same place Melissa’s staying.”

Nita looked at Melissa, who shook her head violently. “You absolutely cannot give him a room.”

“I don’t own the place,” Nita said carefully. “It’s not really up to me.”

“But the senator booked the whole inn, right?” Melissa said. “I told Jeb there wouldn’t be room for him.”

Jeb whipped off his sunglasses, the movement screaming of irritation.
Those eyes.
Tiger stripes, burning bright. “Can I speak to you in private for a moment?” he asked Nita.

Melissa’s lips tightened, but just then her phone rang. Rolling her eyes, she answered it. Before Nita could quite realize what was happening, a strong hand gripped her upper arm and led her away from Melissa’s vicinity. At his touch, Nita’s heart started up a game of hopscotch in her chest.

Facing each other, she noticed he looked older, as if the last three years had taken a toll. She probably looked much the same.

“I think it’s pretty clear that Melissa isn’t entirely herself,” he said in a low voice. “She needs me, whether she admits it or not. Can I count on you to help me out here?”

“I don’t know. She seems pretty opposed to having you around.”

“No kidding. What tipped you off?”

Her temper flared. “Hey, don’t get sarcastic with me. I’m an innocent bystander here.”

“Yeah? The way she tells it, you called her and begged her to come. Do you really think eight months pregnant is the right time to be traveling this far out to sea?”

Never mind that she hadn’t known Melissa was pregnant. Did the man have to be so condescending? She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m starting to see why she’s annoyed. And I still don’t see why she’d need
you
around. Your manners are horrible. You didn’t even say hello to me.”

His head jerked back a bit. He frowned at her. She noticed lines fanning from the corners of his gold-striped eyes. “I wasn’t sure you remembered me.”

Was he kidding? He wasn’t the sort of man you forgot. Not if you were a woman.

“Hello,” he added, almost as an afterthought. Then smiled. And oh God, that smile seemed to work its way from the core of his being, outward to his beautiful mouth, with its full lower lip and sensual upper lip. Killer smile. Killer everything. “It’s nice to see you again.”

The rote words reminded her that he was married and had the perfect family. “Likewise.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but oddly, wasn’t exactly untrue, either.

“How’ve you been? How’s Mr. Million Dollar Deal?”

A slow wave of heat traveled through her. He really
did
remember. “Gone. How are your marriage vows?”

“Voided by mutual agreement.”

Well.
Well.

Suddenly she felt so lightheaded she couldn’t think of a thing to say. She cleared her throat. He leaned toward her ever so slightly. She felt as if she was standing on a ship that was rocking back and forth.

Just then Melissa marched toward them. “I promised Brody I wouldn’t use my big belly to push Jeb off the dock. But that doesn’t mean I’m cool with this whole thing. Anyway, how about we figure this situation out somewhere with a bathroom?”

Chapter Three

O
F ALL THE
luck
. Jeb couldn’t believe Nita Moreno, the same woman he’d nearly made an ass of himself over at Brody’s wedding, had turned up again. He remembered being unable to stop staring at her, drawn by the dark satin of her hair piled in glossy, tumbling curls. The wild rose color of her bridesmaid’s dress had made her skin glow like sunlit honey. She looked thinner now, in a way that suggested she’d been sick. But she still wore that confident poise that both drew him and made him want to get under her skin.

Just before Brody’s wedding, Belinda had told him that she wanted an open relationship, and that he was free to pursue someone else. When he laid eyes on Nita Moreno, he’d been tempted. Extremely tempted. Until she’d shot him down with her billionaire boyfriend and snide comment about marriage vows. After that he decided he wasn’t cut out for “open relationships” and decided to wait until he and Belinda officially ended their marriage.

The sight of Nita brought back a faint feeling of embarrassment. Along with the same fierce tug of attraction. Maybe fiercer.

He stole a look at her behind the wheel. She wore simple white jeans and a cobalt-blue top that set off her tight, graceful body. An air of drive and tension clung to her, but he didn’t mind that. An adrenaline junkie himself, he liked women who were passionate about what they did. He’d admired various female paramedics and doctors—from a distance, of course. Despite Belinda’s permission, he’d never strayed. Too damn complicated. Not fair to Alison.

But even though he wasn’t married now, chances were Nita still thought he was a dick.

Settling into the back seat, he watched her slender hands manipulate the gear shift to back them out of the parking spot. He sincerely hoped he didn’t spend his whole time on Santa Lucia staring at her. At least Melissa was ignoring him now, which was a huge improvement over the way she’d stormed at him on the ferryboat.

In the front seat, Nita was telling Melissa about Senator Stryker. “He’s mortified. He didn’t know where to turn. I mean, who knew he had an inner drag queen just dying to get out?”

“You didn’t suspect?”

“No! He’s always been so strait-laced and dull. His nickname in Sacramento was Senator Sleeping Pill. Now it’s Senator Spanx. It makes you wonder if you ever really know anyone. A lot of things make you wonder that,” she added, somewhat bitterly.

Melissa shook her head. “I bet you’re mad as hell at the man, after the years you’ve put in with him.”

“At first I just felt bad for him, because he seemed so humbled. He was completely embarrassed. I found him this out-of-the-way, oddball inn where no one will ever think to look for him. The owner, Angie, seems to be a little senile. Either senile or very whimsical. She sings to the flowers in her garden. Also, she thinks Stryker is Clint Eastwood. Or Jeff Bridges, depending on the time of day.”

“He must be eating that up. He never had a small ego problem. Has he been driving you crazy?”

“It’s definitely made me think. He’s like a teenager who got grounded. He keeps making excuses . . .” Nita hesitated, sucked in her cheek, then glanced in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were so beautiful. Bright and dark and swimming with expression. Oops, he was staring. “I’ll tell you everything later,” she said warily.

“Oh, you mean him?” Melissa tossed a look of annoyance over her shoulder. “If he’s anything like Brody—and he probably is, because he’s a fire captain too, and Brody raves about him—he’ll be stuck to me like toilet paper on my shoe. Brody sent him. Everyone does what Brody says.”

“He asked me for a favor,” said Jeb, getting annoyed. “Which I interrupted my vacation to do, by the way.” Brody owed him, big-time.

“You know, Melissa,” Nita said, “I just thought of something. Angie can really use some help around the Enchanted Garden. She does pretty well considering she’s over eighty. I’ve been doing everything I can, but my fix-it skills are minimal. A man would come in very handy.”

Was that a wink? Yes, sexy Nita had winked at him in the rear-view mirror. A completely inappropriate body part responded.

A slow smile spread across his face. He dipped his head in silent thanks. She was trying to help him out, as he’d asked her to.

It worked, too. Melissa changed her tune instantly. “Really, he can be useful as something other than a watchdog? That’s different, then. Jeb, do you mind giving Nita a hand?”

He raised his eyebrow at Nita, infusing the gesture with as much teasing intention as he could. “My hands are all hers.”

She made a face at him in the rear-view mirror. Even with a scrunched forehead, she appealed to him. He was enjoying their conversation-by-mirror. It was as if an entire silent discussion was taking place out of Melissa’s view.

Melissa shifted back and forth on her seat. “How far is it? The bathroom situation is getting dire.”

Nita pointed vaguely ahead. “Oh, not far. And the drive is very scenic. It’s one of my favorite parts of the island, and—”

Jeb leaned forward. “You don’t understand. She needs a bathroom
now
.” He’d never forget Belinda’s champion peeing. “Anything closer?”

For the first time, Melissa gave him a look that wasn’t angry, her green eyes glowing with something suspiciously like gratitude. Nita swung the wheel to the side and pulled into the nearest parking lot, which happened to belong to the Santa Lucia Volunteer Fire Department.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Melissa groaned. “More firemen? Is anywhere safe?”

“Come on.” Jeb jumped out and opened the door for her. He helped her out, then hurried her into the building, which was painted a light pink. Inside, a young, sandy-haired sprout in uniform jumped to his feet.

“Ladies room?” Jeb asked, or rather,
ordered
in the captain’s voice of authority that never failed. “I’m Captain Jeb Stone from the San Gabriel Fire Department and this woman needs a bathroom.” Melissa seemed to be focused entirely on not peeing, and didn’t say a word, not even a protest at how Jeb was taking charge.

The young firefighter, mouth agape, pointed down the hall. Jeb hustled Melissa to the bathroom, shoved her inside, then stood with his back to the door, arms crossed, like some kind of Secret Service officer.

Nita hurried to join him, her eyes wide with alarm. “Is she okay?”

“Far as I know. I’m sure she’ll tell us if she isn’t.”

“You . . . how did you know about the bathroom . . .”

“I have a daughter,” he said. “She’s nineteen now, but I still remember what those last weeks of pregnancy were like.”

A funny expression crossed her face. “Did you do this for your wife? Bundle her into random bathrooms?”

“Once we didn’t make it to a bathroom. I found her a nice shrub.”

She studied him as if he was some sort of zoo animal. At this close range, he saw that his initial impression had been correct. Not only did she look more tired than she had at the wedding, but more sad as well. It showed in the slump of her shoulders and the way her smile didn’t quite engage her whole mouth. He wondered if Mr. Millionaire was to blame.

“Was that . . . I don’t know . . . weird? Awkward? Uncomfortable?” she asked.

“I think she was mostly relieved, actually.”

“I mean for you.”

She was standing about an arm’s length from him, but she was leaning in so close that he caught the fresh fragrance of her skin. There was something very clean about her. Clean and bright, like a piece of sea glass tumbled by the ocean. Made him want to dirty her up a little. Like against the wall, right here, right now.

Shove it, Stone
, he told himself sternly. He wasn’t going to make a fool of himself again.

Her eyes, the deep bronze of strongly brewed tea, were still fixed on him. Right, she was waiting for an answer to her bizarre question. “A woman taking a leak is not weird to me, no. I see all sorts of things in my job. Even at eighteen, I knew girls had bladders too.”

“You were a teenage father, then.”

“Yeah.” Where the hell was she headed with these questions? They seemed very personal. Not that he minded, because she’d taken another mini-step closer to him and his body was very aware of that fact. Unnervingly so.

“Were you . . . I mean, was it . . . Never mind.”

“Oh no, you don’t. You’ve got me curious now. There’s a reason behind all those questions. You ought to just tell me what it is.”

“Maybe I’m just curious.”

“You don’t know me, and we’re talking about peeing in the bushes.”

She started to laugh, then covered her mouth with one hand, as if she’d shocked herself. His sense of intrigue deepened. It looked to him as if she hadn’t laughed in a while.

“You don’t know me from Adam, so what’s it going to hurt?” he added.

Her forehead creased in a frown. “Why do you want to know? Most men would rather skip the whole bare-your-soul routine.”

He could say he wasn’t most men, but that wasn’t really true. On the dates he’d been on since the divorce, he’d listened to his share of sob stories. Apparently that’s what dating was these days. You met someone, ordered sushi and explained that your father had abandoned you at the age of thirteen and you’d never gotten over it. After a certain amount of sake, you explained why that meant you were into bondage. By the time the green tea sorbet arrived, your date, if he was Captain Jeb Stone, was about to self-mutilate.

But for some reason, he sincerely wanted to know what was motivating Nita’s questions and making her sad.

Blame it on the rearview mirror. Or the way she’d looked in that bridesmaid’s dress.

She was still watching him steadily. Almost absentmindedly, she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She wore no makeup, and a light sheen of sweat dampened her skin, as if she’d been working hard before rushing to the dock to pick them up. His gaze dropped to her mouth, which had an elegantly elongated upper lip. The rest of her screamed busy, on-the-go working woman, but the shape of her mouth said dreamer, with a dash of sensualist.

He wanted to kiss that mouth. Feel its soft give. Tease her passion to the surface.