The Fireman Who Loved Me (18 page)

He took a while to answer, and when he did, his voice sounded very strange. “I’ll have to call you back. Something’s come up.”

“Of course. But you don’t have to call me back. I’ll just come by after work.”

“No, better wait until I call.” And he hung up. Melissa snapped her phone shut. Her stomach went tight. He’d never turned down a visit from her before. His voice sounded different too. Distant. Like a stranger.

Something was wrong. She knew it.

B
rody stared at the woman on his front step as if she were a ghost. Rebecca stood before him.
Rebecca
. The girl he’d fallen in love with at the age of fourteen. The girl he’d protected from her nasty stepfather, the girl he’d married at the age of nineteen, the woman who’d walked away from their life without a second glance. She still had that wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights look that had drawn him to her. But now she wore an anxious look and had new wrinkles at the edges of her eyes, new blond streaks in her hair.

And a new baby growing in her belly. He stared at the small but unmistakable bump pushing against her clinging maternity tank top.

Trust Rebecca to find a way to make maternity clothes sexy.

Maybe that was her newest money-making scheme. Red-hot mama. Mamacita. MILF maternity clothes.
Stop, stop it
.
Don’t let her make you crazy again.

“Sorry to just show up like this,” said Rebecca. “I had nowhere else to go.”

Nowhere else to go? She had the whole world, didn’t she? When she’d left, she’d told him anywhere was better than here, with him. But his protective instincts were too powerful to let him say that. On autopilot, he stepped back and let her in. He still held his cell phone, and vaguely remembered talking to Melissa. He followed Rebecca as she looked around his living room.

“Your place looks good,” said Rebecca. “You’ve done a lotta work.”

“It’s not finished yet.”

“How not finished?” In the kitchen, she trailed a hand along the counter. His counter. He fought an impulse to slap her hand away from it.

“What do you mean?”

“Finished enough so I can stay here?”

“
What?
”

Before he could explode, she turned and faced him head-on. “I wouldn’t be here if I had a choice, so just get that straight. I’m desperate. I’m pregnant.”

“I can see that,” he said in a thin voice.

“This one’s sticking around. Unlike its daddy. Thor kicked me out and took all the money from the flip-flops. He claims he came up with them, which you know is a lie, but his brother-in-law’s a lawyer, so I’m screwed. I’ve got nowhere, Brody. Just let me stay for a little bit, until I can figure something out.”

“That’s a lot to ask, don’t you think?” This came out in a mild tone that bore no relation to what Brody was feeling. What he wanted to say was
You think you can dump me, throw me over for another man, then waltz back in without so much as a phone call? You’re insane.

“Brody, I’m pregnant. Think of the baby, not me.” She cupped her hand around the side of her belly.

Who was she to tell him to think of the baby? She’d hated their baby. Their baby had been a burden to her. As if she could read his thoughts, she broke in. “I’m on antidepressants this time. Turns out I had real bad depression before. I didn’t get it back then. This time it’s different.”

Sure, it was different. It wasn’t his baby. It wasn’t his business.
He turned his back to her so he could think.

What if he turned her away and something happened to her baby? He’d never forgive himself. Her miscarriage still weighed on him. What if this was a chance to make up for that? If he did this thing for her, he could stop beating himself up about the baby they should have had.

So what if she’d screwed him over. That didn’t mean he should refuse to help her.

But he couldn’t live in the same space with her either. He scanned the house. The back bedrooms had already been enclosed. The plumber had hooked everything up two days ago. No kitchen yet. If she could live on takeout, without cooking, no reason why she couldn’t camp out here.

“You can stay. Only until you get on your feet. You’re on your own for food.” He indicated the still-unfinished kitchen. “Nothing’s working in there yet.”

“I won’t get in your way, I promise. Thank you, Harry.”

“No, you won’t get in my way,” he snapped. “I’m not staying here, I’m in the trailer.” As he turned to head to the Airstream, he caught the quick flash of disappointment in her eyes.

Disappointment because they wouldn’t be sleeping in the same house? What was she up to? After all this time, did she want him back?

He slammed the newly hung door behind him. His marriage to Rebecca was over. Dead and gone. She’d killed it, or maybe the miscarriage had. Whatever it was, he felt nothing for her anymore. He’d help her out, she’d go on her way, and that would be that.

He completely forgot to call Melissa back.

Chapter Eighteen

B
ack at the station, Melissa asked Greg to show her how to work the tiny lipstick camera. His lesson seemed to take hours, but she kept checking her watch and seeing that no time at all had passed. Why didn’t Brody call? He never forgot to call. Sometimes he called twice a day. What had happened? Greg flicked her arm, and she jumped.

“Huh? What?”

“I asked,” he said with exaggerated patience, “whether this kid wears a baseball cap. A lot of them do, you know, backward or sideways.”

“Oh. I don’t think so. He didn’t have one on.”

“What was he wearing?”

Melissa couldn’t remember. It seemed like days since her meeting with Rodrigo. “I don’t know. I’ll call him and see if he can wear a cap.”

“That’d be best.” He showed her how to mount it on a cap, then packed the camera away in its case.

“You okay, Melissa?”

“Of course. What do you mean?”

“You seem distracted. Trouble with the fire captain? Those guys are tough. Gotta play hard to get with them.”

Too late now.
“I’ll try and remember that.”

“You’re a precious gift from God, remember that too.”

“Oh really?”

“That’s what my mama tells me every time a girl dumps me.”

“Brody didn’t dump me.”
Yet.
“Anyway, who says we’re even dating?”

“Everyone. But don’t trip, I won’t tell anyone he dumped you.”

“He didn’t . . . ! Argh.” But she had to laugh at his teasing.

“There’s that beautiful smile. Just keep smiling, girl. Precious gift from God, don’t forget.”

“I hate you, Greg,” she said, giving him a big hug. “And thanks for your advice.”

Back in her cubicle, the phone squatted on her desk like an evil black toad. She jammed it into her drawer so she wouldn’t have to look at it. Where was Brody? What had happened to him? Maybe she should call him back, instead of waiting. But bugging him was pointless. He’d call her when he could. She should trust him. Have a little faith. Too bad Everett had crushed the faith right out of her. But Brody was so different from Everett—loyal, straightforward, honest.

If only he would call.

H
askell left his AA meeting feeling unusually optimistic. He didn’t often speak at the meetings. But today, in the sunny community hall where he’d spent Friday nights and most lunch hours for the last three years, he’d gotten to his feet and talked about Melissa. How she’d lent him her car, and what a huge step that was. Years ago, when she’d still been in college, he’d given her a car so she could drive to her journalism classes. But then he’d gotten drunk, “borrowed” it, and wrecked it. He’d felt so awful that he’d gotten drunk again, started a bar brawl, and wound up in jail. She’d had to take the bus to bail him out.

So cars were a sore point, and it meant so much that Melissa had let him take her car without any nasty comments about the past. He’d shared this with the group, and had received genuine smiles of gladness. These people cared about him. His mother cared about him. Captain Brody cared about him. And maybe . . . just maybe his daughter did too.

Whistling, he drove back up Brody’s driveway. He loved the days he worked at Brody’s house. The hours passed so pleasantly, with just the right amount of conversation—not much. Of course he knew that Brody and Melissa had something going on, but he and Brody never discussed that. If asked, Haskell would have said Brody would make a fine son-in-law, but no one was asking him. He kept his own counsel and focused on the job. He’d finished the wiring, and now he was helping Brody with other odds and ends. This afternoon they planned to tackle the kitchen cabinets.

He got out of Melissa’s car, checked it over to make sure he’d done no inadvertent damage, and strolled past the Airstream toward the house. He saw Brody moving around in the trailer. Must be finishing his lunch. No problem; he’d go ahead and get all the tools together for their afternoon’s work. Save time. He opened the door and stopped in shock.

A pregnant woman sat perched on a bucket of spackle. She was gorgeous. Long hair streaked with blond, tanned skin, sexy outfit. Kinda like Bo Derek or Cheryl Tiegs, one of those old-time calendar girls.

“Oh!” She started to get to her feet.

“Please don’t,” he said quickly. “I’m here to work.”

“You’re helping Harry out?”

“Yeah. Wiring and other stuff.”

“Good thing you’re here then. Any chance you can get that fridge hooked up? Harry said the kitchen’s not done, but it’d be nice to at least have some Cokes around. Or beer, for you hardworking guys.” A tentative smile accompanied this last comment, but Haskell ignored it.

“You’re . . . staying here?” This came out in a tone that seemed to offend her.

“Yeah, what’s it to you?”

“Nothing. Surprised, is all.”

“Really? Didn’t you know Harry was married?”

Haskell gave her a narrow stare. Brody didn’t talk much about his personal life, but he would have known if the captain was married. “Married to
you
?”

“Yeah, nosy. Married to me. So I suggest you take a look at that refrigerator. It’d be nice to have it working before the baby comes. And we’ll definitely need a washer and dryer too. I’ll start making a list.”

Haskell did not like her. Not one bit. And right now, he didn’t like Brody much either. Without comment, he turned on his heel and walked back out to Melissa’s car.

“Hey! Come back here!” she called, but he ignored her and got into the car. It wasn’t his business, but he wasn’t about to let his daughter get blindsided. He’d done enough damage to her over the years. The last thing Melissa needed was to get hurt again. He headed for Channel Six.

“A
re you trying to ruin
everything
?” In the station parking garage, Melissa whirled away from her father. “Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt, Mel.”

“Too late. This
hurts
.”

“I thought you should know. I better go now.”

Melissa ignored him. Part of her knew she was being unfair. It wasn’t his fault a pregnant woman claiming to be Brody’s wife was staying at his house. It wasn’t his fault she felt like a neutron bomb had just dropped on her. But she couldn’t look at him.

“Maybe there’s a good explanation.”

“I don’t know, Melissa. She wanted me to get the fridge going, and the washer-dryer. Said she needed them for the baby. She’s sticking around. And she’s definitely pregnant.”

Melissa had the childish impulse to cover her ears and yell, “Lalala.”

“I’m real sorry. Did I do the right thing, telling you?”

“Yes . . . I don’t know . . .” She clenched her fists hard enough to feel her fingernails dig into the heels of her hands. “I hate this. I hate it.”

“I better go now. Do you want your car back? I can take a bus.”

She shook her head violently. ”Just go.”

Her dad got in her Volvo and backed up, like someone leaving the scene of the crime. Melissa wheeled around in a frantic little circle, wishing she were anywhere but here, in this moment, facing
this
. Her dad was right. What explanation could there be? Maybe the woman wasn’t Rebecca, and Haskell had misunderstood. Or maybe the woman wasn’t Rebecca, but some other woman Brody had impregnated. Or maybe she was Rebecca, and the baby was Brody’s.

She could think of a million explanations, but the only one who knew the truth was Brody. And Brody still hadn’t called to tell her about any of this. Maybe he had no intention of calling her. Maybe he planned to blow her off. Why hadn’t he told her himself?

It’s not as if they had a real relationship. He didn’t owe her a thing. He could do whatever he wanted with whoever he wanted, without running it past her. They were just two people having sex.

So why did this hurt so much?

Gritting her teeth, she headed back up to the newsroom. She still had to get some work done before the end of the day. God only knew how she’d be able to concentrate. She should never have gotten involved with Brody. Yet another arrogant male trampling all over her feelings.

As if she’d conjured a demon, she spotted a familiar brown leather jacket in the doorjamb of her cubicle. It was draped over the shoulder of a tall, lean man. Grizzled, gray-blond hair. Head cocked in that arrogant way. The man’s head turned, and over his shoulder he gave her that wry smile that had always caused such a riot in her insides.

“Melissa,” Everett said in that devastating, gravelly voice. “You’re a sight for famished eyes.”

Famished eyes?
Melissa took refuge in a sarcastic grammar critique.
Who says things like that?
Everett Malcolm, that’s who. Globe-trotter, adventurer, securer of interviews with world leaders and renegade drug lords, legendary newsman, manipulative heartbreaker. Everett Malcolm, who had crushed Melissa’s heart and tossed her aside like an old orange peel. Made her lose her confidence, just as Brody had said.

Everett shifted his body to face her, and behind him she saw Ella in her favorite pose, perched cross-legged on Melissa’s desk.

“What . . . what are you doing here?” she said faintly.

He looked mildly surprised. “You invited me, remember? A bit of a surprise, but an entirely welcome one.”

Melissa gaped at him. Invited him? Why the hell would she invite Everett anywhere? Especially here to the most gossipy newsroom on the planet, where already all work had stopped and all eyes were glued to the little scene playing out. Behind Everett, Ella put her hands together in a pleading gesture.

Quickly, Melissa connected the dots.
Unbelievable.
Ella had, apparently, invited Everett to San Gabriel, and now expected Melissa to cover for her. Talk about nerve. Melissa opened her mouth to give her the ripping she deserved, but Ella pulled out her two-ratings-points, queen-of-the-newsroom look that always made Melissa hesitate.

Ella hopped off the desk and slinked to Everett’s side. She linked her arm through his. “Everett and I were just talking about what a fantastic job you did on the City Hall fire. I don’t know how many people have told me what a great team we make.”

Melissa found her voice. “Team?”

“Yes, team,” Ella answered quickly. “Like I told Everett, I like to give credit where credit’s due. When someone does good work for me, I go straight to the news director and I make sure something comes out of it. Promotion, raise, something. My news director trusts me inplicitly.”

In-
plicitly
?
Melissa saw Everett smirk at Ella’s error. But she was more interested in Ella’s hidden meaning, which was pretty obvious. If Melissa refrained from busting her, Ella would make sure she got that promotion Loudon had dangled in front of her.

How many games could one tiny, ambitious anchor play? Did she think Everett would actually hire her? Melissa was sick of Ella’s ridiculous ploys. If Ella wanted Everett, for whatever reason, she could have him. The two of them deserved each other.

She shrugged and turned to leave. The next thing she knew, firm footsteps sounded behind her. Everett took her by the shoulders and whirled her around. His world-weary, bleached-blue eyes looked down into hers, and the old magic that had ruled her life for two roller-coaster years gripped her. He smiled that wry smile, and bent his head toward hers.

W
hen Brody heard the sound of a car pulling out, at first he’d thought it was Rebecca, deciding to move on. But it was Haskell. He must have come back early from lunch.

He must have seen Rebecca.

Brody bounded into the house, where Rebecca leaned against the kitchen sink, opening a can of Diet Coke. She took a sip and made a face.

“Warm Coke tastes like spit-up, I swear. Don’t you think a fridge would be nice to have in here?”

“I told you there was no kitchen.”

“I know, but how hard is it to plug in a fridge? Your little helper there acted like I asked for the moon.” She took another sip, made a disgusted face, and poured the rest down the sink.

“It’s not”—too late—“hooked up.” The Coke poured out onto the floor. He knelt down to wipe the mess up with some work rags. Rebecca backed away, giggling.

“Oopsy, I’m sorry, Harry. Pregnancy brain. I do the dumbest things sometimes.”

“What did you say to Haskell? The man who was here.”

“Nothing. Just about the fridge.”

“Did you say who you were?”

“Not exactly. He didn’t introduce himself either,” she said defensively.

“Not exactly? Come on, Rebecca, don’t fuck with me. Tell me what you said, or you’re out of here.” He gave her his steeliest look.

“I didn’t tell him shit. I just asked whether he knew you were married or not.”

Brody swore as he swabbed the puddle of Coke. He had to get out of here. Get to Melissa before Haskell did. Or if he’d already gotten there, he had to repair whatever damage had been done.

“Here,” he said, and thrust the Coke-soaked rag at Rebecca. “Clean up that mess while I clean up your other one. Damn you, why couldn’t you have stayed in San Diego?”

On the way to the TV station, he tried Melissa’s cell, but she wasn’t answering. He seemed to hit every stoplight, every construction zone, every spot of gridlock in the greater San Gabriel area. Jet packs, he thought fiercely. He should have his own private jet pack for moments like this. Of course Haskell had gone to warn his daughter that her lover’s pregnant ex-wife had shown up. God knew what she was thinking by now.
If only he had called her earlier.

But it would still be okay. He would explain, and she would understand. Melissa was intelligent—she would get it. She wasn’t the hysterical, drama-loving type. He loved that about her, along with that mile-a-minute brain of hers, which was totally at odds with her wild, hot sexuality. He found the combination irresistible. He’d explain everything, she’d understand right away, and they could go back to having crazy hot sex in his trailer.

As he ran into the newsroom, he skidded to a halt at the sight of Melissa wrapped in the tight embrace of a tall man in a leather jacket. She didn’t seem to mind one bit. No, indeed. The man was kissing her, and she was kissing him right back. Those soft lips that just last night had traveled his body with tender hunger, that had tasted his erection, licked his neck, were now intimately entangled with another man. His head spun with a sick, murderous fury.