The Fireman Who Loved Me (20 page)

“Okay, fine, grouchy.”

After she left, Brody got back into bed. He covered himself with sheets that smelled of Melissa’s lavender and vanilla scent, and laid his head on a pillow that had one of her long, dark hairs clinging to it. If he accepted Rebecca’s offer, he would never again feel Melissa’s softness, never see her eyes sparkling as she aimed one of her snappy comebacks at him. Could he bear it?

Then again, did he have a choice? She’d been kissing Everett Malcolm. Maybe, he thought as he punched the pillow, they were together right this very moment.

N
elly heard Melissa stomp into the house and toss her shoulder bag on the floor, in that untidy habit of hers. She pulled on her housecoat and padded out into the living room. “What are you doing home?”

“It’s nice to see you too,” said Melissa.

“Where’s Captain Brody? He’s not on shift tonight.”

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you know his schedule, and point out that Captain Brody’s whereabouts at any given moment are not my concern.”

Oh Lord. When Melissa talked like that, like some college professor, it was always a sign of trouble. “What happened?”

“Happened? Nothing.” Melissa tripped over her shoulder bag and kicked it out of the way. “I think we should rearrange the living room. It’s bad feng shui. We should get rid of the couches and all that potpourri, just put carpets and pillows on the floor. Like Turkey. Or is it Morocco?”

What on earth was the girl chattering about now? “No one is changing anything in this living room,” Nelly said darkly. “Not until I know what’s going on.”

“You really want to know what’s going on? You’re sure?” When Nelly nodded stubbornly, Melissa threw the words at her like live grenades. “Your precious hero fire captain turns out to be the rat of all rats. The worst of the worst. On the bright side, Dad did the right thing for once.”

“What are you blabbering about? You’re not making sense.”

Melissa told her everything that had happened, from Haskell’s eyewitness report to Brody’s look of contempt.

Nelly’s heart sank. Lord, what a tangle. She felt a stab of pain in her stomach, and, without thinking, addressed it out loud. “You, back off and let me breathe.”

“I’m sorry,” said Melissa, looking confused.

“Not you. Although I’m not at all happy with you. Why’d you let that lowlife kiss you?”

“I don’t know. It’s like this power he has. I can’t explain it.”

“Well, you’d better figure it out, if you want Brody back.”

Melissa brushed away a tear. “You don’t get it, Grans. He’s back with his ex. She’s pregnant. He always wanted a baby.”

“So? You want babies too, right?”

Even though she’d been so focused on her career, now the answer seemed obvious. “Of course.”

“You’re going to have to go to him. It’s the only way. You want that trashy ex to steal him away?”

“It’s not that simple. Not if there’s a baby. Besides, I’ve got other things to think about. My investigation, for instance. That’s all I care about right now.”

Nelly shook her head. Oh, this was a disaster. Melissa and her damn career. She was proud of her granddaughter, but there was more to life than TV news. As for Brody, she knew him well enough by now to know that he would probably sacrifice his own happiness for the sake of a baby. “We have to find out what’s really going on over there.”

Melissa shook her head. “Stay out of it, Grans.” A tear spilled over, then another.

“Stop fretting, Melissa, you’re giving me a headache. Go to sleep now. All these tears are bad for your skin.”

“Whatever you say. As long as you stay out of this.” She walked over to Nelly and hugged her, then drew back. “Grans, are you okay? You feel so skinny. Are you eating? What did you have for dinner? Let me whip you up an omelet or something.”

Nelly scowled at her granddaughter. “I don’t need one of your fancy fandango omelets. All I need is to get this mess sorted out. Don’t worry about me. Go to bed.”

“I will, as soon as you do. Do you want any Sanka, or water, anything at all?”

Nelly gave a gesture dismissing all comforting liquids as worthless swill, and let Melissa guide her to bed. She allowed her granddaughter to fuss over her and tuck her in. No point in telling her another sleepless night lay ahead. At least tonight she’d have something to chew on. As soon as possible she’d send Haskell over there to see what was what.

Chapter Twenty

A
round midnight, Ella knocked on the door of the penthouse suite of the San Gabriel Hilton. Her breath came fast as she listened to the padding of Everett’s footsteps. He opened the door wearing jeans, bare feet, and a blue cashmere sweater that made her fingers itch to fondle it. Everything about him looked so . . . rich. Classy. He exuded wealth, power, and privilege, which, for Ella, were the most intoxicating of all pheromones.

When she stepped into the apartment, her five-inch heels sank into the plush carpet. She had on the same tight cobalt suit she’d worn on the air. And still no underwear. “I did what you said.”

“I know,” he said arrogantly.

“How do you know?” she asked, indignant.

“Don’t you get it? I know you, Ms. Ella Joy.”

“We barely just met.”

He laughed softly. “You’re rather adorable. It’s a pity.”

“A pity?’

“That you’re such a mercenary little creature.”

“That’s insulting.”

“Perhaps. But we can talk about that later. Do you like this room?” He gestured around the suite. It was spectacular—a large sitting room, palatial bedroom, balcony looking out over the pool.

“It’s nice enough.” Ella pouted. Even when he was insulting her, she preferred it when his attention stayed on her.

“Let me show you around.” She could barely hide her impatience as he showed off the minibar, the giant fruit basket, the private Jacuzzi. He hadn’t even bothered to touch her yet. What kind of game was he playing? When they reached the balcony, with its sweeping view of the twinkling lights of San Gabriel, he leaned his long body against the railing and gazed down at the pool twenty floors down. Even at this late hour, several people floated in the water, and a few lounged in the chaises. “Ah, the little people. How they must envy us, here in the penthouse suite. Is life worth living in anything less than the penthouse suite?”

“Not unless you’re doing everything you can to get there,” came Ella’s emphatic answer.

“That’s my girl,” said Everett approvingly. He turned so he was leaning his back on the railing. “Unzip me.”

She raised her chin defiantly. This afternoon he’d left her high and dry, and she could still feel the ache. Now he wanted her to . . . When he speared her with an impatient look, she scurried toward him. What was this power he seemed to have over her? She unzipped his jeans. His half-aroused penis spilled out.

“Good,” he said. “Now, down on your hands and knees.”

“What?” She wasn’t going to kneel down for any man. But then again, she didn’t want to blow her chance. “Someone might see.”

“It’s the penthouse suite,” he said. “The privilege of money. This is the life you’re striving for, remember?” Oh, she remembered. “No one can see us. And I want your mouth on me. We’re wasting time.”

Which meant she was wasting her big opportunity. A blow job had to at least get her on the noon show. Besides, there was something so compelling about him. It made her stomach go fluttery, and her sex burn. Breath coming fast, she knelt down on all fours. She had to lift her head high in order to reach his erection. In this position, she could feel her skirt riding up. Her still-bare crotch was now exposed to the open air, and she felt the breeze of a door opening. Inside her mouth, she felt him getting harder.

“Just put it over there.”

At the sound of Everett’s voice, she froze. She heard movement inside the suite, soft footsteps, and the door closing again.

“Don’t stop just because the bellboy got an eyeful of the most beautiful ass I’ve seen in years,” whispered Everett.

But she was paralyzed with humiliation, and couldn’t go on. With an exclamation, he pulled her to her feet. He ripped open her blouse, sending buttons flying. Her hands flew to hide herself. She hated her small breasts and would rather die than have him see them. But he pulled her hands away and stared avidly at her bare torso.

“Perfect,” he breathed. “All nipple. Just the way I like them.” He turned her so her stomach pressed against the railing. “Arch your back. Show the little people what perfection looks like.” He rolled her nipples roughly between his thumbs and forefingers and she cried out from the sudden painful pleasure. “That’s right, let them hear. I want the whole world to hear you moan.” Another rough hand dove between her legs. Her skirt had disappeared—apparently he’d ripped that off as well—and he nudged her legs apart with his knees. He pressed her lower back so her ass pushed upward.

“Maybe I’ll call room service again,” he said roughly. “I’ll let them watch while I make your sweet ass shake.” Her legs were spread wide as he pushed three strong fingers into her. “Maybe I’ll let the busboys have a taste, when I’m done. Just a taste though. They can suck your nipples.”

Busboys sucking her nipples. She shuddered with a kind of sick fascination. “No . . .” she protested. “Please . . .”

“Then do exactly what I say. Stick those tits out. Pull on your nipples. That’s right. Stretch them out. Here, like this.”

He demonstrated with his own fingers, wet with her scent. A jolt went all the way to her crotch. He put her hands on her breasts, where his had been, then lifted her ass higher in the air and spread her lips apart. From behind, she felt him sheath himself deep within her. Her whole body throbbed. “Pull those nipples. Show the world those tits, let them all see you dance and moan. Do it!”

She pulled hard on her own nipples as he thrust deeper inside her, again and again. She forgot her embarrassing position, the risk of being seen, or worse, recognized. Or maybe . . . maybe that risk was what made her whole body feel so alive, so excited. She fondled her nipples shamelessly, and screamed out loud as his thumbs worked against her flaming clitoris.

“Now come!” he growled in her ear. “Come now!” He squeezed her crotch as he plunged to the hilt one last time, and her body arched in a fierce spasm as she shouted her long-delayed pleasure out loud to the world. Heads looked up. She heard someone laugh. But none of it mattered as her body sang with a bliss she’d never known.

T
he bellhop, it turned out, hadn’t seen a thing. The door to the bedroom had blocked his view.

“How dare you,” Ella fumed, when they had adjusted their clothing and returned to the suite. “You made me think . . .”

“I told you I know you,” answered Everett, calmly pouring them each a snifter of brandy. “You’re an exhibitionist. Having other people watch you is the biggest turn-on you know.”

Ella didn’t answer. She didn’t like the feeling that he knew her better than she knew herself. On the other hand, he’d given her a sexual experience the likes of which she’d never known. “Is that what you do? Figure out what turns women on?”

“And why not? No more powerful feeling exists than to have a beautiful woman at your mercy.” He said it in a light tone that nonetheless made her shiver.

“Is that what you did with Melissa?”

“No,” he said brusquely. “Melissa and I . . . that was different. I managed to curb my worst instincts with her. At least in the sexual realm.”

“Oh really? I heard you broke her heart.”

“Did I?” He ambled to the room service cart, and sampled a strawberry. “Better her heart than her spirit.”

“What the hell does that mean?” said Ella peevishly. Why on earth was she wasting her time talking about Melissa? How could she shift this conversation to address her needs?

“It means even the devil pulls his punches sometimes.” He brought a platter of cheese and crackers to Ella. “But I’d rather talk about you, at the moment. You’re the reason I’m here, correct?”

Busted. At least he was smiling. “There’s nothing wrong with being proactive.”

“No, indeed. Well, I think you’ve earned this.” He opened a silver case and flipped her his business card, with a name and number scrawled on the back. “Glen Woodman is my human resources guy. Give him a call and mention that I sent you. You may also tell him I said to treat you right. Now be a good girl and be off with you.”

Ella bristled at the sudden dismissal, even as she slipped the card into her satin clutch. She made a fuss over closing the purse and gathering up her wrap while she tried to figure out what was bothering her. Hadn’t she gotten what she’d wanted? An interview at the Los Angeles station! It was the chance she’d been working toward. Just get her in that interview room and she would blow them away. Of course she wouldn’t be put on the major newscasts right away. But she would get hired for the morning show, or the noon show, one of the more insignificant newscasts. In a year, she’d move up the ladder, maybe to the five o’clock news. Then it was just a matter of time until she dominated the LA news market the way she ruled San Gabriel.

And Everett would be her boss. She shivered. The thought made her mouth go dry. She would owe him . . . well, anything he wanted.

She left the hotel room, receiving nothing more than a careless nod of farewell and a yawn from Everett. Halfway down the hall, her cell phone rang.

Everett’s gravelly voice growled in her ear. “I’ve decided to stay in town a few more days. I’ll expect you back here tomorrow at three.”

“The afternoon news meeting’s at three. I can’t.”

“Entirely your choice, of course.” And he hung up.

What a devil
. She tossed the phone into her clutch. Was he trying to make her mess up at her job? She didn’t have the Los Angeles contract yet. Melissa’s warning came back to her, the one about him “ruining people’s careers.” Phooey to that. Melissa just didn’t know how to handle a man like Everett Malcolm.

A
t Starbucks, Melissa handed the tiny lipstick camera to Rodrigo. Tomorrow the caseworker would show up to collect her blood money.

“It’s so small,” he said, in an awed voice.

“The last thing we want is for someone to spot it. The cameraman suggested you hide it in a baseball cap. Do you ever wear one?”

“Sometimes. But she makes me take it off in the house.”

“That won’t work then. You can always clip it to your shirt.” Every time she’d seen him, including now, he was wearing a T-shirt. Today’s shirt had a picture of a skateboarder in mid-spin. Where could a camera, even a tiny one, hide on a T-shirt?

“What about here?” Rodrigo clipped it to the crucifix that hung around his neck.

“No, it’s too visible. Do you have a watch?”

“Yeah, but it’s broken.” A shadow crossed his face, and Melissa imagined the scene that might have resulted in a broken watch.

“That’s okay, as long as the wristband is fine.”

He nodded.

“The camera might blend in with the watch. You can clip it to the band. It’s not the best spot, but it might be the best we can do right now. But do you think . . . do you think it might get broken again?” she asked, as delicately as possible.

“Nooo . . . I can make sure it doesn’t.”

“Okay then. Put it on the watch, the way I showed you. Don’t forget it’s there, but try not to give yourself away either. Do you think you can manage that?”

“Yes. I’m going to hide in the closet anyway. They’ll never see me. But there’s a hole in the closet door, and I’ll just stick the camera up to the hole.”

“You’ve planned this out,” said Melissa, pleased. “Really good thinking, Rodrigo. I’m proud of you.”

He ducked his head at the praise.

“It’s safe, in the closet?”

“Sure. Safe as anywhere. If they see me, I’ll say I’m playing hide-and-seek with the younger ones. And I will be. I already told them I’d play a game with them today.”

“That’s wonderful, Rodrigo,” said Melissa warmly. “You’re a smart kid. And you’re very brave.”

He flushed, and shook his head. “No,” he mumbled. “If I was brave, I’d stand up for myself. And for the others.”

She reached over the table and put a hand on his shoulder. “You
are
standing up for yourself. Not very many kids would have the courage to do this. I’m really proud of you, and really glad you came to me. Here, I got you this.” She handed him a disposable cell phone. “It has 911 programmed in, and it has my number. If anything happens, just press one or two. One is 911, two is me. Got it?”

He nodded, appropriately awed by her serious tone. “Nothing’s gonna happen though. I got this dialed in.”

“All right.” She smiled. “Just be careful. Pretend I’m a fussy old grandmother.”

“Yeah, right.” He snorted, and she was delighted to see a smile brighten his thin face. After carefully tucking the tiny camera deep inside his pocket, he headed off to catch his bus.

Melissa trudged back to the station. Without Brody, there wasn’t much to look forward to. Since the scene with Everett, four days ago, she’d heard nothing from Brody. Those four days felt like four years. Obviously, she was never going to hear from him again. She would just have to accept that and move on. Move forward. Just another heartbreak—the world had seen a million of them. Big deal.

The afternoon news meeting was about to begin and, with a heavy heart, she opened the conference room door and settled into her usual seat. Producers and reporters were still trickling in. No sign of Ella yet. The buzz of news gossip filled the room. Listening with zero interest, Melissa learned that a freelancer who had been let go from Channel Six was now anchoring the morning newsbreaks at Channel Two. The City Hall fire had been ruled an accident. Had anyone else seen Ella skip off after the show last night? And the night before? Yes, and one of the photographers had seen her BMW pull up outside the Hilton. Everett Malcolm was rumored to be staying there.

Melissa froze. Ella was hooking up with Everett. Of course.

It was déjà vu all over again. She should have seen it coming.

She gripped the conference room table as the humiliating memory came crashing back.

Her last day at work in Los Angeles. She’d made up her mind to confront Everett once and for all. She had to talk to him, make him see what he meant to her. He was her mentor, her teacher, her idol. After a quick knock on his closed office door, she’d slipped inside. At his desk, Everett had jerked in alarm.

“What are you doing, Melissa?”

“Everett, you know I love you,” she’d burst out. “I thought you loved me too.”