Desperately Seeking Fireman (8 page)

The faint blare of the ferry’s horn interrupted her thoughts. “We’d better run. People get testy if you leave your groceries just sitting on the wharf. Here.”

She tossed him his boxers and jeans, and stepped into her sundress. He pulled on his T-shirt, his muscles bunching. She took a moment to appreciate his solid, powerful build, and thought of how straightforward he’d been in every conversation they’d had. Maybe this was just sexual healing, but no matter what, she could trust this man. He wouldn’t lie to her. He wouldn’t pretend something he didn’t feel, then run for cover when things got real.

With his honesty, his integrity, his dry sense of humor, and his incredible love making, he was definitely someone she could fall in love with. She’d have to make completely, absolutely sure she didn’t. Another heartbreak would shatter her.

When they reached the wharf, all thoughts of love fled at the sight that greeted them. A confused throng of reporters, camera people, and other members of the media milled around the dock. Camera equipment filled the cargo shed.

The senator’s secret location wasn’t a secret anymore.

Chapter Seven

T
HE
E
NCHANTED
G
ARDEN
was under siege. The sidewalk out front bristled with tripods and cameras. Reporters paced back and forth, cell phones in one hand, coffee cups in the other. When the ladies arrived for their tea, Jeb had to push his way through the crowd and personally escort them inside.

Spotting a business opportunity, Angie gave in and began brewing coffee for the hordes and charging an outrageous five dollars a cup. In Jeb’s opinion, it should have been ten considering the amount of aggravation the press provoked. But he was happy about the coffee.

Inside the inn, things were just as crazy as outside. The senator ranted and roared, until Nita managed to convince him that it was inevitable word would get out. Then he slammed the door to his room and told everyone he needed some time alone.

No one minded giving him that.

As soon as the reporters had seen Nita, they’d begun pestering her for a statement. Jeb had to admire how she handled the situation, keeping her cool and her manners, and maintaining a steady sense of humor. It was clear that the reporters respected her, and even though she kept telling them she’d have something for them shortly, they still peppered her with questions.

Seeing the lines of stress reappear on her face, he longed to whisk her away somewhere private. Somewhere they could be alone, and he could work on that slow lovemaking he’d promised her.

It stunned him how much he wanted her. How much he wanted to be close to her. He didn’t even know her, not really. And yet she’d given him something precious. When she’d let him into her confidence, she’d given him a piece of herself. It created a bond between them that felt very significant. He wanted more—he wanted to talk more, touch more, laugh more.

But his first responsibility was to Brody, and that meant getting Melissa the hell away from this madness. Which meant he’d have to leave the island, and Nita, as soon as possible.

He tapped on Melissa’s door, then entered at her distracted “come in.” She was standing in front of her dresser, her body angled sideways so she could reach her laptop, which was balanced on top of some books. One hand was typing, the other rubbing her lower back.

“Melissa, that doesn’t look comfortable,” he said in alarm.

“It’s fine. I’m almost done.”

“I think we should try to catch the afternoon ferry out.”

“Uh-huh.” With both hands on her keyboard, she clicked furiously.

“How about if I pack your things while you wrap up your story.”

“Uh-huh.”

He was pretty sure she hadn’t heard him, but decided to proceed anyway. Spotting her suitcase in the corner, he dragged it out and set it on the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Packing.” He gave her a brief glance, unsurprised to see her green eyes throwing sparks at him.

“I can’t leave yet. The senator wants to do another interview. If I leave, he’ll wind up talking to one of those other billion reporters out there. I’ll lose my entire exclusive.”

“But if you leave now, you can get back to San Gabriel and get your story on the air first.”

“It won’t work that way. The senator wants to talk. Those reporters out there are just as good as I am. Probably better. And they work for national news organizations. Unless I’m right here under his nose, he’ll decide it makes more sense to talk to one of them. I can’t leave.”

He straightened up and studied her for a long moment. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. The same as before they showed up. Really, Jeb, I appreciate it. I admit I’ve had my hormonal moments, but this isn’t one of them.”

He deliberated. His main concern was her health. If she felt fine, there was no reason to whisk her away. Not that he could, if she didn’t want to go. “Will you promise to tell me if you feel anything unusual? The slightest little twinge or pain or any warning sign whatsoever?”

Her expression softened into a warm smile. “You’re really a good guy, aren’t you?’

He shrugged. “I don’t know about that, but when I tell someone I’m going to do something, I do it. And even if I hadn’t told Brody I’d keep an eye on you, you’re eight months pregnant and I’m an EMT, so I’d be paying attention anyway. I checked around, and the only doctor on this island is seventy-two years old. Your go-to guys are the volunteer firefighters, but from what I’m hearing, there might be some holes in their training. In serious cases, your options are a Medevac or a fire boat that takes an hour to get out here. I’m your guy, Melissa. I hope you’re okay with that.”

“I am,” she said promptly. “Believe me, I don’t want anything to harm the baby. If I was worried, I’d tell you.”

“And if I feel strongly that for the sake of your health, and that of the baby, we should leave? What then?”

“I’ll consider it.”

He pinned her with a narrow stare until she bowed her head.

“I’ll do what you say. Since you’re an EMT. And Brody trusts you. And the most important thing is the baby.”

“Thank you.”

N
ITA WATCHED FROM
the doorway, clutching her cell phone, feeling as if her heart was cracking open. Even though she had Brody on the line waiting to talk to Melissa, she couldn’t bring herself to interrupt their conversation. Jeb wasn’t even with Melissa, and he was more concerned about her baby than Bradford had been about his own. Would things have been different if someone like Jeb had been by her side? She would have still lost the baby, of course, but would she have completely broken down if she’d had someone as steady and caring as Jeb going through it with her?

She shook off that useless train of thought. The past was the past, and Jeb was leaving as soon as he could convince Melissa to go. After a quick knock on the door, she walked in and handed her phone to Melissa.

“It’s Brody. He’s been trying to reach both of you, and he’s going crazy.”

Melissa took the phone and walked a few steps away to speak quietly into it.

Jeb dug his cell from his pocket and frowned at it. “No service.”

“Apparently one of the towers is temporarily down. Angie says it happens sometimes, especially when the storms hit.”

He glanced out the window, where clouds were beginning to skim across the sky. “Doesn’t look too bad out there.”

“Brody said he’s been watching the Weather Channel and a big storm system has changed direction. It’s heading toward us instead of out to sea.”

His forehead creased with worry. “I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all.”

“Well, it’s a couple of days out. And it might peter out before then, or change direction again. I told Brody not to worry too much, but I should have saved my breath.”

He gave a ghost of a smile. “He’s going to worry for the next eighteen years. At least. So, how’s the hungry mob out there?”

“They’re not happy with me. They think I’m stonewalling. One of them tried to disguise himself as a pizza delivery guy. As if I don’t recognize every single one of them.”

“Are they bothering you? You tell me, and I’ll kick their asses. One or all of them.” The intensity in his voice sparked a thrill deep in her belly.

“I can handle them.” It was her job. The one thing so far she hadn’t failed at.

“I know you can. But if you need a little extra muscle, you call on me. Hear?” He looked dangerous, with that scowl emphasizing the severe planes of his face. His hands were stuck in his back pockets, which made his T-shirt strain against the muscles of his chest. Not so long ago, she’d been tracing those very muscles with her tongue.

“I hear.”

She wanted to throw herself at him. Get caught up in his strong arms and let the rest of the world fade to static.

He must have picked up on her mood, because his eyes changed, darkened with knee-melting desire. He lowered his voice until it was nearly inaudible. “What are you doing later?”

She managed a shrug.

“I’ll find you. I’m going to take Charlie up on his invitation, no matter what the fire chief says. I want to scope out the fire department and see just how ill-prepared they are. With Melissa determined to stay, and a storm coming, I want to know what I’m dealing with. I won’t be long.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Yes, you will.” With a scorching look, he strode out the door.

Melissa hung up with Brody and turned to Nita. As soon as she caught sight of Nita’s expression, she broke into a huge smile. “Oh my. You’re smitten.”

“I’m not—oh, crap.”

J
EB SPENT ABOUT
an hour chatting with the Santa Lucia volunteer firefighters. The fire chief, the only actual paid staff member, wasn’t around. Apparently that wasn’t unusual. The guys were young, eager, lively, and sadly disorganized. One problem was that people kept quitting out of frustration, which meant that the crew was always getting used to new members. Half-trained volunteers were training the new recruits, and misinformation was getting amplified. The captain in him longed to take them in hand and apply some proper discipline to the station. But it wasn’t his business, and considering he’d been warned off by the chief himself, unwise.

One thing was for certain. If something happened with Melissa, he wouldn’t trust the San-L fire department to handle the situation. A fire, sure. A car accident, maybe. Brody’s baby—absolutely not.

Charlie offered him a fish burger and a ride back to the Enchanted Garden, which he accepted. The kid’s jaw dropped at the sight of the media circus still camped out on the sidewalk. Persistent, he’d give them that. It was getting dark, but they weren’t budging.

“Should we come up with a crowd control contingency plan?” Charlie asked Brody in awe.

“Couldn’t hurt,” Jeb said. “Nice initiative.”

Beaming, the firefighter drove off while Jeb, hands shoved into his pockets, surveyed the Enchanted Garden.

Light glowed from within the cozy inn, with its corner turret and gingerbread trim. The turret reminded him of the lighthouse, which inspired all kinds of naughty thoughts about Nita Moreno.

And suddenly he wanted her desperately. This situation must be a nightmare for her. Over the past couple of days, he’d seen her relax, seen the bright-eyed woman he remembered from the wedding return. But now her tension was back, no matter how much she claimed the reporters didn’t bother her.

He had some thoughts about how to relieve that tension.

He went through the side entrance, locking it behind him in case any overly dedicated reporters tried to follow him. The door let onto the kitchen, where the lights were out and everything was in place. The copper frying pans gleamed in the glow of the pilot light. The refrigerator hummed. It really was a lovely, comforting spot, despite the ruffle overload. He cocked his head, listening for other signs of life. Maybe the senator and Melissa were still working. Maybe he could get Nita alone and ravage her senseless.

That pleasant vision shimmered to life as Nita walked in, carrying an armful of teacups. Her hair was loose, the dark waves tumbling over her shoulders. Over the sundress—which was burned into his brain—she wore a fuzzy white sweater. She started at the sight of him, and the teacups rattled. With a quick movement, he rescued one and stabilized the others. When the cups were safely stowed on the counter, he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him.

Yep, sure enough, that anxious look was back. Apparently his mighty cock hadn’t chased it away for good.

Yet.

Smiling at his own idiocy, he smoothed his hands down her arms, until he held her hands. “How are you doing?” He asked her softly.

“Oh, fabulous. The senator’s blaming me for the media circus. He’s threatening to take it out on Melissa by scrapping her exclusive. The fire chief is threatening to fine me for clogging the sidewalk. Angie’s channeling Bette Davis and ordering me around like a scullery maid. And Melissa keeps snapping at me. Maybe she blames me too.”

“Aw, honey.” The word slipped from his lips before he even thought about it. It felt completely natural, but it made Nita’s eyes widen.

“And . . .” she gave a goofy smile. “I missed you.”

“I’ve only been gone a couple of hours.”

“I know.”

That was it. With provocation like that, who could blame him for what he did next? He bent down, scooped her into his arms, and strode into the hallway. She felt wonderful against him, warm and silky, her hair sliding across his arm. “I figured something out while I was standing out in the dark, scoping out this joint.”

“What?” She sounded breathless, but he liked the way she clung to his neck.

“You got the tower room, didn’t you? Like a princess waiting for her prince.”

“Not true! I mean, yes, Angie put me in the tower room. She can’t handle the stairs anymore. But the rest of it is ridiculous.”

“Are you so sure?”

Taking the stairs two at a time, still holding her in his arms, he climbed to the top floor. By the time he reached the landing outside the tower room door, he was panting. “Maybe you need a prince who’s in better shape,” he gasped, setting her down.