Home Fires (26 page)

“This is nice.” She smiled her thanks as he offered her a chair.

“The city council voted to have it redone last year. The chief’s wife was in charge of the redecorating.”

So that explained the feminine touches all throughout the living quarters.

“Don’t tell me the chief’s wife is in charge of floral arrangements, too?” Rose eyed the fragrant bouquet of fresh flowers sitting in the center of the round oak table. Snapdragons, gerberas, daisies. The colorful assortment transplanted the summer fields right onto the kitchen table.

“Nope, I did that on my own.” Mike headed for the stove. “They’re for you.”

“You bought me flowers?” Her gaze lingered on his unexpected gift. When was the last time a man had given her flowers?

“I felt bad about the other day,” he said from his station in front of the simmering pot. “I’m sorry you found out about everything the way you did.”

Rose inhaled the summer blossoms, relishing the rich scent. Not only did he have beautiful manners, he was a true romantic. She looked up with a soft smile and shyly caught his gaze. “Thank you for the flowers. That was really sweet.”

He shrugged in reply and turned back to the stove, but not quick enough. Rose caught the pleased smile on his face.

“You look cute standing there in front of the stove,” she said. “All you need is an apron.”

“I’ve got one around here somewhere,” he replied. “One of the guys must have swiped it.”

She giggled softly. Only a man utterly sure of himself could pull off wearing an apron with ease. She had no doubt Mike could handle an apron—even one with a flounce.

“I made a salad, too. Do you like garlic bread?” Opening the refrigerator, he pulled out a plastic-wrapped bowl filled with lettuce, tomatoes and crispy vegetables.

“That depends.” A sudden rush of memory brought back the earlier delight of delicious, stolen kisses shared in front of a fire truck.

“Depends on what?”

“If
you
like garlic bread.”

He frowned for a second, then a sudden smile lifted a corner of his mouth. He broke off two pieces of the piping hot bread. Mike’s eyes gleamed with a challenge as he offered her one of the pieces.

“Come and get it.”

Rose felt the hot flush rise in her cheeks as she joined him in front of the stove. She took the bread from his hand and sampled a tiny bite, never breaking her gaze.

“It’s good,” she said after a moment and nibbled another bite. They stood close together, shoulders touching. Her bare leg grazed his.

“Not too much garlic?” His voice was low.

“I
like
garlic.” The bread was spicy, piping hot, and the zesty flavor gave her a sudden zing of courage. Up she went on tiptoe and kissed him.

Their bodies melted like butter as they pressed together, tasting the sweet pleasure of being in each other’s arms.

“I like the way you cook,” Rose murmured after a moment.

“And I like having you in my kitchen.” His breath was soft and warm against her ears and he pulled her even closer, nuzzling her neck with delicious little kisses. He wanted her, just as much as she wanted him. Her insides ached, heavy with desire. She reached out and fingered the dark blond hairs peeping over the top of his shirt. She shivered as her fingers touched bare skin.

“You smell so sweet.” His voice was smooth against her ear.

Rose inhaled sharply as she felt his fingers fumble with the buttons on her blouse. Big mistake, wearing this blouse. The tiny pearl buttons were a pain.

“Want some help?” She touched her hand to his.

He managed fine alone. She arched her back and sighed as his fingers cupped her breast.

“Hey, Mike. You around, buddy?”

The loud slam of a nearby door and quick heavy footsteps in the hallway forced them apart. Rose straightened her blouse as the kitchen filled with three young men. They were barely out of their teens and all of them sported matching yellow t-shirts with the fire department logo.

“Hey, guys.” Mike gave them an abrupt nod.

Five seconds was all it took for them to take in the flowers, the simmering spaghetti and the perturbed look on Mike’s face. Rose swallowed down a smile as they stammered and backed up through the doorway.

“Man, we’re sorry. We didn’t know you had company.”

“Sorry, ma’am.”

“No harm done, fellas. But as you can see, I’m a little busy. Why don’t you come back another time?”

“Sure, Mike. Sorry again.”

“Have a nice evening. See ya.”

Rose wiggled her fingers in farewell as the three boys made a quick exit.

“Sorry about that,” Mike said. A scarlet flush stained his cheeks as he headed back to the stove.

“Who were those boys?” She took her seat and bit her lip, trying to keep from laughing out loud. The last thing the poor guy needed was grief from her.

“Some new volunteers on the department. They show up almost every night.”

“And do what?”

He shrugged. “You know how guys are. They like to hang around the fire station and see what’s going on.”

“I’m sure they got an eyeful tonight.”

Mike didn’t say a word. He laid out the silverware beside their plates in precise military fashion. The salad came next, followed by the crusty loaf of garlic bread, the spaghetti and sauce. Silently he took a seat and stared at her across the table.

“Mike, what’s wrong? Are you upset that those boys stopped by?” The question had been burning inside her since the door slammed shut on their unexpected guests.

“It’s not that.” He let out a winded sigh. “Sorry, it’s been a long day. No, guess you could say a long week.”

He looked so tired. Probably he wasn’t getting enough sleep. She wouldn’t be surprised, with everything he’d been asked to do. Stepping in for the chief, heading up the arson investigation, dealing with newspaper reporters. She reached out and touched his forearm, her fingers lingering on the warm tanned skin.

“I’m sorry about everything that’s been happening lately. Especially that piece Charles printed in the
Journal
.”

“It’s not your fault.” He picked up his fork and swirled it through the pasta on his plate. “You didn’t write it.”

“Still, he had no right to say the things he did.” Rose eyed Mike carefully as she struggled to find the right words. There was no easy way to put it. “You realize what Charles is trying to do, don’t you?”

“What’s that?”

“Force your hand—or force you out.”

Charles had the power of the newspaper behind him. Obviously he wouldn’t hesitate to use it. Rose felt her discomfort rising as she watched Mike watching her. He seemed strangely unmoved by what she’d said.

“You can’t just ignore it, you know,” she added. “Everyone is talking about that editorial.”

“Yep, I know. The guys at the coffee shop were kidding me about it today.”

Her face flushed. How could he sit there so calm and cool with all the talk going on around town? “I hope you gave them an earful,” she replied.

He shrugged. “Charles Kendall is a blowhard and I don’t care what he prints. It won’t stop me from doing my job.”

“Don’t forget this is a small town. If the
Journal
keeps running articles like that, people might start believing what they read is true.”

Mike’s eyes narrowed as he put down his fork. “That must put you in an awkward position.”

“What do you mean?” She shifted in her chair.

“He’s a local, right, just like you. Plus, he’s a friend of yours. Maybe he’s looking for you to take some kind of a public position on all this.”

“This isn’t about me,” she replied. “Charles has made some serious allegations. Why aren’t you defending yourself?”

“It’s pretty obvious which one of us is the lawyer,” he said with a grim smile. “Fighting is in your nature, but it’s not in mine. My job investigating these arsons isn’t to defend myself, it’s to search out the evidence. When I have enough, I hand the results over to people like you.”

She stared at him. “You mean to tell me you’re just going to sit there and do nothing?”

Mike shrugged and speared some salad with his fork.

“Are you crazy? You can’t allow Charles to keep on printing that trash about how incompetent he thinks you are.”

She waited three, five, ten seconds, but the passive look on Mike’s face never wavered. Rose felt like stomping her foot, not that it would do any good. Why did he have to be so infuriating?

He blew out a sigh. “Look, Rosie, I told you before: arson is a difficult crime to prove. Evidence often burns in the fire.”

“Surely you must have collected
some
kind of evidence by now?”

His eyes were guarded. “Not enough to make an arrest. We’re still investigating.”

Rose sat back hard in her chair and eyed him with frustration. “But don’t you see? That’s
exactly
what Charles has been telling everyone: that you’ve totally mismanaged the investigation by not trying hard enough.”

Mike’s jaw clenched as he stared at her. “Is that what you think?”

She tried not to flinch under his steady gaze. “It doesn’t matter what I think,” she replied. “But surely you’ve narrowed down the range of suspects by now.”

“As far as I’m concerned, everyone is a suspect until an arrest is made.”

Mike was wrong. Not everyone was a suspect. “I hope you’ve already dropped your investigation of the Judge.”

“I’m not ruling anyone out… including him.”

“You can’t be serious.” This conversation was getting them nowhere. She’d made her position clear about the Judge’s character. “You know he’s not the one setting those fires. Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

“Why are you trying to tell me what to do?” he shot back. “You’re a very bossy woman, you know that?”

Bossy? She sat back hard in her chair. Her cheeks stung as if she’d just been slapped. What gave him the right to call her bossy?

“Lawyers! What makes you think you have the right to interfere in official government business?” Mike glared at her across the table. “Did it ever occur to you that I might actually know what I’m doing? I am not a total idiot.”

“I never said you were,” she replied in a tight voice. Stupid and bullheaded, that’s what Mike was. Investigating the Judge would only prove a useless exercise and waste valuable time in finding the real arsonist. In Rose-world, time was a precious commodity and not to be squandered or your billing timesheets would stack up empty.

“Anybody home?” A familiar voice filtered in from the next room. “Hey, Mike? You around?”

Mike threw down his fork and glared at the door. “Who’s here now?”

Tommy Gilbert shuffled through the kitchen doorway. His eyes lit up in recognition. “Hey, Cecil! What you doing here?”

“Someone invited me to dinner.” She glanced at Mike and saw the irritated frown tugging at one corner of his mouth. Obviously he wasn’t pleased by this most recent surprise visitor, but Tommy’s timing couldn’t be more perfect. Officer Gallagher thought she was bossy? Fine. Let this fireman smolder about that for a while.

“Smells great. Hey, spaghetti? That’s my favorite.” Tommy yanked a chair from the table and took a seat. His gaze bobbed happily back and forth between the two of them.

Mike’s sigh was barely noticeable. “You want a plate?”

“That would be great.” Tommy’s face shone with hungry delight. “Hey, Cecil, did he tell you the big news?”

News? She turned to Mike, only to find his gaze on her. Was that regret she saw written on his face? Maybe he was wishing he’d kept his comments to himself. As well he should have. Where did he get off, pointing a finger at her when she had only been trying to help?

Rose tossed her curls and turned her attention to Tommy. “What news?”

“I’m going to be a fireman.” Tommy’s voice pitched in a crow of delight as Mike passed him a plate of steaming pasta.

“You passed the test?” Her eyes widened. Tommy had been searching all summer for a new job but Mike had never breathed a word about recruiting him for a full-time position. She shot Mike a questioning glance.

“It’s not official yet,” Tommy said. “I’ve got to take some classes before I can actually work a fire. But I’m a quick learner. I’ll pass, no problem. Watch and see.”

“Tommy’s joining our volunteer force,” Mike said quietly.

“That’s the same as a regular fireman, right? You said being a volunteer was an important job.”

Mike pushed away his plate and leaned back in his chair. “We wouldn’t have a department without volunteers.”

“Volunteers go through the same training,” Tommy said. “You go to classes and you get your own gear and helmet.” He cast a keen glance at Mike. “What about my helmet? Will it be white, like yours?”

“Yours will be blue. That stands for probationary. Only the chief wears a white helmet.”

“So how come your helmet is white? You’re not the chief,” Tommy said.

“No, but I’m the assistant chief.”

A furious shrill beeping exploded through the room. Mike bolted from his chair and grabbed the monitor from its cradle on the kitchen counter as loud electronic static flooded the room.

“Hey, what…”

“Shhh!” Rose cut Tommy off as Mike listened with quiet intensity to the 911 page.

“Central Dispatch calling James Bay Fire Department. You have a report of a structure fire at 0135 Lakeshore Drive. Repeat, you have a structure fire at 0135 Lakeshore Drive, the Waller Boat Company. Reporting party indicates seeing flames through the roof. Central clear, first call, 19:45.”

Mike’s face hardened. “I’ve got to go. This sounds bad. I doubt I’ll be back any time soon. You should probably go home.”

“Hey, wait for me!” Tommy was already on his feet. Fruit and papers went flying off the counter as he made a grab for his baseball cap. “I’ll go with you. I’ll help fight the fire. Can I ride in the truck?”

“No. You’re not a member of the department yet.” Mike’s gaze flashed to Rose and lingered briefly. “Sorry about this.”

Frustration over their earlier heated discussion dissolved at the sight of Mike’s troubled eyes. He was headed out to another fire. Rose waved him on. “Don’t worry about it.”

Mike slammed out the door as the station’s rooftop fire whistle began to wail.