Into The Flames (Firehouse Fourteen Book 4) (22 page)

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Dale didn't bother to look at Lauren as they pushed through the door. He paused, frowning as his eyes skimmed the crowded room. "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Maybe because she asked you not to come."

"Only because she was nervous. I think she's afraid the auction will be a bust."

"Uh, you wouldn't know it by looking at this crowd. Wow. Holy crap." Lauren pushed closer, caught between him and Kenny as someone jostled them from behind. Kenny grunted and placed his hand in the middle of Lauren's back as he moved behind her, protecting her. Dale would have smiled his approval if he wasn't so busy looking for Smurfette. She was probably near the back wall. Of course that's where she would be. That's where her paintings were. At least, where they were yesterday.

Lauren was right, though. The gallery was crowded. More crowded than he had expected. Not that he'd ever been to an art auction before. Hell, before yesterday, he'd never really been to a private gallery before. He didn't know what to expect, but this crowd hadn't been it.

There had to be more than seventy people mingling around them, making the large room feel oddly small. Hell, it was crowded enough that it probably exceeded what the maximum occupancy allowed. Well, maybe not. They weren't exactly crammed in elbow-to-elbow. There was still room to move, room to breathe. Mostly. 

"Kenny, you're taller than me. Do you see her?"

"Taller? Yeah, by what, an inch?" Kenny rolled his eyes then raised up on his toes, looking around. "She's over by the back wall talking to another lady."

"Does it look like they started yet?"

"Do you see anyone bidding?"

"Kenny, stop." Lauren laughed and placed a hand on Kenny's arm. "Can't you see he's nervous? Look at him. He's worried because he just realized he's in love."

"Yes, I know." Kenny leaned over to kiss Lauren, the kiss a little too long, a little too deep. Dale stepped closer and cleared his throat, half-tempted to pull Kenny away from his sister. But Kenny stopped on his own, his eyes dancing with laughter when he looked at Dale. "I'm just getting him back for what he did all those months ago."

Lauren laughed then looked away when Dale scowled. So maybe he had been wrong to tell Kenny how his sister felt about him. He couldn't do anything about it now. Besides, if he hadn't told Kenny that Lauren loved him, the two of them would probably still be dancing around each other, neither one of them taking the first step to let the other know how they felt.

That didn't mean he appreciated being teased about what he was going through now, though.

He moved deeper into the room, angling across and toward the front so he could see better. Yes, there she was, standing to the side, talking to Anna. And her parents were there as well. Good, she had moral support with her. She still looked nervous, her face a little too pale in the overhead lighting. Her hands twisted in front of her the way they always did when she was worried or upset about something.

"Why'd you stop? Aren't you going up there?"

"No, not yet."

Lauren gaped at him, surprise and impatience flaring in her eyes. "Why not? I thought you wanted to get here early enough to surprise her. You know, to support her?"

"No. I mean yes. I know. But not yet."

"Dale, how are you going to show her support if she doesn't even know you're here?"

"I'm going to show my support by buying that painting right there." He pointed to the one on the far left. What were they calling it now?
Into The Flames
. He didn't care what they called it. He inspired it, and now he was going to buy it.

"You're going to bid on a painting?" Lauren looked at him as if he had just lost his mind. He nodded, then reached for a glass from the passing waiter's tray.

"Yes. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. I just never figured you'd actually buy real art, that's all."

"It's Smurfette's. Why wouldn't I?"

"Um, Dale. Have you ever been to one of these things before?"

He looked over at Kenny and shook his head. "No, why?"

"Ever been to a gallery like this before? No, don't look at me like that, I'm not insulting you. I'm just wondering how much you think art work like this goes for." Kenny looked around the room, nodding at the different pieces on display around them. "Some of the prices are pretty steep."

That made him hesitate. Steep? How steep? No, Kenny must be exaggerating. Or his definition of
steep
was a bit different. He was a cautious spender, saving and investing, never buying anything he didn't really need, never spending more than he had to. Lauren said it was because he still couldn't believe the Banners were keeping him, that he wasn't going to have to play in the minor leagues anymore.

Dale just liked to tease him and call him cheap.

"Doesn't matter. I inspired Smurfette to paint it, so I'm buying it. That's all there is to it." Dale took a long swallow of the champagne and looked around again. Everyone seemed to be shifting toward the back wall. Sure enough, Anna had stepped closer to the crowd, a bright smile on her face as she started speaking. Her voice was clear, projecting over the entire room, commanding everyone's attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for coming tonight. I know many of you have been waiting for this opportunity for a long time. Well, your wait is over." There was a slight spattering of applause, a few chuckles. Anna turned to the side, her arm outstretched, motioning for Smurfette to come forward.

Dale's heart thudded, with excitement, with some of the same nervousness Smurfette obviously felt. She smiled, her lips trembling just the slightest bit as her gaze swept across the crowd. Dale ducked his head and stepped behind the gentleman in front of him. He didn't want her to see him, not just yet. He didn't want to spoil the surprise.

"I've had the tremendous honor of showcasing Melanie's work for the last few years. The honor of watching her work take on a life of its own. And like many of you, I knew it was only a matter of time before her wonderful renditions became more than collector items we treasured so dearly. So much more."

Dale shifted, the first wave of discomfort washing over him as he looked around. Many in the crowd were smiling and nodding, as if they knew exactly what Anna was talking about. As if they, too, had been waiting for…whatever was about to happen.

Lauren eased closer, her voice a low whisper. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Now be quiet."

"Ladies and gentlemen, you've all had a chance to view the two selections for this evening. Now it is time to start the bidding. We'll begin with
Into The Flames
."

Dale glanced at Lauren and Kenny, a grin on his face as Anna described the painting. Smurfette was going to be so surprised when he bought it. He drank the last of the champagne then passed the empty glass to Lauren. He wanted both hands free, he needed to concentrate. He didn't want to get distracted and let someone outbid him by mistake.

"Dale, I don't think—"

He shook his head, trying not to let Lauren distract him. What had Anna said? He missed it. Probably just something else about the painting, that was all. It didn't matter because she had paused, coming closer to the crowd, her smile all business now.

"Who will start the bidding—"

Dale grinned and stepped forward, ready to raise his hand. Smurfette would be so surprised.

"—at eight?"

"Eight."

"Eight five."

"Nine."

"Nine five."

"Ten!"

Dale stood frozen as people around him called out bids. What the hell? It was like a frenzy, people shouting, the number getting higher and higher. He still hadn't had a chance to raise his hand, numbers ringing in his ear. Fifteen. It was up to fifteen now. Fifteen hundred dollars? He looked around and started to raise his hand, but Kenny and Lauren were suddenly beside him, holding his arms down.

"Dale, don't."

"It's thousands, not hundreds." Lauren hissed the words in his ear but it took him a second to understand.

Not hundred. Thousands.

As in dollars.

Someone else called out, their bid immediately topped by someone else. Nineteen. Twenty.

Holy shit. Twenty thousand dollars.

He felt weak, like his knees were going to collapse. The number kept climbing, a little slower now but still climbing.

Twenty-five thousand dollars.

Holy fucking shit.

He tried to straighten, struggled to focus his eyes and search out Smurfette. There she was, next to Anna, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly parted. Her expression was pure bewilderment, shocked and pleased and slightly anxious at the same time.

He must have been staring too hard, or maybe the crowd shifted and she just happened to be looking in the right direction at the right time. It didn't matter because their gazes suddenly locked. He tried to smile, tried to move, but he couldn't. He was held in place by the look in her eyes, soft and wide and bright. And by the bright smile that grew wider with each second as she watched him.

Applause broke out around them, mingled with a few good-natured groans as the bidding came to an end. Dale didn't hear the final number, was almost afraid to know. An older gentleman with thinning sandy blonde hair, dressed in a suit that didn’t quite fit, stepped out of the crowd to join Anna and Smurfette as someone else took the painting from the wall.

Disappointment pulsed through him. His painting, gone.

No, not his. And the painting didn't matter. What mattered was Melanie. Smurfette. No painting could compare to her. Now he just needed to tell her that.

He pushed his way through the crowd, not caring that he left Lauren and Kenny behind, not caring that maybe he was just a little too forceful as he moved forward.

And then he was there, standing in front of her, the words a mangled mess in his mouth. She looked up at him, that soft smile on her face, happiness and joy dancing in her eyes.

Tell her. Just tell her. Three words, that was all he had to say.

He reached for her hand, stepped a little closer when someone jostled him. Took a deep breath and looked into her eyes, felt himself drowning in the ocean blue of her expectant gaze.

Just tell her!

He opened his mouth but then it was too late, she was being pulled away, back toward the crowd as Anna announced the bidding for the second painting would be starting soon.

No. Not yet. Didn't they know he had something to say? He stepped forward but felt something close around his arm, pull him back. Dale almost yanked his arm away, ready to swing out in frustration—until he saw Melanie's father standing next to him, an understanding grin on his face.

"Sometimes, son, it pays to be a little quicker."

Melanie's face was numb from smiling. Even her mind was numb, not quite able to grasp how well her paintings had done. Anna had tried telling her. So did her mother. But she didn't believe it, wouldn't let herself believe it.

The night had proved them both correct but she was still having trouble believing it. She'd wake up in the morning and this would all be a dream. A glorious, wonderful, spectacularly perfect dream.

Well, not quite perfect.

She thanked Mr. Leiken again for buying her painting and shook his hand for what seemed like the hundredth time. He truly was a nice man, even if his breath did smell like onions left in the sun too long. Who was she to judge, after he'd spent all that money?

And finally he was gone, as well as all the other patrons. Everyone except Anna, her parents—

And Dale.

She took a deep breath, her first real breath of the entire crazy wonderful night, then turned to face him. He was sitting in one of the small cozy chairs of the small seating area to her left, saying something to his sister and her boyfriend. He looked over at her and smiled, drawing her own wide smile in return.

He had shown up. He had really shown up! She still couldn't believe it.

Her smile grew wider as she walked over to him, as he reached out for her hand. Instead of just giving it a reassuring squeeze and letting go, like she had expected, he tugged and pulled her onto his lap. She stiffened in surprise then relaxed against him. His arms came around her waist, holding her close, the broad expanse of his chest warm and solid against her.

Kenny and Lauren congratulated her on the show, said something else that she didn't pay attention to, that she barely heard. How could she, when all her attention was on Dale? On the gentle look in those deep warm eyes? On the way the gold flecks danced in their depths? On the warm tenderness of his mouth as he nuzzled her ear?

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich, resonating throughout her limp body, warming her with a tiny thrill. He pressed another kiss just below her ear, his voice soft when he spoke.

"They said goodnight."

"Hm? Oh. Goodnight."

"They're gone now."

She opened her eyes and looked around, then turned back to see Dale smiling. He kissed her again, a quick one at the corner of her mouth, then leaned back.

"You're famous."

"Who, me? No I'm not."

"I think you are."

A blush heated her cheeks and she almost looked away, wanted to look away, but his eyes held her in place. Captivating, mesmerizing. Full of her deepest dreams and wishes. Or was she only imagining that?

"Thank you for coming. It meant a lot."

"I wanted to be here."

"Why? Especially after I asked you not to?"

"Because I did. I wanted to surprise you."

"You did. Thank you." She leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss. Too quick, too fast. He pulled back, a frown on his face, shadows filling his eyes for a brief second in time.

"Not as much as I wanted to."

"Wanted to what?"

"Surprise you."

Melanie tilted her head, studying him. Why did he look disappointed? "I don't understand."

He pursed his lips and for a second, she didn't think he'd explain. Then he blew out a quick breath and shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes. "I was going to bid on the one painting."

"You were? Which one?"

"The, uh, the first one."

Warmth spread throughout her, tingling low in her belly and shooting out to her limbs. "Dale! That's so sweet!"

"Yeah, not really. I didn't even manage to get one bid in. Like I said, you're famous."

He was disappointed! He was trying not to show it, but she knew anyway. She could see it floating around him like some misty cloak, could feel it in the way his fingers touched her arm, just a little too stiff. She smiled and leaned forward, capturing his mouth with hers, kissing him. Sweet, warm. She pulled away, her heart racing, and smiled again.

"Thank you. That means so much." She rested her head against his shoulder and sighed, her body relaxing, molding to his. Almost like they were one. "But I don't understand. Why did you want it?"

He shrugged, the soft material of his dress shirt sliding under her cheek. "I don't know. Uh, sentimental, I guess."

"Sentimental?"

"Yeah. Because, you know, uh—" He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "You, uh, said I inspired it. That's all. Stupid, huh?"

She raised her head and gave him her most ferocious scowl—which wasn't very ferocious at all if the grin on his face meant anything. "It most certainly is not stupid. How can you even say such a thing?"

His grin widened. "Sorry."

She hopped off his lap and grabbed his hand, pulling him from the chair. He tugged back, not quite following her as easily as she thought he would. She placed her free hand on her hip and frowned. "I want to show you something."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." She tugged again and this time he followed her, his hand wrapped around hers. She led him to the far wall then released his hand and pointed. Leaning against the wall was a third painting, tucked back in the corner where nobody could see it. That didn't mean people didn't. Some had. And some had even offered to buy it, promising sums of money that left her blinking in astonishment. But it wasn't for sale.

At least, not unless the perfect buyer came along with the right price.

"What's that?"

"It's a painting, silly. Anna wanted to include this one in the auction tonight as well but I wouldn't let her. I pulled it at the last minute." She hadn't understood why at first, only knew, for some reason, that it wasn't meant to be sold. Intuition? Instinct? Or something even stronger?

She picked the painting up and held it out for Dale. "What do you see?"

His eyes locked with hers for several heartbeats, the curiosity and unasked questions clear in his gaze. The muscles in his strong throat worked as he swallowed. She felt his mood shift to something more serious as he dropped his gaze to the painting and looked.

Really looked.

Melanie held her breath, wondering what he would see in the smooth strokes and fluid lines. In the rough textures that faded to perfection. In the slashes of rusts and gingers and lapis and corals that should have clashed but somehow came together in a symphony of emotional depth.

"I see—" Dale cleared his throat, his eyes darting to hers for a brief second before focusing on the painting once more. "I see frenzy. Uncertainty. Excitement and fear. Hope and resolution."

"Anything else?" Her voice was barely a whisper but he still heard her. Did he see it? Could he tell? She didn't know, couldn't be sure.

He stepped closer, his eyes searching hers. "I think so, yes."

Sweets! How could she be certain he saw it? What should she say? She didn't know, was so awful at this kind of thing. New and exciting and frightful and energizing all at the same time. She chewed on her lower lip, thinking, wondering, arguing with herself. Then she blew out a quick breath, the sound soft and sharp. But she didn't look at him. She couldn't.

"You inspired this one, too."

"Yeah?"

She looked up, surprised to see him standing so close. His gaze locked on hers, holding it, refusing to let her look away. "Y-yes. And…and it's for sale. For, uh, for the right price."

No! No, those were the wrong words. They sounded…well, too wrong. Like she was selling something different. Sweets, why was this so hard? "I mean—"

"What price?"

Her hands tightened around the edges of the canvas, the wooden frame cutting into her palms. "I…I could only sell it to someone who sees everything in it."

"You said I inspired it. What about you?"

"I don't understand."

"Did a part of you inspire this one as well? Is there a part of you in here?"

"There's always a part of me in every painting I do."

"That's not what I'm asking, Smurfette." His voice was low, a little rough and uncertain. No, she knew what he was asking, knew it so clearly. And she could see the need for the answer in his eyes, overwhelming, leaving her breathless as he watched. Waited.

She nodded, her mouth too dry. She ran her tongue along her lips and tried to clear her throat, nodding again. "Y-yes. Yes, there's a part of me in this one. A very large part."

He nodded and stepped back, his eyes lowering to the canvas one more time. Then he closed the distance between them, each movement lightning fast and certain as he eased the painting from her hands. She had no idea what he was going to do with it, didn't care. Not when he was looking at her like that, his gaze direct and intense. And hot, so very hot.

"Love. I see love."

His hands cupped her cheeks and tilted her head back as his mouth closed over hers. Warm, hot, giving and taking. Seeking reassurance even as it gave the same. She sighed, losing herself in his touch, in his kiss.

No, not losing. Finding. Finding herself

Dale pulled away then reached down for her hand, dragging it up and resting it on his chest. Over his heart. The steady
thump thump
beat against the palm of her hand, its rhythm echoing her own racing pulse. His gaze captured hers, holding it with a gentle ferocity and determination.

"I love you, Smurfette. It might be too soon and it might not make any sense but it's right. I'm as sure of that as I am of my need to breathe. And I need you even more than I need breath."

Melanie gasped, her eyes filling with tears at the soft words. At the emotion, thick and heavy, that laced each one. Colors swirled around them, glittery and pearlescent, red and orange and pink and blue, broken with the flare of diamonds and the gentle fire of opals. She leaned up on her toes and brushed her mouth against his.

"I love you, Dale. All of you. Light and dark, your flame and fire and vibrancy. I love you."

He grinned, a heart-stopping grin that filled her with warmth and need. Then he pulled her more tightly against him, his mouth on hers. Breathing life into her. And hope. And love.

On the other side of the room, standing far enough away so as not to intrude, Michelle Reeves smiled up at her husband then placed her own hand over his heart. "Oh Michael, how beautiful. I think he may be almost as wonderfully romantic as you."

Michael Reeves pressed a kiss against his wife's forehead and pulled her close. "It takes a special woman to teach a man how to love, dear. And Melanie is, after all, her mother's daughter."