Tall, Strong & Cool Under Fire
Tall, Strong & Cool Under Fire
Marie Ferrarella
When Lisa Billings swept into Bryce Walker's fire station looking for her missing daughter, he was smitten with the enticing single mother. The handsome firefighter had long ago realized that white picket fences and parent-teacher meetings weren't meant for a man who risked his life on a daily basis.But Lisa and her little girl made him yearn for the dreams he'd put aside….Bryce was six feet of temptation-in-a-uniform, but Lisa cautioned herself to watch her step. Yet her heart and her soul-and her body-didn't heed her warnings…not when tall, strong and sexy Bryce made her feel like a woman again!
“I’d like to keep seeing you,” Bryce said.
Lisa felt her heart hitch. Damn, why did Bryce have to be so direct, so honest? She preferred the word games to facing something right now. Trying her best to remain aloof, she asked, “To what end?”
The question seemed to amuse him. “Mutual enjoyment. From what I gather, you’re not exactly in the market for marriage, either. And I did enjoy that kiss in your kitchen. So what do you say?”
Moving back her chair, Lisa tossed her napkin onto her plate. “For now, I say that I have to get back to the shop.”
“And later?” he pressed.
“Will be later.” Her tone was noncommittal. The response didn’t feel right to her, and she added, “We’ll see.”
“Nothing I like better than a challenge,” Bryce responded.
Lisa bit her lip and remained silent. That was exactly what she was afraid of.
Tall, Strong & Cool Under Fire
Marie Ferrarella
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To all the firefighters in my city, for taking such good care of all of us and making us safe every year.
Thank you.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter One
“Are you a fireman?”
The high, exuberant voice caught him by surprise, lifting him out of his realm of preoccupation. Turning away from the newly washed fire truck he was facing, Bryce Walker saw her. All three foot one of her. Completely adorable and most assuredly completely out of place.
The glib response on his lips, reserved for ladies far older than this little blond visitor obviously was, died away unspoken. Instead he smiled at her.
The little girl, decked out in soft pink coveralls with white daisies scattered throughout the body of the fabric, stood on the threshold of the fire station, obviously accepting the silent invitation the wide-open doorway extended to wayward travelers. She rocked slightly forward on the balls of her feet, her small hands shoved into her pockets like someone intent on doing nothing more with her morning than shooting the breeze. Her eyes watched him expectantly, waiting for an answer.
“Why yes, I am.”
Amused, Bryce crossed to her and then got down on one knee in an attempt to lessen the huge difference in their heights. He glanced to either side of the little girl, expecting to see a parent or at least an older sibling hanging back somewhere in the near vicinity.
But there was no one close by, not even any stragglers coming out of the library located directly to the right of the fire station, or eagerly flowing out of the summer school classes being given at the high school located in the center of the long block.
His visitor was apparently alone and very obviously fearless.
On occasion, Bryce gave talks on fire safety at the various local elementary schools located in Bedford, California. The little girl before him looked too young to be attending school. Bryce guessed her to be around four, or perhaps a very small five, though he doubted it. Intelligence shone in her cornflower-blue eyes, opened as wide as the daisies she had on her rompers.
The way she was regarding him told Bryce she thought of him as her equal in every way but height and opportunity. Her eyes darted past him to the truck that was just behind. “Do they let you drive the truck?”
He heard the hopeful note in her voice mingled with a touch of hero worship. The appeal of fire trucks had long since crossed the gender line. Bryce bit back a laugh, thinking of Alex. With three years seniority, the firefighter acted as if the truck was his own private property and would sooner walk over hot coals than allow someone else to touch the steering wheel.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
The little girl nodded her head in a commiserating manner that seemed far older than her obvious tender years. “Mommy won’t let me drive, either.”
It seemed to Bryce the perfect opportunity to initiate a reunion between the wayward child and her mother. “And where is Mommy?”
Leaving him in her wake, the little girl made her way to the fire truck in small, cautious steps, as if the truck wasn’t simply metal and gears, but a living, breathing thing that could be frightened into running off at any second if she wasn’t careful.
“At home.”
Bryce had a feeling that his unannounced visitor was going to be a fetching challenge when she got a little older. He wished any man who lost his heart to her luck. They were going to need it.
Getting up, he followed her slow progress around the vehicle. “And where’s home?”
Pausing, she looked over her shoulder, her expression momentarily sad, as if she was mourning something that had been lost. “Not Dallas anymore.”
He’d thought he’d detected a slight twang to her voice. But knowing her origins didn’t exactly help him at the moment. “And why’s that?”
The sigh she released was enormous. Slowly she made her way around the perimeter of the truck, studying every detail more closely than the fire chief during an impromptu inspection. “We moved.”
She was too young to be coy, though that would have been the word he would have used had she been a teenager. Bryce began to feel as if he was trapped in a children’s program. “To where?”
The little girl ran her hand along the front of the truck and he got the distinct impression she was petting it. “Here.”
Playing along, Bryce looked around, pretending to be mystified at the information. “You live here? In my fire station?”
He was rewarded with a giggle that was so infectious, he had a hard time not laughing along with her. She turned to look at him, her eyes crinkled with humor. “No, silly. In Bedford.”
He’d assumed as much, but it was nice to receive confirmation. At least she wasn’t visiting from out of town. It looked as if he just might finally be getting somewhere. “Do you know where in Bedford?”
She paused, considering his question. “Our house, of course,” she told him as if it were silly to think that there could be any other answer. “Mommy’s and G-mama’s and mine. Mommy said it belongs to all three of us. Equally.” She wrapped her tongue around the last word very slowly, as if careful to get it right.
Bryce noticed she didn’t mention a father and wondered if that meant that Missing Mommy was divorced, or possibly widowed. Or if she’d never been married in the first place. He doubted if the omission was an oversight. The little girl seemed to have an almost incredible grasp of her situation. He knew adults who were less aware of their surroundings than she appeared to be.
Following her as she made her way back to the side of the truck, he tried again. “Do you know your address?”
This time, the expression that met his question was a pint-size composition of frustration. The little girl shook her head. “No. It’s new.”
She seemed so upset that she couldn’t remember it, Bryce felt it best to gloss over the detail. No sense dwelling on it. If Mommy didn’t show up soon to claim her, he had friends on the police force who could help track her down.
“Sometimes,” he commented, “new things are hard to remember.” Holding her hand, he helped her up the steps of the fire truck so that she could get a closer look inside the cab. “Do you know your name?”
She looked at him with just a touch of impatience bringing her small, wheat-colored brows together in a puckered furrow. “Of course I do. My name’s not new. It’s as old as I am.”
“I see.” He pretended to nod his agreement. “My name is Bryce Walker. What is your name?”
She tossed her head, sending soft swirls of blond hair bouncing back and forth. “CeCe Billings. I was named after my G-mama. The first part.”
“The first part,” he repeated, not quite sure that he followed her.
“Yes. CeCe.” She held her arms out for him to help her down. “Except her name’s really Cecilia. Mine is, too, but Mommy calls me CeCe so she doesn’t mix G-mama and me up.”
Bryce set her down on the ground again. “I see.” Though it didn’t actually have anything to do with finding her mother or her home, he couldn’t resist gleaning just a little more information about this diminutive blonde chatterbox who had wandered into his station. “And what does your daddy call you?”
“Nothing,” she told him with a matter-of-fact air worthy of someone five or six times her age. “I don’t have a daddy. Mommy says we’re doing just fine without one.”
“Uh-huh.” Mommy was obviously rather adamant about the subject, he thought, given the verve he heard in CeCe’s voice. “Well, I don’t think she’s doing just fine right now,” he speculated, more to himself than to the tiny intruder. “She’s probably out looking for you right now.”
His visitor shook her head with feeling, sending her blond curls flying back and forth again. “I don’t think so. Mommy’s busy.”
“Doing what?” He had a very low opinion of a mother who was too busy to notice her child was missing. In his mind, he envisioned a woman neglecting her child for any one of a half-dozen reasons, none of which were acceptable.
Like someone on a deliberate, savored odyssey, CeCe’s inspection of the fire truck was taking her to the rear of the vehicle. “She’s gotta tell all those men what to do. They’re all confused.”
They weren’t the only ones, Bryce thought. “What men?”
“The men who are helping her.” She frowned. “You’re not listening. Mommy told G-mama men don’t listen.”
“Oh, she did, did she?” Mommy obviously didn’t have a very high opinion of men. Which made them equal, because he didn’t have a high opinion of women who misplaced their children.
But, in the absence of the appearance of a frantic woman searching for her wandering gypsy of a child, he had no recourse but to keep the little girl occupied. On a hunch, he tapped her on the shoulder and when she turned around to look at him, he extended his hand to her. “Would you like a tour of the fire station while we try to figure out how to find your mommy?”
CeCe took his hand readily, but she cocked her head and looked at him, as if that would help her understand his meaning better. “Why? Mommy’s not lost.”
He smiled at her. If he had chosen a different path for himself, a child like Cece might have been his by now. But that was all water under a bridge he had crossed over voluntarily a long time ago.
“No, but you are.”
“No, I’m not.” The smile that came to her lips was so bright, Bryce found himself instantly charmed and very firmly captivated. How could anyone not notice that a little doll like this was missing? “I’m right here. With you.”
He found he had a difficult time arguing with that, so he didn’t even try.
Lisa Billings felt as if she had taken exhaustion to a new high. Or low, depending on the point of view.
All she knew was that right at this moment, she felt more drained than a riverbed during a prolonged draught. For the last six months she had been flying between her former home in Dallas and the city she had decided to resettle her family in, trying to find the perfect locale for both her store and her new home. A new home where she intended to make a new life for herself and her daughter. The appeal of a fresh start was strong.
Her requirements weren’t many, but they were nonnegotiable. She wanted someplace that was bright and clean and safe, somewhere with a wonderful school system that would benefit a daughter as bright and eager to learn as CeCe was. The hundred and twenty some-odd details that went into making the transition had finally led her to Bedford, which was as near-perfect as she could hope for.
Looking back, she couldn’t remember a time in the last six months when she hadn’t been busy enough for two people. As busy as she was, she couldn’t spend too much time thinking and that was a blessing. She didn’t like to have too much time to think, or reflect.
But somehow, amid all that busy-ness that was taking place, she had just about “busied” herself out and lost sight of the most important thing of all. CeCe. CeCe, the reason she had undertaken owning and running a toy store that catered to a child’s fertile imagination and not to noise, chaos and the advertising toy craze of the moment. CeCe, who was, quite simply, the reason she drew breath every day.
Somehow, amid the rush of movers who were bent on testing the durability of every breakable item she owned and the confusion of getting everything reorganized again, she had misplaced her daughter.
One minute, CeCe was playing in the new front yard, doing her best not to get underfoot. The next, when Lisa looked back to check on her, CeCe was gone. A quick search of the area told Lisa that her daughter wasn’t in the front yard, or the back. Or anywhere else in the house, either. Tired of exploring it, CeCe had obviously gone on to conquer other areas.
Lisa tried very hard not to give in to the panic that was swiftly filling all the empty spaces left inside of her. Praying she had somehow missed seeing her, Lisa made another, faster pass through the two-story house, looking behind boxes and any place CeCe might have decided to turn into a temporary play area.
When this go-round proved to be as fruitless as the first, she hurried out to the front yard again. There she found her mother. Cecilia Dombrowski was directing the movers like one of the field marshals who had existed in her family tree.
One look at her daughter’s face had Cecilia halting in midcommand. “What is it?”
Years of taking on too much, of trying to be invincible, had brought Lisa to the brink of collapse and had her tottering there now. She felt herself very close to crumbling and hated herself for having the feeling. “I can’t find her anywhere, Mother. I can’t find CeCe.”
The older woman set her mouth grimly. Moving quickly, Cecilia did an about-face and placed herself in the center of the movers. Raising her hands, she immediately captured their attention.
“My granddaughter is missing. You all know what she looks like. Please stop what you are doing and look for her. Now.” The movers, four burly men of varying heights, looked at one another, somewhat bewildered and confused. “Now,” Cecilia repeated. She pointed first to the left of the house and then to the right. “There are houses on both sides of this one. Knock on doors. Ask. She was here a few minutes ago and her legs are short. She could not have gone far. Your legs are much longer, you can cover more distance. Please.”
The last word was issued as more of a command than a plea. Cecilia’s look was unwavering as her eyes swept over the four men’s faces.
The men quickly scattered, doing as she asked. The furniture could wait.
With a semisatisfied sigh, Cecilia turned to her daughter. She placed hands on Lisa’s shoulders and Lisa could feel warmth and encouragement in the very contact.
“You do the same. Go. Look. We will find her. You know that we will.”
There were times Lisa felt that even God wouldn’t argue with her mother and she certainly wasn’t about to. Just hearing Cecilia’s reassurances that this would all be resolved shortly and satisfactorily heartened her and gave her something to cling to. Never mind that it was intangible.
“Yes,” Lisa answered with more conviction than she felt. “We will.”
“Good, I will remain here, in case she returns home on her own. You know how CeCe is,” Cecilia said, smiling.
Lisa blew out a breath, telling herself she was just overreacting. CeCe knew better than to go far.
Then where was she? she demanded silently.
Nodding at her mother’s words, Lisa began to walk to the house on the left, the last one on the corner of the development. A car passed by on its way out, its windshield catching the sun and instantly flashing it all around like a sunburst intent on illuminating the immediate surrounding area.
The glare hurt her eyes. Shading them with her hand, Lisa squinted.
And that was when she saw it.
The fire station across the street on the corner. She’d only paid marginal attention to it when she’d driven past it before, taking notice of it the way she had the library and the high school beyond, as part of the scenery, nothing more.
Now it registered with glaring lights. A fire station.
It wasn’t as if it was immediately accessible. Between the house and the fire station was a wide street with three lanes of traffic going in either direction and a small island in between for pedestrians who weren’t quick enough to take advantage of the traffic signal.
CeCe loved fire trucks.
Oh, please, let her be there.
Her heart in her throat, not waiting to tell her mother her hunch, Lisa paused only to glance at the flow of immediate oncoming traffic and to take in the traffic light that was, for at least this moment, green. Taking advantage of it, Lisa sprinted across the street like the high school track and field team member she’d once been.
She made it across the entire street, eschewing the island, before the yellow light had a chance to slip into red.
He didn’t know exactly what made him turn just then. Maybe he’d been half waiting for the approach of a frantic parent, maybe it was nothing more than chance that had made him look through the window facing the street just then. Whatever the reason, he caught the motion out of the corner of his eye and then found himself mesmerized as he watched the woman sprint from one corner to the next.
The woman moved like a gazelle.
She moved, he realized, the way the wind would, if it had taken on the form of a young, shapely woman with hair the color of sunshine just after sunrise. Dressed in white, cuffed shorts that brushed against her upper thighs as she moved and in what could only be termed as a skimpy red tank top that clung to the swell of her breasts with each breath she took, she was definitely a sight to behold. He was surprised that some of the other firefighters on duty weren’t hanging out of the upper story window, cheering her on.
Bryce sobered as she made it to the opposite corner. This had to be CeCe’s mother. The concerned look was a dead giveaway.
“Honey,” he said to the little girl who was holding his hand as if they were old friends, “I think I just spotted your mommy.”
CeCe pressed her lips together in deep concentration, as if she was trying to remember something or reconcile a new fact with the ever-growing data base that was expanding in her mind. “Mommy doesn’t like spots on her. She’s very clean.”
He bit back a laugh. “Right now, I’d say she was very angry.” He drew CeCe over to the doorway just as the woman ran up the walk.
“Excuse me,” Lisa called out the instant she saw Bryce’s movement, “have you seen a little girl go—CeCe!”
CeCe looked mystified by both Bryce’s observation and by the strange look on her mother’s face. She thought she saw tears shining in her mother’s eyes. Tears made her feel sad.
Mommy didn’t cry very often, but when she did, CeCe always felt that there should be something she could do to make her mother feel happy again.
CeCe put on her brightest smile. Mommy always said she liked seeing her smile. “Hi, Mommy. Are you okay?”
“I am now.”
There had been very few times in Lisa’s life when she had felt like laughing and crying at the same time. This was one of them. Fears she had refused to allow loose were now throbbing in her head like so many explosive puffs of steam expanding within a pressure cooker.
Completely ignoring the man with her daughter, Lisa dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around CeCe. Pulling her close to her, Lisa hugged her daughter while fighting a losing battle with her overwrought emotions. It took everything she had not to burst into tears and sob her relief.
Only after she had assured herself that her daughter was real, safe and unharmed did Lisa lean back and, still holding on to her, look at the small face. “Oh God, CeCe, how could you do this to me? How could you run off like that?”
The answer seemed perfectly logical to the four-year-old. “He has a fire truck. A real one.” She pointed to the vehicle in question behind her.
But Lisa wasn’t looking at the fire truck.
She had suddenly become aware of the fact that she was on her knees in front of a very tall, very blond man wearing a navy blue fireman’s uniform. Moreover, she was kneeling before a man who was looking at her as if he’d just come off an enforced seven-week fast and she was a piece of fried chicken prepared just the way he always liked it.
Chapter Two
“Look, Mommy, it’s just like the fire truck you had in your store.” A hint of an impatient pout graced CeCe’s small mouth when her mother didn’t look at the object of her affections.
Lisa lowered her eyes to her daughter’s face, trying to ignore the fact that she felt as if she were being slowly appraised and measured by the man standing behind CeCe. Instead she focused on the reason her heart had all but stopped beating earlier. Things could have turned out a great deal worse and she knew it. In light of that, being surveyed by a good-looking man didn’t seem like such a terrible price to pay in exchange for finding CeCe safe and sound.
Holding her by both small shoulders, Lisa looked at the little girl who had been the joy of her life even before she’d been born. From the moment she’d learned that she was pregnant, Lisa had crafted her life carefully around the promise of a child and the kind of life that would follow once the child was born. She couldn’t afford to remain unfocused any longer. Children needed things.
Most of all, they needed mothers who were there for them, to hold them and love them the way hers had. It gave Lisa a purpose to her life she was grateful for and that she had never lost sight of.
Even if she had lost sight of CeCe for the last ten minutes.
Hiding her relief, Lisa attempted to look stern. She didn’t want this happening ever again.
“Now listen to me, young lady. I don’t care if you saw an entire fleet of fire trucks, or if there was a great big yellow dragon sitting in its place,” she said, referring to CeCe’s favorite cartoon program, “you know better than to run off without telling either G-mama or me where you were going. And you know something else, too, don’t you?” Deliberately narrowing her eyes, she pinned the little girl with a look.
CeCe sighed, squirming uncomfortably before she nodded her head. As her mother began reciting the one rule she was strict about enforcing, CeCe joined in, parroting words that had been drummed into her head ever since she had been able to string two words together.
“Don’t ever talk to strangers.”
Then, sucking in air as if she intended to launch into a rebuttal that left no room for her mother to voice her opinion, CeCe grabbed the firefighter’s hand and pulled him forward as she protested with feeling.
“But he’s not a stranger, Mommy. I know his name. It’s Bryce Walker and he’s my new best friend. And he’s a firefighter, Mommy. That’s like a policeman, right, except nobody shoots at him. You said if I was ever lost, to only talk to a policeman or a police lady. Remember? Well, I couldn’t find a policeman, but I found him.”
Lisa closed her eyes. There was no arguing with CeCe once she got started. She took after her grandmother that way—except worse. Lisa learned by experience to wait until the torrent of words subsided.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw her daughter’s new best friend looking at her. She supposed he did deserve an apology.
Rising Lisa brushed her hands against her shorts, a tingle of nerves unaccountably zigzagging through her. She wasn’t accustomed to thinking of herself as anything except CeCe’s mother. The firefighter wasn’t looking at her as if he thought of her as anyone’s mother.
Lisa cleared her throat, nodding toward CeCe. “I’m sorry if she was any trouble.”
She looked flustered, Bryce thought. He liked the slight tinge of pink that came into her cheeks. Looking down at his talkative new friend who had an iron grip on his hand, he grinned.
“CeCe? No, she wasn’t any trouble at all. I was just about to give your daughter a tour of the fire station.” His grin extended to include CeCe’s mother as well. “I’m sure the tour group could be expanded by one if you’re interested.”
“Thank you, but no.” Lisa saw CeCe’s face fall. Though she was completely right in turning down the invitation for more than one reason, Lisa still felt guilty. She always did whenever she denied CeCe anything. Wanting to give her daughter the world, the guilt that accompanied any refusal was something she continually had to wrestle with.
“But Mommy—” CeCe began to protest.
Lisa remained firm. She had to. “We’re in the middle of moving in and everything’s a big mess. I can’t spare the time right now, honey. Besides—” she suddenly remembered “—I have the movers all combing the neighborhood for you.”
Confusion puckered the small brow. “Why do they want to comb me, Mommy?”
Bryce bit back a laugh. “It’s just an expression, honey.” Very gently, he withdrew his hand from the small grasping fingers then raised his eyes to Lisa. “I can put the tour on hold, if you’d like. Consider it a raincheck.” He saw her open her mouth to protest. “Everyone should get to know their neighborhood firehouse. We’re not just for fires anymore.” He winked at CeCe, clearly winning her heart by becoming a coconspirator. “And on rare occasions, we even offer baby-sitting—um, big girl sitting services,” he amended seeing her small brows rise in indignation.
CeCe Billings was, he thought, what his grandfather had been wont to call “a pistol.” He wished the old man was still around to meet the little girl. On second thought, his grandfather would have probably attempted to make a play for CeCe’s mom. The man had retained a twinkle in his eye until the day he died at age ninety-three.
Bryce hoped the condition was hereditary and that he’d be half as spry when he got to that age.
Lisa wished she had on something other than a tank top and shorts, but she had a feeling the man would make her aware of his gaze even if she were wearing sack cloth and ashes. She raised her chin, determined to retreat as quickly as possible.
“That’s comforting to know, but I’m sure we won’t be bothering you again, Mr.—um—”
“Walker.” He put out his hand to her. “Bryce Walker.”
“I already told you, Mommy,” CeCe reminded her.
Lisa hesitated, not wanting to waste any more precious time. Across the street, her mother and the movers were undoubtedly still searching for CeCe. She had to get back before her mother decided to call the police. Her mother had never believed in taking the slow approach to anything and was a firm believer in getting the system to work for her any way it could.
But the firefighter was being awfully nice about having CeCe bend his ear and he had looked after the little girl for her. She didn’t want to think about what could have happened if CeCe had just continued to wander off on her own.
So, with one foot out the door, holding her daughter firmly by the hand, Lisa extended her free one and slipped it into his. His grip was firm, hard. Warm. And his eyes were definitely unsettling, reminding her just how long it had been since she’d looked at any man as something other than a customer.
“I’m Lisa Billings.” Her throat felt inordinately dry. She had to remember to stop and drink something once in a while, she told herself. All morning long, she’d worked like a whirling dervish, trying to get the new house organized. She had a limited amount of time before she had to get back to working on the store. The opening day was close. “Thank you for minding CeCe.”
“It was a pleasure.”
He was still holding her hand. And her attention. Fighting self-consciousness, she withdrew her hand from his. Uncoupled, she saw that he was nonetheless following her, step for step as she began to edge away.
“CeCe says you’re new to the city.”
She gave CeCe a reproving look. She was going to have to see about getting her daughter to be a little less forthcoming.
“We are.”
He wondered if it was his imagination that made him think she looked a little uneasy, talking to him. “And the state.”
“That, too.” She glanced at her daughter again, making it across the threshold this time. Just how much did CeCe tell this man about them?
He was still on duty until this evening, so he couldn’t very well take off with her, although there was something about her that tempted him to do just that.
So instead, Bryce lingered in the doorway. “Well, since I seem to be one of the first citizens of Bedford you’ve encountered—and you’ll probably be too tired to cook after the movers leave—maybe you’d like to have some dinner?”
“I’m sure I’ll have some dinner.” Lisa tossed her answer over her shoulder, turning away with CeCe.
“I mean, with me,” he added.
She never broke her stride as she looked at him. “I wouldn’t dream of putting you out.”
“You wouldn’t be,” he called after her.
But she was already hurrying across the street, her hand firmly wrapped around CeCe’s, leaving him to stand in the doorway of the station, feeling a little confused, rather like an adolescent who had just been rejected by the prom queen. It wasn’t anything he knew from firsthand experience.
“First time for everything, eh, Walker?”
He thought he was alone on the floor, having left the others in a hot poker game in the main room upstairs. Surprised, he turned around and saw Jack Riley standing next to the truck, laughter in his eyes. He and Riley went way back to a time when both their voices were higher and their permanent teeth hadn’t come in yet.
He might have known this would amuse Riley.
“Though I’d never thought I’d see the day when a woman would turn you down.” Jack laughed to himself, coming forward. “Hell, my mother would go out with you if you just showed a little interest.”
Closer than brothers, they had trained together and signed on for the same station when the time came. Bryce hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, still watching Lisa and CeCe.
“No offense, but I’m really not interested in having my neck separated from shoulders by your father.” There was no disguising the affection he bore for both of Riley’s parents. Riley’s father had been his own father’s best friend, and had willingly taken on the role of surrogate father to Bryce and his younger brother when they’d needed one.
Joining him in the doorway, Riley studied the departing form that had caught his friend’s attention. “Doesn’t look like your usual type.”
Bryce raised a brow. “Meaning?”
“Well, for one thing, she’s got a kid.” Riley knew better than anyone how Bryce felt about family. He paused, taking a different route than the obvious. “How do you know she’s not married?”
CeCe turned at the island and waved at Bryce. He waved back. “Her daughter didn’t mention a father.”
Riley shrugged carelessly. “Doesn’t mean one doesn’t exist, Walker. Maybe she’s just mad at him.”
Bryce merely shook his head. He watched as, reaching the opposite street, Lisa and CeCe make their way to the second house from the end of the block. Funny how he’d missed the moving truck earlier. Now that he was aware of it, it was as obvious as an elephant standing in a front yard.
“You had to be there,” he told his friend.
“Sorry I wasn’t.” Riley leaned over a little farther as the woman waved over four burly men in beige coveralls. The latter came trotting over obediently. He would, too, Riley thought. “Nice rear view.”
Bryce knew Riley meant nothing by the comment. Riley was all talk and as honorable as the day was long when it came to women’s feelings. Still, he couldn’t help the rejoinder that came to his lips. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
Riley grinned. “Only when she insists on it. Do I detect a chivalrous note coming through?”
Bryce saw another woman hurrying to Lisa, her arms outstretched. CeCe leaped into them. That had to be G-Mama, he decided. “No more than usual.”
“Oh, but this one’s a little different than usual,” Riley observed. “Like I said, she doesn’t seem to be your type.”
The reunion over, the three women went into the house. Bryce turned away. “And my type being?”
“Stringless. Absolutely stringless.” Riley nodded toward the house. “In case you didn’t notice, this one looks like she’s full of strings.”
Maybe he had been paying a little too much attention just now. Bryce laughed it off. “Hey, don’t get carried away, Riley. As you so delicately pointed out, the lady doesn’t even want to have dinner with me.”
Riley knew Bryce better than that. There wasn’t a time he could remember Bryce being easily put off. “Do I detect the call of a challenge?”
It was time to change the subject. Bryce indicated the rooms upstairs. “No, but I can see the dinner bell going off and ten hungry firefighters deciding to string you up because you didn’t make dinner when it was your turn to cook.” He flicked his thumb and forefinger at the date on the calendar that graced the side wall. Riley’s name was written in in the appropriate space.
Riley dragged his hand through his wayward chestnut-colored hair. “Hell, I forgot about that.” He caught his lower lip between his teeth as he looked up at his friend. “The refrigerator still empty?”
Bryce looked at him innocently, as if he didn’t know what was coming. As if they hadn’t danced this dance before a number of times. “Last I looked.”
Riley raised his eyes hopefully to Bryce’s face. The latter’s expression was deadpan. “You wouldn’t want to take my turn, would you?”
“I took your turn,” Bryce reminded him. “Last time, remember? And the time before that,” he added before Riley could protest. “The men are beginning to think you can’t cook.”
Riley sighed. He knew his limitations. “The men are right.”
Riley’s mother ran a restaurant and her cooking attracted people in droves. How this talent hadn’t been passed on was beyond Bryce. Even he had picked up a considerable number of pointers during the years he and his brother had lived with the Rileys. Riley, however, was just slightly beyond the boiling-water-without-burning-it-stage with no progress in sight. “No time like the present to learn,” Bryce commented.
Riley gave him a dark look. “That’s not what you’ll say when you’re at the hospital, having your stomach pumped.”
Bryce glanced over his shoulder toward the doorway, impulse pushing forward an idea. “Tell you what, I’ve got a few things to pick up at the grocery store myself. I’ll do the shopping for tonight. But then you’ve got to do the rest.”
It was only fair, he knew, the men each taking turns. But Riley really wished they’d give the assignment to someone who was better at it than he was. “Get something simple.”
“You read my mind.”
Riley watched his friend leave and thought of the expression he’d seen on Bryce’s face when the woman had turned down his offer.
“Only part of it, Walker,” he murmured to himself. “Only part of it.”
Bryce tucked the coloring book that was beginning to slip back more securely under his arm.
It wasn’t like him to go where he wasn’t wanted so he wasn’t altogether certain just exactly what he was doing here, standing on Lisa Billings’s doorstep, ringing her doorbell, flowers in one hand, a bag with a loaf of bread in the other and a coloring book tucked under his arm. There was also a broom leaning against the wall where he’d rested it.
He had a number of excuses ready to offer her when she asked, but explaining it to himself was a whole different matter. He wasn’t sure if he could.
It wasn’t as if he lacked female companionship. Now or ever. As Riley enjoyed ribbing him, he had more than his fair share of women ready to make themselves available to him.
There was no conceit involved. Bryce figured that women were attracted to the uniform and to resistance, both of which he possessed. He’d been a firefighter for eight years and as for the other, that had been an ongoing thing from the very first time he ever kissed a woman. He wasn’t interested in commitments and forever. He was already committed to his work and because of that, it precluded any other long-term relationships that might be headed to the altar. Any woman he ever went out with knew he was not the marrying kind. Not from any desire to remain free or to sample as many women as he could, but from a very humane standpoint. He’d been thirteen years old when his father died in the line of duty, sacrificing his life while trying to save two children from being burned to death. And then Bryce had watched, day in, day out, what that sacrifice had done to his mother. It took away the laughter from her eyes and for a while, had sent her into a depression so deep, nothing and no one could reach her.
Even when she recovered, she was never the same after his father died.
To him, marriage was a pledge in which two people promised to live the rest of their lives together. It was only natural to assume that life would be for as long a time as could possibly be managed. That didn’t mean taking on burning buildings on a regular basis, which was what he did for a living. A firefighter risked his life every day, risked the happiness of those he loved every day, pitting his life against a force of nature. And sometimes, he lost. The way his father had.
The tears Bryce saw in his mother’s eyes for a full year following his father’s death at the age of thirty-four made him silently vow never to put anyone through what his mother had suffered.
Since his heart had been set on being a firefighter from the very first time his father had brought him down to the station, Bryce thought it only right to make a choice. A home and family, or a career, but not both. So he followed one dream and gave up the other. Most of the time, it seemed like a fair tradeoff.
But every so often, he caught himself wondering what it would have been like if he had followed the other path. If he’d gone into engineering homes instead of saving them, or harnessing nature instead of battling it.
Talking to CeCe had made him wonder again. But he told himself that it was only a passing thing and that coming here this evening, after he’d gone off duty, was merely motivated out of a sense of neighborliness.
He rang the doorbell and waited. There was no response on the other side of the door, no music coming through an open window, no sound of shuffling. Maybe they’d gone out to get something to eat, he speculated. The moving van and its four men was gone.
Deciding to give it one last try, Bryce reached for the bell again when the door abruptly opened. Instead of Lisa, he found himself looking down at a woman who could have been mistaken for a slightly older version of the woman. Rather than shorts, she had on a sundress and her short, stylishly cut dark blond hair had a ribbon of gray running through it.
But she looked up at him with Lisa and CeCe’s blue eyes. “Yes?”
“I’m not sure if I have the right house, but do Lisa Billings and her daughter, CeCe, live here?” Even if he hadn’t been certain that he had the right house, one look at the woman would have assured him that he did. Still, it seemed a good enough way to begin.
Cecilia took swift measure of the handsome young man at the front door. She made decisions quickly. In her life, there hadn’t always been much time for debating.
She liked his mouth. The lines around it indicated that he was given to smiling frequently. It was a good trait. And his eyes were kind. You could tell a great deal about a man by his eyes. Her husband had had kind eyes. CeCe’s father hadn’t, but she’d found it a difficult thing to convey to Lisa at the time. You had to let your children make their own mistakes, no matter how much it pained you to watch.
“Yes.” Cecilia saw the broom leaning against the wall. The young man seemed to come with an odd assortment of things. He was holding flowers in his hand and there was some sort of thin book held flat against his side by his arm. She couldn’t begin to guess what he had in the bag. “You are selling brooms, perhaps?”
Bryce shifted his weight. It wasn’t often he felt self-conscious. “No, I—”
Curious who her mother was talking to, Lisa hurried over to the open door. “Who is it, Mother?” Peering around the door, she stopped short. “Oh God, it’s you.”
Intrigued, Cecilia stepped back from the doorway, allowing the visitor better access. “You know him?”
She hadn’t expected him to actually come over, Lisa thought. He must have watched her leave with CeCe. “It’s the fireman I told you about, the one who I found with CeCe.”
Interest transformed into something akin to pleasure. A smile bloomed on Cecilia’s face as she took hold of his wrist, drawing him into the house. “Ah, please come in, yes?”
Lisa’s immediate response was, “No,” but it was already too late. Her mother was shutting the door, after pulling the firefighter inside.
Chapter Three
There’d only been just enough time for him to grab the broom before Bryce had found himself being pulled into the house by the diminutive woman who had clamped her hands around his wrist. She was surprisingly strong, given her size.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said obediently, trying not to laugh. Obviously her mother and her daughter were a lot freer spirits than Lisa Billings was.
Out of the corner of his eye, Bryce saw CeCe come running into the room. The moment she saw him, she clapped her hands together in pure delight. Her grin was wide and welcoming.
Unlike, he noted, her mother’s expression. Nobody had to tell him that Lisa wasn’t happy about this turn of events, or the lack of immediate support she had.
CeCe fairly bounced in front of him, her eyes shining. “Hi, Bryce.”
Lisa didn’t want CeCe getting too friendly with the intrusive firefighter, even if this was just a onetime visit.
“Mr. Walker,” she corrected.
A little of the sunlight in CeCe’s eyes abated. Bryce was quick to wave Lisa’s admonishment aside. Too many children called him by his first name for CeCe to be singled out this way.
“That’s too much of a mouthful for someone her size, Lisa. Bryce is fine.”
Lisa didn’t like him calling her by her first name. It made this conversation entirely too personal. Besides, she had the feeling that he was conveying more to her than just a name preference when he said that Bryce was fine, but there was no way she was about to allow herself to be drawn into any sort of wordplay over that.
In the larger scheme of things, it was all a moot point. It wasn’t as if the man was going to be someone they interacted with on a regular basis. As soon as she managed to usher him on his way, she didn’t expect to ever see Bryce Walker again, barring a fire somewhere in the immediate area.
But before she could say anything, her mother was taking charge of the situation.
“Well, then, Bryce,” Cecilia said, smiling at him, “we were just about to sit down to dinner. Perhaps you will join us?”
For a second, the air left her lungs. Lisa felt completely outflanked. She knew from experience that sending her mother a glaring look would be utterly wasted on the woman, so she didn’t even bother—as much as she wanted to.
Instead she drew herself up and sent the withering look in Bryce’s direction. The last thing she needed at the tail end of a trying day was an invasion by an unwanted guest, no matter how handsome he was.
“I’m sure Mr. Walker has to be somewhere else, Mother.”
He returned the withering look with a long, slow appraisal that started at the top of her head and wound its way down to her bare toes. Lisa felt as if she suddenly had nothing on and felt all the hotter for it.
“No,” he assured her quietly, “as a matter of fact, I don’t.”
Triumphant, Cecilia hooked her arm through Bryce’s. She looked back at her daughter. “See?”
A thread of satisfaction wound through her words that she didn’t bother to hide. As far as Cecilia was concerned, Lisa had been hiding behind her work and her family in an effort to barricade herself away from the rest of the world and deny the fact that she had a heart that could still be hurt. If nothing was risked, nothing was gained.
Cecilia glanced at the broom Bryce was still holding. “By the way, what is all this you bring with you?”
“Yes,” Lisa seconded the question, her eyes sweeping over the bag he held in his other hand. “Just why are you dragging a broom around? Are you moonlighting as a broom salesman?” Maybe if she insulted him, he’d go away.
But instead of being insulted, he flashed a grin at her. “You and your mother think alike.”
Not hardly, Lisa thought, swallowing a groan. To her surprise, he presented the broom to her.
“It’s for you. A housewarming gift,” he explained when she only stared at it.
She raised her eyes to his face, wondering what he was up to. “I already have a broom. And a vacuum cleaner,” she added, in case he had one waiting in his car.
“Lisa, if the man wants to give you a broom, you must be polite and take it,” Cecilia told her kindly, taking the broom from Bryce as if he had just presented her with the crown jewels of England.
Bryce couldn’t read Lisa’s expression, but he figured he could take a calculated guess what was going on in her mind. Being a firefighter made him sensitive to highly volatile situations.
Time to defuse the moment, he thought. “Actually it’s an old tradition.” Lisa looked at him blankly. “The broom’s symbolic,” he told her. “You give someone moving into a new home a broom to sweep away any evil spirits that might still be lurking around, left over from the old tenants. And the loaf of bread—” he handed the bag he’d brought to Lisa “—is so that you never go hungry.”
She vaguely remembered hearing or reading about the tradition. But Bryce didn’t strike her as the kind of person who went in for old-fashioned customs. Looking at him uncertainly, she glanced inside the bag. It was a loaf of bread all right. Closing it, she looked at the bouquet he was still holding.
“And the flowers? What are they for?”
This part was a last-minute inspiration. As her mother watched approvingly, he offered the flowers to Lisa with a flourish. “To make you smile.”
“Oh.” It was a simple bouquet of daisies, but it left her flustered and at a loss for words. Her mouth curved slightly without her even realizing it as she accepted the bouquet and looked down at the clustered, bouncy petals. Daisies, to pick apart one by one, murmuring “he loves me, he loves me not.” “I see.”
“It works!” CeCe announced with enthusiasm, grinning broadly. Then the grin began to fade away as she looked skeptically at the broom her grandmother was holding. She lowered her voice in a hushed whisper, inclining her head toward Bryce. “Does that mean we have evil spirits to sweep away?”
He saw the beginning of fear in her eyes. He’d meant to charm the mother, not frighten the daughter.
“They’re all gone already,” he told her solemnly. “It’s the fire department’s job to send any evil spirits packing a whole month before anyone new moves in. This—” he tapped the handle with his finger “—is just to remind them to stay away. Forever.”
“Oh.” Relieved, CeCe released a sigh that seemed twice as large as she was.
“Hey, I almost forgot. This is for you.” With a gesture every bit as grand as the flourish he’d used to present the flowers to Lisa, he awarded the coloring book he had tucked under his arm to CeCe. “It’s all about different fire trucks.” He winked at her. “Something the department keeps around for Bedford’s future taxpayers.”
She hugged the thin booklet to her, pleased to be remembered. “Mommy, where are my crayons?”
“We’ll find them after dinner.” Otherwise, Lisa knew that there would be no prying CeCe away from the coloring book until she was finished.
It suddenly occurred to Bryce that he hadn’t brought anything to give Lisa’s mother. Admittedly, the woman had not been on his mind when he was planning his strategy. He turned to her now a tad sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t bring anything for you.”
“Oh, but you did, Bryce,” Cecilia replied with a soft smile he could only wish would grace her daughter’s lips. The smile filtered into her eyes, putting him completely at ease. “You brought me your company. Now, how do you feel about pierogi?”
Unfamiliar with the word, he could only shake his head. “I’m afraid I don’t have any feelings about it one way or another.”
“You will,” Cecilia promised, patting his arm. “In time.” She gestured toward what looked to be the dining area. “Now, you and Lisa go sit and wait. CeCe and I will bring the food. You are in for a treat.” Cecilia winked, then taking the bag with the loaf of bread from her daughter, she commandeered her granddaughter’s attention. With a nod of her head, she led the way into the kitchen. Leaving Bryce and Lisa alone.
Awkwardness descended immediately, draping itself heavily on her shoulders. Lisa wished her mother had let her be the one to bring in the meal, but she knew better. This whole scene couldn’t have been playing itself out any better than if her mother had written it all out with specific stage directions.
Taking a deep breath, Lisa told herself she’d get through this. Abruptly she turned toward Bryce. “My mother worked at an embassy overseas when she was younger, she never completely got over ordering people around.”
“I think she’s great,” Bryce said. Cecilia reminded him a little of Riley’s mother, a woman who had been closer to him in his adolescent years than his own mother had been.
Lisa nodded, acknowledging the compliment. “Most people do,” she remarked. “You really don’t have to stay, you know.”
He studied her face, trying to sort out her signals and his own wishful thinking. “Is that your polite way of saying get lost?”
She caught her tongue between her teeth, fighting the urge to tell him just that. She didn’t need a bone-meltingly good-looking man putting ideas into her mother’s head just by his very presence. Her mother was incorrigible enough as it was, ceaselessly promoting the idea that she should get back out there amid the sharks and swim until she found someone special to swim through life with.
As if that was ever going to happen.
To find someone she had to be looking. And she wasn’t. Having her heart kicked in once was more than enough to teach her the pitfalls of wearing her heart on her sleeve. Of loving one man to distraction and placing all her faith, all her hopes and dreams into his careless hands.
She had loved Kyle, but he had loved his freedom even more. Watching him walk away, walk away from her and the promise of the family that was to be, was something she knew would remain with her for the rest of her life. She wasn’t about to put herself into the position of experiencing that again even in the remotest sense.
Still, since Bryce had been exceptionally kind to her daughter and mother, it wouldn’t kill her to be nice, she reasoned. Besides, if she sent him away now, before dinner, she knew her mother would never let her hear the end of it.
So Lisa resigned herself to suffering through the next hour or so. “If I wanted you to get lost,” she informed him tersely, “I would say so.”
“Glad to hear it.” He waited until she walked into the dining room, then followed behind her. “So, what’s this pier—pier—” Fumbling for the word he hadn’t quite grasped, he looked at her for help. Amusement curved her mouth. He had a feeling she liked him at a disadvantage. “Help me out, here.”
“Pierogi. It’s the Polish answer to ravioli,” she elaborated.
He pulled out a chair for her. “You’re Polish?”
“Yes, anything wrong with that?” She sat down and allowed him to push the chair in for her. The next moment, she felt her pulse scrambling as he lowered his face next to hers. She could have sworn she felt his breath along her cheek.
“Not a thing.” He saw the pulse in her throat jump as her jaw tightened. Bryce smiled to himself as he straightened again. Nice to know a graceful body like hers wasn’t entirely sculpted out of ice. “It’s just that Billings doesn’t sound very Polish.”
Her eyes were cold as he rounded the table to sit down.
“Billings was my married name.” She’d toyed with changing it back to her maiden name, but there was CeCe to think of. The little girl was incredibly bright, but she was still a four-year-old with a four-year-old’s emotions. Having a different name than her mother might be too confusing for her at this point.
“Was,” he echoed. So his guess had been right. But he pushed the envelope a tiny bit further. “As in—I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes by being here?”
His eyes were just a little too green, a little too warm for her. “Would you care?” Lisa asked.
He had his principles and that included never cutting in on another man’s territory once it was staked out. “Very much so.”
Honor was not the first word she thought of when Lisa thought of men in general. She’d learned the hard way that men like her father didn’t exist anymore. They were far too practical. “Why? Because it would get you into a confrontational situation?”
She was the one who was looking for a confrontational situation, he thought. “Because I socialize with married women in a different way than I socialize with unmarried women,” he told her amiably. And then he leaned forward and asked, “Do you find it gives you a backache?”
Her brows narrowed. She had no idea what he was talking about. “What does?”
Bryce nodded toward her shoulders. “That huge chip you’re carrying around on your shoulder. I’d imagine it might make you stoop a lot less if you weren’t lugging it around into every conversation.”
He’d never seen blue lightning flash before. He did now, in her eyes as she drew herself up, a pugnacious tilt to her head. “I don’t have a chip on my shoulder. I’m just careful. And suspicious.”
Something stirred within him and Bryce knew that Riley had been right. He did love a challenge. Any challenge, but particularly one that came dressed in white cuffed shorts and a tank top made for stirring up erotic fantasies in his mind. He leaned in closer to her. “Of people in general, men specifically, or just me?”
Her gaze never wavered as she met his head-on. Only her stomach did a minor flip-flop, but that was for her to know and him not to find out, she thought. “No, maybe and yes.”
He was game. “Why me?”
She would have thought that easy enough to see. “Why are you here?”
He repeated the offer he’d made earlier, in the fire station. “I thought that since you were new in the neighborhood, I’d offer my services.”
Lisa had to concentrate to keep her skin from feeling as if it were tingling, responding to the way his eyes seemed to caress her—while an all-too-knowing smile graced his lips. “What kind of services?”
“Any kind you’d like.” Sitting here in her dining room, it occurred to Bryce that he would very much like to discover what kissing her would be like. He had more than a hunch that the lady wasn’t nearly as cool as she was trying to pretend. “I’m handy with my hands.”
She tossed her head, needing to do something to keep from sinking, knee deep, into the look in his eyes. “I just bet you are.”
“Bet he is what?”
Lisa’s head snapped up, whirling in the direction her mother’s voice was coming from. She hadn’t even heard either her mother or her daughter enter the room. CeCe was right behind Cecilia carrying another place setting for the table. Her mother had her hands full, bringing in a huge platter of pierogi. It was still steaming, with whiffs of heat rising up from the melting pats of butter.
It occurred to Bryce that both mother and grandmother were placing a great deal of faith in the child’s equilibrium. Rising, he quickly crossed to the little girl, reaching for the place setting. “Thanks, CeCe. I’ll take it from here.”
CeCe surrendered the plate and silverware without a word. But the look in her eyes said it all. It was obvious to Lisa that her daughter was completely smitten with Bryce.
Lisa didn’t like what she was seeing here. Her mother was taking all this in and, from the look in her eyes, giving Bryce points. And it was clear that CeCe was already crazy about him. That made it two against one if he decided to make another appearance on her doorstep anytime soon.
Blowing out a long breath, all Lisa could do was hope that she could put him off from trying.
“Bet he is what?” CeCe repeated, looking from her mother to Bryce.
The kid was a sponge, Bryce thought. And probably part bull terrier. He’d be willing to bet that once she latched on to something, she didn’t give up until she got what she was after.
“Handy with my hands,” he told her.
“Like how?” CeCe asked eagerly. She was quick to take the place right beside him at the table. “Can you do tricks?”
“I don’t know about tricks,” he confided even as he produced a coin from behind her ear and then presented it to her. “But I can pretty much repair anything that needs fixing.”
Her eyes as big as saucers, CeCe took the coin from him, staring at it as if he’d just handed her magic in a solid form.
“Wow.” Clutching the coin to her, afraid it might disappear, she looked at her mother. “Did you see that, Mommy?”
Lisa cocked her head, studying their guest. Wondering just how much more there was to Bryce Walker than met the eye. She still had no idea why he’d planted himself on her doorstep. It wasn’t as if she’d encouraged him in any way. The girl within her who had flirted and taken life at face value had long since died. Reality had done that. Reality and Kyle.
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Marie Ferrarella
When Lisa Billings swept into Bryce Walker's fire station looking for her missing daughter, he was smitten with the enticing single mother. The handsome firefighter had long ago realized that white picket fences and parent-teacher meetings weren't meant for a man who risked his life on a daily basis.But Lisa and her little girl made him yearn for the dreams he'd put aside….Bryce was six feet of temptation-in-a-uniform, but Lisa cautioned herself to watch her step. Yet her heart and her soul-and her body-didn't heed her warnings…not when tall, strong and sexy Bryce made her feel like a woman again!
“I’d like to keep seeing you,” Bryce said.
Lisa felt her heart hitch. Damn, why did Bryce have to be so direct, so honest? She preferred the word games to facing something right now. Trying her best to remain aloof, she asked, “To what end?”
The question seemed to amuse him. “Mutual enjoyment. From what I gather, you’re not exactly in the market for marriage, either. And I did enjoy that kiss in your kitchen. So what do you say?”
Moving back her chair, Lisa tossed her napkin onto her plate. “For now, I say that I have to get back to the shop.”
“And later?” he pressed.
“Will be later.” Her tone was noncommittal. The response didn’t feel right to her, and she added, “We’ll see.”
“Nothing I like better than a challenge,” Bryce responded.
Lisa bit her lip and remained silent. That was exactly what she was afraid of.
Tall, Strong & Cool Under Fire
Marie Ferrarella
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To all the firefighters in my city, for taking such good care of all of us and making us safe every year.
Thank you.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter One
“Are you a fireman?”
The high, exuberant voice caught him by surprise, lifting him out of his realm of preoccupation. Turning away from the newly washed fire truck he was facing, Bryce Walker saw her. All three foot one of her. Completely adorable and most assuredly completely out of place.
The glib response on his lips, reserved for ladies far older than this little blond visitor obviously was, died away unspoken. Instead he smiled at her.
The little girl, decked out in soft pink coveralls with white daisies scattered throughout the body of the fabric, stood on the threshold of the fire station, obviously accepting the silent invitation the wide-open doorway extended to wayward travelers. She rocked slightly forward on the balls of her feet, her small hands shoved into her pockets like someone intent on doing nothing more with her morning than shooting the breeze. Her eyes watched him expectantly, waiting for an answer.
“Why yes, I am.”
Amused, Bryce crossed to her and then got down on one knee in an attempt to lessen the huge difference in their heights. He glanced to either side of the little girl, expecting to see a parent or at least an older sibling hanging back somewhere in the near vicinity.
But there was no one close by, not even any stragglers coming out of the library located directly to the right of the fire station, or eagerly flowing out of the summer school classes being given at the high school located in the center of the long block.
His visitor was apparently alone and very obviously fearless.
On occasion, Bryce gave talks on fire safety at the various local elementary schools located in Bedford, California. The little girl before him looked too young to be attending school. Bryce guessed her to be around four, or perhaps a very small five, though he doubted it. Intelligence shone in her cornflower-blue eyes, opened as wide as the daisies she had on her rompers.
The way she was regarding him told Bryce she thought of him as her equal in every way but height and opportunity. Her eyes darted past him to the truck that was just behind. “Do they let you drive the truck?”
He heard the hopeful note in her voice mingled with a touch of hero worship. The appeal of fire trucks had long since crossed the gender line. Bryce bit back a laugh, thinking of Alex. With three years seniority, the firefighter acted as if the truck was his own private property and would sooner walk over hot coals than allow someone else to touch the steering wheel.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
The little girl nodded her head in a commiserating manner that seemed far older than her obvious tender years. “Mommy won’t let me drive, either.”
It seemed to Bryce the perfect opportunity to initiate a reunion between the wayward child and her mother. “And where is Mommy?”
Leaving him in her wake, the little girl made her way to the fire truck in small, cautious steps, as if the truck wasn’t simply metal and gears, but a living, breathing thing that could be frightened into running off at any second if she wasn’t careful.
“At home.”
Bryce had a feeling that his unannounced visitor was going to be a fetching challenge when she got a little older. He wished any man who lost his heart to her luck. They were going to need it.
Getting up, he followed her slow progress around the vehicle. “And where’s home?”
Pausing, she looked over her shoulder, her expression momentarily sad, as if she was mourning something that had been lost. “Not Dallas anymore.”
He’d thought he’d detected a slight twang to her voice. But knowing her origins didn’t exactly help him at the moment. “And why’s that?”
The sigh she released was enormous. Slowly she made her way around the perimeter of the truck, studying every detail more closely than the fire chief during an impromptu inspection. “We moved.”
She was too young to be coy, though that would have been the word he would have used had she been a teenager. Bryce began to feel as if he was trapped in a children’s program. “To where?”
The little girl ran her hand along the front of the truck and he got the distinct impression she was petting it. “Here.”
Playing along, Bryce looked around, pretending to be mystified at the information. “You live here? In my fire station?”
He was rewarded with a giggle that was so infectious, he had a hard time not laughing along with her. She turned to look at him, her eyes crinkled with humor. “No, silly. In Bedford.”
He’d assumed as much, but it was nice to receive confirmation. At least she wasn’t visiting from out of town. It looked as if he just might finally be getting somewhere. “Do you know where in Bedford?”
She paused, considering his question. “Our house, of course,” she told him as if it were silly to think that there could be any other answer. “Mommy’s and G-mama’s and mine. Mommy said it belongs to all three of us. Equally.” She wrapped her tongue around the last word very slowly, as if careful to get it right.
Bryce noticed she didn’t mention a father and wondered if that meant that Missing Mommy was divorced, or possibly widowed. Or if she’d never been married in the first place. He doubted if the omission was an oversight. The little girl seemed to have an almost incredible grasp of her situation. He knew adults who were less aware of their surroundings than she appeared to be.
Following her as she made her way back to the side of the truck, he tried again. “Do you know your address?”
This time, the expression that met his question was a pint-size composition of frustration. The little girl shook her head. “No. It’s new.”
She seemed so upset that she couldn’t remember it, Bryce felt it best to gloss over the detail. No sense dwelling on it. If Mommy didn’t show up soon to claim her, he had friends on the police force who could help track her down.
“Sometimes,” he commented, “new things are hard to remember.” Holding her hand, he helped her up the steps of the fire truck so that she could get a closer look inside the cab. “Do you know your name?”
She looked at him with just a touch of impatience bringing her small, wheat-colored brows together in a puckered furrow. “Of course I do. My name’s not new. It’s as old as I am.”
“I see.” He pretended to nod his agreement. “My name is Bryce Walker. What is your name?”
She tossed her head, sending soft swirls of blond hair bouncing back and forth. “CeCe Billings. I was named after my G-mama. The first part.”
“The first part,” he repeated, not quite sure that he followed her.
“Yes. CeCe.” She held her arms out for him to help her down. “Except her name’s really Cecilia. Mine is, too, but Mommy calls me CeCe so she doesn’t mix G-mama and me up.”
Bryce set her down on the ground again. “I see.” Though it didn’t actually have anything to do with finding her mother or her home, he couldn’t resist gleaning just a little more information about this diminutive blonde chatterbox who had wandered into his station. “And what does your daddy call you?”
“Nothing,” she told him with a matter-of-fact air worthy of someone five or six times her age. “I don’t have a daddy. Mommy says we’re doing just fine without one.”
“Uh-huh.” Mommy was obviously rather adamant about the subject, he thought, given the verve he heard in CeCe’s voice. “Well, I don’t think she’s doing just fine right now,” he speculated, more to himself than to the tiny intruder. “She’s probably out looking for you right now.”
His visitor shook her head with feeling, sending her blond curls flying back and forth again. “I don’t think so. Mommy’s busy.”
“Doing what?” He had a very low opinion of a mother who was too busy to notice her child was missing. In his mind, he envisioned a woman neglecting her child for any one of a half-dozen reasons, none of which were acceptable.
Like someone on a deliberate, savored odyssey, CeCe’s inspection of the fire truck was taking her to the rear of the vehicle. “She’s gotta tell all those men what to do. They’re all confused.”
They weren’t the only ones, Bryce thought. “What men?”
“The men who are helping her.” She frowned. “You’re not listening. Mommy told G-mama men don’t listen.”
“Oh, she did, did she?” Mommy obviously didn’t have a very high opinion of men. Which made them equal, because he didn’t have a high opinion of women who misplaced their children.
But, in the absence of the appearance of a frantic woman searching for her wandering gypsy of a child, he had no recourse but to keep the little girl occupied. On a hunch, he tapped her on the shoulder and when she turned around to look at him, he extended his hand to her. “Would you like a tour of the fire station while we try to figure out how to find your mommy?”
CeCe took his hand readily, but she cocked her head and looked at him, as if that would help her understand his meaning better. “Why? Mommy’s not lost.”
He smiled at her. If he had chosen a different path for himself, a child like Cece might have been his by now. But that was all water under a bridge he had crossed over voluntarily a long time ago.
“No, but you are.”
“No, I’m not.” The smile that came to her lips was so bright, Bryce found himself instantly charmed and very firmly captivated. How could anyone not notice that a little doll like this was missing? “I’m right here. With you.”
He found he had a difficult time arguing with that, so he didn’t even try.
Lisa Billings felt as if she had taken exhaustion to a new high. Or low, depending on the point of view.
All she knew was that right at this moment, she felt more drained than a riverbed during a prolonged draught. For the last six months she had been flying between her former home in Dallas and the city she had decided to resettle her family in, trying to find the perfect locale for both her store and her new home. A new home where she intended to make a new life for herself and her daughter. The appeal of a fresh start was strong.
Her requirements weren’t many, but they were nonnegotiable. She wanted someplace that was bright and clean and safe, somewhere with a wonderful school system that would benefit a daughter as bright and eager to learn as CeCe was. The hundred and twenty some-odd details that went into making the transition had finally led her to Bedford, which was as near-perfect as she could hope for.
Looking back, she couldn’t remember a time in the last six months when she hadn’t been busy enough for two people. As busy as she was, she couldn’t spend too much time thinking and that was a blessing. She didn’t like to have too much time to think, or reflect.
But somehow, amid all that busy-ness that was taking place, she had just about “busied” herself out and lost sight of the most important thing of all. CeCe. CeCe, the reason she had undertaken owning and running a toy store that catered to a child’s fertile imagination and not to noise, chaos and the advertising toy craze of the moment. CeCe, who was, quite simply, the reason she drew breath every day.
Somehow, amid the rush of movers who were bent on testing the durability of every breakable item she owned and the confusion of getting everything reorganized again, she had misplaced her daughter.
One minute, CeCe was playing in the new front yard, doing her best not to get underfoot. The next, when Lisa looked back to check on her, CeCe was gone. A quick search of the area told Lisa that her daughter wasn’t in the front yard, or the back. Or anywhere else in the house, either. Tired of exploring it, CeCe had obviously gone on to conquer other areas.
Lisa tried very hard not to give in to the panic that was swiftly filling all the empty spaces left inside of her. Praying she had somehow missed seeing her, Lisa made another, faster pass through the two-story house, looking behind boxes and any place CeCe might have decided to turn into a temporary play area.
When this go-round proved to be as fruitless as the first, she hurried out to the front yard again. There she found her mother. Cecilia Dombrowski was directing the movers like one of the field marshals who had existed in her family tree.
One look at her daughter’s face had Cecilia halting in midcommand. “What is it?”
Years of taking on too much, of trying to be invincible, had brought Lisa to the brink of collapse and had her tottering there now. She felt herself very close to crumbling and hated herself for having the feeling. “I can’t find her anywhere, Mother. I can’t find CeCe.”
The older woman set her mouth grimly. Moving quickly, Cecilia did an about-face and placed herself in the center of the movers. Raising her hands, she immediately captured their attention.
“My granddaughter is missing. You all know what she looks like. Please stop what you are doing and look for her. Now.” The movers, four burly men of varying heights, looked at one another, somewhat bewildered and confused. “Now,” Cecilia repeated. She pointed first to the left of the house and then to the right. “There are houses on both sides of this one. Knock on doors. Ask. She was here a few minutes ago and her legs are short. She could not have gone far. Your legs are much longer, you can cover more distance. Please.”
The last word was issued as more of a command than a plea. Cecilia’s look was unwavering as her eyes swept over the four men’s faces.
The men quickly scattered, doing as she asked. The furniture could wait.
With a semisatisfied sigh, Cecilia turned to her daughter. She placed hands on Lisa’s shoulders and Lisa could feel warmth and encouragement in the very contact.
“You do the same. Go. Look. We will find her. You know that we will.”
There were times Lisa felt that even God wouldn’t argue with her mother and she certainly wasn’t about to. Just hearing Cecilia’s reassurances that this would all be resolved shortly and satisfactorily heartened her and gave her something to cling to. Never mind that it was intangible.
“Yes,” Lisa answered with more conviction than she felt. “We will.”
“Good, I will remain here, in case she returns home on her own. You know how CeCe is,” Cecilia said, smiling.
Lisa blew out a breath, telling herself she was just overreacting. CeCe knew better than to go far.
Then where was she? she demanded silently.
Nodding at her mother’s words, Lisa began to walk to the house on the left, the last one on the corner of the development. A car passed by on its way out, its windshield catching the sun and instantly flashing it all around like a sunburst intent on illuminating the immediate surrounding area.
The glare hurt her eyes. Shading them with her hand, Lisa squinted.
And that was when she saw it.
The fire station across the street on the corner. She’d only paid marginal attention to it when she’d driven past it before, taking notice of it the way she had the library and the high school beyond, as part of the scenery, nothing more.
Now it registered with glaring lights. A fire station.
It wasn’t as if it was immediately accessible. Between the house and the fire station was a wide street with three lanes of traffic going in either direction and a small island in between for pedestrians who weren’t quick enough to take advantage of the traffic signal.
CeCe loved fire trucks.
Oh, please, let her be there.
Her heart in her throat, not waiting to tell her mother her hunch, Lisa paused only to glance at the flow of immediate oncoming traffic and to take in the traffic light that was, for at least this moment, green. Taking advantage of it, Lisa sprinted across the street like the high school track and field team member she’d once been.
She made it across the entire street, eschewing the island, before the yellow light had a chance to slip into red.
He didn’t know exactly what made him turn just then. Maybe he’d been half waiting for the approach of a frantic parent, maybe it was nothing more than chance that had made him look through the window facing the street just then. Whatever the reason, he caught the motion out of the corner of his eye and then found himself mesmerized as he watched the woman sprint from one corner to the next.
The woman moved like a gazelle.
She moved, he realized, the way the wind would, if it had taken on the form of a young, shapely woman with hair the color of sunshine just after sunrise. Dressed in white, cuffed shorts that brushed against her upper thighs as she moved and in what could only be termed as a skimpy red tank top that clung to the swell of her breasts with each breath she took, she was definitely a sight to behold. He was surprised that some of the other firefighters on duty weren’t hanging out of the upper story window, cheering her on.
Bryce sobered as she made it to the opposite corner. This had to be CeCe’s mother. The concerned look was a dead giveaway.
“Honey,” he said to the little girl who was holding his hand as if they were old friends, “I think I just spotted your mommy.”
CeCe pressed her lips together in deep concentration, as if she was trying to remember something or reconcile a new fact with the ever-growing data base that was expanding in her mind. “Mommy doesn’t like spots on her. She’s very clean.”
He bit back a laugh. “Right now, I’d say she was very angry.” He drew CeCe over to the doorway just as the woman ran up the walk.
“Excuse me,” Lisa called out the instant she saw Bryce’s movement, “have you seen a little girl go—CeCe!”
CeCe looked mystified by both Bryce’s observation and by the strange look on her mother’s face. She thought she saw tears shining in her mother’s eyes. Tears made her feel sad.
Mommy didn’t cry very often, but when she did, CeCe always felt that there should be something she could do to make her mother feel happy again.
CeCe put on her brightest smile. Mommy always said she liked seeing her smile. “Hi, Mommy. Are you okay?”
“I am now.”
There had been very few times in Lisa’s life when she had felt like laughing and crying at the same time. This was one of them. Fears she had refused to allow loose were now throbbing in her head like so many explosive puffs of steam expanding within a pressure cooker.
Completely ignoring the man with her daughter, Lisa dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around CeCe. Pulling her close to her, Lisa hugged her daughter while fighting a losing battle with her overwrought emotions. It took everything she had not to burst into tears and sob her relief.
Only after she had assured herself that her daughter was real, safe and unharmed did Lisa lean back and, still holding on to her, look at the small face. “Oh God, CeCe, how could you do this to me? How could you run off like that?”
The answer seemed perfectly logical to the four-year-old. “He has a fire truck. A real one.” She pointed to the vehicle in question behind her.
But Lisa wasn’t looking at the fire truck.
She had suddenly become aware of the fact that she was on her knees in front of a very tall, very blond man wearing a navy blue fireman’s uniform. Moreover, she was kneeling before a man who was looking at her as if he’d just come off an enforced seven-week fast and she was a piece of fried chicken prepared just the way he always liked it.
Chapter Two
“Look, Mommy, it’s just like the fire truck you had in your store.” A hint of an impatient pout graced CeCe’s small mouth when her mother didn’t look at the object of her affections.
Lisa lowered her eyes to her daughter’s face, trying to ignore the fact that she felt as if she were being slowly appraised and measured by the man standing behind CeCe. Instead she focused on the reason her heart had all but stopped beating earlier. Things could have turned out a great deal worse and she knew it. In light of that, being surveyed by a good-looking man didn’t seem like such a terrible price to pay in exchange for finding CeCe safe and sound.
Holding her by both small shoulders, Lisa looked at the little girl who had been the joy of her life even before she’d been born. From the moment she’d learned that she was pregnant, Lisa had crafted her life carefully around the promise of a child and the kind of life that would follow once the child was born. She couldn’t afford to remain unfocused any longer. Children needed things.
Most of all, they needed mothers who were there for them, to hold them and love them the way hers had. It gave Lisa a purpose to her life she was grateful for and that she had never lost sight of.
Even if she had lost sight of CeCe for the last ten minutes.
Hiding her relief, Lisa attempted to look stern. She didn’t want this happening ever again.
“Now listen to me, young lady. I don’t care if you saw an entire fleet of fire trucks, or if there was a great big yellow dragon sitting in its place,” she said, referring to CeCe’s favorite cartoon program, “you know better than to run off without telling either G-mama or me where you were going. And you know something else, too, don’t you?” Deliberately narrowing her eyes, she pinned the little girl with a look.
CeCe sighed, squirming uncomfortably before she nodded her head. As her mother began reciting the one rule she was strict about enforcing, CeCe joined in, parroting words that had been drummed into her head ever since she had been able to string two words together.
“Don’t ever talk to strangers.”
Then, sucking in air as if she intended to launch into a rebuttal that left no room for her mother to voice her opinion, CeCe grabbed the firefighter’s hand and pulled him forward as she protested with feeling.
“But he’s not a stranger, Mommy. I know his name. It’s Bryce Walker and he’s my new best friend. And he’s a firefighter, Mommy. That’s like a policeman, right, except nobody shoots at him. You said if I was ever lost, to only talk to a policeman or a police lady. Remember? Well, I couldn’t find a policeman, but I found him.”
Lisa closed her eyes. There was no arguing with CeCe once she got started. She took after her grandmother that way—except worse. Lisa learned by experience to wait until the torrent of words subsided.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw her daughter’s new best friend looking at her. She supposed he did deserve an apology.
Rising Lisa brushed her hands against her shorts, a tingle of nerves unaccountably zigzagging through her. She wasn’t accustomed to thinking of herself as anything except CeCe’s mother. The firefighter wasn’t looking at her as if he thought of her as anyone’s mother.
Lisa cleared her throat, nodding toward CeCe. “I’m sorry if she was any trouble.”
She looked flustered, Bryce thought. He liked the slight tinge of pink that came into her cheeks. Looking down at his talkative new friend who had an iron grip on his hand, he grinned.
“CeCe? No, she wasn’t any trouble at all. I was just about to give your daughter a tour of the fire station.” His grin extended to include CeCe’s mother as well. “I’m sure the tour group could be expanded by one if you’re interested.”
“Thank you, but no.” Lisa saw CeCe’s face fall. Though she was completely right in turning down the invitation for more than one reason, Lisa still felt guilty. She always did whenever she denied CeCe anything. Wanting to give her daughter the world, the guilt that accompanied any refusal was something she continually had to wrestle with.
“But Mommy—” CeCe began to protest.
Lisa remained firm. She had to. “We’re in the middle of moving in and everything’s a big mess. I can’t spare the time right now, honey. Besides—” she suddenly remembered “—I have the movers all combing the neighborhood for you.”
Confusion puckered the small brow. “Why do they want to comb me, Mommy?”
Bryce bit back a laugh. “It’s just an expression, honey.” Very gently, he withdrew his hand from the small grasping fingers then raised his eyes to Lisa. “I can put the tour on hold, if you’d like. Consider it a raincheck.” He saw her open her mouth to protest. “Everyone should get to know their neighborhood firehouse. We’re not just for fires anymore.” He winked at CeCe, clearly winning her heart by becoming a coconspirator. “And on rare occasions, we even offer baby-sitting—um, big girl sitting services,” he amended seeing her small brows rise in indignation.
CeCe Billings was, he thought, what his grandfather had been wont to call “a pistol.” He wished the old man was still around to meet the little girl. On second thought, his grandfather would have probably attempted to make a play for CeCe’s mom. The man had retained a twinkle in his eye until the day he died at age ninety-three.
Bryce hoped the condition was hereditary and that he’d be half as spry when he got to that age.
Lisa wished she had on something other than a tank top and shorts, but she had a feeling the man would make her aware of his gaze even if she were wearing sack cloth and ashes. She raised her chin, determined to retreat as quickly as possible.
“That’s comforting to know, but I’m sure we won’t be bothering you again, Mr.—um—”
“Walker.” He put out his hand to her. “Bryce Walker.”
“I already told you, Mommy,” CeCe reminded her.
Lisa hesitated, not wanting to waste any more precious time. Across the street, her mother and the movers were undoubtedly still searching for CeCe. She had to get back before her mother decided to call the police. Her mother had never believed in taking the slow approach to anything and was a firm believer in getting the system to work for her any way it could.
But the firefighter was being awfully nice about having CeCe bend his ear and he had looked after the little girl for her. She didn’t want to think about what could have happened if CeCe had just continued to wander off on her own.
So, with one foot out the door, holding her daughter firmly by the hand, Lisa extended her free one and slipped it into his. His grip was firm, hard. Warm. And his eyes were definitely unsettling, reminding her just how long it had been since she’d looked at any man as something other than a customer.
“I’m Lisa Billings.” Her throat felt inordinately dry. She had to remember to stop and drink something once in a while, she told herself. All morning long, she’d worked like a whirling dervish, trying to get the new house organized. She had a limited amount of time before she had to get back to working on the store. The opening day was close. “Thank you for minding CeCe.”
“It was a pleasure.”
He was still holding her hand. And her attention. Fighting self-consciousness, she withdrew her hand from his. Uncoupled, she saw that he was nonetheless following her, step for step as she began to edge away.
“CeCe says you’re new to the city.”
She gave CeCe a reproving look. She was going to have to see about getting her daughter to be a little less forthcoming.
“We are.”
He wondered if it was his imagination that made him think she looked a little uneasy, talking to him. “And the state.”
“That, too.” She glanced at her daughter again, making it across the threshold this time. Just how much did CeCe tell this man about them?
He was still on duty until this evening, so he couldn’t very well take off with her, although there was something about her that tempted him to do just that.
So instead, Bryce lingered in the doorway. “Well, since I seem to be one of the first citizens of Bedford you’ve encountered—and you’ll probably be too tired to cook after the movers leave—maybe you’d like to have some dinner?”
“I’m sure I’ll have some dinner.” Lisa tossed her answer over her shoulder, turning away with CeCe.
“I mean, with me,” he added.
She never broke her stride as she looked at him. “I wouldn’t dream of putting you out.”
“You wouldn’t be,” he called after her.
But she was already hurrying across the street, her hand firmly wrapped around CeCe’s, leaving him to stand in the doorway of the station, feeling a little confused, rather like an adolescent who had just been rejected by the prom queen. It wasn’t anything he knew from firsthand experience.
“First time for everything, eh, Walker?”
He thought he was alone on the floor, having left the others in a hot poker game in the main room upstairs. Surprised, he turned around and saw Jack Riley standing next to the truck, laughter in his eyes. He and Riley went way back to a time when both their voices were higher and their permanent teeth hadn’t come in yet.
He might have known this would amuse Riley.
“Though I’d never thought I’d see the day when a woman would turn you down.” Jack laughed to himself, coming forward. “Hell, my mother would go out with you if you just showed a little interest.”
Closer than brothers, they had trained together and signed on for the same station when the time came. Bryce hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, still watching Lisa and CeCe.
“No offense, but I’m really not interested in having my neck separated from shoulders by your father.” There was no disguising the affection he bore for both of Riley’s parents. Riley’s father had been his own father’s best friend, and had willingly taken on the role of surrogate father to Bryce and his younger brother when they’d needed one.
Joining him in the doorway, Riley studied the departing form that had caught his friend’s attention. “Doesn’t look like your usual type.”
Bryce raised a brow. “Meaning?”
“Well, for one thing, she’s got a kid.” Riley knew better than anyone how Bryce felt about family. He paused, taking a different route than the obvious. “How do you know she’s not married?”
CeCe turned at the island and waved at Bryce. He waved back. “Her daughter didn’t mention a father.”
Riley shrugged carelessly. “Doesn’t mean one doesn’t exist, Walker. Maybe she’s just mad at him.”
Bryce merely shook his head. He watched as, reaching the opposite street, Lisa and CeCe make their way to the second house from the end of the block. Funny how he’d missed the moving truck earlier. Now that he was aware of it, it was as obvious as an elephant standing in a front yard.
“You had to be there,” he told his friend.
“Sorry I wasn’t.” Riley leaned over a little farther as the woman waved over four burly men in beige coveralls. The latter came trotting over obediently. He would, too, Riley thought. “Nice rear view.”
Bryce knew Riley meant nothing by the comment. Riley was all talk and as honorable as the day was long when it came to women’s feelings. Still, he couldn’t help the rejoinder that came to his lips. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
Riley grinned. “Only when she insists on it. Do I detect a chivalrous note coming through?”
Bryce saw another woman hurrying to Lisa, her arms outstretched. CeCe leaped into them. That had to be G-Mama, he decided. “No more than usual.”
“Oh, but this one’s a little different than usual,” Riley observed. “Like I said, she doesn’t seem to be your type.”
The reunion over, the three women went into the house. Bryce turned away. “And my type being?”
“Stringless. Absolutely stringless.” Riley nodded toward the house. “In case you didn’t notice, this one looks like she’s full of strings.”
Maybe he had been paying a little too much attention just now. Bryce laughed it off. “Hey, don’t get carried away, Riley. As you so delicately pointed out, the lady doesn’t even want to have dinner with me.”
Riley knew Bryce better than that. There wasn’t a time he could remember Bryce being easily put off. “Do I detect the call of a challenge?”
It was time to change the subject. Bryce indicated the rooms upstairs. “No, but I can see the dinner bell going off and ten hungry firefighters deciding to string you up because you didn’t make dinner when it was your turn to cook.” He flicked his thumb and forefinger at the date on the calendar that graced the side wall. Riley’s name was written in in the appropriate space.
Riley dragged his hand through his wayward chestnut-colored hair. “Hell, I forgot about that.” He caught his lower lip between his teeth as he looked up at his friend. “The refrigerator still empty?”
Bryce looked at him innocently, as if he didn’t know what was coming. As if they hadn’t danced this dance before a number of times. “Last I looked.”
Riley raised his eyes hopefully to Bryce’s face. The latter’s expression was deadpan. “You wouldn’t want to take my turn, would you?”
“I took your turn,” Bryce reminded him. “Last time, remember? And the time before that,” he added before Riley could protest. “The men are beginning to think you can’t cook.”
Riley sighed. He knew his limitations. “The men are right.”
Riley’s mother ran a restaurant and her cooking attracted people in droves. How this talent hadn’t been passed on was beyond Bryce. Even he had picked up a considerable number of pointers during the years he and his brother had lived with the Rileys. Riley, however, was just slightly beyond the boiling-water-without-burning-it-stage with no progress in sight. “No time like the present to learn,” Bryce commented.
Riley gave him a dark look. “That’s not what you’ll say when you’re at the hospital, having your stomach pumped.”
Bryce glanced over his shoulder toward the doorway, impulse pushing forward an idea. “Tell you what, I’ve got a few things to pick up at the grocery store myself. I’ll do the shopping for tonight. But then you’ve got to do the rest.”
It was only fair, he knew, the men each taking turns. But Riley really wished they’d give the assignment to someone who was better at it than he was. “Get something simple.”
“You read my mind.”
Riley watched his friend leave and thought of the expression he’d seen on Bryce’s face when the woman had turned down his offer.
“Only part of it, Walker,” he murmured to himself. “Only part of it.”
Bryce tucked the coloring book that was beginning to slip back more securely under his arm.
It wasn’t like him to go where he wasn’t wanted so he wasn’t altogether certain just exactly what he was doing here, standing on Lisa Billings’s doorstep, ringing her doorbell, flowers in one hand, a bag with a loaf of bread in the other and a coloring book tucked under his arm. There was also a broom leaning against the wall where he’d rested it.
He had a number of excuses ready to offer her when she asked, but explaining it to himself was a whole different matter. He wasn’t sure if he could.
It wasn’t as if he lacked female companionship. Now or ever. As Riley enjoyed ribbing him, he had more than his fair share of women ready to make themselves available to him.
There was no conceit involved. Bryce figured that women were attracted to the uniform and to resistance, both of which he possessed. He’d been a firefighter for eight years and as for the other, that had been an ongoing thing from the very first time he ever kissed a woman. He wasn’t interested in commitments and forever. He was already committed to his work and because of that, it precluded any other long-term relationships that might be headed to the altar. Any woman he ever went out with knew he was not the marrying kind. Not from any desire to remain free or to sample as many women as he could, but from a very humane standpoint. He’d been thirteen years old when his father died in the line of duty, sacrificing his life while trying to save two children from being burned to death. And then Bryce had watched, day in, day out, what that sacrifice had done to his mother. It took away the laughter from her eyes and for a while, had sent her into a depression so deep, nothing and no one could reach her.
Even when she recovered, she was never the same after his father died.
To him, marriage was a pledge in which two people promised to live the rest of their lives together. It was only natural to assume that life would be for as long a time as could possibly be managed. That didn’t mean taking on burning buildings on a regular basis, which was what he did for a living. A firefighter risked his life every day, risked the happiness of those he loved every day, pitting his life against a force of nature. And sometimes, he lost. The way his father had.
The tears Bryce saw in his mother’s eyes for a full year following his father’s death at the age of thirty-four made him silently vow never to put anyone through what his mother had suffered.
Since his heart had been set on being a firefighter from the very first time his father had brought him down to the station, Bryce thought it only right to make a choice. A home and family, or a career, but not both. So he followed one dream and gave up the other. Most of the time, it seemed like a fair tradeoff.
But every so often, he caught himself wondering what it would have been like if he had followed the other path. If he’d gone into engineering homes instead of saving them, or harnessing nature instead of battling it.
Talking to CeCe had made him wonder again. But he told himself that it was only a passing thing and that coming here this evening, after he’d gone off duty, was merely motivated out of a sense of neighborliness.
He rang the doorbell and waited. There was no response on the other side of the door, no music coming through an open window, no sound of shuffling. Maybe they’d gone out to get something to eat, he speculated. The moving van and its four men was gone.
Deciding to give it one last try, Bryce reached for the bell again when the door abruptly opened. Instead of Lisa, he found himself looking down at a woman who could have been mistaken for a slightly older version of the woman. Rather than shorts, she had on a sundress and her short, stylishly cut dark blond hair had a ribbon of gray running through it.
But she looked up at him with Lisa and CeCe’s blue eyes. “Yes?”
“I’m not sure if I have the right house, but do Lisa Billings and her daughter, CeCe, live here?” Even if he hadn’t been certain that he had the right house, one look at the woman would have assured him that he did. Still, it seemed a good enough way to begin.
Cecilia took swift measure of the handsome young man at the front door. She made decisions quickly. In her life, there hadn’t always been much time for debating.
She liked his mouth. The lines around it indicated that he was given to smiling frequently. It was a good trait. And his eyes were kind. You could tell a great deal about a man by his eyes. Her husband had had kind eyes. CeCe’s father hadn’t, but she’d found it a difficult thing to convey to Lisa at the time. You had to let your children make their own mistakes, no matter how much it pained you to watch.
“Yes.” Cecilia saw the broom leaning against the wall. The young man seemed to come with an odd assortment of things. He was holding flowers in his hand and there was some sort of thin book held flat against his side by his arm. She couldn’t begin to guess what he had in the bag. “You are selling brooms, perhaps?”
Bryce shifted his weight. It wasn’t often he felt self-conscious. “No, I—”
Curious who her mother was talking to, Lisa hurried over to the open door. “Who is it, Mother?” Peering around the door, she stopped short. “Oh God, it’s you.”
Intrigued, Cecilia stepped back from the doorway, allowing the visitor better access. “You know him?”
She hadn’t expected him to actually come over, Lisa thought. He must have watched her leave with CeCe. “It’s the fireman I told you about, the one who I found with CeCe.”
Interest transformed into something akin to pleasure. A smile bloomed on Cecilia’s face as she took hold of his wrist, drawing him into the house. “Ah, please come in, yes?”
Lisa’s immediate response was, “No,” but it was already too late. Her mother was shutting the door, after pulling the firefighter inside.
Chapter Three
There’d only been just enough time for him to grab the broom before Bryce had found himself being pulled into the house by the diminutive woman who had clamped her hands around his wrist. She was surprisingly strong, given her size.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said obediently, trying not to laugh. Obviously her mother and her daughter were a lot freer spirits than Lisa Billings was.
Out of the corner of his eye, Bryce saw CeCe come running into the room. The moment she saw him, she clapped her hands together in pure delight. Her grin was wide and welcoming.
Unlike, he noted, her mother’s expression. Nobody had to tell him that Lisa wasn’t happy about this turn of events, or the lack of immediate support she had.
CeCe fairly bounced in front of him, her eyes shining. “Hi, Bryce.”
Lisa didn’t want CeCe getting too friendly with the intrusive firefighter, even if this was just a onetime visit.
“Mr. Walker,” she corrected.
A little of the sunlight in CeCe’s eyes abated. Bryce was quick to wave Lisa’s admonishment aside. Too many children called him by his first name for CeCe to be singled out this way.
“That’s too much of a mouthful for someone her size, Lisa. Bryce is fine.”
Lisa didn’t like him calling her by her first name. It made this conversation entirely too personal. Besides, she had the feeling that he was conveying more to her than just a name preference when he said that Bryce was fine, but there was no way she was about to allow herself to be drawn into any sort of wordplay over that.
In the larger scheme of things, it was all a moot point. It wasn’t as if the man was going to be someone they interacted with on a regular basis. As soon as she managed to usher him on his way, she didn’t expect to ever see Bryce Walker again, barring a fire somewhere in the immediate area.
But before she could say anything, her mother was taking charge of the situation.
“Well, then, Bryce,” Cecilia said, smiling at him, “we were just about to sit down to dinner. Perhaps you will join us?”
For a second, the air left her lungs. Lisa felt completely outflanked. She knew from experience that sending her mother a glaring look would be utterly wasted on the woman, so she didn’t even bother—as much as she wanted to.
Instead she drew herself up and sent the withering look in Bryce’s direction. The last thing she needed at the tail end of a trying day was an invasion by an unwanted guest, no matter how handsome he was.
“I’m sure Mr. Walker has to be somewhere else, Mother.”
He returned the withering look with a long, slow appraisal that started at the top of her head and wound its way down to her bare toes. Lisa felt as if she suddenly had nothing on and felt all the hotter for it.
“No,” he assured her quietly, “as a matter of fact, I don’t.”
Triumphant, Cecilia hooked her arm through Bryce’s. She looked back at her daughter. “See?”
A thread of satisfaction wound through her words that she didn’t bother to hide. As far as Cecilia was concerned, Lisa had been hiding behind her work and her family in an effort to barricade herself away from the rest of the world and deny the fact that she had a heart that could still be hurt. If nothing was risked, nothing was gained.
Cecilia glanced at the broom Bryce was still holding. “By the way, what is all this you bring with you?”
“Yes,” Lisa seconded the question, her eyes sweeping over the bag he held in his other hand. “Just why are you dragging a broom around? Are you moonlighting as a broom salesman?” Maybe if she insulted him, he’d go away.
But instead of being insulted, he flashed a grin at her. “You and your mother think alike.”
Not hardly, Lisa thought, swallowing a groan. To her surprise, he presented the broom to her.
“It’s for you. A housewarming gift,” he explained when she only stared at it.
She raised her eyes to his face, wondering what he was up to. “I already have a broom. And a vacuum cleaner,” she added, in case he had one waiting in his car.
“Lisa, if the man wants to give you a broom, you must be polite and take it,” Cecilia told her kindly, taking the broom from Bryce as if he had just presented her with the crown jewels of England.
Bryce couldn’t read Lisa’s expression, but he figured he could take a calculated guess what was going on in her mind. Being a firefighter made him sensitive to highly volatile situations.
Time to defuse the moment, he thought. “Actually it’s an old tradition.” Lisa looked at him blankly. “The broom’s symbolic,” he told her. “You give someone moving into a new home a broom to sweep away any evil spirits that might still be lurking around, left over from the old tenants. And the loaf of bread—” he handed the bag he’d brought to Lisa “—is so that you never go hungry.”
She vaguely remembered hearing or reading about the tradition. But Bryce didn’t strike her as the kind of person who went in for old-fashioned customs. Looking at him uncertainly, she glanced inside the bag. It was a loaf of bread all right. Closing it, she looked at the bouquet he was still holding.
“And the flowers? What are they for?”
This part was a last-minute inspiration. As her mother watched approvingly, he offered the flowers to Lisa with a flourish. “To make you smile.”
“Oh.” It was a simple bouquet of daisies, but it left her flustered and at a loss for words. Her mouth curved slightly without her even realizing it as she accepted the bouquet and looked down at the clustered, bouncy petals. Daisies, to pick apart one by one, murmuring “he loves me, he loves me not.” “I see.”
“It works!” CeCe announced with enthusiasm, grinning broadly. Then the grin began to fade away as she looked skeptically at the broom her grandmother was holding. She lowered her voice in a hushed whisper, inclining her head toward Bryce. “Does that mean we have evil spirits to sweep away?”
He saw the beginning of fear in her eyes. He’d meant to charm the mother, not frighten the daughter.
“They’re all gone already,” he told her solemnly. “It’s the fire department’s job to send any evil spirits packing a whole month before anyone new moves in. This—” he tapped the handle with his finger “—is just to remind them to stay away. Forever.”
“Oh.” Relieved, CeCe released a sigh that seemed twice as large as she was.
“Hey, I almost forgot. This is for you.” With a gesture every bit as grand as the flourish he’d used to present the flowers to Lisa, he awarded the coloring book he had tucked under his arm to CeCe. “It’s all about different fire trucks.” He winked at her. “Something the department keeps around for Bedford’s future taxpayers.”
She hugged the thin booklet to her, pleased to be remembered. “Mommy, where are my crayons?”
“We’ll find them after dinner.” Otherwise, Lisa knew that there would be no prying CeCe away from the coloring book until she was finished.
It suddenly occurred to Bryce that he hadn’t brought anything to give Lisa’s mother. Admittedly, the woman had not been on his mind when he was planning his strategy. He turned to her now a tad sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t bring anything for you.”
“Oh, but you did, Bryce,” Cecilia replied with a soft smile he could only wish would grace her daughter’s lips. The smile filtered into her eyes, putting him completely at ease. “You brought me your company. Now, how do you feel about pierogi?”
Unfamiliar with the word, he could only shake his head. “I’m afraid I don’t have any feelings about it one way or another.”
“You will,” Cecilia promised, patting his arm. “In time.” She gestured toward what looked to be the dining area. “Now, you and Lisa go sit and wait. CeCe and I will bring the food. You are in for a treat.” Cecilia winked, then taking the bag with the loaf of bread from her daughter, she commandeered her granddaughter’s attention. With a nod of her head, she led the way into the kitchen. Leaving Bryce and Lisa alone.
Awkwardness descended immediately, draping itself heavily on her shoulders. Lisa wished her mother had let her be the one to bring in the meal, but she knew better. This whole scene couldn’t have been playing itself out any better than if her mother had written it all out with specific stage directions.
Taking a deep breath, Lisa told herself she’d get through this. Abruptly she turned toward Bryce. “My mother worked at an embassy overseas when she was younger, she never completely got over ordering people around.”
“I think she’s great,” Bryce said. Cecilia reminded him a little of Riley’s mother, a woman who had been closer to him in his adolescent years than his own mother had been.
Lisa nodded, acknowledging the compliment. “Most people do,” she remarked. “You really don’t have to stay, you know.”
He studied her face, trying to sort out her signals and his own wishful thinking. “Is that your polite way of saying get lost?”
She caught her tongue between her teeth, fighting the urge to tell him just that. She didn’t need a bone-meltingly good-looking man putting ideas into her mother’s head just by his very presence. Her mother was incorrigible enough as it was, ceaselessly promoting the idea that she should get back out there amid the sharks and swim until she found someone special to swim through life with.
As if that was ever going to happen.
To find someone she had to be looking. And she wasn’t. Having her heart kicked in once was more than enough to teach her the pitfalls of wearing her heart on her sleeve. Of loving one man to distraction and placing all her faith, all her hopes and dreams into his careless hands.
She had loved Kyle, but he had loved his freedom even more. Watching him walk away, walk away from her and the promise of the family that was to be, was something she knew would remain with her for the rest of her life. She wasn’t about to put herself into the position of experiencing that again even in the remotest sense.
Still, since Bryce had been exceptionally kind to her daughter and mother, it wouldn’t kill her to be nice, she reasoned. Besides, if she sent him away now, before dinner, she knew her mother would never let her hear the end of it.
So Lisa resigned herself to suffering through the next hour or so. “If I wanted you to get lost,” she informed him tersely, “I would say so.”
“Glad to hear it.” He waited until she walked into the dining room, then followed behind her. “So, what’s this pier—pier—” Fumbling for the word he hadn’t quite grasped, he looked at her for help. Amusement curved her mouth. He had a feeling she liked him at a disadvantage. “Help me out, here.”
“Pierogi. It’s the Polish answer to ravioli,” she elaborated.
He pulled out a chair for her. “You’re Polish?”
“Yes, anything wrong with that?” She sat down and allowed him to push the chair in for her. The next moment, she felt her pulse scrambling as he lowered his face next to hers. She could have sworn she felt his breath along her cheek.
“Not a thing.” He saw the pulse in her throat jump as her jaw tightened. Bryce smiled to himself as he straightened again. Nice to know a graceful body like hers wasn’t entirely sculpted out of ice. “It’s just that Billings doesn’t sound very Polish.”
Her eyes were cold as he rounded the table to sit down.
“Billings was my married name.” She’d toyed with changing it back to her maiden name, but there was CeCe to think of. The little girl was incredibly bright, but she was still a four-year-old with a four-year-old’s emotions. Having a different name than her mother might be too confusing for her at this point.
“Was,” he echoed. So his guess had been right. But he pushed the envelope a tiny bit further. “As in—I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes by being here?”
His eyes were just a little too green, a little too warm for her. “Would you care?” Lisa asked.
He had his principles and that included never cutting in on another man’s territory once it was staked out. “Very much so.”
Honor was not the first word she thought of when Lisa thought of men in general. She’d learned the hard way that men like her father didn’t exist anymore. They were far too practical. “Why? Because it would get you into a confrontational situation?”
She was the one who was looking for a confrontational situation, he thought. “Because I socialize with married women in a different way than I socialize with unmarried women,” he told her amiably. And then he leaned forward and asked, “Do you find it gives you a backache?”
Her brows narrowed. She had no idea what he was talking about. “What does?”
Bryce nodded toward her shoulders. “That huge chip you’re carrying around on your shoulder. I’d imagine it might make you stoop a lot less if you weren’t lugging it around into every conversation.”
He’d never seen blue lightning flash before. He did now, in her eyes as she drew herself up, a pugnacious tilt to her head. “I don’t have a chip on my shoulder. I’m just careful. And suspicious.”
Something stirred within him and Bryce knew that Riley had been right. He did love a challenge. Any challenge, but particularly one that came dressed in white cuffed shorts and a tank top made for stirring up erotic fantasies in his mind. He leaned in closer to her. “Of people in general, men specifically, or just me?”
Her gaze never wavered as she met his head-on. Only her stomach did a minor flip-flop, but that was for her to know and him not to find out, she thought. “No, maybe and yes.”
He was game. “Why me?”
She would have thought that easy enough to see. “Why are you here?”
He repeated the offer he’d made earlier, in the fire station. “I thought that since you were new in the neighborhood, I’d offer my services.”
Lisa had to concentrate to keep her skin from feeling as if it were tingling, responding to the way his eyes seemed to caress her—while an all-too-knowing smile graced his lips. “What kind of services?”
“Any kind you’d like.” Sitting here in her dining room, it occurred to Bryce that he would very much like to discover what kissing her would be like. He had more than a hunch that the lady wasn’t nearly as cool as she was trying to pretend. “I’m handy with my hands.”
She tossed her head, needing to do something to keep from sinking, knee deep, into the look in his eyes. “I just bet you are.”
“Bet he is what?”
Lisa’s head snapped up, whirling in the direction her mother’s voice was coming from. She hadn’t even heard either her mother or her daughter enter the room. CeCe was right behind Cecilia carrying another place setting for the table. Her mother had her hands full, bringing in a huge platter of pierogi. It was still steaming, with whiffs of heat rising up from the melting pats of butter.
It occurred to Bryce that both mother and grandmother were placing a great deal of faith in the child’s equilibrium. Rising, he quickly crossed to the little girl, reaching for the place setting. “Thanks, CeCe. I’ll take it from here.”
CeCe surrendered the plate and silverware without a word. But the look in her eyes said it all. It was obvious to Lisa that her daughter was completely smitten with Bryce.
Lisa didn’t like what she was seeing here. Her mother was taking all this in and, from the look in her eyes, giving Bryce points. And it was clear that CeCe was already crazy about him. That made it two against one if he decided to make another appearance on her doorstep anytime soon.
Blowing out a long breath, all Lisa could do was hope that she could put him off from trying.
“Bet he is what?” CeCe repeated, looking from her mother to Bryce.
The kid was a sponge, Bryce thought. And probably part bull terrier. He’d be willing to bet that once she latched on to something, she didn’t give up until she got what she was after.
“Handy with my hands,” he told her.
“Like how?” CeCe asked eagerly. She was quick to take the place right beside him at the table. “Can you do tricks?”
“I don’t know about tricks,” he confided even as he produced a coin from behind her ear and then presented it to her. “But I can pretty much repair anything that needs fixing.”
Her eyes as big as saucers, CeCe took the coin from him, staring at it as if he’d just handed her magic in a solid form.
“Wow.” Clutching the coin to her, afraid it might disappear, she looked at her mother. “Did you see that, Mommy?”
Lisa cocked her head, studying their guest. Wondering just how much more there was to Bryce Walker than met the eye. She still had no idea why he’d planted himself on her doorstep. It wasn’t as if she’d encouraged him in any way. The girl within her who had flirted and taken life at face value had long since died. Reality had done that. Reality and Kyle.
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Marie Ferrarella
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: When Lisa Billings swept into Bryce Walker′s fire station looking for her missing daughter, he was smitten with the enticing single mother. The handsome firefighter had long ago realized that white picket fences and parent-teacher meetings weren′t meant for a man who risked his life on a daily basis.But Lisa and her little girl made him yearn for the dreams he′d put aside….Bryce was six feet of temptation-in-a-uniform, but Lisa cautioned herself to watch her step. Yet her heart and her soul-and her body-didn′t heed her warnings…not when tall, strong and sexy Bryce made her feel like a woman again!