Chasing the Fire (Backdraft, Fully Involved, Flashover) (17 page)

“Cute name.” She glanced at her watch. “He’s
coming here at eleven for a meeting.”

“Lucky you. Is it about the Christmas
party?”

“Uh-huh. He’s a reluctant co-chair.”

“You can make him more cooperative, Stacey.
Use your feminine wiles on him.”

She laughed out loud. “I don’t have them. I
must have been sick the day God doled them out.”

Cora scowled. “I wish you wouldn’t say that
about yourself. You’re lovely.”

Stacey gave an unladylike snort. “I’m plain,
simple and have never known how to flirt. Funny thing, I didn’t
mind all that.” She glanced away.

“What?”

“Until Jess died. I’m…” She bit her lip,
feeling guilty for even uttering her feelings. “I’m lonely, I
guess. I’d like more in my life. And I’d probably do better out
there in dating land if I was more feminine.”

“You have to
get out
there to do
better, Stace. You give off absolutely no vibes you’re interested
in dating.”

“It’s a recent development. I’m going to my
office. Send Nick Evans back when he comes.”

“Gladly.”

Stacey sat down at her computer and called up
the rare-book icon. An online auction for a first edition of a
Hemingway novel would take place today. Though she hated his
misogynist, self-absorbed stories, collectors paid good bucks for
his work. She clicked into the online seller’s site. Bidding
started at two this afternoon. She’d scribbled down a reminder and
posted it on her computer.

She should do some work on the store
finances, but she leaned back and thought about Cora’s comments.
And the rescue Nick Evans performed. Huh! She did appreciate his
looks. And he had an aura of authority, of command, that she hadn’t
even known she liked in a man.

What the hell? Sitting up, she conducted a
quick search and called up the blog of the Fire Belles. Sure
enough, there was the same picture shown on TV. She read the blog:
our hero…daring save
…what a good guy he was…how he
volunteered at a women’s shelter. They made a point of saying he
worked hard promoting females in the department.

Cora appeared at the doorway. “Stacey, Nick
Evans is here.”

Quickly, she closed the computer and stood.
Smoothing down the black skirt she wore with a plain, white blouse,
she smiled as he came to the entrance. “Good morning.”

He didn’t look tired. He looked as if he’d
just rolled out of bed, and she had to admit, he wore it well. His
hair was mussed and he sported a growth of overnight beard. A navy
T-shirt tucked into beltless blue jeans.

“Morning.”

“Come on in, Nick. Have a seat at the
table.”

“Thanks.” He eyed the pot in the corner. “I’d
sell my soul for a cup of that. Would you mind?”

“Go ahead. And soul selling won’t be
necessary.” His rumpled look—or maybe Cora’s suggestion—made her
think about saying something clever regarding ways he could repay
her, but she kept quiet. See, she
didn’t
know how to
flirt.

He seemed bigger when he sat and gulped back
coffee from the huge mug he’d chosen. And his scent wafted over to
her. He must have showered after the fire and put on some spicy
aftershave. “Sorry I’m such a mess. I literally just woke up.”

“I saw what happened on the news. You could
have called and canceled this meeting.”

“I had no idea I’d sleep so late.” He looked
around. “Very nice in here.” A definite change of subject.

She tried to see the office through his eyes:
posters of women authors everywhere (well, the store was hers!) a
solid-oak desk, a sage-green, microfiber couch. She’d painted the
walls a lighter green and the trim on the one big window white. The
same color scheme and oak wood repeated out in the store.
“Thanks.”

“I didn’t bring my notes with me. I
forgot.”

“No problem.” She crossed to the cabinet in
the corner and pulled out her laptop. When she reseated herself,
she met his gaze. “Before we start, I want to congratulate you. You
actually caught an arsonist?”

He chuckled and the change in his face was
dramatic. And appealing. “Can you believe it? Hell of a thing.”

“My employee told me about the women’s blog.
I read it. They adore you.”

“I try to counteract the anti-female element
in fire departments, though the HCFD is better than most.”

“I saw what they wrote. You also volunteer at
a women’s shelter. Why?”

He shrugged. “I got a little sister,
who…let’s just say, I hate men who abuse women.”

“Where does she live?”

“She moved here when I did. From New York.”
He seemed to study her. “Do you have family in Hidden Cove?”

“Jess’s. I adore them. My parents died and
left me the bookstore. No siblings. But Jess’s family is big, so I
have plenty of sisters and brothers.”

“I’m glad for you.” Nick nodded to the file.
“Where do we start today?”

Stacey regretted the change of subject. She
enjoyed the exchange of personal information. “I thought we’d talk
in global terms of what we want to provide for the kids, then go
from there. It’s in the Academy gym, so we’ll have to decorate. And
the date’s already set. December twelve.” Parker had emailed both
of them the information at the end of the summer.

He sipped more coffee and leaned forward. “We
should probably plan for kids aged four to seventeen. That’s the
range for the camp itself, but of course, we’ll be getting other
children in town for the fund-raiser.”

“I’ve given that some thought, too. Do you
know Faith McPherson? Well, Ruscio now.”

“The name sounds familiar.”

“Her husband’s an ex-cop. Long story
there.”

“Now I remember; he did some henchman work
for Stan Steele years ago.”

“He’s reformed,” she said defensively. “He’s
a real family man.”

Nick held up his hands, arrest style. “Hey,
you’re preaching to the choir. I totally believe in second chances.
So what about his wife?”

“I belong to her father’s church. They’ve had
fund-raisers for the camp. One was a kind of festival, with booths
that catered to a variety of age groups. They haven’t done it for
years, though, because they like to pick new ways of involving
their congregation.”

“Fine by me. We should have a theme
though.”

“I thought about that, too. Maybe we could do
a hero theme. Incorporate real-life heroes like firefighters”—she
nodded to him—“police officers and veterans with classic
superheroes like Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman.”

“Wow.” Those blond brows rose. In person they
were thicker, blonder. “You’ve got this all planned. You don’t even
need me.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, my gosh, did I
overstep? I should have consulted you on the basics. These are only
suggestions. We can—”

“Whoa there.” His grin was wide. Sexy. “I was
teasing.”

Damn it, she
was
rusty. She couldn’t
even tell when men teased her. Rusty, and completely out of her
element with this guy.

An hour later, they were analyzing some
spreadsheets that Stacey had printed off, listing what needed to be
done. Nick reached out to grab a page and accidentally hit the
large mug he’d filled again. It tipped over and coffee splashed
onto Stacey before she could back off. When she did, she pushed the
table hard and upended it; papers flew everywhere.

“Oh, shit,” Nick said. “I’m sorry.”

She laughed. “No use crying over spilt
coffee.” She pointed to the lav. “Want to get some paper towels in
there?”

He rushed to the bathroom and came out
carrying a roll. When he was flush with her, he tore off a few
pieces. Before he gave them to her, his gaze traveled below her
chin. “Want some help with that?” His tone was amused, and his
green eyes sparkled like emeralds as he nodded at her.

She looked down. The white blouse she’d put
on this morning clung to her breasts, outlining the lacy bra she
wore beneath it. She raised her eyes to his and felt a spark of
something arc between them. Her body reacted.

Oh, Lord, he’d know. He’s
seen
.
Covering them up would just draw more attention to the fact that
her nipples had beaded under his perusal.

If she only did know how to flirt. Say
something cool and suggestive.

Instead, Stacey was mortified.

oOo

AS NICK HEADED
to the west side of
the city where his sister lived, he was annoyed with himself. In
the two hours since his meeting about the Christmas party, he’d
been unable to get Stacey Sterling’s body out of his mind. Usually
he preferred petite, pretty and polished in women, but something
had caught his interest in plain, simple Stacey. Though, in truth,
she was anything but. Her hazel eyes were wide set in her face, her
hair a natural mass of curls a woman would pay megabucks for at a
salon. And her body—which had reacted to his perusal in a most
notable way—was lush. Suddenly, Nick liked lush.

Which was about the stupidest thing in the
world. Reaching his sister Kelly’s little ranch house, he pulled
into the driveway and saw her wave to him from the window. Now, his
sister
was
simple. An uncomplicated life was all Kelly
craved these days. She appeared at the door, then came outside
quickly. She also liked order and punctuality. Wearing an ordinary,
blue top and pants that matched, she headed toward him. If he
wasn’t used to it, the face that could stop traffic would shock
him. Her once-long, dark hair was now chin length, and her
almond-shaped eyes and bow mouth gave her an exotic look. But he,
along with Kelly herself, rued her drop-dead-gorgeous appearance,
which she did nothing to enhance. For good reason.

“Hey, Nicky,” she said when she got into the
Bronco. Leaning over, she kissed his cheek.

“Hey, sis.” He started the car and headed to
the interstate for their weekly trek—except when he was on days—to
New York City. “How are you, baby?”

“Chicken pox are over. What more do you need
to know?” Her two daughters were spitfires, much like their mom
used to be. But life had drained the mischief and the innocence out
of Kelly and he’d regret his part in that until the day he died.
“You?”

Time to tell her. “I had a meeting with a
woman who is co-chairing a party with me. The fire department
officers all drew straws. I got the shortest.”

“What kind of party?”

He reached out and squeezed her knee. “It’s a
children’s Christmas party the fire department is putting on to
raise money for Hale’s Haven. Don’t get upset about it.”

She shook her head in that world-weary way
she used to project all the time. “I’m sorry. I know how you feel
about the holiday.”

Shrugging, he ducked his head to see the
overhead, green signs directing him to the Bronx. “Water under the
bridge.”

“We promised we’d always be honest with each
other, Nicky.”

“Okay, I’m pissed I got roped into this. You
know I like to forget about the holiday.”

“Tell me about your coworker.”

Jesus. He felt himself flush. Of course Kelly
caught it. There were few secrets between them. “What? Why are you
blushing?”

“Brother/sister closeness only goes so far,
kiddo.”

“Ha!”

“Okay, I found myself inexplicably attracted
to her. She’s not my type at all, but I felt a…physical thing right
away.”

“Does she feel it too?”

Man, did she. “Yes.”

“How could you tell?”

“I could tell.”

“Nick, don’t sound like you robbed a bank.
You like a woman. That’s good. There haven’t been many women since
your divorce from Lucinda.” Which had separated him from his
daughter Taylor, another thing he regretted. She’d gone to Europe
to live with her jet-setting mother.

“I don’t know Stacey well enough to like
her.” Though he missed having somebody special in his life, she
wasn’t a good choice.

“Then get to know her.”

He shook his head.

“What?”

“She’s Pollyanna. The girl next door. Doris
Day.”

“How old is she?”

“Early thirties, I guess. But you know how
some people just shout
I’m good. I’m sweet. I’m innocent.
That’s her.”

Quiet for a few moments, Kelly finally said,
“You’re a good man, Nicky. You don’t think that, because of what
happened, but if anybody’s at fault, it’s that bastard.”

They rode for a while, then he turned to his
sister. “I know that here.” He pointed to his head. “But my heart’s
not ever going to catch up.”

Kelly didn’t respond. What could she say? She
knew better than anyone he was right.

A half hour later, they pulled up to a
nondescript, three-story house in the Bronx, not far from Yankee
Stadium. No one would ever know from its new coat of paint that
Nick paid for and the fence that he put in what horror those walls
housed. “Ready?”

“Yeah, I love coming to Joshua House.”

“I’m glad, kiddo. Now let’s go make some
spaghetti for the girls.”

She smiled, he smiled, and they headed toward
the house where helping out always made them feel better about what
had happened to them both fifteen years ago.

oOo

“
ARE YOU SURE
you two can handle them
alone?” Faith Ruscio’s beleaguered expression was typical of
mothers. “Only my parents and Rick’s mom and sister have babysat
all four of them.”

Stacey smiled. “Yes, I’m sure we can do
this.”

Jimmy Curtis, who’d been Sam’s best friend,
gave Faith a boyish grin. “We think we can do it. If not, we’ll
lock the two boys in their rooms and play with the babies.”

“What—oh, you’re kidding.”

“Go, now,” Stacey told Faith. “Meet Rick and
have a nice dinner.”

“I haven’t been out on a date with him since
the girls were born. I hope I don’t start to cut his meat.”

“He’ll understand if you do. He’s a great
father, Faith.”

“I know. We need more alone time.”