Everything Bared (Six-Alarm Sexy) (15 page)

Red colored the tips of her ears as her eyes ping-ponged from Jamie to William and back. “Thanks, LJ. That means a lot.”

And once again, William was reminded of how much Danielle enjoyed being a firefighter and a member of the elite technical rescue team, was reminded of how much it was a barrier to a future with her.

One by one, his family hugged Danielle and said their goodbyes. Finally, it was his turn. Reluctance making his feet heavy, he walked up to her, conscious of everyone’s eyes on them. He gave her a chaste hug and bent to kiss her cheek. “I already miss you,” he whispered, for her ears only.

When he pulled back, her eyes were wet with unshed tears. God, he so wanted to give her a real hug, to hold her tight and kiss her goodbye. He wanted to touch her, taste her, have her one last time before she left. Wanted to know she’d be all right, that she
was
coming back. Christ, how had Erica put up with this for five years already?

He gave Coco one last scratch, then handed the leash to Danielle. “Be safe,” he said, his voice like steel dragged over gravel.

“Always.” Danielle waved to everyone. “Thank you for lunch, Caroline.” After a last lingering look at William, a look that left him vibrating with the urge to chase after her, she left.

Shell-shocked by the speed at which this had all happened, William continued to stare at the gate long after Danielle had passed through it. Erica sidled up and put her arm around his waist. “It never gets easier, but they’re worth it.”

His gaze slowly slid to his sister-in-law, to the knowing glint in her eyes. Had Danielle told her about them, or had she guessed? “Excuse me?”

“Being involved with a firefighter isn’t easy. It’s been a constant struggle for me. But I’ve learned a lot of things in the last few months. Dani helped me understand that I couldn’t change Jamie, that I wouldn’t want to even if he were willing. I love the man he is, and that man is a firefighter.”

“Erica, I’m really happy for both of you. But what does any of this have to do with me? Danielle and I are just condo mates.”

She grinned and tapped his stomach. “Sure. But remember, if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you.” Her arm slipped away, and she returned to the table to help Chloe finish her meal. As she chatted and laughed with Jamie, William realized how truly strong she was. How strong she had to be to survive the constant state of not-knowing as the spouse of a firefighter. It wasn’t something he’d ever considered before, even when Erica and Jamie’s relationship had been on the rocks.

Despite having three brothers in the fire service, he’d romanticized it, bought into the hype. Firefighters were heroes, that part was true. Strong, daring, and brave. But their spouses and loved ones were even more so because they were the ones left waiting. And that was the toughest, most gut-wrenching job of all.

Standing alone in his parent’s yard, William accepted another truth: He wasn’t that brave.

Chapter 8

The condo was too quiet. No dog barking. No Danielle laughing or singing in the shower. No smoky scent of soot from her work clothes lingering in the air. William sat in his living room, nursing a scotch, exactly how he had been on that night when Jamie had shown up on his doorstep with Danielle and her animal in tow. But what had seemed blissful peace then, seemed oppressive silence now. William was bored out of his mind.

Danielle had been gone only three days, yet it felt like three months. He went to sleep thinking about her, he woke thinking about her, and he spent every minute of the day thinking about her. With no news other than what was reported on CNN, his brain conjured the worst. He imagined her searching an unstable building and falling through the damaged floor boards. He saw her buried under piles of rubble, heavy chunks of cement, long, sharp sheets of metal siding, live sizzling electrical wires.

Logically, he understood that Jamie would be notified immediately if Danielle were injured… or worse. Still, he couldn’t keep his mind from fabricating increasingly morbid scenarios.

Then there was the utter lack of communication. Why hadn’t she called or at least sent him a text? A quick
I’m okay
would have been enough to reassure him of her safety. Didn’t she know the worry was killing him?

His phone rang, the sound jarring in the absolute silence. He glanced at the caller ID. Danielle? Disappointment curled in his chest when he saw the name. Kathleen. Shit. He hadn’t called her in the ten days since their last date, not since Danielle had moved in. She’d left him a message on Saturday, but after the lunch and Danielle’s abrupt departure, he hadn’t felt like dealing with anyone, much less her. Conversation with that woman required a fine balance between flirtiness and strength. Something he hadn’t been feeling at all that day.

He quickly answered the call. “Good evening, Kathleen.”

“Is it, William? I don’t mean to sound like a bitch, but I don’t appreciate being yanked around. I think we’re good together and I’d like to see more of you. But I don’t want to waste my time or yours if you aren’t interested.”

He cringed, glad she couldn’t see him. Kathleen didn’t raise her voice when she was pissed. No, that would be too crass. Instead, she lowered it and her tone became even softer. He needed to think fast, to placate her. After all, the woman was on his short list of potential wives. “I’m sorry. Things are very busy at work. But that’s no excuse. Let me make it up to you?”

“As a matter of fact, that’s why I’m calling. I’m hosting a charity fundraiser tomorrow for those poor unfortunate people in Texas. Can I count on your support?”

This was something he really admired about Kathleen. She was well-known for her devotion to fundraising. If there was a good cause, she was always ready to help. “Of course, if you’ll agree to accompany me.”

“Well now, that would be a pleasure.” Her tone had softened and he could hear the smile in her voice.

“When shall I pick you up?”

“At six-thirty. Oh, and it’s black tie. I’m looking forward to seeing you again. I’ve missed you, William.”

“So have I,” he lied. “See you at six-thirty.”

As he ended the call, his heart thudded in his chest. He hadn’t missed Kathleen, hadn’t even thought of her once. What did that say about him? Kathleen was the perfect woman for him. As heir to the Bigsby fortune, she had money and connections to everyone who was anyone in Seattle. She was sweet and polite, but there was an undercurrent of steel in her voice, in her posture. She was no pushover. The woman made things happen.

Marriage to Kathleen would be a huge step up for him. With her access to the upper echelons of society, he could take Caldwell Fine Furnishings to the next level. He could make the Caldwell name as widely recognized and respected in the world of furniture as Gucci was in the world of fashion. With Kathleen’s help, anything was possible.

The following evening at exactly six-thirty, he parked in front of the lobby doors to Kathleen’s Olive Way luxury apartment. As he climbed out of his Lexus, a porter approached. “Good evening, sir. May I be of some assistance?”

“William Caldwell. Please let Ms. Bigsby know I’m here.”

“Very well, sir.”

The temperature was unusually warm for Seattle, and sweat started to trickle down his back, between his shoulder blades, as he waited. He enjoyed wearing suits, liked the way they made him feel, but not when it was this hot. After five minutes, he gave up being polite and returned to his car. He set the air conditioning to full-blast and angled the vents to hit him in the face. Fuck. At this rate, he’d smell like a pig before they even got to the event.

Finally, after keeping him waiting for fifteen minutes, Kathleen walked out of her building. He grabbed his door handle to get out and open her door, but the porter, who looked cool enough to cause condensation—the fucker—beat him to it.

Kathleen slid into the passenger seat, her lips pursed. No doubt she was disappointed with his lack of manners. Something else for her to be upset about.
Great start to the evening, Caldwell.

“Have a pleasant evening, Ms. Bigsby. Sir.” With a nod, the porter firmly shut her door.

Kathleen sighed as she buckled her seatbelt. “Good evening, William. Sorry, I kept you waiting. I got a call…” She waved her hand.

“Problem?” At least she wasn’t pissed with him. He should give the poor woman a chance and quit jumping to conclusions.

“Just a last-minute issue with the event. I took care of it.”

He had no doubt. When it came to her charities, Kathleen was a veritable general. William smiled. “You look lovely.” And she did. The forest-green designer dress fit her petite, curvaceous body perfectly, molding her full breasts and round hips, and the high-fashion heels made her shapely legs appear twice as long as they really were. As always, Kathleen was elegant, classy, and very feminine.

She accepted his compliment like she accepted everything: as her due. When he leaned in to kiss her, she turned her head, offering her cheek instead. She didn’t want him to kiss her? “Have I done something wrong? I thought you’d forgiven me for not returning your call.”

With a chuckle, she patted his thigh. “Well, of course you wouldn’t understand. You’re a man.” He continued to stare at her, his brow furrowing. She circled a hand in front of her face. “Make-up. It takes hours to do and almost as long to repair.”

He nodded, resisting the impulse to roll his eyes. “Maybe later then.” Putting the car in gear, he re-entered Olive Way and began the short trip to the 8
^th
Avenue entrance of the Washington State Convention Center. He wasn’t quite certain how to feel about this latest revelation. Kissing him wasn’t worth messing up her lipstick? Didn’t that knock him down a peg.

When he’d kissed Danielle that night on the balcony, and then the following evening too, if she’d been wearing any lipstick, he’d certainly sucked it all off. And
she
clearly hadn’t minded. But Kathleen wasn’t Danielle. She wasn’t spontaneous, or a rebel, and she certainly wouldn’t tie him up. The twinge of disappointment in his chest surprised him. He pushed it away. Danielle was a fantasy, one with an expiration date. He couldn’t forget that.

Shaking his head to clear it of images of the sexy firefighter, he focused on weaving the car through the busy city streets. They drove in companionable silence, Schumann’s
Piano Concerto in A minor
playing softly through the car’s stereo system.

“This fundraiser, it’s a good thing you’re doing, Kathleen.”

She acknowledged him with a regal nod of her head. “I’m pleased to help the rescue efforts in any small way I can.”

When they arrived, he quickly stepped around the car, tossed the keys to the valet, and opened the door to take Kathleen’s hand. Smiling, she placed her fingers in his palm and gingerly set her feet on the red carpet covering the pavement. The move was graceful, and practiced.

She tucked her hand through his arm, and he escorted her inside, shortening his stride so she could easily keep up with him. They entered the large, decorated ballroom. Kathleen was in her element here. Folks by the dozen called her name and came to say hello, barely grazing her cheek as they “kissed.” She never once forgot to introduce him and took great pride in pronouncing him William Caldwell IV, CFO and soon-to-be CEO of Caldwell Fine Furnishings.

Whenever she deemed it strategically beneficial, Kathleen urged him to hand over one of the business cards Larissa had insisted on creating for tonight. It had seemed pompous and presumptuous at the time, but as he fingered the dwindling stack of cards in his pocket, he decided to send Larissa to dinner at Vicenzo’s with her husband. His assistant was worth her weight in gold.

He snagged two champagne flutes from a passing waiter and handed one to Kathleen. “Thank you for inviting me,” he said, gently tapping her glass.

“You’re welcome. It’s good to make connections. You never know when they’ll come in handy.”

“After tonight, I’ll need a larger rolodex.” He winked, but inside, his stomach roiled.
Connections… come in handy.
Was that how all these people viewed each other? Is that how she viewed him? He almost laughed out loud. Unless her home was on fire, his
connections
wouldn’t mean much to her.

Tilting her head, she took a sip of champagne and studied his face. “Don’t doubt yourself, William. In a few years, these people will be begging to be introduced to
you
. You have so much potential: above-average intelligence, superior business acumen, ambition, and you cut a darn fine figure in a suit. You can be anything you want.” She raised a well-arched brow. “With the right woman by your side, of course.”

“Of course.” He lifted his glass to her. Was
she
the right woman? And what if his goals didn’t match hers? When he was no longer useful to her, would she kick him to the curb like yesterday’s garbage?

A few minutes later, dinner was announced. They threaded their way through the tables, stopping for more introductions. By the time he pulled out Kathleen’s chair, his cheeks were sore from keeping his smile in place. They were seated with five other couples. The men, all older, were leaders in the community. He recognized each one from their photos in the paper. Their wives were all younger, beautifully put together, and perfectly insipid. Two of the ladies were also involved in various charities, and Kathleen drew them into a conversation about fundraising strategies.

William had the privilege of sitting next to the oldest of the gentleman, Mr. Howard Ward, a portly fellow with cold black eyes that spoke of his ruthlessness in the boardroom. “I knew your grandfather back in the day. Never met a wilier businessman. Now your father… well, let’s just say, he has a great eye for design.”

Even though the old man was right, William’s hackles rose at the casual insult to his father. He clenched his molars together and resisted giving in to the dig. But William didn’t have a poker face. Sensing he had the advantage, Ward moved in for a second strike. He guffawed and clapped William on the back. “I always thought your mother was too much woman for him. How is the lovely Caroline these days?”