The Fireman Who Loved Me (8 page)

“Of course I will. You tell your granddaughter to save me a seat.” Ryan winked at Melissa. “I’m going to go finish up this stew. You like lamb stew, Miz Nelly?”

“I’m sure it’ll be just wonderful.” Nelly patted his hand. As soon as he was gone, she turned on Melissa.

“Melissa, you’re embarrassing me,” she hissed.

“I know. I’ll be okay, I promise. He just . . . took me by surprise.”

“Didn’t I tell you he was something else? Look at Miss Trampy-Pants. She wants all the boys to herself.”

Melissa glanced over at the anchor, who was surrounded by eager firemen. The mob included a big fellow with a belly, Fred the Stud, several men in their twenties and thirties. They were all fit, rugged, muscular guys (except for the big-bellied one), and attractive as hell. But Melissa had to admit, Ryan was in a class by himself.

“I’m going to make sure Ryan stays right next to me.” Nelly cackled. “I’ll turn the fire hose on Ella if I have to. I bet you’re sorry now that he was sick.”

Surprisingly, “sorry” didn’t come to mind. Ryan was gorgeous, but she couldn’t imagine feeling comfortable with him. Not the way she had with Brody. Even though she’d yelled at Brody and he’d yelled back, there still had been a feeling of ease with him. Maybe that was
why
, come to think of it. He hadn’t backed down, and he hadn’t gotten offended. She hadn’t worried about what to say, clearly. And as much as she admired Ryan’s appearance, somehow she had no interest in being kissed by him. When he’d taken her arm to guide her to the bench, she hadn’t felt a flicker of that electric jolt she’d felt with Brody.

Where was Captain Brody? He must have known about this dinner—captains knew that sort of thing, didn’t they? She wondered if he was avoiding her. Fine. She’d just have to enjoy herself with Bachelor Number One.

When Ryan returned, Melissa gave him a beaming smile. He handed them blue plastic cups filled with water, and then sat down, swinging one leg over the bench so he straddled it. Melissa searched for a topic of conversation. It was time to prove she knew how to speak words in a coherent sequence.

“So Fred was saying this is one of the most sought-after fire stations . . . do you like working here?”

Bingo. Ryan’s face lit up. “Love it. We work hard but we have fun too. We play jokes on each other. A couple weeks ago we put Double D’s boots in the freezer, you shoulda seen his face when he stepped into ’em. He jumped around like his socks were on fire. All kinds of shit like that. Cap doesn’t mind, he says it’s good for morale. He says when you’re dealing with life-and-death situations, you have to let out the pressure somehow or other.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” said Melissa. “It’s the same way in the newsroom. Once we moved our anchor’s clock forward, so when he came back from dinner he thought he’d missed the news.”

Ryan threw his head back and laughed. In a dispassionate way, Melissa admired the strong, clean line of his throat. “Good one. I like that. Reminds me of when we sent Vader out for takeout, and when he got back we were all gone. Hiding behind the station, but he didn’t know that. He thought it was invasion of the body snatchers.”

Nelly chimed in and told a story about an April Fool’s prank she had once pulled on her husband, Leon. Before long, the three of them were happily exchanging stories, and Melissa felt as though she’d found a long-lost brother. She even felt comfortable enough to bring up Loudon’s favorite topic.

“So I heard you guys are called the Bachelor Firemen of San Gabriel. What’s that all about?”

For the first time, Ryan looked uncomfortable. The man they called Double D leaned over. “Look around you. All these young studs? Single. I’m the only married one here. Me and a guy on the C shift. Everyone else is ready, willing, and available.” He winked.

“The captain hates it when people talk about it. But it’s true,” said Ryan. “We don’t have a lot of married guys. Cap was, but not anymore.”

“It’s the curse.” Double D glanced around the table and lowered his voice. “The Curse of Constancia B. Sidwell.”

Melissa nearly choked on her sip of water. She couldn’t do a news story about a curse, could she? “Who’s that?”

“Mail-order bride, selected in 1850 by one of San Gabriel’s first volunteer firemen, Virgil Rush. His house used to stand on this very spot. He led a lonely, solitary existence, and hoped Miss Constancia from Boston would be the answer. They corresponded a few times, then she packed up to move West. He met the mail wagon month after month, but she never showed up. Held up by robbers, the legend says. Then she fell in love with the leader of the gang. All the other firemen mocked him. He ended his days bitter and alone, and supposedly his last words were a curse in the name of Constancia Sidwell against all the other firemen, vowing they should have just as hard a time finding love as he did. And to this day, the path of true love pretty much goes off a cliff when it hits this firehouse.”

Melissa was so caught up in the story she barely realized that a hush had fallen around the table. “That’s a great story. Do you have any examples?”

Ryan interjected. “It might also be that we have a lot of younger guys here. They come to Captain Brody to get trained, because he’s the best. Cap says the curse is a load of bull.”

“Yeah? Explain Stan, then,” said Double D.

“Stan? Who’s Stan?” asked Melissa.

“Okay, that’s enough of that.” A commanding voice from the doorway sent butterflies streaking through Melissa’s stomach.

Chapter Eight

D
amn
. The sight of Melissa hanging on Ryan’s every word with her lips parted and her eyes shining did unpleasant things to Brody’s gut. She looked different, her creamy skin flushed pink, her hair in smooth waves. Why had he ever thought she wasn’t beautiful? She was stunning. And Ryan seemed to be glued to her side.

Talking about the damn bachelor fireman curse.

On cue, Stan pressed against his leg.

“Just look at that cute doggy!”

A familiar voice stopped him in his tracks. Good thing, because he’d been about to stalk to the table and swat Ryan away from the girl he couldn’t stop staring at. He wrenched his eyes away from Melissa and blinked at the onslaught of shiny red vinyl. It encased a tiny, curvy woman whom he’d last seen on his TV.

Fred, hovering at Ella Joy’s elbow, jumped to attention. “Captain, look who came tonight. Ella Joy, from Channel Six! Can you believe she’s going to eat with us?”

Ella offered him the kind of smile that said a night in her bed wouldn’t be far off. “Captain, I like the sound of that. Call me Ella.”

“Ella, from the Sunny Side of the News. Honor to meet you, Ms. Joy.”

“It’s my pleasure, I do love to meet my fans.” She touched his arm. “Especially when they’re captains.”

Her seductive flattery had a hypnotic effect on him. “I’m one of the fire captains here. There’s two of us. I’m Captain Brody.”

“He’s the only captain that counts,” said Fred. Brody tore his gaze away from Ella Joy to frown at the kid. “What I mean is . . . he’s higher up than Captain Kelly, and he’s the one on shift right now, so right now, he’s the one who counts.”

“Are you the captain they were telling us about, who’s saved so many lives?” Ella fluttered her eyelashes.

Brody’s frown grew fiercer. “Stud, you’re off tour guide duty until further notice.”

“Oh, you can’t blame him. I am a reporter, you know. Prying information from unwilling sources is my job.”

“You must be very good at it. Who could resist you?” said Brody gallantly.

“Oh you!” Ella hit him lightly on the arm in a gesture straight out of
Gone with the Wind
. “I’m so fascinated to find out what firemen eat for dinner.” She took his arm, pressing it against her breast. “I had no idea you boys cooked for yourselves.”

“It’s either that or starve,” said Brody, escorting Ella to the table as the other firefighters trailed in their wake. “Most firefighters get to be good cooks, out of sheer necessity.”

“We’d make One and Two cook, but they’d kick our asses,” said Fred.

“Fred is referring to our two female firefighters. They’re on different shifts, but they take their turn, just like everyone,” said Brody. He could tell from the way Ella’s eyes glazed over that she had no interest in the station’s female firefighters. She was exquisitely, provocatively beautiful, but already he felt impatient to end his conversation with her.

He stole a glance at Melissa. The glow in her jewel-green eyes had faded. She gave him a cool look. Maybe she was still mad about the other night. He sat down at his usual place at the head of the table. Stan curled up at his feet with his chin on Brody’s shoes. Fred pulled over a chair so Ella could sit next to Brody. He couldn’t think of a polite way to decline. The rest of the crew, jostling for position, settled in.

“We got some fine chefs here at the firehouse,” said Double D. “Hoagie ain’t half bad, if you don’t count the hot dog lasagna he made up.”

Everyone groaned at the memory.

“Stan liked it,” said Ryan.

“Stan likes anything. I caught him chewing on sheetrock the other day,” said Brody.

Melissa finally spoke. “Who is this Stan everyone keeps talking about?”

“Firehouse dog. Named after—” Brody shot Double D a warning look. The last thing he wanted was more of that talk. “ ’Course, we’re always happy when someone else cooks for us,” said Double D, quickly changing the subject.

Ella’s eyes slid over Double D, then back to Brody. Apparently she had no interest in the older, chubbier variety of fireman either. Suddenly she grabbed his shoulder, so tightly he winced. “I just had the most amazing idea. If you all knock my socks off with this dinner of yours, maybe we’ll make a competition out of it! Melissa, what do you think? Melissa?” She leaned forward to call down the table to Melissa, who had turned back to Ryan.

Of course. Ella Joy wanted Ryan’s attention on her. Brody wondered if he could get Ella and Melissa to trade seats. What were she and Ryan whispering about down there? She sure wasn’t yelling at him about football and country music.

Then again, Ryan wasn’t yelling at her about BMWs. God, he’d screwed things up. He had no business being around a beautiful, smart woman like Melissa. But sitting here watching Ryan put the moves on her—that qualified as torture.

M
elissa heard Ella call her name. Did she really have to look in that direction again? She already knew what she’d see. Ella snuggled next to Brody as though she owned him. Brody in his captain’s uniform, looking unapproachable and adorable at the same time. She heaved a sigh. Short of hiding under the table, there was no way to avoid the cozy pair.

She gritted her teeth and reluctantly turned to face them. Brody’s dark gray eyes met hers with an unreadable expression. As expected, Ella was plastered to his side.

“Captain Brody,” she purred. “I hope you wouldn’t mind if my producer and I came in and whipped up a little something for your brave boys.”

“Wait, what?” Melissa wasn’t sure she’d heard right. Ella never cooked. Her usual contribution to newsroom potlucks was a chocolate truffle cake from her favorite gourmet bakery. But they couldn’t feed a bunch of hungry firefighters cake.

“We should do our part, don’t you think? We’ll come back and cook these guys a meal they’ll never forget.” Ella winked at Ryan and sent a dazzling smile his way. Melissa gazed from one beautiful face to the other, two pairs of blue eyes flirting down the length of the table. So that’s what was going on. Ella had all kinds of ways of grabbing a good-looking man’s attention.

A general cheer went up among the firemen.

“You’re the best, Ms. Ella Joy,” announced Ryan.

“But wait, Ella . . .” Melissa tried to protest, but shouts of “Ella Joy!” “The Sunny Side,” and “Yee-hah!” drowned her out. Her gaze slid back to Brody’s, and she found him watching her with definite amusement. Her chin went up and she smiled defiantly. “I look forward to it,” she said firmly. It would give her a chance to find out more about this bachelor curse.

Nelly tugged on her sleeve. “Don’t let her win,” she hissed.

Melissa sighed. Grans apparently expected her to hold the attention of the most beautiful man she’d ever seen even though Ella was nearby, taking off the red vinyl gloves. Worst of all, she didn’t want his attention, she wanted someone else’s.

Nelly shouldered her aside and tugged on Ryan’s sleeve. “Could you explain something to an old lady? What happens if there’s a fire tonight?”

Ryan immediately turned back to them and eagerly explained that a certain number of them would have to leap up from the table, jump into their gear (their turnouts were already waiting) and pile into Engine 1 or Truck 1, depending on their roles. “You never can predict when or where the next fire will hit,” he added.

Isn’t that the truth
, thought Melissa.

For the rest of the evening, Ryan devoted himself to the two of them. He refilled their drinks, made sure Nelly had first crack at the choicest pieces of lamb in the stew, and kept an easy flow of conversation going. Melissa knew he was just being polite, but by the end of the dinner, he had earned her undying gratitude. Ryan was a great kid, she decided, under all that star power.

“Kid” being the key word. Brody now . . . Brody was a man. As she chatted and laughed with Ryan, she started to feel almost schizophrenic. It was a mystery how her brain managed it, but somehow she could hear every word Brody said. She felt like a cat, with one ear listening to Ryan, the other swiveled back to catch everything passing between Brody and Ella. Ella laughed at every little thing Brody said, no matter how mundane, and each time, it was like fingernails down a chalkboard to Melissa. She risked a peek back while pretending to look for the salt shaker, and found Brody smiling down at Ella’s perfect face.

Hadn’t he told Melissa
she
had a lovely laugh? Maybe he liked laughs of all sorts.

She viciously shook salt into her stew until Nelly exclaimed in horror. Wonderful. Now she was going to give herself hypertension on top of everything else. She shrugged and reminded herself that this night was about survival, not enjoyment.

“Melissa, you have to fight back,” Nelly whispered in her ear.

“Stay out of it, Grans.”

“I will not.” Nelly raised her voice so the entire table could hear. “Ryan, did you know that my little Melissa used to be the top news producer in Los Angeles?”

“Oh please, Grans . . .”

“You know it’s true. She’s won five Emmys, and once she even went to New York to attend a ceremony. Some people work their whole lives and never even get to work in a big city like Los Angeles.” Nelly darted a pointed look in Ella’s direction. “It’s like going from the minor leagues to the major leagues.”

“So our Ella Joy’s stuck here in the minors, huh?” chuckled Double D.

“That’s a very good way to put it,” Nelly said, as Melissa cringed.

“Oh really?” Ella rose to the bait. “Then what’s Melissa doing here? Maybe she couldn’t hack it in the majors.”

“Melissa came back to take care of her ailing grandmother,” said Nelly with a kind of prim sweetness that Melissa knew was totally out of character.

Melissa could practically hear Ella’s teeth gnash. She couldn’t help admiring the neat trap Nelly had set for Ella, but at the same time, the last thing she needed was a snippy anchor. “Ella could move away in a heartbeat, but she doesn’t want to disappoint all her fans.”

“That’s right. I get calls all the time, but I turn them down because I’m happy where I am.”

“What calls? Name one,” snorted Nelly.

Taken aback by such a direct attack, Ella fumbled. Melissa smoothly came to her rescue. “My old news director in LA used to say our viewers would go crazy if we could get Ella Joy. But our anchors all had contracts, so his hands were tied.” Everett hadn’t actually meant it as a compliment—watching the small-town news feed, they used to laugh at some of her sexier outfits—but it was, strictly speaking, true.

“Melissa
is
a really good producer,” said Ella grudgingly. “She’s worked on some of my best stories.”

“
Your
stories . . .” Nelly spluttered in outrage.

Time for a quick subject change. Melissa turned to Double D, on her other side, and asked him about the scariest fire he’d ever fought.

“Easy!” said Double D promptly, in his booming voice. “The time we got called up to San Berdu to help out with those brushfires. Captain wasn’t with us—they put us under the county guys—”

“We aren’t trained for brushfires,” interjected another firefighter.

“A fire’s a fire. And good sense is good sense. I’m just saying, Captain wasn’t with us, and we ended up getting ourselves trapped, surrounded on all sides by the biggest son-of-a-gun flames we’d ever seen.”

“Tall as skyscrapers,” chimed in Ryan.

“And hot as a horny Catholic girl . . .” Double D caught his captain’s look. “Excuse me, ladies. I mean, extremely hot.”

“So what happened? What’d you do?” Everyone was listening now.

“We clustered together, back to back. How many were there, five, six? Hoagie, you were there. And Vader, Skeet, me, and One. So five of us. We came together, back to back, and just sprayed those flames like there was no tomorrow. We could hardly see an inch, what with the sweat, and the heat from the flames. Couldn’t breathe. Took me a week to be able to say one word afterward. Throat was that sore.”

“So you put out the flames?”

“Lord no. There’s no putting out flames like that. They do what they’re gonna do. No, the captain got a military chopper to come and get us. In the nick of time too.”

Melissa looked over at Brody, who was staring absently at his cup of water. He hadn’t even been there, and he’d saved their lives. “How’d you get the chopper?”

But Ella had already claimed his attention, leaning so her chest rubbed against his arm. “That’s exactly the kind of story our viewers want to hear. Ordinary heroes like you. Please let me do an interview with you, Harry. I would be so very grateful.” The caressing hand on his arm left no doubt as to just how grateful Ella would be.

Brody shook his head. “I don’t do interviews.”

“Maybe you haven’t been asked by the right person yet.”

“If I did one, it would be with you. How’s that?”

“Did you hear that, Melissa? He almost agreed to an interview.”

“But didn’t,” Brody quickly clarified.

“I’ll tell you what. You can look at it when we’re done, and if there’s anything you don’t like, we’ll take it out.”

“We can’t promise that, Ella!” Melissa reminded her. “That’s against our policy.”

“Don’t interfere, Melissa. I’ve almost gotten him to agree.”

“It does sound tempting.” Brody rubbed his jaw. “I sure could make myself look good. Maybe we could even ban certain words and topics from the interview. Say, the word ‘bachelor.’ ”

“Well . . . I guess . . .”

Melissa saw disaster approaching. Giving an interview subject approval of the final cut was against station policy. They could be fired for that, and if someone had to take the fall, it would be her, not Ella. Besides, the word “bachelor” happened to be the one Loudon wanted on the air. She stood up quickly.

“Ella, can I speak with you for a second?” Ella, as usual, ignored her. Melissa watched Ella curl a teasing finger across Brody’s hand, and suddenly couldn’t stand it another second. “Captain Brody, a word in private, please?”

“Certainly.”

Brody extricated himself from Ella’s grasp and followed Melissa into the hallway, the dog trotting at his heels. He closed the door and leaned against it, arms folded.