by Kathryn Shay
He thought he might die.
But he swallowed hard and, with the edges of the medal digging into his closed fist, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. In a voice like granite he said, “I love you enough to work it out, Chels. I’m sorry you don’t feel the same way.”
Then he turned and walked out of her house, quietly shutting the door for the last time.
A WEEK LATER, Chelsea pulled her Camaro into the Quint/Midi Twelve parking lot. She sat unmoving for a moment, then drew a deep breath. So many homes she’d had and lost. This was just another one. In the rearview mirror, she saw Beth’s Accord and Delaney’s Miata draw up behind her. Shaking her head, Chelsea got out of the car. “What’s this—reinforcements?”
A long white dress swishing around her ankles, Delaney exited her car and descended on Chelsea like an avenging angel. “Yep,” she answered, and kissed Chelsea’s cheek. “You didn’t think I’d let you face the enemy alone, did you?”
“They’re not the enemy, but I appreciate the gesture.”
Delaney snorted and turned as Beth and Francey approached.
“Hi. Ready to bite the bullet?” Beth asked.
“Yes.” Chelsea frowned. “You didn’t have to come. I don’t need an entourage to sign a few papers.”
It was Francey’s turn to frown. “You need support, Chels.”
Chels.
“What I need is to get this over with.” Chelsea scanned the parking lot and winced. “They’re not gone. All their cars are here.”
“Who?”
“My group. I mean, Group Three.”
“Dylan came in for the next shift,” Beth said. She slid an arm around Chelsea’s shoulders. “Your group must have waited to say goodbye, honey.”
Feeling the familiar whirlpool of emotions well inside her, Chelsea said only, “They’re entitled, I guess.”
“They’re not entitled to anything,” Delaney snapped.
“Let’s go,” Chelsea said to forestall that discussion. All she needed was a scene.
The women entered the station house in force. Expecting the usual hustle of the firehouse shift change, Chelsea was surprised to see the bay empty. The trucks were out.
As if on cue, a line of uniformed men exited the station. First came Chief Talbot. Then Ben Cordaro. Finally Reed Macauley. They looked liked they were headed to the gallows.
“What’s he doing here?” Delaney asked, nodding to Reed.
“Dad didn’t say he’d be here, either,” Francey commented.
Beth edged them forward. “Well, let’s stop being shrinking female violets and ask.”
They met the men head-on. “Hi,” Chelsea said. “Is something happening I don’t know about?”
Chief Talbot told her, “No. Cordaro and Macauley came for moral support.”
She caught Ben’s gaze and read the steady fatherly message in it. He and Reed had come for Jake. Chelsea was glad.
Talbot looked at her. “You sure you won’t reconsider, Firefighter Whitmore? We could talk about a staff or academy job.”
Reconsider? She’d had some second thoughts about resigning and about Jake’s actions and why he’d done them. But she’d pushed them aside. She didn’t want to think about any of that.
“No, those aren’t options. This is best. Thank you for offering, though.”
“Shall we do this in the watch office?”
“Yes.” She scanned the bay. “And fast, if you don’t mind.”
Chelsea went into the watch room. Images arose like dreams she couldn’t control. Jake the first day. I can understand why you’re cautious. But for the record, I find your attitude unnecessarily defensive. The night she’d given him the captaincy exam papers. You know what? I think you’re a coward. Even Catwoman…so many memories. Her eyes misted.
Talbot was efficient. Within minutes, she’d signed away her past for an uncertain future. He said, “I’m sorry about all this, Chelsea.”
She fought back the emotion. “Yeah, me, too.”
Barely able to shake hands, she turned and left the office.
In the bay she stopped short. Don, Peter and Joey were just outside the door, soldiers standing at attention. A few feet away, Ben and Reed flanked Jake.
He looked sad. He looked tired. He looked so good she wanted to throw herself into his arms. Instead, she approached her crew. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”
“You thought wrong, Whitmore.” This from Huff. His features were taut. “About a lot of things.”
“Jeez, Chelsea, don’t do this.” Don’s face was grim.
Joey stared at her.
“It’s done.” She smiled. “I’m gonna miss you guys.”
She started with Peter. Reaching up, she gave him a big hug. “Stay cool, buddy.”
“Always,” he said, and held on for a minute.
Don’s embrace was warm. “Vaya con Dios,” he said.
When she came to Joey, he pushed away from the wall and picked her up and hugged her. “This sucks big-time,” he whispered.
“Hey, I’m gonna see you. At the gym.”
Putting her down, he nodded.
Drained from the emotional encounter, she turned. She knew she had to face Jake. She just wished they didn’t have an audience. She felt like she was on stage. What could he be thinking to have made his goodbye so public?
Jake watched her approach and felt his gut clench at the look on her face. He had to smile, though. She wore a white islet curve-hugging sundress that set off her tan. And strappy sandals. Feminine, frilly, so unlike the firefighter she was.
She shook hands with Reed and hugged Ben.
Then she stood before him. She extended her hand.
“I don’t think so,” he said gruffly, and encircled her with his arms. She felt so right, so much his he wanted to toss her over his shoulder like a caveman and drag her out of the bay. Instead, he held on, kissed the top of her head, then let her go. When she drew back, her eyes were watery and she didn’t speak. Instead, she turned and walked away from him.
He let her get halfway across the bay before he called, “Hey, Whitmore?”
She froze, and her hands balled into fists.
“Turn around, love.”
She did. Slowly.
Surer than he’d ever been in his life, Jake crossed his arms and said loudly, “You can leave if you want, but it’s not over.”
Her mouth opened. “Jake…”
“I know, I know. You think nobody should know about this. But you’re wrong.” He made sure he projected his voice.
There was a stirring among the women behind her, and the crew mumbled. He felt Talbot shift uneasily beside him.
“I want everybody to know about us. I’m done hiding it. I love you, Chels. I’m not letting you go without a fight.” Hell, he’d do battle with the devil before he’d surrender.
She closed her eyes as he crossed the distance between them. Gently he grasped her arms. “You told me once I don’t take emotional risks. How’s this one?”
Looking at him with tear-spiked lashes, she said, “It’s crazy.”
“Good, because I’m crazy. About you.” He rubbed his hands up and down her bare arms. “I’m not letting you go, babe. I know I let you down. And I’m sorry. I overreacted, plain and simple. I should have listened to you. I should have trusted you more. But I was so stuck on what happened with Danny, I didn’t see it.” He grasped her forearms. “Please, Chels. Forgive me for that. For being so stupid.” He swallowed hard. “Say you’ll try it again, between us. Say you love me enough to do that.”
Her lips trembled. Fat tears formed in her eyes. “All right.” She leaned into him. “I’ll try again. I love you, too. I’m not sure I can live without you. I’ve been so miserable.”
He smiled then. So did she.
“That’s my girl.” He reached into his pocket, took out her medal and looped it around her neck. Intimately, he tucked it into her dress. And then, in front of the amazed eyes of the Rockford Fire Depar
tment, he bent his head and kissed her.
EPILOGUE
“TEN, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…” On the large TV screen, the announcer made the traditional count as the lighted ball dropped in Times Square over the crowd on Forty-Second Street.
When the clock struck twelve, Chelsea received a kiss from her husband of three and a half months.
“Happy New Year, love,” he whispered.
She hugged him close. “Happy New Year. I love you.”
He squeezed her. “I’ll never get used to hearing that.”
A Cheshire-cat smile crossed her face; after another brief hug, they turned to greet their guests. All off-duty personnel from the station house, along with some friends and family, had gathered in Jake and Chelsea’s house to bring in the new year—the new millennium.
Chelsea’s mouth dropped as she glanced toward her sister in the corner. Delaney had been sequestered almost the entire evening in the small alcove off the living room—with Reed Macauley. Like opposing lawyers, they’d been gesturing wildly, sometimes raising their voices, always shooting daggers at each other. Which was why Chelsea was shocked to see Reed lean forward, lock his hand around Delaney’s neck and take her mouth in a long, sensual kiss. When Delaney pulled back, she stared at him, then rose abruptly and left the room. Reed went after her.
“What’s that all about?” Jake asked, following Chelsea’s line of vision.
“I have no idea.”
Before they could speculate, the O’Roarkes approached them. Dylan looked spiffy in the slate blue sweater and shirt Chelsea had helped Beth pick out for him. Beth, svelte and sophisticated in a green velour pantsuit, hugged both Jake and Chelsea.
“Happy New Year, Captain Scarlatta.” Dylan smiled broadly at Jake and shook his hand.
“Same to you, buddy. And congratulations, both of you, on your first wedding anniversary.”
Beth and Dylan hugged. Then Dylan whipped out a paper. “This is my swan song for the trivia game. Since you’re such a hotshot in the department now, I’m turning it over to you.”
Grinning like he’d been given a birthday present, Jake grabbed Dylan’s paper. “My pleasure.”
“Dylan,” Beth said, “maybe Chelsea won’t—”
Chelsea interrupted, “I’m fine with it. I love having the guys here.” She nodded to Joey and Don and Peter, who’d gathered in a sitting area across the room. Lucy had come with Don—things were working out for them—and Joey had a gorgeous redhead in tow, but Peter was alone. “As a matter of fact, I’ve got some news.”
Francey and Alex, looking like ads from a fitness magazine in their matching Ralph Lauren burgundy warm-up suits that Alex had gotten them for Christmas, came up behind the O’Roarkes and caught the tail end of her sentence. Francey scowled. “News? Don’t tell me you’re pregnant. Alex will never let me alone about having a baby if you are.”
Alex took her shoulders in a gentle grasp and kissed her hair. “You know you loved having Timmy when Dylan and Beth went to Jamaica after Christmas.”
To celebrate their first anniversary, the O’Roarkes had taken a belated honeymoon—“Where it all started,” Dylan had said, referring to his encounter with Beth at the Templeton’s wedding. Francey and Alex had watched Timmy while they were gone. Chelsea grinned as she thought about the three phone calls they’d made to Jake, frantic when the baby wouldn’t stop crying. Jake had come to the rescue, like a knight in shining armor, and calmed Timmy.
He’d make a good father. Someday.
Jake had gone still at Francey’s question and watched his wife. She was a vision tonight in a black velvet jumpsuit with gold trim; he didn’t have a clue what she was going to say.
“No, I’m not pregnant.” She gave him a private grin that said, Not yet, anyway. “But I do have something to tell you.”
Diana and Ben breezed through the doorway, bearing trays of champagne. Chelsea’s news was tabled while Ben stopped and offered champagne to them all.
“It’s about time,” Jake said to Ben. “You two went out to the kitchen way before midnight to get the bubbly.”
Ben’s face held not a hint of embarrassment. “Yep, we were neckin’ out there.” He kissed Francey’s cheek. “I hope you’re all as happy as we are.”
The three couples smiled.
When everybody had champagne, Jake raised his glass. “I’d like to welcome in the new year and the new century with a toast to my wife, who’s made me happier than anyone or anything in the world.”
“Even the fire department?” Chelsea asked pointedly.
“Even that.” He leaned over and kissed her, surprised she’d bring up the fire department in front of everybody.
At first, contact with the guys, official events and even the softball games had been hard for her. But eventually Chelsea had begun to feel at home with the RFD again, to forget the nightmare of Mick, who’d been hospitalized for a few months and was putting his life back together.
“It’s my turn,” she said, then raised her glass.
Dylan groaned. “Oh, God, now she’s gonna toast him. You guys are so schmaltzy. You act like lovesick teenagers.”
Beth and Francey said together, “You should talk.”
“Nope,” Chelsea told him. “My toast is different.” She nodded to her group. “To the Rockford Fire Department, which,” she said smoothly, “is very lucky to get me back, starting next week.”
Jake nearly dropped his glass. “Really?” he said.
She smiled. “Yep. You’re not the only one who loves the fire department, Captain.”
His gaze flew to Ben. Jake and Chelsea had discussed her return to the department at length; he’d offered to move to another group to accommodate her if and when she decided to return. But nothing had been definite, or so he thought.
“No, you’re not moving,” Ben said, reading his mind.
“And Chelsea’s not going anywhere else but home to Group Three. The brass decided you two handled your issues like pros before you were married, and there’s no reason to think there’ll be problems now.”
Joey said, “Yeah, over at Quint Six there’s a married couple on the same shift.”
“No one’s worried,” Ben added. “Besides, it’s worth a try. If it causes personal or professional problems, we’ll rearrange your assignments.”
Jake hadn’t thought anything could make him happier than he’d been at midnight. But this latest news…Not only did it show the department’s faith in him, but also Chelsea’s unconditional trust.
He felt like somebody had given him a million bucks.
But, hugging Chelsea to him, he glanced around the room at his group, his best friends, Ben and Diana. A million bucks was no match for the special people in his life.
He raised his champagne glass again and smiled broadly. “To all of us,” he said.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-4893-3
Copyright © 2010 Harlequin Books S.A.
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:
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Copyright © 2000 by Mary Catherine Shaefer
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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