Feel the Heat

by Kathryn Shay

* * *

  In the sultry Caribbean night, Beth Winters took off her shoes and waded into the warm water, the grainy sand squishing between her toes. She'd left the celebration, held in one of the outdoor restaurants, to try to collect her thoughts.

  You're doing all right, she told herself silently. Just a little while longer. It hadn't been too bad. During the ceremony, she was able to keep her thoughts off her own wedding a lifetime ago, and a young boy who loved the water and hot weather and had dreamed of one day visiting tropical islands. Instead, she'd focused on Francey's absolute delight in joining her life with the man she loved. When that wasn't enough, she'd concentrated on her annoyance at being paired up with Dylan O'Roarke.

  When she'd left the reception, he'd been dancing with his date—all the attendants had been encouraged to bring a guest, though only Chelsea and O'Roarke had done so. He'd produced another of what his buddies called Barbie—a tall blonde with seemingly more breast than brains. Though Beth objected to the sexist nature of the comment, the description was apt.

  Truthfully, Beth objected to almost everything about O'Roarke—from his too-long black hair which dipped boyishly into his eyes, to his reckless attitude and behavior.

  "Want some company?"

  Beth turned to find the bride had joined her in the shallow water. She smiled at her friend. Though the sarong was a little mussed and she'd long since parted company with the lilies in her hair, Francey was still gorgeous in the unorthodox wedding attire.

  "Of course, but shouldn't you be at the reception?"

  Francey stood next to Beth and peered over the sea as waves curled around their ankles. "I'll go back in soon. I wanted to look at the water again. I wish we didn't have to go home tomorrow." Francey had frantically juggled her schedule to get the week off for their wedding.

  Beth smiled. She was thinking how good it would be to get back to a routine—a sure remedy for the nostalgia she'd been feeling. This excursion had upset her emotional equilibrium, something Beth didn't like at all.

  Francey's eyes narrowed on her. "You want to go back to Rockford, don't you?"

  "No," Beth lied.

  “You weren’t crazy about coming down here."

  Hesitating, Beth struggled to find truthful words that wouldn't hurt her friend. "I don't go to weddings and things, France." She reached out and squeezed Francey's arm. "But how could I miss this?"

  Francey grinned and didn't probe. That she allowed Beth her privacy was one of the things Beth liked about her and one of the crucial reasons they could be friends.

  "Sorry about you getting paired up with Dylan. I didn't even consider that would happen."

  "That's okay, being his partner didn't kill me."

  "Life’s been so hectic, you and I haven't had a chance to talk. How did the first few days at the academy go with him?"

  Shrugging, Beth said, "Fine. Everyone thinks he'll do a great job."

  "I wish you could know him like I do. He's—"

  "Francesca!" The male voice came from behind them. Alex materialized out of the darkness in rolled-up trousers, the sleeves of his shirt folded back, looking like some golden Greek god born on the foam of the sea. He banded his arms around Francey's waist. "You left me."

  Rolling her eyes, Francey leaned into him and sighed. The chemistry between them almost sizzled. When he began to nuzzle her neck, Beth turned away. Apparently she wasn't out of the woods yet. She took a cleansing breath to banish the ghosts stirred by Alex's embrace of his new wife.

  "Bye, Beth," they both sang out.

  Pivoting, Beth saw that Alex had scooped Francey up and was carrying her toward the restaurant. Beth breathed deeply again, forcing her shoulders to relax, her mind to empty. For twenty years, since she was nineteen, she'd used the technique and become a master at it. When the threat passed, she faced the sea again. And caught a glimpse of a man and woman on the pier. The outline and stature of the woman told her it was O'Roarke's date. A deep masculine laugh and light feminine giggle drifted to her. She watched as the couple slid arms around each other's waists and headed toward the large enclosed hammock for two at the end of the dock. Turning away from the sight, Beth trudged through the water in the opposite direction.

  But she was unable to get O'Roarke out of her mind. She still couldn't quite believe he was going to work at the academy for the next four months. Beth disliked very few people, and the irony of the situation didn't escape her. Usually she didn't let herself feel much either way about anyone. But it hadn't taken her long to disapprove of Dylan O'Roarke's whole outlook on life—take every risk you can, beat back every threat and don't let fear ever stop you. He just didn't understand the preciousness of life. She'd found herself calling him on that trait when he was a new recruit at the academy, and now she felt the white heat of resentment at his becoming a part of the staff.

  He'd been so smug last week about his thoughts on training the recruits, so she'd gone after him again as she had in the past. And he'd been good and truly pissed off about it…

  After the meeting had broken up, Beth returned to her office and was sorting though some files when she heard a noise at the doorway. She looked up to find O’Roarke leaning against the jamb, his arms crossed over a chest that stretched the blue RFD uniform shirt mercilessly. His eyes were glistening with anger.

  "Is this the way my whole time here is going to go?" he asked, ditching his legendary charm. She had to be the only woman in the world he didn't use it on.

  "I don't know what you mean."

  "The hell you don't.” He strode into the room. "You know, when I was a recruit here, I had to take this shit from you. I don't have to take it anymore."

  She gave him her best detached, haughty look, though as always he evoked a furor of response inside her. "Usually instructors at the academy listen to each other and work together. They don't go on the attack and use foul language." She shook her head. "I'd hoped you'd…matured enough to get along here." She knew that particular criticism had always zinged him.

  His face flushed with anger. "Oh, and Ms. Wise-in-the-Ways-of-the-World knows all about maturity, doesn't she? What are you, anyway, thirty-five? You act eighty…"

  The recollection made Beth sigh heavily. Then she glanced around to see how far she'd walked.

  Quite far. She could barely see the pier where O'Roarke sat cuddling with his girlfriend. Resolutely she started back. She wished she could go to her room, but Francey and Chelsea, Beth’s other close friend, would worry if she didn't return to the reception. She took another deep breath. With any luck this wedding celebration would be her last for a very long time.

  * * *

  "Vrrroom..."

  Three little hellions raced past Dylan, their arms held out at right angles from their sides. Each had dark eyes, olive skin and jet-black hair. Dylan guessed their ages ranged from four to seven. After whizzing by him, they circled a food stall, narrowly missing the sharp edge of one of the carts. They still bumped the back of it, making the thing teeter precariously.

  "Where are their parents?" Dylan wondered aloud, unable to see any adult who might be with them. The Kingston, Jamaica, airport was crowded on Sunday afternoon as the Templeton wedding party waited for their plane to be fueled.

  "Their mother's over in the corner, breast-feeding her baby," Missy told him.

  Scanning the room, Dylan saw the woman and smiled at the nurturing sight. Then his gaze was snagged by Beth Winters, sitting alone about three feet from the mother, her nose buried in a book. Now there was a woman who knew nothing about nurturing.

  Ben Cordaro appeared and spoke briefly with her. She rose as he headed toward Dylan. "O'Roarke, I'd like to talk to you."

  "Sure."

  Ben gestured to a small table that butted against a wall behind the food stalls. As Dylan stood to follow, one of the little boys crashed headlong into him. Dylan bent and scooped him up. "Hey, you guys better settle down. Somebody could get hurt."

  The boy gave a gap-toothed grin as Dylan
set him on his feet. "Okay, mister. I'll tell my brothers. I'm watchin' them for my mom." The kid scampered off.

  "Keep them away from those food carts over there. They don't look stable," Dylan called after him, then crossed to Ben, only to find Beth Winters had joined him. She looked feminine in a white silky T-shirt and khaki shorts, which revealed tanned slender legs. But she sat down at the table and clasped her hands. Once again her posture was so unyielding Dylan wondered if she ever relaxed.

  "Both of us?" Dylan asked stupidly.

  Ben nodded.

  Dylan took a chair at the opposite end of the table from Winters, with Ben between them. Their battalion chief ran his hand through his hair and expelled a heavy breath. "I got a call this morning with some news that concerns both of you. I thought I'd tell you now, instead of springing this on you tomorrow morning at work. We'll all be busy when the recruits arrive."

  Beth cocked her head and Dylan waited.

  "Tom Jackson slipped last night in the shower. Hurt his bad hip. The doctor told him he'd need the replacement surgery right away." Jackson, the captain in charge of EMS at the academy, had gone off the line because of hip problems. Recently he'd talked of retirement because his injury bothered him so much.

  "Oh, I'm sorry." Winters frowned. Dylan had never noticed how finely etched her eyebrows were. "Is he in pain?"

  "A lot. They're hoping to get the operation scheduled this week."

  Dylan said, "Good. The healing won't hurt as much."

  Wearily Ben drew in another breath. "He'll be out for at least three months—probably till after Christmas."

  "For the whole recruit class," Winters said evenly.

  "Too bad," Dylan responded.

  "I can handle things that long," she said matter-of-factly.

  "No, you can't, Beth." Ben frowned. "It would double your teaching load, as well as make you responsible for all the other medical duties at the academy. We've got an advanced EMS course for line firefighters scheduled for November. You'll need help."

  "No one else at the academy is trained to teach in my area."

  Ben's gaze swung from Winters to Dylan, then to Winters again. "Dylan's a paramedic as well as a certified instructor. He also has an education degree from Cortland State. He’s had all the methods courses."

  Winters clutched a paper napkin and twisted it in her hands. "O'Roarke?"

  Dylan shook his head. "No way, Ben. I've already got my assignment for which firefighting classes I'm teaching."

  "We'll reassign some of them."

  "Ben, this isn't a good idea," Dylan protested. In fact, it was the worst idea in the world.

  "I know you two don't see eye to eye," Ben said, exasperation in his tone. "But I don't have much choice." His face hardened. "Look, you're both adults. You'll have to find a way to deal with this…animosity between you." He paused. "Maybe working together is the best thing for you. You'll be forced to deal with whatever it is that turns you into cats and dogs when you're in the same room."

  Chastised, neither Winters nor Dylan spoke.

  "You'll be sharing the EMS office, too. I'll have Tom's desk cleared temporarily for Dylan." Ben paused. "I expect you to work this out." Giving them his best chief officer look, he pushed back his chair, stood and walked away.

  Dylan was thrust back twenty-five years, to when he was a Cub Scout and Grandma Katie was his den leader. Their troop had gone camping, and Dylan had been paired with Jeff Miller, the nerdiest kid in the group. He'd griped about it, and his grandma—her cheeks sunburned, her camping clothes grimy—had silenced him with a glare and another saying. In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity. He smiled at how right she'd been. He and Jeff had wound up hitting it off and remained best friends through college, until Jeff had moved south after graduation.

  Not that this would happen with Beth Winters. It wasn't possible.

  Winters watched Ben walk away. After a moment, she turned to Dylan. Her eyes were deeply troubled. He stared at her, knowing his own reflected the same turbulence. He opened his mouth to speak, maybe ease her misgivings and his own. Suddenly there was a loud crash. Followed by screams.

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