The Fireman Who Loved Me

by Jennifer Bernard

  Melissa glanced over at the night’s hero. He lowered his head to his hands. “Another chapter in the legend of Captain Brody.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Don’t want to talk about it.”

  He fell silent, and after a little while Melissa got to her feet.

  “I’d better get back.”

  He shook himself off and rose to stand next to her. Leaning in, his mouth hovering over hers, he asked, “Do you want to come by tomorrow?”

  Bad idea, she knew. If she saw him again, it wouldn’t be the same—no extreme circumstances to get them both revved up. They’d probably both be disappointed. They should leave things as they were, a hot one-night encounter between two people completely unsuited to each other.

  And yet—she nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

  The next day, as she expected, Melissa walked in to her office to find a Post-it on her computer ordering her to report immediately to Loudon’s office.

  “Trouble?” said Chang, popping his head into her cubicle.

  “Hey, sorry you missed the biggest story of the year. How’s your budget series coming?” asked Melissa sweetly. Chang clutched his stomach as though a knife had been plunged into it, and withdrew his head. Melissa took a deep breath. Why did TV stations have to be so gossipy—they were worse than firehouses. Head held high, she made her way to Loudon’s office. On her way, she passed Ella’s domain. Huge bouquets of flowers crowded her desk. Ella had seized her moment, no doubt about it. No surprise there. Ella had never bothered to hide her ambition.

  In Loudon’s dim office, the news director blinked up at her and gave a weary sigh. “Why do you do this to me, Melissa? With you, it’s always the bad with the good. I’m starting to wonder if LA was right to let you go.”

  Melissa marshaled her arguments. “Loudon, be fair. I was first on the scene. I got us there. I got us the story.”

  “You got us part of the story.”

  “The biggest part.”

  “Our viewers disagree.”

  Melissa swallowed hard. “I did what I thought was right at the time.”

  “You knew about those firefighters who went inside City Hall.”

  She nodded.

  “Why didn’t you tell the assignment desk?”

  “I was busy. No, scratch that.” If she was going to get yelled at, she might as well tell the real story. “I didn’t think about it as a news story. I knew the guys who had gone into the fire, and I was worried about them.”

  “Do you have some sort of emotional attachment interfering with your news judgment?” Loudon peered at her with watery eyes.

  “What? That’s ridiculous.”

  “The guys tell me you left City Hall with the captain.”

  Oh, for Pete’s sake. Was there absolutely no privacy around here? “Look, Loudon, I got us to the scene of that fire before anyone else, we kicked ass on it, I kept it going until Ella got there. I even went on the air and didn’t do half bad either.”

  “Not at all. Too bad Ella’d have a fit if we put you on the air.”

  Melissa let that one pass. She didn’t want to be on the air anyway. “Meanwhile, Ella goes live and actually says their names. What if they hadn’t made it out? That’s a horrible way for their families to find out.”

  “Melissa, why are you trying to interfere with my lecture? You know I have to give you one.”

  She glanced at him sharply, finally detecting a glint of humor in his watery gaze. “If you want to lecture me, go ahead.”

  “Since when did you get so feisty?”

  Since she’d seen Captain Brody in action.

  “Meh, forget it. You know what I’m going to say, so I won’t waste our time. But I can’t give you that promotion. I have to question your news judgment. And I’m going to put you on unpaid suspension for the next few days. I’m sorry. Come back after Thanksgiving weekend.”

  Suspension. Hot outrage swept through her. It was completely unfair. She’d done a damn good job on the live shot, and he ought to reprimand Ella, not her. But she choked the words back. Who was she, a kid from Fern Acres, to talk back to a news director? Hadn’t she learned her lesson from Everett back in Los Angeles?

  Besides, she’d do the same thing again. Images from last night flickered through her mind—the janitor’s burned flesh, Brody’s bloodshot eyes, the weight of him against her shoulder. She’d helped Brody get away from the flames. What was a promotion compared to that?

  “I understand. I’ll try to do better.”

  At the door, she turned back. “By the way, what about the special? We never finished taping it.”

  Loudon rubbed his bleary eyes. “The captain canceled it. I already notified the advertisers.”

  “Really? What did he say? Why did he cancel?” Melissa’s pulse raced. What if Brody had mentioned the grease fire and the unauthorized aerial trip? He wouldn’t do that, would he?

  No, if he’d done that, she’d probably be fired already.

  “He was upset about our coverage, about the approach Ella took,” admitted Loudon.

  Relief made her knees wobble. She quickly turned her face so he wouldn’t see the I-told-you-so written all over it.

  “I almost forgot the kicker. Captain Brody gave his permission for us to run a story on the Bachelor Firemen. I guess he felt bad about canceling after all that hard work. Good guy.”

  “Yes,” she said in a strangled voice, before escaping to her cubicle. Back at her desk, her voice mail light blinked at her.

  One message awaited her, left by Ella Joy at two-twenty in the morning. The venom in her voice nearly melted the phone. “How dare you, Melissa. You left me at that stupid fire station so you could get your face on TV. You’ve always been jealous of me, haven’t you? If you think you can pull an All About Eve on me, you’d better think twice. How could you do this to me? I thought we were friends.”

  Melissa dropped her head to her hands. Being on Ella Joy’s hit list might be worse than getting suspended. She checked her cell phone. It had been off since she’d gone to Brody’s, and there were three messages, all from Ella.

  She was so damn tired of dancing around Ella’s ego. Normally, she would call Ella right away and explain she had no choice but to go on the air. Tell her she’d only done it under orders from the assistant news director. Remind her she’d handed off the mic as soon as Ella had arrived on the scene. Apologize for the crime of stealing airtime.

  Screw that. Would Captain Brody apologize for trying to put out a fire? No way. Why should she apologize for doing her job? Besides, she was on suspension.

  Suspension. The shame of it swept through her again. Suddenly all she wanted to do was see Brody.

  It was Brody’s day off, but he felt the heroic efforts of his crew deserved something special. Around midday he strolled into the station and spent a couple hours talking to his guys. He apologized for the canceled Thanksgiving special and made sure everyone got a personal word of thanks about the role they’d played in fighting the fire.

  “Vader, I’ve never seen anyone work the aerial like you. From now on, I’m sending you up there, these bones are getting too old for that shit.” He clapped Vader on the back and enjoyed his shy grin of pleasure. “Double D, nice job. I didn’t worry the whole time I was in there chasing after Hoagie. I knew you’d keep it under control . . . Hoagie, glad to see you alive. Come see me in the captain’s office. If Captain Kelly doesn’t mind.”

  Captain Kelly obligingly went to refill his coffee mug, and Ryan followed Brody into the captain’s office.

  Brody dreaded this conversation. Ryan was a notorious hothead, and Brody had to lecture him about going after the janitor. But since he probably would have done exactly the same thing, a scolding felt hypocritical. In the end, he said simply, “You know better. Never ve
er off alone. Ever. We both could have died in there.”

  “I know, Cap. But, you know—”

  “I ought to put you on suspension.”

  Ryan went white.

  “Tell me one thing. Were you trying to impress Ella Joy?”

  “Captain!” Ryan’s jaw dropped in horror.

  “Hoagie?”

  “No. I—she wasn’t even there.” He hung his head.

  “So you looked for her.”

  “Yeah. But I didn’t go in because of her, I swear, Cap. I forgot all about her by then.” His face went red. “And she sure pissed me off afterward, when I saw the TV report.”

  “Okay. Like I said, I’m glad you’re alive. Try to keep it that way. And the next reckless, dumbass move you pull, that’s it. Automatic suspension.”

  “I got it. Thank you, Cap. I’ll be good.”

  After that, he spent a few minutes fending off Hoagie’s fervent thanks for saving his life. “Thank me by being more careful.”

  “I will, Cap, I promise. Well, I’ll try.”

  “All I can ask.”

  Just before Brody left the station, the San Gabriel Good Samaritan Hospital called. Captain Kelly handed him the phone. Brody listened, and then slowly replaced the receiver.

  Despite all efforts to revive him, the janitor, Diego Hernandez, had died.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Brody stalked out of the firehouse, brushing off the pats and sympathetic murmurs of his crew. For the first time in his firefighting career, he’d lost a life. Images of the man’s blistered, blackened body haunted him. He should have gone in faster, found him sooner.

  Back in his Airstream, he opened a bottle of Scotch and downed a quick shot. The liquid scorched his mouth and throat. He welcomed the burn. His second shot blurred the pain of the first. He started to pour another shot, but a knock on the door interrupted him.

  Damn it. Was Haskell here to start the upstairs? He couldn’t let the man find him in the process of getting drunk. He capped the bottle and stuffed it in the cabinet, then downed a glass of water. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me,” came a soft, female voice. Melissa. He didn’t want Melissa finding him drunk either, but on the other hand . . . God, he wanted her. Needed her.

  He strode to the door and opened it. He didn’t even give her a chance to say hello before sweeping her into his arms and whirling her to the bed. “Melissa,” he groaned against her soft neck. Her skin smelled so delicious, he wanted to lick it, kiss every sleek curve of her body.

  He tossed her on the bed, feeling like a pirate claiming his prize. She gazed up at him with wide green eyes. “Brody, are you okay?”

  “I don’t want to talk. I just want to be with you.” Touch you. Bury myself inside you. Forget everything else but you. He ripped off his shirt and unzipped his pants. He was already hard, just from the scent of her skin, and the sight of her stretched across his bed. She had on a sleeveless blouse with about a billion buttons. Could he rip them off? Would that upset her? Was she already upset by his manhandling?

  When her hands went to her top button, he let out a breath of relief. “Here. I’ll do it.” He straddled her, one bent knee on either side of her hips. He saw her eyes flick to his raging erection. Hands shaking, he attacked her buttons one by one. As her creamy flesh was exposed, a kind of madness came over him. He bent his head to her soft breasts, devouring her nipples with greedy strokes of his tongue. She tasted like heaven, like forgiveness, like every good thing in the universe. She moaned and twisted under him. God, she was beautiful.

  He had to get inside her or he’d lose his mind. His hands went to her pants, but he was too crazed and fumbled at the zipper. Melissa pushed his hands away and unfastened them herself. As soon as the enticing dark curls between her thighs appeared, he yanked her hips to his mouth and dove into the sweet wetness.

  She was ready for him. Already. He lapped at her slick folds. Circled the hot, hidden kernel at the heart of them. He gripped her thighs, which quivered under his touch. Her little cries and frantic movements drove him on. He loved seeing her like this, giving in to her need, surrendering to him. The intensity of his desire for her shocked him. He’d never felt this way, not even . . . His thoughts scattered as he felt her orgasm pulse through her. She thrashed against the bed, pushed against his mouth, and he couldn’t stand it anymore.

  He fumbled for a condom, then plunged into her body, still vibrating from her climax. Oh yes, sweet oblivion. Blissful release. He could live forever like this, ravaging her flesh, losing himself inside her, tasting her sweet nipples, stroking her skin until it shivered.

  But forever would have to wait. Two strokes, and he came like a rocket. On and on it went, his body rigid with ecstasy, his mind emptied of everything but pleasure.

  When the last spasm had been wrung from him, he sprawled on top of Melissa’s trembling, damp body.

  Holy fucking crap. As he surfaced, those were the only words that came to mind. Melissa tapped her fingers across his back. “Um . . . yeah, as I was about to say when I knocked, hello, and how was your day?”

  Brody groaned and rolled off her. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I loved it. I’m just glad it wasn’t the Avon lady at your door.”

  “I sure hope you’re joking. I wouldn’t attack just anyone like that.” He forced a laugh. Had he made a fool of himself? Shown his need too clearly?

  “I was joking. But seriously, what happened? You seem different. Upset. You’re usually so calm.” She brushed her tumbled hair away from her face.

  “Melissa,” he tucked a strand behind her ear, “I don’t think I’ve had a minute of calm since I met you.”

  Color swept across her cheeks. He loved seeing that flicker of pleasure in her expressive eyes.

  “The janitor died. From the City Hall fire. I’m surprised you don’t know.”

  “I got suspended.”

  “What?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I decided to use the time to work on an investigation.”

  He laughed. “You are one of a kind. You’re going to work while you’re on suspension?”

  She lifted herself on her elbow and tangled a finger in the damp hair on his chest. “I’m sorry about the janitor.”

  “Yeah. Turns out I can’t save everyone.”

  “Are you okay?” The worry in her eyes gave him a funny feeling. Hernandez’s death had thrown him for a loop, but he didn’t want her thinking he couldn’t handle it. He was Captain Brody. He could handle anything.

  “I’m fine. Maybe this will teach my guys a lesson and they’ll stop diving into fully involved fires, assuming I’ll save their stupid asses.”

  “But you probably will,” she pointed out, dancing her fingers down to his navel. “You can’t help it.”

  “I will if I can. But now they know I’m not Superman.”

  “Oh really?” Melissa murmured wickedly. “I might have something to say about that.” She lowered her hand to his already hardening erection.

  “Maybe I am, when it comes to you,” he said with a groan and pulled her on top of him.

  Much later, when they’d sufficiently slaked their thirst for each other, something occurred to Brody. Maybe the curse—invulnerable firefighter with a crappy personal life—was over. Maybe things had changed. Maybe he deserved someone. Maybe he deserved Melissa.

  But next time, he’d take his time and show her how much he appreciated her.

  When Melissa knocked on the door of the trailer the next evening, she was greeted by the sight of Brody in an apron, thrusting a huge bouquet of wildflowers at her.

  “Wow, for me?” she said, a thrill rippling through her. Just seeing him, his storm-gray eyes smiling into hers, made her shiver. On top of that—flowers.

  “For the Avon lady, but you got here first.”

  “Trying to
make me jealous, Captain?”

  “Sure. I want you to try to win me back from that man-stealing Avon lady.”

  “I can try,” she said dubiously. “But they make some really good products. How’s this?” She leaned in and took his bottom lip between her teeth. “If you ever”—she nibbled his lip—“mess with her again”—she sucked on his tongue—“I’ll have to get seriously”—her tongue flicked inside his mouth—“disgracefully”—she tugged on his upper lip—“naughty.”

  When she drew back, she was more than satisfied with the way his breathing came fast and his eyes darkened. “Put that bouquet down,” he muttered. “It’s in my way.”

  She tossed it onto the TV and went into his arms. Being held by him felt so right, so perfectly magical, it nearly brought tears to her eyes. His warm body against hers felt like home. All her worries about work, about Ella, vanished as if they’d never existed. The only thing that mattered was the solid heat of him against her. She ran her hands down to his backside and giggled as she felt the strings of the apron.

  “You’ve been cooking?”

  “Yes, but I have a better idea now,” he said with an eyebrow-waggling leer.

  “Me too.” Under the apron he wore baggy sweatpants, and she deftly pulled them down to his knees. His underwear went next, and then there was nothing between his rising erection and her but his apron, which now stood out in front of him like a tent. She took a step back and cocked her head.

  “That is surprisingly . . .” Her voice caught. “Sexy,” she finally managed. In response, the apron rose even higher. “I didn’t know a man could look this good in an apron.”

  “Martha Stewart’s got nothin’ on me.”

  “Do you cook as good as you look?” There was pleasure in drawing this out, in standing close to each other, not touching, but enjoying each other with their eyes, their playfulness. Brody kicked his sweatpants off and stood in his bare feet.