“I have to show you. It’s too big. Besides, I was . . . hoping to see you.”
“I’m intrigued.”
Did he sound suspicious? “Well, I was thinking we could try to find some closure.” That sounded like something Melissa would say, right? “Do you know when you might come?” It would be better if he came before Melissa’s suspension ended.
“How about I surprise you.”
“Oh Everett.” Ella mimicked Melissa’s throaty laugh. She’d always envied that laugh. “You know how my schedule gets. I have so many commitments and I like to be on top of everything.”
“Excellent quality in a producer.”
Ella made a face at the phone.
“Fine. I’ll give you a call when I’m on my way to the station.”
“I look forward to it,” she purred.
After she hung up, Ella took an extra fifteen minutes to figure out how to forward Melissa’s calls to her phone. She couldn’t afford to miss that call. It took only one lucky break to launch a career into the big leagues. But she wasn’t going to leave it to luck. When Everett Malcolm saw her in person, he’d fall at her feet. He’d beg her to take over the Six O’Clock News. He’d put her on billboards on every freeway in Los Angeles. They’d shoot real promos for her, the kind with film crews and catering. She’d get her own makeup artist. She’d buy two houses—one in Beverly Hills, and a little getaway retreat in Malibu.
She chased away her twinge of guilt with a vision of her future entourage.
In the snug Airstream, Melissa lay basking in Brody’s arms.
“How come I never call you Harry?” she mused.
“Because I wax my legs?”
“You do?”
“Does it feel like I do?” He rubbed his leg over her naked hip.
“Mmm. Whatever you do, don’t change it now, Harry.” She heard the deep rumble of laughter in his chest.
“Can I tell you a secret?” He traced a finger along her collarbone.
“Is it deep and dark?”
“As the La Brea Tar Pits.”
“Shoot.”
“My real last name is Brod. No Y.”
“That doesn’t seem so deep and dark.” His leg moved against her hip in a lazy, unhurried way that lulled her into a dream.
“Put it together.”
“Harry . . . Brod. Harry Brod!” She sat straight up. “Your parents named you Harry Brod? Like a hairy broad?”
“Yep. Don’t hurt yourself mocking me.”
“I’m not . . . It’s just . . . Hairy Broad! I’m in bed with a hairy broad!”
“Not for long, if you keep that up,” he teased.
“Sorry. Brody. I can see why you changed it.”
“Actually, I only changed it for Rebecca. She refused to be married to a Harry Brod.”
“That’s silly . . . I’d be proud—” She realized where her sentence was headed, and broke off. She’d almost said, I’d be proud to be married to Harry Brod.
Married. Did she really see herself married to Brody? She sank back on the bed next to him. Impossible. Married to a fire captain who ran into burning buildings? Married to a man who had never written a short story, never sculpted any ceramic table art? Was she crazy?
On the other hand, she’d be married to a man who made her laugh, who constantly surprised her with his quick mind, who was strong, loyal, revered by his subordinates; a man who rocked her world with his touch. What could be more wonderful? But she didn’t love him, did she?
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, lifting her chin with a finger. “You got so quiet all of a sudden.”
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Just this investigation I’m working on.” But she wouldn’t meet his eyes . . . couldn’t meet his eyes. If she did, he might see the confusion written across her face. This couldn’t be love, could it?
She’d never felt anything like this before. When she thought about Brody, a feeling of peace and rightness came over her. When she looked at him, joy tingled all the way to her fingertips. He made her feel free. Free to say what she wanted. Free to fight with him, if she wanted. Scream in ecstasy, if she wanted. And she did. She wanted all those things. She wanted him.
But love?
He’d never said anything about love. He’d said he wasn’t cut out for a personal life. What they had was hot sex between two people with completely different lives. She’d sworn not to let herself be so vulnerable ever again. And yet, here she was. Falling for an enigmatic man she hadn’t even met a month ago.
She realized Brody was saying something to her. “Sorry, what?”
“I said, it must be a fascinating investigation. What’s it about?”
She told him about Rodrigo. “I kept getting distracted by that damn Thanksgiving special.” He rolled his eyes at the mention. “But now I’m focusing entirely on him. I’m supposed to meet him tomorrow. It’s my first day back at work.”
“And you think he’s telling the truth?”
“I believe he is. But I’ll know more after I talk to him face-to-face.”
“Where does he live?”
“Fern Acres. My old neighborhood.”
He was quiet for a while. “If it’s true, I sure hope you nail those bastards.”
“Me too. This is the kind of story I’ve always wanted to work on. When I was growing up, I saw so many things in that same neighborhood, but nobody ever cared what went on there. The only time a news reporter came was when there was some kind of gang murder. They wore their bulletproof vests and got out as quick as they could. I never thought what happened to us mattered to anyone. Now I have a chance to actually help some kids living there. I just hope I do it right.”
“You will. I know you, Melissa. You’re solid gold, through and through. And you’re smart. Those evil bastards better watch their asses.”
“Oh, Brody . . .” Melissa buried her face in his chest and snuggled herself into his arms. Words bubbled up, words begging to be spoken. I love you.
She wouldn’t let them out, she absolutely refused. No, I don’t, no I don’t! It’s not like that.
Is it?
The next morning, Melissa poked her head into Nelly’s room, reassured to see her sleeping peacefully. She paused a minute to watch her grandmother. Did her breathing sound a little rougher than normal? Nelly muttered and moved restlessly on the bed. Melissa smiled. Her grandmother was just fine. Feisty as ever, even in her sleep. She should stop worrying so much.
Besides, she was too happy to worry about anything. Her suspension was the best thing that could have happened. She’d spent the whole time working on her foster care investigation and hanging out with Brody. Now she could tackle her first day back at Channel Six with a fresh attitude.
Whistling, she started the coffeemaker, then jumped in the shower while the coffee brewed. Since she’d been spending time with Brody, she’d mastered the quick morning routine. Short shower, drink coffee while dressing, eat a jelly-filled breakfast bar while she dried her hair. The phone interrupted her flow, and she ran downstairs to answer it.
“Yes, hello?” she said impatiently.
“Morning, Melissa, it’s Haskell.”
“Oh. Hi, Dad.” The word “Dad” caught her by surprise. For years now, she’d called him Haskell. Maybe she could have a fresh attitude with him too. “What’s up?”
“Calling to see, well, hope you don’t mind if I ask. Say no if you want. Truck broke down. Need a ride to Captain Brody’s. I’ve got a meeting today too, don’t know what to do about that.”
The familiar exasperation surged. Would her father ever get his act together? But Nelly and Brody both kept telling her how hard he was working. And he needed those meetings.
“I’ll tell you what. You can drop me off at work and take my car. Just pick me up after your meeting.”
> “Yeah? That’s great, Mel. Appreciate it.”
She hung up slowly, amazed at how good it felt to soften toward her father. Now if she could just get along with her impossible anchorwoman.
When Melissa arrived at work, she knew right away that something was off with Ella. She seemed wired and nervous, and she refused to meet Melissa’s eyes during the morning news meeting. She must be up to something, but Melissa refused to get distracted from her story.
She spent the morning preparing for her interview with Rodrigo. At noon she walked to the Starbucks around the corner from the station. As soon as she saw him, she felt certain he was no liar. For one thing, he looked scared. He was a clean-cut kid, thin and wiry. Dark curls fell over his wide-open eyes. She spotted a bruise on his arm.
“Miss McGuire?” he said, bouncing to his feet.
“Hi, Rodrigo.” Smiling, she sat down at the table he’d picked, and saw that he had no drink in front of him. “What can I get you?”
It took a minute to convince him to order something, but eventually he admitted to liking hot chocolate. The warm drink seemed to relax him, and before long the details of his life story came pouring out. Poverty-stricken parents, no health care, father had died of blood poisoning, mother had buckled under the weight of caring for five children. She’d gotten sick, and gone back to Guadalupe, a broken woman. The younger kids had returned to Mexico with her, but Rodrigo had stayed. After living on the streets for a while, he wound up in the foster system. He was smart, Melissa quickly realized. He spoke English perfectly, even though he’d lived in California for only five years.
“Would you be willing to wear a hidden camera, if I can arrange it?” she asked.
“I think so. But would she find it? How will we hide it?”
“We’ll work that out. The important thing is to catch your caseworker taking money from your foster mother.”
“No problem. I know exactly when she does it. First Friday of every month.”
Melissa looked at her daybook. “Wow, that’s this Friday. Let’s meet again on Thursday. I have to get permission to use the camera, and I need to talk to some technicians about the best way for you to wear it.”
“Thank you so much, Miss McGuire. I’ll do anything you say to do.”
“Just make sure no one finds out you’re doing this. I want you to stay safe.”
“I promise.” His dark eyes looked so wide and eager she couldn’t help smiling.
“We’ll stay in touch over the next couple of days, then. If anything happens, you call and let me know.”
“I will.” He pulled a crumpled bus schedule from his pocket. “I better go. Hey, what kind of ride you got?”
“My car? It’s a blue Volvo, an old one.”
“Four-door sedan?”
“Yep.”
“I saw you drive by the house, right after I first called you.”
Melissa had to laugh at the way guys, no matter what their age, always noticed cars. “Did anyone else notice?”
“Nah. I did, because I was looking for you. I knew you’d want to check out the hood. I was worried it would scare you off.”
“Nah,” she said, echoing him. He smiled broadly at her, and left.
The boy trusted her, Melissa realized. He trusted her with his story, and with his safety. It was a humbling thought, but inspiring, too. The kind of thing Brody would appreciate. She pulled out her cell phone and punched in Brody’s number.
He took a while to answer, and when he did, his voice sounded very strange. “I’ll have to call you back. Something’s come up.”
“Of course. But you don’t have to call me back. I’ll just come by after work.”
“No, better wait until I call.” And he hung up. Melissa snapped her phone shut. Her stomach went tight. He’d never turned down a visit from her before. His voice sounded different too. Distant. Like a stranger.
Something was wrong. She knew it.
Brody stared at the woman on his front step as if she were a ghost. Rebecca stood before him. Rebecca. The girl he’d fallen in love with at the age of fourteen. The girl he’d protected from her nasty stepfather, the girl he’d married at the age of nineteen, the woman who’d walked away from their life without a second glance. She still had that wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights look that had drawn him to her. But now she wore an anxious look and had new wrinkles at the edges of her eyes, new blond streaks in her hair.
And a new baby growing in her belly. He stared at the small but unmistakable bump pushing against her clinging maternity tank top.
Trust Rebecca to find a way to make maternity clothes sexy.
Maybe that was her newest money-making scheme. Red-hot mama. Mamacita. MILF maternity clothes. Stop, stop it. Don’t let her make you crazy again.
“Sorry to just show up like this,” said Rebecca. “I had nowhere else to go.”
Nowhere else to go? She had the whole world, didn’t she? When she’d left, she’d told him anywhere was better than here, with him. But his protective instincts were too powerful to let him say that. On autopilot, he stepped back and let her in. He still held his cell phone, and vaguely remembered talking to Melissa. He followed Rebecca as she looked around his living room.
“Your place looks good,” said Rebecca. “You’ve done a lotta work.”
“It’s not finished yet.”
“How not finished?” In the kitchen, she trailed a hand along the counter. His counter. He fought an impulse to slap her hand away from it.
“What do you mean?”
“Finished enough so I can stay here?”
“What?”
Before he could explode, she turned and faced him head-on. “I wouldn’t be here if I had a choice, so just get that straight. I’m desperate. I’m pregnant.”
“I can see that,” he said in a thin voice.
“This one’s sticking around. Unlike its daddy. Thor kicked me out and took all the money from the flip-flops. He claims he came up with them, which you know is a lie, but his brother-in-law’s a lawyer, so I’m screwed. I’ve got nowhere, Brody. Just let me stay for a little bit, until I can figure something out.”
“That’s a lot to ask, don’t you think?” This came out in a mild tone that bore no relation to what Brody was feeling. What he wanted to say was You think you can dump me, throw me over for another man, then waltz back in without so much as a phone call? You’re insane.
“Brody, I’m pregnant. Think of the baby, not me.” She cupped her hand around the side of her belly.
Who was she to tell him to think of the baby? She’d hated their baby. Their baby had been a burden to her. As if she could read his thoughts, she broke in. “I’m on antidepressants this time. Turns out I had real bad depression before. I didn’t get it back then. This time it’s different.”
Sure, it was different. It wasn’t his baby. It wasn’t his business. He turned his back to her so he could think.
What if he turned her away and something happened to her baby? He’d never forgive himself. Her miscarriage still weighed on him. What if this was a chance to make up for that? If he did this thing for her, he could stop beating himself up about the baby they should have had.
So what if she’d screwed him over. That didn’t mean he should refuse to help her.
But he couldn’t live in the same space with her either. He scanned the house. The back bedrooms had already been enclosed. The plumber had hooked everything up two days ago. No kitchen yet. If she could live on takeout, without cooking, no reason why she couldn’t camp out here.
“You can stay. Only until you get on your feet. You’re on your own for food.” He indicated the still-unfinished kitchen. “Nothing’s working in there yet.”
“I won’t get in your way, I promise. Thank you, Harry.”
“No, you won’t get in my way,” he snapped. “
I’m not staying here, I’m in the trailer.” As he turned to head to the Airstream, he caught the quick flash of disappointment in her eyes.
Disappointment because they wouldn’t be sleeping in the same house? What was she up to? After all this time, did she want him back?
He slammed the newly hung door behind him. His marriage to Rebecca was over. Dead and gone. She’d killed it, or maybe the miscarriage had. Whatever it was, he felt nothing for her anymore. He’d help her out, she’d go on her way, and that would be that.
He completely forgot to call Melissa back.
Chapter Eighteen
Back at the station, Melissa asked Greg to show her how to work the tiny lipstick camera. His lesson seemed to take hours, but she kept checking her watch and seeing that no time at all had passed. Why didn’t Brody call? He never forgot to call. Sometimes he called twice a day. What had happened? Greg flicked her arm, and she jumped.
“Huh? What?”
“I asked,” he said with exaggerated patience, “whether this kid wears a baseball cap. A lot of them do, you know, backward or sideways.”
“Oh. I don’t think so. He didn’t have one on.”
“What was he wearing?”
Melissa couldn’t remember. It seemed like days since her meeting with Rodrigo. “I don’t know. I’ll call him and see if he can wear a cap.”
“That’d be best.” He showed her how to mount it on a cap, then packed the camera away in its case.
“You okay, Melissa?”
“Of course. What do you mean?”
“You seem distracted. Trouble with the fire captain? Those guys are tough. Gotta play hard to get with them.”
Too late now. “I’ll try and remember that.”
“You’re a precious gift from God, remember that too.”
“Oh really?”
“That’s what my mama tells me every time a girl dumps me.”
“Brody didn’t dump me.” Yet. “Anyway, who says we’re even dating?”
“Everyone. But don’t trip, I won’t tell anyone he dumped you.”
“He didn’t . . . ! Argh.” But she had to laugh at his teasing.
“There’s that beautiful smile. Just keep smiling, girl. Precious gift from God, don’t forget.”
The Fireman Who Loved Me Page 19
