He chuckled. “Are you jealous?”
She pushed away from him. “Don’t get cocky. I’m just curious.”
His skeptical grin told her he didn’t believe her. But he drew her over to sit on the bed with him. Clasping her hand in both of his, he held it in his lap and sighed. “It was a long time ago.” He scanned the room as if remembering the past. “I’d come back to live at home, and been training at the Fire Academy for a few months. Lydia was attending Kingsborough and both of us were working. We’d hardly seen each other since Christmas when I’d told her about quitting Notre Dame.
“She’d been acting kind of distant and I thought she was mad that I hadn’t given her an engagement ring for Christmas. So, I thought I’d surprise her for Valentine’s Day.” He winced.
“I bought a ring and drove to her parents’ house, but she wasn’t home. They said she was studying, so I waited.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw as he studied their joined hands. “Finally about midnight she gets home.” Clicking his tongue in disgust, he looked away and ran a hand through his hair. “I got down on one knee and everything.” He sighed. “She turned me down, saying I’d changed the plan midstream. She didn’t want to stay in Brooklyn her whole life. She’d planned on being a pro-ballplayer’s wife.”
Carly shook her head. “What an idiot.”
He threw her an incredulous look and barked a laugh. “Me? Or her?”
“Her! For letting you go.”
A slow smile curved his mouth as he leaned over her and then urged her down to the mattress, his lips almost touching hers. “Does that mean you won’t let me go?”
She trailed a finger over his dark brow, down his stubbled cheek and then combed her fingers through his hair. “Maybe.”
With a growl he took her mouth. Powerful and possessive, exploring her with his tongue. He moved his lips down her jaw to her throat, kissing along her neck to take her earlobe between his teeth.
She reached under his jacket and tugged his shirt out from his slacks, running her hands over his ripped abs up the solid muscles of his chest. Without lifting his mouth from her neck he began unbuttoning her blouse. When she started helping he moved his hand to reach under her skirt and caress her thigh. He groaned. “Carly? Are those stockings and garters?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
He groaned again, rolled off and got to his feet. “Let’s go back to my place.”
Rebuttoning her blouse, she sat up and raised a brow, teasing him. “You don’t want to do it in your old bed?”
“I never disrespected my parents when I lived here and I’m not going to start now.”
“So, you never...? With Lydia?”
“Of course not.” He acted disgusted and Carly’s heart sank. What? Lydia had been too pure for sex? Whereas Carly had slept with Joe merely because he got the wrong room number.
He grabbed the plastic-wrapped plate from the desk and headed for the door. Then he turned back with a lopsided grin. “We did it in the backseat of my car like any self-respecting teenagers.”
Happiness launched her off the bed and into his arms. She jumped up, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. “Take me home, Firefighter Joe.”
His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”
Oh, how she loved this man. It scared her to death how much. And how quickly he could demolish her.
And that was the problem, wasn’t it? He made her deliriously happy. But inevitably, she would fail him.
And the thought of hurting this wonderful guy? How would she live with herself?
19
“WHAT THE...?” Joe mumbled to himself as he stared at his cell phone. Twelve texts! And it was only 7:00 a.m.
He’d just stepped out of the shower when the phone went nuts. The first text was from his brother, Bernard, who worked in the city. Joe felt the life drain out of him. It was a picture of himself on the jumbotron in Times Square. He was bare from the waist up, wearing only tight black pants and tall pirate’s boots. Ten stories tall!
Across the top were the words Brooklyn’s Sexiest Fireman. Great. He’d never hear the end of this from the guys.
Carly had taken that picture of him in the Caribbean. The photo shoot had been sponsored by Modiste, but the words scrolling across the bottom of the jumbotron was Carly’s blogsite web address. How could she have sanctioned this?
* * *
HE COULDN’T READ one text before he had three more. And that was in between answering calls. His sisters, his other brother, his sisters’ friends. Rosie told him she saw the photo everywhere she looked on the internet. The stupid photo had gone viral.
He nearly smashed his cell against the wall of his apartment.
He tossed it on the bathroom counter just as he noticed his chief’s number. This should be fun. The chief told him there were women and reporters outside the fire station, their cars obstructing the drive that by ordinance had to stay clear for the fire trucks. The team had gone out to get them to move their cars, and reporters had asked the guys for interviews.
Geez, it was barely nine in the morning.
“And guess who I just got off the phone with, Tedesco.” Chief didn’t wait for Joe to guess. “The fire commissioner. Keep your mug away from the firehouse until this crap dies down. And while you’re at it you might want to decide whether you want to be a model or a fireman.”
Joe clenched his teeth, his fists ready to pound something. “Yes, sir,” Joe said, but the line was already dead.
He needed to see Carly. Half of him wanted sanctuary. The other half wanted an explanation.
This morning she’d left for her place just after dawn, even though he’d tried to persuade her to stay. But it was her first day working for Modiste. He’d understood. But when he’d tried to make plans to meet her for lunch later, she’d hedged and said she’d call him. Had she known Modiste was going to put his photo up in Times Square? Was that why she’d raced out of his apartment?
He threw on some old jeans and a sweatshirt, and hurried down the stairs. But once outside he heard shouts. “There he is!” He snapped his gaze up as a group of women, flanked by a bunch of reporters rushed toward him, converging on him like a crazy mob ready to lynch the village monster.
Some reporter shoved a microphone in his face and a woman tried to grab his coat. There were less than a dozen people there, but for a moment he imagined the small crowd swarming over him like ants on a carcass and him getting devoured alive.
Man up, Joe.
He braced himself for the onslaught, ignored the reporter shouting questions and ducked his head as he braved the gauntlet to get to his truck.
Before he could make it, another female almost tore his coat off. Camera phones flashed, and a video camera was recording as he fought his way inside his truck.
He locked the door and ran his hands through his hair. He was shaking as he looked down at his torn coat. What was wrong with people?
He headed for the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway and drove straight to Carly’s apartment. He had to circle her building twice to find a parking spot. At least there weren’t any mobs outside her place. He hit her buzzer, then stomped the slushy snow off his boots.
“Yes?” Her still sleepy voice came over the intercom.
“It’s Joe.”
The door unlatched and he took the stairs three at a time, striding down the hall until he reached her door. She was waiting for him in her open doorway with a huge smile. Before he could say anything she threw her arms around his neck and planted a deep kiss on his mouth. “What are you doing here? Did they call you, too?”
“Who? What’s going on, Carly?”
Her smile vanished. “You sound mad. What’s the matter?”
He took her hand, tugged her inside her apartment and closed the door. “You tell me.” He wanted to hear this from her lips.
“Joe, what’s wrong? Modiste just called me. I was going to text you.”
“Oh, yeah? So,
you didn’t know they were going to do this until this morning?”
Her brows crinkled and she cocked her head. “How could I? But, I thought you’d be happy for me.”
“Happy? I was just mobbed outside my apartment. The chief is threatening my job.” He pointed at his coat. “They almost took this off me!”
Carly blinked. “Mobbed? What?”
“You really didn’t know about the jumbotron? You didn’t choose this picture?” He snatched his phone from his pocket, brought up the picture and held it in front of her nose.
Frowning, she took the phone from him. And gasped. “I didn’t. Oh, my God.” She gasped again. “They told me my blog’s URL was scrolling across the bottom and I was just excited about getting that kind of exposure.” She grinned. “You have to admit you look pretty good.”
Joe grabbed the phone back from her. “There were crazy women blocking the fire station this morning. Chief told me to stay away and decide whether I wanted to be a model or fireman.”
Her mouth dropped open. She turned, walked to the club chair and sank into it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
He closed the distance between them. “Carly. You have to get that picture off the jumbotron.”
She looked up at him. “Me? I have no control over what Modiste does.”
“Talk to them. Give it a shot.”
Her expression hardened. Her eyes had never looked so icy as she gazed at him. “You thought I somehow did this, and then didn’t tell you?”
“It crossed my mind, yeah.”
Carly refused to let Joe see how much she ached right now. Why wouldn’t he assume that? Her father was a liar, right? And they’d already established that she was so selfish she couldn’t make a relationship work. But it still hurt. Like a phantom pain in a missing limb, she wanted to rub her chest where a normal heart should be.
She nodded. “Fair enough. Like father, like daughter?”
His jaw muscle ticked and he stepped back, placing his hands on his hips as he lowered his gaze. “That’s not what I—” He growled under his breath. “Carly.”
Tired of him towering over her, she stood and paced to the kitchen for a moment. What she was about to do required a clear head.
Joe followed.
She refused to let her jumbled emotions get the better of her. “I tried to warn you, you know. No. Actually, you told me.” Putting a finger to her temple, she cocked her head and squinted. “If I recall correctly, you’re the one who said I was bad at relationships. So, it’s not like you should be surprised.”
“Come on, Carly. That was before.”
“No, you come on, Joe. We both knew this was never going to work between us.”
His expression darkened. “No, I don’t know that.”
“Eventually I would’ve really screwed things up, right?” She took a long breath and released it.
“No.” Joe stalked around the bar, tried to take her in his arms, but she flattened a palm on his chest to keep him away.
“The truth is, even if I could make Modiste take down that billboard of you in Times Square, I wouldn’t.”
He flinched, just briefly, but she caught it. His eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.”
“Why would I? It’s going to make my career. My chance to make it big. You really think I’d choose you over that?” She held his gaze, calling on every ounce of anger she could muster, willing him to believe her lie.
He smiled, shaking his head. “You’re just trying to prove a point. Okay, I get it. I shouldn’t have assumed the worst about you.” He spun and ran a hand through his hair. “And you’re right. I was upset. It’s been a weird, crazy morning. I’ve never faced a mob like that.”
Carly gestured at the door. “I think you should leave.”
He spun back around. “The hell I will.”
She had to harden her nonexistent heart. If he didn’t get out of here soon, she might not have the strength to make him. Her throat ached trying to swallow past a huge lump. It was all she could do not to press herself against his strong chest and beg him to forgive her and kiss her and hold her and stay with her forever.
Wow. Two months ago she would have told this new, sentimental Carly to snap out of it and get a life. And that’s what she needed to do now. Since when did she let a man dictate her career?
And her former self was right. Her life would be so much easier to manage without all the mess and fuss of having to deal with another person’s baggage.
Yeah. Right.
He was staring at her. “We’ll talk about this later once we’ve both calmed down.” He dug into his coat pocket and pulled out his truck keys.
“It won’t change anything.” She schooled her expression and gave him a weak smile.
His lips flattened as he stepped close to her again and kissed her. His mouth lingered until she succumbed and softened hers, committing the feel and scent of him to memory.
She didn’t move until he stepped away and took a few hesitant steps backward. Until he’d spun and strode out the door and the sound of his boots clomping down the stairs had faded; then she unfroze and squeezed her eyes closed.
Goodbye, Joe.
20
“I’LL SEE YOUR dollar and raise you three.” Wakowski shoved four white chips into the middle of the card table.
Joe eyed Wakowski. Was he bluffing? His buddy held his gaze and grinned.
Joe studied his hand.
“You guys need more beer?” Wakowski’s wife called down from the top of the basement stairs.
“Nah, babe, we’re about done for the night,” Wakowski called up to her. “As soon as I wipe the floor with this rookie.” He chuckled, then grabbed his side. “Ow.”
“You’re supposed to take it easy after major surgery, dimwit,” Stockton said.
“Hey, I been doing nothing but taking it easy. I know it’s time to go back to work when I can sing the theme songs to all my kids’ favorite cartoons.”
Joe smiled. The poker game tonight had been a great idea. Take his mind off everything that had happened.
Since he’d left Carly a few days ago he’d called her twice, but it just rolled to voice mail. All his texts went unanswered. Déjà vu all over again.
One reporter and a few fanatics still hung out at his apartment and the station. The chief had said Joe could work his next shift since the commotion had died down. But he’d been adamant about making sure there were no further incidents. If only Joe hadn’t made such a big deal about the whole thing to Carly.
“So, what youse gonna do, Tedesco?” Miller had folded and was supposed to have been home thirty minutes ago. His wife kept texting him.
Everman leaned back in his folding chair, puffing on a cigar. “Yeah, you gonna bet sometime before Christmas, Mr. Sexy?”
Stockton smacked Everman on the back of the head.
“Ow!” Everman scowled and rubbed the spot where he’d been hit. “What?”
His fellow firefighters avoided Joe’s gaze, glancing at each other uneasily.
“It’s okay, guys. It happened. I’m over it.” What a load of malarkey. What he wouldn’t give to have Carly texting him to hurry home. In fact, he’d settle for any kind of text. But just like her father, that woman sure knew how to hold a grudge.
In his family, you got mad, you yelled at each other awhile and then you worked it out. You didn’t break up at the first sign of trouble.
He pushed all his chips into the center of the table. “I’ll see your three dollars, Wakowski, and raise you everything I got.”
Stockton whistled. “High stakes there, Tedesco.”
Wakowski shook his head. “Oh, no, I ain’t falling for that again. I thought you were bluffing last time. I fold.” He threw his cards on the table.
Joe grinned, and showed his hand. His Jack-high straight was missing the nine.
“Oh, for the love of—” Wakowski cursed, and all the guys got to their feet, complaining.
Joe raked in his chips.<
br />
“Hey, watch out, Tedesco.” Everman called out as he headed for the stairs. “You know what they say. Lucky in cards. Unlucky in lo— Ow!”
Stockton walloped Everman on the side of the head as they both climbed the stairs.
Joe paused as he scooped the chips off the table into a plastic bag.
“Don’t pay him any attention, Joe.” Wakowski waved a hand at Everman’s retreating form. “Everyone knows he’s a doofus.”
“Hey, I told you. I’m over it.” Joe shrugged, pretending the old superstition hadn’t made his chest tighten. “Carly was just a...” He couldn’t bring himself to say the lie out loud. A fling. An affair. A good time while it lasted.
“Yeah, sure.” Wakowski nodded his understanding of the sentence left unfinished and stood gingerly, holding his side. “No big deal, right?”
“Right.” Joe agreed. Just because he’d felt a kind of magic when he was in her arms. And he’d imagined little rug rats with his black hair and her ice-blue eyes. And told her he loved her.
He came around the table to assist his buddy. “Want a hand up the stairs.”
“I’m fine.” Wakowski shooed him away.
“Richie, let Joe help you, or you can sleep on the couch tonight...” His wife called down the stairs.
Wakowski sighed, rolled his eyes and made a face at Joe as if to say, You see what I have to put up with? “Yes, dear.” He yelled back.
Joe grinned, even as his chest ached. He wanted that. The good-natured nagging, the kids’ toys scattered everywhere, the woman who loved him so much she let him go downstairs to play poker when he was supposed to be resting.
But maybe it just wasn’t meant to be for him. The woman he wanted didn’t want him.
He shook off the self-pity. Move on, Joe. You’ll meet somebody else.
Maybe.
Someday.
He patted Wakowski on the back as he took the guy’s weight on his shoulder. “You’re one lucky guy, Wakowski, you know that?”
* * *
CARLY UNCLENCHED HER fists and made herself step out of the cab, walk up to the Tedescos’ front door and knock. She’d come straight from a meeting at Modiste’s offices today, so she was, once again, overdressed. Her stomach twisted. Good thing she hadn’t eaten anything since the small spinach salad at lunch.
Cabin Fever Page 15
