by Amie Denman
Jane was warm, alive, emotion rolling off her in waves. But he was afraid to move or speak. All he could do was hold her tight and wait—wait for the correct words to come. He’d held his emotions and tears in tight during the long months of watching his mother slowly leave them. He never saw his father cry; instead, he’d faced it with squared shoulders and quiet calm.
Charlie could follow his father’s example. Strength. Fortitude. Doing the right thing without painful and useless emotion.
“I’ll take care of you,” he said. It was the only thing he could do. “And the...the baby.”
Jane stiffened and pushed back. “Is that all you have to say?”
“I don’t know what else to say. I’ll take responsibility. I can provide for us.”
“Responsibility? Provide for us?” she said, turning her tearstained face up to his.
“You know I’d never let you down, Jane.”
She stepped back but kept a hand on his chest, still using him for strength but not leaning against him. He wanted to pull her close again. This was Jane, his friend. He knew and trusted her more than anyone he’d met in Cape Pursuit.
There was only one thing to do. Charlie took her hand.
“We’ll get married,” he said.
Jane stared at him and opened her mouth.
Someone knocked loudly on the glass door of the art gallery, but Charlie ignored it. The delivery guy could wait. He needed to make sure Jane knew he was serious when he said he would take care of her.
“Our dinner is here,” she said.
How could she say that as if nothing had just happened?
“I just asked you to marry me.”
Jane nodded. “I know. Thank you. It’s a very nice offer.”
The knocking grew louder.
“What do you say?” Charlie asked.
Jane took her hand back. “We should answer the door.”
“The heck with the door. Will you marry me?”
“Why did you ask?”
Charlie thought he must be in the middle of a terrible practical joke. The driver was pounding on the door, and the woman carrying his child wanted to know why he wanted to marry her.
“It’s obvious why.”
Jane sat in the nearby chair. “Will you please go pay for our food?”
She was hungry. Pregnant and hungry, and he was harassing her for an answer. Charlie dug his wallet from his back pocket and strode to the front door. He handed the kid a much larger bill than necessary and took the bag back to the table where Jane sat looking stunned.
“I’m sorry,” Charlie said. “Eat something and we’ll talk.” He unpacked the food and set it neatly in front of her, then placed a napkin and plastic fork on her right. He sat across from her and took a bite of his eggroll. They were sharing a rational meal. Two adults facing a problem with friendship and bravery.
“Eat, Jane. You need it.”
She took a forkful of rice and chewed it slowly.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“It’s fine.”
“Not the food. What do you think about getting married?”
Jane put down her fork. “Thank you for asking, but no. I won’t marry you.”
CHAPTER NINE
“I FIND IT hard to believe that the woman who could calmly turn down a marriage proposal and then eat her orange chicken and fortune cookies could be in such a panic over a picture frame,” Nicole observed. When Jane had gotten home a few nights earlier and told her friend the bombshell and proposal story, they had stayed up late talking it through. Although Jane had asked how Nicole’s ride home with Kevin went, Nicole had downplayed it as a quick drop-off.
But it had been more than that. Being alone with him in his pickup had felt as if they were becoming friends. It had reminded her Kevin was not just a firefighter—he was a man. She’d wondered what he had in his refrigerator and what he watched on television after a long day. They’d hardly spoken on the short drive. He’d waited in her driveway until she was safely inside the house before backing onto the street and driving away.
“It’s my fault we’re down to the wire on this,” Jane said. “I decided to put a nicer frame on that painting and now it’s the day of the party.”
Jane finished gift wrapping Kevin’s painting, tied a ribbon around it and used a pair of scissors to curl the tails. A week had gone by since Kevin and his brother came to the shop, and Nicole found it hard to believe Jane had put off the project until the last minute, even if they’d been busy.
“I told him we’d deliver it this afternoon. To his house,” Jane said.
Nicole wrinkled her brow. “Why can’t he pick it up?”
“We close in fifteen minutes. I thought it would be no problem to drop it off on the way home. He worked late because of an emergency, so he rushed home to clean up. His mother’s party is at six.”
The foghorn sounded and a group of tourists came in. It had been a busy Friday, with more crowds arriving for the upcoming weekend. There were already a half dozen people in the shop. Several of them had asked questions about the paintings and appeared interested.
Business was gaining speed. Two of Nicole’s photographs had sold the day before and she and Jane had celebrated with comfort food and Under the Tuscan Sun.
Jane left the gift-wrapped painting on the counter behind the register and greeted the new arrivals, offering to help them select a piece of art. The clock ticked toward closing time, but Nicole knew from experience Jane would stay open as long as there was a paying customer in the gallery. Every sale counted.
Nicole approached Jane and an older couple who were dressed in expensive clothing. They were asking questions about a very large and pricy painting. As Nicole tried to catch Jane’s eye to point out the time, the older gentleman asked about changing the matting.
“Excuse me just one moment,” Jane said to them. She took Nicole’s arm and led her toward the register. “I think I’m going to sell the big one,” she whispered. “Can you deliver Kevin’s painting?”
Nicole sucked in a breath. Of course she would. Jane was her best friend, and she wouldn’t stand in the way of making a sale that would pay her rent for the month. She realized she had no idea where Kevin lived.
“I know he’s not your favorite,” Jane said. “But it was my fault for blabbing your business to him, not his.”
“I’m not mad about that,” Nicole said. “I understand why you told him. You were trying to protect me. Don’t worry. I can handle this if you just give me directions to his house.”
Jane put a hand on Nicole’s arm. “Are you sure?”
No.
“Completely.”
Nicole laid the wrapped painting on the back seat of her car and made sure it couldn’t slide around by fencing it in place with an old blanket. She hadn’t written down Jane’s directions. A navy blue house with a red front door was not going to be hard to find. Especially on a street of beachy-colored rentals just a few blocks from the fire station.
She saw his brown pickup truck when she was several houses away. The dent on the driver’s side activated her curiosity. But not as much as the house. Dark navy blue, white trim around the windows, glaring white garage door—she guessed the garage was too small for his truck or was full of junk—and a bright red front door.
The colors would look great in a wardrobe for a cruise or a resort vacation, but they were all wrong for a house. Nicole parked next to Kevin’s truck, took the neat, narrow walk to the front door and rang the bell. She didn’t hear the bell ring inside the house, but she did hear howling. Beagle howling.
Maybe the guy didn’t need a doorbell with his dog around.
The red door swung open and Kevin stood there in black dress pants and bare feet. His white shirt was unbuttoned all the way, flapping open and showing off his impressive chest
and abs. His hair was wet.
“Nicole,” he said, surprised.
She held up the painting. It was easier than trying to think of anything to say. He took the painting, his fingers brushing hers on the edge of the frame.
“Thank you. You saved my life by bringing this over.”
“I thought lifesaving was your job.”
He grinned. “Not always.”
Arnold scooted under Kevin’s feet and whined. Nicole leaned over and scratched his head, glad to have a distraction.
“Can you come in?” he asked.
Definitely not.
“Just for a minute,” she answered, emotion trumping brains. “I see you’re in a hurry.”
“I’ll be on time now that you delivered the gift.” He glanced toward the driveway. “You got your car back!”
He laid the painting on a table just inside the door and stepped past Nicole. “Is it okay? Did they do a nice job?” He’d already walked around to the driver’s side. He examined the door, running his fingers along it.
“All better,” she said. “I picked it up a few days ago.” She smiled. “It took six weeks, just like they said. Apparently they had to order a whole new door and it came on a slow truck from Michigan.”
Kevin dipped his head until his chin almost touched his chest. “Sorry,” he said.
That chin-dipping look of his was irresistible. She was going to have to try hard to resist it.
“When I picked it up, I expected to have to pay my five hundred dollar deductible, but the manager said it had been taken care of. He refused to give me any information about who paid it. Do you know anything about that?”
Kevin reddened and ran his fingers through his wet hair.
“I thought so,” Nicole said. “Thank you.”
“You shouldn’t have to pay for someone else’s mistakes.”
“But it was my mistake. That’s what I get for being one of those double-parking sons of guns.”
Kevin laughed. “Come in. I’ll pour you a soda if you’ll help me pick out a tie.”
Nicole waited for Arnold to hoist himself over the threshold and then went inside as Kevin held the door.
“Nice place,” she said.
“Except for the color.”
She shrugged. “It’s unusual.”
“It was a failure in judgment. Navy blue is my favorite color, so I thought it would look great on a house. I couldn’t understand why no one else had a dark blue house.” He grinned. “Now I know.”
“You could always repaint it.”
He shrugged. “I could. And I probably will when I get time. It seems to bother other people more than it bothers me. Like my landlord. He thought it was great that I was painting the house for free until he saw it. I may never get my deposit back.”
He led the way to the kitchen. His house looked like a magazine ad for cleaning products. Shining floors. Clean windows. No dog hair on the navy blue living room couch. Same story in the kitchen. White cabinets with no finger smudges, stainless refrigerator with no smudges, dog food bowl by a back door, no mess around the bowl. Table for two, no junk stacked on the table. Not even unopened mail. Keys hung neatly on a wood plaque shaped and painted like a fire truck.
“Your house is very clean,” she said.
“Easy to keep it that way. It’s tiny, it’s just me and Arnold and I’m not home much.”
“Have you had Arnold since he was a puppy?” Nicole asked.
Kevin opened a cabinet over the toaster and took a clean glass from a neat row. He opened the fridge and looked inside, his back to her.
“He was left with me by someone who was...going away.”
“Recently?”
“She left almost two years ago,” he said. “Arnold was the best thing I got from that relationship.” He turned and faced Nicole. “I have root beer and iced tea,” he continued, eyebrows raised in a question.
“Iced tea.”
He poured her glass full and handed it to her.
“Have you sold any of your pictures at the gallery?”
He has no right to be so attractive and thoughtful. It wasn’t fair. She sipped her tea. “Two sold yesterday.”
He smiled. “That’s great. On top of being a business guru, you’re an artist, too.”
A business guru? Was that what he thought of her? If he only knew that Jane didn’t need a business manager any more than she needed a full-time roofer or plumber on staff. It had taken Nicole about a day and a half to realize Jane was doing just fine with her accounts.
“I have an MBA, but I’ve discovered I don’t really need it to run a tourist gallery.”
“Doesn’t hurt.”
“No, but I’m spending more time on Jane’s web page than her tax records. We’re going online with sales and promotion.”
“We?”
“Mostly Jane.”
“And what do you want to do?”
“I’m trying to figure that out,” Nicole admitted.
Kevin pulled out a chair for her. “I hope now that you’ve got your car back you don’t plan to leave Cape Pursuit.”
She shook her head. “No plans to go anywhere. Except home. I should head out. You’re on your way to a party.”
“Can you wait just a second?” he asked. He dashed out of the kitchen. Nicole set her glass on the table and was considering sitting down when he loped back in.
He had three neckties dangling from his outstretched hand. All solid colors: red, blue and dark green.
“Which one?”
Nicole fingered the ties. Somewhat industrial material. His shirt was still open in front and he was standing very close to her, waiting.
“Red or blue would work. But I like the green one best.” She raised her face to look at him. His lips were eye level. Begging for her touch, her kiss. “It matches your eyes,” she whispered. She was a breathless fool but she couldn’t help it. Without the uniform he’d worn every other time she’d seen him, he was just a man. An attractive man.
And she was in his kitchen helping him pick out a tie.
She wished she had her camera to capture the way he looked. Instead of taking a picture, she put her hand on his bare chest.
That was all it took. His lips touched hers, gently at first, as if they were questioning their right to be there. She slipped her hand behind his head, touching his wet hair and pulling him closer. He dropped the ties on the floor and crushed her against his chest, kissing her as if he’d been waiting to do so for a year.
Her senses were on fire. Heat crept over her, ripples of sensation spreading from her lips to her feet. She’d had other kisses, other boyfriends. But it was very easy to forget them when all she could think about was wanting more of this.
This was a huge mistake.
Nicole pulled back and opened her eyes. She hadn’t realized they were closed. Kevin’s stormy green eyes were dark with desire.
“Are you coming up for air or should I start apologizing?” he asked. He dipped his chin and smiled, eyes still darkened.
“I started it,” she said. “I think.”
“How would you like it to end?”
It’s already over. She could not let herself go any further without losing herself.
She blew out a breath. “You need to get dressed and go to your party,” she said. As she spoke, she started buttoning his shirt. Her fingers shook, but she needed to cover up that bare skin, conceal those muscles before she lost any more control.
He stood still, watching her fasten his buttons. She finished the long row down the front and reached for his cuffs, turning his hand over to focus on his wrists. She did the same with both sleeves. Neither of them said a word.
Methodically dressing a man she had a hard time resisting was like carefully wrapping a present she wanted to keep for her
self. She had to give this one away. Letting herself fall for a firefighter would open an old wound she’d been working hard to close ever since she got to Cape Pursuit.
She bent and picked up the green tie. Slid it around his collar and started to tie it.
“Confession,” he said. His skin was hot under her fingers, even with the white broadcloth between them. She could only imagine what he was going to confess to. She had plenty of things she would regret in a saner moment.
“I can tie all kinds of rope knots, but I’m lousy at tying a necktie,” he said. He raised his chin to give her room to work. “I was hoping a beautiful woman would come along and save me. Especially one I’ve been crazy about since the first day I saw her.”
Nicole stopped. Since the first day? “You mean when you wrecked my car?”
He laughed, his Adam’s apple bobbing under her fingers as she tightened the tie. “That night in the bar when you sat next to me and let me have it.”
She smiled.
“I liked you right away,” he said. “Even if you did scare the pants off me.”
“That was my goal.”
“Getting me to like you?”
She straightened his tie and stepped back.
“How do I look?” he asked.
Like a fabulous gift I’m shipping off to someone else. “Good enough for your mother’s birthday party.”
He caught her hand. “Come with me.”
No way. “Can’t,” she said, shaking her head.
“Sure you can. We’ll have dinner, open gifts, take some pictures. My dad will eat too much cake and Mom will nag him about his blood sugar.”
“Is your dad a diabetic?”
He nodded. “Type 1, had it since he was a kid. Lives on an insulin pump. It’s why he never became a firefighter like his brother and...uh...well, it’s a family tradition.”
And it was time to be going. That was a family tradition she could never be part of.
CHAPTER TEN
DESCRIBING THE WEATHER in Cape Pursuit to her parents would just be mean, Nicole thought. The second week in June was sultry, the kind of weather Indianapolis only got for about two weeks a year—usually the first two weeks of the school year when it was as welcome as a sliver under a fingernail. Summer usually went too fast in her hometown, and she always tried to grab it before it got away. But last summer, grief sucked the joy out of every sunny day.
