As he walked into the musty weight room and stripped off his Barton Hills fire department sweatshirt to the T-shirt underneath, he wished he had a “cooking” stress reliever plan like Maggie did, because then he’d have something to show for his sleeplessness besides sore muscles and sweat-drenched clothes. He’d heard tales of how the guys woke up in the morning with the scent of freshly baked cinnamon rolls wafting through the station and right now nothing sounded better than home-made comfort food.
But bench presses were all he had, so he started his routine. When he’d finished, he started again. An hour later, he was hot and sweaty and physically exhausted, but he couldn’t face his bed just yet. Not with Maggie lying on the other side of a half-partition as a politically correct concession to her gender. He’d worked with only a handful of women over the years, but he’d never been attracted to them to the degree that he was toward Maggie. She made him feel emotions he hadn’t ever felt as well as made him wish for the impossible, which was probably why he’d tried to find reasons not to like her.
At least, he had until now.
A softly spoken “Can’t sleep?” caught him by surprise. Nearly dropping a forty-pound free weight on his foot, he cursed. “Hell, Maggie. You scared the sh—crap out of me. What are you doing up at this hour?”
She padded in, wearing the same department-issue sweats that he was, although as a concession to the hot-blooded guys who turned down the air-conditioning to near-frigid levels, she was wearing a hooded sweatshirt instead of a T. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“Don’t. Just go back to bed.”
“No can do. I wouldn’t be much of a partner if I ignored you when you were hurting.”
“I’m fine.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t insult my intelligence, Joe. You can pretend to be this unfeeling fellow to the rest of the world, but not to me. We’re partners. If you can’t be honest with me, who can you be honest with?”
He hesitated. “True.”
“Mrs Merton’s death reminded you of Dee’s.”
He couldn’t deny it. “In a way.”
“And it bothers you.”
“A little,” he prevaricated, aware of how his admission went contrary to the lecture he’d given her over Hilda Myers. “I suppose next you’ll rub my nose in how unobjective I’m being.”
At first she didn’t answer. “I would have thought by now you’d know me better than that,” she chided gently. “Some accidents have a bigger impact on us than others. You’ve surely had patients who tugged at your heart before now. Patients who, for whatever reason, reminded you of a family member you loved?”
He’d thought of the drunks he’d hauled to the hospital, the men who’d thought the answer to everything lay in their fists. Oh, he’d seen plenty of men like his father, but no one in the loving category she described. Except for Dee. “No.”
She blinked. “No one?”
“No one,” he said firmly.
“Not even a little bit?” She pinched her fingers together in the air.
“No.”
“Gee, Joe. You give new meaning to the word ‘detached.’” She sounded exasperated.
He’d always been careful not to let himself get too close to anyone. Some might say he was cold, but it was safer that way. “Emotions interfere with our objectivity, and then we become less effective in the field.”
“So you’ve said before. And yet Dee was different—the exception to your rule.”
His deep sigh seemed to originate in his feet. “She was.”
“As painful as it is for you to lose a friend, if you didn’t feel something, I’d really worry about you.”
The concept of someone worrying about him was foreign and made him uncomfortable. Then again, it was more disconcerting to be alone with her in a room where a padded mat lay in the corner as he saw her long curly hair hanging in disarray around her face, being painfully aware of how her sweatsuit didn’t completely disguise her soft curves. He swiped the perspiration off his face with a hand towel, wishing women hadn’t been allowed to enter this profession.
Not all women, he corrected himself. Only Maggie. Thanks to his job, she was the one woman he shouldn’t have as long as they worked together, regardless of how much she stirred him in ways he shouldn’t be stirred.
“Tell me about her,” she said as she straddled another weight bench.
After being paired alongside Maggie for three weeks, he’d learned one thing. She was like a pit-bull fighting over a bone when she wanted information. “There’s really not much to tell,” he prevaricated.
“Of course there is. What brought you two together in the first place?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Of course. We’re partners, remember? If it will make you feel better, whatever you say in this room stays in this room. I don’t kiss and tell.”
He mentally groaned, wishing she hadn’t said the word kiss. It reminded him of the one they’d shared yesterday—the one he’d like to repeat, but couldn’t. At least, not here in the station where it could spell suicide for his career if he was caught. As being a paramedic was his life, he couldn’t foolishly jeopardize it just to scratch a temporary itch, regardless of how intense that itch was.
Wanting her to leave for his peace of mind and knowing she wouldn’t until she got what she came for, he capitulated. He placed the weight back on its stand, straddled a bench and swiped his face again with his towel. “What do you want to know?” he asked wearily.
“How did you meet? Did you know her long? Did she make you laugh, that sort of thing?”
“She was an evening shift waitress at the restaurant near the apartment I had. I’d drop in for a piece of pie late at night and we’d talk. After I learned she lived in a housing complex not far from me, I started walking her home.”
After a few such nights she’d invited him to stay for breakfast, and he had, but it seemed tacky to share that detail, especially with a woman he’d love to see across his own breakfast table.
“What was she like?”
“Quiet. Smiled a lot, but didn’t say much. She was taking a court reporter course. She grew up in foster-care like I did.” He didn’t know why he tacked on that last piece of information, but it seemed important for Maggie to understand their shared background had been the glue that had cemented their friendship.
“When did you see her last?”
“I moved out of the neighborhood not quite a year and a half ago. Haven’t seen or heard from her since.” He paused. “I still can’t believe she named me as Breanna’s father. Shouldn’t she have told me if little Bee was mine? Truly mine?”
Maggie shrugged. “She obviously had her reasons for doing what she did.”
“I wish I knew what they were.” In spite of Dee’s desire to have a houseful of kids, he’d always been adamant that parenting wasn’t an option for him because he wouldn’t risk repeating his father’s mistakes. Why Dee would circumvent his express wish was a mystery he wanted solved. The only logical explanation was that Breanna was in fact, his, that their birth control had failed as a result of a freak cosmic joke, but he refused to accept the possibility.
“But you still believe some other fellow was in the picture?”
“I’m sure of it,” he said flatly. “And I intend to find him, if I can.”
“I wish you luck with your quest, Joe.” She stifled a yawn. “Meanwhile, the only thing I want to find is my pillow so I can hit the hay before the alarm goes off. Are you coming, or do you need a mug of hot chocolate first?”
Her invitation to return to their respective beds was innocent but, oh, how he wished it weren’t! If Maggie knew the direction of his thoughts, she’d probably bar him from the room.
“I’m coming.” He followed her to the door, his towel slung around his neck.
In the hallway, she turned abruptly to face him and he nearly barreled into her. “A piece of advice, Donatelli.”
“What’s tha
t?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Hit the shower before you bunk down. The guys will dream about skunks invading the station if you don’t.” Her wide grin softened her uncomplimentary comment.
A chuckle worked its way out of his throat. “You don’t care for the locker-room smell?”
“Not when I’m trying to sleep.”
He faked a long-suffering sigh. “OK. Anything to make my partner happy…”
She sauntered off with a smile that lingered in his memory until he’d finally settled into his bunk. It was a smile that he’d never tire of seeing and one he’d never forget.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE report of a warehouse fire in the manufacturing district woke Maggie out of a sound sleep at 4:00 a.m. and sent her entire station crew to the scene. Although she and Joe had begun their careers as firefighters, the Barton Hills Fire Department was staffed with enough personnel so the paramedics could stand by to do what they did best. Firefighting was hard, dirty work, and although the staff was well trained, not everyone returned to the station unscathed. Minor burns, smoke inhalation and falls were only a few of the conditions Maggie had treated during her tenure.
Barring anything serious, her job—and Joe’s—was to ensure that the men remained hydrated and allowed themselves enough of a break to recover from their activities before they returned to the action. At the moment Maggie was watching the first streaks of dawn appear in the sky as she leaned against the ambulance’s front bumper.
“I feel guilty just standing and watching while everyone else is working their tails off,” she commented to Joe. “Especially during the winter months when it’s cold.”
“Don’t feel too guilty,” he said before he glanced at his wrist. “Shep and Jimbo will be paying us a visit before long. They’re on their second oxygen bottle and by my watch, they’re both almost out of air. After that, we’ll be hard-pressed to keep up.”
As each man was allowed two thirty-minute bottles of oxygen, which lasted about fifteen to twenty minutes under strenuous activity, they would be rotating out of the line for rehab. Then, as Joe had said, they would both be busy until their colleagues controlled the fire.
Joe’s prediction came true minutes later. The two men he’d mentioned trudged to the ambulance, reeking of smoke and breathing hard as sweat trickled down their sooty faces.
“How are you guys doing?” she asked as she ushered them inside the back of the vehicle and helped Shep remove his coat while Joe did the same for Jimbo.
“Helluva way to wake up,” Shep stated.
“Yeah, but that’s why we get paid the big bucks,” Jimbo quipped facetiously.
“Yeah, but I was in the middle of a great dream,” Shep groused good-naturedly as he held out his hand while Maggie clipped the pulse oximeter to a finger. “I was sitting in my boat in the middle of the lake and the fish were biting as fast as I threw in my line.”
“You were dreaming, weren’t you?” she teased.
“I’ll say. I was in the middle of landing a beauty,” he mourned. “Now I’ll never know if I caught him or not.”
She quickly took Shep’s vital signs. His pulse rate was elevated, which was to be expected. So was his blood pressure, but only marginally, and his oxygen saturation level remained high. After a short break to drink a bottle of water, she released him for duty, while Joe did the same for Jimbo.
The firefighters all rotated through med rehab, one after another, until the warehouse was reduced to a pile of smoldering embers. Just when Maggie was certain they were going to wrap up the operation and head back to the station, there was a flurry of activity at the far end of the property.
Joe’s two-way radio squawked before the captain’s voice came through. “Man injured. Squad Two, stand by.”
Maggie glanced at Joe. “I wonder what happened?”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” he said grimly. “But from the looks of things…” he gazed across the lot “…it can’t be too bad if our patient is walking.”
A few yards away, Jimbo was supporting a white-faced Shep as they ambled toward them.
Maggie rushed to Shep’s side and helped support him the remaining few steps to the ambulance. “What happened?”
“I tripped. Fell on my arm,” Shep managed to say as he sank onto the gurney that Joe had fashioned into a chair so he could sit upright. “Can’t raise my arm. Hurts like the dickens. Feels like the last time I dislocated my shoulder.”
Maggie opened his clothing and saw an obvious deformity.
“I think you’re right,” she told him, “but we’ll let the doctor decide.”
Muttering several choice expletives, Shep closed his eyes and leaned against the mattress as Maggie splinted his arm so as not to jar the bones during transport.
At the hospital, the doctor agreed. “We’ll get X-rays just to be sure,” he said, “and then we’ll reduce the dislocation. Shouldn’t take too long if you guys want to stick around and take him back with you.”
“We’ll wait,” Joe decided. “We need to pick up a few supplies anyway.”
“I’ll have one of the nurses let you know when we’re finished.”
Clearly dismissed, Maggie followed Joe into the hallway. “Do you have the supply list on you or shall I run out and get it?”
Joe grabbed her arm and steered her toward the elevators. “It’s in my pocket, but we’re going to have breakfast first.”
“Hungry, eh?” she teased.
“Starving,” he answered. “And today is waffle day.”
“I didn’t know you liked waffles.”
He grinned. “You’ll find I’m not too choosy, but I’ll admit breakfast is my favorite meal.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really,” he said firmly. “Are you going to quit dawdling so we can get to the cafeteria before they’re all gone? They go fast.”
“I doubt if they’ll run out.” She smiled at his impatience but picked up her stride because Joe was already several steps ahead of her. Good thing, too, because Joe got the last two.
“Maybe they’ll make more,” she offered.
“Maybe,” he answered hopefully. “Told you they were a hot item.”
“Who would have thought?” she said wryly as she selected scrambled eggs, two slices of bacon and a small bowl of sliced fresh fruit. “I feel guilty for eating breakfast while everyone else is missing theirs.”
“If we hadn’t come down here, what would we have done?” he asked in a pragmatic tone. “Bought a stale donut from a machine and ate it in the staff lounge?”
“Probably.”
“And which is healthier for us?”
She watched him drench his waffles in maple syrup. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
“No.” His boyish grin made her heart do funny things in her chest. From the admiring looks he was getting from several nurses nearby, she wasn’t the only one affected by his smile. At the same time, she wanted to preen under their gazes because she was the one who had his undivided attention. Better yet, she was more than a breakfast companion. She was his partner as well as the woman he trusted with his daughter.
However, it would be wise for her to remember that she was only the woman of the hour for now. Arthur had taught her that a mother figure could be easily replaced and he didn’t have a fraction of the appeal that Joe Donatelli, fireman and paramedic, had.
“What are you going to do for the next two days?” he asked as he seemingly inhaled his meal.
“Today I’m going with a friend to shop for her wedding dress,” she said.
“Where?” As Maggie narrowed her eyes speculatively, he added, “In case I need to reach you.”
Just as she’d thought. He was scared to death of spending time alone with Breanna. “We’re going to Kansas City.”
“What time will you be home?”
His seemingly innocent tone didn’t fool her. “Does it matter?”
His olive complexion darkened. “I thought you migh
t like to come over for dinner tonight.”
She was still having trouble reconciling this new cooperative and congenial Joe Donatelli with the old one, although admittedly she liked this version much better. “Dinner?”
“Yeah. I could throw a few burgers on the grill.”
“Sounds great, but I’d better not promise anything,” she said. “My friend, Trista, has vowed we’re not coming home until she finds The Dress. How about tomorrow?”
“You don’t have plans?”
“Other than working in my flower-beds, no. In fact, Breanna might like to dig in the dirt and I can always use someone who’s handy with a shovel.”
“Fair enough. We’ll drive over first thing. You know what they say, ‘The early bird gets the worm.’”
Somehow, she suspected he was already dreading the next twenty-four hours. She was also woman enough to be delighted by his eagerness to spend time with her, even if Breanna was the only reason for it.
“This bird isn’t interested in worms,” she said lightly. “Ten o’clock should be early enough for all of us.”
Joe braced himself for the day ahead, but in spite of his pep talk that he could handle whatever happened with Breanna, a familiar knot of tension formed between his shoulder blades as soon as Nancy left the house. Resigned to the feeling for the foreseeable future and remembering Maggie’s comment about how Breanna reacted to his anxiety, he tried to relax.
“OK, little Bee,” he told the little girl as he sat at the table to feed her breakfast. “It’s just you and me today, so let’s try to make it go smoothly.”
Breanna jiggled her ring of plastic keys and laughed at the noise she’d made before she opened her mouth like a baby bird for a spoonful of oatmeal.
She was happy—a good sign—and he was hopeful of success.
“So what should we do today?” he asked her. “Another trip to the park? Television? Or does a sandbox of your very own sound like fun? Nancy said you really liked playing in the one at the park yesterday.”
The little girl smacked her lips and grunted in reply.
Emergency: Parents Needed Page 7
