Five Alarm Neighbor

by Anna Leigh Keaton

  She'd just pulled some crackers from the cupboard to go along with the sliced cheese, when he came out of the bedroom fully dressed in jeans and white Cooper Valley FD T-shirt.

  He stopped on the other side of the counter from her and stared at her for a long moment, while she avoided his gaze.

  "Carol called yesterday while you were sleeping,” he finally said. “She's going to stop by today after she gets off work. About three-thirty, she said."

  Gracie carefully laid a slice of cheese on a square cracker and took a small bite. The tangy taste of it nearly choked her. Please go away, she silently begged.

  He settled his fists on the countertop. “Gracie..."

  "You'll be late for work,” she said, her throat painfully tight with more tears.

  "I'll call you,” he said. Then he picked up his jacket and strode out the front door.

  "Sure you will.” Another tear streaked down her cheek and she angrily brushed it away. Was there ever a stupider person on the face of the earth? she wondered. What kind of knucklehead can't even have a quick affair with a totally hot man and keep her heart in place?

  She took her cheese and crackers back to her room, crawled into the bed that still smelled of sex and Steve, and pulled the blankets up to her chin. “Gracie,” she said to herself. “You're one dumb bitch."

  * * * *

  "Gracie! Open up!"

  The thumping on the front door roused her from a drugging sleep filled with visions of Steve's body. His thick cock. Wide shoulders. Skilled hands.

  "Gracie! Are you okay?"

  Carol.

  Gracie threw back the covers and made to jump out of bed, forgetting about her bruised body. She groaned and almost landed on the floor. “Just a minute,” she called as loud as she could. Still wearing the robe, she limped to the front door and opened it.

  Carol stood in the crisp afternoon light hugging a huge bouquet of coral-colored roses. “Hey, sweetie,” she said with a big grin. “Met the delivery guy in the driveway.” She raised her arms to signify the roses. “These are for you."

  Gracie frowned, stepped aside to let her friend in. “From the school?"

  Carol set the bouquet on the coffee table and pulled the card from the clear plastic holder. “Nope. Got a bunch of get-well wishes from the staff and your students in my purse.” Carol handed the card to her after she shut the door. “I'm assuming these are ... ah ... a bit more personal?” Carol winked.

  Gracie moved to the couch and slowly lowered herself down. She leaned forward and sucked in the sweet fragrance of the roses. They had to be from the school. Who else would send her such an expensive array of at least two-dozen roses?

  Carol sat down next to her and studied her face. “You look like hell, Gracie."

  Gracie scowled at her best friend. Carol had only been at Cooper Valley High since the fall semester started but something had clicked between them, even though they were totally opposite in every way. Carol was the school librarian, fresh out of college and a nasty divorce. She was quiet and shy, and dressed like an old lady, but she was the sweetest, biggest-hearted woman Gracie had ever known.

  "I'm doing better,” Gracie informed her, then sat back on the couch. “Still a bit achy, but much better."

  Carol tilted her head sideways and shoved the thick black-rimmed glasses up her nose. “Is that all?"

  Gracie downright frowned at her. “What else would it be?"

  Carol shrugged. “The hunky fireman from next door?” A little grin tilted her lips, making her beautiful, even though she hid her beauty so well. “He was acting all caveman and protective the other night. Wouldn't let me talk to you the three times I called yesterday because you were sleeping. I was worried he was holding you captive or something."

  Even though the reminder of Steve hurt, Gracie couldn't help but chuckle. “You read too many romance novels."

  Carol's grin turned into a big smile. “Yeah, well, I know what I'd do if I were being held prisoner by someone who looked like him."

  "Do tell,” Gracie teased.

  Carol blushed bright red and looked away. She cleared her throat and pushed her glasses up. “Aren't you going to see who they're from?"

  Gracie ripped open the envelope. Instead of the little floral card that usually accompanied a bouquet, out fell a folded sheet of notebook paper. Oh, no, she thought. Not another kid who couldn't draw the line between teacher and student.

  "Uh oh,” Carol said, as if reading her thoughts.

  Gracie carefully unfolded the paper, her mind racing over the faces of each of her seventy students. Who might it be this year, and how did she deal with this one? Last year she'd taken the love letter to Bob, the principal, and let him deal with it. It was by far the safest course to follow, and the student in question never again attended her class. But word had somehow gotten out, and the boy had been embarrassed. She hated to see any of her kids in pain.

  The handwriting wasn't from a student; she could tell that right off. The strokes were bold and mature. She glanced at the bottom to see: XOXO Steve. Her heart thudded in her throat as she went back to the top of the letter.

  Chapter Nine

  Gracie dear,

  When I asked the florist the difference between the flowers in the case, she handed me a list of colors and what each meant. So many fit you, it took a while for me to choose. Red is for beauty, courage and passion. You have all three in spades. White is for youthfulness and charm. There is so much of each inside you. Yellow is for friendship and joy, and I have found both in you. Pink is for gentleness and admiration. I've seen your gentle side and I've never admired anyone more. But coral is for desire.

  Above all things, I desire you.

  Forgive me for hurting you this morning. Let me make it up to you?

  XOXO Steve.

  Below that was two phone numbers. One was his cell, the other the fire station.

  "Well?” Carol asked when Gracie glanced from the paper to the roses. “Which one gets to go see Bob this semester?"

  "It's not from a student,” Gracie murmured, confusion swamping her. If he hadn't been saying goodbye this morning, what had it all been about?

  Carol grabbed the sheet of paper from her hand, then squealed like a little girl. “Oh, he's got it bad for you!"

  Gracie shook her head. No. He didn't have it bad for her. Desire wasn't the same as love. Nothing but lust, she told herself, even as a tiny spark of hope flared to life.

  Then she squashed that warm, tender feeling blossoming somewhere near her heart. She didn't want him to love her. She didn't want to feel any sparks of hope for a future with Steve. There was no future with him, she firmly told herself.

  I'm not done with you yet, he'd said. That's all it was. He wanted more sex. That was good, right? That's all she'd wanted from him from the first.

  "I desire you,” Carol said, then giggled. “Oh, God, I swear if I ever got a letter like this, I'd just die."

  Gracie looked over at her friend. Carol grinned at her. “You going to call him?"

  She took the paper back from Carol and carefully refolded it, gently put it back in the envelope. “I have to think."

  "What's there to think about?” Carol asked, her brow puckering into a frown. “Two dozen long-stemmed roses. A love letter. Jeez, girl, just what would you have to think about?"

  "It's not what you think, Car,” Gracie said, slipping the envelope into the pocket of her robe.

  "Oh, no,” Carol groaned. “This isn't one of your anti-hero things, is it? Did you boot him out? Did he get too close to that big ol’ lock on your heart?"

  Broke the lock, she almost said, but bit her tongue. Carol knew all her secrets, even how she'd lusted after her sexy next door neighbor since the day he moved in, though Gracie had left out a few pertinent details about one August afternoon last summer.

  "It's just sex,” Gracie said, even as a sharp pain pierced that tender heart. “And you know I'd never get involved with someone who risked their life
for a living. That would be plain stupid of me."

  "You're a cliché, Gracie."

  Gracie grimaced. “What's that supposed to mean?"

  "You're going to die a lonely old woman if you don't let someone besides me into your heart."

  Carol was right, she realized. But she'd die a lonely old woman if she got seriously involved with Steve, too. Because a hero's lifespan wasn't all that long. Her own father had only been thirty-six when the avalanche got him.

  Besides, Steve wasn't looking for long-term. He wanted right now. The only decision she had to make was if she wanted right now to last just a little longer or not. And if her heart could take any more beatings.

  * * * *

  It was after eleven that night before Carol left. They'd ordered Chinese food and watched an old Cary Grant movie on PBS. With food in her belly and another good cry over the silly romance, she headed to bed after locking up.

  As she crawled up onto her high bed, the paper in her robe pocket crinkled. Not that she needed a reminder of Steve. Even when she and Carol talked about nothing and everything as they watched the movie and ate too many calories, he was almost a tangible presence in the room. At least to her. The subtle scent of the roses would catch her at odd times, bringing back to her every word of the letter.

  The letter. With a sigh she flipped on the bedside lamp and pulled the envelope from her pocket.

  What did it all mean? she wondered as she reread it. “I desire you,” Gracie said softly.

  Did she want more of him?

  Yes.

  Did she like it when he talked dirty, pretended to be dominant and fucked the hell out of her?

  Definitely.

  What about when he held her close and whispered softly in her ear?

  Oh, God, yes.

  That was the problem, though. When he held her close and whispered ... it was almost too much. That's when her heart beat faster with something other than lust. When those thirty-foot high brick walls she'd so carefully constructed around her heart began to crumble.

  But could she give it all up yet?

  She rolled over, grabbed the phone from the side of the bed, and punched in the number of his cell phone before she lost her nerve.

  "Gracie?” he answered on the first ring. His voice was low, little more than a whisper.

  "Uh ... yeah,” she stammered.

  "I was afraid you wouldn't call. Hold on babe. Want to get out of the bunkroom."

  She heard a spring creak, and then a door close.

  "I'm here,” he said, his voice still whisper-soft.

  A shiver raced down her spine and she curled up in a ball, hugging her knees. “Thank you for the roses. They're beautiful."

  "Gracie. Baby. I'm so sorry about this morning. I should have kept my hands to myself. I should have known better..."

  She frowned, confused, when he paused.

  "Baby, if I was hurting you, why didn't you tell me to stop?"

  Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid Gracie! She pushed the heel of her hand against her eye. He'd meant he was sorry he hurt her. Hurt as in physical pain.

  She let out a gusty sigh. “You didn't hurt me, Steve.” She shook her head in disgust at her own foolishness.

  "Don't lie to me, Gracie. I saw it in your eyes. God, I could just ... I swear Gracie, I swear I'll—"

  "Steve. Shut up.” She decided she didn't want to hear anymore about how sorry he was that he physically hurt her when he'd given her nothing but pleasure that morning. Right up until he said he had to go to work. Maybe she'd taken it wrong. Maybe he'd been so extra tender with her because she was injured. Maybe things could go back to the way they'd been before...

  "Sorry."

  "I'm fine now.” She blew out a quick breath. “Well, fine about this morning. I think my ... hormones are off kilter or ... residual shock or something. I don't know. You didn't hurt me, I swear.” She bit her lip for a second then pushed on. “Where do we stand? Our ... our whatever it is? Is it over?"

  The long, silent pause suffocated her. “Steve?"

  "I don't want it to be."

  Air whooshed out of her lungs. Relief and terror. Relief that she'd have him again. That he'd be with her. Terror that when their affair did end, she'd be left in emotional shambles. “Me either."

  "Oh, thank God,” he said. “I thought ... Baby, I have to go out of town for a few days. I won't be back until next Friday."

  She pulled the phone away from her ear and frowned at it, as if he could see her face.

  "...Chicago ... building collapsed ... search and recovery ... O-five-hundred."

  She put the phone back to hear ear. “What did you just say?"

  "A building in Chicago. The lower levels were already occupied, but the upper levels were still under construction. Some snafu happened this afternoon and the whole thing collapsed. Chicago put out a call for search and recovery workers. The lieutenant is sending my crew because we've had the most experience. We leave at five tomorrow morning."

  "Search and recovery,” she said softly. That's what her dad had been doing when ... “You should be sleeping then. I'm sorry I called so late."

  "Don't be. Now I can go and not worry that ... I'm glad you called, babe."

  "Please be careful."

  "I'll be home Friday evening. Have dinner with me?"

  She smiled a bit, trying to chase the worry from her mind. “Come over to my place when you get home. I'll have something waiting for you."

  "Oh, baby.” His voice dropped to a satiric growl. “I hope that means what I think it means."

  Warmth flowed through her, touching her everywhere. “See you Friday."

  "G'night, Gracie love."

  Her breath caught for a second. “What did you say?” she demanded, but he was already gone.

  Gracie love. Not Gracie dear. Hadn't he said that before? When they were having sex? She couldn't remember, but if he had said it before, it hadn't registered then.

  She hung up the phone and turned off the light.

  He didn't mean it, she told herself repeatedly as she scrunched down into her blankets. Just another endearment. Steve Sheldon was nothing more than a big flirt who wasn't done with her yet. He desired her. That's all. Desire. Lust. Want. Maybe even crave for a while.

  That's all.

  Chapter Ten

  Steve dialed Gracie's number as he hopped in his truck at the airport's long term parking. They'd spoken on the phone every night he'd been away, though not for long. He'd been exhausted. Depressed by the senseless destruction they'd encountered in Chicago. The construction company, working months behind schedule, had let the building's owner open the bottom ten floors of a new forty-story building before it was complete. Dozens of people had been buried under the wreckage of the collapse. The structure had been unsound. Hundreds of laws broken by city inspectors. The investigation would go on for months.

  "Hello?” Gracie said over the line.

  "Hi, babe. I'm at the airport. Be home in about twenty minutes.” He started the truck to let it warm up.

  "I'm ready for you."

  Her voice was husky, sexy. His cock jumped to life, and he had the urge to gun the engine and tear out of the parking lot.

  Instead he leaned back in the seat and grinned. “Are you?"

  "Uh huh."

  "What are you wearing?"

  Her low chuckle was filled with erotic promises. “Something I picked up at Sexyfun this afternoon."

  Sexyfun was Cooper Valley's only lingerie and sex toy shop. He laid his hand over his unruly dick. “What would your students think if they knew you shopped there?"

  She laughed. “I have a roast in the oven. It'll be ready in a couple of hours. Better get here soon, or we'll only have time to ... eat."

  He groaned. “You are so fucking hot."

  "Hot. Bothered. And really wet."

  "I'm on my way.” He put the truck in gear and drove toward the parking lot exit.

  "The front door's unlocked. Come to th
e bedroom. I'll be waiting.” She hung up.

  He tossed the phone on the seat and turned out of the lot onto the highway, barely able to keep the truck at the posted speed limit.

  * * * *

  Gracie dropped the kitchen phone into its cradle and dashed into the bedroom. She talked a good game, but could she pull it off? She ripped her food-splattered sweatshirt over her head and tossed it in the hamper. Kicking off her tennis shoes, she wiggled out of her jeans. Grabbing the black plastic bag from the sex store, she skittered into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

  Steve had obviously come in on an earlier flight. He'd said he would be home at seven. A glance at the clock told her it was just past five. Dinner was cooking, but the rest of her plans might go down the drain if she didn't hurry.

  * * * *

  Steve pulled up in front of the duplex. All the lights were off in both sides. His he'd expected, but hers?

  He grabbed his duffle from behind the seat and went to her door. It was unlocked, as she'd promised. Stepping inside, he opened his mouth to call out to her, but snapped it shut when he saw candles flickering around the room from every solid surface. The counter, the coffee table, the stone hearth.

  Dropping his bag by the door, he slowly made his way around the room, blowing out each candle as he went. Beautiful as it was, the firefighter in him couldn't leave them burning when they'd be in the bedroom for who knew how long.

  The bedroom door was closed. He knocked lightly. No answer. Holding his breath, he turned the knob and slowly pushed it open.

  Holy Christ.

  She'd turned her bedroom into a room made for sex.

  More candles flickered on the dresser, which had shadows dancing through the sheer gauze that hung from the ceiling. Satin sheets draped the bed in an erotic shade of red. Huge black satin pillows scattered haphazardly on top completed the setting. But where was ... ?

  "Take off your clothes."

  Steve turned toward the silky voice. Dressed in something black, she blended into shadow by the closet. All he could see were the whites of her eyes and pale patches of skin. He'd never thought something he couldn't see would prove to be so damn sexy.