He whispered her name reverently, lying back on the bed and then bringing her to rest on top of him. Her body sang with pleasure as she settled against him, reveling in his sheer masculinity and her femininity. Blood pounded through her; the need to be one with him was now urgent. Her lips brushed his mouth, teasing, nipping at each corner. His fingers wrapped within the silk of her hair, Gil growled, gently forcing her onto her back. He drew her head back against the pillow until her lips parted to receive his kiss. Instead, he ran his tongue around her hardened nipples, taunting her unmercifully, coaxing her body into a frenzied state of need. As his mouth settled over one peak, he nipped it gently, feeling her arch upward against his body in response.
She moaned his name, fingers digging deeply into his heavily muscled shoulders, begging him to enter. A primitive passion surged hotly through her aching body and she willingly parted her thighs as his knee settled between them. Each goading touch of his skillfull fingers sent her closer to the edge. “Now,” she rasped softly, begging him with her eyes, voice, and hands. “Please…”
Her breath stopped as his hand slid beneath her hips, lifting her upward to meet his thrust. An explosion of incredible pleasure jolted through her straining body and a cry broke from her lips. A tidal wave of joy surged through her and she joined him in a rhythm that carried her on soaring wings of fiery passion. He coaxed her beyond anything she had ever experienced, taking her on a spiraling, dizzying climb that climaxed in a volcanic release of utter pleasure. Leah collapsed against him. A tremulous smile fled across her lips as she felt him stiffen, find satiation within her and then grip her tightly to him seconds later. Weakly resting her head against the dampness of Gil’s arm, she closed her eyes, physically drained and yet unutterably happy.
Gil rolled to one side, bringing Leah to him once again. He kissed her damp forehead, her cheek, and finally her pouty, parted lips. A new fierceness welled up in his heart as he held Leah. She brought out a side of him he’d thought long dead. It was a miracle, he decided. He loved her.
Seven
“What the hell is this?” boomed Anders as he swept down the stairs to the bay where the arriving and departing crews were waiting. His face was livid as he angrily surveyed the men and one woman standing at attention beside the engines. “All right,” he growled, “I suppose you think it’s a real cute joke, Stevenson.”
Leah jerked her head to the left, meeting the chief’s narrowed eyes. “Sir?”
“In the bathroom,” Anders repeated heavily, scowling.
Leah gave him a confused look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chief.”
Someone down the line snickered and then all the men began to grin and laugh. Leah gave Gil an exasperated look. He shrugged.
“What is it, Chief?” Gil asked after the initial burst of giggles had died away.
Anders glared at his men. “I should have known…” he said, and then snapped, “The next man who pulls that kind of crap is gonna find himself doing duty cleaning up clogged ditches within the city limits. Got that? Dismissed!”
Completely perplexed, Leah took the stair steps two at a time. The two male crews mixed jovially down in the bay after Anders had disappeared. When she walked into the bathroom she stopped, gasping. There, suspended on a clothesline that had been ingeniously installed, hung a white bra that appeared to be a size 42-D cup. She tried to suppress her smile, but suddenly she broke into gales of laughter, her clear voice carrying through the bunk room. Footsteps echoing in the hall made her stop and she turned, wiping tears from her eyes. Gil appeared and he too halted, staring at the bra. A slow grin spread across his mouth and he began to laugh. Leah shook her head and went up on tiptoe to bring the bra down.
She held it out in front of her, grinning. “It’s a little big, don’t you think?”
“Slightly. Must be the guys’ wishful thinking,” Gil chuckled.
Leah colored and went over to her locker, stuffing it in the top compartment and locking it. “I wonder if it belongs to one of the guys in the off-going crew?”
“Don’t be so sure it was one of them,” Gil warned.
“You mean one of our guys came in early to rig this thing up?”
“Who knows?”
She managed a grin. “I think it’s kind of funny myself.”
“So do I. Come on, let’s get downstairs. We’ve got some work to do.”
The morning passed quickly and Leah noted that Gil’s crew seemed positively happy. Well, maybe that was what it took for her to be accepted: the picnic, a practical joke, and her own ability to laugh at herself. She had seen Anders twice and each time he nodded in her direction. It looked as if things were finally going to gel and she silently thanked whoever had arranged the voluminous bra fiasco.
At midmorning they all met in the kitchen to draw cards to see who would fix lunch and dinner. Leah groaned when she drew low card. “Okay,” she griped, smiling, “who’s fixing these cards? This is the fifth time in a row I’ve had kitchen duty since I fixed that pot roast!”
Apache grinned slyly and cast a look over at Gil. “Ain’t me. You keep this up and we’re all gonna get fat. My wife is complaining that I’m growing a potbelly just like Duke here.”
Saxon sneered, ignoring the happy banter as he continued to drink his coffee. “I ain’t got no complaints from my women. They all like my body.”
Leah colored fiercely, always embarrassed by his crude remarks. He did it deliberately, she was sure.
“Well, what will it be, guys?” She looked at each of them and they all hung back. “How about some okra, Sam?” she teased.
Wilson groaned. “Give me a break!” It was a well-known fact that he couldn’t stand the vegetable.
Gil smiled over at her as he went to the sink and poured himself another cup of coffee. It was an intimate smile, telling her that she was handling the men well. It bolstered her confidence more than anything else could have, and she decided to give them a taste of the real Leah Stevenson.
“Well, I could make spaghetti and meatballs with a ton of garlic in it,” she hinted, watching Apache’s eyes light up.
“Hey! That’s a great—” he piped up.
“Forget it,” Saxon droned.
“How about something different? A vegetarian meal?” she suggested.
“Do we look like rabbits?” Sam shot back. And the entire crew groaned collectively, giving her a beseeching look.
“How about that good Yankee pot roast?” Gil asked.
“You’ve had it three times in a row! You know, since I’m a woman, my repertoire of recipes covers more than one kind of meal.”
Apache howled, slapping his knee. “Hey! That’s a good one.”
“Just as long as it’s got plenty of potatoes, I’ll eat it,” Saxon said, throwing her a look of warning.
Leah ignored his dark scowl. “It’s about time you guys got a little more cosmopolitan in the taste-bud department. Whether you like it or not, I’m going to make beef Stroganoff tonight for dinner.”
That got a smile from all the men. Even Apache knew what it was, to her surprise. She puttered in the kitchen, making sure all the spices and other ingredients she needed were there. Pretty soon the men got busy with their individual assignments and the kitchen emptied. She happily made a cake, wanting to please them. This was a special day for everyone, and the change in the men’s attitudes infused the atmosphere at the firehouse with new buoyancy.
Around eleven, Gil came into the kitchen for his second cup of coffee. He looked over her shoulder as she stirred the cake ingredients furiously in the bowl. Smiling, he wiped a smudge of flour off her cheek.
“Anyone ever tell you how nice you look in the kitchen?”
She glanced at him. “Watch it or I’ll get flour on you, too,” she warned.
He sipped his coffee, leaning against the draining board and watching her with interest. “I didn’t mean it as a chauvinistic remark. Your cheeks are flushed and the hair around your temples has
curled from the sweat you’ve worked up by beating that poor mix to death.”
She grinned as she poured the batter into an oblong pan. After wiping her hands on the poor tattered excuse of an apron she wore, she placed the cake in the oven. “Just watch what you say or I’m liable to give you no dessert, fella.” She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. Gil joined her.
“Dessert comes in many forms,” he replied enigmatically. “Watching you is dessert, lady.”
The sudden huskiness of his voice sent a delicious wave of pleasure through her. “And I still think you’ve got a degree in blarney, Lieutenant Gerard.”
“Just so you don’t think last night was blarney,” he murmured seriously.
She blushed, shaking her head. Making sure that no one could hear them, she said, “Let’s not talk about that here.” Then, in a louder tone, she added, “I don’t know what happened today, Gil, but they’re sure acting differently toward me.”
“I think it was a combination of the picnic and your cooking,” he conceded.
She raised her eyes upward. “Oh, God, don’t say that! I’ve worked so long and hard to prove myself and acceptance still boils down to pleasing their stomachs and getting along with children? I think I’ll go slit my wrists!”
He smiled. “I told you time would take care of it, didn’t I? But I have to admit, everyone’s humor has improved since you started cooking for us.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Then I was right, you are stacking that damn deck of cards.”
He rose, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Me?” he asked innocently.
Leah uttered an expletive under her breath. “Now you are going to get it for sure, Gil Gerard.”
“You’ll personally give it to me?”
She met his glittering eyes. “In spades, fella. In spades,” she promised, unable to suppress a smile.
“Just name the time and place, I’ll be there.”
“It isn’t what you think it is,” she warned, trying to maintain her threatening posture.
He appraised her slowly, his eyes lingering on her tall slender body. “Don’t bet on it,” he whispered. “Remember what happened last night.” With that he put the empty cup on the draining board and sauntered out, a self-satisfied look on his handsome features. Leah laughed softly, recalling all too well the ecstasy they had shared.
They had no more than finished their lunch when the fire alarm droned through the bay.
“Dammit!” Apache howled, leaping off his chair.
“They plan this!” Sam swore, scraping his chair back and rising.
Leah compressed her lips. Adrenaline was shooting through her.
STRUCTURE FIRE AT 55 NORTH BRAD-FIELD, the dispatcher announced.
They all ran for their gear simultaneously. Sam jerked on his turn-out coat as he ran for Lady. A moment later he was starting the engine. She roared to life, filling the bay with the deep growl of the diesel engine, echoing off the walls.
“Leah and Apache,” Gil directed, “air pak.”
Leah gave him a stare as she trotted past him. It was the first time he had ever allowed her to be on the first team in a major structure fire. Her blood pumped strongly as she sprang up on the running board and threw herself into the jump seat. Apache leaped into the seat across from her, still muttering.
“Dammit, I ate too much. I hope I don’t throw up. Damn! I don’t wanna lose this lunch.” He glanced up at her. “Hell of a lunch, Leah.”
The engine revved up; lights whirled and the siren started to wail as they pulled out into the blinding sunlight. When Leah had tightened her shoulder straps, she looked up at Apache. “Thanks,” she called.
She tried to talk herself out of her nervousness. First team! God, she couldn’t let Gil or Apache down! She ran over the air pak procedure, testing the equipment twice to make sure everything was in good working order. The engine swung heavily around street corners, its air horn blasting several times when motorists wouldn’t yield to the truck. Anxiously, Leah searched for the telltale smoke. As they headed out of the major part of the city toward the middle-class suburbs, she saw gray-and-black columns hanging a hundred feet above the trees in the distance. Her mind raced with possibilities: were there kids home? A mother? How about a senile older person who couldn’t walk or was bedridden? The smoke would kill them within minutes if they were trapped. She began to recite a familiar litany over and over again: Please God, don’t let there be any children in there. Adults had the presence of mind, the strength, and the larger lung capacity to withstand smoke, heat and a crisis much better than a child. A child, she knew, frequently froze or hid. Either way, the child could die because of improper fire training by his parents. Leah twisted her gloved hands together in her lap, aware of the tenseness that always inhabited her before they arrived at the scene. Once there, she would relax. It was the not knowing that made her so anxious.
When they arrived Saxon wrapped the hydrant, which was a good two hundred yards from the two-story house. Leah jumped off the engine and quickly assessed the house. Smoke was leaking out beneath the eaves, which meant heavy heat buildup. She searched for people….
“Grab that two and a half and take it up to the front door,” Gil ordered Apache.
A frightened young girl of fourteen was screaming near the front door. Several other people ran up. An older woman grabbed Gil’s arm.
“There’s a kid in there!”
“How many?” he asked, his voice suddenly devoid of emotion.
“The mother’s at work. She leaves the two of them with her,” the woman cried, pointing at the babysitter. “Oh, Lordy…”
Leah bit back a cry and looked toward the house. They had to hurry! Oh, God, no…no…
Her heart began to pound unevenly and it seemed as if everything was a mass of confusion around her. The girl and the woman were screaming at Gil and then Gil was ordering an ambulance and calling in a second alarm. She and Apache dragged the two and a half up to the door, approaching it cautiously. In the distance more sirens wailed mournfully in the humid noon heat. Leah was taking larger gulps of oxygen from her air pak. They approached the door and knelt down by it. Apache gingerly twisted the knob. The door flew open; smoke spewed out in large ugly clouds. He motioned to her.
“Let’s go!”
Gil ran up to them, gripped Apache’s shoulder, and leaned over. “Go to the right. The babysitter says the two kids were asleep in the last room to the right,” he shouted.
Suddenly the charged hose seemed light to Leah as she helped haul it into the darkness of the house. The heat was intense; the skin on the back of her neck was smarting. Leah could hear the roaring of the flames somewhere to their left, the creaking of burning timbers, and a heavy, dropping sound. Simultaneously, she was aware of windows being broken to ventilate the house. More shouts could be heard in the cottony darkness as they groped their way forward into the last room on the right.
Apache found the first bed. He grabbed Leah’s coat frantically. “Here!” he cried, his voice muffled by the mask he wore. “Take the kid. Find a window. Get him out!”
She didn’t know if the inert form was a boy or girl. Cradling the small child against her body, she crawled on one hand and her knees around the end of the bed. Using her outstretched hand, she blindly followed the wall until she found a windowsill. There was no time to try to find a latch. She laid the child down at her knees and fumbled for the spanner wrench she always carried in her pocket. Finding it, Leah protected the child from the shattering glass as she smashed out the window with the wrench. Instantly she heard another fire fighter’s voice. Forcing herself up on her knees, she leaned out the smoky window yelling, “I’ve got one of them! Take him!”
She handed the unconscious child through the window and then got back down on all fours, crawling along the wall, trying to find her partner. Sweat stung her eyes and she gasped deeply. Saliva trickled from the corners of her mouth as she searched the gray blackness for Apache.
/> “Apache!” she cried, stopping. Where was he! Damn, he should have remained with her! Never lose contact with a team member. He could be in trouble and she would never know it. “Apache!” she screamed until her voice cracked from the strain. Doggedly, she followed the wall, praying she would run into the second bed. He would be there, she thought desperately, trying to find the second child. She yelled again and again. A new sense of dread overwhelmed Leah, and she crawled faster, keeping one hand stretched outward, hoping to come into contact with furniture or a body.
She ran into him full force. Grabbing him she cried, “Apache?”
“Yeah, yeah. I got the other one. Where the hell’s the window?”
She hesitated, sobbing for breath. In smoke, disorientation was commonplace and she had been trained to follow walls and not rely on her memory. “This way,” she called. “Grab my ankle.”
Apache grabbed the leg of her bunker pants and they made their way back around the wall. The MSA bell on her air pak started ringing wildly, alerting her that she had only three minutes of air left. Her pulse skyrocketed and she frantically tried to hurry, but it was impossible because Apache was dragging the child with him. Leah tried to limit herself to taking half breaths. It was damn near impossible under the circumstances and she desperately hugged the wall, trying to locate the window. The MSA Apache was wearing began to ring too. The sound of the bells clamored terrifyingly in the smoke.
It was an eternity before she found the window. Without thinking, Leah shoved Apache and the child ahead of her. Suddenly, her air was gone and she sucked deeply, trying to breathe. Blindly, she helped to lift the child up. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to remain calm, to loosen the emergency bypass valve on the regulator so that she could get the last vestiges of oxygen. She felt Apache get up and then he was gone, having escaped to safety through the window. Blackness tinged her vision as she rose up on her knees. Oxygen starved, she fumbled, her gloved fingers splayed outward, reaching for the window. Wildly, she clawed at the suffocating air mask.
Too Near the Fire Page 10
