by Jill Shalvis
Her arms were already around his neck, it took little movement to have her fingers fisted in his hair so that she could tug him closer, then closer still so that their mouths were a fraction of an inch apart.
“Amber.” The sound of her name on his lips, spoken in that husky voice, made her heart tip on its side.
She closed the distance between them, let her eyes drift closed. Her lips parted and she felt his warm breath mingle with hers.
Her office door opened.
“Oh, excuse me,” came Nancy’s shocked voice.
Professionalism kept her from gawking, though Amber was certain she wanted to. After all, how often did she see her boss sprawled on the floor in a man’s arms?
“I’m sorry,” Nancy murmured.
Amber groaned when the door shut. She pushed away from Dax.
He let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m betting from the look on your face that what just happened is worse than the aftershock.”
“I’ve worked hard to make sure everyone here respects me and the work I do. And in a matter of seconds, I’ve just ruined that image.”
“Well that’s pure bull.”
Amber stared at him. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re a man, working in a man’s world. You’re not judged by your appearance, or who you sleep with.”
“Neither are you.”
“It’s different here. It’s highly competitive. One nasty rumor and I could be ruined.”
“I see. And being caught in my arms equals a nasty rumor. Flattering.”
She winced at his unusually chilly voice. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“That’s the hard part, because I know it.”
T HAT NIGHT when Dax brought Taylor home to Amber, he made no attempt to draw her into conversation. He didn’t even come in, but stood at the doorway, silently and solemnly holding Taylor close for a long moment. Arms tight around the chubby little baby, he closed his eyes and hugged her tight.
Then he lifted her high, smiled at her squeal of delight and kissed her goodbye. “I love you, baby,” he whispered, and his smile was a heart-wrenching mixture of sweetness and sorrow.
All that emotion both shocked and humbled Amber to her toes. “Do you want to come in?”
He shook his head, and as if to prove his point, remained on the step as she took the diaper bag from him. He was careful not to touch her. Though she had no right to feel that way, it hurt.
She knew he was going to work. She’d seen the news. There was a fire raging in a downtown apartment building. It was filled with hundreds of trapped, terrified people, and though he rarely fought the actual fires these days, he would be on the scene. His job required it.
But she knew his distant attitude had nothing to do with that fire and everything to do with her. “Be careful tonight.”
“Always.” With one last, loving touch to Taylor’s chubby cheek, he turned away.
“Dax.”
Slowly he turned, but she didn’t know what to say, how to reach him. How to make him understand.
How could she, when she didn’t understand herself? “Nothing,” she whispered, and then he was gone.
A MBER DID her best to keep her mind occupied for the rest of the long evening. She bathed Taylor, then read her stories, even though the baby was far more interested in chewing on the pages than listening to the words.
She even tried to do some of her own work. Nothing satisfied her and her mind drifted.
To Dax.
Desperate to distract herself, she flipped on the television, then stood riveted in horror. The downtown fire was live on all the local channels.
The flames weren’t contained. Even worse, there were still people trapped on the higher levels. The city had put out the desperate call for help to neighboring counties, and though that help was on the way, for many it would be too late.
She knew Dax would never stand on the sidelines. He’d be there, in the thick of that heat, fighting for those people’s lives.
Glued to the screen, she lost track of time, chewing on her nails as she hadn’t done since she was a child. When the roof of the building collapsed, she leaped to her feet, then kneeled before the television, her heart in her throat.
Three firefighters were reported missing.
She waited and waited, but they didn’t give any more information, not the identities of the men or their conditions, not even after the fire was contained and then, eventually, extinguished.
No longer able to stand the not knowing, Amber turned to the phone, just as it rang.
“Honey, it’s Emily McCall.”
“Oh, thank goodness. Do you think you could watch Taylor for me? I have to go down.”
“Oh, Amber, listen-”
“I have to go, I have to know-”
“I know, I know. But he’s okay. He’s not hurt. That’s why I’m calling.”
The relief was so overwhelming, Amber couldn’t breathe. “You’re sure?”
“Thomas drove down there when this mess first started, he just called me.”
Dax was okay.
Amber’s limbs started to shake in reaction and she collapsed onto the couch.
Emily’s voice was thick with tears. “I worry about him so much. I can hear in your voice you worried, too.”
“Yes. He-We-I…” She blew out a breath and tried again. “It was awful, the not knowing. I tried to imagine…Taylor needs him.”
“Of course she does. What about her mother?”
“I need him, too,” she said, meaning every word. “So much.”
“He’s my life,” Emily said simply. “And so is your daughter. I’m so thankful we’re all together.”
The guilt that stabbed at Amber wasn’t new. She felt as though she had stolen Taylor’s first three months from Dax and his family and now, only a few short weeks later, couldn’t imagine how she had done it.
Or why.
Her reasons for wanting to be alone hadn’t made sense for hours now.
“Why don’t you bring me that sweet little baby?” Emily suggested. “Then you can decide what to do.”
“About what?”
Emily’s voice was hushed, as if she kept a huge secret. “Well, I shouldn’t say anything.” This spoken in the hopeful tone of someone who wanted to be pressed.
“Please.”
“Well, you know I pride myself on letting my children lead their own lives. I don’t mean to be nosy.”
If she hadn’t been in such shock, Amber might have laughed. It was common knowledge among Dax’s family exactly how wonderfully, purposely nosy Emily could be.
“But as long as you’re asking,” she said slyly. “I was hoping maybe you had something to tell me. That maybe you and Dax were going to…oh, I don’t know. Get married?”
Oh Lord. “Mrs. McCall-”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Emily interrupted with a laugh. “Let’s not go backward here. You called me Emily at the party.”
“Okay. Emily-”
“Or you could just go ahead and get used to calling me Mom.”
Amber’s emotions were in such a tailspin, she had no control left with which to handle this situation. “I’m sorry,” she managed. “But as far as wedding bells, I don’t have anything to tell.”
“He hasn’t asked you to marry him?” Emily’s disappointment sang through the line. “That boy! I taught him better than that-”
“No, no, it’s not…” How to explain that she had screwed everything up? That there was every chance Dax no longer wanted her? “It’s not his fault.”
“You don’t want him?”
“This is very complicated. I can’t seem to think straight.”
“Of course you can’t! Where’s my head, pressing you to talk to me before you’re ready. Maybe you haven’t even decided if you like me-”
Now Amber did laugh. Emily McCall could wear down a saint. “I like you, very much,” she assured the older woman. “It’s just that-”
“That you do
n’t think of me as your family yet.” Emily sniffed, clearly insulted. “I understand.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“No, it’s okay, you don’t owe me anything.”
“Emily, please. I think you’re an amazing woman.”
“You do?” Pleasure quickly replaced hurt. “Really?”
“Yes.” It had never been easy for Amber to share herself, but for some reason, the words came now. “I think the way you love your family is beautiful.”
“It’s no more than any mother would do.”
Maybe it was the late hour or the emotions of the day, but suddenly it was easy for Amber to admit the truth. “Not any mother.”
“Not yours?”
Emily’s sympathy and pity didn’t frighten her as she thought it would. “Definitely not mine. But I used to dream about it, and if I could have drawn my mother the way I wanted her to be, she would have been just like you.”
“Oh darling, now you’re really going to make me cry.”
“Don’t you dare.” Amber laughed through her own impending tears. “You’ll get me started. And after what we’ve been through this evening, I may never stop.”
“Dax is careful, you know. He’s the best at what he does.”
He was the best at everything he set his mind to. His work. Fatherhood. She could only imagine what a husband he’d make. The warm glow that came from that thought no longer surprised her.
“I imagine you have a lot on your mind,” Emily said. “Especially with the thought of babies and marriage and all the like.”
“I thought you didn’t want to be nosy.”
“Oh, you.” But Emily had the good grace to laugh at herself. “You already have my number. Just like all my children.” Her voice went stern and demanding. “Now bring me Taylor. You go to my boy.”
I N THE END, Amber didn’t drop off Taylor, figuring Dax would want to see her. He seemed to thrive on any opportunity to do so.
Plus she needed Taylor to hold, needed to feel that small, warm bundle of life against her, reminding her that no matter what happened with Dax, she mattered to someone.
Dax had given her a key to his house, insisting he didn’t want her waiting for him outside if he was ever late when they were supposed to meet. Amber had felt uncomfortable with that, had assumed she would never use it, but it came in handy now.
Less than one minute after she arrived, Dax pulled into the driveway, setting her nerves to leaping. Head down, shoulders tense, he opened the front door and stepped inside. As if he sensed her, he stilled and slowly raised his head to reveal a weary, hollow face.
When he saw her his eyes warmed. So did Amber’s heart.
13
“H EY .” D AX acknowledged her, but he didn’t move into the room.
Amber’s nervousness tripled. Was he bothered by the fact that she’d let herself in? Was he sorry he’d given her his key?
Why didn’t he say something, anything? “I hope you don’t mind,” she found herself saying awkwardly.
With an audible sigh, he kicked off his shoes.
“I…used the key you gave me.”
He dropped his jacket where he stood and the leather hit the floor with a thud.
“Taylor’s here, too.” She felt stupid and intrusive, but a search of his expression told her nothing. A first. “Your mom offered to baby-sit, but I thought you’d want to see her.”
He rolled his head on his neck, winced and then sighed again.
“If you’re too tired, I’ll just…”
He spoke then, though the words were muffled by the sweatshirt he was pulling off over his head. “I’m never too tired for Taylor.” He tossed the sweatshirt aside, his words in direct opposition to the exhaustion on his face. “Or you, for that matter.”
“Because I could just scoop her up and leave…”
He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “Didn’t you just get here?”
“Yes.”
His face was bleak, his eyes red-rimmed, and his big, tough body so weary she imagined he was standing on his feet by sheer force of will. “I saw everything on the news,” she said. She watched as he dumped out the contents of his pockets into a small bowl on the low table in the entry.
His silence was killing her.
“I couldn’t tear myself away from the television,” she added.
He nodded and rubbed his eyes, but still didn’t speak. Her heart was racing so fast she didn’t know what to do.
“When the roof collapsed-” she drew a shaky breath “-and those firefighters fell through the gaping hole…”
He flinched and her heart ached at the stark pain she saw so clearly in his eyes. “Oh, Dax.”
He hadn’t stepped toward her, hadn’t really looked at her, not once. He hadn’t made one move that told her how he felt about her being there. “Would you rather I go?”
“Actually, I’m hoping you’re going to tell me the real reason you’re here.”
“I…I thought…I just wanted to be.”
He came toward her, his face still bleak and grim, but now there was something new in his gaze. He stopped a mere foot away from her. “I’ve never known you to stutter.”
“I don’t. N-n-not-” Ruthlessly she bit her tongue. “Not usually anyway.” Frustrated, she reached up to shove back a loose strand of hair at the exact same moment his fingers came up to tuck it behind her ear. His hand slid over hers and he brought those joined hands to his chest. “You’ve been biting your nails. A new habit?”
“Another one that I’ve not had for years.”
“What’s the matter? I’ve never seen you so unsettled.”
“Unsettled. I guess that’s what you’d call worrying myself sick.” All her pent-up fear spewed out. “I went through hell tonight, watching the news.”
“It’s my job.”
“I know. I know! That’s not what I’m saying.”
“What are you saying?”
“That I worry, okay? I don’t want to, but I do.”
He let out a long breath and all the tension suddenly draining out of him, immediately replaced by a new, different sort of tension. “Yes,” he whispered, his eyes glittering with emotion. “Yes, that’s what I wanted to hear.”
“I suppose then, that you’d love to know I couldn’t even breathe, thinking that you’d be hurt. Or worse!”
His other hand slid up her spine, around to cup her face. His thumb brushed over her lower lip before his fingers sank into her hair, holding her head still. Closing that last gap between them, he nudged her up against his body. “Yeah. I would love to know that.”
She flattened her hands against his chest and had to tip her head back to look into his eyes. “Is that ego talking?”
“No. It’s not even remotely related to anything in my brain.” He smoothed his hand over hers, holding it close to his chest. “It’s right here, where pride has no place. And if you think you should be ashamed about worrying for me, think again. Not when I do nothing but think about you, worry about you, want you. It feels incredible to know you’re capable of doing the same.”
Had she been so selfish to keep that from him? “I care about you, Dax. So much it hurts.”
For the first time that night, his eyes heated, his mouth softened. He closed his eyes and with an aching tenderness, rubbed his jaw to hers, drawing her so tight to him she could feel his every breath.
Then he pulled her even closer, burying his face in her neck. “We lost twenty-two people tonight. Six of them children. One was a baby girl, the same age as Taylor.”
Shock reverberated through her and she hugged him as tight as she could. “I’m so sorry.”
“I had to tell her mother-” He swallowed hard. “I kept seeing Taylor, kept imagining how I’d feel if I had to face you, tell you that-God.”
Envisioning the scene, Amber felt his anguish as her own. “You did everything you could, all of you did everything you could to save them.”
He ma
de a wordless sound of grief that tore at her. In her arms was the strongest, toughest, most heroic man she’d ever met, and she didn’t know what to do for him. She wanted to take his pain away, wanted to hold him close so that nothing could hurt him ever again. She had no idea how long they stood there, rocking slowly, absorbing each other’s heat and strength, when Taylor cried out.
“I’ll get her,” Dax said. “I…I need her.”
Amber followed him to the room he’d set up for Taylor. It had been his office before, so the crib was between a leather sofa and an oak desk. Both were now covered with stuffed animals, toys and freshly laundered baby clothes. The place was a comfortable, cozy mess.
Taylor had fallen asleep again, on her tummy as usual, her padded bottom sticking up in the air, her fist in her mouth.
Dax stood by the crib, his hand on Taylor’s back, a look of combined sorrow and joy on his face, so poignant it hurt to look at him. But that wasn’t a good enough reason to turn away.
For the first time in her life, Amber reached out and made the first move. It was difficult, but only until she touched him. At the contact with his warm, hard body it was the most natural thing in the world to slip her hands around his waist and hug him from behind. “She’s okay, Dax.”
He nodded and turned, gathering her close. The exhaustion was still there in his expression, but some of the bleak despair seemed to have lifted. That it was herself and Taylor doing that for him gave her a warm burst of something so thrilling, so breathtaking, so wild and fierce, it terrified her.
It was hope.
Was it real? Could it last?
Dax leaned past her, stroked a gentle hand down Taylor’s back and with an achingly tender expression, bent and kissed his baby, murmuring something Amber couldn’t hear.
Straightening, he looked deep into Amber’s eyes as a slow, unbearably sad smile crossed his mouth.
Then he left the room.
Confused, she followed him as he padded down the hallway to his own bedroom.
He didn’t turn on the light, but she made out his silhouette as he tugged off his shirt and let it fall. His shoulders slumped as he stood there in the middle of the room, still and silent.
“Dax?”
