He grinned to himself. Where had the little devil gotten a lizard in the first place?
“Sounds like you’ve got woman trouble.”
Mike jumped at the sound of Jay Tolliver’s voice. “More like kid trouble, and I’ve got about twenty-five minutes to fix it.” Briefly he explained the situation.
“Kim would probably be happy to fill in, but she’s working tonight.”
“Right.” Jay’s bride hosted a late-night talk show on PBS radio, which was popular with the firefighters. A former TV news anchor who’d been badly scarred in Paseo’s earthquake last spring, she had the sexiest voice any of them had ever heard and a great personality to go with it. Jay was a lucky man.
“Why don’t you call that woman Tommy told me you were with the other day? He said she was a babe. Given he’s scared to death of women, that’s a pretty big compliment.”
Kristin. She was his only option, but calling her put his whole arrangement to keep Randy at risk. Still, he didn’t doubt for a minute Tammilee would be as good as her word—she’d leave Randy on his own if he couldn’t find somebody fast.
With a nod to Jay, Mike punched in Kristin’s number. He closed his eyes and sent up a little prayer that she’d be home—and wouldn’t hang up on him.
KRISTIN had totally lost her mind.
After arguing with Mike for all of two minutes, she’d tossed a few things into an overnight bag, grabbed an outfit to wear the next morning, and had driven like a madwoman to Mike’s apartment, scared to death Tammilee would actually leave Randy alone. No telling what the child would do left to his own devices. He was too creative by far.
Parking at a red curb—the only spot she could find—she raced into the apartment complex and breathlessly knocked on the door. It flew open before she could step back.
“About time someone showed up. He’s all yours, sister.” Practically knocking Kristin over, Tammilee flounced out of the apartment and down the steps.
Mouth open, Kristin watched her go, then cautiously went inside.
Randy was sitting at one end of the couch. Cowering, really. His eyes were wide, his chin trembling. “Are you gonna take me back to that other place?” He meant the Gramercys’, she knew.
She sat down beside him. “Do you think I should?”
Crocodile tears formed in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to do nothin’ bad.”
“Then why did you make life so miserable for Tammilee?”
He lifted his shoulders. “’Cuz I didn’t want Mike to marry her.”
Kristin did a mental double take. “I don’t think there’s much likelihood of that.” In fact, giving Mike his due, she’d heard a controlled fury in his voice. He’d been so upset with Tammilee, Kristin was confident he wouldn’t care if the woman ever crossed his path again. Kristin tried not to gloat.
“I want him to marry you instead.”
Her jaw nearly came unhinged, and she gasped. “Mike and I aren’t—we’re not—how in heaven’s name did you get that idea?”
“He said he liked you.”
“He did?” She really shouldn’t be discussing her nonexistent love life with a child. One kiss—well, maybe two if you counted that first brush of his lips—could not be regarded as even a casual romance, much less a love life. Which she didn’t have with Mike or any other man. Nor was she looking for a relationship. She had her work. Her family. That was enough.
And the thought of loving a man again was frightening. She’d been so badly hurt by Bobby’s father, she didn’t plan to go down that path again. Certainly not with a confirmed bachelor.
Studying his bare toes, which he was wiggling, Randy hugged himself. “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to be my mom.”
This kid really knew how to tear up a woman’s heart. Once upon a time, being somebody’s mom was all Kristin had dreamed of, and then she’d lost it all. Bobby gone. Her arms empty. Her head and heart filled with guilt, which she knew was unreasonable. But that didn’t stop the hurting.
Looping her arm around Randy, she tugged him up close to her, hugging him despite his sudden tension. “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
He shrugged his shoulders again, probably trying to convince himself this plea for her to be his mother didn’t matter. But Kristin knew it did. She’d had an investigator checking birth records. He’d found Randy’s—born in Bakersfield to an Elizabeth Marshall, who Randy had said was dead; his father was listed as unknown on the birth certificate, Elizabeth’s sister listed as next of kin in Randy’s files. The investigator was still searching for her, Sheryl Domain.
Meanwhile, Randy was as much of an orphan as any in the system. And he needed a mom. She didn’t dare volunteer for the job, although her maternal instincts were screaming to do just that. She was already too emotionally involved—with both Randy and his would-be foster dad—to maintain a proper professional distance.
A shiver of yearning sped gooseflesh down her spine. Mike liked her. Forcefully she set that thought aside.
“What happened to the lizard?” she asked softly.
“Tammilee threw him out in the patio. Suzie’s out there too. She wouldn’t let her come inside.”
“Suppose we ought to rescue the lizard?”
He lifted his head. “I don’t think Suzie would eat him. He probably wouldn’t taste that good.”
“Why don’t we go check?”
“You’re not afraid of lizards?”
Smiling, she stroked the boy’s straight hair. “Honey, I had two big brothers. Garden snakes and lizards were frequently unexpected guests in my bed. There’s not much you can do that they haven’t already tried on me.” Including making ugly noises and the smells that went with them.
Randy hopped down from the couch, his spirits apparently restored, and jogged toward the sliding glass door to the patio.
Suzie, it turned out, was a natural pointer, identifying where the lizard was hiding. Even so it took a while to coax—or frighten—the poor thing out of the drain spout. Together, Kristin and Randy found a plastic container big enough to hold the lizard, punched holes in the top for air and gave him some shreds of lettuce and lunch meat to nibble. Then, with the lizard sitting proudly in his makeshift cage on the desk amid a half-completed Star Wars Lego set, Kristin put the boy to bed.
His mom. No, she didn’t dare think of herself in that way. And Mike wasn’t his father, either. Randy had relatives out there somewhere. Soon the investigator would locate them.
And Kristin would feel Randy’s loss as sharply as she still grieved for Bobby.
GETTING A six-year-old up, fed and moving before eight o’clock was more difficult than Kristin had expected. But she was due in court today. Judges did not look fondly on caseworkers who failed to appear in a timely fashion. And her deal with Mike was that she’d drop Randy off at the station as his shift was ending, then she’d go on to work.
She reached Station Six only to discover all of the fire trucks were gone. Panicky, she urged Randy out of the car and half dragged him into the building. Having no idea where else to go, she burst into the dispatcher’s office.
“Emma Jean! Where is everyone?”
“Hi, hon. You come by to get your fortune told?”
Her fortune would be worth less than zero if she didn’t get to the courthouse on time. “No, I’m looking for Mike. He’s supposed to be ending his shift now and taking charge of Randy. I’ve got to get to work.”
Peering over the top of the counter that separated the public from her work area, Emma Jean smiled at Randy, her dark Gypsy eyes twinkling. “Hi, sweetie. Mrs. Anderson brought in some homemade breakfast rolls for everybody. You want to try one?”
“Councilwoman Anderson?” Kristin asked. The one who’d bid a thousand dollars on the chief at the bachelor auction?
“One and the same,” Emma Jean said. She held out a plate stacked high with cinnamon rolls for the boy to make his selection. “Start with a little bite,” she urged. “I haven’t ch
ecked ’em out yet.”
“Thanks.” With little hesitation, Randy picked the roll at the top of the pile.
Momentarily distracted, Kristin got back to the immediate problem. “Emma Jean, please. Where’s Mike?”
“There was a three-alarm fire about six o’clock this morning. We had to roll everything in the station. They’re mopping up now, should be back in a couple of hours.”
“Couple of hours? But he’s supposed to be off duty now,” Kristin protested.
“Sometimes shifts overlap when this happens. They’ll get paid overtime—”
“Oh, yuck!” Randy cried. “This is barfy!”
Kristin looked down. The child’s face was scrunched into a terrible frown and cinnamon-roll residue was dribbling down his chin. “What on earth is wrong?”
“I was afraid of that,” Emma Jean admitted. “Mrs. Anderson isn’t a real good cook and sometimes—” The dispatcher shook her head, setting her dangling earrings into motion. “She tries so hard to impress the chief, but I should have tested them first before I let the boy try one.”
Kristin didn’t understand what was going on. Nevertheless, she dug into her purse for a tissue to wipe Randy’s chin. “Is there anyone here I can leave Randy with until Mike gets back?”
“I don’t know. I’d love to have him hang around with me, but if things start hopping I wouldn’t be able to watch out for him.”
“Can I have a drink of water?” Randy asked, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.
“In a minute, honey.” Frantically, Kristin tried to think of an alternative. Her parents lived too far out of town; she’d never get there and back to the courthouse in time. “What about the other firemen? Would one of them—”
“Same problem for them as for me. If I have to dispatch extra crews—”
“I could ride on the fire truck,” Randy volunteered.
“The trucks are all gone,” Kristin pointed out. Not that she or the firefighters would allow a six-year-old boy to ride along anyway.
She checked her watch. Time was slipping by and it looked as if she was well and truly stuck with Randy until Mike finally got back from cleaning up after the fire. What on earth did working mothers do when their well-laid plans fell apart?
She briefly considered taking Randy to the YMCA day-care facility Mike had arranged for the days he worked. But this wasn’t his usual day. Mike was supposed to be off. Explanations would delay her, and she might still be in the same fix if they didn’t have an open slot for him. And the Gramercys were out. She didn’t have time to deal with a temper tantrum on Randy’s part.
Making her decision, she took Randy’s hand. “Honey, you’re coming to court with me.”
“Court?” he wailed. “Are you gonna put me in jail?”
Her heart constricted. He was too darn little to know the connection between court and jail. Another reminder of the difficult life this child had been handed.
“No. In fact, you’re going to be on your absolute best behavior or going to jail will be like Disneyland compared to what I’m going to do to you.” She softened her comments with a smile before turning to the dispatcher. “Tell Mike I’m at the county courthouse, Judge Grimsley’s family court. He is to get his tail over there posthaste to pick up Randy as soon as he gets off duty. You got that?”
“Got it!” Emma Jean grinned. “And my psychic vibes are telling me Mike Gables is one studly firefighter who has met his match.”
Kristin didn’t care about that at the moment. She was far more concerned about losing her job.
MIKE DIDN’T TAKE the time to shower and change. As soon as Emma Jean gave him the message, he ran to his pickup, still wearing his turnout coat and bunker pants, and drove as fast as he could to the courthouse.
Kristin was gonna kill him!
Hurrying through the crowded hallway, curious gazes following his progress, he found Judge Grimsley’s courtroom and slipped inside. Kristin was testifying. Her eyes flared when she spotted him, and she stumbled over her words before continuing to describe how two children had been found locked in an empty room without food, water or sanitation facilities.
Despite the grisly story, she appeared cool. In control. Professional. And beautiful in a prim business suit. His fingers itched with the urge to get past her reserved exterior and discover the passionate woman he was sure the facade disguised. The kiss they’d shared on top of the fire truck had given him a hint of her true nature, whetting his appetite for more. But she was having none of it.
The judge eyed Mike with suspicion. An old guy with thinning gray hair, Judge Grimsley’s lips had a perpetually downward turn like those a kid would draw for a sad face.
“Is there a fire in the courthouse, young man?” the judge asked.
“No, sir.”
“Then I suggest you leave. This is a closed hearing.”
“Mike!” Randy popped up from a seat in the front row, so short he’d been invisible until he stood. He squirted out of the row and ran up the aisle. “I’ve been good!”
Mike scooped up the boy into his arms. “Yes, your honor. We were just leaving.”
Scowling, the judge banged his gavel.
Catching the warning look in Kristin’s eyes, Mike hustled out of the courtroom with Randy still in his arms.
FIFTEEN MINUTES later, Kristin completed her testimony and the judge called a recess. She hurried out of the courtroom to find Mike and Randy pouring quarters into the vending machine in the hallway.
“I wasn’t sure you’d stick around,” she said. Seeing Mike in his heavy, firefighting outfit, his face smudged with soot, had brought home the reality that he risked death every time he went out on a call. Even from two feet away, she could smell the acrid scent of smoke—and danger.
He popped the tab on a cold drink and handed it to Randy. “I wanted to say thank you and apologize. These early-morning calls almost never happen. Bad timing.”
Unable to resist, she rubbed her fingertips across his cheek to wipe away some of the black soot. “Are you all right?”
“Sure.”
“But your face—”
“I didn’t bother with a shower.” He smiled at her, his grin even more reckless than usual because of his heroic appearance. “It’s just a little dirt. No big deal.”
Amazing that he could treat the risks he took every day so cavalierly. “Where was the fire? Emma Jean said it was big one.”
“A two-story abandoned warehouse by the railroad tracks. Vagrants hang out there. Sometimes they try to heat a can of soup on an open fire and don’t get the fire put out all the way.”
“Was it dangerous?”
“We caught this one before things got out of hand. Still made a mess, though. The building’s a real hazard. Ought to be pulled to the ground.”
Her heart, which seemed to be doing erratic things lately, lurched painfully in her chest. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Despite the crowds milling around, the low hum of conversation, his gaze focused on her with a compelling intensity, then lowered to her lips. “Yeah, me too.”
Mesmerized, she wondered if there had ever been a man more potently masculine, more courageous. Or sexier. If so, she’d never met him. As it was, she could barely resist the urge to rise up on her tiptoes and kiss him, right here in a courthouse in front of half the world.
A small hand slipped into hers and tugged. “I was good in the courtroom, wasn’t I?” Randy asked.
He’d broken the spell, though it took a moment for Kristin’s heart to return to normal. To beat at all, for that matter.
She looked down at the boy. “You were terrific! I was very proud of you.”
“Does that mean we gets to have an ice cream?”
“Bribery?” Mike questioned in a mocking tone.
“Darn right,” she muttered, unable to repress a responding smile. “What flavor do you want?”
“Bubble gum!” came the quick response.
Mike hooked his arm aro
und her shoulder. “Ice cream for breakfast sounds good to me. I’ll even buy.”
As the three of them walked out of the courthouse together, Kristin wondered if the ice cream was somehow going to cost her more than she was willing to pay. Still, she couldn’t resist the giddy feeling they looked like a real family—mother, father and child—all the while knowing there wasn’t a chance in Hades for that fantasy to come true.
Mike Gables was not a commitment kind of man. At least where she was concerned, he’d made that abundantly clear. And she’d never again risk her heart for a man who didn’t believe in forever.
THEY DROVE in Mike’s truck to the ice cream shop on Paseo Boulevard, leaving Kristin’s car in its slot at the courthouse rather than try to find two open parking spaces. Randy ordered a two-scoop bubble-gum cone. Mike opted for French vanilla for his “breakfast” and Kristin decided her emotions were too volatile to add her own sugar high to theirs.
“What do you plan to do with Randy now that Tammilee hasn’t worked out?” Kristin asked as they stood in the shop, an odd-looking couple with Mike still in his turnout coat and her in a business suit.
Mike licked at his cone, his tongue circling the mound of ice cream, the image making Kristin shiver. What would his tongue feel like on her, chill against her flesh, caressing the mound of her breast with the same broad swipe?
“I’m not sure,” he said. “There’re a couple of other gals I know who might help me out, but after the fiasco with Tammilee—” He shrugged, and his tongue stroked the cone again, catching a drip that had spilled over the side.
Kristin’s good reason was at equal risk of melting. Warmth spun through her midsection, raising the temperature of her skin and causing a deep throbbing sensation between her thighs. Her heart beat heavily in her chest. Her throat ached.
“I’ll do it,” she whispered. The words were out before she realized that she’d spoken, and there was no way to snare them back. She wasn’t even quite sure what she’d agreed to do.
With Valor and Devotion Page 11
