where Jay had been heading—anything farther away and he might really have tried to drive her there.
He tilted his head, trying to get his bearings again. Damn, he’d really messed up this time and almost got Kim killed in the process.
Of all the people in the world, he hated the most for her to see him impaired. Blind. Dependent on the sympathy of others and their charity, like his mother had been.
That wasn’t going to happen to him, not in this lifetime.
The chief should have minded his own damn business and not sent Kim around to “rescue” him. Instead, she was a woman he ought to be protecting. She barely came up to his chin, so slender he’d guess a good wind would blow her over, her hands delicate, small. Feminine. The kind of hands a man wanted to feel on him, all over him.
She wouldn’t be interested in fulfilling that fantasy with any man who wasn’t whole.
Standing stock-still, he listened carefully, hearing the street traffic on the main boulevard through town. Turning towards the sound, he felt the warmth of the afternoon sun on his back. This wasn’t much different than finding his way out of a smoke-filled building, he told himself. You listen. Use all your senses.
He pointed in the direction he knew was north. “The main road’s that way, right?”
“Yes,” she said softly.
“Great. Then let’s get going. I can’t wait to have the guys on C shift see me with the prettiest woman in town on my arm. They’ll all want eye patches.”
KIM HAD NEVER thought of herself as a coward. She did now as they approached the fire station, and she pulled her scarf more securely around her head. More than anything, she wanted to turn and run away before anyone saw her.
But she owed Jay more than that. He’d stayed with her in a collapsing building when she’d needed him. She could do no less for him now. And whether he admitted it or not, he needed someone. Otherwise, his ridiculous macho determination was going to get him killed.
The three-story building was relatively new, its big doors mawing open to reveal two fire engines and a ladder truck gleaming red in the shadowed interior. One firefighter was polishing the headlights on the truck, another man was outside hoeing a recently planted bed of snapdragons, their colorful heads moving gently in a light breeze.
From the back of the station, a dog came trotting out. He stopped, cocked his head to one side, then whined, breaking into a full gallop right toward Jay.
Kim opened her mouth to warn him too late.
The dalmatian leaped onto his chest, nearly knocking him down, and licked his face like a kid with a brand-new sucker.
“Hey, Buttons.” Jay laughed, scratching and petting the dalmatian as though they were old friends. “I’m glad to see you too.”
“I gather you two know each other,” Kim said dryly.
“Sure do.” Jay give the dog another scratch behind the ears. “Kim, meet Mack Buttons, station mascot. Buttons, this is Kimberly Lydell. Be nice to her and she’ll get you on her TV show, make you a star.”
Planting himself right in front of Kim, his tail whipping back and forth, Buttons looked up expectantly with his big brown eyes.
Unable to resist, she petted his head, finding his spotted white coat like smooth velvet. The dog couldn’t be blamed for not knowing she’d been off the air for months and there was little chance she’d make him or anyone else a star anytime soon.
“I’ve never seen a dalmatian with brown spots before,” she said.
“They call this breed a chocolate dalmatian. But we figure somewhere along the way, he got into the wrong can of paint and now we can’t get the brown out.”
She laughed, and the dog gave her a tentative, well-behaved lick with his tongue. “Yes, Mr. Buttons, you’re a good doggie, aren’t you?”
When she looked up, they were surrounded by a half-dozen firefighters all in their neat blue uniforms. Instinctively, she turned her face to the side, trying to avoid their direct looks.
“We aren’t usually that formal around here, calling the dog mister, I mean,” one of them said, flashing her an easy smile. He extended his hand. “I’m Mike Gables, Jay’s partner. He’d introduce us but he doesn’t have very good manners. I’m the one with all the panache around here.”
“Watch out for him, Kim,” Jay warned. “He never has fewer than three women on the string at once, one for each day off during the week.”
“I see.” In spite of herself, she smiled back at Gables, chancing a more direct look. She’d handled flirtatious men before. For the most part they were harmless—but not the kind of man she preferred. Tall, dark and a little aloof was more her style. Though in recent years she’d rarely had time to date, much less develop a relationship.
Two other men crowded forward to introduce themselves, Ben and Bill, equally good-looking but without the flirtatious glint in their eyes. She noted their curious looks, the way they checked out her scarf, but they didn’t appear to dwell on what she was hiding. Maybe they didn’t care.
They were quite solicitous of Jay, however. Eyeing him carefully. Asking how he was feeling. Any news from the doctor.
He shrugged off all their questions.
Another man who’d lingered at the back of the crowd finally spoke up. “Are you going to give the lady a tour of the place, Tolliver, or let these guys keep on ogling your girl?”
“I’m not—” she sputtered.
“Ignore Strong,” Mike told her. “Logan’s just bucking for a promotion.”
“Are you guys ogling?” Jay asked, his forehead furrowed in what had to be mock anger.
“Naw, not us,” they chorused.
“We just don’t know what a good-lookin’ lady like Kim would be doing here with an ugly-butt guy like you,” Mike said.
“Now just wait one darn minute.” Kim drew herself up to her full five feet three inches, tickled in spite of herself at the way the firefighters kidded each other. “I’ll have you know I’ve judged butt contests for KPRX-TV’s day at the beach and Jay’s would rate—” With an exaggerated effort, she took a look at Jay’s rear end encased in tight fitting jeans. Definitely a ten. “At least a nine.”
The guys hooted and hollered.
“Aw, come on,” Jay complained, but he was grinning too, the squint lines at the corners of his eyes visible beneath his dark glasses. “Gimme at least a nine and a half.”
“If you’re very nice to me, maybe I’ll let you appeal the ruling of the judges.”
The entire conversation deteriorated from that point on. Keeping a straight face was next to impossible, Kim’s self-consciousness about her scars slipping away under the sheer pressure of the firefighters’ camaraderie.
And then suddenly, a high-pitched tone sounded, ear-splitting.
