With Courage And Commitment. Charlotte Maclay
to plumb.”
Stephanie suspected that was true—and many of those talents were no doubt related to his ability to seduce women. She wasn’t about to lead the conversation in that direction.
“I didn’t know you were a smoke jumper. Do you still parachute for fun?”
His brush stopped in midstroke and his shoulders visibly tensed. “No. Too many memories.”
Stephanie sensed she’d touched an emotional hot button. “What happened?” she asked cautiously.
He climbed down the ladder and moved it to the right a few feet, but he didn’t look at her.
“They were dropping us way inside the wilderness area. Two planeloads of guys. Hotshots going after lightning-started fires. Something happened—” Resting his hand on a rung of the ladder, he shook his head. “The wind shifted just as we were bailing out. It blew us right smack into the face of the fire. Two of the guys…”
Hopping down from the table, Stephanie crossed the room to him. His shoulders shook and she placed her hand on his back, soothing him.
Visibly struggling with his memories, he fought to pull himself together. “They drifted right into a couple of trees that were already on fire. The turpentine in a pine tree turns it into a torch, the flames going maybe a hundred feet high. Even with all their protective gear on—”
“Oh, God…” Her fingers trembled. She could see what he saw, feel what he felt. A firefighter’s daughter knew the awful realities of fighting a fire. The danger. The fear. What the red devil could do to a man.
“My damn canopy melted in the heat, and I hit the ground hard. And then I ran.” He looked up at the ceiling, the uneven border of new paint over old, his Adam’s apple working in his throat. “It’s not something I’m exactly proud of.”
“Shh.” Instinctively she took him in her arms. Tall and strong, yet as vulnerable as a child whose invisible wounds had never healed. How many other scars did he have? she wondered. His childhood hadn’t been easy. Yet somehow he’d found the strength to make the most of himself. “There wasn’t anything else you could have done. You couldn’t save your friends. There was no way.”
“Yeah, I know.” Gathering himself, he gave her a quick hug, then stepped away. “Gotta tell you, though. Seventy-five pounds of gear and I swear I set a new world’s record for the quarter-mile run. I’ve never moved so fast in my entire life.”
She recognized he was trying to lighten the mood and went along. “Maybe instead of the triathlon, we ought to sign you up for the next Olympics.”
“Not much chance of that.” With an easy shrug, he started up the ladder again, brush in hand.
Stephanie wished he’d hugged her a little longer. She liked the feel of his arms around her. She even liked the paint-tinged smell of him clashing with the lingering soapy scent from his morning shower.
But she reminded herself the most she could hope to have with Danny was a platonic relationship. Neighbors. Part of the extended family of firefighters. Friends who cared about each other.
Not that she’d want more than that, given her pregnant state. Or even if she wasn’t pregnant, she told herself.
But she really did like the way his arms felt wrapped around her. And how her head fit so neatly resting on his shoulder at the crook of his neck. And how her palms itched to cup that tight butt of his.
She sighed and mentally swore. Her hormones must be on the fritz. Pregnancy did that to a woman, or so the book said.
Picking up the roller she’d been using, she ran it through the pan of paint. “Dad says you’re the big gun on Paseo’s triathlon team.”
“Yeah, and every race I rededicate myself to those guys in Idaho.”
She shivered. No man could outrun such a terrible memory.
Just as she’d never forget she had once placed her trust in a man who was unable to love her…or her baby.
“YOU LOOK LIKE YOU’VE BEEN infected by a severe case of white spotted fever.” Painting job completed and ready to head for home, Danny opened the truck door for Stephanie.
“I always looked forward to your compliments. They’re so…” She boosted herself into the seat. “…flattering to a woman’s ego.”
“Hey, on you, white spots are kinda cute. Like freckles.”
“Wonderful.” Rolling her eyes, she half turned in search of her seat belt.
Automatically Danny helped her out by grabbing the metal connector and reaching across her lap to snap it in place. For a moment, his forearm rested on her midsection, making him intimately aware of the swell of her belly. Then something poked him.
He froze and so did Stephanie.
“What was that?”
“The baby.”
“He kicked me?”
“She kicked you. I had a sonogram last week. It’s a girl.”
He wanted to move away, to ignore the sudden tightening in his throat, the twist in his gut. Instead he slipped his palm across her belly, cupping her. This was real. Not a shadowy, half-formed thought that Stephanie—the pesky kid who lived down the street—was someday going have a baby of her own. This was now.
Beneath his palm, the baby moved again. A tiny foot pressing into his hand or a tight little fist.
An unfamiliar emotion filled his chest. He could barely breathe and had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Feisty as her mom, huh?”
A sheen of tears filled Stephanie’s hazel eyes, dimming the flecks of gold hidden there. “With any luck, she’ll come out ready to arm-wrestle you.”
“Probably beat me, too.”
Her teary smile nearly undid him. Without removing his hand, he leaned forward and kissed Stephanie on her temple. She’d perspired during the day, making her natural waves frizz around her face, and the strands were soft against his lips.
“You’ll be a great mom, Stephanie. A great mom.”
Chapter Four
The heat of his palm seeped through Stephanie’s blouse to warm her belly. The sweetness of his breath swept across her damp forehead like a refreshing spring breeze.
But it was the intimacy of his touch that brought a tightness to her chest. A fierce longing she hadn’t recognized she’d been harboring.
Other than herself and assorted medical personnel, Danny was the first person to feel her baby move, to acknowledge her daughter existed in more than an abstract way. In the depth of his blue eyes, she saw the same awe she experienced every day. The reflection of her own wonder that a tiny, helpless person was growing inside her.
She ached to share her amazement, her excitement with someone special. To relate each change in her body, every new sensation, the pokes and prods the baby gave her, her daughter’s periodic hiccups that jiggled her tummy.
In return, she longed for someone to reassure her that her fears were unfounded. Motherhood was as natural as waking up in the morning. She and the baby would both be fine.
But she couldn’t lay all of that on Danny. She wasn’t carrying his baby; he wasn’t responsible for either her or her daughter. He wouldn’t want to be.
He’d made it pretty obvious that he wasn’t comfortable around kids. They made him nervous. And unless things had changed since his high school days, he didn’t lack for women in his life. No way would he want to be saddled with a pregnant woman who he still thought of as the pesky kid down the street.
No, he wouldn’t want her and her baby any more than