Men In Uniform: Burning For The Fireman: Firefighter's Doorstep Baby / Surrogate and Wife / Lying in Your Arms. Barbara McMahon
due to their impressive marketing.
Instead, she was quietly typing out another letter for a client miles away from the future she’d once envisioned. Yet she was grateful she’d found something that paid enough for their small flat and all their other needs. A baby was expensive. She could have been in worse shape.
By the time Dante woke from his nap in the late morning, Mariella had caught up on everything and had shut down her computer. Two of her major clients were away this week, which had freed enough time to allow her to start her search for Dante’s father. It was a haphazard way to search for someone, but it was all she had to start with. Hiring someone would prove too expensive.
Bathing the baby when he awoke, then taking a quick shower after he’d been fed, she quickly prepared a light lunch. He was still awake and the day was lovely, so she took him in the stroller to the patio. Sitting on the wooden bench, she wished the cottage had come with a rocking chair. She had purchased one as soon as she’d known she would have Dante. It was soothing to rock the baby as he drank his bottle. Still, they’d only be here a week.
No daring Jet Ski riding today, she noticed. Or had Cristiano gone out earlier that morning and she’d missed him? She might have been busy with her work, but surely she would have heard the Jet Ski? She tried to ignore the pang of disappointment. She gazed at the deep blue of the water and the lighter blue of the sky. Contrasting with the dark green of the evergreen trees, it was an idyllic setting. She felt her heart lighten a bit. On impulse, she reached for the baby and held him sitting up in her arms as she absorbed the tranquility.
“Isn’t this a pretty place?” she said, kissing the plump cheek. Dante gazed at her with wide brown eyes. Her heart expanded with love for her friend’s child. He was such a precious little boy.
“Oh, Dante, what are we going to do?” she whispered. “I love you to bits, but I wish every time I see you that your mamma could see you. She loved you so much. One day I’ll tell you just how much.”
Then a noise caught her attention and she looked at the lake, almost grinning in surprised recognition. “It’s him,” she told the baby. “The man we met yesterday. Only you slept through most of it.”
Cristiano sped across the water at a daring rate. She watched, mesmerized. Did the man have no fear? She knew she’d be terrified to go at such speeds across the water.
He made it seem effortless. He and the machine seemed to be one as he banked and flew even faster toward the far shore. Soon she couldn’t see him, only the arcing plume from the power ski. A moment later she saw the turn and then he was racing toward them. She stood, carried the baby to the edge of the patio and turned so Dante could also see the water. She had no idea if he was watching the Jet Ski, but she could scarcely take her eyes off the man riding. She remembered every inch of him—tall, tanned skin, dark hair shaggy and long. Remembering his dark eyes that had gazed into hers so intently had her heart racing.
She’d hoped to see him again. Wanted to learn more about him. Hear him tell about the village and the people who lived here. And tell her what he did in life, where he lived, what made him laugh. Was there a special woman in his life? She didn’t think so, but would like to know for sure.
Was there any place in his life for her?
Foolish thoughts. She was only here for a short time.
As he approached the small dock in front of her cottage, he slowed, coming to a coasting stop as he cut the engine and glided to the wooden planks. Bumping slightly, he sat back and looked up at her.
She almost laughed in delight and, holding Dante firmly, she carefully followed the path to the dock, walking out the few steps to where he bobbed in the water.
“Hi,” she said. “That looks amazing. How fast do you go?” She couldn’t help her grin as she took in the broad shoulders, the muscular legs straddling the machine. For a moment she wished she’d checked her hair before coming out. But with the breeze, it would be windblown no matter what. Cristiano looked fantastic, tousled hair, ruddy cheeks, and those compelling brown eyes that about melted her heart.
“Not too fast. Want to go for a spin?” he asked with a cheeky grin, taking in the baby.
She laughed and shook her head, jiggling Dante a little. “Not with a baby, thank you very much. I’d never let him go on one of those.”
“Maybe when he’s older,” Cristiano said, sitting casually on the floating machine, one foot on the dock anchoring him in place.
She eyed the machine with some wariness. “Too dangerous. Aren’t you cold?” The breeze reminded her it was fall, no hot summer days to be refreshed by the water. With his dark eyes focused on her, she felt her temperature rise. The attraction that flared between them confused her. She’d never felt emotions like this with other men she’d known. Was Cristiano different in some way? Or was it just normal reaction after months of only dealing with Dante?
“My feet are freezing. I’m ready to head back. You going into the village today?”
Mariella hadn’t been sure before, but this clinched it. “Yes. We’ll be walking over in a little while. Are you planning to be there?” She gave him her best smile. Was she flirting with the man? Yes—and it felt great.
“I’ll buy you an ice-cream cone.” His eyes locked with hers, as if urging her to say yes.
She felt daring and excited at the same time. She nodded. “I’d like that.” Trying to subdue the excitement from her voice, she said, “Don’t fall in on your way back.”
“No chance.” He pushed off and in a moment the motor caught and he headed the short distance to the town’s small marina.
She watched until she couldn’t see him clearly.
“So, we’ve been invited to see him again,” she said to Dante, hurrying back to the cottage to get the stroller. She could hardly wait.
Cristiano ran the Jet Ski up on the floating berth and turned off the motor. He’d left his clothes on the motorcycle again only this time didn’t just pull them over his wet ones, but used the men’s facilities at the public boathouse to change. He refused to examine closely why he’d stopped by the cottage to see her. He’d spotted her on the patio and impulse had driven him closer.
The only way to know if she was around, without being totally blatant about it, was to use the lake. When he’d seen her on the porch, the lure of the Jet Ski had vanished. He’d wanted to see her again.
Dressed, he bundled the wet clothes, strapping them on the back of the motorcycle. It would be a two-minute ride to the square. He had no idea if she’d already arrived. Maybe he should have gone home to get the car.
She was talking with the priest in front of the church when Cristiano entered the square. Stopping some distance away, he cut the engine and sat on the motorcycle as he watched, curious what she could be talking to Father Andreas about. The old man shook his head and then smiled down at the baby in the stroller.
In an instant the sunshine dimmed. Cristiano remembered the feel of the baby in the cradle of his arm, the small, terrified child clutched with the other. The baby cried and cried. The nightmare of smoke and darkness and wailing screams filled his senses. For a moment he was there, back in the tunnels of the metro, fighting for breath, for a foothold, for life itself with two children who were too young to die.
He could feel the heat of the fire behind him. Hear the shouts of other first responders, everyone trying to fight their way through hell. Screams of the dying, distorted shadows as the flames flared and waned. He could smell the smoke and dust as clearly as he had when his helmet shattered.
He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. Which way was out? Which way lay sunshine and fresh air and life itself?
A shout sounded louder than the rest. Something bounced on his thigh and Cristiano blinked, looking down at the rubber ball that rolled away from where it had struck him. Two boys raced after it, their laughter and shouts echoing in the square.
He